TITLE:  Focus 1/1
AUTHOR:  Laine
EMAIL: loislane@bright.net
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Sure, go ahead.
SPOILER WARNING: Assumes US Season 6 up to, but not including, Rain King

CONTENT WARNING: MSR - no romos (is there such a thing?) won't like this
at all.
RATING: PG-13 for a couple of naughty words, but nothing too bad.
CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR
SUMMARY:
DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully don't belong to me (DUH) If they did,
there would be no need for relationshippy fanfic. I'm only borrowing
them, I promise.
COMMENTS:  This is for all the Cyclops children, ladies with huge
glasses, and most especially, for my eviltwin, Lana, who gets to sleep
with Mulder every night. But, you'll have to ask *her* about that.
FEEDBACK: yes, please. loislane@bright.net

Focus 1/1

As he had thousands of times before, Mulder studied the faces in the
photograph, tracing each line, shape and color with a practiced eye. And
just like each time before, he felt every emotion the picture brought up
as though it were new. Fresh and raw, they bubbled constantly just below
the surface, a festering scab he was destined to pick at, even though
the small part of his mind that clung to sanity screamed at him to stop.

Sighing, he placed the frame back on his desk, taking great care to put
it exactly as it had been, allowing the lines in the dust to guide him.

The psychologist in him scoffed at this reverent placement, knowing it
was some sort of subconscious attempt to replace all that had gone wrong
in his life. As if by not disturbing the photo, he would not disturb the
perfection of that day when his mother had snapped the camera in their
direction. One last perfect summer day, with a sister he could consider
annoying without a hot stab of guilt and remorse at the thought. One
last perfect day captured forever through film and chemically enhanced
on a flimsy sheet of Kodak's best. A day forever tainted by the
bitterness of the emotions a captured image now conjured up deep inside
his soul.

Although he no longer held the frame in his hands, his eyes were
irrevocably drawn back to the happy children it pinned securely under
glass. He shifted in his chair slightly, to allow for the glare the
harsh fluorescent lighting in what passed for his office bounced off the
dusty surface.

His thoughts played tag with his emotions for awhile as he sat, head
cocked at an awkward angle, almost like a small pup discovering a new
sound. He remained still and silent, zeroing in on her face, watching
the image swirl and blur out of focus until he blinked it back into
crystal sharp clarity again. The process repeated over and over, until
he he simply closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember when he
stopped recognizing the smiling girl who kept staring back at him. He
wondered if the blur in his life would snap back into focus when he
opened his eyes.

"Mulder?"

His eyes flew open at the sound of his name spoken in the rich,
melodious tones of her voice. He heard the concern before he saw it,
embedded in the slight furrow of her brow and the questioning search of
her gaze. He straightened and looked away, motioning with his head at
the file on his desk while a whisper of a smile fluttered across his
features. One fluid motion to show he was all right, nothing at all to
worry about.

"New case, Scully. There's been another sighting," he watched her gaze
lift from the picture and follow the trail his earlier nod had marked
out for her until she noted the manila file on the desk top. His opener
gave her pause, and she glanced sideways at him.

"Sighting, Mulder? Planning another costly road trip for us?"

God, he loved the way the word 'us' sounded coming from her perfect
mouth. But, those thoughts were a distraction to the task at hand, and
he damn near prided himself on his single-minded focus to his goals.
And, at present, he considered it his foremost goal in life to see that
delicate Cupid's bow which sat upon her face stretched taught in
amusement. Scullysmiles were worth working for, and work required focus.

"Agent Scully, are you trying to make a point, here?" he parried,
reclining into his chair in an unnerving, casual fashion, legs coming
beginning to rise. He placed his left heel with an easy thump his desk,
firmly anchoring the file she was just leaning in to snatch, before
smoothly crossing his right ankle over the top.

Scully drew back slowly and narrowed her blue eyes in suspicion as they
met his sparkling hazel gaze. Her lips pursed just a bit, and he could
see her calling up her mental troops, readying herself for another
battle of wits. Queen of Rationale versus the Impulse King. He nearly
had to fight the urge to rub his palms together in childlike
expectation.

She ignored the jab and continued to eye him quizzically as she threw in
one of her own.

"Is this file in one piece,  or should I pack Scotch tape in with the
bandaging tape I always take along for you?"

Oh, the joys of a playful Scully. He swallowed his chuckle and dropped
his voice to a mockingly serious tone.

"No tapes, Scully. You know how dangerous those things can be."

She practically smirked at the gaping hole his line of defense left
unguarded.

"Dangerous? And all this time I thought those X's signified a rating."

She shot him a quick look of exasperation when he refused to take the
bait before arching an eyebrow heavenward, a sure sign it's time to
produce the goods. He let a light frown cross his face and dropped his
feet unceremoniously to the floor, leaning in quickly to scoop up the
file and take it with him as he stood.

 "Scully, this could be serious," he said, giving her time to adjust the
direction of her impending glare to his new position before plowing
ahead. "There have been several sightings of an enormous pile of manure
in eastern Texas. It's our job to investigate."

