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cotecoyotegrrrl · 4 months

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Once Upon A Time - Still Kind Of Beautiful

Not exactly a holiday story

Sorry it's taken me so long to post the last chapter, work has been exploding getting ready for winter break and the end of the year.

You can find of this story in its entirety on A03 and FF

Part 4

She hadn’t meant to do it. Not any of it. Not at all. But seeing Gail so close last night, actually touching her, holding her if even for just one moment opened a door Holly couldn’t seem to close. She knew that it was stupid, unscientific, impulsive, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Gail Peck felt like home.

An endless amount of teasing had already begun yesterday when her sister discovered she had made a date with Traci at the Penny to meet Gail’s daughter that night. Holly had tried to brush it off as taking a professional interest in a young woman who was important to Traci, and wanted to join her field of expertise. But her sister wasn’t fooled.

“Oh my God Holly! Just stop stalking her and talk with her already!” Laurel commented, with a superior smirk, when Holly told her where she were going last night, “What is this, Junior High School?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not stalking Gail! I’m meeting her daughter Sophie, Traci’s niece, to talk about her first year of pre-med at McGill!” Holly tried to sound indignant, even though she knew Laurel was right.

“Then why do you know exactly who and what I’m talking about when I haven’t even mentioned her name?” Laurel continued, raising one pointed eyebrow.

She was busted!

“Oh look! You’re blushing! That’s so cute!” Laurel laughed right in her face as the room suddenly became unbearably hot.

“I am not!” Holly sulked.

Later that night she was hoping her sister would be asleep when she got home, but no such luck. Laurel fixed her with a knowing stare when she “had that look in her eye” as she came in the door.

“You saw her, didn’t you.”

Holly shrugged, adjusting her glasses, smiling dreamily, not wanting to tell her sister she had actually hugged Gail this time.

“Seriously Holly, when are you going to stop pining away, and either ask Gail for another chance, or get over her? It’s only been ten years of this stupidity!” Laurel continued.

“I’m not pining away! And I have had other relationships, Ms. Smartypants!” Holly protested weakly.

“Whatever you say Holly. Then why do you always find an excuse to ditch perfectly nice women after no more than six months together? And why is it, on any given day, I could ask you what Gail has been up to, and you would know, and be able to give me a detailed answer?” Laurel needled her with a wry expression.

Holly sighed and declined to answer, concluding that it was probably best to say nothing in response. Her sister had, of course, been right. She always, annoyingly, was.

Gail still smelled the same, like sandalwood, and baking cookies, and coffee. It was intoxicating! Holly had almost forgotten, until last night. And now it’s all she could think about. It had driven her into the car with a weak excuse about checking out the new facilities at the morgue, only to find herself here, at Gail’s door. Like a woman possessed, climbing the front stairs, ringing the bell, feeling foolish, hoping no one is home, and praying that Gail is here all at once, Holly feels so out of control. When the door opens, the sight of Gail wearing her old blue hoodie, the one she left at Gail’s place a decade ago makes Holly’s heart skip a beat. It makes her ramble, and stutter, and stumble. As Gail catches her reflexively to stop her from completely falling, she can feel Gail’s arms tighten around her waist, pulling her closer than necessary. She can feel Gail’s heart beating right through her sweater. Looking up into those clear blue eyes, Holly knew she was a goner. She hadn’t meant to do it, but Gail’s lips are like a magnet, drawing her in.

The kiss is hungry, starving really, as she buries her hands in Gail’s hair and her tongue in Gail’s mouth. She hears the front door slam behind them, as Gail moans and sighs into her. Her knees begin to buckle at the sound. And just like that, Gail’s body is slamming her up against the nearest wall. She came here to talk, to try to catch Gail alone, to see if they could find a way to start over, or at least be friends, and yet somehow, they ended up like this. Maybe this is how they are meant to communicate, she thinks fleetingly, like a lightning strike in a forest, burning off the old to allow for new growth. It takes her back to interrogation rooms, and bathtubs, and her old office at the morgue, not that she’s complaining. Not when every cell in her body is on fire and rejoicing in the same way she is sure a wilting plant reacts to water. She can feel herself breaking, years of regret, and disappointment, and holding herself back, come crashing down at their feet, and pouring out from beneath her closed eyelids as Gail’s fingers slide inside her sweater and her coat, pushing them to the floor with a soft thud, without breaking the kiss. Salty, bittersweet tears flow onto Holly’s mouth changing the taste of Gail’s tongue from want to need, as she realizes with a gasp that Gail is weeping too. Cool, soft hands slide up her back, under her shirt, pulling her closer still, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. They are melting together, gasping, and shaking and clutching desperately at each other. Smoldering brown eyes open to lock with the blue grey storm that pierces her very soul. In this moment there is only them, there is only this.

