TITLE:  Lucky Bastard
AUTHOR: Kitsunagari
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER:  Chris Carter, 1013 and 20C Fox own Mulder, Scully etc. (gee, they
must be hard to shop for! :)).  Mark Donaldson's sorry ass is mine.
FEEDBACK:  Yes please!  I'll be pathetically glad to see it...Here's where to
send it - kitsunagarix@yahoo.com.  Nice stuff only please...I don't want to
develop a complex (and end up like Mark!).  *g*
DISTRIBUTION:  Any old where, just so long as my name's attached.  If you could
also drop me a quick email to let me know it would be much appreciated too!
SPOILERS:  100% spoiler free
CLASSIFICATION: SR
KEYWORDS: Scully/Other, Mulder/Scully (more or less!)
SUMMARY:  Scully's boyfriend reflects on his relationship with Scully...and hers
with Mulder, while waiting on Scully at a bar.

*********************************************************************

  I am Dana Scully's boyfriend.

  "Whoop-de-doo" some of you might say.  Or, "lucky bastard" if you've ever met
her.

  They're both pretty accurate.

  Don't get me wrong.  I love Dana.  I am _in love_ with Dana.  She is the most
amazing, wonderful, intelligent, special person I have ever met in my entire
life.  I had not known her an hour before I knew she was The One.

  Love at first sight?  How saccharine.

  And how true.

  I managed to restrain my first instinct of throwing myself at her feet and
begging her to marry me, and stuttered out some sort of dinner invitation
instead.

  Which she declined - oblivious to the tinkling sounds of the shards of my
broken dreams scattering around her feet.

  On some unbidden masochistic urge, I kept asking her out.

  Thank God, the fifth time, she said yes.

  Now let's get one thing clear here.  I'm successful, intelligent, and, all
false modesty aside, am pretty damn good-looking.  I've had more than my fair
share of success where women are concerned.

  And yet one look into those cool, appraising blue eyes of hers and I am as
nothing.

  I need another drink.

  I motion the bartender over and order another scotch, and torture myself by
stealing another look at my watch.  You see, I'm waiting for her.

  How typical.

  I know.  I sound so bitter, pathetic and sorry for myself that even I'm
wondering when the violin is going to start playing.

  It's not the alcohol you know.  Well, not all of it anyway.  So, what the hell
is my problem?

  Well.  Dana finally said she'd go out with me, and believe me, I pulled out
all the stops.  We had a great time.  I laughed.  She laughed.  Sometimes we
even laughed together.

  We started dating.  Every day I marvelled at a world where this amazing woman
shared her smiles, time, and yes, kisses, with me.  Even then I had a sense of
foreboding.  Where was the catch?

  "Mark, this is my partner, Fox Mulder."

  I scull the rest of my scotch and swill the ice around in the glass moodily.

  I had known of course, within about thirty seconds, that I had no chance.  I
*knew* it, but it took a lot longer for me to admit it to myself.

  Dana and I had been going out for about a month when she finally introduced
us.  I had, of course, often heard references to her partner.  I admit, I kind
of forced the issue of introduction with the lame excuse of surprising Dana with
a lunch invitation, in person, at her office.  *Their* office.  God, that scene
is etched on the insides of my eyeballs, I'm sure of it.

  I had knocked on their office door as I began opening it.  Dana was
half-leaning, half-sitting on the desk that was the focus of the small room,
arms folded across her chest, listening intently to the man I knew must be
Mulder.  He in turn, sprawled in his chair smiling into her eyes in a way that
did to my jealousy what a slap on the nose will do for a raging bull.

  Scully had turned her head around to face me, a slight frown wrinkling her
forehead.

  "Mark?  What are doing here?"

  I had stood in the doorway, shuffling like a criminal in a police line-up. 
"I...uh...I wanted to surprise you with lunch today, Dana."  I remember the thin
smile I had managed.  "Surprise."

  "Lunch?  Yeah, I'd uh...I'd like that."  She had stood, darting a glance to
Mulder, who had been impassively appraising me since my entrance, and then
walked over to me, taking my hand and pulling me toward the desk.

  "Mark, this is my partner, Fox Mulder.  Mulder, this is Mark Donaldson."

  I had outstretched my hand.  "Hi."

  He had shaken it, never once changing his expression, and echoed my greeting. 
Once he let go of my hand, I saw his eyes flick to Dana, who seemed fascinated
by the actions of her thumbnail scratching at some invisible mark on the desk,
and then they returned to study me again.

  An uncomfortable silence had followed.  Uncomfortable as hell for _me_ anyway. 
I was finally the one to break it.

