Calendar Girl: Tides
by Jori

In the last chapter of the Calendar Girl Series, Mulder discovers all the reasons to live this life.
NC-17

************

November 25, 1999
2:06 p.m.

"Fox, how are you?" Mrs. Scully asks, wrapping me in her arms and pulling me close. Scully is standing behind her mother, our coats over her arm. She smiles at me, looking far happier than she has in weeks.

"I'm doing better," I say, placing a kiss on her cheek before stepping back to let her see that I'm fine. She holds me at arm's length, checking me over thoroughly.

"You still look a little pale," she says, pulling me closer and placing a hand on my cheek. "Have you been sleeping?"

I always forget what it's like to have a mother until I come here. I have yet to hear from my own mom since this whole ordeal ended. I know what she did. I've seen the evidence. I just don't know why she did it. Perhaps I never will.

"I'm fine," I say, and she rolls her eyes a little before looking at Scully.

"Did she teach you that?" she asks, taking me by the arm and leading me to the living room.

"She's a good teacher," I say, letting the words glide off my tongue with a deliberate smoothness. Mrs. Scully laughs at all the implications I placed upon them.

Scully disappears down the hall, presumably dumping our coats somewhere. She returns with a toddler on her hip, a child who's holding on tight. The little girl has a mass of light brown curls that fights the strap of elastic and lace trying to hold it off of her face.

"Look at who I found playing with Grandma's jewelry," Scully says, hugging the little girl tight. The multitude of costume jewelry bracelets the girl has on her arm clink loudly as she hugs Scully back. I can tell immediately that she was not just playing with her grandmother's jewelry, but with her perfume as well.

The girl looks at me and smiles. The face is so familiar, but I try not to think of where I saw it last. It is out of a dream and that dream was a road not taken. She wiggles her tiny nose at me, fidgets her way out of Scully's arms and runs to her grandma.

"Oh, Jessica, you stink!" Mrs. Scully says, the girl giggling loudly.

"I stink pretty, Grandma!" she says, her voice not hiding her delight at being with Grandma.

"I'm going to take her and get her washed up. Charlie and Katie haven't gotten back with the boys yet. You two get comfortable. Fox, sit down before you fall down," Mrs. Scully dictates.

The air clears a few seconds after they leave and the room once again smells like cinnamon and pumpkin pie. It is nice to not have the world assaulting my senses and taking over my mind. There are so many things that can only be appreciated when separated out from the rest of the world around us.

Scully takes my hand and leads me to the living room before instructing me to sit down.

"You can't treat me like an invalid forever, Scully," I say softly as we settle down on the couch.

"Mulder . . ." she says, starting to protest. I silence her by placing my index finger over her lips.

"Scully . . ." I say, only removing my finger once I'm sure she's changed what she was going to say. She wets the corner of her mouth before continuing.

"I'm sorry. You're right. You are doing a lot better. It is just that . . . I . . . worry," she says, looking down at her hands folded neatly on her lap.

"And I worry, too," I say, placing my hands over hers.

How could I not worry? I worry every damn day that something is going to happen again. I am afraid to go to sleep. Then once I am asleep, I'm afraid to wake up . . . afraid that I will wake up and be trapped in some world without her.

"I know it isn't the first time you've been sick or injured . . . or even missing, but this time . . . this time was different," she says in a tone so hushed and low I can barely hear her.

"Because this time, everything meant more?" I ask, knowing exactly how she feels.

"They're right," she says, her voice cracking as tears come to her eyes. She's cried more in the last few weeks then I have ever seen her cry before. Then again, I've cried more than I ever thought any one person could.

"Right about what?" I ask, pulling her close to me. She doesn't hesitate and lets me wrap my arms around her. It is hard not to want to hold her constantly. If I could find someplace where we could disappear together and never let each other go, I would move there in an instant.

The first few days I was out of the hospital, I didn't see her. She was nowhere to be found. It took me a while to realize why. Everything that happened had so rocked her world and she was afraid to admit it to me. The only person's world that was rocked more and sent totally off axis was mine. And I needed her there no matter what.

"They are right about the fact that it changes everything. Love changes everything. Nothing will ever be the same," she says, her voice so filled with love that it melts me.

"No. Nothing ever will."

