Title: Resolution Summary: A brief glimpse into what might have been. Thanks: To Kim and Denise. "Here's to the bright New Year, and a fond farewell to the old; Scully's Apartment Dashing through the snow Scully kicked the entertainment center with the tip of her fuzzy socks and ignored the throbbing pain in her toes that followed. "No one's going to be dashing through this weather unless they want to end up with a broken leg," she muttered wryly, quickly lowering her voice. To her left, the windows filtered out none of the silvery grey light that caused her to squint. If it weren't for the fact that she had rubber tires on her car instead of large ice skate blades, she could go wherever she wanted, but there was no way she was venturing out in this ice storm. Moreover, she didn't really want to be any place but here. She sighed and brushed her hair back as she made her way to the kitchen. If she could detach herself enough, she could actually appreciate the glittery and slick tree branches outside her windows. The wan sunlight caught the freezing rain drops as they coated the various surfaces, painting the landscape with a treacherous beauty. There had actually been snow for Christmas; a decent covering that afforded them their first real snowman building expedition with William. He'd ended up wearing almost as much snow as Mulder, and the vote was still out on who had more fun. Scully had steered clear of the flying white stuff, but hovered close enough to snap some pictures with the Polaroid her mother had given them. Those pictures were now perched on the mantle. But that weather had been traded in for the not-so-improved and definitely indoor activities variety. At least for her and William. Mulder had mumbled something about needing to pick something up, and had escaped before she could ask any questions. The weight of the ice on the power lines had caused the lights to flicker several times already, but this time, Scully just rolled her eyes, and then plugged in the coffee maker. She'd set out candles in all the rooms, and had backed them up with flashlights. Mulder had made sure they had extra batteries in all rooms when the storm had begun. The bedrooms also had state of the art battery-powered heavy-duty lanterns. They were as ready as they'd ever be. As the coffee maker gurgled and sputtered, she went to gather a few of William's books and toys that lay scattered on the floor beneath the tree. They lent a colorful touch to her otherwise sparse decorations; a small spruce, its needles that deep, fresh green that made her long for a walk in the fresh-fallen snow in a quiet forest. At the very top of the tree, sat her favorite ornament a very tiny and very red Elmo; Will's contribution. The mantle held two old-fashioned red felt stockings, the white cottony border embroidered with their names. Next to them, a gift for Will from the Gunmen; a stocking that dwarfed Mulder's and Scully's by several feet. Scully had just finished stacking the bright, cardboard books on the coffee table when she heard him. "Scully, open the door!" No knocking, just his loud call out to her. She didn't bother to reply, opening the door instead. She had to cover her mouth to keep her laughter under control. Wet hair plastered to his head, droplets of water on the tip of his nose, and spiky wet eyelashes framing those hazel eyes. "Mulder, where were you?" Scully recovered quickly, although she couldn't stop smiling. Taking Mulder's arm, she turned him around slowly. "Are you enjoying yourself, Scully?" he groused, his teeth chattering. "Now I am." "Stop staring at my ass, and let me get out of these wet clothes." Mulder bent down to unlace his boots, unintentionally providing her an even better view, but Scully was pulled from her admiration by the youngest Mulder's after nap babbling and sing-songy musings. "The rest of the story will have to wait until I get our son," she told him as she headed to William's room. Shifting William's weight to her other hip, Scully remembered to grab his favorite bear from his crib at the same time he reminded her; his pointing finger and repetitious 'Bah, Bah' making her smile. She had just straightened when Will startled, clutching her hair in one hand, and her shirt in his other. Scully turned to find the source of the interruption, feeling the droplets of water hit her face seconds before she realized it was a shirtless Mulder. Sometimes, the bigger child, he shook his fresh from the shower hair all over her and their child. Much to the youngest Scully-Mulder's enjoyment and glee. Little hands flapping at his own face and then her smiling face, William did his best to wriggle free and reached for his father. "Mulder!" "Muh!" was little Sir Echo's response. Playing along, Mulder slicked his hand through his now damp hair, and shook it in front of their son. The giggling started all over again. "He's all yours," Scully quipped, handing William off to Mulder. "Are you going to tell me where you had to go in this awful weather?" She had to ask, even as she realized that trying to hold an adult conversation when he had their son could be next to impossible. William tried to climb Mulder, his legs pumping, his diaper-clad bottom pushing outward as his small hands gained purchase; one on his father's