Subject: Demons, a short story.

From: [email-masked] (Tara O'Shea)
Date: 19 Sep 1994 22:26:13 -0600

Note: This story was started before "Little Green Men" aired.  It
is set before the end of season one of The X-Files.

Apology: Okay, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I'm really nervous
because this is my first X-Files fanfic I've ever written, and in the
past week I've read so much stuff that I had put in here but never 
said anywhere else, and I don't want this to seem like retreading old
news, but I just had to get the damned dialogue out of my head at 2am
and onto the "page" as it were before I went schitzo....  It's really
more of a vignette than a story (a little intense and I think I may work
it into something longer later) but it's a start, and I really need some
feedback.  Gee, five entire pages in four months.  I need to be hit by
lightning.

Okay, I'm thru apologising.  Read it, and tell me why you love it, and
more importantly, why you hate it.  That way, I can see if it's fixable.
Am I being too negative here?  I never used to be this self-conscious,
I'm awed still by the source material is all :)

Demons
by Tara O'Shea
draft 1 - Sept 1994.

	Scully wasn't worried until she realised the date.  Mulder
never took sick days, and was hardly ever late, but she knew he had
a habit of taking off to follow potential leads and he wasn't all
that great about remembering to tell people where he was going.
     It's not like he needed to tell her where he was going to be
every minute of the day, right?
     She tried to think back to a time when she had actually
relished the thought of Mulder not calling her every day.  Now, she
had gotten kind of used to it, and rather expected him to be on the
other end of the line when the phone rang.
     He hadn't called, and no one had seen him, not for two days.
     That's when she looked at the calender and really thought
about it.
                              * * *
     "Whatcha doing?"  Dana took the stool next to Mulder, looking
him with clear, curious eyes.  It had been the third bar she had
checked, and she was glad it was the last.  Mulder smiled a little,
but it wasn't a full fledged Mulder grin, or even close.  It
wouldn't be, not today.
     "You come by to finally buy me a beer?"
     "Don't you think you've had enough?"  Scully noted the circles
under his eyes, and how he slouched over the polished wood and
brass bar.
     "I'm not drunk, Scully."
     "I wasn't saying you were."  Scully tried to sound calm and
unimpressed, bedside manner that she'd never had a chance to use
coming out in full force as she tried to keep her tone light and
normal.  "But it's not like you, Mulder."
     "Yes, it is."
     "Am I intruding on a ritual?"
     This prompted a short bark of laughter, but Mulder's eyes told
her the smile was lying.  "Maybe I just wanted to sample the
excellent night life of this fair city?  Aren't you always the one
telling me I need to get a life?"
     "I never pictured you one to celebrate alone, unless you're
not celebrating that is."
     "You catch many fish with that act, Ms. Scully?"
     "C'mon, Mulder.  It's me.  I just want to understand, don't
push me away."
     "Go home, Scully."  His eyes were hard, and she frowned.
     "Mulder--"
     "Yes, you are intruding, so just leave, okay?"
                              * * *
     Curled up with a cup of tea on her sofa, Scully admitted she
had been a little taken aback by Fox Mulder when they had first
been paired.  One moment he was cynical and guarded, and the next
he seemed... overly familiar.  Looking back now, she decided that
in many ways Mulder was like a kid.  Once he trusted, there was no
transition period.  Bam-- there he was, and he always knew she
would be there to catch him if he fell, and vice verse.  She didn't
always agree with him, but he accepted that, had in fact come to
count on it.
     At first, she had thought he was coming onto her.  It was a
thought she had to admit wasn't entirely an unpleasant one, but
now... now she realised that was just Mulder.  He didn't seem to
have the same rules regarding invading people's personal space that
were built into society's consciousness, taught to kids so they
would be prepared for adult life.  He was very like a child in that
respect, she decided.  He didn't hide anything.  Maybe that's why
so many people seemed uncomfortable with him, and put more distance
between them and him as a kind of defense.
