Author: Chad K. Tanaka E-mail: chadt@aloha.net Title: Arcadian Rings 1/2 Category: SR Spoilers: Post-"Arcadia." Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance, UST, ScullyAngst Archive: Anywhere, as long as my name, address and disclaimer remain with it. Summary: Scully wrestles with the aftermath of her undercover mission with Mulder at Arcadia. A Scully "ring" story. Disclaimer: Dana Scully and Fox Mulder are the property of Chris Carter, 20th Century Fox and 1013 Productions. The characters have been used without permission for purely non-profit entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. Arcadian Rings XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I stare at it - the ring. It's a one-carat platinum solitaire engagement ring with accompanying wedding band. Simple, yet elegant. Stylish, but classically so. And yet, for all the admiration I've lavished on it... It is not real. And I wonder if it will ever be. I first stared at it in wonder when Mulder slipped it over my finger just as we were leaving Bureau headquarters. It happened a few days ago, before the beginning of the Arcadia undercover case, our first X-File after our reassignment... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX FBI Basement X-Files Office February 24, 1999 "Scully," Mulder murmured with a glint in his eye. "Will you marry me?" I laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of the statement. The doofus actually got on one knee right in our basement office. On the surface, I was casual and amused, but inside, I was quivering like a schoolgirl on her first date. "Against my better judgement, Mulder," I retorted haughtily. "I guess I'll have to give in...for the job, of course." I returned the sparkle in his eye with one of my own. "Of course," was his reply. He stood and slipped the ring on. Despite my professional demeanor whenever I'm at work, I grinned at the rock on my finger like a woman... Like a woman in *love.* The ring was beautiful. And I told him so. Mulder was smiling like a fool too. But that doesn't surprise me. You'd have to be an idiot not to notice when Fox Mulder's got a soft spot for you. No, I'm not conceited or particularly vain, so forget that thought. I'm just being honest. Mulder likes me - a lot. And truth, be told, most of the time, I like him as well - a lot. Anyway, Mulder being Mulder, he goes and breaks my concentration while I was obsessing about the gravity of the situation. "Oh!" He exclaims. He turns to his desk and rummages around the box he got from the evidence section. All of our "props" for the undercover mission was at one time owned by criminals. How's that for irony? Mulder turns back, with a goofy smirk on his face. "Uh, it's not official till I put the wedding band on your finger too," he says brightly. "Oh," I say. I stick my hand out again. He slips the narrow silvery band on, right under the engagement ring. For a moment, the "moment" hits me again. Judging by my finger, I'm married. I let out a breath. I almost forgot how to breathe. "Scully?" Mulder lays a concerned hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, Mulder I'm -" "Fine," he interrupts. I give him a sheepish grin. He knows. I straighten up, ready to perform the deed on my platonic...very platonic partner. I lean around Mulder and peer into the box. I look up at him as he holds up his left hand. "Don't worry, Scully," he chides me. "I took care of it myself." He wiggles his ring finger. I am slightly touched that he knows me well enough to save me from the strange act of slipping the ring on *his* finger. I felt like thanking him for not subjecting me to that awkwardness. I can't fail to notice that his large, simple wedding band is in 14-karat yellow gold. "We don't match, Mulder," I say, looking at my platinum ring and then staring at his as if I suddenly turned into some sort of fashion critic. "Hey, so sue me," he shoots back. "When I managed to get that boulder for your finger, they wouldn't sign me over anything better for myself, so I had to settle for the 'cheap' basic gold band." He turned back, gathering the rest of our undercover items. In his own way, he really can be sweet sometimes. But it'll be a cold day in Hell before I tell him that. I wouldn't want to encourage dangerous behavior. I step up next to him, leaning slightly against his shoulder. "So do I have to change my name, Mulder?" I ask coyly. He looks at me like a new head sprouted up out of my shoulders. "I already went over the cover names with you...'Laura.'" "No, Mulder. I know *that.