TITLE: Celebration (1/1) AUTHOR: Avalon EMAIL: avalon@fuse.net RATING: PG for minor language SPOLIERS: Post-Requiem, but really nothing CATEGORY: S KEYWORDS: Doggett POV (but please give it a chance!), a little bit of angst DISCLAIMER: No, they don't belong to me. They are Chris', plain and simple. No infringement intended. By the way, Happy Birthday to you, too, Chris. FEEDBACK: Always welcomed and responded to, thanks. ARCHIVE: Spooky's, Gossamer, Ephemeral, always, but if you aren't one of those, please tell me where you are putting it so I can come visit. SUMMARY: Scully gets a surprise on Mulder's birthday. AUTHOR'S NOTES: At the end, as usual. Celebration It's late in the afternoon by the time I get back to the office. It has been a long day, chasing down leads on this wacko werewolf case we are looking into, and I have had quite a fun-filled morning interviewing witnesses who more and more seem to me like they should be telling their stories on the Jerry Springer show. I left Scully in the basement, insisting that she stay to fill out the paperwork and expense reports from our last investigation, the equally wacko killer bee incident that turned out to be nothing more than a bunch of high college students who had watched "The Swarm" one too many times. She looks so tired lately, the porcelain of her skin darkening to a bruised color under her eyes, and when she raises them to me, registering nothing short of the pierced pain there, I can't help but look away. I know she misses her partner. I know I can't fill his shoes. I'm not really sure I want to, actually. I'd just as soon leave all these unsolved cases just the way they are: unsolved. I find myself on days like this wishing more and more frequently for reassignment, to Terrorism, or to Violent Crimes, or to any other division, just as long as I would never have to set foot inside this basement office again. But then I think of Scully, and I feel the sympathy for her well up inside me. And I know I will stay, just to try to help her. I know I am completely different than Mulder. I know many people see me as hard-boiled and unfeeling, but that is simply not the case. True, I don't have a tendency to pontificate or rail against my superiors, as I have heard Agent Mulder was wont to do. I tend to be skeptical, especially of all of this so-called phenomena that Scully and I investigate, which I am certain Mulder accepted without a doubt. Believe me, his reputation definitely preceded him. But Scully is a doctor, and from what I can see, a damn good detective, and she approaches everything herself with a healthy dose of "prove it to me." But she also believes strongly in the work that she and Mulder have done over their seven years together, and she certainly believes that he didn't just run off for an unannounced holiday. She believes that he was taken by someone, or something, and that he is being held against his will, even though we haven't found a scrap of evidence to support that. And to make it worse, A.D. Skinner backs her up, even though he has been threatened by his superiors to maintain silence about the whole idea. This makes me suspicious, yes...but I'm really in no position to question it. I just don't have enough hard facts to pursue it any further. But to my surprise, Scully has been easy to work with, apart from the initial difficulties we encountered when we first met. She has accepted me pretty much for what I am: another agent just trying to do his job. Although she has made it quite clear that her personal life and feelings are not open for discussion, she has been willing to share the office and the work with me, just so long as I don't sit at Mulder's desk. And that is where she is sitting now, staring down at it as if she is caught in some kind of spell. I can see that Mulder's case file is open before her as I swing in and loop my overcoat onto a branch of the coat tree next to the door. She has it out at least once a day, poring over it again and again, as if sheer repetition will bring to light some fact that she may have missed the last time she reviewed it. But she is not looking at the file. She is staring at something else on the desk, something that I can't quite see beyond the stapler and the telephone until I step all the way up to the edge. A cupcake. Chocolate, by the look of it beneath the paper shell covering it, topped with white icing. Garnished with an unlit candle. I smile tentatively as she looks up at me. "Great. I got back just in time for an afternoon snack." Scully's eyebrows are knitted together, her forehead creased significantly beneath the red sheen of her hair. "Doggett," she says, her voice sounding strained, "did you put this here?" "What?" "This cupcake." She nods at it and then looks back at me. Her expression doesn't change. "I just got here, Scully. You've been sitting here the whole time." She turns her eyes back to the cupcake on the desk, and I notice a frown creeping onto her face to match the furrows above her eyebrows. "No, I was here most of the day, but Skinner called me into his office for about fifteen minutes. I just got back right before you walked in. I sat down, and it was here." I turn and go back to my trench coat to retrieve my notebook from the pocket. "Well, maybe you have a secret admirer who wants to woo you with chocolate." She doesn't smile at my attempt at humor. I have noticed over the months that Scully doesn't smile much at all. But I do hear her murmur, "Maybe." It surprises me, and when I look back at her from rifling through my notes, I see that she is rubbing her eyes like a child who is tired but unable to say so. I cross back to the desk and stand there before it, feeling helpless again, as I often do when I am around her. "Scully, what's wrong?" I glance at the cupcake, somehow knowing there is more here than she is saying. "What's going on?" She sighs. "I have no idea." She pushes back from the desk and stands, stretching her neck in a few different directions as she does so. "I'm just a little confused about the cupcake." "Well, what's the big deal?" I ask, starting to get a little exasperated. I just don't see why she should be so concerned. "Maybe it's somebody's birthday, and someone in