“Oh my God… MOTHER!” The anguished cry rings out behind them, as the front door slams open breaking the spell.

Gail’s lips are ripped from hers and a cold breeze from the open door hits her like a slap where Gail’s body has just been. Holly lurches to her feet, awkwardly attempting to straighten her blouse, and put herself back together as she watches the scene before her unfold. Sophie standing wide eyed, mouth agape with shock in the doorway of Gail’s home, looking in horror from her to Gail and back before pushing roughly past them and running up the stairs, giving Holly a disdainful look as she goes.

“Sophie?” Gail calls softly to her daughter.

A bedroom door slams upstairs.

“Gail…” Traci begins, standing breathlessly on the doorstep, also looking from Gail to Holly and back, but with big motherly eyes this time.

“Don’t.” Gail warns her away with a vague wave of her hand.

The bedroom door slams again and Sophie descends scowling murderously at them all.

“Sophie! Where are you going young lady?” Gail commands, hands on her hips.

“What do you care?” Sophie shoots back, grabbing a very confused Leo by the arm. “Out! With people who I’m not interrupting! Come on Leo!”

Leo gives them all an apologetic half shrug and smile as he allows Sophie to drag him to her car.

“Sophie Katrina Peck! You get your ass back in this house right this second!” Gail storms after her, only to be stopped by Traci’s hand on her arm.

“Let her go.” Traci says quietly.

“Fuck!” Gail’s whole body deflates as she watches Sophie and Leo speed away in Sophie’s Honda Civic.

She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes as she sits abruptly on the stairs,

“She’ll be alright. At least Leo is with her.” Traci says quietly.

“Maybe I should go.” Holly says softly, getting her feet beneath her, feeling like her chest has been stomped on by an elephant.

“Don’t you dare!” Gail’s hand shoots out to grab her wrist hard, and then turning to glare at Traci, “What are you guys doing home so early? I thought your movie ended at five.”

“We went to The Human Genome Project at the Museum of Science instead.” Traci says with a shrug.

“Oh.” Gail says looking sadly up at her.

“She heard that Holly had a part in putting it together and wanted to impress her by having seen it.” Traci replies “Great.” Holly sighs, “And now she hates me.”

“No, but I do think she has a school girl crush on you, and walking in on you making out with her Mom may have burst her bubble.” Traci says with a smirk.

“Oh. That.” Holly shakes her head with a sad smile

“She does know about your past with Holly, right Gail?” Traci says as gently as she can.

“Nope.” Gail hangs her head and won’t look at either one of them.

“O – Kay…” Traci sighs

Gail continues, “ It… ah… never came up..? I mean it’s not like I’ve really dated anyone since I’ve had her.”

“No one?” Holly asks quietly.

“Nope.” Gail says, turning to face her, “She lost everything when her mom died, and I wasn’t going to bring someone else into our lives, just to have them leave and break her heart.”

“Oh.” Holly says sadly, feeling the impact of Gail’s words like a punch to her solar plexus.

“I’m sorry.” Gail says, seeing the pain register on her face, “I didn’t say that to hurt you, Holly.”

“That’s ok. I might kind of deserve it if you did.” Holly replies, deflated, unable to meet Gail’s eyes.

Traci clears her throat, “As much as I hate to break this up, I’m going to go home and wait to hear from Leo there. You two have a lot to talk about. And remember Gail, everyone deserves the chance to be happy, even you.”

“Thanks Traci.” Gail gets up to give her an unexpected hug, “I’ll call you when Sophie comes home.”