  "So, uh, what are you guys working on?"  I smiled that thin little smile
again.  I can still remember the protestations of my facial muscles.

  Mulder opened his mouth to speak, then flicked yet another glance at Dana. 
She returned it, and he saw something in her expression that made him close it
again, smirking.

  "Uh, nothing really.  Just a um...a murder case...that has come to our
attention."  Dana had said, meeting my eyes, but then looking quickly over at
Mulder again as if daring him to contradict her.  He had just smirked even more.

  More silence had invaded the room.

  Finally, Dana had cleared her throat.  "Um, we'd better get going."  She had
crossed over to the coatrack and shrugged on her coat.

  "Uh, yeah, we really should."  I made some pretense of looking at my watch. 
I'm not sure I even looked at the right wrist.

  Dana shrugged on her coat.  "Mulder?  Do you want me to pick you up anything?"

  Mulder had briefly looked at me, and I'm sure I saw something like
satisfaction in his eyes.

  "I don't think so Scully; the last time you bought lunch for me it was one of
those God-awful low-fat apricot bran muffins.  I'm still trying to get the taste
of sawdust out of my mouth."

  Dana had stopped mid-shrug and given him this look...one eyebrow went up, and
a smile tugged at the corners of her lips...sure, I know.  It doesn't sound like
a lot.  But the expression in her eyes...

  She had *never* looked at me that way.  I was beginning to get the feeling she
never would.  Not to mention that I felt like I was eavesdropping on a private
conversation.  I had feigned another look at my watch and we finally had gotten
the hell out of there, thank God.

  It was pretty much downhill from there.  Between times of seeing them
together, I could fool myself into thinking I was imagining things.  But when
they _were_ together, they always stood so closely together, and talked in such
low tones that I felt like I stood on the other side of some glass chamber that
they were in, feeling about as welcome as a sixth toe.  Don't get me wrong, it's
not like Dana did it deliberately or anything...it just always happened, like
they were obeying some unknown gravitational force that applied only to them.

  He was always touching her.  Always putting his palm at the small of her back
to guide her.  I tried that once.  Dana had arched her back away ever so
slightly.  I had apologized of course and she had said it was okay...but I never
tried it again.  The same thing with "Scully".  What the hell was that about,
anyway?  Who goes around calling people by their last names?  Although somehow,
when Mulder (God, even I do it now) called her that, it seemed like some sort of
secret password to another Dana - a Dana that replied to that name with that
achingly wonderful look in her eyes.

  So of course, I tried calling her Scully once.  More startled looks from her,
more apologising from me.

  So here I am, six months down the track.  Stitting piteously in a bar not
quite crying into my glass, but not too far from it either.  My relationship
with Dana...well, I've had enough alcohol to be brutally honest with myself. 
It's like I'm wearing someone else's suit that I borrowed without asking...even
though the fit is terrible and I know that I'm going to have to return it
eventually...but I really love it just the same.

  God, what an analogy.  Enough scotch.

  At least Bill Scully liked me.  That would almost cheer me up if I didn't know
that he liked me because I was anyone but Fox Mulder.  When I met him, he did
the same as everyone else.  Looked surprised, and them made some reference to
Mulder.  Even Dana's boss, Skinhead, or whatever the hell his name is.  I met
him with Dana and Mulder...I didn't miss the quick look he shot to Mulder when
Scully introduced me.

  Always Mulder.  Whenever I think of Dana that name comes up.  Whenever I'm
with her that name comes up.  We haven't even slept together.  Dana and I that
is.  (Definitely too much scotch).  She says she wants to take things slowly. 
Now, I'm a gentleman.  In fact, I'm one hell of an all-round understanding guy. 
But I know the real reason.

  She loves Mulder.

  There, I've said it.  Like I said, I think I've always known it.  It's just my
bad luck that she doesn't.  If she did, she would have the strength that I lack,
to put an end to this little comedy.  I don't even have the willpower to feel
jealous any more.  Oh sure, I've often pictured my fist violently introducing
itself to Fox Mulder's face, but I hardly think Dana would be wooed by it.

  Just what the hell is with that guy, anyway?  He has this amazing, sexy woman
completely crazy about him, and yet he does nothing.  What is he, stupid or
something?  I'm pretty sure he loves her (who wouldn't?).  I *know* he's
jealous.  He doesn't let it show much...just a couple of remarks here and there. 
That cheers me a little.  But not very much.  I think that I have been Fox
Mulder's wake up call.

  I should stand aside.  That would be the right thing to do.  Dana's not
happy...not _really_ happy.  As for me...I love her...and aren't I just Mr
Walking-on-Air.

