A Mature Indiscretion by Mish mish_rose@yahoo.com Classification: S Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Travelers Keyword: M/S ust, ringfic Summary: Yes, another ringfic. Hopefully, just a bit different. Set sometime in season six. Distribution: Yes to Gossamer. All others, just let me know where, okay? Disclaimer: The X-Files and the characters used here are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. I don't own them. So sue me. Wait - please don't, I'm poor! Dedicated to Mom and Dad - October 8, 1949. Many thanks to Alicia K. for the beta and Michelle Beck for the yummy pic of DD and for being such an understanding buddy! Author's notes at end. A Mature Indiscretion You know, I really *hate* bourbon and Coke. I realize this as I bring the glass to my lips. My *third* glass of bourbon and Coke. I can't even get drunk with something I would find halfway palatable. This was one of Ahab's preferred poisons; when I walked into this bar, his voice resonated in my mind. "Starbuck? Be a good girl and get me a bourbon and Coke." Dad wasn't a big drinker; for that matter, neither am I. But on those rare days when his world wasn't in tip top shape, he would come home, uncurl his stiff spine in his easy chair, and let his mind wander under the influence of bourbon and Coke. What can I say? I've always been my father's daughter. Perfect world, stiff spine, and now - preferred poison. My always accurate Timex tells me that I've been here for forty-five minutes. Happy hour is in full swing; I've been hit on by more suits in less than an hour than I've ever had the misfortune to endure before. If I have to listen to one more balding, wannabe executive spout off about his glorious E*trade manipulations, I may have to just pull out my Sig and end it all. But I can't do that until Mulder gets here. I know he's coming. By now he's tried my office, the ladies' restroom on every floor, and Skinner's office. The female employees now think he's a pervert and Kimberly is positive he's a lunatic. It didn't occur to him to try my cell phone until he got out to the parking garage and saw my car still sitting there. Oh yes, I'll bet it pissed him off royally when all he got was the typical, "The cellular customer you are trying to reach...." That's when it dawned on him I was at Casey's. Give the man a gold star. Or gold ring, as the case may be. Janet, or Janice, whatever her name is, is idly perusing me from her perch behind the bar. She's seen Mulder and me here together, and probably Mulder alone, but never me alone. Every ten minutes, she approaches to ask if I want another. The curiosity is eating her up. Shit, here she comes again. "You know, you keep sitting here getting drunk -" Duh... yeah. "And it's no wonder the men in this place won't leave you alone. You're wearing a sign that shouts 'looking for trouble'. That's not good, honey." I raise my eyes from the ice cubes floating in my glass, piercing her with my best 'fuck off' look. Before I can say a word, she looks over my shoulder. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. "Uh - oh, trouble just walked in." Jesus, she never moves that fast when you want something to drink. He smells like the cold outside. "This seat taken?" His voice is frost bitten. "No. But I'm warning you - I plan on getting very drunk before the evening's through. Then I plan on making a very big scene when they try to toss me out of here." The last words are tempered by a slight curve of my lips. "I'll take my chances," Mulder replies, motioning to the waitress and pulling out the stool. His words nip at me from the vicinity of my left shoulder. "Besides, you know how I like to make a scene, Scully. I *live* for making scenes. And witnessing your scene? Well, the word 'nirvana' seems inadequate." Before the waitress can open her mouth, he gives her a curt, "Cuervo Gold. And another...." "Bourbon and coke." "Bourbon and coke for the lady." His voice is warmer now that his worry is dissipating. "You left without your coat, so I brought it with me." So he went back down to the basement for my coat. That's why it took him forty-five minutes. I must be slipping. After depositing my coat on the back of my stool, he folds his lanky form into the stool just vacated by my last suitor and lays his hands palm flat on the bar, his wrists extending beyond the sleeves of his coat."Your wallet is in the pocket, Scully. Figured you may be needing it." Damn him. He's always one step ahead of me. "Thanks." Good thing he brought