TITLE: Life Portraits AUTHOR: Sandra Winarta DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as the story is intact along with my name, address and disclaimer. CLASSIFICATION: V KEYWORDS: M&S friendship. RATING: G. SPOILERS: None. TIMELINE: Early season five (before Christmas Carol). SUMMARY: A rainy afternoon compels Scully to rediscover her artistic talents. DISCLAIMER: I don't own FM or DS, nor do I claim to. CC and 1013 Productions do (and Rupert Murdoch too when I think about it)! LIFE PORTRAITS by Sandra Winarta The rain continued to splatter down all morning. It was the first Sunday in months that I didn't have a case, wasn't at Mom's, or out doing some trivial errand that couldn't wait. A rare morning, indeed. I sat on the couch enjoying the quiet sounds of my apartment. No radio. No TV. Just beautiful silence. It felt wonderful to just stare into space and let my mind run free. It was a luxury I haven't indulged in for a long time. The last few cases had taken their toll. I was thankful that I'd been given this moment to enjoy the serenity. My eyes eventually focused on a picture hanging on the wall. It was a simple drawing I did in junior high of my sister Melissa, cuddling a small puppy in her arms. I remembered sitting in our summer cottage on a rainy day just like this one. I was sulking after Dad refused to let me go to the beach, when Melissa came up with an idea. She took out her art stuff and asked me to draw her holding the newest member of the family, a Labrador puppy called Samson. It was a challenge I couldn't resist. After half an hour, Samson was tired of being cuddled and Melissa was tired of cuddling, so I had to complete the drawing from memory. It mustn't have been too bad because Mom had it framed and it's been on display for the past twenty years. From then on, whenever I got bored or depressed I'd take out a piece of paper and draw. By the time I got to high school, my art craze had died down somewhat. Between the debating and science competitions I hardly had the time to draw. College was even busier, and I had almost forgotten about my talent. Well, until today. Seeing that drawing made me want to start again. Something about it captured the essence of my life at that point -- a life full of innocence and playfulness. What could I draw to capture the essence of my life now? I pulled out a blank sheet of paper, a few pencils, and an eraser. I glanced about the room for some inspiration. My gun and badge sat on the coffee table, gleaming in the dim light. Was that what my life about? My work? No, I refused to believe that, even when most of my friends and acquaintances thought that my life was my work, and my work was my life. I knew that it only represented one part of me, not the whole. I spied the bookshelf and took out a photo album, flipping through the first few pages. They were photos from about two years ago. My hair was longer, my face less lined by the trials of experience. My eyes caught sight of a photo of Melissa and me. It must have taken been on Mom's birthday, just a couple of weeks before the nightmare started. Mom must have snapped a photo when we weren't looking. Missy had her arms stretched out, while a wide smile graced on my face. Melissa. I missed her more now as time passed. Now, when I've had the chance to realise what I had missed. I turned the page to find Mulder's grin beaming up at me, his hair spiked up in all directions. Now, why had I included that picture? It was taken while we were investigating some crop circle case in Kansas. The only thing I remember from that case was that the crime scene photographer was infatuated with Mulder -- surprise, surprise. She wouldn't stop snapping pictures of him. I also remember being extremely pissed off all through the case, although I couldn't imagine why. Okay, I *knew* why, but I didn't want to think about that for the moment. That Mulder smile -- a smile that wasn't quite a smile and wasn't a grin -- has intrigued me since I first saw it. It'd be a challenge for me to capture something so mysterious on paper. Pity, I didn't have the luxury of drawing from life. Oh well, que sera sera. I started to draw his outline. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* The ring of the phone surprised me so much that I dropped by pencil. I left my drawing unfinished on the coffee table and picked up the phone. "Hey, Scully." Who else would call me 'Scully'? "Oh, hi. Not playing basketball today?" "No, game got washed out. Say, are you kinda starving by any chance?" "Umm..." I heard my stomach rumble an affirmative. I must have forgotten about lunch. "I wouldn't say no if you want to bring over some food." "Great. I'll come by with some Thai." "Red curry chicken?" "How could I forget your fixation with anything that's the colour of your hair?" he teased, the last few words being drowned by the rumblings of passing truck. That was strange. I heard the exact same truck. "Mulder, where are you right now?" "Not far." "How far is 'not far'?" I asked, looking out the window. There he was, sitting in his car, window wound all the way down even though it was still raining, cell phone in his ear. "Mulder..." How could one man be so annoying and so captivating at