From: djmckent@neo.rr.com   
      
   NO ARCHIVE   
      
   Title:  One Another's Best   
      
   Author:  mimic117   
      
   Email:  mimic117@yahoo.com   
      
   Rating:  G   
      
   Spoilers:  Paper Clip   
      
   Summary:  Sorrows shared are sorrows halved.   
      
   Disclaimer:  Just playing with them again.  Be nice.   
      
   If this looks familiar, that's because it was posted last year   
   as part of the Memoirs of Caring Project.  I'm just now getting   
   around to sending it to other places.  I'm slow, but I get there.   
      
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
      
   One Another's Best   
   by mimic117   
      
   He finds her at their bench.  The one where he'd met her   
   mother while Scully was missing.  The one where the former   
   partners talked in secret when they were officially separated.   
   They had each retreated here at different times in the past,   
   seeking solitude while their newest emotional wound began to   
   knit closed.   
      
   She'd been restless all day, unable to settle on one task; edgy,   
   snappish.  He'd known it was too soon for her to be back at   
   work after losing her sister, but she insisted--as he knew she   
   would.  When she announced her desire to take a long lunch,   
   Mulder knew that she was planning to go off and brood.  He   
   also knew she really shouldn't be alone.   
      
   That was over an hour ago.  So he's come looking for her,   
   hoping that he can at least be there if she needs someone to   
   lean on.   
      
   "Is this seat taken?"   
      
   She shakes her head but doesn't look at him as he sits down.   
      
   The sun reflects off the water, filling their silence with   
   dazzling light which doesn't quite reach into the shadows of   
   their thoughts.  The quiet stretches out for minutes on end, not   
   uncomfortable, but not restful, either.  It startles him when she   
   finally speaks.   
      
   "I miss her, Mulder."   
      
   He places his hand on her sleeve.   
      
   "I know."   
      
   She breathes in raggedly once, regaining control almost   
   immediately.  Then she clears her throat before speaking   
   again.   
      
   "Missy and I liked to play games when we were supposed to be   
   sleeping.  It drove our parents crazy."   
      
   She doesn't say any more for several seconds, so he turns   
   toward her and asks, "What kind of games?"   
      
   The corner of her mouth quirks up, just the tiniest bit.  No one   
   else would notice, but he does.   
      
   "Stupid games, really.  I think all we wanted to do is prove that   
   we didn't have to listen to them."   
      
   He nods.   
      
   "Yeah, Samantha and I used to do that, too.  We thought our   
   parents didn't know what we were up to, but we were just   
   fooling ourselves."   
      
   Scully looks over at him finally, the quirk in her lips a little   
   bigger.   
      
   "There was this one game we really liked.  We'd play it for   
   hours, until Mom got fed up and yelled at us to go to sleep.   
   Then we'd lie in bed and giggle together until we dropped off in   
   mid-giggle."   
      
   She stops talking and waits.  She knows his curiosity won't let   
   her quit, and he doesn't disappoint her.   
      
   "So fess up.  What was this special game?  Was it something   
   kinky?"   
      
   Her eyebrow rises as high as it can go.   
      
   "We were kids, Mulder.  Of course it wasn't kinky."   
      
   "A guy can hope, can't he?"   
      
   She huffs a small laugh, the first she's produced in days.   
   Exactly the reaction he was looking for.   
      
   "So what was this innocent game?" he asks.   
      
   She turns back to face the gleaming water, but the quirk grows   
   into a genuine smile.   
      
   "For a long time, we shared an old bed that was higher off the   
   floor then most beds.  When we first got it, I needed a step-   
   stool to climb onto the mattress."   
      
   She glances over at him and says, "Don't even think about it."   
      
   His wide, innocent eyes don't fool her, but he doesn't say   
   anything, so she looks back at the water and continues.   
      
   "First, we'd throw our pillows on the floor to one side of the   
   bed.  Then, we would cross our legs into the lotus position, like   
   you'd do for yoga, and try to scoot off the bed without letting   
   our legs uncross."   
      
   Mulder's chuckle makes her turn toward him again.  His eyes   
   are shining with mirth.   
      
   "Don't laugh," she admonishes.  "It was a lot harder than it   
   sounds.  Plus we eventually decided to try getting back into the   
   bed with our legs crossed, but it couldn't be done.  Sometimes,   
   Missy made it to the floor without uncrossing her legs, but then   
   hers were longer than mine.  I didn't stand a chance.  Neither of   
   us ever made it back into the bed that way.  But it was fun."   
      
   Scully looks back at the water and her tone becomes wistful.   
      
   "I miss those days sometimes."   
      
   They become quiet again for several minutes.  He shifts on the   
   bench and sits up straighter.   
      
   "My dad built me a tree house one summer," he says.  "We   
   worked on it together weekends and every night he was home   
   for three weeks.  I marked them on the calendar."   
      
   She moves her arm so that his hand slides down her sleeve   
   and slips into her hand.  He leans a little closer, pressing   
   solidly against her shoulder, creating a spot of warmth where   
   they touch.   
      
   "How big was it?" she asks, letting her own curiosity have free   
   reign.   
      
   "Big enough for three or four kids to sleep on the floor."   
      
   "That must have been a lot of work."   
      
   He turns toward her and smiles.   
      
   "It was.  But it was fun, too.  Dad taught me how to cut boards   
   with a hand saw, and he even let me pound in nails.  He didn't   
   take out the crooked ones, either.  By the time we were done, I   
   was actually driving them straight."   
      
   He faces forward again, squinting against the glare off the   
   water.   
      
   "I started looking forward to working on it.  It wasn't just the   
   fact that I was allowed to use the tools.  We talked while we   
   worked, too.  For once, I had my father all to myself, and I   
   loved it."   
      
   "What did you talk about?"   
      
   He shrugs.   
      
   "Lots of things.  Dad came from a family of ship's carpenters,   
   and he had his grandfather's tools.  We used the planes for   
   smoothing the surface of the wood, rasps to carve out niches   
   for the branches under the floor--he even let me make holes   
   in the boards with the hand-cranked drill just for the fun of it."   
      
   She squeezes his hand.   
      
   "That sounds nice, Mulder.  How old were you?"   
      
   "I turned eight that fall.  When we got the tree house done, Dad   
   let me invite a couple of friends over for a sleep-out.  We   
   hoisted our sleeping bags up by tying them to a rope on a   
   pulley.  We formed a human chain and passed chips, soda and   
   candy bars up the ladder.  Eddie ate so much he threw up on   
   Alan's sleeping bag during the night and we had to toss it over   
   the side.  That tree house was a huge hit.  The next few years   
   were a lot of fun, until we outgrew it.  Sometimes, I wish... "   
      
   "Yeah."  She sighs.  "Me, too."   
      
   They continue to sit quietly.  Around them, people walk by   
   without a glance in their direction.  The sun moves a little   
   closer toward the horizon and shadows slowly stretch out across   
   the ground.  The silence is no longer restless.  It is tinged   
   with regrets--promises not kept, words unsaid.  But there is a   
   feeling of hope, a lifting of the spirit that has nothing to do   
   with the bright sunlight.   
      
   "You'll be okay, Scully," he says.   
      
   "Will I?"   
      
   "It'll take a while, but yeah, you will.  You're strong.   
   Stronger than anyone else I know."   
      
   She leans her head against his shoulder and squeezes his   
   hand again.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)