it, too. My sense of balance would not hold up to scrubbing the floor. Hey - I could always have asked Mr. E*trade over there to cover me. Nah. Then I'd be obliged... Oh, yeah. Forgot Mulder was here. I think he's waiting for me to speak. I really don't know what to say. Where's a good icebreaker when you need it? It would take a big ship to break this glacier that has the potential to sink the Titanic. I search my numb brain for something, anything to say. Looking at Mulder's gangly bare arms brings the not-so-perfect opening line to mind. "You look like Alfalfa from the Little Rascals," I tell him, downing the last of my drink in one swallow. Then the inward cringe makes me tense in the typical two-second delay of the almost drunk. God dammit, girl, *think* before you speak. You sound like... an idiot. He has the grace to smile, pinning me with narrowed eyes. "Oh, I do, do I? Just how much have you had, Scully?" I hate when sober people look at you with that indulgent know-it-all smirk. I bristle at his condescending tone. My tongue may be loosened by the liquor, but at least I hadn't compared him to Froggie. "Mulder, I've only been here for about forty-five minutes." Exactly forty-five minutes since I'd walked in on Mulder holding the past in the palm of his hand. The office is the last place I would have expected to find it. Of course, it makes a weird kind of sense. Our lives flow in concentric circles from that dingy basement. Maybe we could one day be entombed there; non-lovers preserved upright in our respective chairs, my face a frozen mask of disbelief and his - well, pouting, naturally. My fantasy takes a weird turn when I picture Skinner sealing the basement door, chanting "Fidelity, bravery, integrity" over and over again. Oh, that's one creepy thought. Although he does look damn good in the flowing robes of a high priest.... Skinner dissolves into the meddlesome features of the waitress. Good, maybe now we can get down to some serious mind sweeping. She ignores me and flashes Mulder a brilliant smile. "Here you go," she says, taking her own sweet time about putting the drinks on the bar. "Thanks, Janice," Mulder says. So it's Janice. Gotta remember that. "Anytime, Spooky," she purrs. Spooky? Just how often does he come in here, anyway? "Not as often as you think," Mulder mumbles to me. Okay, so the nickname fits, I concede, yet again. Janice sets our drinks down in front of us and tries really hard to look like she isn't eavesdropping. I fix her with a menacing stare and she moves further down, idly wiping the bar with a brownish rag. Well, wonders never cease - it worked. Maybe we can enjoy some privacy now. I pick up my glass and wave it under Mulder's nose, all the while glaring at the nosey rosy from the corner of my eye. "This is only my third. At least *I'm* diluting my alcohol, *Spoo - kee*." "Not much, it looks like." I'm about to tell him to go jump in the lake when his somber eyes meet mine and he raises his shot glass. "What shall we drink to?" I raise my glass to his until the rims meet in a slow kiss. Guess it's showtime. "How 'bout to 'youthful indiscretions'?" Mulder rubs the lip of his shot glass against mine, watching the beaded cold sweat of my glass wet his. "Sounds good to me." I wish I could jump into the murky green of his eyes and drown. But I can't. That would be too easy. I brush away my unruly hair with an impatient hand. My ears are beginning to burn, a sure sign that the alcohol in my bloodstream is doing its job. It doesn't help matters any that Mulder's gaze seems to pinpoint every inch of my face with flaming darts. With a wave of his finger he asks for another, then another. The minutes slide by as we silently dull our senses, neither having the desire to speak. Mulder sighs at last, fishing in his coat pocket for the bone of contention. Shit. I was almost too drunk to care. Mulder hesitates, his jaw working with the effort to speak. The shiny object he's rubbing between his thumb and forefinger needs no introduction, no explanation. We both know what it is. What it represents. "So... wanna talk about it?" he ventures softly, placing the ring almost reverently on the teakwood bar next to my left hand. I stare at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. "What is there to say, Mulder?" "Scully?" He waits for a response, anything but my stony rejection of him. "Please talk to me, Scully. I want to understand what you're feeling now." A surge of adrenaline counteracts the alcohol in an instant. "Oh