Sent to EMXC 12/6/95... Timeline: This occurs after "Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose"... it's mid-October, 1995. Standard Disclaimer: The X-files belong to 20th Century Fox and are used without permission. Anyone who wants to can reprint, re-post, or archive this story to their heart's content as long as 1) my name and e-mail address are included and 2) nobody makes any money off of it. Print it out, pass it around. Eat, drink, and be merry. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone, living, dead or otherwise is a total coincidence, except for Marie, who is near and dear to my heart, and Ann, who is a character all on her own (snerk!). Comments, criticism, and flames can be directed to Lycana@aol.com (I've got my fire extinguisher ready and waiting!). "Chance Encounter 2: Second Chance" by Shannon Lynch The sky was overcast in that particular shade of gray that said heavy rain could fall at any moment. Wind swirled the storm clouds in chaotic patterns reminiscent of Mandelbrot. It was, all and all, an impressive backdrop to the Washington Monument. Placing her ever-present backpack down, Marie Chance sat on a conveniently placed bench and watched the water of the reflecting pool ripple in the breeze. The same breeze played with her short, dark hair, giving her a half-comical, half-crazed appearance. The city was dreary, dark, damp and cold. She smiled. It reminded her of home. Marie rolled her neck, hearing the upper vertebrae snap and pop. Curling her legs up next to her, she pulled out a notebook and pen. A single phrase had been beating around in her brain all day. It had awoken her out of a sound sleep. It had distracted her during breakfast. It had annoyed her during her meeting with the Lone Gunmen. The smile flashed across her face again. She and her best friend, Ann, had decided to take a much-deserved (in their opinion) vacation from life and spend their Fall Break in Washington playing tourist. The drive down (Marie detested flying) had been a riot, between the fast food, caffeine, and impromptu sing-a-longs. There was nothing in the world that could compare to barreling down the highway while "Flight of the Valkyries" pounded out of the speaker system. Of course, she couldn't pass up a chance to meet the Lone Gunmen. She'd been a subscriber to the magazine since junior high. So, for this morning, she and Ann had split up. Marie went to see the Gunmen, and Ann went shopping. Ann had wanted to come along, but Marie equated a meeting between the Gunmen and her friend about equal to a meeting between sodium and water. Highly volatile, potentially explosive. Marie chewed on the end of her pen and stared at a blank notebook page. She had about half an hour to kill before she and Ann were going to meet for a late lunch. The tip of the pen pressed against the pristine paper, leaving behind a trail of black as she began to write. ____________________ Mulder strolled leisurely around the national monuments, carelessly avoiding groups of sixth graders on their class trips. He and Scully had been working hard all morning on his least favorite thing, paperwork. Life would be so much easier if only he didn't have to write everything down in triplicate and attach the appropriate receipts. Lunch had consisted of a chili-dog and a can of iced tea. Scully would have had a fit, if she'd been eating with him. She had a lunch date with her mother, however. It had been almost six months since Melissa's unfortunate death. Scully was still feeling guilty about that, and so had been more attentive to her mother. She had been more attentive to everything, actually, if that was even possible. Melissa may not have influenced Scully much during her life, but now that she was gone, Scully seemed to be recalling advice and seriously considering it. Mostly, she wasn't quite as skeptical anymore. That was the greatest change. Ever since New Mexico, Scully had been different. She still relied on science first. Mulder smiled softly. Always with Scully, science came first. But she no longer tossed aside his 'spooky' ideas as easily. More often, she tried to rationalize them. Foremost, she believed. Well, he knew that, under her skeptical exterior, Scully had always believed. She just never showed it as much. Mulder had been puzzling this out, on and off, ever since she'd told him that she 'just knew' he would be all right, even when the rest of the world thought he was dead. It was almost unnerving. He was not used to feeling unnerved. *He* was the one who made others feel that way. Stranger yet was the way she'd looked at him. It couldn't have been for more than a few seconds, but the expression on her face... He shook his head. Weird. Nobody ever looked at him like that. He needed to think. Automatically his feet headed toward the Reflecting Pool in front of the Washington Monument. It was a good place for, well, reflecting. It was also the place he used to meet with Deep Throat. That seemed like so long ago, sometimes. More like centuries had passed instead of just a few years. Mulder stopped short, slightly annoyed. Someone was sitting at his bench. ____________________ Marie blinked, her concentration broken, as an involuntary shiver traced down her spine. What the hell? Somebody was staring at her. She frowned and drummed her pen against the page. It hit her again, a pair of invisible beams boring into her skin. Gods, how obnoxious can you get and still breathe? Mulder walked up to his bench and sat down at the empty end. Not realizing he was staring, he had been wracking his memory, trying to figure out why the girl looked familiar. He recognized the face. Now, to put a name with it. "Hello, Marie," he said. She looked up, surprise flashing across her face, followed by annoyance, recognition, and smug