Fight the Fantasy
by xf-stew
(xf-stew@geocities.com)

part two: Closer to Fine

To reward me for my exertions, she was making dinner.  She stood at the
barbecue across the porch, grilling teriyaki chicken and veggies on
skewers.  I sat watching her in the fading light on the stairs of the
back patio, a glass of chardonnay beside me.

The evening air was beginning to cool, a sign that fall was just around
the corner.  I'd spent all day basking in the warm sun wearing an old
Cal tank top and shorts, but now contemplated the long-sleeved t-shirt
just inside the sliding glass door.

Not yet.  Not until the gorgeous ball of fire above me melted into the
horizon.  I didn't want this wonderful day to begin its end.  Not yet.

It had been a perfect day, made so by Scully's presence in it.  There
were far too many weekends I had spent alone.  Weekends she'd been on
assignments, performing autopsies (nasty stuff, in my opinion),
questioning witnesses and cornering suspects, or chasing monsters.
Sometimes those monsters were ones of the fictional variety, but all too
often they were real; human monsters whose twisted minds and misguided
imaginings led them to prey upon the innocent.

I worried incessantly whenever she was away.  Concentration on my own
work was difficult.  At home, I tried to paint to distract myself, but
she was never far from my thoughts, and everything I saw reminded me of
her absence from the place where she was supposed to be, which was by my
side.

When she was on assignment, I had to relinquish my sense of control, the
feeling that I could keep her somehow safe, that I could protect her.
After the recent battle with the cancer, I felt especially protective.

Not that Dana Scully often needed protection.  She was *quite* capable
in that regard.  Still, I worried when she was away.  And sometimes, I
just worried.

As I sipped from my glass, letting the dry chardonnay roll over my
tongue and slip down my throat, I turned to see Brandy standing close
beside me, her stub-tail wagging like mad, barely able to contain her
excitement.

She'd spent most of the day napping lazily under the blossoming apple
tree in the yard.  The poor pup did that to herself.  She'd be a ball of
unending energy for three or four days, then she'd literally exhaust
herself and spend an entire day sleeping, replenishing herself like a
marathon runner at the end of a competition.

Now, the light brown boxer was ready to start her race all over again.

"Hey there, babe," I said to her, smiling as I reached up to scratch the
top of her head. "I see you've risen from the dead.  You want a little
attention now, don't you?"

As if understanding my words, she moved in, nuzzling my face with her
wet nose before attacking me with slobbery kisses that tickled my face
and made me laugh out loud.  She jumped into my lap as if she were a
baby.
Yeah, a seventy-pound baby with nails that could slice bread.

"Hey, hey, hey," I warned gently, pushing her aside and grabbing an old,
chewed tennis ball lying a few feet away.

At this, she literally jumped for joy.  She bounded up at my hand to
grab the ball from me.  I teased her for a minute until she laid her big
paws on my chest and lunged, pushing me down so we could wrestle for
it.  We played for awhile, her with the ball in her teeth while I tried
to pull it out.

Over my shoulder, I heard Scully close the lid to the grill and open the
sliding glass door.  I paused, though Brandy didn't take the hint and
slammed into me with her powerful haunches, knocking me into the grass
once again.

I shushed her and stroked her flanks to get her to calm down a little,
for my own safety more than hers.

Then I heard a click from the newly-installed stereo speakers I was so
proud of myself for installing.  Brandy looked quizzically at me, and I
put a finger to my lips, telling her to chill for a minute while I
listened.  The dog was becoming more perceptive by the day, and heeded
my subtle command.

Soon we heard the soft, muted sound of a crowd cheering, then the
fast-paced strumming of an acoustic guitar.  Brandy's ears perked up at
the sound.  She cocked her head, her big brown eyes on me.  I shrugged,
but was already bobbing my head to the rhythm of the catchy strains.

Scully stepped back through the door, a covered metal bowl in her hands
as a female voice began to sing:

     I'm trying to tell you something about my life
     Maybe give me insight between black and white.
     The best thing you've ever done for me
     Is to help me take my life less seriously...

She looked out at me and flashed her secret little enigmatic smile as
she set the bowl on the table.

"Who's this singing?" I called to her, an arm wrapped around Brandy's
back.

She approached us, shaking her head in disapproval, "You don't even
know?" She clicked her tongue at me, "And you call yourself gay.  It's
the Indigo Girls."

"Oh."

She arched an eyebrow, "That's all you can say?  'Oh?'"

I put a finger to my lips, "S-h-h.  I'm listening."

The driving rhythm of the guitars ignited something within me, filled me
with an overwhelming sense of happiness, contentment, and peace.  The
music was amazing.  Two woman now sang the end of a hard, rousing
chorus:

     There's more than one answer to these questions
     Pointing me in a crooked line.
     And the less I seek my source for some definitive
     The closer I am to fine...

"Well, what do you think?"

I blinked at her for a moment, then broke out in a huge grin, "This is
*so* cool.  It's great, actually.  I never knew music without horns
could be so beautiful."

Her look bordered on smug, "I thought you'd like it."

     I went to see the doctor of philosophy,
     With a poster of Rasputin and a beard down to his knees...

"Did you just get this CD?"

She shook her head as she wandered back to the grill. "I've had this one
for a few years now.  It's one of my favorites, it has a lot of their
best stuff from live shows and private recordings.  I have all their
otheng for my question.

I crossed my arms in front of myself, "You've had the CDs for
years...and you're just sharing them with me NOW?"

She shrugged, "I loved your jazz stuff so much, I hardly gave a thought
to any other music.  But today, with the weather so nice and the sun
shining and the summer air...well, it just screamed for some Indigo
Girls."

As I listened once more, letting the smooth voices and the lilting
guitar rhythms wash over me, I gave her another smile that told her she
was forgiven for her lapse in judgment.  I held out my arms, and within
a split second she was in them.

"Well thank God the day spoke to you.  I love this stuff."

"So everything's okay?"

I ran my hands over her back, holding her close, feeling her breath on
my neck and her soft hair against my cheek. "Everything is wonderful."

She looked up at me then, taking my breath away once more with her
radiant blue eyes that shone with love; a love she held just for me.

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END OF PART TWO
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