Title : Running After Rainbows
Author : Shawne
E-Mail : shawne@shawnex.freeservers.com
URL : http://www.shawnex.freeservers.com
Rating : PG
Category: SRH
Spoilers : I loooved throwing in the one from Dreamland :)
Keywords : MSR, fluff
Archive : I'd like to be informed, please, but basically anywhere.
Disclaimers : Argh... isn't it obvious by now that no fanfic author owns
them? They're CC's, DD's, GA's, 1013's, whatever. Just. Not. Mine.
Summary : A lull in the storms at last.

Author's Notes : This is the fourth installment in a series I had thought
would remain a trilogy. The other stories (namely: Eyes On You, Can You
Smell The Rain? and Chase The Cold Away) can be found on my site, or on
Ephemeral. True to the trademark features of this series, however, this
story can be read entirely on its own and without prior knowledge of the
previous three 'parts' (if they can be called that). It's fluff and light
MSR in its truest form, and I particularly loved writing the banter in it.
Set early Season Six, pre "One Son". More notes and dedications at the end.

======================================================
"We are such stuff/As dreams are made on; and our little
life/Is rounded with a sleep."
                  - William Shakespeare, "The Tempest"
======================================================

"Mulder, the rain just stopped."

Something hard digs into my back, just between my tensed shoulder blades,
and I let go of my pencil reluctantly. Turning to face her, I can feel a
frown sketching itself into my forehead, and I have to forcibly swallow the
annoyed words which threaten to lash out at her.

I hate being interrupted.

Even when she's looking at me with just the slightest hint of a smile in
those goddamn lovely eyes of hers. Even when she's waving the metal ruler in
her hand at me and smiling almost playfully. And especially when she leans
over and whispers loudly, "Let's go get some lunch."

Hell, who am I kidding?

Suddenly, and (not quite) miraculously, I forget that I was at all
irritated by the distraction, or that I was just a few minutes away from
finishing a profile I'd been working on for weeks. Lunch just sounds
extremely... good, right now. Appealing. I'm hungry.

This has absolutely nothing to do with Scully inviting me to eat with her.

"Come on," she continues, standing up. "I've had enough of background
checks for a while."

I scramble eagerly off my chair, trying to tidy up after myself at the same
time. Even as I grab my coat, encrypt my work on the computer, shut it down,
and generally try to swim through the chaos that is my desk...  I can't help
noticing that her in box is empty, her out box is full, her desk is
amazingly neat, and she's already in her coat.

Oh well. At least she does some of the work we're assigned to do.

"Where to?" I ask, following behind her as she threads her way through the
cramped rows of desks. As we head for the door which opens out onto the main
corridor, I realise, for the twenty-seventh time today, that I hate this
room. It's small, dingy, and absolutely reeks of bureaucracy and conformism.

God, I miss my basement office. I miss its geographical location, tucked
away in the basement, secluded, far from the masses of worker drones who
otherwise inhabit this building. I miss its smell, a combination of musty
old paper, coffee, and the salt of sunflower seeds. And I miss how I turned
that place into my home, furnishing it with my files and notes and years of
work and research.

Before I sink into further post-separation anxiety, I tell myself to shut
up. To stop brooding and just enjoy the moment. I'm with Scully, we're going
out for lunch together, and she actually seems to be in a good mood today.

"So... what do you feel like having for lunch?"

We are now standing side by side in front of the elevator, and she is
busily checking out her appearance in the mirrored doors. I want to tell her
she looks absolutely perfect, as usual. But as usual, I grab my thoughts
before they can form into words, and pack them into a mental box labelled
'Inappropriate Things To Say To Scully'. My thwarted imaginings will have
good company there, alongside classics such as "Want to get naked with me,
like, right now?" and "God, you are one hot sexy lady, G-woman."

While waiting for her response, I allow myself to gaze openly at her
beautiful reflection next to my... somewhat less beautiful one.

"I don't know," she admits absentmindedly, patting her hair and adjusting
her clothes. "Just something that's not... cafeteria food. Something
simple." She lifts her slim wrist and points at her watch. "We don't have
too much time."