nose, the other in his wet hair. "Mulder," Scully mock-whined, shaking her head, as William attempted to take a bite out of Mulder's hair, pulling the larger head down to his open mouth. "Ouch!" Scully knew that William had most likely closed his hard gums around Mulder's nose or cheek. While his two top teeth had not totally broken through yet, his jaw strength was surprising. One of the reasons Scully had recently weaned him from breastfeeding. "I'd tell you, Scully, but our son seems to be in need of nourishment," he grunted. "Are you sure you've been feeding him enough?" She playfully punched him in the shoulder, and then went to get a towel to help dry them both off. She'd hear the story as soon as the father and son bonding moment was over. In the brief time it had taken her to walk into the bathroom and return with the towel, William's attention had been diverted. The smile and babbling had continued, however. They really were lucky; he was an easy-going baby with a pretty inquisitive and contented disposition. Mulder had moved them over to the fish tank and squatted down to put their son at eye-level with the mollies and gold fish. Scully crouched down alongside them, toweling off first son, then father. She left the towel draped over Mulder's shoulders as she could see the gooseflesh across his back and chest. "No, we can't take them out and play with them; they need to swim around, buddy," Mulder patiently explained to a questing infant. "Let me take him, Mulder, so you can finish getting dressed," Scully told him, opening her arms to William. "Eee, eee," was William's excited response, turning away from Scully and then facing the tank once again, rocking his body against Mulder's arm to move as close as possible. "Go see Mommy, William; we can talk to the fish some more, later." Mulder handed a squirming child to Scully and disappeared into their bedroom. William looked for all the world like a pint-sized king of his kingdom ensconced in his portable playpen. The yellow and sage pastel animal quilt was scrunched between his back and the mesh side of the play space, and an assortment of books and blocks was scattered to both sides of him. He watched Scully; occasionally holding a block in her direction, and then trying to chew on it. He was quite happy playing on his own with her and/or his father in the same room. "What've you got there, Will?" Scully asked him, leaning over the railing. "Can I see it?" She extended her hand to take the block; only to have it banged against her palm. Block held close to his chest, William's thumb went into his mouth, and he batted his large hazel eyes at her. Scully knew he'd probably be ready for another nap soon. Wondering what was taking Mulder so long, she sat back onto the couch and pulled the afghan around her. Any hopes of seeing the sun had rapidly vanished as the streetlamps came on early. As long as their power held out, she supposed she could appreciate the beauty of the ice-coated telephone and electric wires and tree branches. As she turned to lower the setting on the floor lamp, Mulder joined them, his hands behind his back, and a lop-sided grin on his face. There were times like this that Scully found herself feeling wrapped in a dream; one she hoped would never end. So many starts and stops they'd had over the years. So many false starts and hard stops. Abductions, faked deaths -- a real death -- past relationships, every manner and form of otherworldly creature and circumstance, and somehow they'd still managed to be together. She wasn't sure she'd ever believed in love at first sight or soul mates, and she knew for certain it had never been the former. But if knowing each other better than they sometimes knew themselves; carrying on wordless conversations in perfect synch; completing each other defined the term, then she and Mulder were the closest thing to being soul-mates that she'd ever imagined. Mulder had stopped behind the playpen and, although she faced the window, she could see him out of the corner of her eye. One hand had tried to move sneakily to his pocket, and she let him think he'd gotten away with it. So comfortable. Now. It wasn't so very long ago that her world had been a roller coaster with the very steepest ups and downs. Mulder's abduction...her pregnancy...Mulder's death and rebirth...the birth of their son...Mulder leaving them. Despite herself, Scully's brows drew inward and down; the memory still painful. She drew the afghan tighter, only peripherally aware of the fact that Mulder had taken William from the playpen. One large hand cradling his bottom and chubby legs, his arm wrapped around his son's middle, Mulder had William facing away from him as they headed for the window. She sometimes found it hard to imagine him as a father. This man who had traveled such a long and winding road in his life; who described his own family as the poster family for dysfunctional; seemed to take each day as it came. Scully watched them in profile. Barefoot, well-worn jeans riding low on his slim hips, and his Quantico sweatshirt bagged out at the hem, Mulder swayed back and forth, his face dipping low to share a bit of winter wisdom with his son. William's full head of reddish hair with the small tufts spiking after Mulder had ruffled it, he