******************

"Hey, big sister!" Charlie says, grabbing Scully and holding her tight. "How long has it been?"

"Last Christmas, Charlie. Or the day after, to be exact. I thought we would be seeing you at Christmas again," Scully says, hugging her brother back.

"I ship out of Norfolk next week. Don't know how long this tour will be just yet," he says and I look at the woman who must be his wife. Her head drops down just as he says that. They came in with two red headed boys who must both be around seven or so. Plus they have the little girl. It must not be easy once he's gone.

He releases his sister from his bear hug and approaches me, offering his hand. "Well, Agent Mulder. Glad to see you are still with us. In more ways than one, I understand," he says, shaking his head. I'm sure he still can't believe our life. I can't believe it myself, either.

Scully is standing beside me and she laughs. I put my arm around her, pulling her close. Hard to believe it was less than a year ago I didn't want her to touch me in front of her family out of fear of being discovered.

"Not as glad as I am to be here. And you can call me Mulder," I say.

"Oh, call him Fox. It really ticks him off," Mrs. Scully says as she walks into the room.

"I only let beautiful women call me Fox, Mrs. Scully. You know that," I say and I get an elbow in the ribs from Scully.

"Is that so! Then explain why Di. . ." she starts to say, and I know what name is going to come next, but she stops. We have yet to touch upon that subject yet. Scully attended the funeral with me. Her family was gracious and forgiving but didn't make a point to go out of their way to include me in anything. Thank heaven for small favors.

We stand here in silence. Charlie and Katie are confused. Mrs. Scully knows everything. She just clears her throat and looks at her daughter.

"Does this mean I can call you Fox?" Katie says, breaking the silence, her voice light and cheerful. Everyone laughs and I look at this other Scully woman who is offering me a big smile.

"Okay. I give. For today . . . and only for today . . . you can all call me Fox," I say and watch as Scully rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

"I can think of things I'd rather call you."

"Oh, I'm sure you can."

*******************

I watch as Scully and Katie scurry around, trying to get the table set for dinner. Charlie is pulling the turkey out of the oven and Mrs. Scully is putting the finishing touches on a bowl of mashed potatoes. The two boys are chasing their little sister around the backyard. I look out the window and can see their breath in the chilly air. A gentle tug of what has been lost pulls at my heart.

Would our children have looked like them? Would they have had my hair and her eyes?

In moments like this, when I'm left alone, memories come flooding in. Somewhere, images flow through my mind of a different life. A life I didn't choose to remain in. The name Katie meant something, but I'm not sure what. There are more recent images, stronger ones, that push those to the recesses of my mind.

A life without Scully. That is what I remember most. Maybe that is why they are so powerful. I had everything a man could want yet nothing *I* wanted.

I have yet to tell Scully the full extent of the dreams that crashed into my world while I was trapped in my mind. I can't explain them myself and am afraid she will interpret them wrongly. They were dreams that reached beyond this lifetime and lulled me into a false sense of security.

And then she came and saved me. She will always save me.

I close my eyes and am back on the beach. True wisdom can be found through the eyes of a child. They see things differently than we do. Sand and water is limitless in its possibilities. Life can be formed and reformed to fit the moment and when the dreams of that day wash away with the tide, they can be rebuilt the next.

Now is a time to build new dreams. To let go of things that can never be possible and hold on tight to things that can be. And if those dreams wash away, rebuild them the next day.

Someone is tapping me on the shoulder and I slowly open my eyes, letting that other world wash away.

"Are you okay?" Scully asks softly. She places a hand on my cheek and then my forehead as if this is some illness easily diagnosed. No, this goes beyond science and reason. This has to do with the human heart.

"I'm fine. Just sometimes . . ." I start to say, only to find myself at a loss for words. Sometimes what? Sometimes I can't believe I'm alive let alone standing here with her? Sometimes I find myself gasping for air in the middle of the night and I don't know why?

"Come on. Sit down and eat. Everyone is waiting," Scully says, as she tugs my shirt sleeve.

"I'll be there in a minute, okay?" I say and she smiles at me before leaving.

I close my eyes again. The little boy is there with a small plastic shovel in one hand and a bucket in the other. The tide is lapping at our sand creation, taking it out to sea a little at a time. We have yet to learn to build it farther up on the beach. The changing tides wash what we do away every time. And every day, we have to rebuild everything.

