From: xfgibson@yahoo.com   
      
   Title: Resurfacing.   
   Author: Gibson   
   Date: December, 2005 (Posted 07/17/2007)   
   Pairing: MSR   
   Rating: G/PG   
   Disclaimer: The X-Files and the characters thereof    
   are owned by a great many people. None of them are    
   I.    
   Summary: Some times you can't leave the past behind    
   you.   
      
   Author's Notes: Thanks to Sallie and Mimic for the beta.    
   Thanks also go to Chris, because she helped with the    
   unsolvable problem. All errors of grammar, plot,   
   and characterization are mine. This fic was both    
   for the BtS photo-Manip. Challenge and the Secret Santa.    
      
   Dedication: For Toni. Because she cares so much.    
      
   %^%^%^%^%^   
   It had been a long day.    
      
   There'd been a bad accident on 35. Four car pile-up:    
   five dead and two children seriously injured. One    
   of the dead was a child, a baby really, only 15    
   months old. Days like today made Sarah Alexander    
   wonder why she'd ever decided to be a medical    
   examiner. There were so many other things she could    
   have done; she'd always been considered bright.   
      
   Sighing, she eased out of her lab coat and picked    
   up her shoulder bag. John would already be home    
   from the high school; maybe they'd go out for    
   dinner. He was always up for Chinese and she    
   couldn't face the thought of cooking.    
      
   She walked out to her blue Toyota Camry and drove    
   home. That was one thing about moving to Crystal    
   Springs two years ago; their commute was almost    
   non-existent now. The high school was about two    
   miles from their ranch home and she was only three    
   miles away at the County Coroner's Office. Most    
   days they still carpooled, as they kept similar    
   hours, but today she'd planned on staying late to    
   finish some paperwork from last week.    
      
   Less than ten minutes later, she pulled into the    
   driveway and walked through the garage door to the    
   kitchen. The blue walls cheered her as did the    
   almost total lack of clutter. John tended to be    
   messier, but she'd trained him well in this area.    
   He knew that clean, neat spaces calmed and cheered    
   her and he confined his clutter to his office--where    
   he was currently holed up.    
      
   He looked up as she walked into his den, swiveling    
   in his chair to face her when he saw her expression,    
   "Everything alright Sarah?"   
      
   "How does Chinese sound?" was her only response.    
      
    "Let me send a reply to Scott while you change."     
      
   Turning, she went into their bedroom as he returned    
   to the computer screen. They used to see Scott    
   nearly every day before they moved; now they spoke    
   only through the Internet and the rare phone call.    
   When people asked who the man in their wedding    
   photo was, they said he was John's brother--though    
   there was no family resemblance.      
      
   Sarah went into their bedroom, the green room, and    
   its old heirloom quilt centered her as she changed    
   into her favorite blue jeans and a green sweater--   
   the one that John said brought out the green in her    
   eyes. She thought it made her look like a walking    
   holiday advertisement, with her naturally red hair,    
   and she generally refused to wear it in December    
   for that reason.   
      
   Finished changing, she briefly ran a brush through    
   her hair and reapplied the lipstick that she'd    
   chewed off around one o'clock, when the first    
   bodies started appearing. Looking at her reflection,    
   green eyes staring back at her, she knew she'd    
   never get used to these new contacts. Satisfied    
   that she was presentable, she grabbed her bag and    
   headed back into John's office.   
      
   %^%^%^%^%^   
   He drove them to the Lotus. He usually drove when    
   they rode together. He claimed it was easier for    
   his longer legs to reach the pedals. Once she would    
   have verbally slapped him for that, but now it was    
   a fond reminder of their earlier days.      
      
   So many things had changed when they'd moved to    
   Crystal Springs. She hadn't wanted to move here    
   originally, but John had said it would be better.    
   They "needed to have a normal relationship." They    
   would have died if they'd stayed, or gone to    
   another big city he'd said, and now, looking back,    
   she had to agree.      
      
      
   This was the best choice for them. In Crystal    
   Springs they were John and Sarah Alexander--high    
   school history teacher and medical examiner for the    
   county. They had a great relationship--far better in    
   some ways, and definitely more normal--than the one    
   they'd had in D.C. And, they were safe. Here the    
   most unusual thing about them was the fact that    
   they had no children.    
      
   They told those people uncouth enough to ask that    
   they were waiting, and sometimes they told a    
   version of the truth: "We lost our son," or "Sarah    
   can't have children anymore." Usually the pushy    
   neighbor or over-familiar co-worker paused then and    
   realized that they'd crossed a line, apologized and    
   left. Word must have spread through the town    
   because now, two years after they'd moved there,    
   they didn't get asked about children anymore.   
      
   Still, days like this one, with the senseless loss    
   of a young life, hit them both hard.    
      
   %^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^   
      
   John pulled into the parking lot and stopped,    
   waiting for Sarah to come back to herself from    
   wherever she'd gone.  He knew today had been hard    
   for her: someone who'd known her as long and as    
   well as he had couldn't have missed it. It was days    
   like this that made him wish she could still talk    
   to her mother. Mothers were better at dealing with    
   the pain of eternal grieving.  She hadn't told him    
   yet what had happened, but he knew. Sarah could    
   face almost anything, but the premature death of a    
   child always hit her in the barely scabbed over    
   place where her own grief rested. They'd have    
   dinner and talk, maybe watch some mindless    
   television and then they'd turn in early. They'd    
   lie there briefly and then turn toward each other    
   and hold tight until their grief receded enough for    
   sleep to come lapping at the edges of their    
   awareness like the tide, and carry them away.    
      
   "John?" Sarah was looking at him, concern in her    
   green eyes. "Are you ready?"   
      
   When he nodded, they opened the car doors and went    
   into the restaurant. Once they were comfortably    
   seated in their booth and they'd placed their    
   orders, Sarah started talking.    
      
   "It was a car accident. Two children."    
      
   She didn't say anymore; she didn't have to. They    
   talked about his classes, the track team, the fact    
   that they'd asked him, again, to coach the team.    
   He'd stalled them, he couldn't accept a commitment    
   like that, a year in advance. They didn't know    
   where they'd be in a year.    
      
   They talked about the new Tom Cruise movie coming    
   out and whether or not they'd go see it this    
   weekend. Dinner was good; they were lucky to have a    
   good Chinese (really Asian, John was a stickler    
   about the distinction) restaurant in town. They    
   mourned their usual place in D.C., but the Lotus    
   wasn't a bad spot to get some decent food.    
      
   After dinner, they held hands on the way to the car.    
   A natural act for them now, though in the past it    
   was completely alien. The move, their lives now,    
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)