A Familiar Heart
Chapter Fourteen



True to his word, Mulder phoned at seven the next
morning.  Then at nine, and again at noon.  His
calls were so persistent, they couldn't fail to
arouse her mother's suspicion, and it was over
late afternoon baking that Maggie put her
motherly curiosity to work.

"Did Mr. Mulder find his glasses?"  Maggie looked
over her shoulder at Dana, who was up to her
elbows in flour at the kitchen table.

Scully smiled, taking out her frustration at
Mulder's absence on the pile of dough, punching
it vehemently.  "Yes.  They were in the bag with
his toothbrush and razor."

"What a forgetful young man," her mother
remarked, turning back to her cookies, seemingly
satisfied with Scully's explanation for the phone
calls.

Forgetful?  Scully was glad her mother had looked
away once more, as she felt her face get hot.
Mulder remembered every moment of their tryst
last night; she could hear it in the tone of his
voice over the line.  The phone calls had been
brief, but filled with husky promises of
everything he was going to do to her once they
were alone again.  He described the way he was
going to touch her in vague double entendres,
cloaked in descriptions of the merits of good
furniture.  He was smart as a whip, realizing
without having to be told that it was quite
likely her parents' neighbors were listening in
on the party line.

"I'm thinking of buying a new couch for my
cabin," he'd murmured last time.  "The thing is -
should I go with soft, buttery leather?  Or
sturdy, long-lasting corduroy?  The first is more
comfortable, but kind of... slippery, you know? 
The second could be kind of harsh on the skin,
but should withstand any kind of, uh, punishment?
By the way - you didn't happen to see my dogtags
around there anywhere, did you?"

Laughing, she'd replied, "I'm hanging up now,
Mulder."

Now that she thought about it, they'd made no
plans to see each other until the Rehearsal
Supper, and that was tomorrow night.  Maybe a bit
of time apart was needed, she had to admit.  It
was all moving so fast, to a point that thrilled
her as well as frightened her a bit.  After the
wedding, who knew where they'd end up?  He was
stationed in San Diego, as far as she knew.  And
she was stuck in San Francisco.  Not that great
of a divide, but there, nonetheless.  She had a
feeling her whole life was about to change once
again, and it scared her more than facing down
the Japanese.

The ringing of the phone startled her, even
though she'd become quite accustomed to it by
now.  Wiping her hands on the dishtowel, she
ignored her mother's quizzical glance and went to
answer it.

"Yes, Mulder."

"Dana?"

"Bill?"  Damn.  This was not how she wanted to
greet her brother after last seeing him stony-
faced in Honolulu.  He never did come see her in
San Francisco, either, though she knew he'd been
through once or twice in the last six months. 
"Merry Christmas."

He paused over the line, then said, "Same to you,
Dana.  How's it going?"

"Fine."  Her mother peeked around the entrance to
the kitchen, and Scully waved her over.  "Here's
Mom."  Covering the receiver, she handed to her
mother, who gave her a disappointed whisper.

"Talk to him, Dana."

"When he gets here," she whispered back, going
back to the kitchen over her mother's hello to
her eldest son.

Bill was an ass.  No other way to put it, she
decided.  He had all of her father's stoicism and
none of his compassion.  Cold and almost
emotionless, he'd been unable to deal with her
recovery like Charlie had.  The military was the
military, in his mind.  Suck it up and move on to
the next battle.  It didn't matter that she was
female; a soldier should not cower from fear and
nightmares.  Her father and mother had been most
supportive, as well as they could, anyway.  Her
father had been granted a couple of days' leave
to be with her in Hawaii, and her mother had
spent time with her in San Francisco.  But Bill? 
He'd turned tail and run the first time she'd had
a seizure, disgust written plainly on his face. 
His wife Tara had come to see her a few times
with the kids, but it was more of the same. 
Bill's wife had to be strong, too.

And God only knew what choice words he'd have to
say about Mulder.  She was not looking forward to
that.

