From: Ten <kristena@ocean.com.au> Date: Thu, 22 Jun 2000 23:10:28 +1000 Subject: "New Millennium: Rushed" (1/2) by Ten Source: xff TITLE: "New Millennium: Rushed" (1/2) BY: Ten E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au CATEGORY: V; MSR; A; H RATING: Hmmm. One friend said it was definitely an R, another said it was 'Mature PG-13'. Either way, there are adult situations, so I guess 'Light R'. SUMMARY: The honeymoon comes to an end, and our newlyweds return to work and find themselves dealing with more than just an X-File. TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Set during and after "Rush". Mention of "Field Trip". Part of Vickie's and my "New Millennium" series. It is set after "New Millennium: The Jig is Up". There will not be a Mulder POV to this episode - he's going to give you a guided tour of "The Goldberg Variation" instead. ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer stay intact. FEEDBACK: Love it. THANKS TO: Gerry, Debbie, Mac, Frog, and, of course, Vickie. And the Betty voters! The stories in this series are available at my website: http://tenxffic.iwarp.com Click on the "New Millennium" banner. DISCLAIMER: The X-Files, the episodes referred to, Mulder and Scully and all other characters from the show belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be gained. Characters not recognised from the show are Vickie's or mine. "New Millennium: Rushed" (1/2) By Ten xXx Dana Scully's apartment Morning: I'm in bloom. Before Mulder and I admitted our love, I was like a rose locked permanently in bud. But Sleeping Beauty has awoken. And after one hundred years of celibacy, she's damn horny. Take this last half hour or so. I told Mulder that we were taking Mom out to brunch and that I was just going to pop out to buy her some flowers before she arrived. Mulder nodded and padded over in his bare feet to kiss me goodbye. That little peck on the cheek swiftly turned into monumental sex up against the wall beside my front door. I'm not quite sure who the instigator was, but basically we went at it until we couldn't stay upright anymore. Or something couldn't stay upright anymore and had to let loose... Then we were on our knees on the floor, catching our breath, clinging together, both sated. I was between Mulder and the wall. Between the rock and the not-so-hard- anymore place. Eventually Mulder got me to my feet again and helped me rearrange and tuck and pull various pieces of apparel back on or into place. The button on my waistband had absconded. "Flowers," he reminded me with a smug grin. "Flowers," I agreed, though if anyone had shown me a scrubbing brush right then and told me it was a bunch of roses, I would have been none the wiser. I popped out of my daze. "My hair!" I went for a mirror, but Mulder stopped me. "It's windy out. No one will think your hair is a mess due to a quickie. Besides, all the action took place well below the neckline!" I tried to regain some control. "Stop looking so smug and pick up your clothes. I don't want Mom slipping on your silk boxers and cracking her head on the floor." "I don't think they'd suit her..." "You KNOW what I mean." "I HOPE I do, otherwise I don't know Mom as well as I thought!" He hurried out of my line of fire. xXx I have to be careful with the door as I leave. It has been several days since Skinner busted it up slightly when misguidedly assuming the screams he could hear from within were me under attack. Typical ex-marine, just barging in... As much as I appreciate his gallantry and understand his error, Mulder and I would have much rather he found out about our marriage and relationship via more conventional means instead of nearly stumbling over our clinched and naked bodies on my living room floor. Sheesh. And I guess that after breaking the door, he couldn't have just snuck out once he realised what he'd stumbled into. I'm just glad that our banging against the wall just now didn't tempt the door into giving up the ghost completely and revealing all to the neighbours. Mulder tried to fix the damaged hinge, and since then the door has stood its ground, but in our line of business and in our desire for assured privacy, we're getting the door and hinges and lock completely replaced. We had our hearing into the Millennium Group case yesterday, about the use of our weapons and so on. When it was over and Mulder and I had a moment out in the hallway alone with Skinner, our boss told me to send him the repair bills for the door. "Consider it my gift." He didn't mention the word 'wedding' in case the walls had ears, but we knew what he meant. xXx The flowers have been bought and I'm putting them in a vase, and the living room is tidy. My back is a little sore from our session. The twinges from doing it on the hardwood floor - even with the rug under me as a buffer - had only just subsided. I may have to insist on limiting amorous adventures to the bed or sofa (at either apartment) for the next week or so. However, we're due back at work in a few days, and if we get a case, we had better cool it. I stretch cautiously. Better learn to pace myself. I'm not as young as I used to be. Then I smile and shake my head. "What's so funny?" Mulder asks, coming up behind me. I indicate the flowers. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I've never felt so much in bloom." Mulder gives me a hug. "And it's great to see." He traces my lips with a fingertip, making my smile even wider. There is a knock at the door. Mom's happy face is encircled by the peephole. I open the door, and although it doesn't cave in, it does creak alarmingly, like a death rattle. Mom's face changes to a look of alarm. "Who kicked down your door?" I can hear the unspoken - and fully justified - 'AGAIN' at the end of that sentence. Unfortunately, I've put her through this scenario more than once. "Are you two all right?" "Yes, Mom. Sorry to alarm you. It wasn't what you think. It was a ... misunderstanding. Come in and have some tea and we'll tell you about it." The abbreviated version, naturally. "Then we'll go have brunch." xXx Mom looks at me over the lip of her teacup. "So Mr Skinner now knows about the two of you?" In flesh-toned technicolour. I nod. Yet Mom's not worried or upset. She's not even chuckling at what happened. She's got that look on her face, that calculating look... Uh oh - she thinks that now that he knows... So I hasten to clarify: "He knows, but we're still keeping this under wraps, so to speak. He's advised us it would be best." She can't hide her disappointment. "For how long?" I can just tell that my husband wants to say, "Until we get sprung doing it on the desk in the basement - or in the bullpen." But he restrains himself and reaches over for another cookie. Mom puts down her cup and reaches into her handbag. "Well, now is as good a time as any," she says cryptically. As Mulder and I exchange glances, she produces what appears to be a bank passbook. When she hands it over to me, I realise that's exactly what it is. "Mom?" I question. The cover and corners have been worn down with handling. I'm hesitant to open it. "My wedding present. Actually, from your father just as much as from me." She indicates that I should have a look. Mulder's hand rests on my knee and he moves slightly closer to me. I open the passbook. It is for an account that used to be in both Mom and Dad's name, which was then transferred completely into Mom's when Ahab died. My eyes skim down the details, which are mostly deposits. When I reach the final figure, I blink. "Mom, there's just over fifteen thousand dollars in here! You can't... We can't possibly accept this." Mom calmly holds a finger up to halt any further protests. "Your father and I started that account when you were about three years old. We decided it would be a good way to ensure we'd be ready for when you girls got married." She fingers her cup and I know she is thinking about Melissa. I can feel Mulder's hand tighten on my knee. But Mom isn't tearing up. Her eyes are wistful though. "Mag - Mom," Mulder hastily corrects himself. He swallows. "I'm sorry. When I tricked Scully into going to Connecticut with me, I didn't think how much I would be depriving you of. Both of you." Mulder turns to me. "You didn't get a chance to get married in a nice dress or have your family there to witness it," then he turns to Mom, but he can't meet her eyes, "and you didn't get to have the fun of planning a big wedding for..." He can't bring himself to say 'for your only surviving daughter'. "Fox, no!" Mom's voice is gentle as she reaches across for his hand, then she decides that's not enough and comes around to hug him. "I think you did what you had to do in the circumstances. I'm *so glad* you did what you did. The end result was worth it. And I know that times have changed. The boys paid mostly for their own weddings. And of course Tara and Jane were working too. But I want to give this to you both. I'm not giving you this to make an unsubtle hint or make you feel guilty, though a renewal of vows would be lovely. This can pay for a reception - when the time is right - or a honeymoon or towards a house. Otherwise I'll spend it all on tacky lawn ornaments." We all grin at the threat. "But Mom," I point out, "There must be things that you could spend this on. For yourself. A nest egg for your future." Mom isn't to be put off. "I've been careful. And I always knew I had