Title: Background Noise (1/1) (X-mas Fic) Author: Anna L. (aka Looka Bloom) Category: SA, M/S friendship, implied hanky-panky Rating: G Spoilers: Cancer-arc, Duane Barry, etc. Keywords: Mulder/Scully, Bill Scully, Margaret Scully Summary: Even Bill can't steal Christmas... Disclaimer: Title swiped from Luka Bloom's album, "Turf". If you don't own it, there's something wrong with you. This is a little ... whatever ... that I came up with one day and just now got around to writing down. It's kinda silly, schmoopy but in a family sort of way, heartwarming like the Charlie Brown Christmas special. Fans of Angry Bill Scully should bail out now, his black heart turns a soft pink in this one. Background Noise By Anna L. Their expressions were those of guilty teenagers, standing a little too close together on the front porch as her father opens the front door. Only it wasn't her father but her mother, and they were hardly teenagers, though Margaret Scully could see the faintest glint of childlike glee in their eyes as they lifted them to meet her gaze. "There you are!" she exclaimed, opening her arms to her daughter. "Hi, Mom," Scully mumbled into her shoulder. "Sorry I'm late." "Merry Christmas, sweetheart." Margaret disregarded the apology. Instead she released Scully and focused on her partner. "Hello, Fox." The arms came open again, and Mulder instinctively moved into them. "Merry Christmas to you, too." "Thanks, Mrs. Scully," he said, stepping back. "I'm sorry... uh, Scully, uh, asked me if I'd-" The excuse trailed off as her face darkened into a scolding frown. "Get in the house." Mulder ducked his head. "Yes, ma'am." ---- Bill Scully absently tapped a finger against the side of his beer can. On the television, Emeril Lagasse was kicking eggnog up a few notches with Cajun spices. Bill had heard the doorbell and his mother's happy voice wafting down the hallway, which meant that Dana had -- finally -- arrived. Extra footsteps in the foyer meant she wasn't alone. He looked up as Mulder entered the room behind Dana. Through the chorus of greetings, Bill nodded at Mulder. "Hey." "Hey," Mulder returned the gesture. Bill surprised himself. The last time he'd seen Mulder, he'd felt a deep, thundering anger, banging against his ribs to get out. He'd let it escape through harsh words directed at his sister's partner in a hospital hallway, and it had, temporarily, made him feel better. Now, though, the anger wasn't there. Just a sense of confusion and, though he'd never admit it, hurt. He didn't know why. He saw his mother moving into the kitchen and went to follow her. "Oh, Bill honey, will you hand me that oven mitt?" She waved her hand toward the counter. He passed her the mitt and leaned against the fridge, watching her poke and prod at the bird in the oven. "Mom..." "It's strange, isn't it?" she said, closing the oven door and taking off the mitt. "Having him here." "You feel it too?" he asked. She nodded, a faint Mona Lisa smile on her lips. "Of course I do, honey. I felt the same way the first time you brought Tara home, and the first time I met Fannette." Fannette was Charlie's wife, from Paris. "It's always strange the first time you add someone to the family." "You consider Mulder to be family?" he asked, gently. Margaret shrugged. "Sometimes. He's not an easy person to like, but from what I've seen, I do like him." She studied her eldest son. "What about you?" "I don't know," Bill sighed. "I really don't. It was easier when I could hate him... I blamed him for what happened to Dana, everything that's happened to her." "Blame is a handy thing," Margaret said, quietly. "You have something to focus your energy on so you don't feel the hurt so much." She stirred something in a pot. "You know," she said, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. "I used to blame him, too." Bill blinked. "You did?" Margaret sighed. "When Dana disappeared I wanted so much to give it meaning. I wanted to point at someone and say, 'It's their fault.' I blamed everyone, Bill. I blamed myself, first. I blamed your father, for not supporting her decision to join the FBI..." "Mom, she was kidnapped. How could it possibly be your or Dad's fault?" "I didn't care that she'd been abducted or whatever. She was gone, and there's so many reasons for some one to be gone..." She tapped her finger against the counter, absently. "I blamed God, too. And Fox. Especially when Missy was killed and I couldn't get any answers from anyone about what had