"They won't be here until the day of the
wedding," her mother said, coming back into the
kitchen.  "Snowed in."

Scully couldn't help the relief she felt, and it
showed on her face.

"He's not all that bad, sweetie," her mother
murmured.  "He just doesn't know how to be any
other way.  You're not known for your embracing
ways, either, you know."

She knew she had some of those same aloof
qualities, but since meeting Mulder, her calm
facade had taken quite a beating.  He wasn't one
for keeping his emotions hidden, and he wouldn't
let her hide behind a false mask of control,
either.  Just another way her life had been
turned upside down.

The corner of her mouth turned up at the ringing
of the telephone.  Upside down?  More like inside
out and front-to-back.  She rather liked it.

This time, she didn't take any chances.  "Hello?"

"Scully, it's me."

"What now?  Your hair brush?"

"I can't find my dogtags."

She lowered her voice to a whisper.  "You used
that one already."

"Seriously, I can't find 'em."  He sighed, and she
pictured him licking his lips.  Hoo-boy.  "I
think they're in your *living room* somewhere?" 
The slight emphasis on the location made her
heart jump to her throat.  "They... uh, the chain
sometimes catches on... uh, stuff."

A flash of him pulling off his sweater and
undershirt last night made her groan.  

"Yeah," he said, their shared memory sending a
jolt of electricity over the line.  His voice
scratchy, he added,  "Do me a favor and go check,
would you?"

"Hang on."  She dropped the receiver to the small
table with nerveless fingers, wincing at its loud
contact with the wooden top.  Hurrying, she
rounded the corner of the living room door,
skidding to a stop at the sight of her father,
who sat reading the afternoon paper.  At her
noise, his head popped up, slight confusion
creasing his brow.

"Starbuck?  What's up?"

"Uh... nothing, Dad," she hedged, her eyes
searching the carpet for the telltale, shiny
metal.  She'd forgotten he'd come home early
today.  He was the quiet sort, content to sit and
read with his pipe and slippers.  Speaking of - 

"Damn," she muttered, under her breath.  There
they were, half hidden under the sole of his left
slipper.  Not totally obvious, but shining like a
beacon in the light from the lamp.  Their
presence could be explained in an innocuous way,
but then again - the chain normally hung around
Mulder's neck.  His *clothed* neck and chest. 
Why would he have any reason to disrobe?  In her
parents' living room, of all places.

"What did you say?"

"Ham," she replied with a smile.  "Would you like
ham for dinner?"  Wringing her hands, she walked
slowly forward.

"I thought we were having leftover roast beef,
Starbuck."  Folding the newspaper in his lap, he
sat straighter.  "Are you sure you're okay,
Starbuck?  You look queasy."

"I'm fine, Dad.  Just a bit hot from the
kitchen." And from the prospect of discovery,
just a slide of his foot away.

"Bill?"

Scully jumped at her mother's voice behind her. 
Together, she and her father looked up at her
mother, who stood in the door.

"We need some more logs for the fireplace, dear."
She turned to leave without waiting for an
answer.

Scully's dad grimaced, raising his paper again. 
"Get Charlie to do it.  Where is that boy,
anyway?"

"He's at Ellen's," Scully supplied, eager to get
her dad up out of that chair.

Her father sighed, finally curling up out of the
chair and depositing newspaper and glasses on the
lamp table.  "Young fool," he murmured, then,
looking at his daughter, he amended, "Ellen's a
nice girl, Dana - I didn't mean anything by
that."

"I know, Dad," she smiled, reaching up to give
him a kiss.  "Love does strange things to people,
don't you think?"

He smiled in return, giving her a wink.  "Makes
'em queasy, too," he replied, heading for the
front door.  "Tell Mr. Mulder I said hello,
Starbuck."

