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Other stories by Keleka
From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Tue, 6 Jun 2000 12:41:54 -0500
Subject: Heart Turned Inward by Keleka (1/1) (Post-Requiem) by Keleka
Source: direct
Reply To: keleka3@yahoo.com
From: Keleka
Heart Turned Inwards (1/1)
By Keleka
Email: keleka3@yahoo.com
Distribution: Gossamer, Spookys, Xemplary,
etc.
Rating: G
Spoiler Warning: Requiem
Content Statement: msr
Classification: VR
Keywords: TLG, MSR
Summary: The Lone Gunmen deliver an unexpected
Christmas present to Scully. Have yourself an early
little Christmas.
Archive: Sure! Please tell me where so I can
visit.
Disclaimer: Get real! If I owned this cash
cow, do you really think I'd be living in
Mississippi?
Feedback: It's certainly welcome in my
house!
Author's Note: Huge steaming piles of thanks
Shoshana, Fabulous Monster, and TBishop,
who graciously beta read my stuff, usually
without too much complaining and always with
great insight.
All my fanfic (X-Files, Hawaii Five-0, and Star
Trek)
can be found at http://www.geocities.com/keleka3
Heart Turned Inward
by Keleka
"Frohike, I don't think this is a good idea."
Jesus. Is he ever going to give it a rest? I pull the
van off the highway onto the secondary road and
stop for a red light. We skipped breakfast and I'm
tempted to pull into the McDonald's to my left and
get some coffee. It's a damn good thing Byers isn't
driving or we'd not have made it this far.
I turn to look at Byers who is sitting in the back of
the van at the communications console. "Dude, it's
Christmas day," I snap back at him. "This is when
he'd want us to do it."
"I'm not so sure he'd want us to do this at all," Byers
says, almost whining.
"Look, Byers, we already had this argument and you
lost, two to one; so shut the hell up and get in the
Christmas spirit already." Sheesh. I love these
guys but, frankly, sometimes they can be so damned
annoying. A couple years in the Marine Corps when
they were young would have done them both a lot of
good. It certainly made a man out of me.
Byers continues to sulk in the back. I glance over at
Langly, whose nose is buried in the map of
metropolitan Baltimore. He hasn't tied his hair back
in a ponytail this morning and it's cascading around
his face. If Langly were a woman, he'd almost be
attractive.
"Where to now, Langly?" I ask.
"Turn left at the next red light," he says without
looking up, "then take the third right onto
Bridgeport Street."
When I turn off, we leave the commercial area and
find ourselves in a pleasant residential neighborhood
of brick and stucco homes with family-sized yards
with swing sets and Japanese maple trees.
Sometimes, when I drive through a neighborhood
like this, I regret having chosen the path I have for
my life.
"There," Langly says, pointing to a modest white
stucco house with blue shutters and a large front
yard. There is an empty parking spot on the other
side of the street so I go to the next intersection,
make an illegal U-turn, and swing back to park.
Leaving the van, I'm struck by how peaceful it is
here. In the distance I can just barely hear 'Jingle
Bells' playing. I wish we had some snow on the
ground to go along with it. As we cross the street,
someone coming out of the house next door waves
to us. "Merry Christmas," he calls out cheerfully.
"Merry Christmas," we all call back.
"Man, this place is giving me the creeps," Langly
mutters under his breath.
"This is how normal people live, Langly," I say,
laughing.
"Yeah, well, give me abnormal anytime," he says.
"It's more real."
We're at the door now, me in front with Byers and
Langly behind me. I've always been the pit bull
among us, the one who's out front leading the way.
Not that they aren't courageous in their own way;
it's just that their courage is more subtle than mine.
It's what makes us such a good team.
The door is a pretty blue, matching the shutters, and
there's a large brass knocker. I reach for it and give
it three good raps. After a moment the door pulls
open and I find myself looking squarely into
someone's chest.
