Title: Everything Author: Bird (spookychic1@excite.com) Spoiler: The Truth, kinda. Summary: What they have, is everything. Category: MSR, angst, angst, angst, but then it gets happy. i promise. ;p Rating: I'm thinking PG-13, maybe R for Nudity. Nothing graphic. Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Especially, not a hit T.V series and it's characters. I am not making any money from this story - in fact, i am broke Archives: yes. just tell me. Feedback: yea! ** I reccomend listeing to 'Everything' by Lifehouse as you read ** In public they are Michael and Katherine O'Brian, from Chicago. Right now they are in the car, and they are Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, two ex-F.B.I agents, wandering the American desert. "You know, Scully," he turned his head from the road to flash her a smile, "we might just find something worthy of 'antique road show' fame." His voice took on a slight sing-song quality towards the end of that sentence, just forcing her lips into a smile, despite how badly she was fighting it. It was so hard to be at ease, these days. "Pleeease? Please, Scully?" he batted his eyelashes at her, in a coquettish manner that caused her to alternately sigh in resignation and lean over and kiss him briefly before reminding him to keep his eyes "on the damn road." They drove to a new town everday, or just about every other day. They didn't know if it was safe to stay in one place for much longer than that. They didn't know if they were presumed dead, or presumed fugitives, sought after by men who were virtually unstoppable. They had the open road. They had some semblance of a plan. And, thank God, they had eachother. This was life now. This was life after. Currently, after pulling out of yet another medium-sized burg of the southwest, they'd been driving for 12 hours straight. Well, correction, Mulder had been driving for 12 hours straight. Scully had slept about 6 of them, read '1984' outloud to him for a while, sang along to the classic rock station (much to his amusment) and for about the last 45 minutes had heard nothing but whining from the drivers seat. Every few miles they kept seeing a sign for the "Oakterrace Fleamarket." Mulder really wanted to go. He was being very persistant about this, and although Scully had no clue as to why, she eventually gave in. As they pulled into the makeshift gravel parking lot of Oakterrace's fairgrounds, Scully instantly regretted her decision as she took notice of the sign they'd parked in front of. Mulder must have caught the look of disdain that had no doubt crept onto her face. While her eyes scanned the words, she was reminded of the pronunciation skills of Sylvester the Cat: "C'mon and join the sth-plendid, sth-tupendous, sth-pittin' fun at the Oakterrace Annual Tobacco Sth-piting Contest!!" The enthusiastic sign shouted, and she openly sighed with disbelief at what she'd gotten herself into. "What," he drawled, full Mulder-leer intact, "yuh tuh fancy ah city gurl to be seen at such ah time honored festivity as ah taba-cee spittin' contest?" His chuckle was abruptly pierced my two twin blue swords as her "don't-mock-me-stare" joined in with the infamous arched eyebrow to shut him up. Not perturbed, he swung his arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple and leading her into the crowd of people. "Katherine," he played the necessary game, using her public name, "you need this. I need this. We need this." She sighed, softened against him, and he knew she agreed. "I swear to you," he continued, his arm wandering down to wrap itself around her waist, "no tobacco contests. This could be fun, you know?" They settled into the hoards of Oakterrace natives sifting through piles of their neighbors rubish, Mulder settling his lips beside Scully's ear. "And, I promise, I'll buy you a toffuti-cone... if can find one amid these fields of corndogs and elephant ears." **** He did manage to find her a toffuti-cone -- much to the surprise of the pair. He ate half of it, despite many comments about the joys of "real dairy". And they did have fun. They observed the local culture. They picked up random items, turning over garage sale trifles in their hands as if they were coneseurs, reminiscing about the various possessions clutering their own memories. While winding their way through tables and tables of Judy Jetson mugs, mood rings, blue-haired doilie addicts, and Venus D'Milo busts/clocks, Mulder told Scully of the many New England fleamarkets he had visited as a small boy. "Back then, Sam was just a toddler," he