really, Mulder?" I hiss. "Well, embarrassment, for starters. How about anger? *Plenty* of anger." He remains stoic in the face of my whispered tirade. "Then there's guilt," I continue. "Oh, I've got guilt by the truck load." "Guilt?" He makes a move to touch my arm, but I shy away. "For what, Scully?" "For being such a fool. Such an ignorant fool." Dammit, now I'm starting to cry. I tamp down the tears with a single cough. I've got to say it. He needs to hear it. I turn on the stool to face him, the familiar determination back in place. "You want to hear a story, Mulder?" Mulder swings his legs around until our knees touch, opening himself to me in response to my flinging the doors wide. "Sure, Scully. Let's hear it." His hand slides into mine. I take a deep breath. "Once upon a time, Mulder, there was a seventeen- year-old girl who had everything. A nice home, loving family - looking forward to her freshman year at college. She was a brainy type, not too well-liked by the boys... well, except for one in particular." I look down at our clasped hands. "The only problem was, he was a troublemaker. In every sense of the word. And he liked it that way... he liked being different." The words tumble out of me until I realize I'm speaking of myself in third person. Distancing, once again. Karen Kosseff would have a few choice words to say about this. Mulder picks up on it instantly, his eyes darkening with sadness. "Scully -." I bring my eyes back to Mulder's, my words lapping over his. "And this girl - well, young woman, actually - she... *I* became tired of being perfect, of being the golden child of the family." My mouth is cottony. "I fell for him. *Hard.*" "Scully, you don't have to -" Mulder groans. "I'm almost finished, Mulder. Let me finish." He nods, swallowing back the rest of his protest. I lick my lips and entwine my other hand with his. Mulder squeezes my fingers lightly, urging me to get it over with. "Well, to make a long story short," I rush on, "my father caught up with us after twenty-four hours and six hundred miles. By that time, I'd realized what a huge mistake it was to run off with this boy, and I wanted nothing more than to go home. My father, the good man that he was, took me home and never once raised his voice in anger over my little 'indiscretion'." Almost done, almost done. "The marriage was annulled a few months later." God, the remembrance and regret make my chest ache. "I could see how much he was hurt by this, but he never once gave me an unkind word. Just lots of loving support." My father was a saint. Unlike me, who ran off with the first male that showed interest in me. "I thought I'd put it behind me, moved on. Until I saw the ring again." I hadn't seen it since I'd moved from Alexandria to Georgetown. How it ended up in my desk drawer - well, maybe I wanted him to find it. A Freudian slip, so to speak. I pull my hands from his and turn away, my eyes closing at the sight of the ring, its gleam mocking me. It was a helluva Freudian slip. "Dammit, Mulder, I thought I'd lost the fucking thing." ********** I know how painful it is for Scully to dredge up the past, but I can't help but feel relieved that she'd offered some sort of explanation. I also know that the brief story is all I'm going to get from her. She's amazing, I tell myself for the millionth time. She'd caught me snooping into her desk drawer, and, aside from the little dig about anger a few moments ago, had decided to let it slide. I'm not about to let myself off that easily. "Scully, it's no excuse, but I was just looking for the key to -" "That's okay, Mulder," she interrupts me. "I trust you." She actually smiles, a tremulous shadow, but a smile nonetheless. Suddenly, she shoves her glass away, her nose wrinkling with distaste, her skin losing a bit of color. "I think I've had enough." I lay a tentative hand on her shoulder. "You okay, Scully?" "I'm... fine, Mulder. Really, I am." She brushes her right hand over mine, her fingers warm and damp. "I feel good, actually. I just told you something I thought I'd never tell anyone." She chuckles. "Kind of like confession, you know?" "Scully, if you start calling me Father Mulder, I'll shoot you." With her wistful smile, silence descends upon us once again. I feel the growing rapport slowly disintegrate with a touch of sadness. I don't want the evening to end, even though it's been difficult. The fact that Scully is willing to share a part of her past means a lot to me. I want to reciprocate, but I don't quite know