Marriage Three: "Watching the Storm" 
by Juliettt@aol.com (July 20, 1995)

This is the third entry in the Marriage series, which follows 
"Epithalamion" and "Wonders Wrought" and the prequels that come 
before them.  Oh, did I mention there will be prequels?  Well, one, at 
least.  It's in the works, but it's much longer and involves a real case 
<gasp!>.  This one takes place a couple of months after the events 
in "Epithalamion."

Oh, and of *course* Dana Scully (Mulder) and Fox Mulder do not 
belong to me, nor does Bill Scully Sr., who is mentioned in this 
story.  They all belong to Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen Productions 
and FOX Broadcasting and Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny, 
and I'm borrowing them with great love but absolutely no permission.  
_Peer Gynt Suite_ is by Edvard Grieg.  This story, however, is mine.

*****************************
"Watching the Storm"
by Juliettt@aol.com
*****************************

	"Mulder, come here."

	Fox Mulder looked up from the book he was reading.  His 
wife stood in front of him, her hand outstretched.  He sighed and put 
the book face down on the floor next to the sofa and stood up, 
taking her hand in his.

	It was a lazy Saturday afternoon.  They were all caught up 
on paperwork, and they were in town for once, so they had decided 
just to stay at home, relaxed, enjoying being together without the 
pressures of work to distract them.  They had spent a better part of 
the afternoon on the sofa, his head in her lap, reading silently.
	
	It was an opportunity they did not have very often.  Ever 
since being reassigned to separate, "sister" divisions, they had been 
busier than ever.  They had to admit that Skinner's plan had been 
pure genius, though -- with one deft move he had allowed them the 
freedom to pursue a personal relationship without breaking up one of 
the most efficent partnerships in Bureau history.  In fact, though it 
had seemed impossible, their solve rate had actually improved by 
several percentage points in the months they had been married.

	And they were spending even more time together.  Not only 
at home, although they revelled in the everyday pleasures of cooking 
together, the long silences as they read the morning paper in bed or 
in the breakfast nook, not to mention the wonderful, passionate 
nights in bed or in front of the fireplace, and waking up in each other's 
arms, knowing they would face the day -- and all the rest of their days 
-- together.

	At work, too, they spent practically every moment within 
sight -- or within reach -- of each other.  They had worried at first 
about spending *too* much time together, but that had not become 
a problem.  It must be different for other couples who were "couples" 
first and *then* became work partners, they surmised.  Because 
their professional lives had revolved around one another for so long 
there was not that sense of intrusion that might have spoiled their 
partnership.  If anything, the life they shared beyond the walls of 
their adjoining offices only made them closer and more compatible 
professionally.

	Their new offices were on the third floor -- with windows, as 
Skinner had promised.  Scully's had a private lab at the back, and 
the offices themselves were really just one huge room divided down 
the middle by a wall with a door in the center.  Another door in each 
office opened on the hall.  The means for privacy was there if they 
needed it, in the form of the door.  Which always stood open.

	He loved to look up from his desk and see her at work in 
the next room, her bright head bent over a file or her computer, or 
just to hear her moving around in the lab, enjoying the sound of her 
soft low voice as she dictated into the microphone even though her 
words were not clear.  And sometimes, the times he loved best of all, 
he would look up and catch her watching *him*.  Then they would smile 
and nod and talk a little before they went back to their work . . . or 
didn't. . . .

	Now, she tugged on his hand and he followed her to the 
front door.  She opened it and they stood watching the storm, the 
grey-and-black clouds edged in livid white roiling over the trees.  In 
the distance they could see the rain hanging like a misty sheet 
from sky to earth, its bottom edge brushing the ground as it raced 
towards them.

	"It's going to be a bad one," he commented.

	"Yes," she said simply.  But her tone caught him by 
surprise, and he bent to look into her face.  Excitement.  Joy.  
Wonder.  He smiled at her and then straightened up, pulling her 
back against him, his arms around her.  She wrapped her arms 
around his and they stood holding each other, watching the sky.

	"You love this, don't you."  It was not a question.

	Her head nodded under his chin.  "Always have.  When I 
was little Mom and Dad used to play records of _Peer Gynt_.  I was 
always afraid of that part of "In the Hall of the Mountain King" with 
all the cymbals and timpani, and I would hide behind the speaker 
when Daddy would describe the Mountain King chasing Peer Gynt.  
It always sounded like thunder."