happened. That's when I started blaming Dana." "You blamed Dana?" Bill was incredulous. "Of course I did! She joined the FBI, she made the decision to continue to work with Mulder, despite everything. But that's when I realised, hon, that trying to find that one person to place all the blame on is impossible. There's just too many people involved." "Throw a rock in the air and you're bound to hit someone guilty," he muttered, repeating a phrase he'd heard somewhere. "I guess that's why when Mulder came in I didn't feel angry." "You didn't?" Margaret asked. "No. I really didn't. I mean, I used to. It made me happy, which is just weird. But after Dana got better, I couldn't help the doubts." "About?" Bill took a deep breath. "Like, maybe that thing he had them put back in her neck *was* what made her go into remission. I can't be certain if it was or wasn't, and that makes it hard to hate him." Margaret nodded. "I can understand that..." "And there's also the fact that Dana is so close to him." "She loves him." Margaret smiled. "I know. And when I got off my high horse long enough to realise how much time he spent in the hospital with her, I figured out that he loves her too." Bill frowned. "There's something else, too..." "What?" Bill swallowed. "Dana once told me that Mulder looks out for her when they're on cases and it makes her nuts, because, well you know her, Mom. She wouldn't let me help her with ANYTHING." "She's very independent." "Yeah. But apparently Mulder doesn't put up with it. And... I like that." Margaret smiled. "I do too." "I like that someone is looking out for her, because I can't be there to do it." Bill grunted. "That must be where ..." Margaret waited for him to finish his sentence. "Where what, honey?" "Nothing." "William..." "Mom..." They stared each other down. Bill made a face. "It hurts a little, ok?" he mumbled after a moment. "I miss being her big brother." "I'm sure she misses it too," Margaret says, touching his arm. "Everyone grows up, Bill. You're not so big of a brother now. And I think Dana's looking for something else..." "I know she is." Bill smiled, and it felt good. "I think she's found it, too. She's really made up her mind on this Mulder guy. Any family discord it causes is just background noise." He snorted. "She trusts him more than us, sometimes, I think." Margaret touched his arm again. "It's hard to watch her get close to someone who's not you," she said, gently. "It was hard when I realised there were things you tell Tara that you don't tell me. It's hard that Charlie seems to rely on Fannette more than me. Dana's beginning to do that, now. She doesn't come to me for much anymore..." Margaret breathed. "You know, he was the first one she told about her cancer?" Bill whistled, quietly. "Does Charlie even know?" "I'm not sure. I haven't said anything to him, really. I've left it up to Dana." "She's weird," Bill said, after a silence. Margaret chuckled. "She is. You're all weird and I love you all dearly. But..." "But?" "Your weird self is in my way. Go play." "Mom-" "Go. I can't be a wonderful hostess with you around. You cramp my style." "And you wonder where we get it from," Bill smirked. He dove out of the way as his mother swatted him with the oven mitt. -- Bill returned to the living room in time to break up a debate between his lovely wife and his lovely sister over the current political climate. "Monica is a whore," Tara spat. "Clinton lied!" Dana thumped the arm of the couch. "If you're going to fight," Bill said. "At least have the courtesy to go outside and roll around in the mud." The two women howled and flung throw pillows at him, and he ducked, laughing. He sat down on the sofa, between his sister and Mulder, who was watching Emeril, intently. "This guy cracks me up," Bill said, after a moment. "Did you see his fireman special?" "No," Mulder says. "I missed that, but I saw the ads." "It was great. An audience full of firefighters and cops. Very loud." Mulder laughed. They sat in silence, watching the television. Bill looked at Mulder. "Want a beer?" Mulder nodded. "Sure, thanks." Bill rose to go into the kitchen. He caught Dana's eye. She regarded him oddly, as if she'd never seen him before. Somewhere in there, though, was gratitude. He nodded and went to the fridge. He returned with a beer which he tossed to Mulder. "Merry Christmas," he said with a smile. Mulder smiled. "Thanks." [End] Feedback is a Burren blue sky. Let all the flames leave these shores now never to return.