Had he seen the dogtags?  Scully gulped, assuring
herself that he hadn't.  Though he was as astute
as her mother, sensing there was something
between her and Mulder, he was more likely the
recipient of an earful of speculation, courtesy
of that same meddling, well-meaning mom.  She
shouldn't be surprised; just because they were in
their late fifties didn't mean they still loved
as though they were younger and recognized the
same in their children.  She shuddered at the
mental picture of her parents doing what she'd
done with Mulder last night, shaking it off. 
That was *not* what she wanted to be thinking of
- not now, not ever.

Picking up the dogtags, she scrambled back to the
telephone.  "Got 'em."

Mulder laughed with relief on the other end of
the line.  "Trouble?"

"Dad was practically sitting on them."

"Ouch."  He allowed a moment of silence, then
said, "I really need those, you know."

Longing made his voice husky, and she felt a
similar rush thread through her reply.  "Then
come over.  Dinner will be in another hour or
so."

"So I can have your Dad and Charlie frowning at
me from across the table?  I don't think so."

"Dad would not frown at you.  He likes you."

"But you can't deny I'm on Charlie's shit list at
the moment."

A stifled gasp bled over the line, followed by a
click.  Scully laughed.  "I think you just
offended Mrs. Bowman with your language."

"Good.  Wonder who else I can get rid of if I say
-"

"Mulder," she warned, knowing something worse was
on the horizon.

He chuckled, then said softly, "Have dinner with
me, Scully.  Somewhere more private.  My treat."

"Chicken."

"Beautiful."  He was way past the point of
furniture analogies; then again, so was she. 
Hell on the neighbors.  Seemed everyone who
counted approved of their match, so they might as
well let the cat out of the bag, big time.

"Handsome."

His breath hitched, and she sensed he was a
moment away from saying something really
meaningful.  But he backed off with a laugh. 
"Short stuff."

"Bean pole."

"Meet me somewhere... Red."

Red.  God, the nickname still had the power to
move her.  It was high time she told him the rest
of the story - the rescue from Los Banos.  He
would probably think she was nuts, but she wanted
him to know why she'd been so startled back at
the cabin.  It hadn't been him, she knew that
now.  But it went a long way to explaining her
frame of mind just a few short days ago.

There was also something she wanted to give him
besides the truth; she wanted him to know she was
ready to give herself to him in soul as well as
body.  This was the perfect opportunity, before
they were sunk knee-deep in wedding celebrations. 
The calm before the storm, so to speak.

"Uncle Mike's at seven?"

A short huff of breath, then, "That's not exactly
the privacy I had in mind, Scully."

"Too bad.  That's what you're going to get,
sailor."

"But -"

"I have a plan, Mulder.  Trust me."  The
Rehearsal Supper could prove to be a sticking
point, should her Uncle Mike spill the beans
about their previous dinner there.  What had she
been thinking when she suggested that a couple of
days ago?  No, she'd thought Mulder would do just
as he had - leave.  No worries after that.  Now,
it seemed some pre-party reparations to their
story was in order.

"As long as none of your cousins beat me up."

"They'll have to get past me first, okay?"

"Oh, that makes me feel a whole lot better."

She smiled at the sarcasm.  "It should.  I used
to kick their asses regularly."

Another gasp and click made Mulder bellow with
laughter over the line.  "Who was that?"

"My guess is, Mrs. Kennedy.  See - I know what
I'm doing."

His laughter faded and he purred, "I hope you do,
Scully.  Because I'm a tenacious bastard - I
never let go once I latch on."

Silence reigned for a few seconds as she held her
breath, her happiness at his soft statement
filling her chest with warmth.

"Just tell her you'll meet her already, boy!"

The elderly female voice, laced with a hint of a
brogue, made Scully gasp this time.  "Mrs.
O'Malley?"  Her face, unseen to anyone on the
line, still flushed with embarrassment.

"Aye, and you should latch on, too, girl.  Take
it from me - the lads are headin' up the aisle
right and left.  Just look at yer brother!"

Mulder was obviously rolling with mirth at the
other end, if his snorts and guffaws were any
indication.  Scully was speechless, and she
wished he would say something before she put an
end to their mutual embarrassment by slamming
down the phone.  He did, much to her relief,
clearing his throat before saying, "Mrs.
O'Malley?"

