Title: With Your Shadow Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com< Disclaimer: Mulder and SCully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is intended. SPOILER: Milagro, The UnNatural...all those ~~~~ With Your Shadow ~~~~ "I was dancing with your shadow slow down memories hall I said wait Have I been seduced and forgotten You said baby haven't we all --New Radicals, "Crying like a church on monday" ~~~~ It was raining again. He snorted at her foul mood and pushed her further up the line, lifting his chin when she glared back at him. The airline counter was a mess of unclaimed luggage and annoyed checkers, all of it only adding to the general confusion in the attempted fliers, and the fury in Dana Scully. She tapped her foot and glanced once more to her watch. "I wonder if a plane crashed," he said idily, not really thinking. Her face went pale and white, and he mentally slapped himself for yet another fumbled play, then gave her a chuckle. "Ha, just kidding. I bet the rain just slowed them down some." She was licking her top lip now, running her fingers in slow cirlces around his wrist. "Can lightning strike the plane in mid-air?" she said, glancing up to him. He grimaced and glanced out to the sheets of rain being blown across the tarmac like laundry on a clothesline in the middle of a tornado. "Scully..." he said and frowned at her. She stared fully at him, her grip thin and tight around his wrist. "You brought it up, Mulder." He shrugged his shoulders under her gaze then sighed in relent. "Yes," he murmured. She shuffled a bit away from him, looking over the heads of the people in front of them to see out the long expanse of window. "Does it happen often?" Mulder licked his lips and rubbed his chin, untangling her fingers from his bruised wrist. "Lightning happens quite frequently." She growled almost and turned back to him. "Mulder. Does lightning often strike planes in the middle of flying? Just tell me." "No," he said, with confidence. She nodded. "You're lying." He sighed. "Scully....nothing's gonna happen. Okay?" She bristled and pulled away from his seeking hand. "I wasn't worried. I was just asking." He ignored her and focused his eyes on the line, silently willing it to move forward, and at the same time, willing the rain to stop too. He supposed that with his will and her prayer (which he could see her silently mouthing) they were going to be okay. Lightning flashed and she groaned. ~~~~ "See, we're above it." She nodded and refused to look out the small scratched plastic window, instead burying her nose into her small notebook, writing down case notes and references. Their last case had wrapped up nicely, though, and soon, she was bored and anxious. She hated this irrational fear of hers, the way it could clutch at her sometimes, drag her down into stupidity and need so quickly. Her fingers around Mulder's wrist in the airport earlier, her questions and her snappish retorts. All of it was a side effect of this fear. Of planes, of death in the skies, of plummeting to her death in a small steel encased tube that weighed tons and would crush against the earth like a bug on a windshield. Delightful thoughts, Dana. Mulder turned to her at that moment, noticing her grimace. "No lightning," he offered and she shuddered. "Mulder. Let me have my ignorance, at least for now." He shrugged, not understanding how she could want to be uninformed, especially since the news was good. She just didn't want to have to think about it, worry that maybe the lightning below them could jump up, attracted by the plane's positive ions, or negative electrons, or whatever it was that made lightning. Scientists still weren't sure sometimes. That made lightning a very precocious thing, a force of nature not to be taken lightly. She wasn't. She was nervous and praying and sweating with all the fervor she had. Mulder was quietly laughing at her; she could feel it. "I hate this," he said suddenly. Distracted, she looked over at him. He was wincing and rubbing his neck with a tight, clenched fist, his knuckles digging deep into his sunburned skin. "What's wrong?" she said, frowning. "These stupid seats make my neck cramp up," he whined. Scully rolled her eyes and moved his hands away. "Here, let me." Mulder turned in his seat, letting her tiny fingers smooth over his shirt, then press into his muslces. He grinned to himself. He should get an award. Not only was he getting a wonderful, free massage from his partner, but he had also made her stop thinking about being afraid. Letting out a small sigh of relief as her hands probed into his