Slowly, I raise my eyes and see a very tall man with
short strawberry blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
Jesus. He's built like an ox. If this is who I think it
is, it's no wonder Mulder avoids this guy like the
plague. He's smiling, no doubt filled with Christmas
spirit, though his smile fades quickly as he gets a
look at us.
"You must be Bill," I say.
"I am. Do I know you?"
"No. We're here to see Dana Scully."
His eyes immediately become clouded by a veil of
suspicion. He's in full protective mode now.
"Who should I say is calling?" he says, apparently
deciding to be the polite professional until he
determines for sure whether he needs to kick my ass
to kingdom come.
I know if I tell him we're 'The Gunmen' he'll never
let us in. "Tell her it's the Three Stooges."
That sets him back a bit. He looks at me oddly for a
moment. "Wait here," he says finally, pushing the
door partly closed.
I can hear muffled voices in the distance and for the
first time since we left our lair I actually harbor
doubts about whether Scully will agree to see us.
Safe and sane, surrounded by her family, she might
not want to enter back into our world of gloom and
paranoia. She might not want to be reminded of
everything ... and everyone ... she's lost, and every
pain she's suffered.
The Hulk, as I now think of her brother, returns to
the door and does not look too happy. I think he
was looking forward to kicking my ass. "You can
come in," he says. "But if you upset her in any way,
...." he adds in a menacing voice and then lets the
implied threat hang ominously.
"Chill out, Bill. We aren't here to upset her."
The foyer is bedecked with wreathes and candles.
When we enter the living room, my eyes are
immediately drawn to the Christmas tree in the
corner. It is tall and full, sparkling with tasteful
decorations. Then I spot the flying saucer ornament
I gave Scully for Christmas last year and smile. This
tree is obviously decorated with love.
"Frohike? Byers? Langly?"
Her voice draws me out of my tree hypnosis. I turn
in its direction and see her at last. She's sitting in a
large, overstuffed easy chair by the front window.
Several boxes are on the floor at her feet and
discarded wrapping paper is strewn about. A small
pile of baby clothes is perched on her lap.
For a moment I am too stunned to answer her. God,
Dana Scully is gorgeous, even pregnant. Especially
pregnant! There is a glow about her that I've seen
matched only when she's relaxed and with Mulder.
Watching the changes to her body since Mulder
disappeared has been incredible. She's due any day
now. I haven't seen her since she began her
maternity leave a month ago and came to stay with
her mother till the baby is born. In just that one
month the change has been unbelievable. I wish
Mulder could be here to see this.
I approach her cautiously, ever mindful of her
brother hovering protectively by her side. One
wrong move and I could be toast. I lean down and
kiss her chastely on the cheek.
"You look incredible, Scully,"
She laughs and lays her hand on her belly. "I look
like a cow!"
Langly gives his greeting from across the room.
He's never been one for kisses and tender
endearments. Byers approaches and kisses her
cheek. "We've missed you, Scully," he says, a
wistful look in his eye.
She smiles at him and I can see some tears beginning
to glisten in her eyes. Damn hormones probably
have her crying all the time now. She composes
herself and then introduces us to her family. Mrs.
Scully seems to have heard of us, but Bill and his
wife haven't. He scowls at us when Dana refers to
us as 'The Lone Gunmen,' and she hastily explains
what that means. He softens a bit, apparently
satisfied that we aren't about to pull out weapons
and start blasting.
What brings you guys here?" Scully asks when the
introductions are finished. "Not that I'm not thrilled
to see you."
Suddenly I'm struck with a memory of the time I
played one of the Three Wise Men in a school
nativity play when I was a kid. I don't know how
wise we are, but in some way, we're playing that role
today. We're even bearing a gift.
"We brought you a Christmas present," I say, my
throat beginning to constrict a little. I'm
remembering Bill's threat if we upset her, and
frankly, I'm not entirely sure how she's going to take
this.
She smiles broadly. "You brought me a present?
But I thought we agreed--"
"It's from Mulder."
Her face goes ashen. Bill takes a step toward me
and I'm pretty sure the ass-whooping is about to
commence. He stops when Scully places her hand
on his elbow.
