A Familiar Heart
Chapter Fifteen



The phone didn't ring once that day.  It seemed as
if the damp, cold rain had even put an end to
holiday greetings for the houses on her mother's
party line.  Christmas was over, and she felt as
if she'd never smile again.

She missed him.  His smile, his laugh, the way he
had of making the most innocent remarks simmer
with sensuality.  The memory of the way she'd left
him last night was burned on her brain; the utter
sadness in his eyes when he realized the man she
spoke of in Los Banos had been his brother.  Much
beloved, by the halting, proud way he'd told her
of Sam's baseball aspirations.  But he was dead,
felled by a bullet meant for her.

Guilt washed over her, as fresh as if she still
held her hand over the hole in Sam's chest. 
Mulder's brother would still be alive, if not for
her.  He'd taken the bullet meant for her, and had
perished for it.  She was as much to blame for his
death as if she'd pulled the trigger herself.  It
was no wonder Mulder stayed away today.

Would he show up for the rehearsal?  Or stay for
the wedding?  God, she hoped so.  For Charlie's
sake, she hoped Mulder fulfilled his obligation as
best man.  She'd almost run him off once, and she
didn't think Charlie would forgive her if she
managed to do so again, albeit not on purpose. 
She hadn't known.  God, she hadn't known!

Standing by the Christmas tree, she looked out the
living room window, sniffling quietly.  Her
parents had gone ahead to the church, and she was
waiting for Charlie to come down so they could
take his car together and pick up Ellen for the
rehearsal.  He knew she was supposed to be
spending the night with Ellen, and she was to take
his car while he rode home with her mother and
father after the party.  Little did they know
she'd planned to drive it nowhere; it would have
stayed parked behind her Uncle Mike's while she
spent the night with Mulder.  It was to have been
so easy - Ellen would have been told she was going
back to her house, her parents would assume she
was at Ellen's.  Perfect.

Except she knew now there would be no night spent
in Mulder's arms.  No making love on his very big
bed, no whispering words of trust and commitment,
no making plans for the future.  His silence of
today had told her just one thing: he wanted
nothing more to do with her.

"Dana, are you ready?"

Though she tried to avoid Charlie's eyes by
quickly turning away, she wasn't successful.

"Hey," he said softly, gripping her by the arms to
turn her back.  "What's with the tears?"

She swiped at her cheeks, trying her best to
smile.  "I just realized I'm about to be all
alone," she whispered, hoping the half-truth was
enough to satisfy him.  "I'm losing my best
friend."

Charlie enfolded her in a warm embrace.  "You are
not," he admonished softly.  "I'll always be here
for you, sprite.  Right here."

"Yeah, three thousand miles away."  It wasn't like
her to give in to melancholy, but she couldn't
help it.  Charlie was being assigned to
Washington, and here he'd stay.  The telephone was
a lifeline, but suddenly, she wanted more than a
voice.  She wanted physical closeness as well. 
Her world was rocked to its foundations, with no
end to her sadness in sight.

"You could always transfer here, you know," he
pointed out.  "Though I guess with Mulder in
California, too, you wouldn't want -"

"Mulder has nothing to do with this," she stated
flatly, pulling away from Charlie.  She walked to
the couch, retrieving her coat.

"Uh - oh," she heard behind her.  "Trouble in
paradise?"

Putting on a calm she didn't feel, she turned,
shrugging into her coat.  Charlie stepped forward,
concern in his gaze as he helped her with the
sleeves.  "Charlie, Mulder and I are just
friends," she said, knowing that sounded so trite,
given the way he'd seen them night before last.

"Just friends?  Sprite, I don't know anyone who's
'just friends' who gets naked on the couch."  The
wince in his voice was palpable.  "I'm sorry,
Dana.  That was crude."

"But true." She looked up at her brother, giving
him a small smile, knowing she had to say
something to ease his mind.  It wasn't good to be
with Mulder one day and totally apart from him the
next; bad move.  Charlie didn't need to worry
about anything other than his wedding day.  She'd
tell Mulder so when she saw him at the church;
they'd have to at least speak to one another for
the next couple of days, act like friends.  Any
other course would cause suspicion.  Then, when
all was said and done, he could go his way and she
would go hers.  Maybe a move to Washington
wouldn't be a bad idea, after all.