Twenty-five minutes. She's cutting it close today.

"How come you're eating so late, Scully?" I direct the question at her, and
don't include myself in it. I'm obviously not as hung up on being punctual
as she is. When I do remember that my stomach is alive and needs attention,
my best lunch time companions are usually the automatic sandwich dispenser
down the hall, or the cafeteria lady who works the late afternoon shift.

My partner, on the other hand, always clocks out at noon, and is dutifully
back at work by one - even when she's brought her own lunch from home. She
packs up her desk neatly, like she did just now, and eats outside or in the
cafeteria. Only when she's rushing to complete a project does she bend an
iron-clad rule and have lunch in the office.

That's Scully for you.

"It was raining," she points out, and steps into the elevator as its doors
slide open to welcome her. "And I didn't bring anything from home today."

"That's good," I tell her. "I was afraid you were going to treat me to some
of that truly disgusting sour cream and honey you've been eating for the
past two weeks."

"It's not disgusting, Mulder, truly or otherwise," she counters
immediately, folding her arms across her chest and mounting her defensive.
"And it's not 'sour cream and honey' either. It's yogurt and bee pollen."

For some reason, I suddenly get an image of Scully as a little girl, a tiny
red-haired ball of energy, pouting petulantly at me. The little Scully
sticks out her tongue in defiance, and the elevator makes a chiming noise.
The image promptly dissolves, and the doors part.

"You're a scientist, Scully. You really ought to know better." I follow
behind her as she hurries out, thinking idly that she walks awfully fast for
someone with such short legs. "I mean, of all things to eat with yogurt, why
bee pollen? Why not something... I don't know, fruity?"

She marches on ahead of me, refusing to look back or acknowledge my line of
questioning. I smile, finding it oddly comforting that, sometimes, Scully
can act very much like the typical female - moody, irritable, and prone to
completely nonsensical health food kicks. She's so calm and efficient and
sensible most of the time that I often forget she has a vulnerable side.

It's nice to be reminded of it once in a while.

"Come on, Mulder," she calls over her shoulder. "There's not much time
left. We should just eat and get back to work."

Hunger, and an innate fear of being late, obviously cuts down on Scully's
ability to manipulate conversations to her own advantage. I decide to let
her think she has won, for once. After all, I have no real desire to spend a
precious few minutes with her arguing about (of all things!) bee pollen.

I quicken my pace and deal with security, flashing a disarming smile at the
female guard in charge. She waves me through, and I catch up to Scully at
last, just as she pushes through the lobby doors.

A cooling wave of air swirls past us as we move out onto the sidewalk. It
is the last legacy of an earlier summer rain, whispering with memories of
falling from the sky, telling of the stars and clouds it used to know. I can
still smell wet earth and dewy leaves, even as I avoid the spreading puddles
beneath my feet.

"Let me bring you somewhere for lunch, Scully." Turning to look down at
her, I grab and squeeze her hand impulsively, then release it. "Somewhere
outdoors. OK?"

"Outdoors, Mulder? Is that a good idea?" This time, I bolt on ahead of her,
and she rushes to keep up. I start to cross the busy main road, weaving in
and out through crooked lines of lunch-time traffic, only half-listening to
her. "What if it rains again?"

"Even better," I call back, and wave the rest of her rational objections
away. Although the waiting cars are liberally rewarding my ears with loud
beeps and squawks, I can still hear her sigh before she strikes out across
the road herself. I have just turned Scully into a jaywalker, and I can't
help but smile at the thought.

I veer off towards the nearby park, one I pass in my car everyday, and one
I've even strolled through on occasion. It's funny how this tiny island of
green and welcoming quiet so obviously exists in the middle of a
noise-filled, smoky city... and yet I always manage to forget it's there.

It's just... a park. Nothing more than a break in the routine pattern of
crowded buildings and impersonal roads. Today though, Scully and I are going
to take that break. We need it. We need one.

"Mulder, why are we heading towards the park?" Scully is almost running
behind me now, trying to match the pace I have set in my strides. I can't
see her, but I can hear the slight whine in her voice... and I picture the
little girl in my mind again, panting with exertion, trotting after me on
small, thin legs.