this on hand to offer if something major happened. A few years ago, this was the money I was referring to when you were so sick, honey." I remember now. Mom was worried that the bills my medical insurance wasn't covering would drain my finances dry. Her offer of help and my 'trying to be tactful' refusal of it had us teetering on the edge of a major argument... Mulder puts his arm around me, breaking me out of the past. We look at each other contemplatively. Then I lean my head against Mulder's shoulder and say, "You'll get a white wedding, Mom. Or at least pretty close. At some stage down the track. Thank you." She kisses me, then my husband. "I'll arrange the paperwork for the transfer into an account of your own." She returns to her seat and her tea with an air of satisfaction. xXx Scully's apartment Tuesday, January 18th Just after 7am: There is a gentle pounding from the other side of the bathroom door. "Sculleee!" The plaintive puppy dog voice. "I know it's our first day back at work and all, but if you don't let me into the bathroom NOW, we are going to be LATE! I promise I won't pull you into the shower and ravish you..." I knew we should have spent last night at our separate apartments. I knew it... But being next to him each night, holding him... We had a day's extra grace from the inevitable yesterday due to the Martin Luther King public holiday, but time and tide - "Scully!" The hinges rattle. "I'm gonna pick the lock!" I confront the mirror once more, then swear and reach over to let Mulder in. Then I pick up the blowdryer again. Mulder eyes it as he comes in. Ever since we became lovers, my hair has gone wavy, almost curly. Don't ask. I have no idea. I just have to get it straight again before we go. Mulder shakes his head at all my effort. "Just say that you got it permed!" Then he looks at my pantsuit. "Black. I thought you were going to lighten it up a little." He sees my stricken expression and the way that the blowdryer is wobbling in my hand, though I'm tempted to bludgeon him with it. "Dana, it's going to be okay." He puts his arms around me and rubs a hand up and down my back. "Remember all the other things we've got past: the division being closed, injuries, illness, kidnappings... We've been able to walk into the office after leaves of absence and go back to work. At least this time something *good* happened." That's very true. All of it. "I know. We won't let this interfere with work. I'm just afraid that someone's going to realise or we'll let slip or I'll smile too much or grab your hand without thinking." I take a deep breath and gesture at my dark-clad body. "I'm wearing black to 'make' myself act the same way as I used to. To subdue myself. Preserve the facade. I'll change into something more cheerful tonight." "You don't have to wear the rings if you think they'll be seen." Mulder gently pushes aside the left wing of my collar to reveal the length of chain my shirt conceals. My engagement and wedding rings rest at the end of the loop, between my breasts. Personally, I'd rather have the rings proudly on my finger and Mulder between my breasts - argh! I've got to stop thinking like that! "I'm always going to have them with me, Mulder. I'm your wife. Now I'll let you get ready, and we'll get this show on the road." xXx We have a meeting with Skinner. I know he is going to be assessing us carefully over the next days and weeks, to see if our new level of partnership is going to ruin our professionalism. I meet Skinner's eyes squarely and answer relevant questions with ease. I will not let my brain replay the sight of him staring down at me on my living room floor. I saw a lot on his face within a second: concern that I had been assaulted, realisation and relief that this was something consensual, then embarrassment, sheer amazement and disbelief that I, Dana Katherine Scully, had just got laid, recognition of who my co-conspirator was (at that point Skinner glared at the back of Mulder's head as if to say, "You're crushing one of my best agents there, mister."), and some expression that blended annoyance, amusement and ... disappointment? Not that I cared. I was pissed. I'd just had a hell of a good time - physically, mentally and spiritually - and I wanted to throttle Skinner for interrupting it, even post- fireworks. Memories are made of this... Anyway - being back in the suit and in the building and just on the job - though we haven't got a new case yet - fortunately seems to subvert any 'wifely' behavior on my part. But then again, rumours have run rife for years about our relationship and our behavior towards each other. So I guess we're covered if we slip up. END PART ONE OF TWO. TITLE: "New Millennium: Rushed" (2/2) BY: Ten E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au xXx I'm driving to join Mulder in Pittsfield now. We've got a case. Time to prove in the field what we are proving in the office. And time to get back to our work. The case... A police deputy was beaten to death by an invisible assailant, according to the young man, Tony Reed, who is accused of his murder. Yes, well. Mulder thinks the boy is innocent. Then I see the deputy's body. Or rather, what has been done to his head. Smashed in with such force that his glasses were driven right through his brain to the back of his skull. Mulder, of course, suspects something paranormal is afoot. I diligently bring up scientific theories as to how the hell a teenage boy wielding a police flashlight could have possibly done this with a single blow. PCP influence. A stimulant. Adrenaline. Eating his Wheaties... The usual perfunctory dance. After Mulder and I were rescued from slow digestion from that fungus in Brown Mountain, North Carolina, and once the hallucinations wore off, we had a long talk. It was about Mulder's pre-case comment that he thought he had earned the benefit of the doubt instead of me always shooting his theories down from the outset. I admitted that I may come across as disbelieving even after all that I have seen, that sometimes it looked like my sole pleasure in life is to poke holes in his theories and cases, and I was sorry if I went too far. A mixture of habit and knowingly chaining myself to science to give him the freedom to fly, but without going too far and melting his wings with the sun. And perhaps I also got crabby sometimes because seven years of not.... Um. Well, there was a certain frustration in working with him all that time and longing and not touching or getting any action... We cleared the air and came to an understanding. We may have to have that talk again after this case, or even before it is over, just in case Mulder thinks I'm going to loosen my chains because we are married and just in case I tighten the chains for that very same reason. I don't want to go overboard, either way. Will have to use this as a test run. That's not all we have to deal with. At the police station, a pretty blonde girl bumps into Mulder. Or perhaps it was the other way around. She smiles, and who could blame her, but I want to whip my rings out of my cleavage and brandish them in front of her face and say, "MINE!" and ban Mulder from looking at any other woman ever. Mulder looks at me, amused. "What?" Sigh. I need coffee. The girl was there to visit Tony Reed. I later find out that her name is 'Chastity' Raines. Wishful thinking indeed, Mr and Mrs Raines. Though when I step into the interrogation room and see Tony Reed, he does have the frame of a reed. *This* is the person who crumpled the deputy's head in like it was paper mache? Mulder tells him that this is his "lucky day for visitors" as he introduces me, which means he did notice that girl. But my husband is putting me in the same category as her. Is that good or bad? I brush the thought aside. There is a case to solve. My partner keeps trying to extract information from Tony. "Come on, you were cruising, right? I mean, a small town like this, you're not exactly living La Vida Loca. I know - I grew up in Dullsville, too, you know. Nothing to do but drive and park." Did I just feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of that? Tony looked at him belligerently. "How long ago was that?" Soon Mulder and I are back out in the corridor. I say, "I'm inclined to agree that Tony Reed did not commit murder, but I think he saw the person who did, and he may be covering up for him." Mulder thinks there was a force at work, like a poltergeist. My partner may be soaring towards the sun again or towards the truth, but we *need* to check out a few other possibilities as well. Preferably first. Time for me to reach up there and not ruffle his feathers unduly, but stroke them in just the right direction to serve himself, me and the case. "Mulder... Rather than spirits... can we at least start with Tony's friends?" I put on a slightly coy tone, look up from under my lashes and play with my husband's tie. With the angle that we are on against the wall, no one can see the gesture except the two of us. "Please? Just...for me? I think there's one person in particular I'd like to talk to." From the look on Mulder's face, I'm not going to have to risk arrest by playing with anything else in order to get my way. But next time I want the garbage taken out... xXx Adams High. A high school like countless others. I look at the bustle and all the young faces and the couples walking hand in hand and exchanging secrets, girls