"Look, Charlie, Mulder and I have decided to take
things slow.  Your wedding is what's most
important right now, and we don't want to detract
from it, okay?"  Please believe me, she prayed. 
"What we did... it happened way too fast.  We both
agree that we need to take some time to get to
know one another."  Then, after a couple of months
in San Francisco, she could just tell Charlie
things didn't work out, and move back home.

Nice plan, she thought, ignoring Charlie's
questioning look as she moved to the front door. 
If only she didn't feel so lost without Mulder, it
would be wonderful.


**********


The priest moved them about like dolls, his heavy
Irish brogue demanding compliance.  Not that
Mulder felt like arguing at all; on the contrary,
every time Father Corkery pushed him together with
Scully, he took full advantage, brushing his arm
against hers, folding her hand in the crook of his
arm like a good little groomsman.

She was so pretty tonight it almost hurt to look
at her.  A slim silhouette in navy blue wool, her
tiny waist cinched tight by a matching belt, she
was covered from neck to knees, and made a very
demure picture, complete with white lace collar. 
Too bad he knew what every inch of her looked like
under that dress, and his fingers itched to undo
the buttons down the front one by one.

Her hair was pinned back, but there were a few
wisps that refused to be tamed, falling down to
caress her cheek.  Every few minutes, she brought
a hand up to brush them away, never once looking
at him, though she had to know he couldn't take
his eyes off her.  And he could not stop touching
her, taking sinful pleasure in doing so, all with
the permission of the priest.

But that sigh.  Damn it, that sigh he received
every time he touched her pierced him to his heart
like a stiletto.  He was sure the next time he
heard it, he'd bleed like a stuck pig.

It wasn't fair, God damn it.  He'd stayed away
today, though it was the hardest, longest day of
his miserable life.  Finding out she knew Sam had
opened his eyes, and not for the better.  If only
he'd known about her angel before he'd met her...

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," Father Corkery said,
breaking into his thoughts.  "The mass has ended,
the bride's been kissed - it's time to move out,
bride and groom first, then the best man and maid
of honor, then the parents.  Go, go!"

This time, when he met Scully at the front of the
alter, he practically latched on to her, his other
hand folding over hers on his arm like a vise.

"Slowly, children, slowly!" Father Corkery said.

Mulder slowed his steps, which were already at a
leisurely pace.  Scully huffed a bit, matching her
steps to his; he knew she wanted to get as far
away from him as possible, as fast as she could.

"Mulder?"

Her soft question surprised him, and he almost
stumbled.  "Yeah?" he whispered back.  Maybe she
wanted to talk, maybe all hope wasn't yet lost...

Staring straight ahead, Scully said softly, "You
*are* going to stay for the wedding, aren't you? 
Charlie would be disappointed if you didn't."

He looked away from her, clenching his jaw. 
Scully certainly had a soft spot for her
brother... hell, *anyone's* brother.  "I wouldn't
do that to him.  I'll be there."  Then I'm
catching the first train, plane or boat out of
town, he added silently.

"Good.  And Mulder?"

He didn't answer, not trusting himself to just
scream at her to stop being so damned cool.  She
continued, taking his silence for acceptance of
her words.

"We need to try to be civil to one another, okay? 
It would look very bad otherwise."

Considering that just the night before last,
they'd been naked on the couch, he snorted, seeing
how their aloof behavior toward one another could
rouse suspicion.  "Sure," he said snidely.  "Like
we're best friends, Scully."  From the corner of
his eye, he saw her face pale, and he let her go
to reach for his coat.  He didn't look at her as
he put it on, sensing her physical withdrawal by
the warmth that disappeared from his side.

"Mulder, you riding with us?"

At Charlie's question, he looked up from his
perusal of the church bulletins in the lobby.  He
tried to tamp down his discomfort, and he quickly
said, "I'll meet you guys there.  Um... I have to
go back to my room for something."

It was a lie, and he saw Scully turn away to don
her coat.  He knew she was avoiding his company. 
Pride prevented him from asking why, though he had
a pretty good idea.  It was probably the same
reason he could no longer bear to spend every
second in her presence.  Some things didn't have
to be said.