kicked excitedly, one blue sock hanging half off his foot. They'd both thought having Mulder leave might be their best option, but Scully keenly remembered her misgivings. It was all too much, too soon after the birth; hormones enhancing her emotions that were still much to close to the surface. Mulder had hesitated as well, but somehow, they'd each brushed it off, not saying the words the other needed to hear. "What's mommy thinking about so seriously?" Scully startled, realizing she was the focus of their attention. "Hm? Oh, nothing much; just admiring the two men in my life," she murmured, smiling. Mulder continued his tour of the apartment with his son; a ritual that always had different destinations and new commentary. Scully wondered what William's first words might be after listening to his father's explanations. She'd occasionally hear 'alien' or 'monster', but she had no doubt it was for her benefit; a test of sorts. Especially since the word was always spoken louder than the rest. Snuggling back against the pillows, Scully thought about that first night without Mulder. While it certainly wasn't the only time she'd ever been without him, they were a family now, and that fact alone brought tears to her eyes as soon as he'd closed the door behind him. Although their contact was to be minimal and circuitous, with the help of the Gunmen, she was able to send word to Mulder weekly. By the middle of the third week apart, it was crystal clear to them both that their plan had been ill-conceived. The danger to William and Mulder was evident, but Scully truly believed that their power together was stronger than apart. In the end, it had been Mulder who'd relayed the message that he needed to be with her and their son. One week later, he'd appeared at her door -- at three in the morning. "I think we have a sleepy child here," Mulder whispered as he passed William to Scully. Mulder's knee nudged her gently as he fit himself in behind her, positioning Scully between his legs. Kissing the drowsing baby on the crown of his head and then on his pink lips, she then rubbed his cheek against hers, finally settling him against her chest with his head on her shoulder. "So what's in your pocket, Mulder?" Scully tried to turn her head to one side to see his face as he attempted to deny there was anything at all, but the position was too awkward. "What pocket?" True to form. She could hear the smirk in his tone. His arms wrapped around her and their son. "Oh, you mean this pocket?" He moved a hand to pat his hip, resting his chin on the top of her head. She tilted her head back, hoping he could see the look on her face. Jostling them just a bit, Mulder leaned to one side, slipping his hand into his right side pocket, producing a small silver satin-covered box. Holding it in front of Scully, but just out of her reach, he laughed. "Uh unh, not yet." William snuffled, turning his head in the other direction, oblivious to his father's taunting and teasing. Scully was not so oblivious, but with one of her arms wrapped around William, and Mulder holding them both against his own body, her range of motion was severely limited. That didn't mean she couldn't try; which she knew was exactly what he wanted her to do. Sometimes, it was just so much easier to play along.... Letting her arm fall to her lap, she sighed. It was moments like this one that she wished she could freeze; family warmth and comfort, a small oasis of a reality she'd wanted for as long as she could remember. To say that she'd always thought it was beyond her reach didn't seem to capture how good it felt to be a part of it now. "So what do I have to do to make you give me whatever that is, Mulder?" Scully asked and she moved William to lie on his side diagonally across her abdomen and chest. She stroked his cheek with her thumb, the fingers of her other hand lightly massaging his back. "Hmm, what do you have to do..." The self-satisfied smirk in his voice made her laugh; but didn't stop her from stilling her massaging to elbow him in the ribs. His muffled 'ooaff' made her grin widely. "Okay, *that* can wait until later. For now, you just have to listen to a story," he told her, barely stopping to take a breath before he rushed on. He must've remembered just how little willpower she had when a present was dangled in front of her. "...A story about New Year's Eve, wishing upon a star --" "That's not part of New Year's Eve, Mulder." "*I'm* telling this particular story, and it has wishing upon a star in it." Scully let her head fall back against his shoulder, the sound and feel of his voice close to her ear comforting. "As I was saying, you may think that you already know everything there is to know about New Year's Eve traditions, Scully, but I'm guessing that you focused on more mundane scientific facts during your schooling." "And what did you study during your schooling, Mulder? Certainly not superficial trivia to spout at parties." "You mock me, Scully, but you know I didn't go to parties." She could feel the upturn of his lips before he kissed the shell of her ear. "Once upon a time in the Middle Ages, the Church was opposed to celebrating the holiday, so it's only been about four hundred years that New Year's has been celebrated by those of us living in the Western