Title: Recollections of a Future Passed Author: XochiLuvr E-mail: xochiluvr@surfacing.com Category: Ahh... that's the kicker. Mulder-Bill Friendship! / UST/ MSR/ Post-col/ Angst/ MSM/ Babyfic/ all of the above/ none of the above. Pretty much whatever you choose to read between the lines. Archive: Ephemeral, Xemplary, Gossamer, Spooky's (I can hope, right?). I'll say yes, but all others please drop me a line so I can wave at my offspring. Spoilers: Not a one, but it's all there if you want it to be. Rating: PG-13, for a small smattering of vile verbiage. Feedback: Please, sir, may I have som'more? I feel lonely and need a fix. Flames will be printed and handed to the three legged goat... I mean puppy. Summary: "I'm... I'm not sure, really. It scares me sometimes. The past is... well, that's really all it is now. The past. That's who I was... before. Not now. Not anymore." Story Notes: This is an odd one for me, POV wise. A "fly-on-the-wall" perspective, I guess. Two separate phone calls, at two different points in the future, between the same two people, but only half the conversation. A one-sided reflection of the future as the past. Follow me so far? Come on, try it. You might like it. My manliness is at stake here. Probably more so _after_ you read it. Disclaimer: To Chris Carter, thanks for everything! Julie Newmar Author Notes at end - I'll try to keep 'em short this time. For my four ghosts of Christmas past: TN, VA, FL and GA - The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. - Shakespeare. ------------------------------ "I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know no way of judging of the future but by the past." - Patrick Henry 1736-1799 (American) On the other hand... "You can never plan the future by the past." Edmund Burke, 1729-1797 (British) ---------- Oh, hi, Bill. On assignment. You're in the military; you know how it is. Yes, a case. Even the bosses have to get out from behind their desks occasionally. Yes, Bill, I know. But we were busy every day, going out and doing stuff. We have our own jobs and family, you know. I'm sorry, too. Same old, same old. A lot of pizza, even more Chinese take-out (yes, still), a museum here and there. One day we went to Mount Vernon, to see George Washington's mansion. Picnic, tour of the grounds, whole nine yards and 8000 acres. The runt was attacked by a squirrel; she'd been taunting it with an acorn. I spent a week worried about rabies and God knows what else. She's got a tiny scar on her upper lip now; the ER doc said it should fade in a few years. She has us both kiss it better every night. She's milking it for all she can. What else? Reaming out the rookies, reading progress reports, budget proposals. Boring stuff, but it has to get done; I'm too young to retire, too old to get into another line of work. Life's a bitch, right? I know, yes, the doctor said to take it easy. You sound like your mom. I miss her, too. I just don't feel like taking it easy. Not just yet, but soon, maybe. I still get that itch, like if I stay still everything will just pass me by. Yes, that's why we haven't been accessible. We haven't even checked our personal email much. All this technology, and I still have to go outside every morning to get the paper. Just helping to write the memoirs. We're considering trying to get it published someday. What? Wait, wait a sec... lemme move away from the kids before I go deaf. - Kessie, I'm on the phone. - Could you repeat that? No! We haven't tried to avoid you. It's just... I know. Look. You remember how you and I met, right? Exactly. I can't help it. What I mean is, I guess I've kind of... No, that's not it. Hmm. No, not that either. It's not you, it's just strange, you and I talking like this, you know? You're damn right, I sound crazy. For a while there... never mind. No, not you; well, maybe in part. All the the ways you and I were so similar back then. How much we hated each other. Ha-ha. Thanks for letting me know how you _really_ feel about me. Yes! Precisely. Did Tara tell you she called a few weeks ago? I'm sorry. When I heard... Yeah, we were out of the country. We always hoped you guys could work it out. Yeah, me too. The rugrats are screaming for dinner, and the little woman's on an important slice and dice; I gotta go. Thanks. You should come and visit some time, the kids miss their Uncle Billy. You too. ---------- Hey, Bill. Uh... well, yeah, you heard right. I'm sorry... we wanted to wait, make sure everything was going smoothly before we spread the word. I