He'd make a short appearance at the party and then
beg off.  Spend the day tomorrow hounding Skinner
at the Pentagon for news of Chang, then the
wedding on New Year's Eve.  He wondered if there
was a midnight train headed west that night - the
sooner he left all this hurt behind, the better. 
For him and for her.

He'd tried, he really had.  All day long, he'd
told himself the conclusion he'd drawn couldn't be
right.  But then again, if it wasn't - if he'd
finally found true happiness with the right woman
- how the hell could he be so lucky?   He'd never
had anything so valuable, so beautiful, fall right
into his lap.  It wasn't this Mulder who'd been
smiled upon by the Gods all his life; Sam had
taken all that good fortune with him to his grave. 
Even in death, he'd nabbed the last, best prize.

As he walked out of the church, he heard Charlie
call his name.  His friend left his fiancee behind
with a murmur, catching up with Mulder halfway
down the block.  Mulder saw Scully and her parents
drive away in the opposite direction, and he
hunched over, scraping the sidewalk with the toe
of his shoe.  "What is it, Charlie?"  Impatience
laced his words; he wanted to be alone, to lick
his wounds back to semi-closure before braving the
party.

"What's up with you and Dana?"

Cut right to the chase, he thought.  "And how was
your day, Charlie?" he said, sarcasm breeding on
his tongue.  He wasn't up for explanations, and
besides, it wasn't any of Charlie's business.  He
turned, walking to the corner, one hand waving
down a cab.

A strong hand whipped him around.  "Don't give me
that, you son-of-a-bitch," Charlie snarled. 
"She's avoiding you like the plague.  What the
hell did you do to her?"

"Nothing!"  Mulder wrenched his arm from Charlie's
grasp.  "It's Dana who wants nothing to do with
me, in case you hadn't noticed!"  He hung his
head, knowing he'd said too much.  Scully had
probably not said a word to Charlie about Sam, and
he'd just blown the whole shebang with one angry,
hurt-filled statement.

"What the hell happened, Mulder?" Charlie was
softer of voice now, and Mulder looked up to find
his face tight with concern.  "Just yesterday, you
couldn't get enough of one another -"

"That was yesterday," Mulder interrupted, trying
again to flag down a cab, though it seemed like he
was stuck with Charlie on the corner for a while. 
He cursed inwardly, feeling he was seconds away
from losing his mind, again.  "A lot can happen in
a day."

"She told me you'd decided to take things slow,
but I could tell yesterday she was ready for
anything.  Anything, as long as it was with you,
Mulder."

Mulder closed his eyes, pain making him drag in a
ragged breath.  "I'm not the right one, Charlie,"
he muttered.  "She didn't know... and I didn't
either.  Not until last night."

"What do you mean - not the right one?  Jesus,
Mulder, you love her, don't you?  Tell me what I'm
thinking is wrong.  Tell me you didn't just use
her for a little holiday sport."

At that, Mulder brought his face up, his gaze
slashing into his friend with fury.  "Fuck you,
Charlie.  I wouldn't do that to her, for Christ's
sake!  You know I -" He broke off, his words of
love utterly useless at this point.  Number one,
he was telling the wrong Scully.  Number two, the
right Scully didn't want to hear them.

"Then tell me, damn it.  Tell me why you haven't
called once today.  Tell me why I found her crying
in the living room a little while ago.  Tell me
you're not going to leave as soon as you can..."

"She was crying because she got the wrong one." 
He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, giving
Charlie his profile, the cold biting into his
tense face.  It was probably going to snow later -
he'd have to remember that.  Snow, a good reason
for leaving early.  "She got the wrong one," he
said again, his heart turning to ice right there
on the street.

"The wrong one?  Mulder, are you feeling okay?"

Suddenly, he'd had enough.  Enough of people
looking down on him as second-rate, enough of his
friends treating him like an invalid, enough of
the prying of others and the pretending in front
of them he didn't need what everyone else needed.

"You know, I never begrudged him a God damned
thing."  He looked at Charlie, who stood there
bemused.  But Mulder spoke what was in his sad,
jealous heart, not the explanation Charlie wanted
to hear.  "He was my brother... the class
president, the baseball star, the war hero.  Good
at everything he did and loved by everyone,
including me. I never once coveted what he had. 
Until now.  Because you see, Charlie - she never
wanted me.  I was just the substitute, the guy who
happened to look like an angel."