how. I sigh at the fear bubbling up from my chest. Should I tell her now? Is she ready to hear it? Quit being such a God damned wuss. I reach into my coat pocket once again, placing a bigger version of the plain gold band next to the dainty one still on the bar. Her back stiffens slightly. She doesn't say anything, just motions once again to the waitress. "Two coffees, please," she requests in a soft voice. Thank God. I thought I'd inspired another drinking binge. Janice nods and uncomfortably reaches over the rings to retrieve our half-empty glasses, eyeing the jewelry with barely disguised curiosity. She probably thinks she's witnessing the beginning of the end, like some bad soap opera. Maybe, maybe not. Scully has yet to comment. The rings sit between us, reflecting the cheap bar lighting with almost holiday cheer. My hand scrubs my tired eyes; I can't bear looking at them any longer. When I open them again, my ring is enjoying the caress of Scully's fingers. She holds it up with clinical precision, angling it just so, noting the absence of an inscription. She takes a swift breath as if to speak, then closes her mouth, pondering her next words. Finally, when I can stand her scrutiny no longer, she speaks, the cool precision of her words surprising me. "It's duller than when I last saw it." To say I'm shocked is an understatement. "Scully... what... I mean, when -" "I've known since New Mexico, Mulder," she says, recalling my disappearance and near-death nearly four years ago. "I was going through your desk and found it." She quirks an eyebrow. "Sorry." She's known practically since the beginning. Did it mean so little to her? Wasn't she even curious? Apparently not. "Why didn't you say anything?" She's prevented from immediately answering by the arrival of our coffee. I wait with bated breath while Scully adds creamer to hers and slowly creates a caramel colored sanity fix. She raises the cup to her lips, her reply breathed over the strong brew. "I always thought you would tell me when you were ready, Mulder." She closes her eyes against the steam from the cup and takes a small sip. I snap my jaw shut and hastily gulp my own coffee before offering, "Wanna hear about it?" It's the least I can do after her revelation. Not that I'm too enthused at the impending conversation. Scully sets down her cup and faces me at last, her now cool and dry fingers sliding into mine. "Only if you want to talk about it, Mulder." Our right hands join and I turn to meet her gaze with a renewed courage. "I do." Scully's eyes glaze over at my ardent expression. "So do I." My heart feels like it will burst. I make several attempts to speak, not really knowing where to start. Scully gives me a small smile and makes a closer fist of our hands. "It's okay, Mulder. Just take it slow, one word at a time." Finally, one last deep breath later, the words pour from me. "Well, I can't say that I had the luxury of 'youthful indiscretion', Scully. I was twenty- eight and should have known better. I met her while I was in VCU. Right before I found the X- files." "Mulder, if you tell me you were married to Diana, so help me...." "No! No... Scully, it wasn't Diana," I quickly reassure her. "She was a lawyer. We met at a friend's wedding. She was... everything I wasn't. Beautiful, charming, worldly." I drop my gaze to our hands. "We got married a month later. Six months later, she packed up and left. Not that I really wanted to stop her." I lose my voice to the slow tightening of my throat. Scully urges me on softly, "What happened?" A quick gulp of my coffee recreates my voice. "We were too different, Scully. She wanted stability, a home and family. I wanted the truth. Oh, don't get me wrong. She was smart, painfully so. So intelligent that I came off sounding like an ass when I'd start spouting off my wild theories. At first, she gave me the benefit of the doubt, but things rapidly changed after I underwent regression hypnosis." I don't have to explain any further. Scully says nothing, just waits for me to continue. I try to quickly wrap up this sorry chapter in my life. "Needless to say, she wasn't too thrilled with me after that. Having a husband whose sister was abducted by aliens tends to kill any chance of social acceptance." I hastily add, "It wasn't all bad, though, Scully. For a short time, I had someone to love me. And she loved me, I really believe she did. More than I loved her, I realized after she left me." "Mulder -" Scully begins. "I let you finish, Scully," I remind her. "Let