"We're going to eat there," I call back, and break into a jog.

"No, we're not, Mulder," she huffs, and I turn. She has come to a complete
stop, one hand on her waist, trying to catch her breath. "There's nothing to
eat there, unless you count the bread little kids feed to the ducks."

"Hey, maybe I know something you don't know," I return, and wait for her to
walk over to me. "We'll get something good. Or at least, it's going to taste
better than six ounces of artificially-sweetened curdled cream."

She starts to bristle at my insulting her usual lunch again, but I don't
give her a chance to. Taking her hand, I walk with her the last few yards to
the open park gates.

"Besides," I add sensibly, "you want to get back to work on time. Eating at
a restaurant or a diner isn't going to get us back to J. Edgar Hoover in
under ten minutes. So it's a good idea to eat here - we'll get the
healthiest and most natural of foods anyway."

"Mulder, I swear, I might eat yogurt and bee pollen, but that doesn't mean
I'm going to eat grass and wood bark." She smiles, and I have to consciously
remind myself to keep walking in a straight line.

Damn, how does she do that? Smile, justify my entire purpose for living,
turn my reflexes into mush, and keep walking... all at the same time?

The trees at the entrance to the park grow closely together, arching high
above our heads, and we move through the dark green tunnel of light onto the
main path. Raindrops live in the air here, sweet and cool and misty, and I
remember all over again why I love rainy weather.

"So... what now?" Her fingers are still mixing with mine, even as she looks
around her in awe. She turns, first to the right, watching the miniature
lake and the ducks chasing each other across its glass surface. Then she
turns to the left, to me, and I study the park reflected in her eyes. I see
trees, a smiling child, two laughing teenagers, and a baby bird dancing in
the wind.

This place is more beautiful through Scully's eyes than it could ever have
been through my own. She sees things that I don't, and in seeing them, she
gives them to me too.

"Uh..." I mumble intelligently, chewing on my upper lip. Sometimes, Scully
makes me feel stupid, with her extensive knowledge of forensic pathology and
science and instinctive common sense. At times like this, she makes me
actually, literally stupid. "We eat?"

"Good plan, Mulder." She smiles tolerantly at me, and swings her gaze
around the lush greenery again. "Wasn't that what we were intending to do
here?"

"Oh. Oh, yes." Reluctantly, I let go of her hand and scan the park myself.
Finally, I find what I'm looking for, and I point it out to her. "Your
gourmet cuisine, mademoiselle."

She turns to where I'm pointing, and stands shocked for a full minute. Then
she begins to laugh, and I revel in the sound of a heavenly choir and
singing harpsichords. "A hot dog vendor, Mulder? This is your idea of
healthy and natural food?"

My neurons return to their proper place at last, and I nod. "Don't knock it
till you've tried it, Scully. Hot dogs, if prepared properly, are the stuff
of which dreams are made."

I can tell she is smothering a skeptical smirk with her hand, and I reach
up to take it in mine again. I've touched her more today than I have all
week, and God... it feels good. I know what Scully's doing; she's humouring
me. Allowing me to touch her, to hold her, to pretend that she's mine. Just
this one afternoon.

"Well, I'll refrain from making a comment about your mangling Shakespeare's
classic lines to talk about sausages, Mulder, because I'm hungry. You might
not be so lucky if I weren't." She leads me over to the little white cart,
and she orders two hot dogs with the works.

"You didn't ask what I wanted," I protest lightly, not really caring
whether I'll be eating meat or styrofoam.

"Who said this is for you?" She takes one small cardboard boat from the
vendor, and waves it in front of me playfully. In the space of a few
seconds, I see Scully as a child again, her eyes lit up with an innocence
she has since struggled to protect, an innocence she has since given up.
Just a happy little girl again, laughing and having fun. This is a side of
her I haven't seen often, a side untouched by fear and conspiracy and the
painful necessity of growing up.

"You're going to eat two?" I deadpan. "Please tell me you're joking,
Scully. You spend fourteen days - count 'em, fourteen days! - eating yogurt
and bee pollen, and now you're going to eat two of those? Boy, when you go
off a health food kick, you go off all the way."