neck, Mulder slumped down, head hanging. Ah...he was a genius. ~~~~ The Chicago airport was cold when they stepped off the plane, and he saw her shiver and cross her arms over her chest. He placed his hand to the small of her back and guided her from the small waiting area to the massive expanse of the rest of the building, smelling rain and snow. Shoot. Doggone it all. "It's snowing!" She looked thrilled, and he supposed that was because snow meant it wasn't lightning, and she was safe. "We'll never get our flight in this," he grumbled and she elbowed him. "Isn't it pretty?" "Sure, in a brown slushy kind of way," he said, shrugging with one of those 'who-*does*-that?' expressions. She glared at him, standing still amidst the flow and ebb of traffic, her eyebrow raised. "It's not slushy, nor is it brown, Mulder." She looked like she wanted to say more but he shook his head and gripped her shoulder, hard. "Okay. If it were Christmas, then it'd be perfect. Blah, blah, blah. Let's go see if our plane gets to leave." She paused. "Oh." He nodded with a sarcastic look, then led her to the rows of moniters, looking for their flight number. "Cancelled!" she shouted, almost joyfully if he didn't know better. 'Cancel' was appearing slowly but surely on every single one of the moniters, causing a loud groan to rise from the crowd flocking in the hall. Just then, the PA system came on, and in between crackles and static, they heard that all flights were being cancelled, and that they could direct people to motels, paid for by the city. Scully turned to him and grinned, her smile like the sun, and he wished she'd melt all that stupid snow. "Ha. We're stuck here, Mulder." Sick of everything, Mulder let out a long groan. "This is just too cliched to be real," he said and shook his head. It was March. Hello....March. "Come on, partner, let's get a motel room." ~~~~ "Was that like your version of payback, or something?" she snarled, pulling him aside and pushing him into a hard plastic chair. "Payback?" "For me being so enthusiastic about the snow?" "Oh, Scully. You wound me. I was being Christianly, charitable. Besides, we don't need two rooms -- you can sleep on the floor." "I am most certainly not. *You* gave up the other room, and you're the one who made this decisions without checking to see what *I* thought." "I thought you'd be nice." Scully sputtered to a stop and shook her head, her anger dying away in floods of guilt. "They had six kids, Scully. We can fit into one room, no problem." She sighed and sat down beside him. "I'm sleeping in the bed, Mulder." "I'll scoot over for ya," he drawled, and winked. She raised her brow, but said nothing. He felt bad for ruining her night, with all the snow out there, and her love of being snowbound was sort of catching. "We can have a slumber party, Scully." "What do you know of slumber parties, Mulder?" He grinned. "I crashed more than one." She smacked his arm. "Ow, what was that for?" Scully crossed her arms. "That was on behalf of all the girls whose slumber parties you crashed." He leered at her. "Guys only crash the slumber parties of the girls they like, Scully." "Oh really?" She was wrinkling her nose with memory. He wondered what pimple-faced jerk had crashed her party. "I would have crashed yours." She looked over at him, complete shock spelled in bright blue eye-letters across her face. Then she smiled. "We'll have a slumber party." He grinned and she left to find out what would happen to their luggage. ~~~~ Their motel room for the night was small. She was surprised, because the airline clerk had assured her it would be big enough for both her and Mulder, and had eventually convinced her it would also be okay to give up the second room. It wasn't okay. It was small and cramped. The bed was roughly the size of the ones you found in under-budgetted dorm rooms, cut short and a not very wide, so that she was positive Mulder's feet would hang off the edge. Maybe even her own feet would too. "Oh..." he said, walking inside, lugging the only suitcase they could find. His own. She was already peeved because of that, but now... "Oh, no," he said again, glancing to her weakly. "Six kids, Scully. They had six kids." "I don't know where you're going to sleep-" she started. "Scully! There is zero room on the floor. Zero. Look. The bed is against the wall, the door can't even open all the way, and some idiot stuffed a table in this corner!" She looked at him as if to say, 'so?' "I'm sleeping in the bed, and you're just going to have to deal with it." She narrowed her eyes. "Mulder, the bed's hardly big enough