*" I smile at him. I have no idea where any of this is coming from. "I mean, if we *were* married, would I have to change my name?" I look at him significantly. Yeah, I know I'm teasing him. But the ring is making me giddy... and stupid, I guess. He is sweating now. I can see the nearly imperceptible sheen on his delectable upper lip. I smell the faint musky odor of his perspiration. I feel his heat. I'm loving this, but don't ask me why. "Um," he says. "Like what? I mean, like, uh, Dana Mulder?" Mulder looks like he tasted something bad as well. "Typical," I say firmly. I'm really cooking now. "In this day and age, many career women *don't* change their names." I cross my arms. "And if I did, the most you'd get out of me is a Dana Scully-Mulder." Surprisingly, this brings out an ear-to-ear grin on his face. He leans down, invading my personal space. "I really like that, Scully. I'll keep that in mind." His eyebrows wiggle and the familiar leer makes an appearance. This isn't going how I expected. But then again, I don't know what I was expecting. "Come on, Mrs. Scully-Mulder," he teases me. "We gotta get a move on." I resist the urge to hold his hand, like goofy-in-love newlyweds. I grab my supplies and equipment, Mulder lugs the prop box and we exit the office. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX The Falls at Arcadia 450 Autumn Terrace San Diego, California I was terrible to him, I realize that now. But what else was I supposed to do? Mulder was in heaven, and to be honest, there were a lot of times when I jealously envied the joy he found in make-believe. Aside from the gruesome realities of the case, and the awkwardness of the situation, I suppose there was a little bit of fun to be had "playing house," as Mulder so succinctly put it. Yeah, okay, I'll admit it. We *were* having fun. We were enjoying ourselves. We temporarily blurred the boundaries between fantasy and reality. We became Rob and Laura Petrie. And that's pronounced "Pee-tree." Like the dish. We were married. Well, at least that's what we tried to get across. We were undercover, remember? Mulder took to it immediately, reveling in such classics as "Woman! Get back in here and make me a sandwich," or "You didn't let me carry you over the threshold!" Oh, I would have loved to do either. But there was no way I was going to give into that temptation. Because despite what you'd think, I *can* and do resist my endearing partner's charms. I can't afford to do otherwise. Being undercover with Mulder doesn't necessarily mean being "undercover" in the bedroom sense, that is. I mean think about it: When you see co-workers who work closely together...get it on, so to speak, how do you see them afterwards? Don't the words "seedy" and "tawdry" pop into your head? Doesn't your professional opinion of them diminish somewhat? Yeah. That's why I can never, ever show Mulder how much I love him and want him. I would never be able to look at myself in the mirror again. I'm a professional. But sometimes, late at night, when I'm alone in bed...It's hard. Really hard. And during the time we spent in The Falls at Arcadia, whilst I stared at a large platinum wedding ring set on my finger, I found it even harder to resist him. It was only one night ago when he jumped on my bed, seductively rubbing the bedspread, beckoning me into his arms. I was so very glad I'd had the presence of mind to apply the facial mask that I rarely *ever* use, so as to create a barrier between Mulder's animal magnetism and my almost overpowering female needs. I know I wasn't beautiful by any measure when I walked out of the bathroom. I'm surprised I had the guts to actually let Mulder see me like that. But it was necessary. I had been resisting him all day. His innuendoes were driving me crazy. If it were not for the mask making me feel repulsive enough to stay away from him, I might have succumbed to his jokingly delivered invitations. Well, probably not. I have a well-developed sense of self-control, built up over the six years I've been keeping my hands to myself. Oh, but sometimes...If Mulder only knew. The next morning, I spied on him. He was sleeping on the downstairs couch, the television sitting on a cardboard box, silently displaying the morning news. I stood there in my pajamas, mask washed off, teeth brushed and hair styled. In the early light, he was adorable. His short hair shot out in all directions, giving him a mad scientist look. His mouth was hanging slightly open, a soft snore emanating from his ample, yet quirkily sexy nose. In this frozen moment of time, I really, truly wished I was married to Mulder. I could imagine a life as blissful as the one we were pretending to live. My heart physically ached for the fantasy. I'm in love with Mulder. And I'm pretty sure he loves me too. And if that was all that mattered in this crazy world, I wouldn't even hesitate to live with him in a place like this for real. I peered at the ring. It was beautiful. I studied the simple platinum band nestled under the engagement ring. The symbolism that wedding rings represent hit me then like a ton of bricks. It is a