Sometimes I get tired of rebuilding. Tired of the tides.

*Follow her,* he says, smiling at me.

*Are you sure?*

*Yes. Go,* he says, spinning around with his arms spread wide. The sand structure under us has grown larger, and he is dwarfed in comparison. Yet, there is still so much to do. So much and the tide just keeps grabbing at it with wet claws, pulling it toward the outbound currents.

*I'll be back.*

*I know you will. But now you need to follow her. This can wait,* he says, sitting down in the middle of what we've been building. He puts the bucket down on one side of him and places the shovel in it, letting the plastic objects clatter together.

I open my eyes and he is gone. Yes. Rebuilding what was lost can wait.

Eating dinner with what -- or who -- was found again cannot. I can ignore the tides for a while.

******************

"So, what happened to you this time, Mulder?" Charlie asks from across the table. "Another one of those liver eating things Dana told us about come and get you?"

"Charlie!" Scully says, giving her brother a cross look before turning to me. Actually, now everybody is looking at me. All buttering of rolls and serving of green beans has stopped.

"It's okay. I'm not sure what happened yet. All I know is I woke up with your sister standing above me," I say, smiling at Scully. "And one hell of a headache. I felt like I went one on one with a huge bottle of tequila and lost."

Everybody laughs and they begin eating again. It is noisy, with the boys trying to talk over each other and the little girl squealing about what she won't eat. Yet, as compared to the noise I recently survived, this could be considered silence.

The family shares old stories about when they were kids and I have nothing to add. My stories aren't as happy. Sure, there were moments during my childhood that stand out with vivid clarity as being perfect, but they are few and far between. I wonder what stories my mother would tell about me if she were sitting here. I wonder where in the hell my mother is.

"Dana, do you remember that time you were supposed to be watching me and our cousins but instead . . ." Charlie starts to say only to receive the look of death from Scully.

"Instead what?" I ask, encouraging him to continue. Some aspects of her life are still a mystery to me. All these years and we still have so much to learn about one another.

"Instead she invited over some guy . . . what was his name?" he asks his silent sister. Scully certainly isn't eager to supply the answer.

"I believe his name was Bryce," Mrs. Scully says, her feelings over this entire matter still evident in her voice. Scully dated a guy named Bryce? Somehow it seems fitting.

"And Bryce invited over every friend he had. By the time Mom and Dad got home, there was quite a rocking party going on," Charlie says, the smile on his face a mile wide. "And Dana and Bryce were nowhere to be found.

"So, where did you and Bryce escape to, Scully?" I ask, winking at her.

"Oh, I think you know better than anyone else here," she says, winking back.

The attic. Ah, that was a while ago, wasn't it? A fond memory created in the Scully house.

"Cranberries anyone?" Mrs. Scully asks, trying to change the subject.

"Hand them to Charlie. Maybe if he gets around to eating something, he'll shut up," Scully says, giving her brother the evil eye again.

"Do you have to sit at the kid's table, young lady?" Mrs. Scully asks with a smile.

"He's the child. Put him there," Scully says, smiling back at her mother.

"So, when are you two ever getting married?" Katie asks innocently.

Dead silence envelopes the room immediately and all eyes are on the two of us.

"Well, um . . ." I say, trying to come up with an answer.

"Um . . . yeah . . ." is the best Scully can do.

We look at each other, eyebrows raised. After all we've been through, this has never come up.

****************

"Where are we going?" I ask Scully. She gets into the lane that indicates she's dropping me off at my place. She hasn't come up to my apartment ever since I first got home from the hospital. Sometimes, I'm sure she's avoiding me or us or whatever we might be.

"I'm dropping you off," Scully says, looking in the rear view mirror before changing lanes.

"Are you coming in?" I ask, watching her wet her lips quickly with the tip of her tongue.

She doesn't answer right away. She stops at a street light and not a word is spoken while we wait for it to turn green. We just watch the lights in front of us. Scully accelerates and turns down the road to my place.

"I don't know," she finally says. We fall into an edgy silence that is punctuated every so often by the sound of Scully's squeaky breaks. The final squeak lands us in front of my apartment.

"What are you afraid of?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper. I'm answered only with more silence. "Please tell me."