Before she could gather the indignation of being teased like a
schoolgirl, she flashed a quick grin and lowered her face as she
regained her composure. Raising her chin slowly, she bit back the rest
of her outward amusement and looked at him. His heart leapt when he saw
her eyes continued to dance, even as she schooled her features into a
nearly melodramatic seriousness.

"Well, I guess I'd better get home and pack then," she dead panned,
turning for the door.

"Yeah, plane leaves at eight," he said, then folded his limbs back into
his chair.

She paused at the door, suddenly recalling his posture when she had
first entered.

"Mulder?"

"Hmm?"

Her brow furrowed anew when he didn't turn and face her.

"Don't you need to get home?"

He began looking through drawers distractedly, waving her on with one
hand as the other rifled through a stack of papers buried in the bottom
of the lower left drawer.

"Uh, you go ahead, Scully. I just want to settle a few things here
first. I'll pick you up in the morning, around 6:30, OK?"

Scully hovered in the doorway a moment more, watching him, willing him
to turn around so she could see his eyes. When he didn't make a move
toward that end, she sighed in resignation and acquiesced to his
suggestion.

Just as the door clicked softly shut behind her, Mulder stumbled upon
his prize. He lifted the picture carefully, mindful of the charring that
surrounded the heart of the image. His swiped some soot from the faces
and took a long, hard look.

Scully's shining, red gold hair gleamed in the light provided by the
flash. They were facing each other at sort of an odd angle, he noticed,
and he held a file firmly in hand. Undoubtedly, from the way Scully's
head was tilted and her arms were crossed over her chest, he had once
again been spewing off what amounted to insanity in her mind.

At one point, the picture was of normal proportions, snapped quickly by
that secretary in VCS whom even *he* could presume to call odd. And that
almost didn't cover it. Just before Christmas three years ago the
nutball had brought a camera in and went around snapping pictures like
the paparazzi. She stuck all the prints in different Christmas-card
frames and gave them out as gifts at the annual holiday party. Of
course, he and Scully had foregone their invitations to that, and all
other, little bureau investigations into the social realm. But, the
picture in it's little "Happy Holidaze" frame was sitting proudly on his
desk the next morning. True to form, he'd made some wise-assed comment
about it and left it untouched in front of Scully, who had given it a
quick once over.

He had intended to throw it out, until he saw that little smile that had
fleetingly graced her features when she looked at it. And of course, he
was sunk. It earned that goofy-ass woman's card a spot of honor on the
bulletin board, just left of the long gone, but not forgotten, poster
that had adorned his office since the day he'd picked it up on M Street.

That annoying little picture had been one of the first things he'd
salvaged when the bastards burned their office, and he'd all but
forgotten about it again, until today. Until Scully folded her arms
neatly over her chest and looked over at him with an expression halfway
between exasperation and complete shock. And maybe, just maybe, a hint
of something else.

He foraged again through his desk drawers until he came up with a pair
of decent scissors and then went to work, carefully trimming away the
charred edges. When he was finished, the photo was thinner, but none the
worse for wear. Just to keep things nice and even, he went so far as to
trim away the useless space invariably captured at the top of an image.

Should make it just about right, he thought, grabbing for the frame
already on his desk. He slid the picture toward the bottom, atop the
glass, pushing it firmly into the edges of of the frame. It tucked
neatly into the bottom corner without covering display's original
residents, smiling children of a forgotten age of happiness.

He studied the frame's new inhabitants, or more specifically, the image
of his partner, frozen forever in a constant battle of wits with his own
countenance. Although each curve of her face was already committed to
his perfect memory, he let his eyes linger on her full lips, pursed just
a tad in consternation. His gazed wandered to the arch in her brow and
the tiny furrow it caused in the center of her forehead before dropping
lower to the azure eyes that softened just a bit around the edges, just
because she was looking at him.

He focused in on her eyes, allowing the rest of the image to blur
slightly in his field of vision. These were the eyes of a healer, a
confidante, a friend and a partner. These were the eyes of understanding
and love. These were Scully's eyes, and his world, he realized, was in
constant focus as long as he could see himself through *them.*

There would be time, more time, for chasing the conspiracy, finding the
answers, and making those responsible pay, he knew. There would be time,
eventually, for making sense of what he had given his life over to, and
probably time for wondering if it was the best choice. But there would
never be time, there would never be focus, without Scully.

And it was was past time for her to know.

Mission one had been accomplished today. It was time for mission two.

Making a quick grab for his coat, he set the frame back in place and
headed for the door. As he reached out for the light, his hand froze in
mid-air and he changed direction, striding purposely back toward the
desk. His fingers grazed the top of the frame and he turned it, just a
quarter of an inch to the right, so that it was unsettled and out of
place. Mulder tilted his head to the side slightly and grinned, then
headed once more for the door, intently focused on yet another goal.

END

Thought of making this into a little series - what do you think?
Feedback to loislane@bright.net