Title: An Unexpected Song   
   Author: Gina Rain (ginarain@aol.com)   
   Rating: PG   
   Category: S, A, MSR   
   Spoilers: Pilot, DeadAlive   
   Summary: Scully is hearing things she can no longer   
   deny.   
   Disclaimer: The X-files and its characters belong to   
   Chris Carter.   
      
      
   Now, no matter where I am   
   No matter what I do   
   I see your face appearing   
   Like an unexpected song   
   An unexpected song   
   That only we are hearing   
      
   (The Unexpected Song: Andrew Lloyd Webber, Don   
   Black)   
      
      
   Two people less musical than Mulder and Scully were   
   hard to find. She couldn't hold a note in a paper   
   bag and, as a singer, Mulder made a good rapper.   
      
   Still, during one of those moments when Scully chose   
   to step outside herself and examine their   
   relationship, she came to the conclusion that the   
   two of them had a natural harmony; that they were,   
   indeed, able to create 'beautiful music' together.   
   The first known incident occurred in a   
   graveyard during their first case. In the long run,   
   nothing could be more ironic.   
      
   Years before, they found themselves standing in the   
   pouring rain while laughing together for the first   
   time. Scully was always very conscious of propriety,   
   especially back then. She knew it wasn't the time or   
   place for such an action but it seemed natural. It   
   seemed right. Here was a man who was used to being   
   mocked for his theories and expected no deferential   
   treatment from his new partner. But she never took   
   the easy way out. Scully could almost hear the   
   sounds of the tethers of scientific method snapping   
   as she let her mind free-fall into understanding Mulder's   
   Theory. It was a moment of respect and acceptance. They   
   didn't agree with each other on many things, but they'd   
   each bend a little and adjust their ways in an attempt to try.   
   That knowledge was exhilarating. In the years that   
   followed, she never remembered the wet clothes and   
   the cold. She remembered the sound of their   
   laughter.   
      
   But that was then. It was life in a different world:   
   a world with Mulder.   
      
   He was dead now.   
      
   Maybe.   
      
   Probably.   
      
   Definitely.   
      
   He *was* dead.  Scully shook her head at her   
   foolishness.   
      
   She had been the last person to see his lifeless   
   form in the coffin. For months, she had relived that   
   moment in an effort to convince herself of the one   
   fact she should know above all others. She knew the   
   dead. She dealt with the dead every day. She still   
   did. As she sliced and diced and taught others the   
   fine art, she wondered why she never thought of   
   Mulder. Of course, she hadn't permitted an autopsy   
   on him. She didn't want to know the horrible secrets   
   it might reveal.  Whether his death was a result of   
   one final, horrendous act of torture or a series, it   
   made little difference. Life for him in those last   
   few months had been hell and the only comfort she   
   could find was in this odd form of denial. Yes, he   
   had been tortured but perhaps his final moment had   
   been one of quiet release, a moment when he had   
   closed his eyes and just let go. Another irony. She   
   didn't need scientific proof. In fact, she didn't   
   want it.   
      
   He was dead. That's all she needed to know. And she   
   did know it. Sort of.   
      
   Scully sat up against the pillows and looked out as   
   the dawn spread a little light on her dark curtains.   
   Her father had come to her before he died. A simple   
   appearance in her living room was followed by the   
   phone call announcing his abrupt exit from the   
   world. It was, perhaps, the single most real and   
   unreal moment of her life up until that point.   
   Seeing Mulder for a moment before being summoned to   
   the compound was even worse.  He had been standing   
   right there in that motel, and she had been filled   
   with such joy and hope, only a short while before   
   they found his battered, bruised body. If only she   
   had not looked away. If only . . .   
      
   Scully absent-mindedly ran her hand over her   
   swelling belly. If she allowed herself to think   
   these crazy thoughts, they would take this baby from   
   her, for the good of both of them. This baby she had   
   wanted so much. She had upset the apple cart. That   
   was the problem. She should have been satisfied with   
   what she had and not taken any of it for granted.   
   She should have wrapped her arms around each mutant,   
   listened to each harebrained theory Mulder espoused.   
      
   "Scully."   
      
   There it was again: the whisper of her name. It held   
   reproach this time. It didn't always, but he   
   wouldn't like her to second-guess herself. He   
   wouldn't want her to upset herself or their child.   
   All this was clear in the way his slightly raspy   
   voice said her name.   
      
   If she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, she   
   would gladly give herself a push over the edge. Just   
   to continue to hear his voice. Just to see his face.   
      
   She looked at the window again. If she concentrated,   
   she almost could see him there again. Not wearing   
   some odd suit, like the last time she had seen him   
   before she had closed the lid, but with a towel   
   wrapped around his waist. His hair was wet and she   
   was cautioning him against opening a window in case   
   he caught a chill.   
      
   "Scully, you're a doctor. You don't 'catch a chill.'   
   A cold is a virus," he said, looking out at the   
   street.   
      
   "You don't live with Margaret Scully for so many   
   years and escape unscathed," she said, not lifting   
   herself up from the pillows. "Why are you up so   
   early?"   
      
   "I've got a few things to do in the office."   
      
   "Oh." She felt foolish. She had left him alone in   
   bed on several occasions. They were too new to all   
   of this. Pillow talk was not their forte and here   
   she was demanding to know what he planned to do with   
   his time.   
      
   "Scully . . . " His tone was chiding and endearing   
   all at once.   
      
   "What?"   
      
   "Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong."   
      
   "Am I?"   
      
   "Yes," he leaned back against the windowsill and   
   looked at her. "I willed you awake, you know."   
      
   "You did," she stated flatly.   
      
   "Yes. I bet you didn't know I could do that."   
      
   "You're right. Tell me how long you've had this   
   power."   
      
   "Well, I've thought I might for a while but proved   
   it when you opened your eyes just now."   
      
   "You weren't making any noise and you weren't even   
   looking in my direction when I opened my eyes."   
      
   "My point exactly. I willed you awake through   
   intense concentration and the desire to see those   
   baby blues before I left."   
      
   "Okay." She took a small breath and closed her eyes.   
   She didn't know why she was doing this but she   
   listened to the sounds in the room. There really   
   weren't any. All was silent and still but she knew   
   the exact moment he was standing in front of her.   
   Keeping her eyes shut, she reached out a hand and   
   touched his bare chest. She felt, as well as heard,   
   his chuckle.   
      
   "See, you have the power yourself. We have to open a   
   file on ourselves." She opened her eyes and saw him   
   as he stood before her, his hand now covering the   
   one she still had against his skin. His eyes were   
   soft and warm and she ached for him to come back to   
   bed, but knew she'd never stop him from leaving when   
   he felt he had to.   
      
   "It can be explained scientifically, Mulder-in   
   several ways-in fact."   
      
   He smiled and let go of her hand. He adjusted a pair   
   of phantom eyeglasses on his face. "Well, Agent,   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)