"I don't know. I'm not sure what I believe right now. I don't know what you want. Most of all, I'm not sure what we are anymore," she says, looking out the window and not at me.

I want to provide all the right answers, but so many past attempts have failed.

"First of all, no one has demanded that you change what you believe, Scully. Second, I just want to be with you. And third, at a fundamental level, we're what we have always been. Friends. The rest is just . . . the chocolate sauce on a bowl of ice cream. And the fact that you have let me crawl into bed with you on many an occasion is just the cherry on top," I say, watching the corner of her mouth curl up in to a slight smile.

"Ice cream with cherries," she says, her eyes flickering with the memory of something we shared not too long ago.

"Come in. Spend the night with me. Spend the rest of your life with me," I say. She suddenly turns toward me, her eyes wide.

"What?" she asks, her voice filled with more than just surprise.

"Spend the rest of your life with me."

"Can we just get through tonight first," she says, watching me closely for a reaction. I try not to supply her with one.

"See, when I threaten you with an eternity with me, one night doesn't seem so bad," I say with a smile.

"'Well, then . . . let's go get started on eternity."

**************

It wasn't that long ago that we were together, yet it feels like a lifetime. I lived a lifetime somewhere in my own head, days speeding by and seasons cycling through too fast. Now Scully is before me again, standing in my living room, while my fingers slowly unbutton the sweater she is wearing.

A lifetime since the last time. She is acting as if it was more than a lifetime.

"We've been through a lot, Scully. Your work in Africa. My . . . ordeal. If you don't feel comfortable with this, I don't mind if we stop. I mean . . . I want to, but I wouldn't mind if you just stayed here with me," I say, my fingers stopping before her sweater is opened.

"I want to," she says, pulling my mouth down to hers. The first time we have kissed since Halloween. Emotions were too raw to allow this until now. This didn't fit into the picture while I . . . we . . . were recovering.

But it does now.

Her hands tug on my t-shirt until I pull it off. Then she finishes removing her sweater, camisole top and undergarments. Still, we just stand in front of each other, exposed again not in anyway that we haven't been before, yet feeling far more naked. It's as if we were always tip-toeing around the depth of what we are and how far this can go.

I had to nearly die in order to realize how much I want to live. And to live with only Scully.

She runs her fingers up my chest and it brings back a far away memory . . . of dreams I never shared with her.

"Scully," I interrupt, not knowing why I'm doing this now. "I want to tell you something. It is a dream . . . a vision I had when I was in a coma."

I guide her to the couch, handing her the blanket so she can cover up.

"What is it?" she asks, her voice sounding hollow. There is so much she already discovered during that period of time. I'm not sure she can take anymore before she swallows what was already on her plate.

"I am aware of only having two dreams, one very different from the other. I can't explain them entirely yet . . . probably never will be able to. But I think you should listen to them, no matter how much the one might hurt," I say, watching her eyebrow rise at that last word.

"What?" she asks. Her eyes look worried.

"In the first dream, my dad came to me and offered me everything you and I could ever want. The only condition was I had to die for it. In this dream, you were . . . pregnant," I say, watching her look away from me. "And we already had a little girl. Her name was Kate and she was going to be Clara in the Nutcracker Suite. Oh . . . we also had a dog and a very suburban life."

"No wonder you didn't stay," she says, a slight smile replacing her look of worry.

"That wasn't it. I could have stayed. It was comfortable but it wasn't my life . . . this life here with you. But I was willing to die and give you that life until I realized it wasn't real. Then you came to me and told me I had to hang on. I knew what I had to do. What you really wanted from me," I say. She doesn't say anything right away, instead taking the time to absorb what I just told her.

"Dying wouldn't have given me any of those things. Instead, I would have been left without you," Scully says, her voice soft and understanding.

"There's more to this world than you can hold in your hands," I say, trying to repeat back to her the conversation she told me she had with Albert. Her eyes squint as she tries to figure out how it could have worked.

"No. That was a world created in your head. You were sick . . . very sick. Somehow, you . . . your mind was trying to tell you it was okay to let go. That I would be fine. And eventually, I might have been okay again. But it would have taken a very long time," she says, pulling me close and stroking the side of my face with her thumbs.

"I didn't want to leave you . . . leave *this* life," I say. I pull her toward me, holding her tight.

"You said two dreams. What was the other one?" she asks. I take a deep breath before I begin this one.

