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Title: Closer Than the Stars This is in response to Tori's challenge. I've always thought one of the hardest tasks facing us fan-fiction writers is to go beyond what we see each week on TV. In other words, to delve into the mind and soul of our heroes, to give them thoughts and emotions to go with the actions we see. This challenge seemed to fit perfectly in with my thinking, so here is my take on the subject. Summary: Having nothing better to do, Mulder and Scully open up to each other about their childhoods
For Fox Mulder, raised on an island, the West had always been fascinating. The large, open spaces, the endless distances between two points-- it was the antithesis of Martha's Vineyard. He loved it all, and always enjoyed when a case took them out west. Always. Except that is, when he was stranded along a deserted highway in Nevada, with a cranky red-head and a car that had run out of gas. "Mulder, I told you we were low on gas. Why didn't you stop?" He shrugged. Of course he'd known Scully was right, but in typical male fashion had resisted her pleas to stop. Now they were stuck, at 3:00 in the morning, no less, waiting for some trucker to come along and rescue them. Scully stamped a foot in exasperation. "We'll never make it to Las Vegas now," she said angrily. "You could always walk," Mulder offered lazily. Scully glared at him, and Mulder relented. "Look, Scully. We're probably going to be here for a while. Why don't we get in the car? It's cold out, and we'll be warmer inside." She acquiesced, and they got inside the car, only to sit in an uncomfortable silence. Scully shifted her weight on the passenger seat. "Now what?" Mulder shrugged. "I guess we wait." Scully peered out the window, staring up at the sky. A small smile curved her lips and Mulder watched her with curiosity. "What are you looking at?" he asked. "The stars," she answered. "There's so many of them, so many more than we can see back at home." Mulder nodded, acknowledging the truth of her words. Out here there were no city lights to obscure the view of the sky, and it was truly breathtaking. "When I was little," Scully continued, "my dad used to wake me up in the middle of the night sometimes. He'd come get me, wrap me up in a blanket, and we'd go outside and watch the stars. In the summers we'd watch the meteor showers, and I would wish on each shooting star I saw. Sometimes we'd be out there for hours, just gazing up at the sky." Her tone was wistful, and Mulder smiled, thinking of a little star-gazing Scully. "Sounds wonderful," he said, a little sadly, and she looked at him. "What about you, Mulder? When did you become interested in space?" He looked out the window again, and shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I was always fascinated by the stars, and what was up there. After Samantha was gone, I used to sit outside at night, staring up at the sky and try to imagine where she was. I was always doing that, but somehow it seemed easier to picture her when I was under the stars. Like they were my imagination for me." Mulder glanced over at Scully to see her staring at him, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Scully," he began. She shook her head quickly. "No, no, I was just remembering something. You said you felt like the stars were your imagination. I always felt they were my father's. He knew so much about space. He would tell me stories for hours while we sat outside." She seemed introspective, and Mulder had never heard her talk much about her father. He was afraid to push, to break the mood, but he was curious. "Tell me about your father. What was he like?" Scully smiled, but her eyes were distant, seeing her childhood. "Do you know what I remember most? When he would come home, after being overseas. My mother would get her hair done, and dress up, and we would all rush to clean the house, to make sure everything looked just right for him. And he would come home, and Mel, and my brothers and I, we'd jump all over him, and my mother would just stand back, waiting. My father would hug us all, then he would straighten up, see my mother, and give her the most wonderful smile in the world." She looked over at Mulder. "Those were always the best times. When my father would come home. But they were always bad times for me, because later that night, I would become very jealous. I used to wish I was an only child sometimes, so my father wouldn't have to spend time with Mel, or my brothers. I wanted him to spend his time with *me*, and I would cry at night because I had to share him." Scully laughed at herself. "Pretty silly, huh?" "I don't think it's silly at all," Mulder said. "What about you?" Scully asked. "Did you ever wish--" then abruptly broke off as she realized what she'd been about to say. Unfortunately, Mulder *had* been a virtual only child, and look what it had done to him. "No, but I used to dream of being adopted," he said slowly. Scully's eyes widened slightly, and Mulder looked down at his hands in his lap. "I--ah, after Sam was gone, I would sometimes think that if something happened to my parents, to both of them, then I would end up in an orphanage. I used to imagine it all, the rows of beds, the lines of boys, the smells of camphor and disinfectant. And I would think that one day, a family would come to the orphanage, looking to adopt a boy. They would have already adopted a girl, and now they wanted a boy. I would see this family, walking down the aisle, looking at all the boys--this family that had two loving parents, and a dark-haired girl. And they would stop in front of me, and say 'Him, we want him.' They would adopt me, and my sister and I would be raised by two parents who knew how to love their children." Scully was aghast. That was quite possibly the worst story she had ever heard. Compassion welled within her for Mulder, and his shattered childhood. He simply did not have the loving, warm memories she did, and there was no way to make it any better. She reached out and took his hand in hers. He looked up at her, his expression unreadable. "I'm glad you told me that," she said softly. "Why?" Mulder asked. He had never before told anyone his dark childhood fantasy, and had not known how Scully would react. "Because," she said, "I feel whenever we talk to each other like this, we grow a little closer. And with all that we face out there, whether liver-eating mutants or government conspiracies, we need to stay close, Mulder." He nodded, for she was right. Indeed, he was feeling very close to her right now, and suddenly he wanted to show her. He leaned closer to her, his eyes locked on hers, and saw the acceptance there. They were close, so close, when the headlights of an oncoming truck suddenly lit up the car and the moment was lost. With a start, Mulder and Scully jerked apart, their eyes wide, staring at each other. Then Mulder was grinning at her. "Better get out, Scully, and show some leg, or this guy might not stop." He got out of the car just in time to avoid a smack. END Well, you didn't think I could let them get away with it, did you?
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