don't know how they found out; I was under the impression they gave up hacking years ago. Old habits, I guess. Don't tell her I told you, but she's even more beautiful now, even if she _is_ beginning to refer to herself as an upright bovine. No, that's over, thank God. Yeah, same thing; fainting, nausea, the whole deal. We're getting pretty good at calling the signs, though they're certainly obvious enough, I suppose. It's starting to pass now, though, but she still won't get anywhere near me. Says my "scent" makes her queasy, but I guess not queasy enough to not ask me to bring her pickles and orange sherbet at three in the morning. Yeah. Now that I'm retired, I've got a lot more time to write, and I've kinda taken over as the homemaker. The neighbor across the way calls me a "house-mouse." I guess it's better than "Mister Mom." You didn't hear? Yeah... my heart just wasn't in it anymore. By the end it was just a job. I had everything I ever wanted at home, so I felt as though I didn't have to keep at it anymore. Yup, she's got my old job, at least until she's too huge to get out of bed in the morning. I don't know either. I mean, we've more than enough money; I guess now that most of the weasels on the Hill have been thrown to the wolves, she's resuscitated her patriotic spirit. I'm still young enough consult on a few without being laughed at too often, and we discuss things all the time, but for me it's over. Just a hobby now. Yeah, I show up once in a while. Like a ghost, every couple of weeks. I hear some of the agents whisper about Ol' Spooky. Did you hear? The whole building's a National Historic site. They voted to let the rules slide in this instance. My... *our* old office is a museum, now. They give walking tours. They're building a fucking _library_ in Quonochontaug. It's gonna ruin the entire area. I actually fought it, but they ignored me. Some things never change. I'm... I'm not sure, really. It scares me sometimes. The past is... well, that's really all it is now. The past. That's who I was... before. Not now. Not anymore. I think that's why I've distanced myself from the whole situation... Shit, look at the time. I'm late for soccer practice. I know. Uh-huh, all the time. Sure, send the clippings. Scully'll love to have 'em. Yeah, we're still doing that. It's as if we're operating under some kind of peace treaty, even after all these years. I have to abide by the rules or be called Fox in public. The kids're still ribbing me about the last time she did that. In the middle of the Mall on the 4th of July, no less. The only time she lets me call her Dana nowadays, is... well... Yeah, I didn't think you wanted to hear about that. Hey, you! Do I _look_ like a punching bag? No, Bill, but thanks for the vote of confidence anyway. I gotta run. Momma bear'll have my you-know-what if I don't get them to practice, and I still have three pairs of shoes to find, let alone tie, including my own. Yeah. Bye. --------------------------------- Additional notes: Yes, p-a-s-s-e-d, not past. Spelling is correct. If you've read any of my other fic, you'll probably notice I usually try to control everything in my writing... I don't leave all that much to the reader's imagination, even if I do try to make them think. I think it's the Russian in me, but it only comes through in my writing - my life is a complete mess. :-P This was my attempt to leave as much as possible up to you. Just because I write mushy stuff doesn't make me less of man, right? RIGHT? ... anyone? please? Lie if you have to! Anyway, I'd love to hear from you. Liked, hated it, wanna swap recipes, whatever, *please* send feedback to xochiluvr@surfacing.com Did I just mention cooking? Oh, man, I just went from bachelor to weenie. Ok, so I was a weenie before, but still... I'd like to thank Calli who pointed out the fact that I tend to get so into _thinking_ when I'm on a writing tear I tend to actually omit words entirely as I type. Some things even spell check can't fix. I'd also like to thank Merlin, simply because every time he sends me a new installment of Maturity to edit, my writer's block miraculously disappears (for you fans, I'm about halfway done on the edit). As always, apparently, no betas were harmed (or even used) in the writing of this story. Blame me. Finally, I'd like to apologize to all of you (okay, all three of you) who asked me to do more Scully characterizations. This started as a bro/sis conversation, but... well... I had to do what I know. At least he *caught* the windmill this time.