TITLE: The Cross Connection
AUTHOR: jeri
E-MAIL: ggal1116@yahoo.com OR agentjeri@thexfiles.com
WEBSITE: http://www.geocities.com/jeris_basement/index.html
RATING: PG
CATEGORY: VRA, Ma-POV
KEYWORDS: MSR, ScullyAngst, MaggieAngst, pre-ep
SPOILERS: um, based on info about the S8 Premiere
ARCHIVE: Sure, just drop me a line!
STARTED: September 4, 2000
FINISHED: September 5, 2000

SUMMARY: Based on that TV Guide photo; you know, the one 
where Scully's talking to Doggett and *wearing her 
cross*!!!!! I'm making lemons out of lemonade.

TIMELINE: From all I've heard about this ep, it takes 
place in June, but since that's impossible (unless we've 
got some new months I've never heard of) I'm placing this 
where it belongs: in early August! (Hmm. Eerie similarity 
to Duane Barry, don't'cha think?)

**DISCLAIMER: Well, CC's not playing very nicely with 
them right now, is he? And continuity is 9/10ths of the 
law. Well it should be.

DEDICATION: To the gals at the future Touchstone archive 
(aka those wackos in the MSRficSupportGroup). Rorie (got 
it right!) suggested a vignette, so here's what I got!

^*^*^

There's something she's not telling me. I'm a mother. 
I may not know what she's hiding, but I know she's hiding 
something. I think it has something to do with Fox, but 
I could be wrong about that.

Who'm I kidding? Of course it's about Fox. The love of 
her life has just up and disappeared! I know that there's 
more to the story than she's telling me.

Like why she was in the hospital two nights ago. She 
doesn't know that I know that, but Mr. Skinn--um, Walter 
let it slip that she hadn't been feeling well lately. 
Normally I wouldn't worry that she hadn't told me; I'd 
assume that she'd overreacted, or someone else had, and 
there was no real reason for her stay there.

But this is Dana. Dana, who waited days before telling 
me she had cancer. Dana, who always tried to go to school 
with 102-degree fevers, especially if she had a test.

Dana, my baby girl.

I've convinced her to come out to lunch with me today. 
She went back to work three days ago, and Walter called 
yesterday telling me that she's barely been out of the 
building since he let her in. His threats don't work 
against her anymore. Apparently, the same was true for 
Fox when Dana was missing.

And I made Fox come out with me then, too. Funny how 
similar our conversations will be.

I'm waiting for her at the spot she chose; the spot that 
Fox chose all those years ago. I'm on a bench by the 
Potomac and Jefferson Memorial. I assume this particular 
bench holds special meaning for them. Nothing Dana does 
will be without meaning now, not until he's returned.

He *will* come back. Of this I am positive.

I see her now, walking toward me with an almost reverential 
step. This bench is holy to her. I'm sitting on the side 
that Fox took that time. He took it naturally, so I suppose 
that's the order they always sat down in. I'll let her 
take her own place today.

Without a word she lowers herself, once again with an air 
of respect toward the area.

"Hi Dana," I say softly, lamenting my need to break the 
peace.

"Hi Mom." Her response is uncharacteristically detached. 
I slid a bit closer to her, trying to make a connection 
to her deeply buried soul.

"Dana..." Her head turns to meet my gaze. Finally, a 
spark of recognition glows in her muted irises.

"Oh...Mom..." she sobs, leaning into my shoulder. My arm 
naturally falls around her, cocooning my baby safely in 
my protective bubble.

"Shhh....It's going to be okay, Dana. It'll all be okay, 
you'll see. He'll be back before you know it..."

Her head snaps back up, and her intense look almost scares 
me. "How long, Mom? How long do you think it'll be? A 
week? A month? Six months? Mom, please don't tell me you 
think it'll be more than six months....God, I need him 
back so bad..."

Her urgency is expected, of course, but I again get the 
feeling that she hasn't told me the whole truth. "Well, 
you were only gone three months, Dana. Is that a good 
timetable to judge by?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Everything's different now. 
But the longer he's gone, the more...the chance that 
something will go wrong..."

And she's crying again. I haven't seen her cry this hard 
in a long time. I smooth down her hair with a mother's 
caress, and I see her hand playing at the hollow of her 
neck.

Time to do what I came here to do.

"Dana, six years ago," I pause, realizing it's almost 
six years to the day. What an odd coincidence. "When 
you were gone, I called Fox and asked him to pick a 
place where I could meet with him. He chose this same 
bench. I just wanted to talk, mostly about you, about 
sharing our memories. He handed me your cross. I told 
him to keep it so he could give it back to you." Her 
hand freezes its unconscious motions.

"I know you gave Fox your cross, Dana. Walter told me. 
I guess Fox told him why he was suddenly wearing your 
necklace. That was a beautiful gesture, Dana, and I'm 
sure it will bring him back to you. But until that 
happens, you'll be without your faith."

"Mom..."

I hold up a hand to hush her. I must finish my piece, 
then she can try to rebut all that I've said.

I pull out something from my pocket, and I offer it to 
her. "Take this, Dana." I open my hand, revealing a very 
familiar gold cross necklace. "This was Melissa's. When 
she turned away from the church, she sent this to me, 
telling me to use it to pray for her soul." I chuckle 
in memory of that silly conversation. "She would want 
you to have your faith, Dana. And I know it doesn't just 
symbolize your faith in God, but your faith in Fox to 
bring its mate back to you. Wear it, please?"

Carefully, as though she is afraid it's not real, she 
takes it from my hand, watching as it reflects and bends 
the sunlight.

"Thank you," she finally responds, her voice small. She 
sounds almost guilty, and it occurs to me that I finally 
might hear the last bit of the puzzle that's been stuck 
in the box all this time.

"Mom, it's, um, it's funny you should mention symbols 
of faith. Faith is often embedded in love, isn't it?"

Though the question would normally be rhetorical, I sense 
her need for me to confirm this belief. "Of course, Dana. 
One cannot have faith in something, or someone, one does 
not love."

She licks her lips lightly, a smile teasing at the corners 
of her mouth. "Well, have I got a symbol for you..."

THE END

^*^*^

4 out of 5 doctors say expressing your enjoyment of a 
fanfic to its author increases your life expectancy 
23-23.8 years. The other doctor was killed by Cancerman 
before we could ask him.

jeri, president, xpab: x-philes against bees
Join by writing to: kill_em_all@thexfiles.com OR
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