In the Moment by Gwinne
Website: n/a
Rating: MSR, PG-13
Summary: "all things" post-ep
Comments: Very, very sweet (and GOOD!) Scully POV fic. Loved that it
touched upon issues from past episodes ("Chimera", "En Ami",
etc)... Love that continuity! And of course, getting in Scully's head is a
good thing when done well... like here!
In the Moment
Title: In the Moment
Author: Gwinne
Distribution: Gossamer and Spookys okay; otherwise, please
contact me for permission
Rating: PG-13
Classification: MSR all the way
Spoilers: post-ep for "All Things"; bitty ones for "Orison,"
"Millennium," "Sein Und Zeit," "Chimera," and
"En Ami." I think
that's it.
Disclaimer: Of course they're not mine, but they do occupy a lot
of my quiet moments.
Feedback: This is my first posted
fic, so please be nice. I
wrote this before I read the "All things" fanfic out there
already, so please forgive any unintentional duplications. E-mail
me at gwinne@yahoo.com
IN THE MOMENT
Scully woke to the blue light of Mulder's
fish tank, his scratchy
Indian blanket pulled up to her chin. "It's says a lot a lot a
lot a lot," she remembered him saying as she drifted off. Yes,
Mulder, it is a lot, it's everything. The apartment was quiet
except for the filter in the fishtank and she found it somewhat
ironic that she was on the couch, where she knew Mulder preferred
to sleep; it was six years together before she even knew he owned
a bed. She knew she should go home, sleep in her own bed with the
new down comforter she bought to replace the old one, after the
incident in January--she'd taken Mulder with her to the store, an
odd moment of intimacy in this new thing that they were still
becoming. Yes, home, with the open window letting in the April
air, so crisp at night and warm in the day. She knew she should
go home, to the quiet of her own things and her own thoughts, but
she felt the pull of him, his aura perhaps, beckoning her.
She stood in the doorway to his bedroom,
the door half-open, half-
closed. He wasn't even under the covers, sprawled over the bed
asleep in his pajama bottoms. When did Mulder start wearing
pajamas? One hand was raised over his head and the other rested
on his belly. She stared for a long time at the sparse hairs of
his chest thinking about what they would feel like against her
cheek. Such a strange time in her life she had told Daniel only a
day ago, thinking of Mulder, thinking of the fact that he
infuriated her always running, running, even as she fell in love
with him again and again and again, for all of his stupid old
games and habits. They were inching forward, both so close since
the New Year's kiss and his mother's death and yet so far, always
chasing the next big thing, just a few weeks ago with Cancerman
and then his run-in with the monster in Vermont. When he'd gotten
back, he'd asked her if she considered him her significant other
and she so desperately wanted to say yes. "Sometimes," she told
him. "Like when we're walking somewhere and your hand is on my
back or when we're just together in the car driving somewhere,
anywhere, and I wouldn't change a thing." He nodded--end of
conversation. But this thing with Daniel, it made her realize
that Mulder was always her significant other. When Daniel's hand
was on her cheek and then when she lay her head on his chest, she
was crying, but it wasn't for what she lost but what she was
afraid of losing, this tenuous, precious thing with Mulder that
they never really talked about. Maybe I want the life I didn't
choose, she'd said, meaning both the life that chose her, this
life with Mulder, and the life she could have had with the house
and the kids and the dog, the life she only wanted to have with
Mulder but that just didn't seem possible.
She turned to leave. "Stay."
His voice was gravelly. How long
had he been awake? How long had he known she was watching? She
nodded almost imperceptibly and walked toward the bed. She took
her jacket off and lay it over the footboard and then she crawled
up next to him, so her knees were almost touching his hip, so her
shoulder was almost touching his, so their mouths were just inches
apart. "If we only have one choice, one life to choose, I'm so
glad," she said, answering him.
"Glad for what?"
"To have this, this life. Sometimes,
though, I just want to slow
down and just be in the moment, you know."
"Stop the car?" He did this
often, circled back to a conversation
they had days ago, weeks ago, years ago, expecting her to pick up
the rhythm of his thoughts.
She nodded. "To enjoy this life, savor it, not give it up."
He pulled her up against him and she
snuggled her head under his
chin. A perfect fit. "When I told you the other day I was afraid
of what I'd be missing, I wasn't being entirely honest. I'm
afraid Scully I don't know what it means to slow down. I'm not
sure I'd be good at. But I'm really good at running."
"And ditching..." she chided,
but she smiled to let him know she
was kidding.
"And ditching" he repeated and then kissed her hair.
"But I'm also afraid that if
I dont' slow down, stop the
metaphorical car, I'll be missing something too."
"What's that Mulder?"
"Moments like this, quiet moments
in the middle of the night in
bed with you that don't invovle some sleazy dive and eating take
out and going through case files. Moments like going shopping to
pick out sheets or herbal tea. Watching TV together. Watching
you sleep. Kissing you just because, not because one of us is
sick or injured or in pain and then thinking about the taste of
your mouth."
She was crying. "Moments like
this," she said back to him and
then kissed his forehead. She looked into his eyes and saw
herself there, cyring, smiling, saw herself getting bigger as he
pulled her mouth to his, hand on the back of her neck. She closed
her eyes and time seemed to expand. All things were in this
moment.