shared, his eyes a warm shade of green he reserved just for her, but his voice dry, "my mother collected antiques, instead of prescription sedatives, and my parents didn't scream at eachother with a passion and volume capable of waking the dead. It was nice." With his admission, Scully's grip on his hand grew firmer, and she stood on tip-toe to brush a kiss on his cheek. "I love you, you know. I really do," she whispered. "I know," his lips found the crown of her head, and then her mouth, "I love you, too, sweetheart." At one point they happened across a collection of sno-globes. Boasting the names and skylines of various American cities. Their owner, a balding pear-shaped man who stated that he had, in fact, emmigrated from Austria in the 30's, was selling his lifetime collection for $2 a pop. Stiking up a one-sided conversation with Mulder, he admitted the reason for his addition to the market. "Ah, it's the wife. Complains and complains of the clutter ...do you see her moving her precious moments dolls, though? He-ell no. And another thing..." Tuning out the man's rambling, Scully's eyes skimmed the table and she noticed a globe of D.C. Picking it up with her slender fingers, she watched as the fake snow swirled around the familiar city. She looked up at Mulder, their eyes having their usual conversation, one that never failed to surprise outsiders. He pulled a $5 bill from his wallet, and handed it to the old man, Scully returning to his side. While Mr. Sampson, as Mulder had come to discover the pear-shapped man was named, placed their purchase in a plastic bag that boasted the phrase, "The Proud City of Oakterrace Welcomes You" he inquired as to "how long you two kids been hitched?"He failed to notice Scully stuff her hands into her pockets, he handed Mulder the change, continuing on in his questioning. "Newleywed's, I'd quess?" Mulder shook the man's hand and waved a polite good-bye as they began to walk away. "Naw, sir, though that is the common guess."He looked down at Scully with an air of complete and total love. "It's been forever." **** Neither in the mood to climb back into a car for the the night, they decided to stay in town. Oakterrace was no po-dunk town, actually around 94,000 residents. So, when they stopped to get gas, they were directed to a largish Hotel on the west side of town. Although their 5th floor room was equipped with the works - a mini-bar as well as a personal hot-tub, when Mulder returned from fetching their dinner (Wendy's) he found the door to the bathroom open and was greeted by the sounds of the shower. Surveying the pastel room, seeing Scully's opened suitcase, he deduced she must have been feeling sticky from a day in the sun, and had passed on the hassle of the tub for a quick shower. Merrily, he set about placingtheir clothes in the dressers and setting their food out so it would be ready when she was. After 20 minutes had passed, their food had grown cold and Mulder decided to checkin on Scully. Even 20 minutes was a long shower for the bathtub queen. He peeked his head in the bathroom, blasted by a cloud of steam, and discovered that a small portable radio was set on the counter, playing the top-10 hits of the week. But even that couldn't cover up the worst sound he'd ever heard in his life. The one sound he truly hated to hear. Scully's crying. Without thought, Mulder stipped down to nothing, tossing his clothes onto the floor besides hers. Padding across the linolium, he pulled back the curtain to find her curled up in the corner of the small sqaure design shower, water from the showerhead mixing with her tears. Copper hair plastered to her skin. All thoughts of Wendys were abandoned. "Dana?" he bent down to look her in the eyes. At the sound of her name on his lips, her face just crumpled. He gathered her into his arms, sitting beside her on the shower floor. She only sobbed harder, settling her face against his chest. He didn't know what to say. So, he kissed her head. He kissed her anywhere he could reach. He told her they would find a way. He stroked her hair and her back. He told her that he loved her. He never once asked why he was crying. He knew damn well why she was crying. For everything. Everything lost, everything stolen, everything sacraficed, and everything tarnished. They sat in the shower, clinging to eachother, shedding tears for a hungry drain, until the water began to run cold and she fell asleep, full of gooseflesh, in his arms. A weary Fox Mulder carried his Scully to their bed. He placed her naked body beneath the covers, rested