	Mulder nodded, waiting.  Since they had married she had 
told him many stories of her father.  It was healing for both of them, 
for him because he had never had that closeness with his own 
father.  For her, because she missed hers.  He hoped his own 
children would love him as much as Scully did her father.

	"One night it started storming and I was scared.  Mel 
laughed at me, but I was so terrified I ran out of our room to go climb 
in bed with Mom and Daddy.  I must have been about five."  Her voice 
trailed off for a moment.  "But when I passed the stairwell I saw Dad 
standing in the open doorway, watching the storm.  So I went 
downstairs and he picked me up and we stood there for awhile.  Then 
he asked me if I were still afraid.  I knew I was safe with him, so I said 
'No.'"

	The thunder crashed and he hugged her more tightly.

	"So he carried me outside and we stood in the rain for a few 
minutes.  It wasn't raining hard -- just starting to come down, like 
now."  A fine, falling mist began to sweep across the front yard.  
"And then it really started to storm, and he put me down and told me 
to go back into the house.  I ran up under the porch and turned 
around.  And Dad was standing in the rain with his arms 
outstretched, laughing into the wind.  Mom would have thought he 
was nuts," she said, laughing a little herself, "so I never told her.  
After a few minutes he came inside and we dried off and he wrapped 
me in a blanket and we had hot chocolate.  I was never afraid after 
that."

	"The storms made you feel closer to your father."

	She nodded.  "When he was away at sea I would watch the 
storm and think about him, that maybe his ship was out there riding 
out the same storm.  Sometimes I worried about him then.  But 
sometimes I would tell myself that maybe the fact that it was 
storming *here* meant he had calm waters *there*."  

	They stood in silence for a few minutes.  The rain was really 
beginning to fall now, and the sky had darkened so that it looked like 
night.

	"As I got older one of my favorite things to do was to curl up 
on my bed and read and listen to the rain on the roof.  Sometimes I 
would fall asleep like that."

	"Come on," he said, taking her hand again and pulling her 
forward.

	"What. . . ?"  But she let him lead her out into the rain.  
Hand-in-hand they ran across the front yard and turned to face the 
house, their faces upturned to the raging sky.  Lightning flashed 
and he saw her mouth moving as she counted the seconds.  
*CRASH!*  He jumped but she merely laughed.  "Four miles!" she 
shouted over the storm.

	"This is crazy!" he shouted back, then laughed.

	She nodded and pulled him back towards the house.  They 
ran up the steps just as the wind began to howl and the storm 
picked up in earnest.  They raced in and slammed the door, laughing 
and breathing hard.

	"Hey, Mulder -- why don't you build a fire in the fireplace 
and I'll make us some hot chocolate?" she suggested.  

	"Or," he said slowly, "we could curl up for that nap."

	She stared at him, then smiled and nodded.  "Okay," she 
said.  "I'd like that."

	As they walked through the house lightning flashed and the 
thunder followed it almost immediately.  The power went out, and 
they continued in almost total darkness.

	In the bedroom they stripped off their wet clothes and 
changed into pajamas -- t-shirt and boxers for him, a nightshirt for her.  
She climbed up onto the bed and he slid in behind her, spooning her 
body against his.  She sighed and cuddled up against him.  
"Nice. . . never done this with anybody else before."  She was safe 
with Mulder, as safe as she had ever been with her father.

	He smiled into her damp hair and thought about this 
wonderful, enigmatical woman that was his wife.  Ever since he had 
known her she had been cool and calm and professional at the office.  
Now that they were married he was discovering other sides to her 
personality as well.  A warm, caring domesticity that contrived to be 
nurturing yet not stereotypically "female."  And now this wild, 
untamed side of which he had caught occasional glimpses even 
before they were married.  He grinned.  He would enjoy spending 
the rest of his life trying to figure Dana Katherine Scully Mulder out.  
And then he remembered something she had said to him once, a 
long time ago.

	"Scully," he whispered as he kissed the top of her head, 
"you just keep unfolding like a flower. . . ."

*END*

Dedicated to my father, with fond memories of "The North Wind". . . .


Juliettt's Marriage Series:

"Epithalamion"
"Wonders Wrought" (2 parts)
"Waking"
"On the Road"
"Girls' Day Out"
"Watching the Storm"