“You’re a good mother Gail.” Traci says as they part. “You know that, right? And I’ll see you later Holly!”She turns to go with a smile.

Gail is still pacing, and Holly can tell that her mind is running about a million miles an hour like a hamster wheel going nowhere. It’s the sheer helplessness she feels that keeps her glued to the couch in silence, watching Gail pace instead of getting up and reaching for her. Helplessness and guilt. Why did she think she and Gail ever stood a chance? She isn’t sure why she’s still here, but Gail insisted that she stay.

It’s nearly seven o’clock when the front door finally opens and Sophie comes storming in.

“What is she still doing here?” She demands in an icy tone, glaring at Holly.

“Sophie, “ Gail turns to face her daughter. Her tone is hard, but her eyes hold a softness Holly has rarely seen before, “She’s here because you invited her to dinner, and because she is my friend.”

“A friend. So that’s what you call it.” Sophie scoffs.

“That’s right.” Gail counters. “Or at least I hope we are.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Sophie glares at her.

Gail sighs and sags a little, “It’s complicated, Kitten. When I got you Holly had just moved to San Francisco, and you needed someone who would always be there, and I knew I couldn’t divide myself between the two of you if I was going to be able to be the parent you needed.”

The air has grown thick and hot making it hard for Holly to breathe around the growing lump in her throat and the pressure behind her eyes.

“But you’re right Sophie, Holly and I were never just friends.” She concludes, moving over to stand by Holly sitting on the couch.

“Is that why you never date anyone?” Sophie asks, crossing her arms.

“In part.” Gail reaches out to squeeze Holly’s shoulder. “And in part because I wanted to give you the most stable environment I could growing up.”

“Oh.” Sophie says, chewing on her lower lip, like Gail does some times.

“While I’m sorry you got upset by walking in on something you weren’t supposed to see, I’m not sorry that Holly is here.” Gail squeezes Holly’s shoulder again, and smiles at her for the first time.

“Ok…” Sophie says cautiously.

“I know we all have so much to talk about, but right now I’m starving! So go get ready for dinner young lady!” Gail says finally.

“Yes Mom.” Sophie turns and goes almost meekly up stairs.

As she leaves Holly gets up as well, the emotional rollercoaster of the day leaving her drained and exhausted.

“Maybe I should go…” She begins softly, looking into Gail’s clear blue eyes.

Gail reaches for her then, kissing her tenderly with soft lips as she cradles Holly’s head in her hands.

“Stay.” She whispers into her lips.

This is the one word Gail never said to her before, the one word that could have changed the course of their lives so long ago. Knowing with all her heart that there is no other choice, she can only nod and kiss Gail back, powerless to do anything else, come what may.

#gail peck #holly stewart #gail and holly #since you've been gone #rookie blue #lgbtq #rookie blue fan fiction #lesbian

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slippinmickeys · 4 months

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Three Part Harmony (16/?)

She dreamed of the sea. A beach, warm and flowering with the smell of jasmine. The sand upon which she stood was white as an eggshell, the sky the same pink as the inside of a conch. Seagulls hurled by as if in a gail, but her hair didn’t so much as flutter. Below her, her son, older, was building something out of the sand.

When she turned her head, her father was standing next to her, looking down at his grandson.

“You’re not a creature of the sea, Starbuck,” he said, turning to her. “But of the land. Look inward.”

When she woke, the sheets next to her were cool. She closed her eyes for a minute, wondering what her dream meant, if anything.

William was still asleep, so far as she could tell, and when she heard the cabin door open and close, she rolled out of bed and drifted toward the main room. The house was frigid, and she grabbed the sweater she had hanging from the back of the bedroom door and wrapped it around herself as she emerged from the hallway.

Mulder had just come in from outside, an armful of firewood stacked up to almost his chin.

“Morning,” he said quietly, the smell of the outside clinging to his clothes. He gave her a quick peck and moved past her, stopping in front of the fireplace to deposit his load on the outcrop of the hearth. The fire had gone out the evening before and the ash at the bottom of the grate was cold.

“Morning,” she said, pulling the sweater tight.

