Sign Language
by Emma Brightman
emmabrightman1013@yahoo.com

Disclaimer:  Not mine
Category:  V, MSR
Rating:  PG
Spoilers:  Takes place after "all things" but mentions the 
events of "Per Manum"

Written for the Beat the Heat Secret Santa Fic Challenge on 
E-muse.  More notes at the end.

Thanks to C. for speedy, helpful beta, and to A. for her 
kind reception of this little bit of fluff.  

- - -

Outside, it was raining, a sudden April shower soaking 
unprepared pedestrians as they scurried and slid along the 
sidewalk outside the restaurant window, newspapers and 
briefcases held ineffectually above their heads.

Mulder coughed, then winced at the scratchy pain it caused 
his throat.  He hoped the rain would last long enough to 
lessen the springtime pollen count, at least for a while.  
He wanted nothing more than to continue the conversation 
that had ended when Scully fell asleep on his couch the 
night before.  Continue it with words, that is.

They'd communicated quite well without them later that 
evening, but there were so many things he wanted to tell 
her, and hear from her in return.  Waking in an empty bed 
to find himself stuffed up and voiceless, sick from 
allergies, too much plane travel, and too little sleep was 
a disappointing way to start the day.  When he arrived at 
the office late, red-nosed and sneezing, Scully had taken 
pity on him and offered to take him out for an early lunch.  
He had gratefully accepted.  Now they found themselves 
nearly alone in their quiet corner of the restaurant.

Scully watched him eat a spoonful of the chicken noodle 
soup she'd all but prescribed for him, then turned to gaze 
out the window.  She ran her index finger along the glass, 
following the path of a particularly fat and lazy raindrop 
as it meandered down the pane and out of sight.

"I think this was a mistake, Mulder," she murmured, eyes 
still trained outside.

Mulder's head snapped up at her words.  Without thinking, 
he crushed the unopened plastic packet in his hand, leaving 
nothing but pulverized Club crackers to add to his soup.

"A mistake?" he rasped.  Damn this laryngitis for putting 
him at such a disadvantage.  Of all the inopportune times 
to be unable to counter Scully's arguments, the morning 
after had to be the worst.  If she tried to tell him that 
the one thing in his life he was sure about was wrong, he'd 
shout his frustration to the heavens, no matter what damage 
it did to his tender vocal chords.

"Scully," he began, and she turned away from the window to 
look at him.  She glanced down at his hand, still clenched 
around the ill-fated crackers, and smiled apologetically.

"Shh, Mulder.  You shouldn't be talking."  She took the 
crushed crackers from him and gave him a fresh packet that 
came with her salad.  "I just meant going out to lunch.  If 
you get drenched, you'll just get sicker."

"Oh."  Mulder picked up his spoon and took another sip of 
his soup, trying to appear nonchalant and no doubt failing 
miserably.  "That would be bad, yeah."

"Very bad," she said, lowering her voice.  "I have plans 
for you, after all, and they'll work out a lot better if 
you're healthy."

Mulder nearly choked.  Scully watched, her expression 
veering between concern and amusement, as he coughed.  He 
took a sip of ice water, letting it slide down to 
momentarily soothe his aching throat.

"Actually, after the past few days I'm not even sure there 
are mistakes, exactly.  Just choices to be made and paths 
to follow."

She shrugged and gave him a chagrined smile, as if she 
couldn't quite believe the words coming out of her own 
mouth.

"No such things as mistakes, huh?" Mulder said, his voice, 
barely a whisper to begin with, fading with every word.  
"I'll have to remember that one the next time Skinner calls 
to ream us out."

He sneezed, eyes watering and raw throat protesting.  He 
sniffed and took another sip of water.

Scully raised an eyebrow.  "Well, maybe 'no mistakes' is 
the wrong way to put it, but you know what I mean.  You can 
only do the best you can in life.  Try to be open, to 
follow the signs you're given and do what's right."

Mulder shook his head slightly and opened his mouth to 
respond.  Nothing came out, not even the hoarse raspiness 
he'd just been inflicting on her.

Before she could say 'I told you so', Mulder took her hand 
in his, turned it over, and wrote on her palm with his 
index finger.

"T-E-L-L-M-E," he spelled.  Scully frowned for a moment, 
trying to play Helen Keller to his Anne Sullivan.  When 
realization dawned, she nodded and continued.

"There was a time -- no, there were several times over the 
years -- when I was certain that so many decisions in my 
life had been monumental errors.  Quitting medicine for the 
FBI.  Staying with the Bureau in spite of all the setbacks 
and frustrations, and all the things I lost along the way."

Mulder released her hand and sat back in his chair, biting 
his lip.  He'd asked her to tell him what she was thinking, 
but he hadn't counted on hearing that she'd spent years 
regretting her time with him.  Not today, anyway, not after 
what had happened last night.  It stung, but he couldn't 
blame her.  After all, he was the one who'd warned her 
years ago to get away from him, to go be a doctor, to have 
a life while there was still a chance. 

