From: char@chaffin.com   
      
   TENDER IS THE NIGHT   
   By Char Chaffin   
   MSR, Vignette, Angst   
   PG-13   
   Missing scenes for "Sein Und Zeit" and "Closure"   
   Dedication:  To the Seafarers and Truthseekers who still believe...   
      
   Summary:  'All this time she thought it was the love of one friend   
   for another...'   
      
      
   "Tender is the Night"   
      
   When she answers the door that morning and looks into the eyes of   
   her superior, she knows exactly what he's thinking.  There isn't an   
   inch of him that doesn't scream professionalism and yet she knows.   
   His voice is the same as always; a little gruff yet with an   
   underlying sheen of concern - but she knows.   
      
   She supposes she looks rumpled enough to have slept in a bed instead   
   of curled up on the sofa.  She knows her clothes are wrinkled and her   
   hair a mess, most of her makeup gone.  She's heavy-eyed, exhausted,   
   and all of this has to show on her face.  Her voice is huskier, even   
   to her own ears.  She probably looks - and sounds - as if she's been   
   fucked senseless.  She'd have bet money that thought is now bouncing   
   around in her AD's brain as he stares at her.  She would not have   
   been a bit surprised if he'd verbalized said thought to her - very   
   professionally, of course.  She could just imagine it:  'Well, Agent,   
   looks as if you've spent the night productively, getting thoroughly   
   planked by your partner...'   
      
   "How's he doing?"   
      
   The voice is concerned and not at all suspicious.  She blinks, for   
   one second taken aback.  Of course AD Skinner wouldn't have said any   
   such thing as what she's thinking.  Of course he's worried, wanting   
   to offer support at a needful time.  All of her protective hackles,   
   rising in anticipation of possible defense, immediately smooth out   
   and ease off.  She almost smiles in gratitude but instead keeps her   
   expression somber; almost thanks him for not stating his perception.   
   Instead she answers truthfully.   
      
   "It's been a hard night for him."   
      
   *******************************   
      
   She slept on the sofa because Mulder needed the bed rest.  She kept   
   silent yet separate vigil because both of them were running on an   
   overload of emotion, albeit for very different reasons - and she   
   didn't want either of them to make a tactical error they'd regret   
   later on, after the grief and worry and anger had spent itself out.   
   Her best friend was in pain.  The kindest thing she could do for him   
   was to stay close in case he needed her... but to let him have his   
   space and his solitary time.  Sooner or later he'd need to lean on   
   her and she'd be ready with that shoulder.  In the meantime, he'd   
   asked to be alone and she'd respected his request.   
      
   She lay on her side on the worn, comfortable sofa, his thick wool   
   blanket around her shoulders, and had dozed in and out all night.   
   She'd awakened often and had listened for noise in the bedroom next   
   door; any sounds of distress, nightmares or sobbing.  There was none.   
   If Mulder grieved hard, he did it silently.  Scully could understand   
   and respect that ability, for she herself grieved in much the same   
   fashion.   
      
   She worried constantly throughout the night and as daylight   
   brightens the living room, finds herself still worried.  He's so very   
   alone; in a world where the majority of people have someone related   
   to them, Mulder is truly a solitary man.  His father had been an only   
   child and his mother's only sibling - a sister - has already passed   
   away.  As far as Scully knows, his aunt had never married and had   
   never produced any children.  If there are any Mulders left in this   
   world, they certainly aren't beating a path to his door.  He is the   
   last, it would seem.   
      
   The very thought makes Scully unbearably sad, and for that alone she   
   curled up into his blanket on his sofa in the dark and cried for him.   
      
   For all of her past family losses, still she has family left.  She   
   has people who share her blood and who love her.  She has a few aunts   
   and an uncle.  She has cousins.  The Scully family isn't as large as   
   it used to be but the operative word here is 'family.'  Scully has   
   always felt blessed, fortunate.  How she wishes Mulder could have the   
   same comfort in his life.   
      
   Yes, she knows he has her.  Forever, he'll have her.  She would   
   never stop being a friend, never stop caring about him; never give   
   him up as a partner.  If she wants more from him she keeps it well-   
   hidden in her heart - perhaps even from herself - and remains   
   satisfied with what they mean to each other right now, this moment.   
   She's told herself there might be some sort of a future for them, but   
   now isn't it.  There are still too many battles to be fought and far   
   too many questions that need answering.  It may not be her choice but   
   it's her decision.  And his.   
      
   Scully had accepted it as she lay in the dark and wiped tears from   
   her eyes.  She didn't like it, but she accepted it.   
      
   ****************************   
      
   In the morning, with Mulder holding steady, arrangements are made   
   for the agents and their AD to fly to Sacramento and meet with the   
   LaPierres.  Later in the day even Skinner can tell the visit has   
   taken a great toll on Mulder's energy and heart.  Somehow it doesn't   
   surprise Scully when he requests removal from the case.  But she's   
   very worried; this is the first time Mulder has asked to be removed   
   from a case, X-File or otherwise.  Still, she can't blame him.  The   
   proof of his despair is in his body language, his voice, his eyes.   
   It breaks her heart to see him this way.   
      
   **************************   
      
   She finds herself so angry at Harold Piller that she cannot even   
   maintain objectivity around him.  Trying to talk sense to Mulder   
   proves more difficult after he and Piller find what they both argue   
   is evidence at April Air Force Base.  Piller is pushing him, leading   
   him, but Mulder doesn't seem to see it that way.   
      
   Scully paces the small confines of her motel room, rubbing at the   
   headache brewing at her temples, occasionally glancing at the   
   connecting door between her room and Mulder's.  They need to meet   
   with Piller tomorrow; he doesn't know Scully is here.  Not that her   
   presence will necessarily make any difference, except to perhaps send   
   a message to Piller that she's looking out for her partner and   
   friend.   
      
   She blows out a frustrating breath.  It's hard not to like Piller,   
   or to feel sorry for him.  The man is undoubtedly in pain, grieving   
   heavily for his son and trying to find any way he can to hold onto   
   the hope that he'll find his boy alive.  Scully understands the pain   
   of losing a child, all too well.  Of course she feels for the   
   distraught man.  She also feels fiercely protective of Mulder's   
   emotional condition, his heart.  He's been damaged enough by the   
   years of searching and the myriad of additional loss that was spurred   
   by Samantha's disappearance.  She won't stand idly by and let more   
   damage happen at the hands of Harold Piller... or anyone else.   
      
   Tomorrow they'll confront Piller with what she's been able to find   
   out about him.  She can only hope it will help Mulder hold onto his   
   objectivity.  He needs closure badly, but she knows this isn't the   
   way for him to get it.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)