me do the same, okay?" She knows I have to do this; the memories are painful, but cathartic. I chance a look at her. My best friend, my partner, and now - my confessor. I used to think my world revolved around Samantha. Now I know Samantha is my moon, wavering and inconstant. Scully has become my sun. Fiery and everlasting, even in the face of my personal wars and famine. The warmth of her glow nourishes me until I'm the strongest, tallest, tree in the forest. It's rather disquieting to realize how much I've come to depend on her. At the same time, it's intoxicating. My head swims with the enlightenment blossoming in my mind. I can stand only so much of her light before I must turn away from it, releasing her hand to play with the rings. They are almost exactly alike, twin bands of gold. My fingers roll them around in my palm until Scully's ring drops into mine. It's a perfect fit. "I wasn't ready, Scully. She was, but I wasn't. So I guess we weren't meant to be. She's remarried now, happy. And I'm... well, you know what I am." I chuckle wryly. "I must not be all bad. You're still with me." Please say you're still with me, Scully. She wraps her hand around mine, enclosing the rings in my palm. "You'd better believe it, Mulder. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, mister." That familiar emotion wells up inside me - the one I now feel in Scully's presence almost daily. It has crept up on me slowly in the years we've spent together; it's nothing like the headrush I'd felt as a younger man that resulted in one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I wasn't scared then. This... feeling... it *terrifies* me. I have to tell her, tell her now while I have the chance. "Scully... Scully, I... there's something else I want to tell you." The words, weak at first, gather strength as they move past my lips. "You have to know that I -" "Mulder, stop," she whispers, the fingers of her free hand silencing my vow. "I think we've had enough confessions tonight, don't you?" I can see the apprehension on her face, and though I want to get it all out in the open, I know she's... vulnerable, for lack of a better word. So I allow the moment to pass. There will be a time for more truths; a time to explore different paths. Instead of blurting out the words that will change our lives forever, I settle on something guaranteed to lighten the mood. "Mmmm, Scully," I murmur, breaking away from her and giving her a grin. "I was just going to say that I used to smoke, too." I wait for the scowl and the accompanying lecture. I get neither. "Oh, really?" Scully asks, her eyebrow arching, her eyes telling me she wants to jump on this bandwagon. "Well, Mulder, I do believe I'm one up on you." She stands and fishes a few bills out of her wallet, placing them on the bar. I do the same before helping Scully on with her coat. "How's that, Scully?" "I still do," she replies. "Smoke, that is." She flashes me a wicked grin before calmly striding to the door, ignoring the admiring glances of the happy hour businessman crowd, a picture of regal elegance. I pick my jaw up from the floor and quickly catch up with her, holding open the door. "What?" I can't tell if she's telling the truth or just playing around with me. A quick scan of her face in the glow of Casey's neon sign says it all. "Oh, not much, Mulder," she replies smoothly. "One cigarette every now and then. Just another of my 'youthful indiscretions' I can't seem to shake." She looks the street over for taxicabs, her teeth starting to chatter in the chilly night air. Scully smokes? Wow. So my sun isn't perfect after all. I like it. I notice the pink bloom of her cheeks; from the cold or the alcohol, I don't know. I open my coat, and, stepping up behind her, enfold her small form in its warmth. After a startled moment or two, she melts into my body. I close my eyes and let the silk of her hair tickle my lips. "That's okay, Scully," I say. "We all have our little cravings. As long as you don't make a habit of it." "Oh, you mean like gambling or sex?" My heart accelerates. The combination of Scully in my arms and the word 'sex'... it's exhilarating, to say the least. I stifle the groan and tighten my hold on her. "If you crave sex, Scully, please let me know, okay?" I inject just the right amount of humor in the remark. She laughs, a musical sound that vibrates in our embrace. "Will do, Mulder. You'll be the first to know." Her laughter fades as she spies a taxi round the corner. Neither of us make an effort to