SHADOWS AND COOLNESS by Blueswirl cleojones3@yahoo.com 7/3/03 Archive: Yes, but drop me a line first. Spoilers: "The Unnatural" Keywords: E-Muse/Scullyfic Writer's Block Epigraph Challenge Watch out -- Disclaimer ahead: the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Prods. and Fox Inc. I'm just borrowing and mean no harm. * * * "Is there then any terrestrial paradise where, amidst the whispering of the olive-leaves, people can be with whom they like and have what they like and take their ease in shadows and coolness?" -- Ford Madox Ford, "The Good Soldier" * * * With all things, there is a beginning and an end. It begins, perhaps, with a phone call, a cryptic message left on an answering machine. It begins with a bat, with a bucket of balls, with hesitant smiles giving way to peals of laughter under a clear, starlit sky. When the basket is empty, when the makeshift pitcher has gone, when the lights of the cages flicker and go dark, this, then, is where it ends. The starry dark is comforting and distancing at the same time. She is glad that he cannot see the flush of her cheeks. He misses the radiant glow of her smile. The teasing banter and childish giggles have evaporated, leaving in their wake an awkward silence, a clumsy stillness that feels, for them, unnatural. His arms, which so recently spanned her waist, dangle awkwardly at his side. He clenches the bat because it gives him something to hold onto, though his hands still feel empty. She fusses with her jacket, smoothing it down over her hips, fingers pressing as though to erase imaginary wrinkles, but not the memory of his touch. He sighs, then draws in the night air, longing for the smell of her hair, its sweet softness against his chin. She shivers in the warm night, missing the heat of his chest against her back, the strength of his hands surrounding hers. Together, they stand in silence, two sets of eyes scanning the ground as though they could find answers there, something to explain why it felt so good in this last hour to forget themselves, to put down the burdens that they always carry, if only for a moment. They stand like errant schoolchildren, sneaking glances at one another, and still they say nothing. For what they share, there are no words. Finally, he speaks, his mouth creaking open, letting rusty words escape. "We should go," he says, in a voice not quite his own, his foot tracing a lazy circle in the dust. "We should go before they lock us in." "Right," she says. "We don't want that." And it is then that his gaze flashes up to meet hers, and although she wears an _expression that is carefully neutral, he sees something warm flickering in her eyes that ignites something deep inside him, a match hitting charcoal, and he smiles. "May I walk you to your car, Agent Scully?" He offers his hand with a flourish, playfully gallant now that the hollow silence has once again been filled with the essence of their partnership, and the promise of something more, dancing just out of reach. "Absolutely, Agent Mulder," she says, and takes his arm. They walk across the park, past all the darkened cages, making their way through shadows and coolness. The only sound is their footsteps on the path, strides strangely yet perfectly matched, moving forward together. All too soon they are in the parking lot, finding her car parallel to his, three spaces over. He walks her to it, and then waits as she pulls her keys from the pocket of her jacket and unlocks the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," she says, the words spinning across the space between them, landing softly in his ears like a caress. "And thanks for the lesson." "Anytime," he says, and she almost smiles, then bits her bottom lip and shakes her head, just a little. "Goodnight," she says, and then she's in her car, and the door is closed, and the engine is on. He crosses to his car, moving through the beams of her headlights, and it's not until he's sitting inside, flipping on the radio, that he realizes she's waiting on him. He tosses her a wave through the windshield and then puts his car in gear. Window down, he hears the tires screech against the gravel as he spins the car towards the exit. She follows him all the way through the outer gate. There, he turns left, towards Arlington. He glances in the rearview mirror and sees her taillights glowing red as she heads right, towards Georgetown. The road lies dark ahead, and he's tempted for a moment to flip on his brights, but the sky is full of stars and his heart is full of joy, and so he simply drives. THE END For the divine Ms. L, my literal-minded friend - clearly, you've convinced me ; and for Shari - more than a day late, but hopefully less than a dollar short. Big hugs to Lisa for kick-ass beta and much-needed confidence-building. This is the first new thing I've posted since Clinton was in office, so, um, yeah, feedback would be simply lovely. :)