nations." His monotone was lulling her into a much more restful state, aided by the feel of the infant curled up in her arms. But, if she wanted to see what was inside the satin box, she knew she had to stay alert. "You sound like Grimm's Fairy Tales as written by Britannica. I wanted a fun story." Mulder chuffed, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Moving along to more recent times, the Tournament of Roses Parade began in 1886. That fine day, members of the Valley Hunt Club decorated their carriages with flowers to celebrate the ripening of the orange crop in California." She just had to twist enough to see his face. Mulder was a good storyteller, but this one was a little more off the beaten path than his usual fare. His eyes were twinkling beneath a lock of hair that insisted on falling over his forehead. He looked adorable, and she could never resist that look. As if reading her mind, he leaned down, their lips meeting with a slight static electricity zing. Mulder moved to deepen the kiss, but she wanted a surprise of a different kind right now. "Mmm," she hummed into his mouth, and then pulled away. "The story; get on with it," she warned him quietly. "Okay, okay. Sheesh, this is a tough room; I've even put William to sleep with this one, " he commented, pushing a few fine tendrils back from his son's brow. "Anyway," Mulder tapped William's ear with his index finger for emphasis, "the tradition of using a baby to signify the New Year began in Greece around 600 BC. They actually celebrated their god of wine, Dionysus, by parading a baby in a basket, representing the annual rebirth of Dionysus as the spirit of fertility. "Although the early Christians denounced that practice as pagan, the popularity of the baby symbol forced the Church to reevaluate its stance." Someone had set the CD player to play, and hidden the 'pause' or 'stop' buttons. This particular track would continue until it was good and ready to finish. Scully actually enjoyed Mulder's stories; his ability to marshal unrelated facts, figures, and bits of folklore into a surprisingly coherent tale. Sometimes -- just sometimes -- she actually learned something new and useful. She hoped this was going to be one of those times. "Did you want to hear the part about how consuming black-eyed peas and other legumes --" "Legumes, Mulder?" "And other *legumes*, Scully, were actually considered good luck for the new year. Cabbage leaves were also eaten as a sign of prosperity." "Are you cooking for us tonight?" "No. We're ordering in the traditional Mulder New Year's Dinner." "Would that be Chinese or pizza?" Her laughter had jostled William, causing him to readjust his position, huffing softly, his cheeks mimicking feeding. Like his father, once asleep, he tended to stay that way through almost anything. He ignored her question, and wrapped the story up; hopefully sensing her need to reach its ending. "Many people have made resolutions, promises to themselves or their loved ones for the start of the upcoming year. The ancient Babylonian's most popular resolution was to return borrowed farm equipment, for example. But, I digress." "Yes, you do." Scully couldn't stifle her snicker. "I don't know that I've ever believed in resolutions, Scully." That particular revelation, although it made a certain amount of sense considering the source, made her anxious to see his face; to look into his eyes as he told this part of the story. Patting his thigh, she slid forward, Mulder helping her to an upright position. Taking their child into his arms allowed her to curl into his side, drawing the blanket around the three of them. "They're meaningless if there's nothing behind them," he continued, more serious now. "You mean there's actually something you don't believe, Mulder?" Her tone was light, but her question was sincere. One of the things she'd both loved about him and found equally exasperating was his ability to buy into things she couldn't fathom; didn't need to understand. "What I do believe, Scully, is that we make choices about what's important to us, and to those we love. That's where wishing upon a star comes in." No to resolutions. Yes to wishing upon a star. Dichotomy, thy name is Mulder. "You're doubting me, but think about it. How did I find you that night in Democratic Springs? I should've been with you all along, Scully, but I somehow made it there that night. Against all odds." His touch was light, caressing, but his voice held nothing but awe and profound belief. "I never doubt you, Mulder," she replied with tenderness. She looked up; he dipped his head toward her, their lips meeting again. Perfect timing "Now you get your surprise." He held the silver satin box in the palm of his hand, his fingers curling in to steady the bottom as she one-handedly lifted the top off. Her jaw dropped open in soundless wonder. He never ceased to amaze her. "Take it out for me, Mulder. Please." She couldn't manage more than a breathy whisper. The small diamond and crystal star caught the light from the street, glinting as it danced on the fine silver chain. "I don't know what to say, Mulder; it's beautiful." The last word barely made it from her lips, having to pass the lump in her throat. "Don't say anything, Scully; just make a wish." ~::~Finis~::~ |