TITLE: Rainy Day AUTHOR: aRcaDIaNFall$ FEEDBACK: arcadianfalls@yahoo.com.au RATING: G SPOILERS: none CLASSIFICATION: MSR, V SUMMARY: A rainy Saturday morning has Scully a little depressed... --> http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfalls/ Rainy Day by aRcaDIaNFall$ Drip. Drip. Pitter patter, pitter patter, and it's not little feet. Rain. Dismal drizzle, a pitiful excuse for rain. Drip. Drip. Drip. It's like I can hear every damn drop that hits the ground, through the half-inch of open window. A raindrop hits a leaf, slips down the glossy surface like a child down a slide, hesitates at the curled lip of the veined green plain before rolling off and falling, falling, falling... tumbling, wobbling, and finally, plop! The ground is several feet below the open window but still somehow that explosion still reaches my ears. Then another drop, and another, and the leaves swishing in the faint wind, a dull rumble of thunder in the far distance. A cacophony of the elements. It's been drizzling for hours. Thunder resounds ominously in the distance but never makes good on its threat. Just the steady plip-plop of rain, ruining any chance I had of enjoying my Saturday. Can't go for a jog. Don't want to really go *anywhere* in the rain. Hem of my trenchcoat dragging through puddles, my shoes soaked, feet cold, my pants cuffs splotched with rain and mud... Much nicer to stay inside, cuddled up in my armchair and rug and thick woolen socks. *But*... I'm bored. I'm depressed by the useless monotony of the weather. Every drip is like another drop of precious lifeblood wasted, because I'm stuck inside, all alone, listening to rain I surely can't hear and wasting the day I've looked forward to all week. I should throw the sash up and climb out the window, dance crazily in the rain on the lawn, let it soak through my clothes and skin into my veins, drop by drop. I should inhale the fresh earthiness and let out a glorious whoop of joy as the rain christens me, as it dribbles down my neck. I should be living life, loving, loving life, instead of just sitting, listening, biding my time. The wind is picking up and the rain is coming in at an angle, each drop exploding against the windowpane and sliding down into oblivion. It's getting heavier, too. I can hear the difference as well as seeing it, the larger drops, more of them. It's starting to pelt, like a tribal drumming, quickening like an anxious heartbeat. I'm absorbed in it, can almost feel the impact of each drop against my skin despite the glass between us. The drumming resounds in my brain, engulfing me, numbing me, quelching those strange urges to emancipate myself, leaving me with a dull contentment to just be another splash against the glass, unthinking, unloving. God, rainy days are depressing. It's as if every drop is mocking, taunting, pitying... He knocks on my door. I know it's him even before I unlatch it and he steps in, shaking himself like a wet dog. Who else would it be? "Hey Scully." He's gotten wet even in the quick dash from car to the front door of my apartment and I toss him a towel. He rubs at his hair, leaving it rumpled. Giving me an engaging grin, he proffers an object. A rental video cassette. Godzilla, the latest remake. "I've heard it's pretty bad. Wanna watch it with me?" I smile at him. "Sure." I push the tape into the VCR and drop down on the couch, grinning as Mulder tosses a cushion at me, tossing it back and giggling as he tries to tickle me before pulling me against him snugly, comfortably. "I was waiting for a rainy day," he says, kissing my hair. I grin, shooting him a look and elbowing him as he tries to grab the remote. I can't hear the rain any more. fin.