TITLE: Things Found
AUTHOR: Kestabrook
EMAIL: Kestabrook@aol.com
DISTRIBUTION: Spookys, Gossamer--archive
anywhere if you want it.
SPOILERS: Redux II; SUZ; Closure
RATING: PG (for language)
CONTENT: a hint of MSR and angst
CLASSIFICATION: V
SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully's wait at a
mall turns up things lost...and found.
DISCLAIMER: X-Files characters are CC's
and company's. The other one is mine.
THANKS: To my readers Michelle, Clarissa,
Catbird, and Laura for their suggestions
and help; and to Laine, Kristen, Shiv,
Nicola, and all the other Crystalshippers
for continued and wonderful friendship.
FEEDBACK: I love it when it's positive.

Things Found (01 of 01)
by Kestabrook

"I need a break, Mulder. You want some
coffee?" Dana Scully stifled a yawn and
managed a quick glance at her partner. For
too long they had sat on the bench in the
busy, suburban mall, awaiting an informant
who was already two hours late. Two hours
and thirteen minutes, to be exact.

Mulder checked his watch for the zillionth
time, having to lift the black leather
sleeve of his jacket to get to his wrist.
"Coffee would be good. Thanks, Scully."

"You think he'll show?"

Mulder shrugged. "Skinner said to meet
this guy here--said there was a chance
he'd have something important to tell
us--"

"But Skinner didn't say what it was?"

"Nope. I don't think he knows."

Scully shook her head and rose to her
feet, stretching carefully so her blazer
wouldn't fall away from her side and
expose her weapon. "I may go a few states
away to get this coffee."

"I don't blame you." He met her eyes.
"Look, Scully, you really don't need to be
here. Skinner said the guy requested me
specifically anyway. I'm sorry; I
shouldn't have called you. Go on home if
you want."

She studied her partner closely. "No, I
can't think of anything I'd rather do on a
Saturday, Mulder, than hang around a mall
bench with you--for hours."

He tossed his head in a slight laugh, and
he watched her walk away from him and
toward the distant food court.

Why had he called her? There'd been no
real reason other than that he didn't want
to be without her. The last few weeks had
been nothing if not turbulent. There had
been some good days when he'd been able to
keep his mind off recent events--and
horrible days when he'd thought that any
moments spent awake would grind him into
an inescapable despair.

But having Scully by his side had saved
him. Had kept him focused and buoyed.
Since their return from California, her
presence had seemed even more natural,
more necessary. Maybe she was filling the
gap in his life created by his having
"found" Samantha. Or maybe her presence
with him in California, or in Connecticut
or in his apartment after his mother
died--had simply reinforced how vital she
was to him. Whichever. He was finding,
though, that being away from her was
something he no longer wanted to tolerate.
That's why he'd called her to wait at the
mall with him. And to his surprise, she'd
come without protest.

He let his gaze wander over the passers-
by, taking in the teen-aged girls whose
tank tops showed more flesh than they
covered, and the adolescent boys whose
jeans' legs could encircle their bodies at
least twice. He found himself shaking his
head at the pants' crotches that hung down
to the boys' knees. And the multiple
facial piercings exhibited by both sexes
made him wince.

*Mulder,* he said to himself, *you're
getting old.* And he allowed himself a
moment to wonder if he or Samantha would
have worn any such styles had they been in
fashion back in the day. *I'm finally
sounding like my father,* he warned
himself. And he turned his attention to
the other shoppers.

In the center of the concourse, a little
girl stood by the fountain. The skylights
from above her allowed bright sunshine to
illumine her white blouse and yellow
skirt. White tights covered her legs and
ended at her feet in tiny sneakers. Her
long brown hair cascaded about her face,
nearly hiding the fact that she was in
tears. Oblivious shoppers passed her, and
she took no notice of them either, so
intent was she on her own sorrows.

Mulder waited, glancing around the crowded
corridor, hoping some parent might be on
his or her way to find and comfort this
daughter--this little girl whose emotional
torment was so obvious to him. But no one
seemed interested or concerned. And as
minutes passed, he found he could not
watch her suffer. Finally, he pushed off
the bench and slowly made his way toward
her, keeping an eye on the rest of the
crowd--should either his informant or the
girl's parents materialize.

Within seconds, he stood over the young
girl, towering above her so that his
shadow hid the sun from her eyes. "Hey,
what's wrong?" His voice was calm, trying
to be helpful.

She looked up at him quickly, her face
streaked with tears, her eyes already red
and puffy. As she realized she didn't know
him, her frown worsened, and she looked
down again, crossing her arms on her chest
defensively.

Mulder squatted next to her. "I'm not
going to hurt you. I just want to help."
Without touching her, he leaned forward,
dipping his head so that he could engage
her eyes. "Are you here with your parents
or just your mom *or* dad?"

She allowed her eyes to shyly look at him,
and her lips quivered as she said, "Mommy.
I don't know where she went."

Mulder nodded. "What's your name?"

"Carrie."

"How old are you, Carrie?"

"Eight."

Mulder felt his heart tug as he remembered
another eight-year-old so long ago.
Another lost child.

"Well, Carrie, how about I wait with you
or help you find your mom? It's no fun to
be lost, is it? You see that bench over
there?" He pauseed while she looked in its
direction. "Let's go have a seat. I'm sure
that she'll come looking for you as soon
as she realizes you're not with her. And
I'll tell one of the security people to
call for her. Okay with you?"

Carrie stared up at him, her tears still
streaming. "What if she never comes back?"

Mulder grinned sympathetically. "What do
you and your mom like to do? Do you bake
cookies together? Do you help her do
things around the house?"

The little girl nodded. "And we take
walks, and we walk Sparky."

"Is Sparky your dog?"

"Yes."