"Yes, son?" the old lady murmured, pleasure in
her voice at the way he addressed her with subtle
warmth.

"I really hate to put a damper on your afternoon
eavesdropping, but would you kindly fuck off?"

She expected a tirade like no other; Mrs.
O'Malley was not the sort to hold her temper. 
Instead, the woman said, "Son, I've heard worse
on the docks in Dublin.  You'll have to do better
than that."

"What if I told you I'd like to take Dana and -"

"Mulder!" Scully found her voice at last, just as
her nosy neighbor hung up with a snort of
laughter.

"What?"  He sounded as though he'd done nothing
wrong.  Truth was, she herself was tired of all
the poking into their business as well.

"Uncle Mike's, Mulder.  Seven o'clock.  And no
cursing, either."

"Spoilsport.  I can't stand nosy people, Scully. 
You know your relatives will be hovering like
vultures."

"Then I'll cuss 'em out, okay?"

"My hero."  She could picture his smile fade into
a slow burn.  "I can't wait to see you, Scully."

"I miss you, too," she answered, before bidding
him goodbye.


**********


Dinner was enlightening, to say the least.

She now knew he was thirty-three years old, as of
October.  She pulled from him his first puppy's
name, his favorite color, and the remembrance of
his first kiss - at the age of seven, behind the
garage with his second cousin Emily.  He was
experimenting only - he never liked Emily, he
told her.  Too much of a tattletale.  In other
words, he got a spanking that day.  Didn't stop
him from kissing again, he told her with a wink.

He now knew she'd broken a leg when she was
twelve, courtesy of a fall from a tree.  He knew
she liked her coffee with cream and sugar, and
her hamburger with ketchup and pickles.  She was
dainty in everything except her laugh - when it
came, it startled him.  So broad and fun-loving,
showing a mouth full of teeth and crinkling the
corners of her eyes.  He loved it all.

He loved her.

"See... if Uncle Mike happens to say something
about us having dinner here together, no one will
know it wasn't tonight.  Got it?"

"Smart," he said, giving her a smile.  "I like
the way you think, Scully."

She looked like a Christmas present, wrapped in
green wool, her red hair tamed into a sleek bob. 
Her face, this time not half hidden by a hat, was
warm and pink, her lips almost cranberry red and
so tempting to him that he kept biting his own to
keep from leaning over and chewing on hers.  She
smiled, she laughed, her eyes were twin blue
stars that hypnotized him.  He do could nothing
but stare and do his best to follow the train of
conversation.

"I told you before - I *do* have a brain," she
remarked, sipping at her after-dinner coffee, her
little finger crooked at the end.  Yep.  Dainty. 
He wondered if that finger tasted as good as the
rest of her.  Her gaze swept the room, his rapt
attention to her pinky going unnoticed. "Looks
like Uncle Mike gave us the best table in the
house this time."

Mulder looked around, feeling all eyes upon them
as he replied softly, "Yeah.  Close to the dance
floor, away from the kitchen... and right smack
in the middle of the room.  One more curious look
thrown our way, Scully, and I'm standing on this
table to declare my intentions."

Blue mischief danced beneath coquettish lashes. 
"And what would those be?"

To nibble on that pinky, he thought.  To do what
I wanted to last night, and bury myself in you so
deep I may never come up for air.  To marry you,
no matter what you say.  All this and more
clamored for release on his tongue; it would be
so easy to tell the world at this moment she was
his.  But their playfulness of the day was a
beginning once more, and he knew she was more
comfortable with banter than talk of commitment
at this stage.

"I don't think I can go into detail in this
crowd, Scully.  Something tells me I wouldn't
make it out with my gorgeous face intact."

She laughed, eyeing the swarm of redheads doling
out ale among the customers.  "I told you I'd
protect you."

"My guardian angel?"