wearing their guy's letter jackets. And I think about myself at this age, so studious, so non- social. I went through so much of my life before Mulder and I ever met. It seems hard to believe. All those years. I wonder what it would have been like if we had been childhood or college sweethearts. Upon being questioned about the deputy's death and her and Tony's role in it, Chastity has an attitude as subtle as her purple and yellow school jacket. I have my suspicions about her, and not because she says she 'remembers' Mulder from earlier on. Then her boyfriend, who is the sheriff's son, Max Harden, interrupts. Youth doesn't have the respect for authority that it once had. If at that age an adult had produced federal ID and asked me questions, I would have told them whatever they wanted to know. All Max said, apart from telling us to basically go to hell, was that I "must have been a Betty back in the day". Like I wasn't already well aware that I'm old, speeding towards forty. xXx The flashlight used to kill the deputy has gone missing from the police station. When Mulder gets Chuck Burks to investigate a blur on the surveillance video, I tell Chuck I hope we haven't wasted his time on a glitch. Being the sceptic is a delicate act. Again - don't let Mulder rise too high about something like this, because picking him up after a crash is never pretty. But hope this yields some proof for him. Us. Chuck goes into the sort of things he would expect to pick up if this blur was spirit activity: light streaks, auras, atmospheric disturbances, translucent figures. What we apparently have though, is purple and yellow streaks... And news that a teacher has somehow been pinned to the wall by a table and a chair at Adams High. Halfway up the wall. A teacher who had just had an altercation with Max, but Max was across the other side of the room when the teacher was killed. Or was he? Teenagers moving faster than a flash? How? xXx Max and Chastity are dead. It happened in a cave in the woods - a place that the unfortunate deputy had nearly discovered, and it cost him his life. I do the autopsies and announce to Mulder that somehow Chastity shot Max in the back from one angle and yet was killed herself by the same bullet when it came out through his chest. Tony told us she deliberately made it a murder/suicide. She didn't want to go back to being a normal teenager. Once she had 'tasted the rush' of being able to move so fast, nothing else was good enough, even though the toll it took on the human body was increasingly debilitating. Mulder believes the cave had something in it that gave the teenagers this ability, this 'buzz'. Tony refused to elaborate on that point. Geologists found nothing concrete - or at least nothing they let on - and did some concreting of their own, filling in the cave as a precautionary measure. By the time Mulder found out, it was too late to stop them. He's not a happy camper, and neither am I. Deaths that we couldn't prevent or adequately solve. No firm proof of how. Tony is alive, but although his body was not put under as much strain by the 'rush' as Max's and Chastity's and it appears that he can go back to being a normal kid, it is his soul that is devastated by what has happened. I can still see him cradling Chastity's body in his arms. Life and youth and love lost. If the cave is the key, then why haven't Mulder or I been affected? Did the power 'go'? Mulder's reply was, "What if we're too old? Well, you said that teenagers differ from adults chemically and physiologically. What if whatever is in that cave affects only them?" The case is over, the report has been typed up and handed in and Skinner seems satisfied. Now it's Friday night. We've just got home. I've found myself looking in mirrors a lot. Not brandishing the blowdryer, but despairing about any hair that looks like it might even be thinking about adopting a grey hue and examining my face for signs of wear. Also flicking through my old photo album covering the teenage years and my twenties. Thursday night I dreamt of meeting Mulder at college. A big wedding right after graduation. Children a few years later. Big noisy meals around the table. There was a time for Betty to have her day, and I do believe that I've missed it. It has passed me by in a rush. A few times in my youthful past I thought I did have something, 'my day', or was about to, but soon realised my mistake. Mulder asks me what's wrong, and I can't articulate it. I don't know what I'm searching for. I have the man of my dreams, but instead of being happy, I'm just seeing all the time we've lost. Now he's hesitant to approach me. But he does. He puts down the casual clothes he was going to change