TITLE: "The Call"
AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * <kirsten_xf@yahoo.com>
CLASSIFICATION: MSR
KEYWORDS: S R 
RATING: PG, I suppose
SPOILERS: None whatsoever
SUMMARY: A lonely Mulder calls a lonely Scully
DISCLAIMER: They're mine! *laughs like a lunatic* No 
seriously, I don't own them, nor would I want to (seeing 
that I can barely keep myself on the money I make). I 
don't own the New York Knicks or Washington Wizards 
either, which suits me fine too. =)
TIMELINE: Season 8-ish
ARCHIVING: Sure. I'll do Gossamer myself, all others: 
you're welcome when you tell me where it's going, 'kay?
NOTE: Written in about two hours ... I need a life!
FEEDBACK: Cherished and worshipped at  
<kirsten_xf@yahoo.com>
HOMEPAGE: http://www.cluich.net/x-files.htm 

XxXxX
"The Call"
by Kirsten Kerkhof
XxXxX

It was late that afternoon, about five-ish, when my mom 
called me into the kitchen. I was staying with her for the 
weekend, having requested and received a long weekend 
off work. I needed some time away from the office and the 
hectic situations that went hand in hand with the job. And 
with Mulder away on a case that was to take him to 
Nebraska as we soon found out, I decided that enough was 
enough. I needed to wind down for a while.
	
I wasn't accompanying Mulder on this case because, well, 
I'd severely broken my ankle almost two months before 
and I was still recuperating. And while office work was 
deemed just fine, no one was letting me get into field 
already. Not before my doctor would give the all-clear 
anyway. You know that line about doctors making the 
worst patients? I like to think I invented it ... I was giving 
my doctor a whole new insight in the workings of the 
human mind. I really feel for the guy ...
	
Anyway, the office was empty, my apartment was lonely, 
and I was feeling like crap without having Mulder and all 
his frustrating, annoying, endearing habits around me to 
piss me off and charm me all at the same time. Yes, I have 
it bad. So, last Wednesday I went to see Skinner and asked 
if I could have the rest of the week off, to be back at work 
on Monday morning. I could, so I called mom right after 
that, and lo and behold, she had no plans yet.
	
It may sound surprising to you that I was expecting my 
mom to have any plans, her being retired and everything, 
but if there is one woman on this planet who has to keep a 
diary for all the activities that have nothing to do with 
work, it would have to be my mother.
	
So, here I was, sitting in my mother's spacious living 
room, watching a Wizards - Knicks game, wearing 
Mulder's knicks jersey over my sweater – he was 
probably wondering where he left the shirt at that very 
moment – because I'd promised him I'd keep him updated 
on the Knicks' scores. This game was not a pretty sight 
even for someone who was only a Knicks fan by default. 
To say they were being slaughtered would be an 
understatement. So in the end I was enjoying it only for 
the spectacle and not for the scores themselves.
	
Right when the Wizards were performing the latest 
addition to the Knicks' humiliation, I heard my mother's 
voice from the kitchen. This was probably not the worst 
moment to leave the game, so I switched the TV off and 
walked into the kitchen. I felt a light twitch in my ankle, 
but knew it was nothing. Having seen the scale of my 
fracture, this twitch was nothing to be worried about at all.
	
"Dana, could you help me making dinner?"
	
"Sure mom, what would you like me to do?"
	
She handed me a knife, the chopping board and some 
tomatoes. "If you could start cutting these up, I can add 
them to the sauce. I need to chop up some leeks and 
onions as well and I'm running out of hands to do the 
chopping."
	
I smiled as I started slicing the tomatoes into quarters and 
then into smaller pieces. Having done that, I took some of 
the leeks and began chopping these into thin slices as well, 
to add to the bubbling sauce.
	
Mom was just stirring all the ingredients together and I 
was just standing there, sniffing all those delicious smells 
that emanated from the pan, when the phone rang. Mom 
handed me the wooden spoon with the order to keep 
stirring, and went to answer it. I couldn't resist a taste, 
moaning lightly as the myriad of tastes danced 
delightfully across each and every taste-bud. Damn, my 
mom could cook ...
	