He stepped off the curb, tired of waiting for
every fucking thing in his life, including
taxicabs.  "I'm no angel, never will be.  And she
knows it.  It just took me a little longer to
realize it, that's all." A sad smile graced his
face as he finished softly, "And I can't change a
damn thing.  I may have the look, but I don't have
the heart."

Dodging the cars on the street and Charlie's shout
of his name, he melted into the night.


**********


"So, you really think I'm doing okay so far?"

"You're doing fine," she whispered back, feeling
as if she were floating across the small dance
floor in his arms.  He really was a great dancer;
just one of his many good traits, she was glad to
discover.  Loyalty, humor, intelligence... and he
really cared for Melissa, a major plus.  "I think
Mom likes you."

"What about your dad?" Frohike asked nervously,
eyeing the older man who stood with crossed arms
on the edge of the crowd, pipe in his mouth.  "He
keeps watching me."

"Melvin, he's just a bit thrown by you," she said,
smiling.  "Once he sees how well you get along
with Melissa, it'll be fine."

"You think?"

"I'm sure."  She didn't say that it was probably
going to be a long while before her father *quit*
watching him.  Maybe even never.  Her dad was very
protective of his children; but once you had his
trust, you never lost it.  "Try talking to him,
Melvin.  See if you have anything in common.  Dad
loves golf, you know."

Frohike's face lit up with a smile.  "Besides
being a mean dancer, I play a pretty good round of
golf, myself."

"There you go."

"Can I cut in?"

For a second, Scully forgot to breathe, sure the
quiet question came from Mulder.  But it was
Charlie who stood with his hand on Melvin's
shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face.  Damn. 
He was up to something, and it was destined to
make her cry.  Again.  The whole evening so far
had taken a monstrous effort on her part to remain
unemotional.

First came the breakdown at the house, then the
rehearsal, where every time she touched Mulder she
practically purred with longing.  Even now, she
could still smell his cologne around her and feel
his hand take hers.  All she needed now was for
Charlie to stick his nose into it; her brother
knew something wasn't right, and he was determined
to get them back together.

As Melvin excused himself, she walked stiffly into
Charlie's arms, keeping her eyes downcast.

As expected, Charlie launched right into his
campaign.  "Mulder's here."

She stepped on his foot at the announcement. 
Murmuring an apology, she said, "That's nice,"
though her heart sped up and she scanned the room
covertly for the tall, handsome form in a black
suit.  The crowd had long since had dinner, and
had been dancing for an hour or more; she thought
he wasn't going to show.

"Dana..."

"Charlie, please," she whispered, tired of denying
there was a problem.  Not that she was going to
explain fully, but if she could get him to see how
much talking about it upset her, maybe he'd leave
it alone.  "Please don't do this."

"Aw, sprite." Charlie was truly upset now, his
mouth thinning with displeasure.  "If it's
anything I said or did, just hit me, okay?  But
don't let it come between the two of you."

Damn it, here they come, she thought.  Looking up
at her brother's blurry, contrite face, she said
brokenly, "It's nothing you did, Charlie.  It was
me.  All me.  And I don't know what I can do to
make it right.  I *can't* make it right.  It's
impossible to fix."

Once Mulder found out she was the coward who'd
distracted Sam into a bullet in the chest, he
wouldn't want anything more to do with her.  She
was so cowardly, she didn't even want to tell him,
wouldn't stand before him to watch him re-live his
brother's death all over again.  Charlie said it
had driven him over the edge.  She couldn't chance
making him slide into madness once again.

"Funny, but Mulder said basically the same thing
to me a little while ago.  Except I had the
distinct impression he was speaking of himself,
not you."

Blinking back her tears, she chuckled, mostly to
keep herself from bawling like a baby.  "He
would."  Mulder was so good, so willing to take
blame for something he could never, ever be
responsible for.  "Believe me, Charlie.  This
one's all mine."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with his brother,
would it?"

Charlie's dead-on guess slammed into her, making
her feet stumble to a stop.  Mouth open with
dismay, she stared up at her clueless brother. 
"Oh, Charlie.  Please don't say anymore."  I can't
stand it, she tacked on in her mind.  In a moment,
I'll break down and sob in the middle of the dance
floor.

