From: Vickie Moseley <vmoseley@fgi.net>
Date: Sat, 26 Feb 2000 07:34:10 -0600
Subject: xfc: NEW:  Entering the New Millennium (1 of 1)
Source: xfc

Title:  Entering the New Millennium
Author:  Vickie Moseley
Spoiler:  None that I can remember
Category:  V, MSR, A, H, tiny MT
Rating:  G
Disclaimer:  So we have been 'hassling' you, Chris?  Well, I hope you feel
hassled next time you balance your checkbook.  Good thing I don't offend
easily.  I just take matters into my own hands.  But without the monetary
rewards.  This is a labor of love.  Love.  Look it up.  It's in the
dictionary.  By the way, it's also a verb.
Archives:  Yes
Notes:  This is the next of the New Millennium series.  I didn't know I was
starting a series when I did the first one, but Ten convinced me it was
when she wrote the second one, Consummating the New Millennium.  There are
more in the works.  We're passing the baton back and forth so she gets the
next one.  There are some fun things planned, but don't yell if it takes us
some time to get them out.  We're dealing with heat waves, power
restrictions, limited internet access and way too much stuff on our plates.
 Be patient with us, it will be worth it, I promise!
Starting the New Millennium
Consummating the New Millennium
Entering the New Millennium

Entering the New Millennium
By Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net

Saturday, January 1, 2000, 12:05 am
Scully residence,
Baltimore, MD

I'm standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter next to the sink.
My arm is really starting to throb, but it's nothing compared to what Bill
Scully's cheek must be feeling like right now.  The poor SOB is chewing the
inside of his mouth so hard, he's got to be leaving teeth marks in his wake.

We're staring at each other like two tigers on the savannah over a still
suffering wildebeest.

Bill draws in a huge lungful of air and slowly let it out.

I continue my close inspection of the crack in the plaster just to the
right of the doorframe directly behind him.  Is it my imagination, or does
that look like the imprint of a fist?

"So, Mulder."  

I jerk my head the fraction of an inch to look Bill in the eyes.  Maybe
that's a mistake.  You aren't supposed to do that with brothers-in-law.  Or
is that snakes?

I finally realize then that the dead air is my cue to respond.  "Yeah?"
I'll save my extensive knowledge of the English language for my wife, thank
you very much.

He narrows his gaze.  I think he was expecting more out of me.  Whatever.
Then he heaves in more air.  It's taking him a lot of oxygen just to be in
the same room with me.  Or maybe he's trying to use up all of the air so I
don't get any.

"Beer?"

I blink.  Suddenly, it dawns on me.  That's an offer.  

"Uh, no.  Thanks."  I say.  Then, just because for some stupid reason my
manhood seems to be in question by my answer, I add "pain pills."  Oh, and
I wiggle my sling just enough to send screaming hot agony coursing up my
arm.  Fantastic move, that.  A few more like that one and I can show Billy
here what a he-man I am by passing out right on his mother's shining tile
floor.

He nods at my answer, considering it.  Like it could be a lie.  Like
someone would lie about something like that.  Or maybe just that he can't
trust anything that comes from me.

"A glass of water would be nice," I manage to say.  I'm standing by the
sink; I know where Mrs. Scully keeps the glasses.  I could do this chore
myself, but Bill wants to be hospitable and I should make the effort to let
him.

"Glasses are right behind you," he growls.

Or maybe not.

I'm trying to decide if it's safe to turn my back to open the cabinet door
when my wife of a dozen or so hours comes into the room, glowing.  That's
how she's looked since we left the motel, I've noticed.  She's glowing!  I
did that!  I want to shout it from the mountaintops.

Bill stares at his sister as she comes over to me and gets the glass out of
the cabinet while I'm still reaching up for it.  She leans up and kisses me
lightly on the lips before going over to the refrigerator and filling the
glass with ice, just to the brim, like I like it, and then coming back to
stand beside me.  

She turns on the tap, holding her finger under the running water, waiting
until it is good and cold.  Did I mention this woman loves me?  And then
she fills the glass and hands it to me like it's the apple, she's Eve and
we're in the Garden of Eden.

That would explain the snake currently hissing and coiled to strike near
the doorway.

The door opens again, this time almost knocking ole Bill for a loop and
Scully's mom, er, my mother-in-law, comes into the room.  She's beaming,
too.  But I swear I never laid a hand on her!

She glides over and gives my wife a hug, then reaches up and cups my cheek.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?" she asks and at that moment I
could kick myself for not dragging Scully to Uncle Jacob's years ago.  

I swallow the water, which is cold enough to burn my throat, and try to
dislodge the lump near my voice box.

"So, is it settled?" she asks, looking first at Scully and then at me. 

Scully looks a little contrite and then smiles up shyly.  "Mom wants us to
stay the night."