the same time? "Does that mean I can come up now?" I saw him smile at my window. I smiled back. "Well... just this once. And only because I'm hungry and you've got red curry chicken." "*I'm* only coming up because it's freezing out here, and anyone else in this neighbourhood would call the cops if I tried to bust into their apartment." "That's what *I'd* do if someone burst in and threatened me with a container of red curry chicken." He laughed again. I haven't heard it in such a long time, and I wanted to hear it again. "I'll be up in a sec." he said before the line went dead. When he said one second, he wasn't kidding. I swore that the phone had only been down for thirty seconds when I heard a rap on the door. "What did you do, Mulder?" I said as I let him in. "Got Scottie to beam you up here or something?" He was juggling a stack of containers in one arm, and a six-pack of beer in the other. "I ran. The elevator doors didn't take half an hour to open like it usually does." I had to raise an eyebrow at that. I knew that the elevator doors have *never* opened that quickly for me -- and I lived here. He grinned at my expression. "Scully, how can you not believe?" I wanted to hit him, but then I wouldn't get any dinner. I quickly cleared the dining table while Mulder got some plates and glasses from the kitchen. The food was a bit cool, so I reheated it in the microwave. While I was busy in the kitchen, Mulder had opened a beer and was now sitting on the couch. Typical lazy male. "Wow, these are good." he called out. Oh, oh. He must have found my sketchbook. Had he found his drawing yet? "You make me look too good, Scully." Sounded like it. I took out the heated chicken and rice and placed them on the table, before walking over to Mulder. "Take that as a compliment, Mulder. It's the only one you'll ever get." I joked. "Believe me, I'm savouring every moment." he replied. I could see he was trying hard to shrug off the comment, and failed miserably. Good one, Dana. Nice blow right in the gut. "I didn't mean that, Mulder." "Yeah, I know." he shrugged, changing the subject immediately. "But I meant it when I said that these are good." He flicked through a couple before returning to the most recent drawing. "You gonna finish this today?" "Maybe. I'll think about it after dinner." "You'd better. I wanna see what a Scully masterpiece looks like." He laughed when I punched him in the arm. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Containers empty, stomachs full, we sat on the couch watching a stupid show about two FBI agents chasing *green* aliens. Agent Tully had a bust line so big it made Pamela Anderson's look flat. I could see Mulder's hand snaking for the remote, but I managed to grab it first. "Uh, uh." I said, holding the sacred object out of his reach. "Scully, this stuff's making me comatose. I need to watch the Knicks game." "I'll let you watch some basketball under one condition." "Yeah? And what's that?" "That you'd try to sit still while I finish this drawing." "You mean I can't bounce on the sofa when the Knicks score? Gee, that's tough." "Sit still or no game, and you'll have to watch more 'S-Files'" "What about if I need to go to the bathroom?" "I'll think about that one when we come to it." "Okay, it's a deal. Anything but *that* crap of a show." I tossed him the remote and he took to channel surfing like a nerd to his computer. He sighed when he found the game, happily putting up his feet on *my* coffee table. I sat down in front of him, far enough not to distract him, but close enough to be able to study him clearly. I watched him hiss out an elated 'yes' whenever the Knicks scored, and studied the way his forehead wrinkled with disgust every time there was a turnover. I observed the way his hazel eyes seemed more green than brown in the fading light. I suddenly laughed. Here I was drawing Mulder when just a few hours ago I'd sworn that it would never happen. Funny how things change. I had finished by half time, although that didn't mean I'd taken my eyes off him, not now when I had a good reason to watch him. I must remember to draw Mulder more often. It was half way through the third quarter before Mulder noticed that I wasn't scribbling away any more. "Finished?" I nodded. He motioned me to sit beside him on the couch. I sat close to him, legs folded under me, and showed him the finished product. "Wow, Scully. You should do more of these." he said, giving me that half-smile I'd tried so hard to replicate. Nothing beats the original. We sat together, shoulders touching. Warm. Comfortable. Safe against the rain outside. I glanced at the picture on my lap and felt its subject touch my arm to point out an incredible fact about the game. Instead of looking at the screen, I looked at him. Then, I understood why I chose Mulder as my subject. This man was the essence of my life. He detected my unconscious smile out of the corner of his eye and turned to face me. "What?" he asked. "Nothing." I replied softly, "Just happy, that's all." He dropped his gaze, and then lifted the corners of his mouth to form a smile so wide that it lit up his whole face. He lifted his eyes to mine, smile now gone from his lips. But not from his eyes. "Me, too." THE END.