Title: Cleaning My Room 
Author: Rhiannon R

Dislaimer: I don't own Mulder or Scully, but I do own Samantha (*not*
Mulder's sister! The character's name just happens to be Samantha
also...).

Spoilers: Requiem

Classification: V - Vignette

Summary: Scully's daughter reflects on what her mother as been
through.

Rating: G

Dedicated to: luna_goddess and Shadow Dancer, who are more obsessed
than I am (/wink)

Notes: I got the inspiration for this story while cleaning my room,
as you'll be able to tell. I loved "Requiem", and this is just what
would happen if Scully never found Mulder. Which, now that I think
about it, would be very sad. But it goes good for my story. Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


"Samantha Katherine, are you cleaning your room?" My mother asked
from the hall.

"Ye-es!" I answered, adding more annoyance to my voice than I'd
intended. Mom walked to the doorway and gave me a Look.

"Don't take that tone with me, Young Lady."

"Sorry, mom."

She lingered a bit longer, hesitant to enter my room. I put away a
few notebooks and CDs before I turned to face her again. She was
looking for an excuse to say something, and I was all ears.

"How was school?" Mom inquired finally.

"Boring, as usual."

"Any boys I should know about?"

"Mom!" I laughed, even though I was embarrassed. She smiled, titling
her head slightly.

"You sound just like your..." Within a second she stopped herself and
the smile faded. "Never mind. Finish cleaning your room."

My laughing, too, subsided. Mom walked back down the hall. I heard
the TV turn on; a soft crying came from the living room not a minute
later.

I don't know much about my father. Mom won't tell me. I know she was
once the famous Agent Dana Scully of the FBI, and he was Agent Fox
Mulder. I know I was named after my aunt; his sister, Samantha, who
was "taken". And, so was my father. Mom spent years searching for
him, but gave up when she realized she wasn't spending any time with
me...and that he couldn't be found. I'm all she has left of him now.

But mom won't tell me anything else. She misses him too much, and the
memories always make her cry. You'd figure, I'm sixteen, I can take
it...she just won't open up to me.

And as much as I want to go in the living room, sit beside her on the
couch, and hug her, I know that's not the best idea. Because,
according to the picture mom gave me when I was twelve, I look like
my father, too.

So all I can do is finish cleaning my room. Just like mom told me to.

 The End



What did you think? It's my first published fic...be kind... If you
wanna send me comments, feel free to do so:
greengoddesslita@yahoo.com

===== Mulder: "You know, I think I'm beginning to see the problem
here. You say that most people make the wrong wishes, right?" Jenn:
"Without fail. It's like giving a chimpanzee a revolver."