I'm pretty sure that cracking sound is Billy's molars, but I take one look
in Scully's eyes and see that the decision has been made.  I really wanted
to go home tonight, but then, that's another question.  Where is home?
Wherever it is, it better have a bed big enough for the both of us.  So I
nod and look over at her Mom.

"That's very sweet, Mrs. Scully.  Of course we'll stay."

And I get a smack in the arm for my efforts! 

"Fox!  No more 'Mrs. Scully', young man.  Call me Mom, call me Maggie, but
don't call me Mrs. Scully!  We're family, now.  Aren't we Bill?"

He's speechless for a moment, until his mother's glare gives him back his
voice.  "Yeah, sure, Mom.  Family."

Why does the name Soprano suddenly spring to mind?

"Are you sure you don't want something to eat?  I could fix you a sandwich,
and I have some soup I could heat up."

"Mom, I told you, we ate on the road.  We're really not that hungry.  We
just need to turn in for the night," my very practical, and incredibly sexy
wife tells her mother.

Billy turns purple and I think I'm about to witness a head actually
explode.  Damn, if I only had a camera!

"Well, your room only has the twin beds," Mrs., er, Mag, er, Mom says with
a frown.  "And that won't do at all," she adds emphatically.  I'm beginning
to see where my wife got her, um, drive.  "I know!  You take my room and
I'll take your old room, Dana," she exclaims with glee.

Bill suddenly starts to choke.

No, I'm not kidding.  The guy is coughing up a storm, clutching his throat,
turning blue and I'm trying to decide if I can risk getting close enough to
him to do the Heimlich maneuver.  My wife, did I mention that I married a
doctor? - beats me to it.  But by the time she gets to his side, he's
breathing again.

"Mom, maybe I should go to a motel for the night," he says when he
recovers, glaring at me.

"Actually, Mom," I say with all the strength of will within me, "Dana and I
can stay in her old room.  It's just for one night and I really don't want
to put you out.  Besides," I add, holding up my arm again and trying to
remind myself never to do that, "I'm afraid I'm on the disabled list for a
while."

Mom looks perplexed, then it's like a light bulb shines above her head.
"Oh, how silly of me.  Of course, Fox.  But are you sure?"

I flash Scully a quick look and she nods so that only I can see.  She
caught Bill's death rattle, and it was aimed in my direction.  Better to
have a live, albeit horny husband, than one who died with a smile on his face.

"Mulder's right, Mom.  My old room will be fine.  Besides, we have to get
up early if we're going to 8:30 Mass."

I feel faint.  Mass?  As in 'church'?  

It's not that I forgot that Scully goes to Mass.  Sometimes, when we're on
a case and it's Sunday, I'll even drive her to the closest Catholic Church
and sit outside reading the paper for the 55 minutes she's inside.  Once in
a great while, it will get too cold or too hot in the car and I'll come in,
usually at the end.  It's nice inside a church; the windows are pretty to
look at.  The altar tends to weird me out, but I can always concentrate on
the people praying and it doesn't bother me that much.  But to sit there,
in the pew, for the whole 55 . . ."

"Oh, that's right.  Father McCue said he could bless your rings tomorrow.
But he'd really like it if you'd consider renewing your vows before a
priest, sweetheart, maybe have a real church wedding with a Mass.  How
often will you have the opportunity?  Marriage is a sacrament, you know."

Sacrament?  I know that word.  Baptism, Communion, Confirmation, Matrimony,
Holy Orders, Extreme Unction.  I'm not sure where I learned them, but
they're filed away in the hard drive that is my mind.  I do believe in God,
contrary to what Scully might think.  He and I have just never been on
close terms.  

Then my mind does a quick replay of the first part of their discussion and
I realize that the whole issue of sacraments is about the least of my
worries.  How is Father McCue going to bless rings that we don't have?

"Oh, drat!" my lovely wife says with a scowl.  "Mom, we haven't gotten our
rings, yet."

"You don't have a ring," Bill sputters, as if that's tantamount to having
sex with my wife right here, in the kitchen, with everyone watching.

"It was sort of spur of the moment, seven years in the making," Scully says
with a sly smirk up to me.

Bill mutters something and I'm pretty sure the words aren't 'ducking banister'

Mom must not have heard him because she gets this really wistful look on
her face and nods to herself.  "Just a minute.  Don't anyone go anywhere."

I'm not moving.  Besides, Billy is still blocking the door.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs echoes through the silent house.  I
think I can hear as Mom makes her way down the hallway of the second floor,
I'm pretty sure she enters what I know to be her room.  If I strain, I can
hear a bureau drawer opening.  Then more footsteps and I can almost
announce the instant she pushes open the kitchen door.