"Dana? It's for you," she said, entering the kitchen and 
handing me the phone. "It's Fox."
	
I swear the smile on my face was completely involuntary 
and I tried to keep it within bounds, but I had no control 
over it. With a shrug – I know my mom already has the 
guest list for our wedding written down and hidden in her 
underwear drawer, being the incorrigible romantic that she 
is – I took the phone, trying to ignore my mother's 
delighted smile.
	
"Hey, Mulder, it's me."
	
"Hey, Scully, I wasn't expecting to find you at your 
mom's house. Is everything all right?"
	
"Everything is fine, I took a few personal days." Just 
hearing his voice flooded me with warmth. Love is an 
amazing thing indeed. "How's the case?"
	
"Not too bad. Hoffmeyer is making a right mess of the 
paperwork, but apart from that things are looking pretty 
good. Caught the bad guy, rescued the good guys, bring 
out the red carpet and call in the band!"
	
"I'm glad to hear you're getting along swimmingly with 
your colleagues. But what else was I expecting from the 
infamous Fox Mulder, right?"
	
"Madam, I feel insulted."
	
I laughed out loud at that comment. He was quiet on the 
other side for a long moment. Then, when he spoke again, 
his voice was a bit rough around the edges.
	
"God, you sound so sexy when you laugh ..."

It sobered me up right away. "Really ...?" I could only say. 
And, my God, I missed him at that moment. So very 
much.
	
Mom touched me on the arm at that moment. "Hold on, 
Mulder, mom wants to say something."
	
"The sauce is simmering, so I'll be in the living room 
when you need me, okay? You can have some privacy. 
Oh, and give my love to Fox, will you?"
	
I heard Mulder on the other side say, "I love you too, 
Maggie!" in a loud voice so she could hear him, making 
us both smile. I waited for mom to have left the kitchen 
when I spoke again.
	
"Two Scully women, Mulder? You think you can handle 
two?"
	
"Oh no, not two Scully women," he replied and I could 
hear the grin in his voice. "But no matter how much I love 
your mom, you'll always be my Scully."
	
"That is so sweet. Are you sure you're the man I work 
with and not some sweet-talking imposter pretending to be 
my goofy partner?"
	
"I could come home and prove it to you."
	
'Hell yeah,' I thought. 'Get your ass over here ASAP and 
show me just how sweet you can be when you want to.' 
But I couldn't ask that of him. He had finally amassed a 
fair amount of good-will in the Bureau, and was starting 
his way up the ladder about 20 years late – and he was 
enjoying the climb too! – so the last thing I wanted to do 
was get him off this case because I was missing him so. 
Besides, he'd just said the case was closing, so he'd be 
home in a few days anyway. "You can't do that, Mulder."
	
"I could, but it wouldn't look good. I'll do it if you need 
me, though. You're more important than a couple of 
friggin rules."
	
"You shouldn't do it. It would destroy all you've achieved 
in the past months. I'm not worth that."
	
"Oh yes you are," he answered, sounding completely 
serious. I was speechless for seconds at a stretch, not 
knowing how I could possibly reply to that.
	
"You still there, Scully?"
	
"Yeah, yeah, I'm still here. Just ... baffled, I guess."
	
"Is that a good thing?"
	
"Yeah, that is a very good thing."
	
We were silent for a bit. I closed my eyes and imagined 
him being right next to me, saying all those wonderful 
wonderful things. Instead of the hundreds, even thousands 
of miles that lay between us in reality.
	
"I wish you were here ..." I whispered.
	
"I wanna be where you are," he replied, equally softly. 
"God, Dana, I miss you so much!"
	
"Next case I'm coming along, no matter what my 
physician says," I said, completely serious. This was 
ridiculous, me being here and him being practically on the 
other side of the country. My place was right there by his 
side, not here in my mother's neat kitchen, watching a 
stupid pan of sauce.
	
"That would be so much better."
	