As Mulder stacked firewood, she went to the cabinets in the kitchen and pulled down both the coffee and a canister of formula, both of which were nearly empty. The rest of the kitchen was fairly bare as well; their supplies were running out.

She pulled her lips into her mouth and turned to him.

“Mulder,” she said, and he straightened, looking over at her.

“It’s time, huh,” he said, and she nodded. It had been over a week since they’d last seen Rhonda when she had left to get them restocked. They were running out of food and just about everything else. Someone would need to go get more. Mulder rubbed a hand over his face, the abrasive scrape of his palm over his stubble sounding loud in the quiet of the cabin.

“I should probably go early,” he said. “Before anywhere gets too busy. Less chance of being recognized.”

Scully sighed unhappily. Now that Mulder had shaved and had a haircut, he looked more like himself, more like the pictures of them that the FBI was passing around. Her red roots were showing, but she thought maybe she would be a little less recognizable.

“Maybe I should go,” she said.

Mulder walked up to her and rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I’ll go a couple of counties north. If I leave soon I can be back by early afternoon.”

Scully swallowed an argument and shivered under his touch.

There was a squawk from the back bedroom and Mulder smiled.

“Go get dressed,” he said. “Get warm. I’ll get him.”

Scully followed Mulder into the hallway and then ducked into their bedroom, listening to him as he mumbled sweetly to their son. She slid on a pair of jeans and thick wool socks, then a bra, turtleneck and fleece pullover. When the boys still hadn’t emerged from the other bedroom, she went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, and then out into the main room, where she picked up toys and baby detritus. She cleaned when she was anxious. Having deposited all of William’s things into a wicker basket for easy access, she headed back to say good morning to her son.

Mulder had William on the floor of the bedroom, on the small baby blanket that they’d taken to using as a diaper changing area, but when she walked in the room, there was an odd feeling in the air that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She felt a tingling in the base of her spine, and the thoughts in her head suddenly took on an echoing quality.

She could feel them. Both of them. Mulder and her son, both of them in her head like whispers in the stacks.

With a sharp inhale, Mulder seemed to come back to himself, and William began burbuling happily, rolling over to crawl quickly toward Scully, who snapped out of the ever so brief telepathic daze and bent over to scoop up her son.

Mulder rose, his knees cracking as he did so, and turned to them both with a blazing smile.

“Well,” he said. “That was something else.”

XxX

They hadn’t had much time to talk about what had happened, other than to acknowledge that William had somehow brought Mulder into his nexus of thought. When Mulder described how it felt to her, she realized it was different than what she herself experienced.

“For me,” she said, “it’s less hearing his thoughts, and more like…I don’t know. A partnership. A merging.”

“Maybe,” Mulder said, putting his arm into the sleeve of his flannel jacket. “You’re the conduit.”

She didn't like the idea of being the radio through which everyone tuned in, of being the one who could modulate the frequency and amplitude of their son’s incredible gifts.

“Maybe,” she said uncomfortably.

Mulder looked at her a long minute, nodded. “I should go,” he said. And he pressed a kiss to her cheek and to William’s, and then he was out the door, the exhaust billowing thickly as his car bumped down the frigid old driveway.

All of the snow had melted the day before–a warm front blowing through making the trees drip and the driveway a muddy mess–but it had gotten cold again in the night and plunged the cabin into a chill, freezing the mud outside and erasing all evidence that any cars had been to the house at all.

She looked down at William and felt the same thing she felt nearly a year ago: alone in a house with a baby, vulnerable and afraid and wanting Mulder to come back with such a sea widow yearning that she could taste salt water at the back of her throat. She shuddered with a lonesome chill.

Mulder had set up the fireplace for a blaze, but had not lit the kindling. Getting it going would be her first order of business after she gave William his morning bottle. The child would need to be weaned, but Scully wasn’t about to throw something like that at the boy so soon after the tumultuous upheaval he had already experienced losing his adoptive parents. He thrived on routine, and she would stick to what he knew for the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately, that included a bowl of dry cereal every morning.

William drained the bottle before she could get a chance to put him down and pointed at the cupboard where the Cheerios were usually housed.

“Cheeo,” he said.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, we’re out of cereal,” giving him a sympathetic look.

