=========== The Emilys Bittersweet =========== "Cause it's a bittersweet symphony; that's life. Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to money then you die." -- "Bittersweet Symphony," The Verve =========== The alarm sounded loudly next to her and she slammed it off before even coming fully awake. She stayed very still, listening for the sounds that would tell her that it had woken Mulder too. It hadn't. She slipped from the bed and into the bathroom, shedding her clothes as she went, shivering and rubbing her chilled hands together. She fixed the thermastat before stepping into the bathroom and turned on the water, brushing her teeth as the shower warmed up. She relaxed somewhat under the needles of morning showers and let her mind slip from automatic and into life again. The birds that had settled outside their apartment, making their ledges a convenient home, started in with their warbling, off-key song and she sighed. The early shock of warm water and soap made her wake and she realized she had to stop staying up late on Saturday nights, or else keep Mulder from her at night. She wondered if he was doing it on purpose somehow; trying to make her give up on going to church on Sunday mornings. She dismissed that and shut off the water, shivering in the sudden cold. She silently pulled on her hose and slip, toweling her hair dry and applying some make-up to her pale face. She turned at one point, her ears picking up a noise and pinpointing it to be coming from him. He was sound asleep still, and she walked over to the bed and placed a light kiss on his forehead. She left and creeped down the hall to Libby's room, easing the door open and peering in. Like always, Libby was up and playing with her baby dolls and Legos. She smiled at her mother and stood to receive her clothes. Dana pulled out a dark green dress and gave it to her. Libby smiled again and said nothing; she knew she had to be quiet for Daddy. The dress slipped over her head and the socks were put on, then the patent leather shoes and green barrettes and she went bounding out of her room to get breakfast. Scully went back into her room and finished getting dressed. =========== Mulder watched her from half closed lids, delighting in the voyeuristic nature of his clandestine watch and sighing a bit that she was so determined to go every Sunday morning. He wasn't going to stop her though. Church taught his little girl morals and principles, and if it made Scully the woman she was, then he had no qualms about letting it shape his daughter. But he missed her in the mornings. So he watched, pretending to be asleep so that he could observe her naturally. She smiled a lot when she thought she was alone. She turned back and forth in the mirror and made sure her appearance was flawless and she fussed endlessly with her hair. He thought it was cute, but she no doubt thought it vain since she never did it in front of him. He listened as she attempted to keep down the noise as Libby ate breakfast and asked her answer-less questions. He strained to hear the door click shut every Sunday and then he stole from the bed and watched them leave from the bedroom window. =========== Dana smiled to the people who passed them and settled Libby down in the pew with blank paper and a pencil. The other children were given their bags of toys and loud obnoxious things, but her child was creative enough and good enough to make do with paper and a pencil: she did not think church should be play time. She tried to avoid the weekly stares and the eyes that asked questions. The church wasn't Catholic, but the congregation acted just like they were. It was tense sometimes, and Scully kept reminding herself that she did not have to explain to anyone. So what if they thought she was a single mother, what did it matter? Libby started drawing and Dana eased into the seat, relaxing again just as she had in the shower. She needed this, despite the stares and whispers, she needed it. It gave her peace and comfort and a sense of justice. She had to cling to that, otherwise she had nothing. Nothing but a pieced together family and a faith in goodness that hung by threads. =========== Mulder found the church easily enough, and the auditorium, too, based solely on the conversations he'd had with her. The people looked at him strangely as he walked through the halls, mainly because he had dashed from the apartment in jeans and a cotton shirt. Not too churchy. But he made it to the services and peered around anxiously for her from the back, eyes scanning every row for red hair and a little girl. A man appeared at his elbow and motioned him away from the service. He glared at the man and pulled away. "I need to find my wife ..." he growled in a low voice. The man smiled. "Tell me her name, sir. I'll help you." Mulder was at a loss. He didn't know what Scully had told the church her name was. They had taken to using their names