perfect circle, representing the endless love shared between two people. In that brief instant, the ring was made real. It belonged on my finger. It was no longer a prop owned by the evidence section of the Bureau. It represented the ideal, the fantasy that perhaps one day I could allow to come to fruition. Someday... "Hey, cut that out, Scully," Mulder mumbled. I jumped slightly, jolted out of my reverie. "Huh?" was all I could manage. Mulder had one eye open, the glimmer within the warm hazel of that eye caressed me. "I mean," he said with mirth in his voice, "You're creeping me out, just staring at me like that. What'd I do?" He sat up on the couch. He was clad in a pair of black silk boxers and a heather gray T-shirt. "Sorry, Mulder," I apologized. "I was thinking about something and I didn't realize I'd phased out while looking at you." I ran my palms down the front of my nightwear, trying to straighten them out. It was a lame excuse. But we'd been accepting lame excuses from each other for years. And not surprisingly, he let it go. We both got ready for the day, the moment passing us by. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX FBI Headquarters Washington, D.C. Eventually, the case that caused the ring to be on my finger came to a sudden and mysterious close. I had been locked in a closet, and Mulder claims to have seen a monster made out of landfill refuse and magic. All in all, a typical X-File. The day we got back, Mulder and I went up to Evidence and returned all the items we'd borrowed for the case. The pang of regret I'd felt when signing off on the ring was unexpected and unwelcome. But Mulder was my partner. We would probably never enjoy the thrill of being joined in such a fashion, and rightly so. Our lives wouldn't allow something like that. We both have important jobs to do, and a relationship with Mulder just couldn't factor into the equation of my life. Don't you agree? So it was a shock when the melancholy settled over me. I was silent all the way back to the basement office. Mulder cast surreptitious looks of concern my way. He knew something was bothering me, but realized that giving me some space was the best course of action. "Dinner?" he asked amiably. I could hear the hope in his voice, though. I sighed. I was way too vulnerable at the moment. "No, Mulder," I replied tiredly. "I'm sorry, but I think I'd like to go home and call it a day." His greenish-brown irises clouded over for an instant, but cleared quickly. "Sure, Scully," he said reassuringly. "I'll start on the report, okay?" He reached out and rubbed my shoulder tenderly. "The thrill *is* gone, huh?" he joked again. It didn't get a reaction the first time, and he wasn't going to get one from me now. But I did my best and gave him a hint of a smile. I had to leave. Now. I scooped up my coat and my briefcase. I turned to him and looked deeply into his eyes for a second. I could see the tumultuous storm of needs and desires being tossed this way and that inside him. I felt exactly the same way. "Goodnight, Mulder," I said quietly. "Goodnight, Mrs. Scully-Mulder," he replied with a sad smile. I returned it and turned away, quickly exiting the office for the sanctuary of home. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Several weeks passed after the Arcadia assignment. I was in the middle of some research for the case we were working on. Mulder was out in the field as usual, digging for whatever nuggets of information he could dredge up. The familiar worry about his physical well being took up its residence in the pit of my stomach. As I was typing up my report, an e-mail came in to my mailbox. I opened it up and was greeted by a pleasant surprise. Every year, like many other law enforcement agencies, the FBI auctions off evidence secured in raids and seizures. The FBI normally donates proceeds to charity. All in all, it is a good way to convert tainted material goods into something that benefits society. Regardless, this was an opportunity for me. I knew I was being foolish, but I'd developed an attachment to a certain piece of evidence in lockup and its pull could not be ignored. I had to have it. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX The day of the auction came up quickly. Unfortunately, it was scheduled to take place right in the middle of the workday. Mulder and I were on a case in the D.C. area, and he was ready to break for lunch. Before he could say anything, I bald-faced lied to him. "Mulder, can you find some lunch on your own today?" I said. When he nodded, I felt as though I had to explain. "I've got a doctor's appointment in half an hour and I forgot to mention it." Mulder seemed to tense. "You okay?" he asked lightly, but I could see the tension in the corners of his eyes and in the pinched set of his lips. "It's just a checkup, Mulder." I patted him on the bicep and turned away. "Can you drop me at my car?" I asked sweetly. "Yeah." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX FBI Auction Fairfax County, Virginia I showed up at the warehouse where they were holding the auction just as it was about to start. I looked at the program the woman at the entrance gave me. I scanned the lot number of the item in question. I knew the piece was up today, but I neglected to actually look up the starting price for such an item. My credit card was going to scream, but I was good for it. These days, I never spend much on myself anyway. I readied myself for battle. Time passed slowly as merchandise - from electronic equipment to artwork - were sold to the highest bidder. Every kind of item that had any value at all was being sold, including lots and lots of jewelry. Finally, the moment I'd waited for over the course of many long weeks was about to present itself. "Lot number 1121, women's diamond solitaire wedding ring set in platinum, size 5," the auctioneer droned. "The one-carat stone is a Brilliant cut, surrounded by six round diamonds totaling one-half carat. The color is rated at 'G,' which is near colorless, and the clarity is rated at 'IF,' or internally flawless. The center stone comes complete with documents of certification by the Gemological Institute of America." My heartrate quickened. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination, but a silence seemed to fall over the bidders, as if steeling themselves for the inevitable war. "Let us start the bidding at $8000," said the auctioneer. I really began to doubt my decision. I asked myself. "Do I hear $8,000?" I raised my paddle. "I have $8,000. Do I have $8,100?" A man in the front raised his paddle. "$8,100. Do I hear $8,200?" Another man in the corner with a cellular phone to his head raised his marker. "$8,200 do I hear-" I raised my hand. "$8,300. I now have $8,300. Do I have $8,400?" said the auctioneer. I closed my eyes. I felt completely ridiculous, but I began to pray silently. The man with the phone held up a sheet of paper towards the auctioneer. "We have a new bid of $9,000 for the ring," said the auctioneer. <$9,000?> My mouth went dry. I never realized what I was getting into. I'd never even considered what I'd do if I got myself into a bidding war. But somehow, I tried to convince myself that this had become a mission for me. It was a mission to recapture some of the wonder I felt during the Arcadia case, living with the only man I ever truly loved. I wanted the ring as a reminder of what I could have, if I only chose to take that chance. "We have $9,000 going once-" "9,500 dollars," I yelled out. My voice cracked uncharacteristically. My nerves were on their way to being completely shot. "$9,500 from number 731," the man at the podium said calmly. "Bidding appears to be rising at $500 increments, so do I have a bid for $10,000?" Now I was sweating. At this stage, I was going to max out my credit cards. If I had to go any further, I would be dipping into my savings. My confidence began to wilt like a dying flower baking in the burning sun. I held my breath. I clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking. "$10,000 to number 1013," said the auctioneer. I raised my head up in horror. No one else was bidding except the mysterious phone caller. And he or she had just raised the stakes to frightening heights. "Goddammit," I hissed. An elderly woman next to me turned with a shocked look on her face. She must have thought I was insane or incredibly rude, or maybe both. "Do I hear $10,500?" I heard the voice from afar. Maybe I *was* crazy. I raised the marker. My arms were numb. The paddle seemed to weigh a ton. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. "I have $10,500," the man said in a serene, modulated voice. I prayed. I knew it was terribly foolhardy to be acting this way, considering all the breaks I'd been given. I had cheated death so many times, how could I even think about asking for such an insignificant wish to be granted? Don't ask, because I really couldn't tell you. You're talking to the same woman who ran off to Philadelphia to meet a man who developed psychosis from a botched tattooing, and then went out and got a tainted tattoo herself. Oh, and did I mention that the woman *slept* with said psycho? And why did I do it? To rebel against Mulder. Rebelling against authority figures is a hobby of mine, which would be fine, except this authority figure is also the man I love. Really crazy, huh? Sometimes I wonder how I got out of medical school or made it into the FBI. It was then that I sobered up. What I have with Mulder is special. Whether or not I have that ring on my finger, we'll still have memories of those few days in that wonderful house, acting like a married couple out of a 50's sitcom. He'll