TITLE: Angels Will Fall (1/1) AUTHOR: Lara Means E-MAIL: darknesslight@aol.com CLASSIFICATION: SR RATING: PG-13 (for a couple of naughty words) ARCHIVE: Gossamer, NO; Spookys, NO (I'll submit directly to both); Ephemeral, YES; anywhere else, YES, but if possible please let me know SPOILERS: any mention of Bill Scully; also Alpha, Three of a Kind, Millennium SUMMARY: Mulder drags Scully to Anaheim to investigate a possible sea monster. DATE POSTED TO ATXC: 04/04/00 FEEDBACK: Hey, writers live for this stuff. Constructive criticism is welcomed at darknesslight@aol.com DISCLAIMER: "The X-Files" is copyright Twentieth Century Fox Television and Ten Thirteen Productions. The show, its premise and characters were created by Chris Carter and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be realized. (I've also borrowed the name of a character from Carter's "Millennium" as a pseudonym. Same disclaimer applies.) AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is *not* connected to my Conversation Hearts stories. It's a stand-alone, with just a touch of RST. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ANGELS WILL FALL by Lara Means Dana Scully's Apartment Sunday, April 2, 2000 9:47 p.m. "Hello?" "Hey, Scully, it's me." "What's up, Mulder?" "Pack your bikini." "Excuse me?" "We leave for California first thing in the morning. Weather forecast is sunny and warm." "Where in California?" "Anaheim. A little too close to the Port of San Diego for comfort, but still..." "So what's the case, apart from you not wanting to run into my brother?" "Swimmers and surfers disappearing off the coast." "So you're figuring it's..." "A sea monster." "Not just a strong rip current." She could almost hear him shake his head. "Sea monster." "And this case came from Skinner?" He didn't say anything right away. "Mulder?" "Actually, no. It came from an online source of mine." "Like the dog lady?" "No," he said impatiently. "This is an *anonymous* source." Her mouth quirked in a tiny grin. "I feel so much better." "C'mon, Scully, a few days in the California sun'll do you good." Scully sighed. "What time's our flight?" "Ten-thirty." "Anaheim, huh? Sure I shouldn't pack my mouse ears?" "Only if you wear them with your bikini." Scully smiled and hung up the phone, then pushed off the sofa to go pack. Hampton Inn, Anaheim, California Monday, April 3, 2000 5:08 p.m. Scully tapped on the connecting door to Mulder's room, not waiting for an answer before opening it. She found him sitting at the small desk, his laptop plugged into the dataport, a scowl on his face. "Mulder?" "Nothing. Not a goddamn thing." She came closer, looked over his shoulder at the computer screen. "What are you talking about?" "No new e-mail from my source. The last e-mail I sent bounced. All the links the guy sent me are coming up 'file not found.' And when I try to access my history files and cache, I get the same thing." He shoved the computer away. "I am so sick of this shit. Sick of being jerked around like this." Scully put her hands on his shoulders and kneaded the tight muscles there. "Mulder..." Her voice was gentle, without reproach, but he didn't hear that. "Don't say it, Scully." "Don't say what?" "'Why'd you drag me all the way out here, Mulder?'" "That wasn't what I was going to say." She let her hands slide down his chest, let her chin rest on top of his head. "I was going to say, 'I'm sorry it didn't work out.' I was going to say, 'Are you sure the guy was for real?' I was going to say, 'Can we go to Disneyland tomorrow?'" She closed her eyes, breathed in his scent, reveled in this opportunity to be close to him, even though he was still distracted, his mind still on this nonexistent case. Her fingernails scratched lightly over his chest, between his pecs. She thought she felt a shiver run through him, and he brought a hand up to cover hers. "Why would somebody fake a case just to get us out here?" He leaned forward, drew the laptop to him again. Scully sighed, her hands moving back to his shoulders as he pulled away from her. "Unless... unless Cancerman had something to do with it..." She came around to stand next to him, leaning against the desk so she could look at him. "Mulder..." But he was back at work, his fingers moving over the keys with a purpose. "There's gotta be a reason..." "*Mulder*." She put a hand over his, stilling his movements, then tilted his chin up to look at her. "Put the Gunmen to work on this when we get back." "Okay, yeah, but Scully..." She slid his laptop back. "You didn't answer my other question." His eyes searched hers for a moment, then he grinned. "Disneyland." She nodded. "Only if you'll ride Space Mountain with me, and we do the Haunted Mansion at least twice." "Deal." She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand in a quick, surreptitious caress. "Meanwhile, what's say you let me take you to dinner?" His mouth dropped open in faux surprise. "You're buying, Agent Scully? Is this a pity date?" She