     As if Mulder was threatening, Scully actually laughed.  He was
so open sometimes, she swore she could see into his head sometimes
though those big brown eyes.  Were they brown or were they hazel? 
She realised she had no idea.
     "Now you're waxing lyrical about you're partners eyes?  You're
losing your mind, Dana."  She laughed aloud to her empty living
room.  "The men in white coats are going to come and take you
away."
     There was a soft knock at her door, and she jumped.  "They
must have heard me," she muttered, slipping her shoes back on and
heading over to the door.
     "Hi," Mulder was looking a little sheepish.  "I just wanted
to... apologise, I was out of line."
     "Your personal life is just that, personal.  I shouldn've have
pushed."  She looked past him, for his car.  "Did you drive here?"
     "The bartender wouldn't give me my keys."  Mulder blushed, and
Scully bit back a smile.  "I walked."
     "You walked.  Here.  From the bar.  In November."  If there
was such a thing as death by eyebrow, Mulder would be laid out on
her front porch like roadkill.
     "I needed to clear my head."
     "Come on in, I'll call you a cab."
     Mulder let his eyes slide over the family photos, the little
touches of whatever home she had left to come here.  The blanket
she had been lying under wadded up and stuffed in the corner of the
couch, the cooling mug of tea leaving a ring of condensation on the
coffee table.
     "Cab's on its way, it'll be about fifteen minutes.  Do you
want to talk about it?"  She pressed an identical mug of tea into
his hands.
     "What?"
     "Whatever makes the unflappable Agent Mulder go on a bender."
     "What happened to not wanting to push?"
     "I changed my mind."
     "Ah, a woman's prerogative."  He tipped his head back in
silent laughter, and then scalded his tongue with the tea.
     "It's hot," she warned.
     "Thank you, I noticed."  He was beginning to wonder if his
tastebuds would ever be the same again.  "I saw her."
     "I know you believe you did."
     "No-- yesterday.  In my head.  I saw what she would be today
if she hadn't disappeared.  Isn't that nuts?  I had this little
fantasy of getting a phone call and it's Sam asking me why I'm not
married, telling me mom was on her case again and she just wanted
to live her own life.  God, Scully it was so real."  He rubbed at
his eyes as if he could wipe away the memory.  "So what's the
verdict, doc?  Am I crazy?"
     "No, Mulder.  You're not crazy.  You've had a really hard
year, it's no wonder you're thinking about her more often. 
Sometimes, when I pick up the phone, I swear I expect to hear my
Dad.  I can hear entire conversations in my head, what he would say
about this or that thing in my life, what I would say and on and
on."
     "Funny how we handle grief, huh."
     Scully squeezed his hand, but he got up and started pacing. 
She watched him, wishing she knew what to say, but nothing would
come to mind, nothing that would help.
     "She would have been twenty nine now.  May be, I don't know. 
For all I know she could be out there somewhere, a Jane Doe or even
a mom somewhere.  I just don't know.  I don't know any more."
     "I listened to your regression tapes, you know."  He stopped,
but didn't turn to face her.  "I read the file."
     "That was my first experience with the FBI.  They came to the
house, two agents in cheap suits with bored expressions."  Mulder
chuckled.  "I didn't like them.  I guess they didn't like me much,
either.  I used to stare at them, trying to figure out if they
liked their jobs, or if my family was just another statistic.  I
wonder if people stare at me that way, ever.  Do I have the same
blank look in my eye, do I treat people as just another case,
another day at the office."
     "You know you don't."
     "Maybe."
     "Fox--"  She started, but his laughter cut her off.
     "How about if I promise never to call you Dana again, you
promise to never call me Fox?"
     She got up, walking across the room to touch his shoulder.
     "I don't mind.  You're my partner, and my friend--"
     "I hate my name."
     "That is such bullshit!  The only reason you never want to be
called that is because it was the last thing you ever heard your
sister say!"
     Mulder stared at her as if she had taken out her weapon and
shot him.  She was so exasperated she didn't even care that he
looked like a deer caught in headlights.
     "Anyone with a crackerjack box prize psych degree could read
you like a book. Ever since the incident with Samuel Hartley,