still be at work tomorrow. And I'll still be married to him through my work, if not in a physical or romantic sense. I didn't need the ring. I never did. Still... "Do I have $11,000?" asked the man on the raised platform. Long pause. Did I dare to hope? I covered my face with a hand. I couldn't bear the tension. "$10,500 going once, going tw-" The man stopped, looking toward the left of the audience. "I have a bid of $11,000 from number 1013." That was it, I decided. This silly indulgence could go on no longer, my rational side told me. My emotional side threatened to burst out and throttle the rational side. "Is there a bid for $11,500?" crooned the now-irritating auctioneer. He was looking at me expectantly. With a good sense that I was relieved to discover I still had, I lowered my head. "$11,000 going once..." The auctioneer turned his gaze away from me. "...going twice...fair warning...*sold* for $11,000 to number 1013." The echoes of the gavel pounding seemed to resonate within me, signalling the close of another chapter in the book titled "Dana Scully Narrowly Avoids Disaster" I closed my eyes and tried to hold back the salty wetness threatening to surface. "You really wanted that ring, didn't you?" the elderly woman said softly. I could only nod slightly, afraid of looking at her in the eye and risk losing it in front of a complete stranger. "Well," the woman gave me a maternal pat on the arm. "Pieces of jewelry really have no meaning unless there is some kind of love or loving memories attached to it." I turned to look at the woman. My eyes narrowed slightly. But then, I realized she would have no idea about the true value of this ring. "I know," I said. I stood without another word and made my way out of the building, leaving the woman behind, probably to wonder about my mental stability and complete lack of manners. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX END "Arcadian Rings 1/2" Title: Arcadian Rings 2/2 Author: Chad Tanaka XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Enroute to Washington D.C. Eastbound on I-95 To say that I was feeling a little depressed afterward would be a bit of an understatement. I wouldn't expect anyone to understand. Jesus, I don't think I could explain it to myself. I, I feel like I failed somehow. Like losing the ring meant I'd lost any chance for Mulder and I to, to...well, you know. I realize that kind of thinking is ridiculous. I have only to reach out to the man to make it real. But I can't - not right now. My job means everything to me, and not even my love for Mulder will keep me from doing that job to the best of my ability. But having that ring, I would have been able to hold a little of that fantasy close to me, a physical manifestation of a distant dream. God. Have you noticed that I can be a little dramatic sometimes? Yeah, I can, can't I? We both are. We're a good match that way. I called Mulder from my car. I told him I was feeling a little under the weather. "What's the matter, Scully?" was his worried reply. Over the years, Mulder has developed a healthy sense of dread anytime I behave in a manner that deviates from a predictable pattern. "I think I'm coming down with a cold, Mulder, that's all," I tried to soothe him. "Why do you think I was at the doctor?" I asked. Mulder answered with a non-committal grunt. "Just...just take care of yourself, Scully," he said so quietly that I almost missed it. I bit my lip, my face turning red with shame over the lies I'd been feeding him all day. "I will, Mulder," I said with equal feeling. "I'll call you later." I pressed the "end" key on my phone. I decided to go home and soak for a long time in a hot, soothing bath. With a little bit of champagne or wine, maybe I'd be able to find that elusive perspective. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX FBI Basement X-Files Office My birthday was on February 23, the day before we left for the Arcadia case. I turned 35. Is that old? I don't know anymore. But I can tell you, I feel all of those 35 years. I've lived more than some people do in their lifetimes. As usual, Mulder forgot. It wasn't surprising. I never mentioned it - I never do. He remembered only once, a couple of years ago. I wonder if it had anything to do with the cancer. Mulder forgets his own birthday too, though I wonder how any man with an eidetic memory can forget such things as birthdays. I always get him a present. It's always a tie. This is to prevent him from venturing out in public wearing the ones that he likes. Showing up at a interview subject's door wearing a Marvin the Martian tie does not help with an investigation one bit, I can tell you from experience. Anyway, it is about a month past my 35th birthday. It is a Friday. Out of the blue at five in the afternoon, Mulder blurts out, "Hey, Scully. Wasn't February 23rd your birthday?" "Uh, huh." I had no idea where he was going with this. I drew my attention from my laptop and focused on him. Mulder fidgeted with a pencil. "Yeah, um...so, how about if I take you out to dinner, like a late birthday celebration?" he said nervously. My MulderRadar went up immediately. I crossed my arms and narrowed my gaze. "Why?" I asked suspiciously. His eyes darted every which way, but never in my direction. Something was definitely up. "Mulder?" I prompted. His eyes centered on mine at last. "Why do you want to take me out for my birthday *now?