for me, let alone--" He strode over to her, which only required two short steps, and placed a hand over her mouth. It stank of wet dog from bringing in his soaked suitcase. She wrinkled her nose and turned her head away. "Get over it," he said and turned around to slam the door shut. Scully wanted to scream. "Am I that repulsive?" he said suddenly, sitting down on his suitcase, his face a mask she couldn't read. He sounded very still, very serious. She felt awful for playing up her revulsion. He wasn't looking at her. He was hurt. She'd hurt him. Scully sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "No Mulder. That's not what I meant at all...." He still didn't look up. "Oh." She touched his knee, giving him a gentle smile. "It's just going to be cramped..." He flashed her a wicked grin. "Yup..." Instead of raising her eyebrow or rolling her eyes, she leaned forward and gave him a hug, tightening her grip around his waist. He relaxed into her, and she felt the unease and the hurt melt from him. Pulling back quickly, she kissed his temple and ruffled his hair. "I'm going to take a shower. Can I borrow your razor?" His horrified expression made her laugh and she moved away, heading for the bathroom. ~~~~ ~~~~ "I can't live in his shadow Is that where I'm dancing till I die Now I don't light candles Because they make me see the light That I can't help failing. . . And I'm crying like a church on Monday." --New Radicals, "Crying like a church on Monday" ~~~~ She had just stepped out of the shower when she realized she didn't have any clothes to put on, except for the suit she had been traveling in. "Scully?" She heard her name through the door and moved to crack it open. Shivering in the draft, she tightened the towel around her and looked at Mulder, tilting her head. He handed her a white T-sirt. "You can sleep in this. . ." She smiled at him, feeling touched by his care, by the idea that he had thought ahead and knew she would need clothes. "Thanks, Mulder." He nodded and she pushed the door shut, leaning against it in the steamy atmosphere, trying to gain some energy. She was exhausted, and the hot spray of the shower had only made her even more relaxed. Her body felt like spaghetti noodles, and her mind like meatballs. She slipped off the towel and pulled Mulder's t-shirt over her head, feeling it slide smoothly over her breasts and hips. It reached her knees. Must be a new undershirt. All of his older ones had time to shrink in the dryer and they usually only reached the tops of her thighs. Proof that he had been thinking, paying attention. She yanked on underwear and a bra and then opened the door, letting out steam and the scent of motel shampoo. "Looks good," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She bowed and smiled at his chuckle, then moved to hang up her suit. "Your turn, G-man." Mulder pivoted, then pulled his Dopp kit from the bed, grabbing a towel from the stack on the table. They danced around each other as Mulder tried to move past, and she pushed her body against the wall to let him by. She sat down on the bed, glancing at the walls, at a loss for something to do while he showered, trying to figure out what she should be doing. Nothing. They had all night to talk or sleep or. . .whatever. She shivered and pulled aside the curtains hanging from the large window, trying to find the air conditioning controls. The fan was on and it breathed cold air across her knees, making her shiver again and crank the heater on. The blast of even colder air made her growl, and she turned the entire thing off, angry again. She crawled under the covers to warm up and played with the TV remote before clicking it on. Infomercials, infomercials, and more infomercials. What exactly did Mulder watch this late at night? Maybe he'd know what station had something good on, but for now, she turned the television back off. The water stopped and she paused, licking her lips. She heard him moving around, drying off, putting on jeans and a T-shirt, which she had seen clutched in his hand, then zipping up his Dopp kit. She leaned back in the bed, propping her wet hair along the headboard to keep it from soaking the pillow, and watched the door. When he came out, his hands were full and he had his toothbrush in his mouth, his eyes sparkling. He dumped everything into his suitcase, making Scully wince, and then moved to the sink to brush his teeth. "Tell you what, Scully. I'll share my razor and toothbrush for tonight, but tomorrow, we go and buy me everything new." He was very serious, his hands on his hips as he talked to her, the toothbrush