All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No
infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court...
I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh...

Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org 

Summary: Mrs. Scully demands answers from her daughter...
Rating: G, Story...
Spoilers: Memento Mori, at the least...


Rolling Thunder (1/1)
by Sheryl Martin

The two women sat across from each other at the dining room table, the
silence almost welcome.

Margaret Scully briefly glanced at Dana's plate; noting the methodical
slicing of the steak and wondered if her daughter would ever have what could
pass for a normal life.

Well, as her late husband would say, speak now or don't bother.

"Dana..."

Dropping her utensils on her plate with a shattering crash, the petite
redhead looked up. "Mom..." Her face was tight; dark circles under her eyes.

The older Scully let out a sigh. "How... how are you doing?"

Her daughter dabbed at her mouth with the napkin before speaking, still
averting her eyes. "Fine. I'm fine..."

"No, you're not." The words came out through closed teeth, her jaw set tight.
"You've got cancer. You're ill. I just don't know why you don't let me tell
the boys and then..."

"Then what, Mom?" Picking up a piece of meat on her fork, she inspected it
before popping it into her mouth. "You all feel sorry for me; call me every
few hours to see if I'm still alive and then offer another prayer for me at
Sunday Mass?"

"Dana..." Margaret tilted her head to one side. "Just because you left the
Church is no reason to mock me or my beliefs..."

The younger woman looked down at her plate again, a slight nod of her head
acknowledging her error. Chewing on her lower lip, she waited for her mother
to continue, as she knew she would.

"Your brothers have a right to know. Asking me to keep this from them is
wrong; and I don't know if I can do that."

"You promised." The words came out in a sulky tone, as if they were
discussing a broken curfew.

"But they should know. Father McKuen should know." Leaning back, the older
woman reached for her own napkin. "Mulder knows."

"He's my partner."

"He knows. And he knew before me." The last sentence cut them both. "You told
him before me. Why?" She whispered. 

"I..." Dana tilted her head to one side, looking finally at her mother
through an errant lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes. "I thought I
had things under control."

"Oh, Dana..." Her mother sighed, a deep sobbing sigh that brought tears to
both their eyes. "You always want to have things under your control."
Dropping the napkin on the table, she pushed the plate away and crossed her
hands on her lap. "You always want to have things your way and it just
doesn't always work out."

"I can handle this." She stammered slowly, each word a sentence. "I will
handle this and I will be fine."

"No, you will not be fine." Margaret shook her head. "You'll never be fine,
Dana." Leaning back, she looked at the ceiling. "I've prayed so much that I
wonder sometimes if He just ignores me; says 'Oh, it's Margaret again -
another crisis'."

"Mom..."

"What?"

An angry shake of her head. "Nothing."

"No, it's something..." Her stern tone took Dana back twenty years. "What is
it?"

"I just wonder..." She sighed. "Mom, I've seen things that you couldn't
understand, can't understand... and I don't know why God lets these things
happen. To me, to you... to Mulder..." Shaking her head again, she looked
down at the cold dinner. Outside a warning clap of thunder announced the
storm's arrival. "I've seen things..." 

Margaret stared at her; saw the distant look in her eyes and suppressed a
shiver. 

"I've seen things that make me want to run and hide. And then people who
just..." The petite redhead lifted her hands, as to look at them for the
first time. "They show me that He is out there, somewhere. But I still can't
reconcile it enough to go back to church; to the ceremonies and the words."
The sigh tore at both their hearts. "I can't, Mom... not yet..."

The older Scully nodded, pursing her lips. "Your father used to talk like
that at times after a tour. I never asked what he saw that gave him such
thoughts, but maybe I should have. Maybe I'd understand."

"No, Mom. You wouldn't."

"And Mulder does?"

A sad smile from her daughter. "He... tries. I think in his own way on his
own terms, he does."

"But you still told him before me. And you want me to keep it still from your
brothers." The accusation was clear.

Taking a deep breath, Dana got to her feet and carried her plate into the
kitchen, terminating the conversation. Another crash of thunder shook the
windows as the rain began to fall.

Grabbing her own plate, Margaret followed her into the kitchen; watching her
intently as Dana filled the sink with hot water and soap.

"Then what do I tell them when they ask? When Billy comes to me and asks
why..."

Her daughter leaned back on the counter. "Tell him... that it was my
decision. And that I expected you to respect it as much as you want me to
respect your decisions."

"I still say it's wrong." A softer tone.

"I know."

"I don't understand."

"I know, Mom. Sometimes I don't understand."

"Would it help if you talked to Fox?"

"Mulder is... Mulder."

"And that means?" She reached for the still-warm teapot and poured two mugs
of tea for herself and her daughter.

"That he does as he wants. And I follow when and if I can."

"Is that how you see your relationship?" Margaret shook her head. "And this 
is supposed to be the new age of men and woman..." The irony wasn't lost on
Dana, who let out a muffled groan.

"It's nothing like that, Mom..."

"Sure, Dana."

"It's not..."

"I know... but I'm not getting any younger..." The joking tone in Margaret's
voice signalled a change in topic.

Familiar ground. A lighter conversation.

Overhead the storm crashed against the house in full force, the thunder
deafening. But the two women didn't hear it; too busy to pay attention.

*********



"Heart of a warrior; mind of a fool... soul of a romantic." - Jackie St.
George
"I am a brother to dragons and a companion to owls..." - The Book of Job
********
Monk: "What is Tao?"
Ts'ao-shan: "A dragon singing in the dry wood."
Monk: "I wonder whether there is anyone who can hear this?"
Ts'ao-shan: "There is no one in the entire world who does not hear this."
Monk: "I do not know what kind of composition the dragon's song is."
Ts'ao-shan: "I also do not know; but all who hear it lose themselves."
********

"Baa-Ram-Ewe!"  - Dana Scully