She took a sip of tea and sighed as if she'd read his 
thoughts.  "I didn't feel that way all the time, Mulder.  
Not even most of the time.  You have to know that.  But 
sometimes I'd worry that I'd ruined my chances.  For 
professional success, yes, but most of all for personal 
happiness.  For that 'normal' life I always thought I'd 
have some day."

Mulder nodded, trying to appear understanding instead of 
crushed.  It wasn't as if he hadn't known that she 
occasionally felt that way, but she'd never voiced it to 
him before, not like this.  A cryptic comment about a desk 
and a life going one step forward and two steps back.  A 
late night speech about getting out of the car.  A Saturday 
morning tussle over tofutti ice cream, and an unheeded 
tease about going outside to play.

Even when she'd asked him to help her conceive a child, 
she'd been typically tightlipped about her feelings, only 
letting him see how much that last chance meant to her for 
a few brief moments before stoically carrying on as before.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he had been 
selfish to keep her with him all these years, lonely and 
constantly in danger.  He wanted to spell out his feelings 
of guilt, but that would take him days.  Instead he lifted 
her hand to his lips and gently kissed her palm.

"No, Mulder" she said, drawing her hand away.  "No 
apologies.  That's what I'm trying -- badly, it seems -- to 
tell you.  That's what I wanted to explain last night.  I 
haven't ruined my chances for a life.  This IS my life.  
This, right now, this moment.  All the hours in that dank 
little basement, every terrifying thing we've ever seen or 
done, all the losses.  They've all led me here, to this."

Mulder looked at her skeptically.  How could her feelings 
have changed so much, so quickly, during just a few days 
without him?  When he'd left her to go to England, she'd 
been so frustrated.  With him, with the work, with 
everything.  The most insecure part of him had almost 
expected to find a resignation letter on his desk when he 
returned or, at the very least, something like the dried 
rose petal she'd left there years before in another of her 
inscrutable attempts at communication.

"Mulder, I sat next to Daniel and cried, and told him that 
I thought I might want the things I'd missed out on.  The 
things I should want at this time in my life.  A career 
that makes a difference, someone who cares about me..."

Mulder shook his head and picked up her hand again.  "L-O-
V-E-S-Y-O-U," he spelled out.

"Yes."  Scully glanced down at the table, nervously running 
her tongue over her lips and smoothing the white tablecloth 
with her fingers.  "Someone who loves me.  I finally 
realized that I do have those things.  Maybe not in the 
conventional, 'normal' sense, but I do have them."

She looked back up at last, meeting his gaze again.  "I 
realized that I was happy with my life, or at least that I 
could be, if I'd only let myself see what was right in 
front of me."

He kissed her hand again.  This time she let him.  So he 
kissed it again, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Anyway, that's what I wanted to tell you last night," she 
said, her cheeks flushing.  "Before we, well..."

Mulder smirked and began to spell on her palm one more 
time.  "F-"

"Mulder!" Scully exclaimed, laughing out loud in the goofy, 
endearing way he'd heard so rarely.

He gave her an innocent look.  "Fell asleep!" he mouthed, 
feigning astonishment at her dirty mind.
 
Scully laughed again, and for a moment Mulder was almost 
sorry he'd broken the spell of that quiet moment when she 
finally told him what was in her heart.  He couldn't stay 
sorry for long, though, not when she was smiling at him 
like that, with so much affection and happiness in her 
eyes.

"We really need to get you home to bed," she said, 
gesturing to the waiter to bring them the check.  "There've 
been plenty of times over the years when I thought things 
would be easier if you couldn't speak, Mulder, but I can 
see now that I was wrong."

Mulder shrugged, giving her a rueful smile.

"Bed, pajamas, orange juice, maybe a few episodes of 'Law & 
Order," she sighed happily.  "We can play hooky this 
afternoon for the first time in seven years."

Outside, the sun was breaking through the clouds, and the 
rain had slowed to barely a drizzle.  Passersby were 
walking more calmly now, slowing to look at the brightly 
colored peonies planted outside the restaurant window or to 
peer in at the lunchtime crowd.

Inside, Mulder smiled and listened as Scully talked about 
everything and nothing, and when they finally stood up to 
go home he just kept holding her hand.

end

- - -

Thanks to Bonetree for first line inspiration from The 
Writer's Block, for organizing the summer story swap, and 
for just being a fabulous person. :)

Thanks also to those who provided story elements back in 
June.  See, I finally used them!  Do you even remember 
providing them? <g>

* Mulder with laryngitis - Shannon
* A quiet afternoon lunch at a nice restaurant - Mara
* ...when it's raining outside - Blue
* Someone with an allergy attack - Sharyn
* Tap water - JET
* Crackers - Lilydale
* A mention of "Law & Order" - Sarah

Feedback would be lovely: emmabrightman1013@yahoo.com