clutched protectively in one fist. She smiled and stood up, moving toward him. "Thank you, Mulder. You wouldn't want to share a bed with a girl who hasn't shaved." He grimaced and hadnded over his razor. ~~~~ She was grumpy. "I can't believe you watch this, Mulder." He smiled. "You never know when you might need a neat little gadget like that." She snorted as the woman onscreen fiddled with a white machine. "You don't even know what it does, Mulder." He shrugged. "Well. . ." She pushed him and he caught himself with his foot before he could fall off the bed. "Hey, play nice Agent Scully." She pulled down the comforter and crawled beneath the sheets, smiling at him. "I am," she said, and helped him back up. He snuggled down in the bed and patted his pillow, fluffing it. "So, you really watch infomercials at night?" Mulder glanced slyly over at her, his mouth twitching. "Wouldn't you like to know?" She poked his ribs and tucked the covers around her, sniffing loudly. He grinned and they watched television in silence. Growing bored, he began picking at the sheets with his fingers, smoothing them down, then bunching them up, oftentimes brushing her skin. "Let's do something, Scully." She shrugged. "It's your slumber party, Mulder." He grimaced and clicked off the television, then stood up. She watched him dig around in his suitcase, then hold up a flashlight triumphantly, a silly goofiness in his face. She grunted when he landed back on the bed, leaping from the closet and almost on top of her, his smile large and catching. "What are you doing?" He grinned, then reached over and flicked off the light. "We can tell ghost stories." Scully rolled her eyes. "Ghost stories that you firmly believe in, right, Mulder?" "Naturally," he said. She felt him move against her, her eyes still not adjusted to the dark, wondering what exactly he was doing, his hands briefly connecting with her thigh, then her stomach. "Mulder?" "If not ghost stories, then shadow puppets." She arched her eyebrow, just as the flashlight clicked on, and it illuminated her face. "Agh! Scully. I said no ghost stories." She slugged him, grabbing for the flashlight. "Ha ha, G-man. Now, what is shadow puppets?" "You hold the flashlight, Scully," he said, taking her hand and lifting it so she was shining the light against the bare wall. "Okay." "And you put your fingers like this, and you get shadows that look like animals up there," he finished, making a rather sloppy looking butterfly. She laughed. "I've done this before," she said, pushing the flashlight into his hands. "Let me do it now." He grinned at her and held the flashlight, letting it shine across her fingers. "What is that?" She glared at him. "A gorilla, see?" His eyebrow rose and he tilted his head, trying to make it out. "No. . ." She grunted and pulled up his hands, positioning them in the right way to make the gorilla head. Holding the flashlight with one hand, she touched the wall with the other. "Look, here's his nose, sloped like this, and his small head, and -" "Oh! I see." He grinned at her, excited with his discovery. "Here, let's prop up the flashlight." Somehow, Mulder wedged the light in between the bedframe and the nighttable, so that its light cast across the wall weakly. After an hour, they began inventing silly cartoons to go with the shadow puppets, and Mulder used different voices to speak for the characters. She was laughing at him, trying to keep it up, but while he was making faces at her and speaking deep and rough, she couldn't help losing it. "Hey," he said, looking at the wall. "It's a little alien!" She stopped laughing and looked up, her body on the alert. But he was talking about the image cast on the wall. She sighed. "An alien. . ." He nodded and took her hands in his, calmly moving her fingers and twisting them to make the proper design. He held up her hands to the light. "Alien." She looked at it, then smiled. "I have to admit. . ." He grinned at her and began dancing her hand toward the flashlight, humming the theme to the twilight zone. "Ah, the light, the light. . ." She snorted and their two shadow aliens began dancing together, across the wall, moving with grace and clumsiness all the same, twirling and dipping. She was grinning, her smile wide and and in wonder, laughing when he started humming dance music, then started in on the tango. "Care to tango, beautiful alien woman?" he said, attempting to hold out the little hand of his alien shadow. She grinned. "Certainly, macho alien man." Mulder smiled back at her, and their hands embraced, moving across the light. ~~~~ end adios RM