"See if these fit," she says without ceremony and hands both of us rings.
Gold bands, very simple, sturdy, but elegant at the same time.  Scully
starts to slip hers on her left hand ring finger, but I realize that's not
right.  I grab her hand and slide the ring on her finger, looking into her
eyes the whole time.  

"For better or worse," I whisper.  "For richer or poorer."

She's biting her lip and I'm sure I see tears in those deep azure eyes.

Scully takes the ring out of my hand and gently glides it on my finger.
"In sickness and in health.  Forsaking all others, till death . . . No,
Mulder.  Not even then," she whispers and leans up to kiss me.

I almost don't notice that the ring fits perfectly.  I lean forward and we
rest our foreheads together.

"Real touching," Billy snorts.  "Excuse me, but I need a beer."  He pops
the pull-tab of one can and drains two-thirds of the contents in one long
swallow.

I can't take my eyes off the rings.  I've never seen a ring that fit my
hand so well.  It was like it was made for me.  And Scully's ring fits her,
I can see.  She's wiggling her hand upside down, amazed that the band
doesn't fall off her finger.

"Whose ring is this, Mom?" I ask innocently.

"Whose ring?" Bill repeats, before his mother can open her mouth.  "Mulder,
you sorry son of a bitch, the ring you are now wearing . . . belonged to my
Dad."  And with that pronouncement, he grabs the rest of the six pack and
shoves his way out the door and into the darkened living room.

I look up.  I'm stunned.  Mom has tears in her eyes, but they seem to be
tears of happiness.  

"He's right.  That was the Captain's ring.  I've kept it for a long time.
It hadn't fit him for several years.  I had another one made for him, which
we got blessed at Church one Sunday and he wore it till the day he died.
It was buried with him.  But that one on your finger is the ring I put on
his finger the day we were married.  I only hope you two have as happy a
marriage as we did."  Then, she really starts to cry.

Scully, about the same time I do, notices that her mother's hand is naked.
"Mom, I can't take your ring," she protests and I fully agree.  I couldn't,
it wouldn't feel right, to take her ring.  My stomach is tying itself into
a knot and I'm trying to figure out how to take the ring off and not hurt
Scully's feelings or her mom's.

"Sweetheart, don't be silly.  I don't need those rings to remember your
father.  Besides, they'll bring you luck.  And you both know you need all
the luck you can get."  She reaches out with her hand to caress Scully's
cheek.  "Not another word.  Now, I won't be offended if you should decide
to get your own set.  I mean, these are pretty old and you might find one
of the thinner bands might be prettier . . ."

"No," I say, because I know my wife couldn't speak if she tried right now.
"They are perfect.  Thank you, Mom.  Thank you very much."  I lean down and
kiss her on the cheek.  Tears dampen my lips and I can't tell if they are
Mom's or mine.

"Besides, Mom.  You just saved me a bundle," I tease.  It works, both women
are smiling at me, although one looks a little more predatory than the other.

"But I expect a big fat diamond to go with this, Mulder," my beautiful wife
tosses back at me.

Is the Hope Diamond for sale?

"You'll need a wheelbarrow to carry it around," I assure her in a quiet
whisper.

"Let's go to bed," she purrs back at me.  Wow, that's a voice I'm getting
used to real fast!

"G'night, Mom," we both call over our shoulders as we take leave of the
kitchen and head for the rooms upstairs.

"Mulder, if I could have a word with you," we heard coming from the
darkness of the living room.  Bill is sitting there, somewhere.  From the
sound of his voice, he's in the chair next to the fireplace.  

Scully's arm tightens around my waist, and I know what she's thinking.  She
really doesn't want to become a widow at the hands of her brother.
Especially when she hasn't gotten a real wedding night yet.  Two, although
perfectly wonderful sex-capades in a motel along the roadside were very
nice, but we could have done that anytime.  We kind of want to wake up
together.

"Please.  It won't take long."  Not the voice of a murderer.  Well, I hope
not, at least.

"Sure, Bill," I say with a lot more confidence than I'm feeling.  I kiss my
wife on the forehead.  "Go on up and I'll be there in a minute."

"I'm wearing my gun.  All you have to do is yell, Mulder," she answers and
in the darkness, it's hard to tell if she's kidding.

I give her shoulders a squeeze and place another kiss on her head.  Then I
let go and she does too and I hadn't noticed how cold Mom keeps this place
in winter.

I wait until Scully is all the way upstairs until I go into the living
room.  I walk over to the couch and turn on the light next to it.  I want
to be able to see what's coming at me.  Then I sit down and face him.

Bill is sitting in the chair where I figured he'd be, two more of the six
pack are gone from the plastic ring and he's reaching for a fourth.

"Sure you don't want one?  I mean, one won't kill you, will it?"

No, but it could dampen my reaction time long enough for you to take a
pretty good shot, I'm thinking.

