From: banlutoo@yahoo.com   
      
   Weighing the Day (1/1) by banlu   
      
   Title:  Weighing the Day   
   Author:  banlu   
   Email: banlutoo@yahoo.com   
      
   Archive:  *DO NOT ARCHIVE* to ephemeral, Gossamer;   
   Already there. Anyone else, please ask.   
   I like to know it's gone to a nice home.   
      
   Rating:  PG   
      
   Category:  S/A/H   
      
   Spoilers:  Brief references to "Beyond the Sea", "Detour",   
   and in a roundabout way, "Within".   
      
   Timeline:  Season 5 - sometime between Chinga and All   
   Souls.   
      
   Keywords:  Mulder/Scully UST   
      
   Summary:  "The mass of the day increased, weighing on her   
   more and more, as the rate of time flying by approached the   
   speed of light."   
      
   Comments:  Written for Haven's April's X Play House   
   Challenge.  Er... um... that would be April 2003.  Only a   
   year late, LOL   
      
      
                     No one can fight the good fight,   
                     ghostbust, alien chase, and or   
                     uncover a government conspiracy EVERYDAY.   
      
                     Give us an everyday day.  Show us nothing   
                     important happened   
                     today - and make it fun, interesting, and   
                     readable.   
      
                     elements to include   
                             A long lost someone getting in   
                             touch for the first time in   
                                  YEARS (hi jean)   
                             Something burning   
                             a modem   
                             something that is unfinished   
      
      
   Disclaimer:  No matter how hard I wish, they aren't mine,   
   aren't mine, aren't mine...   
      
   Thanks:  To mims, as usual : D   
      
   Date written:  April 9, 2004   
      
   Author's notes:  At end.   
      
      
   Weighing the Day   
   by banlu   
      
      
   8:39 pm   
   Scully's living room   
      
   Scully rubbed her tired eyes then stared at the unfinished   
   email.  She had started it hours ago, in reply to the   
   surprise note from her childhood friend Anna.  They hadn't   
   seen each other since they were twelve, and had lost all   
   contact at sixteen, after one too many moves made their   
   letters undeliverable.  She sighed, noticing that the smell   
   of her burned dinner still permeated the apartment.  She   
   wrinkled her nose when she got a whiff of an even nastier   
   smell.   
      
   Oh, yeah.  No sending tonight.   
      
   She looked glumly at her Kentucky Fried Modem sitting on   
   her desk.  Its casing had been cracked a couple of years   
   earlier when Queequeg caught the power cord chasing a ball.   
   It still worked, so Scully had decided to make do until she   
   could afford a whole new computer with a dog-friendly,   
   cord-free internal modem.  But the Pomeranian had been   
   eaten by an alligator only a couple of weeks later, poor   
   thing.   
      
   And then she got cancer.  She was still paying the medical   
   bills six months later.   
      
   So that's why she was staring at a worthless modem while   
   Mulder cleaned up after dinner.  She winced at the sound of   
   metal hitting the kitchen floor.  She heard him curse a   
   blue streak, evidence of his own tiredness.  She sighed   
   again.  A lousy ending to what had started as a wonderful   
   day.  Scully cast her thoughts back, wondering when it had   
   started to go so wrong...   
      
   *****   
   9:30 am   
   Scully's bedroom   
      
   Scully stretched, looked at her clock and smiled at the   
   time.  She'd wanted to sleep late this Saturday morning, to   
   catch up for the past week.  She kicked off the covers as   
   she got up, slipped on her slippers, and went to the   
   bathroom.  Afterwards, she washed her hands, splashed cold   
   water on her face and grabbed her robe.  She then headed   
   for the kitchen and a cup of the fresh-brewed coffee she   
   could smell.   
      
   She stopped short.   
      
   She could smell coffee.   
      
   Now, she knew the coffee couldn't make itself, since her   
   Mr. Coffee was as dead as good old Joltin' Joe DiMaggio,   
   may he rest in peace.  That meant someone had had to make   
   it.  Which meant someone was in the apartment that hadn't   
   been there when she made the rounds the night before.   
   Which was something she always did these days before she   
   latched the chain...   
      
   The chain.   
      
   It had broken and she hadn't called the manager because it   
   was so late...   
      
   Suddenly she could smell pancakes, too.  She relaxed.  Only   
   one person would walk into her place on a Saturday morning   
   and make breakfast.  She continued to the kitchen, a smile   
   of welcome on her lips.   
      
   She turned the corner.  "Hi Mom... Mo... Mu... Mulder?"   
      
   "Hey, Scully, you sure slept late."  He stood by the   
   microwave, grinning at her.  She could see the steam rising   
   off the plate of pancakes in his hand.   
      
   "You made pancakes?" she asked, incredulous.   
      
   His grin got bigger.  "Zapped 'em, actually.  Aunt Jemima's   
   Buttermilk ones.  Got her syrup, too."   
      
   Scully sniffed.  "And sausages?"   
      
   "Jimmy Dean's microwavable.  Ready in 45 seconds."   
      
   "The coffee?" she asked with sudden trepidation.   
      
   "Now, that I can make.  Freshly ground, too."   
      
   Scully pulled out a chair.  "How long have you been here?"   
      
   He placed the plate in front of her.  "A couple of hours.   
   I was about to die from hunger, so I finally started   
   without you."   
      
   She sat down.  "Mulder, why are you here?"   
      
   He poured her coffee.  "I woke up and started to get   
   breakfast.  Then I realized I wanted to have it with you."   
      
   "Yet you were about to start without me," she pointed out.   
      
   He shrugged as he pulled the sausages out of the microwave.   
   She watched him pull the wrapping off another stack of   
   pancakes, place them on a plate and put them in the   
   microwave.  She heard it start up as she reached for the   
   syrup.   
      
   "That was just to fill the hole in my stomach,"  he said,   
   "not the hole in my heart."   
      
   Scully stopped in mid-reach, thoughts of syrup forgotten,   
   the phrase 'hole in my heart' stuck in her head.  She shook   
   it loose.   
      
   "Mulder," she asked, "What did you just say?"   
      
   "I said, did you want some OJ?"  He held up the carton.   
      
   Huh?  Okay, she'd missed something.  "Yes," she replied,   
   "but what was that you said about a hole in your heart?"   
      
   Mulder concentrated on pouring the juice.   
      
   "Mulder?"   
      
   He put the glasses on the table and returned the carton to   
   the fridge.   
      
   "Mulder?"   
      
   The microwave beep-beep-beeped.   
      
   "Mulder?"   
      
   He pulled out his plate of pancakes, then sat across from   
   her.  He speared a couple of sausages from the dish in the   
   middle of the table.   
      
   She had missed something.  She'd been too shocked to even   
   notice him putting the sausages there.   
      
   "Mulder?"   
      
   He poured syrup on his pancakes.  "Do you want me to warm   
   up yours?"  He gestured at her plate without looking up.   
      
   Scully glanced down at the pancakes in front of her.  When   
   she looked back at Mulder, he was focused on his breakfast.   
      
   "No, Mulder, I want to talk about what you just said.   
   About you having a hole in your heart."   
      
   He cut off a piece of sausage with the edge of his fork,   
   speared it, and then swirled it in the syrup that had   
   dripped down the side of the pancakes.   
      
   "Mulder?"   
      
   He sighed and put down his fork.  He raised his head, but   
   still avoided her eyes.  "It's just that sometimes, Scully,   
   I... I... miss you.  I wish I could see you every day."  He   
   looked into her eyes.  "Today, I gave in to that wish.   
   I'm... I'm sorry if I overstepped any boundaries."  He   
   returned his attention to his fork.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)