into. "You're regretting it, aren't you?" "I don't really know. All those years..." "I've taken a lot from you." I look at him, startled. "What? "Seven years of a whole lot of bad things happening to you. It's a big chunk out of anyone's life... What I've taken." Realisation hits. My husband is holding himself accountable for every line, every loss. I'm not the only one having a slight mid- life crisis. "Mulder, I'm not - this is not me regretting *us*. I'm just...a bit wistful that I didn't meet you earlier, that I was a Betty back in the day, instead of now. Not that being a Betty is anything much." He blinks. "Wait a minute - you're talking about what Max said to you? Which Betty do you think he was referring to?" "Betty from the Archie comics, I guess. A female nerd. Or Betty Rubble." "Why does it have to be an insult?" Mulder reasons. "Sounded like a compliment to me. Betty Cooper sure was sexy and smart. Always had a crush on her instead of Veronica. Veronica was too shallow. Phoebe-ish." My turn to blink. "So Max was giving me a backhanded compliment?" "That's about the only way the teenage male knows how to give one. And perhaps he meant Bettie Page. Now she was an undisputed looker." I think she was an old-time movie actress or pin-up queen. "Bettie Page... I barely know who she was, so how on earth would Max? Hey, wasn't she often depicted in bondage gear?" My husband grins and shrugs. "Sometimes... But bondage gear or not, Scully, you're a Bettie Page pin-up EVERY day. A world class stunner." To him, that is the truth. He may be a little biased towards me, but so am I in regard to him. "I'm so lucky that I'm the guy who you chose to be with for the rest of your life." Suddenly I start to feel better. Those simple but heartfelt words are cutting through my overreactions. "Luck had nothing to do with it, G-man. A lot of love and, as much as we both believe in an amount of free will, some destiny in there too." I look at my husband, who despite all he has gone through is alive and smiling and with me. "My years of study and 'waiting' weren't wasted. I've used that knowledge countless times on our cases and to save lives, including yours. You didn't steal seven years of my life - you've expanded them in ways that no one else ever could. We didn't meet until I was in my late twenties, but we DID meet, and eventually we DID get together." And that is the most important thing. I am glad with the way things turned out, though I do have pangs of regret about issues like my barrenness and the cancer. I grin. "Though I kind of wish my back didn't ache after we do it on the floor." "Babe, doing it on a hardwood floor has repercussions at any age." "True." "Come here." I immediately and willingly enter my husband's arms. After a long hug, he steps back a little and cups my face, studying it with reverence and relief. I feel a rush. A rush of love so strong that it would put whatever those teenagers tapped into in its shade. That's right. I'm in bloom. And even a late starter can have a damn good time. I probably couldn't have blazed this brightly any earlier. I have the capacity now, thanks to this man. This is our time now. We are kissing. Years of angst and conformity are vanishing from me. One of my hands plays with Mulder's tie, the other matching the movements down lower. I think I could get him to do anything for me right now, not just take out the garbage. And I'm sure I am going to see purple and yellow streaks myself very soon. Taking even firmer hold of Mulder's tie, I pull him into the bedroom. There I plunder Mulder's shirt, seeking his skin. "As Chuck Burks said, I dig a mystery with layers..." "I'll show you my theory if you show me yours," is Mulder's ragged reply. Recalling Chuck's results about the identity of the video camera blur, I can't help pressing up against Mulder and remarking about a certain spot, "Hmmm, I've cross-referenced this shape's silhouette against every organic and inorganic object in the Library of Congress database. The closest match was a Soviet Acula- class submarine!" Certainly appropriate. "Well, it's preparing for a crash dive!" And I'm ready for it. I may not be a teenager, but I certainly feel like it, and everything about me is changing. My body and brain chemistry is in a state of unparalleled upheaval. An adrenaline response which is known to enable feats of near- superhuman strength. And Mulder definitely eats his Wheaties... I see light streaks, auras and atmospheric disturbances, though not any figures, translucent or otherwise. One solid Skinner that other time was quite enough. Then the lights and explosions have gone, but what is left in my arms I'm not letting go of in a hurry. THE END.