"I have to, sprite," he said quietly. "Because I
can't stand to see either of you so miserable."

Scully dropped her chin, silent with sadness.  Her
whole chest ached now, and it hurt to breathe. 
She tried to wrench herself from Charlie's embrace
to seek the safety of the ladies' restroom, but he
was having none of that, holding on tight while he
kept on speaking.

"All I could get out of Mulder was some nonsense
about how Sam was a hero and he'd never been
jealous of him until now."

Her head snapped up.  "What?"  Mulder couldn't
think that she...

"He also said he looked like an angel, but he
didn't have the right heart, or some crap like
that."

Taking her hand from Charlie's, she pressed
trembling fingers to her lips, looking up at him
with eyes swimming with tears.  "Oh, Charlie," she
whispered brokenly.

"Shit," her brother muttered, reaching into his
pocket for a handkerchief.  He pressed it into her
hand, looking around at the dance floor at the
crowd of relatives and friends.  Most of them just
smiled, sure she was just being emotional over her
brother's marriage.  "I didn't mean to make you
cry."

She snorted into the fine linen and mumbled, "All
day long, I thought he blamed me.  That he
couldn't get past Los Banos."

"Los Banos?  What the hell does that have to do
with anything?  Quit crying, Dana.  Dad's on his
way over."

She spied her father's approach from the corner of
her eye.  "Charlie, you have to sidetrack him
while I find Mulder."

"What the hell am I supposed to tell him?"

"That I got something in my eye, what else?"  She
began to move away, but was stopped by Charlie's
firm grip.

"Don't you dare let him get away, sprite.  I'm not
gonna play the fucking fairy godmother again." He
released her, straightening his tie with a smile. 
"Bad for my image as a he-man."

She chuckled, reaching up on her toes to press a
kiss to his cheek.  "Thanks, Charlie.  I owe you
one."

"Or two."

"Or two, if you'll do me another favor?"

"Make it quick, sprite."

"Tell Ellen I'm not feeling well, and tell Mom and
Dad I'm spending the night at Ellen's.  But I'll
really be -"

Charlie groaned, lifting a hand to stop her. 
"Don't tell me.  As long as you don't do it in my
car, okay?"

She giggled, loving her brother more with every
second that passed.  "Well, I think the room has a
very nice bed."

"Argh!" he cried, grimacing.  "Just go, already!"

"Where is Mulder?"  Her father was almost upon
them, held up by Melvin Frohike, bless his kiss-
ass, Melissa-loving heart.

"Last I saw, the end of the bar.  Mighty close to
the door, sprite.  Better make tracks."

Again, she took the time for a kiss to Charlie's
cheek.  "I love you, Charlie."

"Get going," he mumbled with a sniffle, turning to
greet their father.

Seeing the press of well-wishers between her and
the bar, she made a quick decision.  She made more
than tracks on her way there... when they saw her
complete, albeit fake, collapse into tears, they
were more than happy to let her by.  She heard
murmurs of concern as she ran through the parting
of the sea of red hair.

"Poor darlin'.  She's gonna miss Charlie."

"Someone get her a drink of water."

"Fresh air, that's what she needs."

Hiding her grin, she made it to the end of the
bar.  Nope.  She didn't need fresh air.

She needed the man who was shrugging on his coat
to leave.  That long, cool drink of Mulder.

The not-so-perfect angel.


**********


"Private party, man!"

Mulder winced at Mike's shout, but he didn't pause
in donning his coat, nor did he look over his
shoulder at the entrance behind him.  "There a
problem, Mike?"

Mike swiped at the bar with a rag.  "No problem,
lad.  Just a customer peeking in.  Maybe I shoulda
put a sign out, eh?"  His smile faded as he looked
Mulder up and down.  "Where ya going, Mulder? 
Dana should be in the bar somewhere - let me get
Charlie over here.  We'll find her in a flash."

"That's okay, Mike," Mulder replied quickly.  "I'm
beat.  Gonna turn in early, I think."

Mike looked to his left, then back, his smile
returning.  "Too late for that, lad.  Looks like
the lady's ready to dance."

Mulder knew it was her before he even faced her;
his breath lodged in his throat and he wondered if
she was going to instruct Mike to toss him out on
his ear.

