Title: Le Chat Author: Suzanne Schramm (sister_suze@yahoo.com) Classification: MSR, V, UST Rating: PG Spoilers: "all things","Je Souhaite" and "The Goldberg Variation" Archiving: Gossamer and Spookies okay. Everyone else please ask first. Disclaimer: Not even remotely mine, which is a pity since I can keep track of little things like the mytharc and who did what to whose cat for how many Friskies better than their creator. So go ahead and sue me, Chris, I've got a litterbox with your name on it. Summary: Our heroes indulge in some wishful thinking. Sequel to "Serendipity" http://alanna.net/sue/seren.txt There will be another story to follow... For Barb, because she asked. And for M, because she kept asking. Thanks to Susanne for the beta, the motivation, and the inspiration. I also need to thank Alanna and M for their offers to beta on the spur of the moment and their willingness to haggle over the details with me. We're still friends, right? **** "Le Chat" Je souhaite dans ma maison: Une femme ayant sa raison, Un chat passant parmi les livres, Des amis en toute saison Sans lesquels je ne peux pas vivre. Guillaume Apollinaire (translation in Author's Notes) **** Scully stands up and stretches. I can't help but watch her over the top of my book. As her hands reach towards the ceiling, her shirt rises also, offering me a glimpse of flesh. She drops her hands, rolling her neck until it pops, a habit of hers that always makes me cringe. Scully insists it's just nitrogen rushing in to fill the partial vacuum created when the vertebrae separate. To me it sounds like the slow onset of paralysis. Satisfied with her spine's new alignment, she slowly works her way from right to left across the dusty and forsaken office we've occupied all day. Occasionally she nudges a book aside with her stockinged feet as she searches the stacks spread out all around us. She pauses and then turns, creeping back to a volume she had rejected. Crouching down, she picks up the book and examines its cover. Her brow furrows and she gives a soft sigh before letting it drop to the floor with a dull thud. She kneels, bracing one hand on the floor as she strains for a book just out of reach. I move my leg a little to the left and bump the pile closer to her. She murmurs her thanks and sits back on her heels, the hem of her skirt creeping up a couple of inches in the process. I look back at my book, trying to remember why I was so insistent about sifting through the research stacks today. We could have been out canvassing with the rest of the team in the spring sunshine. Instead the day has passed without a single correlation - just like Scully cautioned this morning. To her credit she hasn't yet said, "I told you so." I peek at her again, watching her eyes scan back and forth across the yellowed pages. She had that same look of concentration on her face last week when I invited her over to watch 'Caddyshack'. How a person can fail to understand the humor of Bill Murray is beyond me, but Scully approached it as if he were an X-File. She asked me that night about the genie, what I had wished for. I didn't tell her, afraid that if I spoke it out loud it wouldn't come true. I wonder where the genie is now - if she's happy. I hope she is. The sun breaks through the clouds outside, winning out against the sooty window to flood the office with late day sunshine. Dust motes dance in the air and I follow the flight of one as it flirts with Scully. She brushes it aside as she absently tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. I can see the red outline of her veins against the transparent pink skin of her ear. I am awestruck. While I know that Scully is corporeal, I am suddenly taken with just how fragile life is. I should toss this book aside and tell her, using real words and not my usual banter, how fortunate I am to know her. Scully must sense my gaze, for she looks up and gives me a quizzical look. "What?" Tongue-tied, I stare back at her and then shrug. "Nothing." She looks at her watch and I follow the movement, mesmerized now by her hands. "It's nearly seven o'clock. Are you hungry?" How is it I have never noticed her hands before? She has a dancer's hands, graceful and full of expression. Prickles of sensation run down my arms at the realization that those hands have touched me. "Mulder?" I manage to meet her gaze, feeling unaccountably like I've been caught at something criminal. Scully flexes her shoulders and gently sets down the book she was holding. "We can try again tomorrow." She's interpreting my solemnity as dejection, and I shake my head at her as she stands up to go in search of her shoes. "Seriously, Mulder, we can come back tomorrow morning. There are plenty of agents out in the field, someone needs to keep looking in here." Her shoes now on, she stands with a sunbeam slanting across her hip. The suit she's wearing looks navy blue in direct light. I wonder if it's the same suit she had on the night she kissed me at my apartment. Does she know I wanted to kiss her again when I invited her over to watch a video? In the end it seemed too manufactured a situation to be putting the moves on her. Perhaps when we return home I'll take that risk anyway. I smile up at her and she looks at me like I've lost my mind. I stand and take her elbow. "Let's go eat." *** "Okay, Mulder, I'm curious." Scully doesn't look up from winding the spaghetti around her fork. "I have to know. What was your final wish?" "You *have* to know?" I take a sip of water, watching her over the rim of the glass. A flush creeps across her cheeks. "It's not vitally important to my future happiness, no. But I would very much like to know what you wished for." "What would you wish for?" I set the glass down and lean forward, waiting for her reply. Our eyes meet and she gives me a beguiling smile. "Don't change the subject." I sit back and shake my head. "I'd tell you, Scully, but then I'd have to kill you." She frowns at me. "You're really not going to tell me, are you?" "Nope." I take another sip of water, warming to this new game. "What if I guess? Would you tell me if I got it right?" Now that is an interesting proposition. What