It Happend Tomorrow
-----------------------
by Olivia S.
I did not write this. Any feedback can be sent to
severini@atmos.ifa.rm.cnr.it or I will be happy to
pass it along.
Date: 23/3/98
CLASSIFICATION: X/S/A
SPOILER WARNING: Redux II
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: A temporal lapse allows Scully to ponder the joys of a normal
life. But what happens when a dream turns into a nightmare?
DEDICATION: This one is for Patty Hayes, my editor-in-chief, with
a special thanks to Carol Gritton for the encouragement.
Autors Note: I'm neither American nor English. I hope you'll forgive
me for eventual mistakes and inaccuracies and you'll send me your
opinions about this work, either bad or good. You can e-mail me at:
severini@atmosf.ifa.rm.cnr.it
Please, send feedback!
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IT HAPPEND TOMORROW (1/2)
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"I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to order something. It's Friday
night and we have people waiting for a seat."
Scully gave a quick glance to the Hispanic waiter and then to the
crowded restaurant. "You are right, but I'm waiting for someone. Give me
another few minutes and...another ale." She strove to smile.
The waiter nodded, looking at her with sympathy and Scully felt
like a odd version of Humprey Bogart waiting for Ingrid Bergman in
Casablanca. She was beginning to despise herself. When had she begun to
humble herself in this way for him? When had she begun to allow him to
treat her so? Weren't they supposed to be partners at the same level? To
be friends? Perhaps her brother was right after all. Bill's words echoes
in her mind.
'You would do anything for him, Dana, wouldn't you? He comes
before anything else for you, but he only cares about his fucking little
green aliens. He's just using you.'
She had left a dinner at her mum's place to come there to
celebrate Mulder's birthday, angering Bill deeply. But Mulder was alone
and...Sighing, Scully closed her eyes. The truth was, she preferred to
stay with him rather than with her family. Bill's words reverberated
through her mind.
'Are you in love with him or what?'
No, she wasn't. They were friends. Yet neither this was right. He
wasn't just her best friend; he was the most important thing of her life
and she was really ready to do anything for him, even to ignore what she
felt inside. Because that strange kind of feeling wouldn't be useful for
their search for the truth. He needed for a friend rather than for a
lover and so she hadn't fall in love with him.
When her cancer went into remission, she found herself with a
future once again. She longed to live for a while out of the shadows of
Mulder's conspiracies. To laugh under the sun and to know that someone,
that HE cared for her. But now she realized that she couldn't have both.
A life and Mulder. She had to choose; to live her life or to give it up
for him.
At that moment he sat in front of her. She hadn't heard him
coming. "I'm really sorry, but I was talking with that woman who claims
her husband is an alien. I know you are not going to believe this,
but...Hey, where are you going?"
Scully stood and slipped on her coat. "I'm leaving."
He grabbed her arm. "Scully, I'm sorry! I'd have called, but that
woman..."
"Let go of me." She was furious, but tried to keep a measure
voice. They were in a restaurant, after all, and there were a lot of
people. Mulder loosed his grasp at once, but his hazel eyes took the
place of his hand. He pleaded with her, but she couldn't, not this time.
"I'm tired of you ditching me whenever you have a butterfly to pursue.
I'm not going to allow you to make me feel worthless again."
Mulder swallowed. She wasn't worthless at all, she was the only
one he trusted and a lot more; she was his Scully. Yet he wasn't able to
say such things. Nor had he ever been able to be so open with her.
"C'mon Scully, you know that when someone wants to talk about aliens,
I'm not able to refuse." God, he wasn't even able to call her Dana.
Scully shaken her head sadly. "Happy birthday, Mulder." She gave
him her present, then left adding nothing else.
He didn't try to stop her again. She was right. He opened her
package about an hour later, in his apartment. It held a grey T-shirt
with the message, 'I was abducted by aliens and proud of it!' Mulder
couldn't help smiling sadly.
* * * * *
The bright lights of the city withdrew swiftly in the darkness.
She'd done the right thing. Scully let the window down and a wave of
fresh air, smelling of night, caressed her face and ruffled her hair.
Yes, she had done the right thing. It had been the first decision she'd
made by herself in a long time. And it felt damned good. She was tired
of following Mulder everywhere, worrying about him, holding his demons
at bay. He expected constant spiritual support without realising how
high the price was for her. In four years he'd almost drained her. Now
she knew how to be strong, but she wasn't able to laugh or cry or admit
to herself her real feelings. They called her the Ice Queen, but no one
knew that those feelings stirred restless inside her. No one understood
how badly she hurt sometimes, not even he who had caused all this, her
supposed best friend.
On the passenger seat there was a crumpled tabloid with a gaudy
title: 'Was Elvis really an alien?' Scully bit her lower lip and took a
deep breath, then threw the paper out the window.
'I'm doing the right thing. Of course. So why do I feel like I
just threw away a part of myself?'