for very low key things. "Uh, she's short, red hair. My little girl too, Libby?" The man smiled suddenly. "Ah, Libby and Dana. They are yours?" he said, his face smiling and his eyes smiling. Mulder relaxed. "Yeah. They're mine. Where are they?" The man pointed to the far right row, about fifteen from the front. Pretty far up. He strode down the aisle as if he belonged there and slipped up to her row. Scully looked up as she felt the towering presence beside her and saw him. "Mulder," she breathed, stunned. He slid into the seat next to her and kissed her cheek. "Daddy!" Libby whispered in a strained, excited voice. Mulder gathered her up and suddenly, Dana felt the eyes of everyone on her, but in benevolence instead of malice. What a huge difference his sudden arrival made. She hated it. Why did she need Mulder to make everything all right? =========== "Scully," he breathed, lips darting in close to her ear. "Scully, a man followed you this morning." She stiffened and shut her eyes briefly. She didn't want to know this, not now. She could do nothing about it now. "Scully. Did you hear me?" "Shut up, Mulder. I don't want to talk about it in church." She shut her mind to his words and concentrated on the tranquility the old church and the minister gave off. She wanted one thing, only one thing, and that was normality. Beside her Mulder was staring at her as if he'd gotten slapped and his eyes closed into the wary mode. Libby crawled back over to her spot and laid her head in Scully's lap, eyes closing just as they did every Sunday at ten o'clock. Scully's hand went immediately to Libby's forehead and she gently stroked her hair and her skin and her cheek, doodling aimless patterns with her finger. Libby was warm and sleepy and she gave Dana an odd feeling off completeness. As if Libby was returning back to her. Mulder leaned against the arm of the pew, knee touching her thigh and sprawled as if he had the highest disdain for anything having to do with church. She wanted to slap him. Her left arm was draped along the back of the pew, fingers reaching down to touch Libby's side, right arm caressing her, the picture of contentment. But she was churning inside. Dana was tired of having a frail little family that came and went based on Mulder's moods. She was aching for some kind of realness to the whole thing and she felt like she was being used as a rag for his emotional spills. Whenever he hurt, she was there to screw, to take, to abuse ... but when she hurt, he was there to hurt even more. She wanted something to change, something to become clear as to what was wrong in their life. Someone to really be her partner in life. Mulder wasn't even trying anymore. He followed her around, hunted after her, called her all the time, just to make sure she was being careful. But when she got home ... he ignored her, he talked to Libby and said nothing to her; he acted as if she were invisible. She couldn't stand it. She needed him ... and he didn't seem to need or even want her. =========== Church was over, people filed out, but she and Mulder stayed there in the pew, watching. Libby was still asleep in her lap and keeping her warm with her tiny body's heat. "Okay, we can probably go now," Mulder said. "No. I'm going to stay here for awhile, Mulder." Mulder looked at her as if she had another nosebleed. "Why?" "It comforts me." He wanted to ask her what that had to do with anything, but he shut up and sat back down. He knew she had become unhappy lately, so he'd given her space, unaccustomed to dealing with the Scully mood every day. He watched her run her fingers through Libby's hair, and ached for the things he and Scully had missed. Libby's first steps, first words, first anything. "Mulder, this isn't working." "What?" Where was she coming from with this? "Us. It's not," she said softly, not looking at him. "How's that?" "It's not real. It's still just you and me and a little girl who needs us to stay together. It's not 'us.' It's not anything." "You don't think it's real?" "Stop playing psychologist, Mulder. That's exactly what I mean. This isn't real. It's us running away, running for our lives, dragging along all the pain and nightmare of our other life when that's what we're trying to run from in the first place." He stayed silent, watching her, tearing up in his spirit because of her words. He had thought they were doing great. "We're not real." "How can I make it real? How can I change this?" She shrugged and looked over at him for a moment, then down to Libby. "Mulder, right here, in church, I feel normal. I feel real." He smiled. "You look beautiful." She gave him a smile. "I guess I'm just lonely." It dug into him. He couldn't make her whole, he couldn't give her meaning, or enough love to get her through. "I'm sorry, Scully. I don't know what to do." She looked to him and she was agonized. "I don't either. I was hoping you would know." ==========END==========