Sorry
      by Cratkinson
      e-mail: cratkinson@mail.com
      Archive: Yes, please just let me know.
      Feedback: Please!
      Spoilers: Nothing at all
      Rating: G (although I should put NC-17, just to get readers! ;))
      Classification: V, A
      Keywords: Vignette, a tiny bit of Angst (Matilda, did you catch that?), 
      Mulder POV, Maggie Scully
      Disclaimer: These characters are the property of 1013 Productions and Fox 
      Television and are not mine in any way.

      NOTES: I think I've had an overdose of Guilty!Mulder and Perfect!Scully 
      lately. I've always loved characterizations of Scully that show us a 
      strong, independent woman. However, Mulder does have a tendency toward 
      guilt, so I thought I'd give him a little food for thought. And a way to 
      cut himself a little slack. Besides, it seems like there might be a 
      certain personality type that would choose their profession. 

      THANKS: Mega super thanks to Mimic117 and Sdani for speedy and insightful 
      beta. And for forgiving me for accidentally omitting these thanks on my 
      first posting. They are wonderful, incredible, amazing, stupendous, and 
      fantastic. (Will that convince you to put away the frozen torture device, 
      Sdani? Please?)
      And as always, thanks to Flynn for constant support and happy-making 
      feedback.



      ~~~~~~~~~~~
      Sorry
      by Cratkinson
      ~~~~~~~~~~~


      "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Scully." He felt even more guilty, now that she'd 
      arrived.

      She walked across the small waiting room and sat down next to him in one 
      of the surprisingly comfortable chairs. "Sorry for what, Fox?"

      He raised his eyes to hers, but couldn't maintain the contact. "For..." He 
      spread his hands and then dropped them again. "For getting her into this 
      mess. Again."

      There was silence between them for a moment and then a small exhale of 
      breath that quickly turned into a chuckle. Mulder looked up from his study 
      of the floor between his shoes and watched in wary surprise as Maggie 
      laughed quietly. He wasn't sure what he'd said that was funny, but he 
      hoped she'd share the joke. "Oh, Fox," she said, her tone indulgent.

      "Has Dana told you about her childhood? I'm guessing you haven't heard 
      many stories, have you?" He mutely shook his head. "Yes, I know. She 
      really likes to create a certain image of herself in her younger years. 
      It's a nice image - strong, loving family, adoring father, overbearing 
      brothers, silly sister. And all of that is true. Really. But it's not 
      exactly the complete picture."

      She looked across the room, but he didn't think she was seeing the 
      tasteful prints. Finally, she looked back over at him and smiled. 

      "Dana was . . . really, from the time she was a toddler, Dana was our most 
      challenging child." Okay, that wasn't what he expected. Our most 
      kind-hearted child, maybe. Our most brilliant child. Our most perfect 
      child. Challenging? She went on. "When she was tiny - in fact, I think 
      she'd just learned to walk - she dragged a packing box over to the front 
      door of our new house and opened the door. I swear she was only gone for 
      30 seconds before I noticed. I called for her and looked around the house, 
      but couldn't find her. I looked in closets, all the rooms, empty boxes, 
      everywhere I could think. It never even occurred to me that she could get 
      outside. 

      "After a couple of minutes of panic, there was a knock on the door. My 
      brand new neighbor was standing there with a very disapproving look on her 
      face, holding Dana. She told me she'd picked her up from the middle of an 
      intersection three blocks away! That neighbor never did forgive me. We had 
      to put a chain on the door - not to keep anyone out, but to keep Dana in!" 
      She shook her head. "I should have known then. But I thought it was a 
      fluke.

      "When she was seven, she got a hand-me-down bicycle from her older sister 
      when Melissa got a new 10-speed. Dana didn't want the old bike, she wanted 
      a new one. So she packed her pillowcase with important things and ran away 
      - on Missy's new bicycle. It was much too big for her and she couldn't 
      control it. She got about two miles away and crashed into a ditch. A woman 
      driving past saw her and took her to the emergency room, where they cast 
      her broken arm. But when they tried to contact us . . . " A fit of what he 
      might have described as giggles in anyone else interrupted her narrative, 
      but she got control quickly. "When they tried to find out her name in 
      order to contact us, she . . . she gave them a false name." This time she 
      burst out laughing and Mulder could feel himself grinning at the image of 
      a solemn red-haired 7-year-old, lying to the hospital staff about her own 
      name. 

      "She constantly dared her brothers into trying dangerous stunts. If a 
      house in the neighborhood got egged, she was the first suspect. When she 
      was eleven, she was caught by the MPs soaping rude comments on the base 
      commander's windows. She was the first kid on the block to sneak her dad's 
      beer to her friends. She organized a school sit-in to protest the unfair 
      dress code that wouldn't allow her to have green hair. When she was 
      thirteen, she was picked up by the highway patrol in her dad's car. You 
      have no idea the contortions we had to go through to get her released 
      without a mark on her record. She couldn't even see over the steering 
      wheel!" Maggie shook her head. 

      "She wasn't a hellion, though. She was kind and funny and a perfect 
      student. She was ambitious and so smart. But she always, always had to do 
      things her own way. When she joined the FBI, her dad and I were surprised 
      at the choice, but not at the fact that she had chosen an unusual path. 
      That was completely normal for our Dana.

      "I guess what I'm telling you, Fox, is that no matter what you did or said 
      . . . no matter how much you wanted Dana to be where she was today . . . 
      no matter what – if she hadn't wanted to be there, she wouldn't have been. 
      And if you had tried to stop her going, you would have been exactly as 
      successful as I always have been." She put her hand out and smoothed the 
      rumpled hair over his ear. "Not at all."

      Just then, a nurse came toward them, pushing Scully in one of the 
      ubiquitous hospital wheelchairs. 

      "Mulder," Scully said, "I thought you were going home." He just shrugged 
      at her. She started to get up from the chair, but was stopped by the 
      nurse's gentle hand on her shoulder. 

      "I'm sorry, Dana, but I have to take you all the way to the exit," she 
      said quietly. 

      "Can I push her?" Mulder asked the nurse, and at her nod, stepped behind 
      his partner. "You okay, Scully? What did they say?" 

      She tipped her head back to see him over her shoulder and said, "It's just 
      a sprain. I told you I didn't need to come in here." She didn't seem too 
      angry, though. Just a little impatient to be gone. They'd each spent 
      enough time in hospitals for him to understand that sentiment. 

      He said, "Well let's get out of here, then." She turned back around and he 
      gripped the handles of the chair. He looked up at Maggie just then and 
      caught her eye with a smile. ~Thank you~, he mouthed to her. She just 
      smiled and turned toward the door, holding it open for the group.

      "Mulder, remind me never to let you talk me into chasing a suspect through 
      a frozen, gopher-hole riddled field again, okay?" She sounded at once 
      petulant and amused. He caught Maggie's eye as they pushed through the 
      doorway and winked at her. 

      "Sorry, Scully."


      ~~~~~

      End, Sorry