  But I'll be damned if I'll just roll over like that!  "Here you are Mr.
Mulder, here is Dana, the one that you love.  I'm so happy I helped you to see
the light.  I know you'll both be very happy together."  Mulder's had his
chance.  If he was too damn stupid not to take it, that's none of my affair.

  "Mark?"

  I jump, startled, at Dana's touch on my arm.

  "Oh, hi Dana."  I fiddle with my glass, swishing the water of the melted
icecubes around.

  She takes the seat beside me.  "I've been trying to reach you on your
cell-phone..."

  I grab my phone out of my jacket.  Sure enough, the battery's flat.  I show it
to her, smiling wanly.

  "So," I said, returning my attention to my glass.  "Are we all set for
dinner?"

  Dana looks away, gazing unseeing at the bar, licking her lips.  "That's why I
was trying to reach you...that's why I'm late.  Something...something's come up
at work.  We've got to go out of town..."

  I knew the "we" was not she and me.

  I glanced around.  Sure enough, Mulder was standing several feet away, arms
folded, shifting his feet impatiently, trying to pretend he wasn't watching our
conversation.

  Dana was still talking.  "I'm really sorry, Mark.  I'll make it up to you when
we get back."

  I was silent, still intent on the swish of the water in my glass.

  "Mark?   Is that okay?"

  I sigh.  "Yeah..." she starts to rise from her seat.

  I slam my glass down.  "No."  She ceases all movement, her fatal blue-eyed
gaze swinging to mine.  "Dana..."  I take my gaze from hers, unable to take the
dawnings of hurt accusation I see there.  "I don't...I don't think we should see
each other any more." She looks away, speechless, trying to find some argument,
some rebuttal.  I quickly continue to forestall any comment that might shake my
already wavering resolve.  "It's just...I need someone who's going to be there
for me...not someone who's always rushing from one end of the country to the
other from week to week."  Again she opens her mouth to speak, and the tears
threatening to seep treacherously from her saddened gaze are almost my undoing. 
Again, I speak before she can.  "I know, that at the beginning, you told me what
your work was like...that you would be gone a lot.  I just...I just can't handle
it.  I thought I could, but I can't.  I'm sorry."

  She looks unwaveringly into my gaze for several seconds, and I wonder whether
she can see the neon sign "LIAR LIAR LIAR" that I'm sure must be flashing over
my head.  I am of course, dying on the inside, but to my relief, and also my
sorrow, I can see she is not deeply hurt...the hurt she feels is rejection, not
loss...although I doubt she knows that yet.

  Finally, she breaks the eye-contact, looking down and murmuring "Okay," softly
under her breath.  Just like that.  An uneasy silence broken only by the sound
my glass makes as I twist it on the bar top.  Again, I am the one to break it. 
"You'd uh..."  I clear my throat, praying that my strength holds out for just
five more minutes... "You'd better get going.  You don't want to miss your
flight, or whatever."

  Dana straightens slightly, and also clears her throat.  "Uh, yeah.  It leaves
in about half and hour so..."  She holds out her finely shaped hand.  "I guess
this is goodbye."

  I take it, shaking it slowly, relishing its softness for the last time. 
Silence reigns as I shake her hand, looking into her gaze, pondering the
might-have-beens.  For the last time, I break the silence.  "Goodbye, Dana."

  She holds onto my hand for a heartbeat more.  "Goodbye, Mark."  With that, she
lets go of my hand, as easily as she has let go of me.  She turns and walks
away, without once looking back, straight to him.  He has already sensed
something amiss with the conversation, and his expression exudes concern as Dana
walks toward him.  They turn and walk together a couple of steps, until he stops
and pulls her gently around to face him.  She doesn't meet his eyes, but I see
her mouth moving, and his eyes swing over to regard me quickly before returning
to his distraught partner.  After listening to her intently for a few more
seconds, he gently enfolds her into a hug, which she quickly molds into, holding
him as if she never intends to let him go.  His eyes flick once more to me, and
something in their expression tells me he's not going to let her get away again.

  I toss several notes onto the bar, including a generous tip, grab my jacket
and head towards the exit.  I allow myself one more brief look before I leave. 
They still stand locked together, unheeding of the world around them.  No, Fox
Mulder is definitely not going to make the same mistake again.

Lucky bastard.

                                     THE END



That Mark...what a memory he has on him!  *L*  What did Scully ever see in his
whiney ass?  *g*

I have every sympathy with the American who was so horrified by what he had read
about the effects of smoking that he gave up reading.
 - Henry G. Strauss

Often, when I am reading a good book, I stop and thank my teacher. That is, I
used to, until she got an unlisted number.
 - Unknown, 15-year-old