From: susannastarz@hotmail.com   
      
   TITLE: Predisposition (7/?) rated R   
   AUTHOR: Susanna Starz   
   ARCHIVE: Sure   
   EMAIL: SusannaStarz@hotmail.com   
      
   Other disclaimers and notes in Part 1   
      
      
   *   
      
   	   
   	Mulder leaned back into the familiar leather cushions,   
   pushing the empty Chinese carton away from him with a contented   
   little grunt. He sat in the center of the couch, Scully on his left,   
   Christina on his right by the fish tank. Scully's arm brushed   
   against his every time she raised her fork to take another bite.   
      
   	If he closed his eyes, he could imagine he was home. Hell,   
   he didn't even have to close his eyes. He just had to squint a   
   little.   
      
   	"I feel like a little kid having a slumber party," Miller   
   said finally, putting down her carton and looking at him with a shy   
   little half smile. "What should we do next? Hair and make-up or   
   prank calls?"   
      
   	He heard Scully chuff with amusement next to him.   
      
   	"You two seem like the prank call types," Scully said,   
   looking up from her dinner with a smirk. Then she put her empty   
   carton down on the coffee table and leaned back, pressing   
   comfortably against him.   
      
   	Mulder decided he never, ever wanted to move.   
      
   	"I, uh," Miller seemed awkward and shy, a far cry from the   
   confident and demanding presence she had been only hours ago. She   
   stood up and began collecting the garbage, and Mulder could see her   
   hands shaking as she reached for the plates.   
      
   	"Let me--" he tried, moving to stand.   
      
   	"No, just, just stay." She said quickly. "I just need a   
   minute." She turned and beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen, and   
   he could hear the rustling of a plastic garbage bag.   
      
   	"This is surreal," Scully said quietly, her eyes moving   
   around the room before finally settling on the gurgling fish tank.   
      
   	"I think she's a little overwhelmed," Mulder said finally,   
   trying hard not to worry. He didn't want Miller to regret meeting   
   them, regret bringing them here.   
      
   	"It's a lot of information to absorb in one day," Scully   
   murmured, tearing her gaze away from the fish tank to look into his   
   eyes. He was surprised to see tears swimming there.   
      
   	He reached out a hand to touch her cheek, and she let out an   
   embarrassed laugh, reaching up and swiping at her eyes with the back   
   of her hand. "I just forgot how nice it was. You and me, like this."   
      
   	So the couch and similar room was affecting her too. Mulder   
   found it reassuring that he wasn't the only one nostalgic for such   
   times.   
      
   	"Would anyone like a drink?" Miller called from the   
   kitchen. "A real drink? God knows, after today, I need one."   
      
   	"Just a beer," Mulder said. Scully nodded her   
   agreement. "Make that two."   
      
   	After a moment Miller appeared in the doorway, holding two   
   long neck glass bottles and a large glass filled with a clear   
   liquid.   
      
   	"Vodka, no ice," she said with a shrug. "Soothes the   
   nerves."   
      
   	"So much for chocolate milk and grape soda, huh?" Mulder   
   said wryly.   
      
   	"Well I can't exactly have Greene bringing me a bottle of   
   vodka from the vending machine, now can I?" She let out a   
   chuckle. "Besides, today of all days, I think I've earned it. It's   
   not every day a girl learns that her birth parents aren't her   
   biological parents, that she was the product of an experiment and   
   has a genetic brother who's a fugitive from justice."   
      
   	"You have a point."   
      
   	She took a healthy swig of her drink, shuddering as she   
   swallowed. "So, movie?"   
      
   	"What do ya got?" Mulder glanced expectantly towards her   
   television.   
      
   	"I was thinking a comedy, since I don't think we need a   
   movie to depress us further." Miller shrugged. "Something along the   
   lines of, oh I don't know...Caddyshack?"   
      
   	Scully let out a snort.   
      
   	Miller glanced over, looking surprised. "Bad choice?"   
      
   	Scully shook her head, still looking amused. "No, no it's   
   fine."   
      
   	Miller glanced questioningly at Mulder, and he wondered if   
   she found his goofy grin odd.   
      
   	"I should have known bad taste would be genetic," Scully   
   sighed, but he could see the secret smile she was hiding. He looked   
   closely. Was she...was she blushing? The thought made his own face   
   burn as memories of another night, on a couch just like this one,   
   rose unbidden in his mind.   
      
   	Scully held his gaze for a long moment before returning her   
   attention to the television as the movie started. On his right,   
   Miller took another gulp of her drink before leaning back into the   
   couch and putting her feet up on the coffee table.   
      
   	"This is nice," she murmured, sounding sleepy.   
      
   	*Yeah,* Mulder thought, glancing over at Scully, who's   
   perfectly manicured fingers had somehow found his hand. *This is   
   nice.*   
      
   *   
      
   	Christina was trying to remain objective. She really was.   
   The problem was, she liked them so damn much. It astonished her that   
   she was sitting on her couch, drowsy from her drink, feet casually   
   up on her coffee table as if watching a comedy with two fugitives   
   was something she did every night.   
      
   	Granted, one of them was more than likely her genetic   
   brother, but *still.*   
      
   	She had always wanted siblings. Her mother had always smiled   
   and laughed at these wishes, telling Christina that what she really   
   was looking for was someone to boss around. She had to admit she'd   
   been a bossy kid. Hell, she'd grown into a bossy adult.   
      
   	But *still.* It would have been nice to have someone around   
   who shared her genetic mapping, a little piece of her that wouldn't   
   think she was odd like the other children. And she *had* been odd.   
   She was always intelligent, and at an age when most girls were   
   hiding their natural intellect in an effort to seem more appealing   
   to the opposite sex she'd never had a problem raising her hand in   
   class and challenging the teachers.   
      
   	Hell, by the time she began circling typos and spelling   
   errors on her sixth grade tests, she'd had to admit that even the   
   teachers had begun to hate her. No one likes to be made to feel   
   stupid, let alone by a twelve year old girl with a big mouth.   
      
   	Of course, all those years she prayed that her mom would   
   suddenly announce that there was a sibling on the way, she'd never   
   considered the fact that she wasn't genetically related to her   
   parents. Any brother or sister they managed to pop out by some   
   miracle would likely be pudgy and blond and pleasant looking, not   
   all dark hair and sharp angles like she was.   
      
   	And she grew up to rather enjoy her life. She followed her   
   father into law enforcement and found it wasn't very different from   
   school; she made instant enemies but always, *always* made the   
   grade. She did her job better than anyone else and she was damn   
   proud of it. She had even grown to love her self-imposed isolation,   
   reveling in the taunts from her jealous peers, who to her still   
   seemed like little children, desperately trying to build their own   
   self worth by destroying someone else's.   
      
   	Occasionally, she found good souls amongst the people she   
   worked with. Greene was one of them. Although she gave him a hard   
   time, she was quite fond of him. He'd proven more than once in her   
   trial by fire that he'd made a good cop. She'd get around to telling   
   him that eventually.   
      
   	But suddenly, she'd been granted the answer to all of her   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)