you've been distracted, moody, and you get those damned puppy dog
eyes all the time."
     He lost the Bambi look, and raised an eyebrow at her
sardonically.  He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her
head.
     "You can't change what happened twenty years ago, you can't
make it up to your family, yourself, or your sister.  Everyone has
their demons, Mulder, regrets and what ifs and maybe I should
haves.  You just have to learn how not to let yours ride you.  I
know you want the truth.  Are you sure you know what the truth is,
Mulder?  Are you sure?"
     The pain in his eyes slowed her down, a little.  She sighed,
wondering what had changed, what had made her feel responsible for
him all of a sudden, and what had made her angry.  "I'm sorry."
     "Don't be, I'm not so sure I know what the truth is any more. 
Maybe it's just Spooky Mulder off in his own little world again,
dragging you with me half the time."
     "Stop it, Mulder."  The anger was back, and it seemed to shock
him out of his self pity.  "Do you think I care if the entire
damned bureau goes back and forth between pity and amusement at my
being 'sentenced to be basement with Good Old Spooky'?  I am so
sick and tired of everyone telling me you'll just drag me down,
when I know the entire reason Skinner assigned me to you in the
first place was to spy on you for the men upstairs.  And when it
backfired royally, I have had everyone from my father's cronies to
my fellow agents trying to talk me into staying as far away from
you and the whole x-files project as possible.
     "I don't care because you are the best agent I've ever worked
with, and I'm tired of seeing you get shafted, and *seeing you put
up with it*."
     "What will fighting do, Scully?  Get the X-files closed down
once and for all, and watch them bury us so far down the basement
will seem like heaven?  What the hell am I supposed to do, destroy
years of work over my own stupid stubbornness?"  Now here was a
role reversal, Scully couldn't decided if she wanted to laugh or
cry.  Her partner was a regular chinese puzzle box sometimes.
     "I can't believe I'm hearing this."
     "This isn't the sixth grade, a little name calling will not
bring my ego crashing down around me.  It doesn't hurt as much as
it used to."
     "Why is that?"
     "Because I have you." There, he'd said it.  "I don't care why
they assigned you to the x-files.  I care about the results.  I
could have Spooky Mulder engraved on my tombstone, and I wouldn't
give a damn as long as they continue to let us work together. 
Because sometimes I think you're all I have left.
     "Ever since a certain night two years ago in the very
plausible state of Oregon, I have trusted you.  I don't think you
know how very rare it is, my trust.  I don't think I could give it
to another of Skinner's goons."
     "Was this before or after you saw me in my underwear?"  She
cracked a smile, and was relieved to see an answering smile on his
face.  A real Mulder smile that washed just a little bit of the
pain away.
     "Yeah, well....
     Whatever he was going to say next, they forgot it as the cab
pulled up and beeped its horn.  As one they looked towards her
door.  She walked him to the door.
     "Will I see you at work tomorrow, or should I cover for you? 
Something tells me you're going to have one hell of a hangover."
     "Scully..."  he stood in the doorframe, his brows knit as if
he was thinking very hard.  She opened her mouth to ask, when he
stepped forward, almost eclipsing her.
     He kissed her with all the pent up emotion perhaps of two
decades.  It wasn't love, and it wasn't lust.
     It was need.
     "Mulder,"  Scully forced herself to back away, for both their
sakes. "Go home."  Embarrassed by her lack of breath, she repeated
it until he looked at her with clear eyes.  She didn't want to be
needed.  She thought he knew that.
     "Root beer again, huh?"  His smile was a shadow of what she
knew, but it was better than the demon that drove him.  Perhaps,
when the demon had gone for good, she'd be able to offer him a
glass of ice tea.
     Perhaps.

okay, should I stick to editing?  Or is it readable?
LJC
-- 
*    [email-masked] * Lady Johanna Constantine * or just plain Tara    *
*                  "I don't believe in vampires."                          *
*         "Well, too bad.  'Cause they believe in YOU."                    *
* Disclaimer: I dare somebody at unm to read what I've read.  I dare em :P *