Scully's face is a picture of agony. If it weren't us, if
it were anyone else, she would think this was some
sort of cruel joke. But it IS us and she knows we
would never do anything to hurt her. She takes a
moment to compose herself before speaking.
"Maybe you'd better explain," she says softly.
I nod. Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.
"About a week before he ... before he went to
Oregon," I begin, choosing my words as carefully as
I can, "Mulder told us he wanted to get you ...
something. Byers went with him to pick it out. He
asked us to keep it until he was ready to give it to
you. We don't know exactly what he was waiting
for, but ... but, we think that under the
circumstances, he would want you to have it now.
He would want us to give it to you."
That's Byers's cue and he steps forward, taking a
small package from his jacket pocket. We wrapped
it this morning in white and silver Christmas paper
and topped it with a small blue bow to match
Scully's eyes. We usually wrap gifts in old
newspaper cartoons, if we wrap them at all, but we
took our time with this special package, wanting it
to look just right for her.
Scully takes the package from Byers and looks at it
sadly. Some tears begin to escape and slide their
lonely paths down her cheeks. Valiantly she tries to
smile, but her heart just doesn't seem in it. Her eyes
give away her sadness.
Her mother moves to sit on the arm of Scully's chair,
sliding her hand down Scully's back reassuringly.
"Open it, Dana," she says softly.
Scully nods and slowly begins to remove the paper.
When she's finished she holds a small black jewelry
box. Her hands tremble slightly.
"Go ahead, Dana," Bill says, bending down on one
knee beside her chair. How about that? The Hulk
can be tender when he needs to be.
She opens the box and when she sees what is inside
her eyes widen and then are filled with joy. Tears
stream down her face. I've never seen her look
more beautiful.
"It's a claddagh!" Mrs. Scully exclaims, her smile
almost as joyous as her daughter's. Even Bill looks
happy. Thank God.
Mrs. Scully looks at us and our bewilderment
obviously shows. "Do you all know the story of the
claddagh?" she asks us. We all shake our heads.
"Why don't you tell them, Dana?" she says softly.
Scully wipes the tears from her cheeks, and looks at
us. I've known Dana Scully for over seven years
now. At first she merely tolerated us and our antics
because we were friends of Mulder's; later she came
to respect us even though she seldom agreed with
out beliefs; eventually she came to trust us and rely
on us, and even to believe us sometimes. Today,
however, is the first time I believe she has ever
looked at us with unconditional affection. I feel
blessed, as though I've been made an unofficial
member of the Scully family.
"Irish legend has it that a man from the village of
Claddagh was captured by pirates and sold into
slavery to a rich Turkish goldsmith," she begins. "In
time he became a master goldsmith himself and
when he earned his freedom, he returned to his
village and created the legendary Claddagh ring."
She takes the ring from the box and holds it so that
we can see. "The two hands clutching a heart,
topped with a crown, epitomizes the expression of
lasting love and eternal friendship. The heart
symbolizes love, the hands friendship, and the crown
loyalty and fidelity."
Her voice falters now. I'm sure she's thinking of
Mulder and commitments they made to each other in
the months before his abduction. I can't begin to
comprehend how painful it must be for her, knowing
that she might never see Mulder gain; or how joyful
she must be at having his baby; or how she can
juxtapose those two emotions. And again, I wonder
if we have done the right thing. To stir these
emotions in her, with her due date so close....
Mrs. Scully interrupts my thoughts, continuing the
story. "The legend also says that if you wear a
claddagh on your right hand with the heart facing
outwards, the world will know your heart has not
yet been won. Wear it on the right hand with the
heart facing inwards and it shows that you have
friendship and love under consideration. But worn
on your left hand with the heart turned inwards, the
claddagh means that two loves have joined forever."
As I watch Scully slip the ring on her left hand, heart
turned inwards, I know that we have done the right
thing.
*end*
The Gossamer Project Author - Title
- Date - Spoilers -
Crossovers - X-Files - Adventures
- Stories - Vignettes
Other stories by Keleka
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