*" "Guilt," was his immediate reply. The speed of his statement verified the truth of his words, but I wanted to know exactly what he meant. Mulder seemed to sense my frustration, because he explained. "The day we left for California, Scully, I saw the card your mother sent you on your desk." He made a redundant gesture by pointing at my desk. I waited for more. "And then I realized, 'I missed Scully's birthday again.' But I *always* forget about it, don't I?" He asked. Mulder stood up and began pacing. He was silent, searching for the right words. I was fascinated. So I watched and listened. "I'm always forgetting your birthday, Scully. Why? As close as we are, why can't I remember to honor you and celebrate your birthday?" He turned that intense stare toward me, the one that makes me quake a little deep inside and makes me want to bolt out the door. I shrugged. "I don't know, Mulder," I cooed reassuringly. "But it doesn't matter to me, I know you don't do it to hurt me." I laid my pale hand over the rough, tanned one that he placed palm-down on my desk. "I didn't think you'd want me to make a big deal about your birthday during a case..." he offered lamely. "And once the case started heating up..." He gave me an apologetic smirk. I smiled for him serenely, closed my eyes slowly and shook my head. "Doesn't matter," I told him. "No. It does matter, Scully," he said. He leaned over until his mouth was hovering mere inches from my ear. "And I am going to make it up to you," he whispered. Mulder grabbed the hand that was over his. "Come on," he said firmly. I opened my eyes in shock, as he was pulling me towards the door. "Mulder," I whined. "Where are we going?" His only answer was to hand me my coat. "Later, Scully," he said breathlessly. "Right now, just trust me." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX The Reflecting Pool Washington D.C. At six in the evening, on a Friday night, we were back at the Reflecting Pool. Yes, the place where we met clandestinely when we were off the X-Files the first time. We hadn't been here in years, but it felt comfortable and evoked some feelings of nostalgia, I was surprised to admit. I wondered if that was what Mulder had in mind. I wouldn't have believed it at the time, but those days were much easier than the way things are now. Mulder sat me down on "our" bench. No one was around, as everyone in D.C. during the day wanted to get as far away from it as possible in their free time. To say that Mulder was being weird is like saying the sky is blue. But sometimes, that quirkiness makes him all the more sweet and lovable. This is one of those times. Mulder pulled out the large bag he picked up at a McDonald's drive-through on our way here. He handed me my Arch Deluxe, my fries, and a large coffee. He grabbed his Big Mac Extra Value meal and proceeded to unwrap the sandwich. Uh, huh. This was my 35th birthday celebration - some fast-food takeout on a park bench in the rapidly cooling Washington evening. And I absolutely *loved* it. For some reason, I felt happier than I've ever remembered being in a long time. Maybe it *is* the simple things in life that mean the most to us. I unwrapped my sandwich and looked at Mulder shyly. "Happy Birthday, Scully," Mulder said with a bright, genuine grin. He bit into the Big Mac. I couldn't help but return the smile. "Thank you, Mulder," was all I could say. I began to eat as well. The meal was enjoyable. I had fun wiping the secret sauce that squirted along the corner of Mulder's mouth. Images of me licking it right off his face popped into my head, but I settled for using a napkin instead. Mulder treated me to his latest theory about our current case, until I berated him about ruining my birthday with shop talk. He laughed at me, but agreed to keep our conversations personal. So, instead, Mulder graced me with his burping skills. The large Coke he ordered helped out a great deal. After his last, particularly loud expulsion, I laughed so hard, I thought I was going to be sick. I don't know why it was so funny, I'd never been particularly enamored of such adolescent humor, but tonight, coming from my partner, the whole thing seemed incredibly hilarious. After a while, the food was gone. Then, Mulder pulled out his surprise. He extracted a