the bullpen brought it down here for you. You weren't here, so they left it. End of story." She looks at me, the brow above her right eye arching in that definitive Scully look that she gets right before she pins you, squirming, to the wall. "Did they pull out Mulder's case file for me and leave it there, too?" I shoot a look back over at the file on the desk. "You weren't looking at it? I just assumed--" "No, I haven't had it out at all today. The only thing I have been working on are those damn expense reports." I pause a moment, thinking, the gears in my head rumbling through their motions and coming up with nothing. So I shrug. "You must've pulled it accidentally when you got out some other files and not noticed it before this." She crosses her arms in front of her chest, a defensive gesture, and I know this is leading to an argument. And I sigh inwardly, not wanting to fight with her. What the hell is she getting so worked up about? It's just a stupid cupcake, for Christ's sake! "No," she says quietly, and my even temper starts its downhill skid. It doesn't take much after the rewarding day I have had so far. I slap my notebook down on the corner of the desk and throw my hands up in the air. I know I must look like an idiot, but at this point, I just don't care. "Jesus, Scully, is this how it is always going to be?" I ask, my voice rising. "Everything that happens in your life has some weird, paranormal meaning?" Scully stands there staring at me, her blue eyes steely in their gaze. "No, Doggett," she answers, and I am surprised at how calm she sounds. "It just seems a little odd to me that someone has brought me a cupcake on Mulder's birthday, complete with what appears to be a birthday candle in it." My hands fall down beside my hips. There is silence for a minute as I stand there, my eyes locked with hers, waiting for the punch line. When I realize one is not coming, I let out a huff of breath. "It's Mulder's birthday today?" I ask, moving to the desk and scooping up the open case file. My vision runs down his data and falls on his birth date: October 13. Yes, it is indeed. She doesn't answer, knowing I have found the information already. I snap the file shut and toss it back on the desk, narrowly missing the cupcake in question. "Well, then, Scully, I would have to say that this is just someone's idea of a joke." Scully turns away from me, as if she is looking for something amid the various snapshots on the wall behind Mulder's desk. Her hands rest on her hips, but I can see that her shoulders are slumping. "Well, if that's true, it's a pretty twisted joke," she says finally, and I can hear the defeat in her voice. It is not something I hear very often from her, but I hate it already when I do. I want to go to her, to put my hand on her shoulder and offer some semblance of comfort to her. I have never lost a partner, not during my stint with the NYPD or in my years at the Bureau, so I know I don't truly understand what she must be feeling. But comfort and sympathy are not easy things to give, especially from me, and especially to this woman, who has made it crystal clear that she can handle things on her own, thanks. So instead of moving, I search my brain, trying to reach beyond my limited knowledge and my skepticism and give her something more. "Maybe it's an apport," I finally say, tasting the strange word in my mouth as if sampling a new beer at a bar. Her head swivels toward me, and I am not surprised to see that her eyes look a little brighter. Tears. I push on. "I was reading some of the files over the weekend...you know, it was so rainy and cold." I clear my throat, trying not to sound like such a pathetic loser. "In the religion of Spiritualism, they believe that spirits can manifest objects. They say that the spirits speed up the vibrations of the object in order to move it from one place, and then they slow the vibrations down so that in reappears in another place. That's what an apport is." She is looking at me with an almost amused expression on her face. "So, you are suggesting that some spirit moved this cupcake here into the office for me?" I finally see a smile break, and I am relieved. "I can't believe I am hearing this from Agent John Doggett." "Well, don't let it get out. I don't want to ruin my reputation." She gives a slight chuckle and sits again in the desk chair, facing the cupcake. I watch as her eyes cloud over once again, knowing that she is remembering, that she is thinking of Mulder. I walk behind her and reach to open one of the side drawers. She watches me closely, probably annoyed that I have actually been audacious enough to invade Mulder's space. But I fumble around and finally find what I am looking for. I open the book of matches and strike one. It springs to life, and I touch the flame on its head to the wick of the birthday candle. I crouch down next to her in the chair, my eyes on the cupcake. "Well," I say, trying not to sound sentimental and thinking I am not doing a very good job, "birthdays are supposed to be for celebrating the life of a special person, right? So here you go, Scully. It's a good time to remember him." She swallows hard, and her eyes flutter briefly. I stand and walk to the door, grabbing my notebook and my coat as I go. I turn back to her for a second. She is watching the flame on the candle, the hint of a smile on her tired face. I smile a bit, too, knowing that this is what she needs. "See you Monday, Scully," I call, and I leave the office, looking forward to watching the playoffs on TV when I get home. ***End*** AUTHOR'S NOTES: Happy Birthday, Mulder! We have not forgotten you, and we know Scully won't, either. And when the idea of having Doggett narrate this story came to me, I just went with it, knowing that I need to give this new character a chance. I hope I like him on TV as much as I liked writing him in this way in this piece. I did not check to see if there is actually a playoff game on TV tonight...if there isn't, please give me some leeway there! Hope you all enjoyed sharing this birthday experience, and I hope to see you again soon. Send me feedback: avalon@fuse.net -- "Have the Father say a few 'Hail Mulders' for me." --Fox Mulder, The XFiles "Redux II"