Her smile faded, and he knew instantly he'd said
the wrong thing.  Uh-oh.  Scully dropped her gaze
to her purse, surreptitiously reaching in.  Hand
fisted, she extended it across the table.  "Here
you go, sailor," she murmured, nodding.

Mulder opened his palm beneath her fist, feeling
the metal of his dogtags fall into his hand. 
Before she could snatch her own hand away, he
curled his fingers up, holding fast, the cool
chain caught between them.  The easy atmosphere
they'd enjoyed all night had changed to something
far more serious in an instant.

"Why do I get the feeling I just got my class
ring back?" he quipped with a guarded smile, his
heart pounding with fear.  "You going with
someone else to the prom, Scully?"  Instead of
stupid phone calls, he should have camped out in
her living room all day, Charlie be damned.

At that, she relaxed a bit, chuckling nervously. 
"No... it's just that I'm about to declare my
*own* intentions, and it scares the hell out of
me."

His shoulders sagged with relief, but his reply
was still shaky.  "Declare away."  Maybe, if he
was lucky, he'd find *himself* carted off to the
minister tonight.

"Mulder, do you remember how I thought I knew you
back at the cabin?"

At the time, he was sure she was one of Chang's
operatives, bent on killing him.  He never gave
her cryptic comment much thought after he found
out who she really was, but now it resounded in
his brain.

<It's you.>

"Yeah," he said, keeping her hand in a tight
grip.  "I know better now."

"The reason I said that..."

"Scully, you don't have to explain."

"No, I do.  It's all part of my declaration."

She was firm, and he relented, squeezing her
hand.  "Go ahead."

"You were familiar to me, Mulder.  I was sure I'd
seen you before.  But then again, at the time I'd
thought I'd seen you, you were like some sort of
angel... swooping down from the sky to save me."

POW camp.  Angels from the sky.  Manila.

The connection began to take form in his mind. 
Along with it, a trickle of dread pooled in his
chest.  He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this,
but he had to ask.  "You were in Los Banos,
weren't you?"  Don't say yes, Scully.  Please
don't.

She nodded, a light sheen of tears glistening in
her eyes.  "And I thought you'd been the one...
the one who died saving me that day.  He looked
like you."  She rushed ahead before he could
speak again.  "But I know now *you* are my angel,
Mulder.  My savior.  Not some ghost I barely
spoke to."

"Scully..." he whispered, unable to look at her
any longer.  He pulled his hand from hers,
dragging the chain with him.  The cheap silver
tags hit the table top, and a glimmer of gold
caught his eye.

It had all been too good to be true.  Her giving
herself to him, him thinking of marriage and
kids... *everything*.  He should have known
better than to let himself want it so badly.

"It's all I have of value," she said, "and I want
you to have it.  My class ring, so to speak.  I
don't want to run away from you any longer,
Mulder."

Her cross.  Gleaming on the chain with such
brilliance it took his breath away.  He didn't
want to take the happiness from her face, but he
knew his next words would do just that.

"Scully, my brother died at Los Banos."

She was still for a moment, sitting up straight,
shock making her pale.  "What?"

"Sam.  He was only one of two who died that day."

"No.  That can't be true."

"It is.  Scully, he looked like me, he had a
voice like mine."  Though it hurt him to say it,
he went on, the details spilling from him.  "He
was a paratrooper with the 11th Airborne.  He was
supposed to be shipped home after that mission." 
A wan smile cracked his face.  "I've spoken to a
buddy of his, some guy named Franklin.  He said
Sam was hoping to make it home for spring
training.  He wanted to try out for the Yankees."

Scully closed her eyes and swallowed, looking as
if she was about to lose her supper.  Grabbing
her purse and coat, she slid from her chair. 
"I... I have to go, Mulder."

All he wanted to do was grab her and make her
stay.  Instead, he sat there, his body shaking
with shock of his own.  "I know."

They said no goodbyes, made no further plans.  He
waited a full five minutes before paying the bill
and walking to his hotel room, the chain still
fisted in his hand.  He didn't know what else to
do.


End Chapter Fourteen