She grins, amazingly enough, and passes me the hot dog silently. I dig into
my pants pocket and come up with a crumpled ten-dollar bill. Just as she
reaches over to retrieve the second hot dog, I pass the money to the vendor,
and our hands brush lightly against each other's.

Big mistake.

She moves away quickly, her face colouring with the lightest of pinks, and
I wait awkwardly for my change.

When there are other people around, Scully becomes more conscious of us, of
the way we behave in public. She doesn't humour me as much, keeping our
interaction to simple wordplay. It would be hard, too hard, to explain why
just touching her is like finding a good dream while awake. So I play along,
try to pretend I don't love her.

It's a lot like pretending I'm dead.

The hot dog vendor grins stupidly at us both, and takes his time counting
out my change. "First date, huh?" he whispers loudly to me, and I can feel
Scully turning a mottled blue next to me. My hand shakes as I hold it out
for him to drop the coins into, and I shift from my left foot to my right.

"Uh... um. No, not... uh.. you know, um... yes."

Scully turns purple, I can just tell, and I pocket my handful of dimes and
quarters hurriedly. "Thanks," I manage in a clumsy aside to the vendor, who
nods pseudo-understandingly. My head bowed, I edge away from the cart and
trail Scully half-heartedly to the bench nearby.

She sits down, her fingers twisting angrily at the cardboard container
holding her lunch, her eyes fixed on some point on the ground. Fearfully, I
sit down next to her, wondering how things could have gone wrong quite so
fast. We were having fun, joking and laughing with each other just minutes
ago.

Damn it.

"Mulder, why did you tell him 'yes'?" she hisses at me under her breath.
She shifts over, as far away from me as possible, so much so that she's only
got half her butt on the bench. I fight the urge to tell her, frankly, that
she should just sit properly. It's not like I'm going to bite her or make a
move on her now. "You know that..."

"Come on, Scully," I interrupt, and fidget over to the other side of the
bench. "If I'd said 'no', we'd have had to explain, like we always have to,
that we weren't together in that way. And well..."

"Well?" she probes aggressively, and I scold myself for wondering if she
has turned maroon by now.

"Sometimes, Scully, I just don't want to bother with the explanations. OK?"
I reach for my hot dog, and bring it to my mouth. Sinking my teeth into
bread and meat and mustard, I rip off a large chunk and start chewing
furiously. There, the faster we get lunch over with, the faster we can get
back to work. Give Scully what she wants for once, and try to get back
early.

Escapism - it's actually a highly-underrated survival tactic.

She doesn't say anything, and I can't, because my mouth is full. I lift my
head and keep it perfectly straight, so that I can't see her face. Instead,
I look out across the small lake in front of us, and I see the faintest of
rainbows hanging in the air beyond it.

I wait for her to respond, but she doesn't. Out of the corner of my eye, I
watch her reach timidly for her own hot dog, and she takes a small bite out
of it. Oh great, we're going to avoid each other like hell for the rest of
the week now.

It's always happens like this. A lot of people seem to think we're involved
with each other even though we're not. The men smirk at me conspiratorially
or enviously, making lewd remarks which completely offend or shock Scully.
Women want her to "spill" about the intimate details of our supposed
relationship, and their prying always makes me uncomfortable and I close
myself up to her. Embarrassed, we tiptoe around each other, trying to be
professional, and don't communicate. Not until one or the other of us gets
thrown back into mortal danger.

We've done this too many times for it to be considered anything but
routine.

Heaving a shuddery sigh, I take another large bite, and chew morosely.
Another near-flawless day, as always, ruined at the end by reality and the
truth. I could have pretended we were lovers today, a real couple, and not
just a couple of F.B.I. idiots working for the same government that is
working against us.

I get so caught up in my bitter thoughts that I don't hear her at first.
But her voice, though soft, is insistent, and I finally tune in to what
she's saying. "Mulder... sometimes, I don't want to bother with it either."