revenge. "Hello, Fox," she replied before returning to her writing. "Agent Mulder, or just Mulder," he requested. She hummed a noncommittal reply and continued to ignore him. Marie was very, very good at ignoring people. A few words appeared in the wake of her pen. He released a silent sigh, remembering well the other time he'd met Marie. She'd said maybe two dozen words, and the rest of the time it was like he wasn't even there. Usually he was ignored by others due to his theories and reputation. With her, though, it was as though she didn't care at all who he was, or that he even existed. The words continued to flow out of her brain and onto the paper. The sounds fit together in her head, snapping onto each other like pop-beads. Pop, pop, pop... and another line practically wrote itself. They were coming faster, now. Her writing grew chaotic as her hand tried clumsily to keep up with her mind. With relief she completed the last word and returned to the top of the page to check her spelling and punctuation. A few strokes of her pen and the work was complete. She tore the page from her notebook and began to copy the words in smooth, neat cursive on the new, clean page. Mulder let his gaze slide down to the water and his mind return to Scully. He was worried about her. He always worried about her. He didn't like it, but he had to face the facts. Dana Scully was vital to his sanity. If she ever figured out how much he did to protect her, she'd probably shoot him. Again. ____________________ Marie looked at the ink-filled page with satisfaction, then glanced at her watch. She'd have to hurry to meet up with Ann. Time had gotten away from her as she wrote. A painful twinge behind her eyes made her frown and look up at the overcast sky. Economical movements stashed the notebook in her bag and pulled out a tightly folded umbrella. "It's going to rain," she informed the silent federal agent. A half-smirk crossed his face. "It's been threatening all day." The twinge pulled again, an unnoticeable change in air pressure that registered nowhere but in old battle injuries and her head. She quickly calculated the time for a six mile fall and unfolded her umbrella. "You're going to get wet," she warned him. "Right," he replied. "What're you, psychic?" He laughed softly, secure knowing that she had no idea what a joke that phrase was coming from him. The laughter cut off abruptly when the first large drops hit his head. In a few short seconds, the day went from dreary to soaking. Mulder stared up at the sky, then turned to Marie. She shook her head at him. "You were expecting toads?" With that parting shot, she turned on her heel and headed off. She was going to be really late. Mulder watched the retreating figure, trying to guess what she'd meant. He absentmindedly picked up the paper she'd left behind and stuck it into his pocket. ____________________ Marie glanced up at the storefront and grinned. Ann hurried out, plastic bags in hand, and found shelter under her friend's umbrella. "Do I even want to know?" Marie asked, pointing at the bags clearly marked 'Fantasy Forum' and bulging with purchases. "It's not what you're thinking, you sick-o." Ann pushed her light brown hair back and headed off toward the car, Marie following with the umbrella. "I got some good stuff, and if you're nice I'll share." The car doors were quickly unlocked and the two ducked into the welcome shelter. "How was your morning?" "Not bad. Remember that FBI guy I ran into coming back from spring break?" "Yeah," Ann mumbled, rifling through one of the bags. She triumphantly produce a Freddy Kruger glove, complete with razor blades. Marie rolled her eyes. "I ran into him again." "And?" Marie shrugged. "Nothing. I did a little writing, and it started raining just when I was heading off to meet you." "You pulled that weather-witch act again, didn't you?" Marie's lips twitched and a wicked gleam lit her eyes. "Yeah." "That's spooky, Marie. You probably freaked the poor guy out." Ann grinned as she produced a complete vampire make-up kit and handed it to her friend. "Here." "Fangs a lot." Ann groaned. "That was just bile, Marie." ____________________ Mulder squelched his way into the basement office and shucked his trench coat. Scully looked up from her computer in surprise. "What happened to you?" she asked with a smile. "It started raining," he replied. He eased into his chair and kicked off his shoes, wiggling his toes in a vain attempt to dry his socks out faster. Shifting in his chair caused the paper he'd stuffed into his pocket to rustle. He pulled it out and tried to decipher the runny ink. Sing to me sweet a soft good night. Whisper words like the watery winds then dance through my dreams in pale moonlight. Hold me close 'til a new day begins. For shadows are strong in the darkness bringing nightmares I can't keep at bay alone, yet your presence defeats them. So stay with me. Stay with me. Stay. Your soul heals mine when its shattered, as parched earth is healed by rain. Your mind matches mine, pushing further. You stand between me and my pain. Take my hand and my heart in your keeping, worthless treasures though they may be. In their giving perhaps they'll grow precious as you've become precious to me. I know well I do not deserve you. I'd be lost, should you e'er fade away. My anchor, you ground and complete me. Please stay with me. Stay with me. Stay. He got to the bottom of the page and blinked slowly. Maybe she was psychic, after all. "Mulder?" Scully asked softly. "Are you all right?" He turned to her and smiled. "Yeah, Scully. You and me and the X-files... all's right with the world." _____________________ The End... for now... Oh, by the way... that poem is MINE!!! And yeah, that's just how I wrote it, except I was in Cleveland and Mulder was no where to be seen. 8^)