"So you and your mom have fun, huh?" When
he saw her nod again, he replied, "Then of
course she'll come back for you. Good moms
don't leave their little girls alone on
purpose."

Carrie nodded. "My mommy's a good mommy."

"I'll bet she is." Mulder stood and
extended his hand. Carrie took it quickly,
and he let his fingers curl around hers,
remembering the warm little grip as if it
belonged to someone else. He led her back
to the bench.

As Carrie sat, Mulder eyed the crowd,
finally locating a security officer. He
managed to get the man's attention and
motioned him to join them. "Carrie, what's
your last name? Can you tell me that?"
Mulder asked her as the older man in a
grey uniform approached.

"Stewart," she replied in a small voice.
She was drying her tears with her fingers
and watching the shoppers with
expectation.

Mulder informed the officer of the
problem, and the man left to have the lost
child announced. Mulder sat next to Carrie
and took her hand again.

"My name's Fox," he told her. "Silly name,
huh?"

"*Fox*?" She almost giggled.

"Yep. What are you laughing at?" he asked
in mock anger.

This time she did laugh, and she squeezed
his hand. "You're funny."

Mulder smiled. "Yeah, well..."

"Carrie Jo!! What?! What are you doing?!"

The announcement hadn't yet been made, but
Mulder quickly deduced that the good mommy
had found her daughter. He stood as the
slim, dark haired young woman jogged to
the bench. Carrie was on her feet, too,
her arms flung open to embrace her
relieved mother.

"Mommy!!"

"Carrie Jo, I've told you to stay with
me." The woman's eyes quickly took in
Mulder, and she warned in a quieter voice,
"I've told you not to talk to strangers!"
She knelt and intensely hugged her little
girl.

"He's my friend, Mama. His name is Fox."

The mother took another disapproving look
at her daughter's "friend." Mulder felt
her disdain as she regarded his leather
jacket, grey T-shirt, and jeans.

"'Fox'? Yeah, right."

"I'm an FBI agent, ma'am," he tried to
explain. "I was just trying to help."

The mother nodded, unassured.

Carrie Jo extended her hand once more for
him to shake. "Thanks, Fox. You found my
mommy."

Mulder watched as Carrie Jo Stewart's
mother took her hand and shuffled her
daughter away from him and into the crowd
with other good mommies and daddies, and
boys who could hardly keep their jeans on
their hips and young girls who wore tank
tops and were better endowed than any
girls he remembered in his junior high
classes.

Mulder lost sight of Carrie Jo within
seconds, and he lowered himself to the
bench again, resting his head in his
hands, his elbows on his knees. He'd lost
Samantha. And in his search for her, he'd
lost so much of himself--even his own
chances to have a Carrie Jo or fashion-
obsessed teen-agers. He'd lost out on a
lot of things due to the way he'd run his
life. Bill Scully, Jr., was right: he
truly was one sorry son of a bitch. One
*lost* and sorry son of a bitch.

"Hey, you must have been one hell of a
good brother."

Scully's welcome voice reached through his
thoughts.

"You think?" He leaned back and gladly
took the coffee she offered him. The hot
styrofoam seemed comforting in his hand.
"Her mother thought I was the friendly
mall pervert."

She sat beside him again. "Maybe she knows
what kinds of movies you watch."

"Funny, Scully. You really know how to
pick a guy up when he's down."

"That's what I'm here for," she returned
his joke and then sobered. "I thought you
did a nice job with the little girl."

"You watched? Why didn't you come help?
You're great with kids--and the mother
wouldn't have thought you a pervert."

"No, of course she wouldn't have. But--I
don't know, Mulder. I guess I just wanted
you to..."

"To what?"

She started to speak but paused as if she
thought better of it. "Hey, you think this
guy is ever going to show--or does he
think you're a pervert, too?"

Mulder allowed a smile. "I don't really
care what he thinks of me. Or what he was
supposedly going to tell me. I just know
I'm tired of waiting for people and
things."

Her gaze fell and lingered on his
features, reading them. "Yeah, I know what
you mean." She pursed her lips. "Why don't
we just tell Skinner this guy never found
us?"

Mulder nodded. "Okay."

"Really?"

He didn't even pause to consider. "Yeah."

With her free hand, Scully reached out and
took his. She pulled, and together, they
rose to their feet. "C'mon, then. It's
Saturday. Let's go do something fun."

Mulder steadied his coffee while trying to
read her expression. "What? What do you
mean?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Let's just
get out of here and--what the hell--play.
Live. Do what other people do when they're
not waiting for people and things."

He felt his mood suddenly lift. He then
nudged her as he noticed a teen-aged
couple passing them. "Hey, I'll shop for a
pair of jeans like that if you'll get that
tank top."

"Yeah, sure, Mulder. I think those days
have passed, don't you? But...we could get
our eyebrows pierced, I suppose."

"I like your eyebrows just fine."

She glanced up at him, surprised. Quietly,
she replied, "Yours aren't bad either."

Mulder looked at her closely. He managed a
grin. "What's your name, little girl?"

She regarded him hesitantly, and then the
corners of her lips lifted in a warm,
knowing smile. "Dana Scully. What's
yours?"

"Fox Mulder. And...I've been...lost."

Scully reached up and lightly caressed his
cheek. "Well, you're not lost anymore."

Mulder covered her hand with his and then
took it, gripping it fairly tightly. He
met her eyes and read in them the support
they'd always offered him, but there was
more now. He realized suddenly that she,
too, felt the need to shed the past, and
that perhaps she, too, had felt the need
to be found.

Their hands still joined, they turned and
left the bench behind, shuffling off into
the crowd of kids and mommies and daddies
and shoppers who were oblivious to their
having found each other.
*************************
End "Things Found" (01 of 01)
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