does she think I would wish for? "Shoot," I tell her. She takes another bite, chewing slowly while she thinks. At the next table a small boy named "Kevin!" throws his cup to the floor for the third or fourth time. His harried mother gathers him up and hustles him away. "Was it a personal wish or did it benefit mankind in some way?" She tilts her head, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she assesses me. I shake my finger at her. "No hints. Just guess." Scully taps her fork lightly against her plate. "It must have been personal, I haven't seen anything drastic happen on the global front." I give a non-committal shrug and she smiles. "But I don't think it was personal as it relates to you. I think you made that wish for someone else." "Frohike isn't any taller," I tell her. "Kersh hasn't taken any sick leave," she counters. "Hemorrhoids usually don't require sick leave." She makes a small coughing sound and dabs at her mouth with her napkin to hide a smile. Kevin's father stands up and tosses some money on their table, giving us an apologetic grimace as he passes our table. "You set the genie free." I look away and she knows she has me. I pick up my fork and push my food around, not understanding why it should make me feel vulnerable that she knows me so well. Scully doesn't say anything further, and we both watch out the window as Kevin's mother and father argue over the top of their car in the parking lot. "And what would you wish for, Scully?" She turns to face me and takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "I don't know. I suppose I'd wish for the same things you did." A busboy appears at Kevin's table and begins to clear their dishes. A dark streak runs across the table and the busboy tries to sop it up with a rag. Apparently Kevin's drink soaked more than just the floor. I glance at Scully and see that she's now watching me, her chin balanced on one hand. "So if you could have one more wish, and it had to be personal - just for you - what would you wish for?" she asks. I wish this case were over and I could sleep in my own bed tonight. I wish that there was some kind of tangible progress apparent in our work. I wish I could somehow communicate to her the emotions I felt earlier in that dusty office. I wish the Mets would sign Radke. I wish Scully could have a Kevin to ruin her meal. "I wish," I start and then a dish slips off Kevin's table, shattering on the floor. I watch the busboy pick up the pieces while my thoughts splinter. When I look back at Scully she has her head tilted, waiting for me to continue. "Nothing," I mumble. "I'm tapped out." She gives me a dubious look and goes back to her spaghetti. **** As we walk across the plaza to our hotel, Scully slows and then stops, staring at the glow of the evening's sunset. "Do you know what I would wish?" "What?" I ask and she leans against a concrete planter box and folds her arms. "Do you remember that prairie sunset?" I look up, seeing the stars beginning to twinkle above us, remembering perfectly the night she's talking about. As the sun sank, the empty plains around us turned orange and then fire-red. I stopped the car on a gentle slope, and we sat on the hood watching in silent amazement as the clouds caught fire overhead and then faded to a purplish-pink. Above us the sky was so large and full of stars that I felt dizzy. The wind had picked up as the sunset faded, so we retreated to the interior of the car and watched until the last sliver of light disappeared on the horizon. "I remember," I tell her. "I wish I could live that moment over again. It was perfect." She takes a few steps in the direction of our hotel. Then she turns and looks up at me. "I get three, right?" "Yes, you do." I sit down on the edge of the planter box and pat the space next to me. "So I can have two more moments?" She comes back and sits down next to me. "You have two more perfect moments?" I'm acutely aware of the warmth of her body next to me. She considers for a moment and nods. "Yes, in their own way they were perfect." "Then I must be in them." I nudge her shoulder with mine. She rolls her eyes. "You are. But I can think of several more you have no part in." "Okay, I won't interrupt. Tell me." "Remember when we were in Chicago, in that apartment with the leaky plumbing, when you tried to turn off the water and you went right through the floor?" I give her a disgusted look. "Speaking personally, I don't think I'd pick that one." "I would," Scully grins at me. "I think that's quite possibly one of the funniest things I've ever seen." "Moving on." I gesture with my hand for her to continue. "And try to pick one that doesn't involve humiliating me." "The night I fell asleep on your couch, and then in your bed." Her eyes are fixed on the horizon, but there is a question in her posture. "I would wish for that, too." My chest is aching now with affection and gratitude for her. Scully's elbow brushes against my forearm as she leans the tiniest bit closer to me. I let my leg press softly against hers. We watch the sun slowly fade until there is only a faint glow in the western sky. She turns and gives me a shy smile. "I'd say that was close enough to grant my first wish." "Close enough for government work." I smile back. "You think there's any chance your hotel room's flooded?" she asks as she stands up. "I hope not. But I do have a t-shirt you can borrow." "Do you know what your problem is, Mulder?" Scully laughs. "You don't really believe I'd take you up on the offer." My heart does a little flip-flop in my chest. "I want to believe." She reaches out and touches my sleeve. "Then I suggest you go find a clean shirt." **** End Author's Notes: My first thought when I heard the title for the episode "Je Souhaite", was of a poem I memorized in high school for French class. You know that old cliche "it loses something in the translation"? Hopefully it doesn't lose too much in mine: "The Cat" by Guillaume Apollinaire I wish for my home: A woman with her wits about her, A cat wandering among the books, Friends in all seasons Without these, I have no life. Since I had her wander amongst the books, Scully is all three.