This was not what William wanted to hear. His forehead wrinkled in small chevrons of displeasure.

“Daddy’s getting some more,” she assured him, wanting it to be hours from now, with Mulder safely back under the same roof they were.

William grunted.

Mulder had dressed the baby warmly, in a fleecy onesie with treaded feet, and so when he leaned back unhappily in her arms, she set him on the floor and watched as he zoomed over to the long windows and pulled himself up on the glass, looking outside longingly.

Scully exhaled a long breath and looked out to where the gray morning was gradually brightening.

“You’re right, William,” she said, and then walked to where her boots waited by the door. “We need a change of scenery.”

XxX

She’d wrapped him in all the layers they’d bought for him, carrying him out past the cabin’s yard and just into the hem of the forest that surrounded it. Once there, she set him down and let him explore. He seemed delighted by the prospect.

Everything was new and different, and while he was still of an age prone to putting things in his mouth, he would stop when she told him to and move on to the next new and exciting thing; a pine cone, the curled paper at the base of a birch, the soft leafy strata at the edge of the taiga.

There seemed to be a marked demarcation up here at the rim of the mountains where deciduous met conifer, and before they’d gotten too far, Scully could hear the bubbling slip of the river that had enticed Rhonda’s uncle to make the valley his home.

“Come on, William,” she said, scooping him up and tossing him a little in the air. “Let’s go check out the river.” The baby, delighted by the actions of his mother, happily settled into her arms and patted his mittened hand along her jaw as they walked.

The hemlock and pine grew thick near the water, but opened to a beach-like duff past a rocky point where the swift moving river caught on an old windfall. It was the perfect spot for fishing, even a novice like Scully could see, with several deep pools that spilled over submerged boulders, soft meringues of foam swirling on eddies where the current caught on a branch or rock. The water was cold and clear, and she could see the dark backs of trout flitting in between the undulating river grasses. It was hypnotic, the burble and clear rush of it, and Scully and the baby stood for several long quiet minutes just watching the water slip past.

“You see the fish?” she asked him, finally breaking the silence and pointing at the silvery flits.

“Pish,” William repeated reverently, though Scully wasn’t certain his eyes could make out the animals.

Once the boy got wiggly enough, she began making her way back toward the cabin and away from the danger of the river before setting him down again.

Over an hour had passed before his cheeks got pink enough for her to consider corralling him back inside the house, but he was slowing down and showing signs of fatigue, and put up very little fuss when she scooped him up and picked her way back toward the A-frame.

It had been quiet in the woods, other than the occasional chitter from a squirrel or call from one of the puffed out little chickadees that flitted in and out of the branches of the trees. So when Scully heard the far-off grind of an engine as she was mounting the steps of the porch, she thought for one happy moment that Mulder was already back.

She ducked inside, stomping her boots on the rug before turning to the window to watch the headlights bouncing down the long driveway. Her blood ran cold. It was neither the narrow slits of the Grand Prix nor the boxy orange glow of Rhonda’s Datsun. It was a long, dark sedan which she could now see as it made its way through the last of the trees, and Scully–William still tucked into her arms–frantically looked around the room of the cabin for any evidence they may have left out. It was likely someone who had made a wrong turn, but it could just as easily be one of Skinner’s men, or someone from the local PD, come to check out a lead.

Relieved she had picked up earlier that morning and that she had neglected to light the fireplace, Scully flicked the front door’s lock, grabbed the basket of baby toys and pushed it into the back of the room’s only closet. She shoved the high chair in behind it and lifted up the bulk of old coats that hung there to camouflage it.

The car had pulled in in front of the cabin, and she could hear the moment the engine cut.

Carrying the baby, she darted to the back bedroom, picked up the old quilt from the floor and threw it over the pack-n-play, which she shoved into a corner, and then, both of them still wrapped in their outdoor gear, tucked herself and William into the back of the room’s small closet.

The door of the closet was old louvered wood, wide enough that she could see a few feet into the room, and the space of the closet itself was small, barely enough room for the two of them and the few odds and ends tucked into it.

Still breathing hard, she heard the person shaking the handle of the door and then the creepy insectile clicks as the person picked the lock open, one tumbler at a time. Then the door to the cabin opened, and she looked down at her son, who was looking up at her with wide eyes, a dull slat of light highlighting the intense blue.