small baked apple pie dessert from the bottom of the bag. He removed it from the box, laid it down on a napkin and then reached into his jacket pocket. Quickly, he pulled out a single blue candle and shoved it into the middle of the dessert. He lit it with a tiny lighter he had in his hand. And he began to sing, which was a little unfortunate, because Mulder can't sing. "Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, Dear Scully, Happy Birthday to you..." He raised the pie up to my eye level. He was peering at me over the dessert with such depths of feeling that I experienced an almost overpowering urge to cry. I could never allow that. So, I took a deep breath and thanked him. "Thanks, Mulder...for everything." He smiled at me, but said nothing. I leaned over and blew out the candle. I made my wish. Still grinning, Mulder pulled out the candle and split the pie in two. He handed me one end, and he took the other, shoving the whole piece into his mouth. He looked like a chipmunk with too many acorns in its mouth and it was all I could do not to choke on my half of the dessert. Mulder wiped his hands on a napkin while I finished up. He stared out at the calm swirls of the pool itself. "I might have asked you this before Scully," he said quietly, still looking out at the water. The setting sun was throwing sparkles off the water and illuminated the area around us. "Do you have regrets in your life? If you could change it all, would you?" he asked. I didn't hesitate. "Everyone has regrets, Mulder. And thinking about changing your past won't do you a bit of good. What's done is done. The present is the only way we can affect the outcome of our lives." Without thinking about it too much, I extended a warm hand and placed it tenderly on his neck. I stroked the nape and ran my fingers through the soft hair on the back of his head. He turned to me with a look of apprehension mixed with another unreadable emotion. "Scully," he said. "I...I have a birthday present for you." He began to reach into his jacket pocket. "Mulder," I chided him. "This was more than enough. You didn't have to get me anything," I said. And I meant it. Tonight was certain to be a source of fond memories to keep me warm on cold, lonely evenings alone. Slowly he pulled out a tiny box. Jewelry? This was most unusual. Working partners do *not* buy jewelry for each other, especially mixed gender partners. I ran my trembling fingers over the light gray velvet box. "M-Mulder," I stammered. "You really shouldn't have." I felt the sting of tears forming. And this time, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to stop it. "I know I shouldn't have, Scully," he said, with pride in his voice. "But you deserve what's in there." I took the small box from him and opened it before I could lose my nerve. I really, honestly thought I would faint dead away. I could see stars, and they weren't in the sky. My heart threatened to burst from my chest. I couldn't restrain the tiny cry that emanated from my throat in utter shock. My platinum diamond solitaire sparkled at me from within the confines of the box. I was speechless. "M-Mul...H-How?" was all that came out from my malfunctioning mouth. "I bought it for you at the Bureau auction," he said simply. "You were number 1013!!!" I cried without thinking. I immediately threw my hand over my mouth in horror. I was the reason Mulder spent eleven grand on a ring for his ungrateful, psycho bitch of a partner. "Oh, God, Mulder. I'm *so* sorry." I felt terrible. I wasn't going to fight it if he stormed away from me right at that moment, never to speak to me again. But to my complete and utter surprise, Mulder began to laugh. "Hello, number 731," he said, stifling a fit of giggles. The absurdity of the situation hit me then, and I began to laugh as well. "Oh, Mulder." I said as I pulled out the ring. "It's beautiful, but why? Why did you do it?" I asked him. He leaned over and laid his palm on my moist cheek. He swept his thumb across, wiping away the happy tears falling down my face. "You couldn't hide it from me, Scully. During the case, you kept on looking at the ring. The joy I saw on your face...I'd never seen that before. I knew then that the ring had to stay on your finger. I regretted it as much as you did when we had to return it." Mulder inched closer and planted a chaste kiss on my forehead. He pulled away slightly. "When the auction came up, I knew I had to bid on the ring. I was just about to tell you I had a meeting with one of my 'sources,' when you gave me that perfect doctor's appointment alibi." He smirked. "I assume that appointment was faked?" I nodded, as a sheepish grin split my tear-stained features. "Man, I sweating bullets, Scully. For a moment there, I thought you had it," he said teasingly. I reached for his hand. "Oh, Mulder. How are you going to