Title: Seasons

Author: Andrea

Rating: G

Category: I have no idea, I've never written anything
like this before. Vignette, maybe.

Disclaimer: I wish...then there'd be no 9th season.

Archiving: I'd be honoured, but I'd also like to know.

Notes: Thanks to Dan for beta reading. And a big thanks
to my IWTB listmates for telling me it was worth posting.

Spoilers: thru season 6.

Feedback: Please! ardywyn@hotmail.com


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It was springtime the first time he saw her there, at the park
beside the brook. She was sitting on a blanket beneath an apple 
tree, her back against the trunk. Usually confident with the
fairer sex, he suddenly felt shy. He instantly regretted his
choice of words, wishing he could snatch them back from the 
open air.

"Do you come here often?"

When she looked up from her book and saw him there, her smile
blossomed like the throng of buds above her.

"I do. It's peaceful, don't you think?"

He asked if he could sit. She patted the blanket and gave him
room. They talked until the warmth of the spring sun had faded.
She wore his coat to keep away the chill and he walked her to
her car. 

In some tacit agreement, they met again, the Sunday next and 
every one after that. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they read,
but often they would sit in silence simply watching the people
who were also enjoying their park beside the brook.

One Sunday, at the height of the summer's heat, his heart fell
when he found their spot beneath the apple tree empty. His pulse
became thready, his thoughts began to race. Had he done something
to offend her?

"Sorry," he felt a touch on his arm. "I moved to the oak tree."

"More shade?" he wondered, trying to calm his voice.

"Too many bees," she smiled up at him.

"I see," he took a chance and slipped his hand into hers. 
"Allergic?"

"Not exactly," she squeezed his hand as they walked. "But I did
have a bad reaction once."

Even in the shade of the giant oak, the heat of day was almost
too much to bear. He suggested ice cream and had a double scoop,
watching intently as she made her single last as long.

When the sun set and the evening breeze became fractionally 
cooler, she suggested they meet under the stars until the dog
days had past. Sunday evenings were then spent under rustling
leaves until the wee hours. Not once did either complain about
a bleary-eyed Monday.

When autumn arrived and the weather cooled, they began to meet
in the sunshine again, although they parted no earlier. He woke
one Sunday to find a steady rain falling on his best day of the
week. He hoped with all of his heart that the cold autumn rain
would not keep her away.

He got to the park beside the brook early, thinking she might
wait for him in her car. He was wrong. She was standing under
the brilliant orange leaves of the oak, a pale blue umbrella
sheltering her from the rain.

Since sitting under the tree seemed to be out of the question, 
they decided to stroll along the path beside the brook. Even in
the rain the air was full of the spicy scent of fall. The 
umbrella couldn't keep both of them dry, so it was folded
up and put away. They walked, hand in hand, in the steady rain, 
neither wanting to relinquish their time together.

In no time they were entirely drenched. He worried that she might
be cold, even though his skin felt hot. 

"I'm fine," she answered his concern, smiling up at him, blinking
away the raindrops that clung to her lashes.

His free hand tried to wash away the tear-like drops of rain from
her cheeks, but he couldn't keep up. He found himself suddenly 
lost in her eyes and drawn to her mouth. He'd been afraid to take
his special Sunday relationship any further. Afraid that if he
pushed her, the fragile Sunday bond would shatter. 

The first brush of her lips against his allayed all of his fears.
She was standing on tiptoes, stretching to reach him. She had
done what he'd been too scared to do. It was raining. They were
soaked to skin, standing in the still brilliant colors of autumn,
sharing a perfect kiss. 

Winter did not stop Sunday afternoons at the park. Now, however,
they arrived in the same car and the biting wind often chased  
them home early. The duration of the afternoon was often spent 
snuggled in front of a crackling fire.

"I've often wondered," she looked up into his hazel eyes, one
such Sunday afternoon. "Did you know that I went to that park
every Sunday?"

Before he answered, he lowered his mouth to hers, no longer 
afraid to kiss her perfect lips. "What do you think, Scully?"

end


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