"In this dream, Cancerman came and got me from the hospital," I start my story and she interrupts.

"That is because he did," she says, reminding me of something I have yet to take care of.

"He took me to this . . . neighborhood. Very suburban and probably had more CC and Rs then that place in California. He offered me a different life. One different from this one and from the one my dad offered," I say, not ready to mention that in this dream, *he* was my father.

"And?" she asks. Now we are getting to the hard part.

"It was a life with Diana."

Her body tenses in my arms and she is holding her breath, waiting for me to go on.

"With . . ."

"Diana. Yes. They offered me a life that was filled with everything a man could want. House. Wife. Kids. Time to relax and enjoy life," I continue.

"Wife? Kids?" she asks.

"Yes. And Deep Throat was alive. And Samantha lived there, too," I say, for that was the only reason I would have ever thought of staying.

"Sounds like a very nice life," she says, her voice cold. I can't blame her.

"But you want to know what brought me out of it? I was ready to die in that life. I had nothing left at the end of it and then you came to me. You made me live. Not any of those other trappings of existence. Without you, they meant nothing," I say, feeling her body finally relax in my arms. "I love you. No one else."

"Thank you," she says.

"For what?" I ask, still holding her.

"For trusting me enough to share that with me," she says and I feel a tear drop hit my chest and slowly roll down.

"Scully, there is no one else on earth . . . in this life or any other . . . that I trust like you."


***************

November 26, 1999
12:18 p.m.

Her hands move to the buttons of my jeans, slowly releasing me from the heavy denim fabric. She slides her fingers into the fly of my boxer shorts, skimming over my already hard cock. It sends a shiver through me, this first touch again in the life I want to live. This is what it is to be alive.

Scully slides my jeans and boxers down over my hips and I kick them aside. I return to undressing her, picking up where I left off in the living room. In a moment, we are both standing naked in my bedroom, wrapped in each other's arms. I feel her smooth, warm skin against mine, slowly realizing that I could spend forever like this.

Her mouth makes contact with my neck, gently kissing me, moving farther down. I feel her tongue slide across my chest, making brief contact with my nipples before she sinks to her knees. She rests her head against my abdomen for a second and I revel in the feel of her soft cheek against me. So close. We are so close now.

She pushes me backward until I am sitting on the edge of my bed with her between my knees. Her eyes meet mine only briefly before her mouth makes contact with my cock, sending even more shivers from that part of my body to the ends of . . . everything.

With deliberate ease and motion, she wraps her lips around me, applying just the right pressure. She flicks her tongue around, sending me into a some other world entirely. But it remains a world and a life with her in it. What more could I want? I close my eyes, unable to handle all the wonderful sensations her mouth is providing.

I look down at her, wondering how she could love me so much after all I've put her through. Love me enough to come to work with me. To make me a part of her life. To let me share a bed with her. To do *this* and demand nothing in return.

But I want to return so much to her.

"Scully, come here," I mutter, barely able to get the words out as I pull her off her knees. She breaks contact with my cock, cold air rushing in and across the wetness, causing even more stimulation.

"What?" she asks, licking the edge of her mouth as if she doesn't want to forget the taste of me.

"I want you," I say, my voice ragged and rough with the desire I feel for her.

"Always?" she asks back.

"Always," I say, pulling her toward me and onto the bed.

She ends up besides me and I slowly spread her thighs apart before feeling her wetness. A slight sound of approval escapes her throat as I make contact with her clit, stimulating her in the way she likes. The way I have learned to please her since this began.

Eleven months today. Eleven of the best and most satisfying months of my life.

Scully reaches for my cock, firmly stroking me as I match her pace on her body. Our hands start to slow down as release becomes imminent. This isn't how I want to come. I want to be inside of her, lost once again in her arms. It is the only safe place.

"Ohhhh . . ." she says, pushing my hand away before she climaxes. She releases her gentle hold on me before she maneuvers herself on top of me. Scully guides my cock into her, sinking down as far as she can. She moans in satisfaction as she takes me all the way in and remains perfectly still.

Our eyes remain focused on one another, hers penetrating and dark. And they tell me more than a million words ever could. I hope mine answer the right thing back.

"Please," comes whining out of me. I want her to move. She has to move or I'm going to die.