afford this?" I asked worriedly. He grasped my hand tighter into his. "I've gotta hit some banks tomorrow, so if you can drive the getaway car..." I dropped his hand and stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Mulder laughed out loud again. "You're so gullible, Scully," he said, the familiar twinkle in his eye glittering with the last rays of the sun. "I've got a little put away here and there, so don't worry yourself over it," he said reassuringly. Mulder inched forward until his lips were almost touching my ear. He murmured, "You're worth every penny of that money." He said it with such conviction, I almost believed it was true. "Thank you," I told him. I meant it with all of my being. I loved him so much at that moment, I started to cry again. Mulder looked down and plucked the ring and the wedding band from my grip. He slipped both onto my finger and then looked up at me with those soulful eyes, full of unspoken adoration. "I love you, Scully," he said. I smiled. "I love you too, Mulder." He hugged me. I embraced him tightly in return. I ran my fingers through his silky hair, he rubbed my back with his soothing hands. I welcomed his comforting warmth enveloping me and making me feel incredibly safe. I felt loved. We stayed like that for a while, then Mulder pulled away. We looked into each other's eyes, much like that night in the hallway. I half feared more bee interference, but then Mulder's soft, supple lips touched mine for the first time. And I was lost. Lost in a sea of lights and sounds and tastes and textures... I was lost in Mulder's love. He pulled away again, and my lips felt cold, missing the heat of his kiss. I was not looking at him. My eyes were shut tight in ecstasy. "Scully, will you marry me?" was what I heard. I couldn't believe it. I opened my eyes. Mulder was looking at me, awaiting an answer. It was an answer I had no problem giving him any longer. "Yes," I said. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Dana Scully's Apartment Annapolis, Maryland So I stand here, staring at the ring. It is an elegant thing, with clean lines and an exquisite diamond mounted on top of it. When I look deeply into the clear, sparkling stone, I imagine I can see him there. My husband. No, we never did have that legal ceremony. No one knows about us, not my mother, nor A.D. Skinner. Not even the Smoking Man is aware. No one knows, because there isn't anything to tell. We haven't consummated our relationship, aside from stolen kisses from time to time. We both know we have a job to do, and getting neck-deep in an intimate affair, or getting married for that matter, would jeopardize the very foundation of our partnership. That perspective I'd been looking for all those weeks ago? I found it. I'm in love with Mulder, and he's in love with me. Nothing's going to change that. We will go through life with the possibility that sometime in the future, when all is revealed, when all is safe again, or when we both just simply *can't* do it anymore, then we can start anew. Until then, I only have this ring to help me remember and cherish what we're fighting for. The ring isn't real, not really, anyway. It isn't real in any legal sense. Right now, it's just a piece of jewelry. But it's real to me, and real to Mulder. So I slip the ring and matching band back into the velvet box and return it to the combination safe in my bedroom closet, awaiting the day when I can wear it in the light, to revel in its deeper meaning. No, in many senses, the ring isn't real. But now, I don't think I have to worry that it will always stay that way. - END - FADE TO BLACK XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I thought that "Arcadia" was a delightful, yet somehow unfulfilling episode. Scully's apparent aloofness toward Mulder was a bit disturbing. This piece was started to flesh out the possible reasons for it. I also tried to come up with Scully's feelings about the big "M," or marriage. Since she realized she wanted children so much, I wondered if she'd ever considered marriage as well. I'm no aficionado of wedding rings - hell, I can't even remember the grade of my wife's ring! If my terminology or pricing of the ring isn't realistic, then I apologize in advance. Also, I have *no* idea if the FBI holds auctions for seized evidence like the DEA or local police departments do. I just thought it was a good plot device! As always, I'm on my knees, hands clasped in supplication, begging for feedback. It's what we fanfic writers live on, so *please* feed the animals! Drop me a line at chadt@aloha.net to let me know if you think a 30-year-old married man can write from the viewpoint of a 35-year-old beautiful, sexy, *female* forensic pathologist/FBI Special Agent. Heaven knows I'd never be able to chase down suspects in *those* heels... -- Chad K. Tanaka chadt@aloha.net