Don’t make a sound, she silently willed the boy. We need to be invisible.

Whether or not the child understood, picked up on some ancient survival instinct or perhaps could even read her mind, she didn’t know, but William remained as quiet as she’d ever heard him, even in sleep, and the only sound she could hear was the thump of her heart, her own breathing, and the dull sound of footsteps from the front room.

Scully’s mind raced; it clearly wasn’t a case of someone who’d taken a wrong turn, they wouldn’t have broken in–whoever was here was looking for something or someone–likely she, Mulder and William. Would the person think to check the trash? This morning’s diaper was tucked into it. Had she left out William’s bottle, or loaded it into the old dishwasher? Would they open it? A million different scenarios flicked through her head, one after another. Would she fight the person if they opened the closet door? Could she, with William in her arms? Would the boy do something like he’d done at the farm in Wyoming? She looked down at him again and found him still looking directly at her, his expression solemn.

She could hear the person trudging up the stairs to Rhonda’s loft. Invisible, she kept thinking. We need to be invisible.

Her ears followed the heavy footsteps. It was a man, she was certain. And he was now making his way down the hallway to the back rooms where she and William were hiding.

Her heart raced, though William remained silent as the night, his eyes staying on hers. She began to feel a tingling in the back of her neck. They were connected now, her and the boy, for better or worse.

But this time, she didn’t fall headlong into the kind of trance where she felt outside her body, like the first time. No, now she was fully tuned in to what was going on outside the door, but also fully with her son, or he fully with her. It was hard to tell now where she ended and he began.

The footsteps stopped in front of the closet. She could see the man’s shoes and pant legs. They were of high quality. Dress pants. Like an FBI agent would wear. She could smell, ever so faintly, the acrid scent of cigarette smoke clinging to the man’s clothes. Her blood flooded with adrenaline. Invisible, she thought again.

The door swung open. The man standing before them was dressed in a suit with a long wool overcoat. He had a dark complexion and a mean look to him, but as he stood before them, there was no wash of recognition that settled on his face, merely a staring consternation. Scully’s blood was singing, and she could feel herself begin to shake, but then she could feel William with her, a steady, grounding presence. And just as she was about to bolt, to ram into the man and run, he turned on his heel and made a frustrated sound in his throat, turning to look around the rest of the room.

Invisible, she had thought, and she realized with a growing sense of dismay and elation, William had made it so. They were invisible to the man. He had not seen them, though they were standing directly in front of him.

She watched as the agent’s eyes fell on the square of the covered pack-n-play in the corner, but as he took a step toward it, a bright trilling sounded from his pocket, and both Scully and William jumped.

The man, however, merely reached into his coat and pulled out a cell phone, pressing a button and holding the phone to his ear.

“Agent Bryson here,” he said.

There was a dull murmuring on the other end of the line which Scully couldn’t make out.

“No, I’ve got nothing here. I think we can write off the waitress,” Agent Bryson sighed.

Then she watched as the man’s posture changed as he listened, a grim smile creeping up his cheeks.

“Where?” he asked excitedly.

More murmuring.

“Are the woman and boy with him?”

Scully’s stomach clenched. They had Mulder. They’d caught him. She was as sure of that as she had ever been about anything in her life.

“All right. You booking him at the Sheriff’s office?” A pause. “Excellent. I’m on my way.”

With that, he pocketed the cell phone and turned crisply on his heel, his steps quick as he walked back to the front room and out the door of the cabin.

A sense of dread settling over her, Scully listened to the front door open and close, and a moment later, the distant sound of a car turning over and then the Doppler effect of its engine fading away into nothingness.

William wriggled in her arms and then reached up to pat her cheek. Not knowing what else to do, Scully lowered her nose to inhale the boy’s scent, as sweet and sharp as marzipan. In the chaos of their lives on the X-Files, in the grit and the terror and the din, she and Mulder had raged against dark forces and found each other. William’s little hands waved through the air, and Scully kissed his downy head. This child, she thought. They had made love in a tempest and birthed a storm.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #wip #family fic #but not fluff

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