We were silent again, but it was a beautiful vibrant 
silence. Then, after a little while he spoke again.
	
"Scully, what are you wearing?"
	
I laughed again. "Your Knicks jersey," I replied.
	
"What else?"
	
"Who's saying I'm wearing anything else?"
	
I heard a groan on the other side and I grinned. This man 
was so easy to turn on. "Come on, Scully, you're in your 
mom's house. She is not going to let you walk around 
wearing only my Knicks jersey and – " He stopped 
abruptly.
	
"What?"
	
I heard him take a deep breath. "I needed a moment right 
there. My mind was bringing up pictures of you naked 
under my Knicks jersey and it seems to have 
shortcircuited a couple of neurons in my brain ..."
	
I chuckled. "Take your time browsing those pictures, Fox, 
and maybe later we can compare them with the real 
thing."
	
"You'd do that?"
	
Just the thought was arousing me already. "Hell, yeah," I 
answered in a throaty whisper.
	
Then a thought occurred. "Mulder, is there anyone in that 
room with you? Because if so I don't think we should be 
having this conversation."
	
"Don't worry, there's no one around. Well, as far as I 
know anyway."
	
I smiled. "That's good. Soooo, what are *you* wearing?"
	
"Boringly enough, I'm wearing my navy suit. But I could 
pretend to be wearing just my faded jeans and feed you 
some pictures if you want."
	
"What I want is having you in just your faded jeans right 
here and showing me those pictures in real-time."
	
I knew he was grinning. "Are we planning a date?"
	
"A date?"
	
He put on his best fortune-teller voice. "Ah, young lady, 
your future ... yessss, your future looks verry interesting. I 
see ... Knicks jerseys ... and faded jeans and ... ahh, what a 
lovely future you have!"
	
"You want me to cross your palm with silver now?"
	
"You have no idea what I want, Scully," he replied in his 
own tones, gravelly though they sounded.
	
"Maybe I do. And maybe I want the exact same things ..."
	
"Do you think so?"
	
"Mm-mm ..."
	
"Well, that does it. Screw the Bureau, I'm coming home!"
	
I laughed again. "When can you be home?"
	
"I'm going to be there as quickly as I can. I want you so 
badly it's getting ridiculous."
	
I sighed. "I want you too, Fox ..." I said softly, as I 
switched the phone to my other ear to have a look at the 
sauce again. It was looking delicious as always. "Hold on 
a sec, Mulder, I'm going to stir mom's sauce."
	
"It's not *the* sauce we're talking about, is it?"
	
"It most definitely is. Too bad you won't have the chance 
to sample it this time."
	
"Who's saying I won't?" he said mysteriously.
	
I frowned. Something was wrong here ... it sounded like 
he said that in stereo or something. As if he was standing 
in the same room ...
	
I turned around to see him grinning in the doorway, 
holding his phone, but pressing the disconnect-button 
when I spotted him. "You still sure I won't be able to taste 
your mom's sauce, Scully?"
	
"Mulder!" I tossed my mother's phone onto the cupboard 
and just about launched myself into his arms. "God, 
Mulder, when did you get here?" I said, my voice muffled 
as I pressed my face into his hair.
	
"I only just arrived. Gave your mother a right scare in the 
process, but your reaction was definitely worth it."
	
I lifted my face to see his expression. He was smiling 
widely. "I tried your apartment when I got off the plane, 
but I got the machine, which led me to deduct you were 
either in the office or out, so I called the office. Doggett 
picked up and told me you were at your mother's house, 
though he didn't tell me for what reason. That's why I 
sounded a bit concerned at first. Making up my mind I 
took a cab to that bar a couple of blocks from here, having 
decided to have a little innocent fun just before turning up 
on your mother's doorstep completely unannounced. So, 
here I am! You happy?"
	
I sighed with a smile, leaning in for a nice long kiss. "My 
dear Mr Mulder, 'happy' doesn't even *begin* to cover 
it."

FINIS

Kirsten Kerkhof
(c) The Netherlands, 10 September 2003


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