* * * * *
Later, he phoned. "Scully, I'm sorry for this evening. I didn't
realise how late it was and then the traffic..."
"The damage is done, Mulder." Scully felt utterly empty by now.
His voice lowered. "Your T-shirt looks great."
She didn't have a response to that.
"Will I see you tomorrow at work?"
"Maybe."
Mulder closed his eyes. He would have preferred a thousand times
her normal sharp rebuke to that odd coldness. This time he didn't found
any joke to lighten the tension, he didn't know how to react to that
unScully indifference. "I'm sorry." He wanted to add that he was a sorry
son of a bitch, but she had already hung up. It was too late. Something
had broken.
* * * * *
Scully fell almost at once into a deep and stirred sleep. She
dreamed about being pursued by a man through narrow tunnels. She
couldn't see her chaser, but his shadow, queerly wide, was hanging over
her. Next, she was on a sort of operating table, surrounded by a white
dazzling light. There were people dressed in white bent over her,
touching her. Unable to move, she started to call for Mulder. Then,
among the eyes of those men, she recognised Mulder. Grinning.
She woke up with a start; her forehead beaded with sweat. It was
pretty dark, but a faint pearly gleam filtered through the shutters. It
has to be dawn. As soon as her eyes got accustomed to the dim light,
Scully felt that there was something wrong.
That wasn't her bedroom. She was in a double bed and the pillow
near hers was all creased. Jumping instinctively to her feet, she
reached for her gun. But she was still wearing her blue pyjamas. No
trace of her weapon. Where the hell she was?
Then she saw the framed photo on the night table. She was wearing
a wedding gown and was standing hand in hand with a fair haired man
wearing a grey suit. They were both smiling. Scully took the photo in
her hand to make sure it wasn't a projection of her dream, but it was
cold and solid. She needed to compose herself. Taking deep breaths, she
ordered herself to search for a plausible reason.
Replacing the frame on the night table, she opened a couple of
drawers at random, but they held only folded clothes. She was about to
close the second drawer when she heard something heavy knock against the
wood. Squinting, she discovered a darker shadow on a gray sweater.
A gun. She took it and went toward the ajar door.
The house was perfectly silent. Clutching the weapon, Scully went
slowly down the stairs and reached the dining room, lightened by a big
window. "Is someone here?" Her voice sounded clear, but she didn't get
answer. Striving to convince herself that it was quite unlikely that
someone could be hidden among the thousand shadows of dawn, she entered
the kitchen. It was clean and pretty, but unable to explain anything.
Crossing again the dining room, Scully passed just in front of
the window. Now it was almost morning, and the light was more clear. She
looked down at the weapon and her heart leapt. It was a Smith & Wesson;
the FBI regulation gun and the number of code on the butt confirmed to
her that it was HER weapon.
It had to be a bad dream.
Once she confirmed she was alone, Scully moved faster. Each
drawer, each shelf seemed to hide some upsetting details. Her FBI badge,
some of her clothes, her books, an album holding known photos together
with others never taken. Suddenly a terrifying thought came to her. She
rummaged in the dust bin till she found a newspaper. It was of Monday 1
February 2000. God, for being a bad dream, it was going on a little too
long. She wanted to awaken.
Obeying more a conditioned reflex than a rational thought, Scully
took the phone that she found on a desk and dialed Mulder's cell number.
A recorded voice told her that she'd reached a non existent number. It
wasn't possible. She also tried to call him at home, but no one
answered.
Now she was really afraid. She was alone in...Yes, where was she?
In the future? "No, this is just a dream." Scully said to the dumb
phone. "Just a foolish dream."
A car. Someone was parking just outside. Glancing out the window,
she saw the man from the photo exiting a grey Volvo and approach the
house. So that was her supposed husband. Richard Forster. From books and
papers she had found in his studio, she had deduced he was a doctor
working there in Washington. It was already ten in the morning and he
must be finished making his rounds. Scully wasn't ready to meet him, she
had to get out of there. Luckily, she had dressed in a pair of jeans and
a sweater and had her badge and gun on her.
While the key was turning in the front door, Scully ran swiftly
to the back, finding it locked. "Shit!" Her eyes wandered quickly in
search of the keys, but it was too late. She heard steps. She turned to
the kitchen door and watched as it began to swing open.
'Behave as natural as possible, Dana.'
Richard Forster smiled at her. "Good morning, honey."
Honey? Did she really allow that guy to call her so? Anyway she
succeeded in smiling back faintly.
He came toward her. "It was a terrible night, but Sunday I'll go
to play golf with Dr. Cole and his staff. Isn't this great?"
"Really great." Scully headed toward the door, but the man
grabbed her hand, making her start.
"You ok?" He wore a woollen grey cardigan and a white shirt. His
hair were cut short and his eyes were the same color of the cardigan. He
had a good look, but seemed older than her. He had to be older than
forty.
end of part 1
It Happend Tomorrow (pt.2)
It Happend Tomorrow (pt.3)
Email: lathus@hotmail.com