She gives me a coy smile before she begins to move, her hands on my chest to give her leverage. My hips rise up to counter each thrust she makes, grinding into her.

So close to the last time. The only difference is her hair doesn't sweep over her face since she had it cut. But who am I to talk. Somewhere, someone did something to my hair. Probably some whacko with a pair of scissors in the neuro ward.

My hand finds her clit and she adjusts her angle so she is in contact with it all the time. She slips forward, her hands on both sides of my head, her breasts tickling my chest.

Scully raises herself, and then, quickly sinks back down on me, so warm and wet around my cock. She never breaks the frenzied pace she has built up to, slamming up and down on me. On my hand.

Still, our eyes remain locked on each other. Reading one another. No words are needed.

It is only a matter of moments before I'm coming inside of her and screaming out her name. She sinks down one more time and her body begins to quake around me, her muscles drawing everything out of me.

She falls forward, letting me slip out of her wetness. I breathe in deeply, enjoying the smell of sweat and sex and her, all mixed together.

She rolls to the side, wrapping herself up in the comforter, still watching me. She pulls her hand out of under the covers and places it on my cheek, her warmth radiating through me.

"Don't leave me again," she whispers softly.

"I'll try not to," I say, as I pull her close to me again.

********************

November 26, 1999
10:14 a.m.

The sound of a fork clinking against a plate wakes me up. Scully is sitting in bed eating a piece of her mother's pumpkin pie and reading the newspaper. She is wearing one of my dress shirts and a pair of my sweatpants.

With the sun streaming through the window and dancing across her hair, I've never seen a more beautiful sight. That is until she turns to me and smiles. This could be a dream. Early morning Scully, her face scrubbed of any make-up, her hair tousled and her glasses still on.

"Hey, sleepy head. I didn't think you were ever getting up," she says as she sets the empty plate down and thumbs through the newspaper. "Can you believe this made the front page?"

"I can't even see it," I say as she opens the newspaper for me. I grab my glasses off of the night table to look at the story she's pointing out. "Slow news day?"

"Must be," she says, taking the paper back. I prop myself up on my elbow to watch her. She turns to look at me, a smile turning up the edges of her mouth. She reaches out and pushes my glasses up my nose."Did I ever tell you how cute you look in those?"

"Cute?" I say, my voice rising in pitch as I say that dastardly word,

"Okay, maybe cute is the wrong word. Distinguished? Intelligent?" she says, trying to decide.

"Same to you," I say, looking at her. She grows silent, looking at her hands folded neatly upon the newspaper.

"Mulder, you are going to have to deal with your mother one of these days. You can't avoid her for the rest of your life," she says, not looking at me. It is a touchy subject that has only been broached once before.

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, not able to register everything I feel about that woman right now. Yes, she's my mother. I will always love her. But how could she?

"I know. I have to do it," I say through gritted teeth.

"Do it now. I'm going to go clean up the kitchen. I'll be back in a few minutes," Scully says, as she gets up and out of bed. She picks up her plate and hands me the cordless phone. I wait until I hear the water running in the sink before I dial.

She answers after two rings.

"Hi, Mom. It's me."

********************

Scully shows up just as I walk out of the bathroom.

"How did it go? The conversation with your mother, I mean," she says, as we both climb back in bed and under the covers.

"It was as stiff and unmoving as ever. But she wants me to come see her on Christmas," I say, looking at her for any reaction.

"Okay," she says, a tinge of hurt rising in her voice.

"I know it is our first anniversary of being . . . this . . . and I won't go if you ask me to stay," I say. I reach out and run my fingers down her arm, tugging on the sleeve of my shirt.

"No. You go. It's important. Besides, my brother Bill will be in town and after last year . . ." she starts to say, smiling at the memory.

"What? You don't want me to display my assets for your brother again?" I ask and she laughs.

"No. . . I don't think we need to make it a Scully family tradition. I don't mind admiring your . . . assets, but I think that is enough," she says, fluffing up the blanket to look at me.

"Scully, I'll make it up to you. We will spend New Year's Eve together, okay? I promise," I say. Her hand snakes down under the blanket, making contact with the long admired assets.

"Aren't you afraid the world is going to end?" she asks, her hand wrapping around me, causing me to moan.

"I think we will get through it just fine."

**********

The end

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