stood, grinning. "Hardly. I'm starved -- we haven't eaten since we were over St. Louis." He stood too, began to roll down his sleeves. "Uh-uh. No suits. I'm gonna grab a quick shower and put on some jeans -- I suggest you do the same." She headed toward their connecting door, glanced back at him. "Be ready to go by six." Scully missed Mulder's puzzled little head-shake as she closed the door behind her. 57 Freeway, Anaheim, California Monday, April 3, 2000 6:24 p.m. Scully sat behind the driver's seat of their rental car, tapping her fingernails on the steering wheel. Mulder sat next to her, watching her, trying to figure out what was up. They'd both changed into jeans and sweaters, carrying jackets in anticipation of the cool southern California night. "Mulder." "Hmm?" "Stop staring." "When you tell me where we're going." She glanced at him, an enigmatic smile gracing her lips. He shook his head, turned his attention to the traffic around them that was getting heavier by the minute. "So... we're on the 57 Freeway during rush hour, in an attempt to take my mind off the fact that this case has dissolved before my very eyes, going Scully-knows-where for dinner..." He looked up as she changed lanes, eyes widening at the green and white sign overhead. "Scully..." "Yes, Mulder?" "This is the exit for Edison Field." "Yes, it is." A confused smile flickered across his face. "Edison International Field. Where the Anaheim Angels play." "Uh-huh." She pulled an envelope from her bag and handed it to him as the car fell into line at the parking lot entrance. She stole a glance at his face as he opened the envelope. "Happy birthday, early -- or late. Whichever." The look of pure joy on his face when he pulled the tickets from the envelope was worth every bit of the effort it took to set this up. "Scully... Opening Day. Yankees, Angels... Opening Day. Scully..." "How do you feel about hot dogs, Mulder?" It was a good thing the car was stopped when he pulled her into a tight embrace. Edison International Field Monday, April 3, 2000 10:34 p.m. The home-town crowd was grumbling at the 3-to-2 loss -- but Mulder and Scully were on their feet cheering. From their excellent seats behind the Yankees' dugout, they devoured lots of hot dogs, popcorn, peanuts and beer, yelled at the umps, taunted Mo Vaughn when an incorrect call went their way, and generally shouted encouragement to the National Champions whenever it was needed. All the while, Mulder explained the finer points of the sacrifice fly and the origin of the term 'tater' -- and Scully beamed, thrilled that she could please him this much. He was so excited he didn't question her further when she told him she'd pulled some strings to get the tickets. It was a good thing, too -- she'd gotten them from a friend of Bill's who worked for Disney, and she was certain that both brother and partner would be mortified if they found out. They held hands on the way to the car, neither of them really conscious of it until they got there. She held the keys out to him with a big yawn and moved to the passenger side. He took the keys and held onto her hand, backing her up against the car as he did. She looked up at him, at the little-boy smile still lighting up his face, and had to smile herself. "Scully... I don't know what to say..." "Did you have a good time?" He laughed, put his arms around her, kissed her cheek. "Yeah, I had a good time." "Good. Then don't be mad at the guys. They owed me after that Vegas thing." His eyes grew wide. "You..." "Well, I couldn't just say, 'hey, Mulder, wanna go to California for a baseball game,' could I?" He smiled again, his eyes soft. She laughed a little, let her hands linger on his chest, his shoulders. "On second thought, I probably could." Mulder shook his head a little, brought his hand up to caress her cheek. "You." It was a whisper, full of meaning that only two people in the world would understand. Her eyes found his lips as he leaned close to her, brought those lips to hers in a gentle, tentative kiss. Scully slid her hand up to his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. Her mouth softened and her tongue teased at his lips. He pulled back a little, somewhat surprised -- then he kissed her again, deeper this time, his body pressed against hers, their tongues exploring each other's mouths. Her mind flashed back to the last time they'd kissed, on New Year's Eve, in a hospital waiting room -- this was how she'd wanted him to kiss her then, but she hadn't had the courage to make it happen. A car full of disappointed Angels fans circled them, horn blaring, and they parted. She looked up at him, her hands still buried in his hair. She smiled. "So Mulder... when do the Yankees play their home opener?" END ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ END NOTE: Just dashed this off as I watched the game. To any Angels fans -- sorry 'bout the loss, and no offense intended. (My alternate title was Yankee Blues, although I'm a Dodger-Blue gal myself...)