flag it down, but the driver slows anyway, waiting for a sign. "Mulder?" Scully whispers, spooning herself closer to me under the glow of the single streetlamp above. "Yeah?" "Would you do it again?" I could joke away the moment with a crack about smoking. But I don't; I know what the question means. I infuse my answer with every ounce of feeling in me, breathing my fondest wish into her ear. "In a heartbeat." Three fervent, trembling words, they carry my heart. The next - my hopes and dreams. "You?" Her head turns until her cheek pillows my lips. "I already have." I have too, Scully. I always will, Scully. I do, Scully. While the first snowflakes fall upon us, she completes the turn, her arms sliding around my waist, her head resting upon my chest. My chin settles above her head, my wide grin threatening to turn to tears. "Thanks, Scully." "For what?" "For being here with me. For being my friend." For making me feel loved again. "Thank *you*, Mulder." I feel the warmth of her breath through my shirt. "For what? Pissing you off at every turn?" She lifts her head and the steam from our rhythmic breathing combines, the snow dotting her hair with what looks eerily like... nah, now I'm getting maudlin. "For being my only 'mature indiscretion.'" Oh yeah. The grains of rice keep showering us and I'm now certain that I *am* a sentimental fool. I feel like the judge just said, "You may now kiss the bride." Do I dare? The veil lifts from Scully's eyes. I think she'll kick me if I don't. So I do. She feints right, I take a left. We rebound in opposite directions. Scully gives me an exasperated snort when my nose clobbers hers. "Mulder?" Great, now she's pissed. The honeymoon's over before it's begun. "Yeah?" I can't stop staring at her mouth. "Right, Mulder." "My right?" "Just shut up." Her hands cup my cheeks and hold me still. Ah - leave it to Scully to solve the problem. My eyelids fall with the image of her lips zeroing in on mine. "You folks need a cab?" The shout comes from within the yellow vehicle now idling by the curb. "Shit," I swear when she drops her head to my chest once again. I lift my hand from her back and signal the driver to wait, the urge to flip him off barely in check. With a sigh of resignation, I lean into Scully. "You wanna take this one, Scully? I'll wait for the next one." "Mmmm, I'm so warmmm..." She snuggles into me. "Don' wanna move." She relaxes into my embrace, the combination of alcohol and relief from stress making her boneless in my arms. I address the cab driver over her head. "We'll catch the next one, thanks." The driver shakes his head at our stupidity, then leaves. Yeah, we could be nice and warm, on our way home by now. But why would we want to do that? Yet another mature indiscretion. We've mastered them, Scully and me. ********** Janice heaved a heavy sigh at her aching back as she cleaned the bar, moving the coffee cups into the tray underneath with a groan. Her shift had begun only two hours ago, and already she was tired. At least the couple that just left had been generous with her tip. It wasn't until she passed the damp rag over the bar that she caught the gleam of shiny metal. One ring sat within another, the circlets of gold embracing each other as if melded together. She gently picked them up, expecting the smaller ring to fall right out of the larger one. It didn't budge, not even when she put her thumb into it and gave it a pull. She knew who the jewelry belonged to, had seen them both here several times, sometimes together, sometimes apart. They'd left fifteen minutes or so ago, so she knew it was no use running outside in a futile effort to catch them. She wasn't sure they'd want them, anyway. Faint conversation about 'indiscretions' had told her all she needed to know. The rings held fast as they dropped into the cigar box under the bar. END Author's notes: I sincerely hope this little wrinkle in ringfic hasn't been done before. If it has, I'm sorry! I tried to read as much ringfic as I could before I posted this! This was a result of opening up the TV Guide a few weekends ago and grimacing at the episode airing on classic XF - "Travelers." One of the few I cannot bring myself to ever watch again. So I decided to fix things like *I* wanted. If you liked my (hopefully not too) sappy little fic, or think that Scully would *never* elope with someone and want to tell me about it... or even if you feel like me and want to barf when "Travelers" is on, let me know! mish_rose@yahoo.com Feedback is treasured always!