TITLE: Only Apples AUTHOR: Kelly Keil EMAIL: klkeil@butter.toast.net WEBSITE: http://www.geocities.com/KellyLyn73 ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just keep my info attached. FEEDBACK: Is the fruit in my pie. Please tell me what you think. RATING: PG CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. You know who does. I just took them on an outing. SUMMARY: Spend an autumn afternoon with Mulder and Scully. NOTES: At the end. _________________________ Only Apples By Kelly Keil "Dress casual," he advises over the phone, "and wear sturdy shoes." "Where are we going?" she asks, knowing full well he won't tell her. She hears the suppressed excitement in his voice. "You'll see," is all he'll say. "Get ready. I'll be there in a half hour." When he picks her up, she asks again about their destination but he remains mute. With resignation she joins him in the car, prepared for a long journey. Mulder drives the car further and further from civilization, whistling tunelessly through his teeth. Scully sits beside him, thinking how much she dislikes surprises. Neither speaks. As the miles fly by, she fingers her old flannel shirt and stares down at her worn boots. Brilliant red and gold trees flash by her window and geese fly south for winter against a vivid blue sky. * * * "An orchard and cider mill?" Scully asks. She pictures severed limbs peeking out of apple mash. Thrusting away the image, she summons derision. "Is it haunted?" Mulder looks at her, clearly puzzled. "Not that I know of. I suppose we could ask." Comprehension dawns on his face. "You don't know why we're here, do you?" He begins chuckling as he walks away from the car toward a small market that adjoins the weather-beaten barn. Annoyed that Mulder knows something that she does not, Scully turns her gaze toward the apple trees. Their branches are hobbled and bent over in painful angles under the weight of their apples. Unbidden, a vision of blood sacrifice to the hungry trees' roots floats before her. She shakes her head with impatience and follows Mulder into the market. "So what are we here for?" she asks Mulder as she catches up to him. "Isn't it obvious? To pick apples." He twirls a large basket in his hands. "Are you ready?" He begins to walk toward the orchard. Scully stands where she is. "But..." Of all the scenarios she's pictured, this isn't one of them. "But...why?" "You like apples, don't you?" he says. "You can buy apples anywhere," she says. "Mulder, I don't understand. I thought..." she almost mentions her earlier grisly ruminations but stops herself in time. "I don't have time to pick apples." Mulder takes the basket in one hand and holds the other out toward her. A winning smile graces his lips. "Come on, Scully. What are you afraid of? They're only apples." Scully is rooted by indecision. There are a hundred things she should be doing. The minutia of her daily life call for her attention, but Mulder is still holding his hand out to her. How long before he lets it fall to his side? How long until his eyes cloud over and his mischievous smile fades? Scully reaches out for Mulder's hand. They're only apples. * * * Mulder shines an apple on his shirt until its skin glows deep garnet. He takes a deep bite and chews thoughtfully. "Empire," he says, offering Scully a bite then throwing it over his shoulder. The taste is sweet and crisp, "A pretty decent eating apple," he remarks. They walk to another tree and repeat the ritual. The flavor of this apple is very tart. "Jonathan," he informs her. "Good for baking. Not bad eating, either, as long as you like 'em sour." They carry the basket between them, Scully's end dipping much closer to the ground. What she knows of apples would barely cover the bottom of their bushel. Sir Isaac Newton discovered gravity when one fell on his head. Johnny Appleseed planted orchards across America. Eve was damned for plucking one. Just useless fairy tales. Around them is the buzz of bees and the sweet yet sour smell of fallen apples. Close by is the burble of a small brook edged with tall grass and blackberry brambles. Children are daring each other to hop the creek while their parents pick Golden Delicious apples that will later be packed into school lunches. It suddenly occurs to her that this is what life ought to be: simple beads of peace and contentment on a string. She has been twisted in on herself, like the branches of the apple trees, weighed down by the burdens she bears. She has been looking down at the ground, seeing only dirt and decay. "Isn't this a beauty?" Mulder asks. Scully cranes her neck to see his upturned face as he picks a likely apple. She realizes this is the first time in months, maybe years, that she has looked at the world around her and seen its splendor "Yes," she agrees. "It is." * * * There are no ladders in sight and all the good apples within easy reach have been plucked. Mulder ducks under low lying branches and begins to climb a tree. Scully follows him, meaning to admonish him to be careful, but forgets what she was about to say under the shelter of the green branches. Under here is only cool shade, the grotesque bend of tree limbs hidden from her view. She looks up at Mulder in his precarious perch and sees deep blue sky, jewel-green leaves, and apples hanging around them like fat drops of sin. She sees how beautiful he is, not for any perfection of form or face, but because he is so dear to her. She wants him and this life he has given her a tantalizing glimpse of. This is how it should be, she thinks, picking apples and buying groceries and paying off mortgages. She catches the apples he drops and carefully places them in the basket. "Why the long face? Are you okay down there?" he asks. She is quiet for a few moments more then allows herself to speak. "I've been thinking, Mulder." He begins to climb down the tree. "Dangerous, Scully. Thinking, that is." He is teasing her and she feels a stab of impatience. This is serious. This is important. "I've been thinking how nice this day was -- " "You're welcome." " -- and how alien it feels to me." She had been expecting a crime scene, not apples. Somehow she feels it should be the other way around. His feet hit the soft ground with a dull thump, then he walks over to her. He lifts her chin so that she is forced to look into his eyes. "I wanted to come here to remind both of us that life is more than the work and ugliness we see every day. There is a world beyond all that I sometimes miss." He draws away from her then takes an apple from their basket and bites into it. "This is what we're fighting for." She smiles at him. "Apples?" "You know what I mean. Sometimes I need to be reminded. I thought you might, too." Scully grabs the apple from him and takes a bite of her own. "Thank you," she says, her mouth full of sweetness. She is still holding the apple in her hand when he bends his head to kiss her. He tastes like the fruit hanging all around them. He takes his time, as if the world wasn't in danger of ever ending, tasting her and drinking her in. He kisses her like a man who has the time to drive over fifty miles to pick apples when they can be bought at the local grocery store. He kisses her like a man who is in love. "There are things worth fighting for," he murmurs as he pulls back from her. His half lidded eyes seem to say, Come on, Scully. What are you afraid of? They're only kisses. Again he waits for her to decide. She pulls his face down to hers. "This is worth fighting for," she says. * * * Above them the sky darkens from cobalt to purple, stars begin to appear, and a round orange moon hangs near the horizon. At home cocoa will be drunk, bills will be paid, and apple crisp will be baked. Life will cycle on, but she will remember, with each bite of apple she eats, the color of the sky, the smell of ripe fruit, and the taste of Mulder's kiss. These are the things that really matter. End ________________________ Notes: I owe many thanks to my various lovely and talented betas: Livia Babalan, Maria Nicole, Jess, Cofax, JHJ Armstrong, Sabine, and Punk Maneuverability. Cofax, thanks for the astronomy lesson. Sab and Punk: it hurt, but it was worth it. You made it better. Thank you. As always, my heart belongs to Yes, Virginia. This story is for Token, who was the inspiration. General comments and feedback are welcome at klkeil@butter.toast.net.