"Buy me a drink, sailor?"

Senseless, happy surprise threaded up his throat. 
He turned, taking in her damp face and hesitant
smile.  Before he could speak, she wiped her face
into dry composure and stepped forward, sitting in
his vacant stool.  Unable to stand her proximity
without snatching her up and hauling her off into
the night, Mulder moved slightly away as she
addressed the man behind the bar.  "Two whiskeys,
please, Uncle Mike."

He found his voice after her uncle poured two
stout drinks, leaning over her shoulder to reach
for his drink.  "Need courage, Scully?"

She pulled the other glass to her, saying softly,
"Maybe."

Before his glass touched his lips, he replied,
"Mind telling me why?"  More revelations to come? 
What was it this time - she'd had a secret affair
with his father?  Fallen in love with Frohike on
the dance floor a half hour ago?  Grimacing, he
chided himself for his ill feelings.  She couldn't
help what she felt, any more than he could.  Too
bad those feelings weren't directed at him, but at
a ghost.

She toyed with the amber liquid, swirling it as if
hypnotized by the little whirlpool it made.

"Because in a minute, I'm going to ask you for
your room key.  In five minutes, you're going to
nonchalantly make an exit, and join me in your
room.  In ten minutes, we're going to have a
little talk... well, I'm going to talk, you're
going to listen."  He knew he looked stupid with
his mouth wide open.  She wasn't serious, was she? 
"As a heart attack, Mulder," she said, reading his
dumbfounded expression.

"But Scully, we can't just..."  Make it all go
away, he finished silently.

"We can, and we will," she stated.  "Now, are you
man enough to work this out with me?"

He felt a slow grin emerge on his face and he
leaned in, shoving his glass and hers aside.  "I
don't need this, and neither do you."

"Why?"

He couldn't believe his good fortune; here she
was, willing to talk.  About what, he had no idea. 
And at this moment, he didn't care if she told him
she saw Sam every time she closed her eyes.  He
wanted her.  He could make her want him, and only
him.  With sex, with love, with whatever it would
take.  He wasn't about to spit in the face of the
gods who'd handed him this opportunity.

"Because in thirty minutes, after we've *both*
said some things that need to be said, we're gonna
put that big, comfy bed in my room to use.  And
we're both going to be sober when it happens, with
nothing between us.  Absolutely nothing.  Agreed?"

Looking up at him, she fastened her gaze on his
lips, her tongue darting out as if she could
already taste his kiss.  "Agreed."

She swivelled on the stool, facing him.  He felt a
small hand brush over his pants, and he sucked in
a quick breath.  "My keys are in my right coat
pocket, Scully.  Not in my zipper."

"Just checking," she said, lifting her eyebrow
with mock innocence.  Her hand shifted, and he
felt her hand wrap around his hotel key.  "See you
in five, sailor.  Don't be late."

He helped her put on her coat, then turned back to
the bar and downed both drinks.

Mike, who'd discreetly faded to the other end of
the bar, walked back to him with a grin.  "Want
another, Mulder?  You look like a man who's got
legs o'lead all of a sudden."

Mulder chuckled, nodding.  "Not lead, Mike.
Rubber, more like it.  Hand me the phone, would
you?"  He wanted to call the front desk at the
Belmont.  Champagne, flowers, food - the works. 
No way would they be leaving that room before
dawn, and he wanted her to want for nothing. 
Quickly, he dialed, wondering if he could order
bubble bath as well...

"Jesus!  It's a private party, for Christ's sake!" 
Mike practically screamed in his face.  "Good,
he's gone.  Can't have a Chinaman loitering
outside the window.  Ain't good for business."

Mulder's blood ran cold and he dropped the phone
from his ear.  "What did you say?"

"Damn Chinese fella.  He's been trying to get in
all night - just took one more look in the window
and then got in a car - hey!  Where ya going?"

But Mulder didn't hear him.  He was already out in
the street, stiff with panic.  He was imagining
things, right?  She was already in the hotel room. 
He took a step forward, then stopped, his shoe
scraping against a bump in the pavement.  Bending
down, he almost cried at the object in his palm.

He gripped the key so hard, it bruised his palm,
and he cried out into the night with anguish.

"Scully!"


End Chapter Fifteen