"Between Slate And Glass"
By Rachel Howard


Classification:  VA
Rating: G
Spoilers: Little ones, for Demons 
- nothing too critical.
Keywords:  Missing scene from Demons
Summary: Scully/Tina Mulder.

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Dana could hear muffled sobs as she mounted the last 
few steps.  She shuffled her feet noisily, hoping that 
the creaky old house would give Mulder's mother the 
warning she needed that someone was coming to disturb 
her grief.

Damn him, she thought, suddenly enraged: I don't care 
what he was injected with. This is too much.  I don't 
need this.

The sounds of crying from inside the room had stopped.  
Lifting her hand, she knocked.

She heard bedsprings creak, then footsteps.

When the door opened, only a slight redness around her 
eyes showed that Tina Mulder had been weeping.  Her elegant 
face was composed, and she asked, "Has he gone?"

Dana bit back all the angry words, and replied, "Yes."

The other woman shut her eyes and sighed.  It might have 
looked contrived, but somehow it didn't.  Instead of wondering,
as she had for years, what it was like for Mulder growing up in
an angry, silent house, Dana found a new question.

What had it been like being his mother?

Tina gestured at the stairs.  "Please."  Descending, she 
added, "I think it would be best if I don't accompany you."

Dana turned, and Tina followed her down to the front hallway.  
On a mahogany table sat a small wooden box; Tina flipped it 
open and pulled out a set of car keys.

Fingering them, she looked at the young agent.  "Was it safe 
for Fox to drive?"

Steadily, Dana replied, "I think so.  The medication he was 
given doesn't seem to have affected his motor skills."  Silently,
 she added - except during the seizures, that is, but he hasn't 
had one of those in hours.  Several hours.  At least two hours. 
Her fingers itched to snatch the keys out of the other woman's 
hand, but she waited politely.

Tina rubbed her eyes one-handed, with her thumb and middle 
finger, something Dana had seen Mulder do a thousand times; 
she's tired, Dana thought, and worried.  That's when Mulder 
does that.

I wonder if she sleeps at night.

Just before the heavy silence grew unbearable, Tina reached out 
and handed the keys to Dana.  "It's the blue Volvo parked in the 
driveway.  It makes a little humming noise for the first few 
minutes after you start it, but the mechanic says it's nothing 
to worry about."

The keys were cold in her palm and Mulder was getting farther 
away with every passing second, but she stood as still as Tina, 
waiting.

Tina looked back at her, a little redness lingering, tinting 
the soft tissue of her eyelids.  She was still a beautiful woman,
but her composure seemed forced. 

Unnatural.

Finally, Tina said, in a voice that barely carried to where 
Dana stood only a few feet away, "Take care of him."

Disturbed, Dana said, "I do."

"You do," Tina echoed, her lovely eyes distant.  "Do you?"

Dana had no other answer, so she remained silent.

Tina turned away, and Dana reached for the brass doorknob.

"I never could."

Her hand was shaking but she turned the knob, shut the door 
behind her carefully, and went down the walk.  

The Volvo's engine turned over, and she backed out of the 
driveway carefully, determined not to let the tires slop over 
onto the edges of Tina Mulder's manicured lawn.

Before she pulled away, she looked up at the house.

The New England sunshine reflected off the windows, making 
them blank as slates.  White wood, gray trim.  Spacious.  
Refined.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Carefully touching her index finger to the inside edge of 
each lower eyelid, she drove away.

END