TITLE: Storm
AUTHOR: Liz Owens
E-MAIL ADDRESS: cantwaltz@aol.com
FEEDBACK: Proudly hung on the refrigerator
DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer and the usual atxc haunts. Anywhere else, just
let me know where it's going and leave my name and such attached.
SPOILER WARNING: None
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: V
KEYWORDS: MSR
DISCLAIMER: No, Mulder and Scully aren't mine--they belong to CC, the
fine folks at Fox, and 1013 Productions.  "Never for money, always for
love...."  But I'd offer them my spare umbrella any time they asked.
SUMMARY: Scully gets caught in a downpour.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just a little holiday fluff of a fontfic.  The font Storm is by
Fontmaker and is available at http://replugge.net/fontmaker. Thanks again to
Jori and Mojo for letting me play.

Storm

"While these clouds and this somber drizzling weather shut all in, we two draw
nearer and know one another."
 - Henry David Thoreau

She had just an instant of warning.  One cold drop of water slithered down the
back of her neck as she bowed her head against the sudden north wind.  Then the
skies opened and fat raindrops splattered her coat.

She dashed under an awning over the doorway of a store front.  A For Rent sign
hung drunkenly in the window.  As the rain pelted the sidewalk, she thought
longingly of the umbrella that she kept tucked under the passenger seat of her
car--a car that was three blocks to her left.  And of her destination, two
blocks to her right.

Water pockmarked the paper of the three shopping bags that she carried, so she
drew further back into the doorway.  She juggled bags, briefcase and purse so
that she could free up one hand to search for her cell phone.  She was already
late, and she needed to apologize to the person who was waiting for her.

"In a nice, warn, *dry* restaurant, with a fireplace and a bar," she grumbled
aloud as she flicked open the buttons of her coat.  She reached for her phone,
her fingers stilling as they met nothing but silky fabric.

She closed her eyes in frustration.  She'd called to check her messages while
she was driving over and had tossed the phone on top of her briefcase when she
had finished the call.  She must have forgotten to grab it in her hurry to
finish her Christmas shopping before dinner

"Oh, dammit," she groaned.  If she didn't have three paper bags full of gifts,
she would run for it.  But the delicate cashmere shawl she had purchased for
her mother--not to mention the stuffed tiger she had bought her nephew--would
be ruined.  She rubbed the back of her neck as she tried to think of a
solution.

"Rough night?" a man asked from behind her.

She spun around, startled.  The man chuckled softly.  "Sorry, I didn't mean to
scare you.  You just looked upset about something."

She inclined her head, indicating the deluge just past the shelter of the
awning.  "I left my umbrella in the car, which is in a parking garage three
blocks from here," she admitted.  "And I can't get these bags wet."

He held up a small paper bag of his own.  "I know. And after I coughed up the
extra six bucks for the deluxe gift wrap, you know?"  He sighed dramatically
and ran a hand through his damp hair.  "I had my umbrella, but I must have left
it at the counter.  I was in a hurry because I'm running late."

"Me, too," she said.  "I didn't expect there to be so many people out shopping
tonight.  The lines were terrible."

He looked down at her, his brow furrowed as he examined her face.  "I don't
know.  You look like the hum-carols-to-herself-as-she-stands-in-line kind of
woman to me." He shifted so that his shadow no longer fell onto her figure.
"In fact, I bet you are the type who can wrap a box and make it look too nice
to open.  And that you keep your tree up until the needles gasp in protest and
throw themselves to the floor."

She laughed out loud.  "Well, um, yes, as a matter of fact," she admitted.
Then she tilted her face down as an unexpected wave of bittersweet memories
pierced her.  "Usually, that is."

"Holiday blues?" he asked.

She nodded and tucked a damp strand of hair behind one ear.  When he didn't say
anything, she looked up at him and saw a spasm of emotion cross his face.

He cleared his throat.  When he spoke, his voice was low and gruff.  "I think
that's why the holidays are so difficult for so many people.  Those we've loved
and lost--they never seem closer to us--or farther away."

"I know what you mean," she said softly.

They stood silently for a moment, each wrapped up in their own thoughts.  Then
the man said, "So, what are you going to be late for?"

She looked up at him, puzzled.  "What?"

He stuck out a hand to test the force of the rain and jerked it back quickly,
shaking the droplets off his fingers.  "You said you were running late.  You
must be late for *something,* then."  He grinned, white teeth gleaming in the
harsh illumination of the street lights.  "A hot date?"

She frowned.  "I wouldn't call it that.  Maybe not even a--"  She caught
herself and smiled.  "I am a terrible liar.  Yes, it's a date.  Maybe not a
*hot* one, but a date just the same."  She arched a questioning brow.  "What
about you?"

"A date," he said absently, as though he was still mulling over her reply.
"She's spending Christmas with her family, and I won't see her for a few days."

"And you're not invited?"

He half-smiled.  "I'm not big on family stuff."  He indicated her overflowing
shopping bags and again held up his one small one.  "Then again, that has its
advantages.  I save time, money, and my arm muscles."

She reorganized her parcels so that the weight was more evenly distributed.
"Well, there is that."

He held out a hand.  "Can I hold some of those for you?"

"Thanks, but I've got it balanced now."  She looked out at the rain.  "Do you
think it's letting up?"

"No."  He watched the rain pound against the sidewalk and splash his shoes.
Finally, he said casually, "So, tell me about your date.  What kind of guy is
he?"

"That's a very personal question," she said shortly, trying hard not to smile.

A pause.  "I don't suppose you want to talk about basketball, then?"

"Not really."  She shivered a little in the wind as the silence stretched.  "Do
you really want to know?" she asked finally.

He laughed.  "Let me see if I can guess, OK?"

"Um, all right."

He looked her up and down, taking in the tailored suit that was visible under
the open buttons of her coat, the impossibly high heels on her small feet.
"Well, we've established that you're a traditionalist.  So I'm guessing he's a
bit less conservative than you are."

Her mouth curved.  "You could say that."

"Educated?"

"Very."

"And you don't seem to talk very much--not that that's a bad thing," he said
defensively.  "So I bet he rattles on and on and on.  And you have to fight to
get a word in edgewise."

"Ye-"

"I'll bet he's also crazy about you.  Showers you with affection."

"Well, you have the crazy part right," she murmured.  "But the only thing he
showers me with are these wild theories.  And I've known him for seven years,
and he has remembered my birthday exactly once."

He looked surprised.  "But he makes up for it later, doesn't he?"

She thought about a late night rendezvous in a batting cage.  "Oh, yes, he
does," she said softly.

The man stepped closer to her.  "And I bet," he said quietly, "that when he
sees that look on your face and knows that you are thinking of him, that he
considers himself a very lucky man."

The rain, the cold, and the wind disappeared as she looked into the man's face.
 "He's never told me that," she whispered.

"Have you told him how you feel about him?"  When she shook her head, he
continued, "Well, maybe he's afraid.  Worried that you don't return his
feelings.  You do, don't you?"

She nodded.

"So, why don't you tell him?"

She searched her heart for an answer, and only one made any sense.  "Because he
already knows," she said finally.

He gave her a crooked grin.  "Yes, he does."  And then he leaned down and
kissed her.

When they pulled apart, she stroked his cheek with tender fingers.  "Mulder,
you are such a flirt," she scolded gently.

"Only with you, Scully," he said, sliding an arm around her shoulders.  "Only
with you."

And they watched the rain fall.


END