But that's not how this is done.  Level playing field and all the rot.
Bill strikes me as the kind of person who would hate me just for being
sober when he isn't.  Not that he needs even that much of an excuse.

"Well, if you insist, sure, toss me one."  He lofts the one in his hand in
my direction, and I hope it's not as shaken up as I think it will be.  I
tap the top a couple of times to break up the gas and pop the tab.  I take
a sip, he downs another half can.  OK, so that's how it's gonna be.

"I just wanted to talk to you, for a minute," Bill says around a belch.  

"Sure," I answer.  As long as we're dancing around with no exchange of
information, I can be as nice as the next guy.  In Bill's case, maybe nicer.

"She's, uh, she's my sister," he says slowly.  

I think I knew that already, but I'm not saying a word.  This is Bill's
time, I'll have my time, or at least I hope I will.

"My baby sister."  Again, not exactly headline news.

"Yeah, Bill.  I know.  I had a baby sister too," I tell him.  OK, that was
a shot and I hope he got it.

He looks at me and his eyes narrow.  "And you lost her."

OK, Mulder, next time make sure to pull the pin out of the grenade before
you throw it.  That way they can't throw it back at you.

But years of having Scully tell me that night was not my fault are finally
sinking in, I think.  My mouth answers before my mind has a chance to
shrivel into a heaping pile of guilt-goo.

"I didn't lose her, Bill.  My parents did.  I was a victim, as much as she
was."

"Yeah, well, you might not have been to blame then," he agrees.  "But I
want to get something straight.  I'm a grown man, not a kid.  And if you so
much as make her frown, I'll rip your fucking arms off, stuff them down
your throat and then drop you in the ocean a thousand miles from nowhere.
Are we clear on this?"

I down the rest of my beer in one gulp, then crush the can for good
measure.  I stand up slowly, reveling in the fact that for once, I'm
towering over this bastard.  

"Sure, Bill.  We're clear on this.  As long as you know I'll do the same to
you, if you continue to hurt her like you're doing."  I'm proud at how calm
my voice is as I say the words.  And how sincerely I mean exactly what I'm
saying.

Before Bill has a chance to recover, and possibly tear me limb from limb, I
hear another voice behind us.

"I think it's time we all went to bed, boys."  Mom smiles at me, glares a
little at Bill and stands aside so we can lead the way up the stairs.

"We'll finish this later," Bill growls as he walks past me.  

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I tell him.  For some reason, now that
I'm Scully's husband, I feel I have a definite place in her life.  Not that
I didn't before, but it was more undefined, more in the shadows, in the
quiet moments when it was just she and I.  Now, I feel like it's my place
to protect her, even from her own brother.

God, that's a good feeling!

Scully is standing in my way as I try to enter the room.  She's got that
look on her face that I recognize.  The one that she turned on me and
calmly said 'your arm is longer than mine, Mulder' and I found myself
armpit deep in human remains.  I don't like that look, no, not at all.

"I think we can move the nightstand over there," she says, going around the
bed and starting to heft the little white nightstand.  "Oh, crap, it's
full.  Mulder, c'mere and give me a hand."

I see the humor in this statement, where my scientifically trained wife
cannot.

"Scully, all I can give you is a hand.  The other one is tied up for a
while," I point out.

She looks up at me, startled, and then scowls.  "Shit," she says
succinctly.  "You're no help."

I take offense to that, until I see where she's going with this.  There are
twin beds in the room.  They are separated only by the little white
nightstand.  Remove the nightstand, shove the beds together - voila, the
woman is a genius.

"I'll grab it with this hand, you take that end and on the count of three,"
I tell her.

Good god!  What is in this thing?

After much hefting, panting, a few mild curses that I'm sure aren't only
coming from me, the little nightstand is now place haphazardly against the
far wall, partially obstructing the closet door.  Just as well, I don't
think we'll need the closet tonight.

A quick shove on each bed and as I mentioned before, I married a genius.

There's a soft knock on the door and Scully goes to answer it.  Mom sticks
her head in and smiles.  "Oh, good.  You already thought of that.  Well,
have a good night, you two."

"We will, Mom, we will."

At long last, we pull off our clothes and fall into bed.  I decide I can
lose the sling for the night.  It's a distraction, at best.  I can ignore
the tiny pink rosebuds that are sprinkled over the sheets and the
pillowcases.  I try to remember if Scully's bedroom has foo-foo sheets and
I can't.  

Then my wife takes me in her arms and tells me she loves me in a way I
never knew it could be expressed.  And I let her know how very precious she
is to me.

And nothing else in the world matters.

The end.

Vickie

"Duct Tape is like the Force.

It has a light side and a dark side
 and it holds the universe together."

From a tee shirt at the Mall