beside her, back to the headboard and did something he had only recently begun to believe in again. He prayed. He prayed ferociously. He knew she'd held onto reminders. That tattered doll he'd given her a lifetime ago? They kept it with them, it stayed on their bed when it was made. In the backseat when they traveled. The sno-globe was now on their dresser. He also knew that Scully kept a necklace of Melissa's, a crystal the late woman had insisted held 'healing powers'. He knew there was a random picture of the gunmen in her purse. A copy of Moby Dick her father had given to her. A picture Emily had drawn just before she died. He knew that it bothered her that he could see the dead, sometimes. Not beacuse she couldn't believe. But because SHE couldn't see them. When he admitted that he'd seen her father, even her sister once, she had broken down. It was not long after Roswell when he'd admitted his visions to her, and he'd had to pull of the road when she started to cry. Her voice cracked only slightly, when she asked him "If you see... if they come to you... could you... could you tell...Oh God, Mulder, could you tell them how much i miss them?" "Scully, they know-" "Mulder, can you please? Can you just say-" Dragging her across the front seat, he tucked her into a hug. "Of course. Of course, I can, sweetheart." he'd murmered, feeling so guilty that, once again, he couldn't give her what she wanted. Feeling the full weight of that guilt, again in this hotel room, it settled onto his chest like a two-ton weight. He was pleading with God aloud now, begging for his true love's happiness, when he felt a hand on his thigh. Opening his eyes, he looked down to his side and there, as always, she was. Her eyes were watery in the dimness of the hotel room, she'd heard every word, but all she said was, "I'm cold. Can you?" Immediatly, he crawled under the covers beside her, wrapping them together in a cocoon. The soles of his feet ran along her calves. "I'm so sorry, Scully." Her fingers ran through his hair, down his back. She inhaled slowly, memorizing. "For what, baby?" He pressed a soft kiss onto her cheek, as he'd done in Bellefleur. Only, this time, a tear fell from his eye and dampened her skin. He didn't answer, the A.C kicked on with an obnoxious buzz, and she repeated herself. "For what?" "For..." his voice broke on the next word, causing a deep wouding pain in her chest, "everything." Without though, she pressed all of her body to him, burying her face in the spot between his neck and his shoulder. Kissing it. His tears were soaking the top of her head now. "Mulder," she mumbled into his skin, though he heard every word. "Mulder, it's NOT YOUR FAULT." His breath actually hitched and he was shaking now. "Honey, really, Mulder, please?" she was frantic now, to make him understand. She pushed away just enough to catch his face in her hands and capture his red eyes with her own. "It is never going to be your fault. I love you SO MUCH. There is not a day that goes by where I don't thank God for you. I don't want you to be sorry. I just want you. Forever." She watched as he blinked, and nodded slowly. He drew her into a deep kiss before breaking away, sweeping the hair out of her eyes and asking, his forehead rested upon hers, "Let's start forever tomorrow, then, Scully... I know that we've really been forever, well forever, I guess..." Her eyes grew to enourmous width, along with her smile, and she nodded vigorously before he even finished, "but will you please marry me Dana Katherine?" **** Another day, another town. But for one day, at least, Michael and Katherine O'Brian got to be Fox William Mulder and Dana Katherine Scully-Mulder. Yes, they'd married under their real names. This, at least this one thing, this had to be real. They hid the certificate in a safety deposit box in Utah. The service was preformed by a justice of the peace, but Scully had insisted he recite 1st Corinthians 13: 1-7 "If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowlege, and if I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but REJOICES WITH THE TRUTH. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always persevers." She wore a white sundress. He wore that navy colored suit she loved so much. They stopped at a local mall and each had a simple band of gold, engraved with the words: "My Everything" Their honeymoon was in a small motel in Montana. They checked in as Michael and Katherine O'Brian. And the very next day they left for a new town. But in the car, they called each other Mulder and Scully.