She turns her eyes on me, twin creations of a divine artist, a higher power
who knows a wealth of beauty humans can never hope to experience in their
lifetimes. Scully is so wonderful, so beautiful in every way, even in her
faults... and I am blessed with her. She is the only thing that makes me
believe in God, and perfection. And those eyes find me, just as I lose
myself in them.

Dropping her hot dog back into the container, her hand moves to touch mine,
and I drop my food too. She grasps my hand, entwining our fingers, and she
squeezes hard. I squeeze back, staring down at this tiny miracle that has
happened here today. I'm not entirely sure what this means, whether this
means we're going to stop bothering altogether.

Whether this means that, one day soon, we will no longer have to explain
that we're only partners, only friends, only two people who love each other
but can't.

Her eyes are staring straight ahead of her, focused on the glimmer of
colour I was watching earlier, the rainbow. There's a tiny smile playing
around her lips, a hint of joy mixed with sadness and regret. As I watch
her, I see a small child on the brink of adulthood, gathering strength and
courage for the final step into a great unknown. She is hopeful, afraid,
torn, eager, happy and sad all at once.

This child-woman is my Scully. And maybe one day, one day soon, she will be
more than just that to me.

I turn my eyes from her lovely face, and look out across the water instead.
"What's a rainbow, Scully?" I ask her, and tighten my hand around hers as
she thinks.

"It's... light, Mulder," she replies absentmindedly, cocking her head
slightly to study the rainbow better. "Sunlight spread out into its spectrum
of colours and diverted to the eye of the observer by water droplets. A
group of nearly circular arcs of colour all having a common centre."

A spot-on, scientific explanation. Smiling wryly, I shake my head, and ask
again, "No, Scully. What's a rainbow to you?"

"To me?" She frowns slightly, and glances at me, then back out over the
lake. "It's... one of the most spectacular light-shows in the world. It's...
hope, I guess. Beauty after the rain, light after the darkness, a reward
after the storm." She pauses, her eyes fading into childhood dreams. "And if
you're really really lucky, Mulder... you get to see it paint itself across
the sky."

I listen to her words, her entranced description of what she sees, and
can't help thinking that I've found something here today. I've spent my life
living on X-files, chasing dreams, fighting my own personal tempests...
losing myself in thunder and lightning and fear and darkness. Everyday, a
new storm rumbles awake inside me, following so quickly on the heels of the
one before it that they have all blurred into one long, perpetual maelstrom.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot that parks can exist, that rainbows still
appear after the rain, that there will come a lull in the storms one day. A
lull that will last just long enough for me to see the rainbows.

A lull just like today has been.

I've been running after rainbows all my life, trying to find the beauty
after the rain, the light after the darkness, a reward after the storm. Even
as I forgot, for a too long time, that such things still, that such things
do exist.

As she holds my hand tightly in hers, I take the small promise that has
passed between us today, and store it in my heart for safekeeping. For now,
we have found a small and transient haven from our respective storms, brief
moments of beauty and hope in lives otherwise marred by ugliness and
disappointment.

All I need is the memory of today, I realise, just one short day out of so
many long ones, scant minutes out of interminable years... and I think I'll
be able to remember Scully's rainbows forever.

======================================================

Author's End Notes : Oh, the trouble this fic has seen in coming to life!
<sigh> First of all, it took me two months to come up with the idea for
it... and *then* it refused to write itself for another long month. All I
can say is, RAR has taken quite a few forms, some good, some bad, some truly
abysmal -- either in my head, or on paper. It has survived this far only
because of those who beta read it and told me there was something worth
working on here.

Thank you, Toniann, for the insightful analysis. And thank you, Finn, for
the encouragement and pulling me up on those annoying little bits of grammar
we both hate! Scarlet, as always, thanks for being my glorified guinea pig.
It's a hard, thankless job, catering to an author's ego. You do it all too
well! :)

Feedback to shawne@shawnex.freeservers.com, please. And say hi to my
inferiority complex while you're at it... <vbg>

Added August 9, 1999

- Archived at Darkstryder's Fanfic Recommendation Site (stories of Aug 9).
- Archived at Xsessions
- Archived at The MSR Library