From: xfactore@inforamp.net
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: *NEW* All I Want Is You 1/2
Date: 14 Mar 1996 22:16:17 GMT


Yeah, well ... put it down to sentimentality.  I'm expecting another baby
in August and my hormones are awash in hearts and flowers/romance novel
atmosphere.  So here's the little offering that I swore to myself I would
never write ... Yep, you guessed it, an M&S "Do the Nasty" story ...

ANT-RELATIONSHIPPERS BEWARE.  This story has an incredibly high gag
quotient.  In fact, I almost tossed a coupla times ... but then again, it
was probably the morning sickness.

This story is based on characters written by the mighty CC, Ten Thirteen,
Fox etc. and I have completely twisted the premise to my own nefarious
ends ...  This gets a definite PG-13 for adult situations ...

Thanks as always (and again) to Debbie Hewett for editing this little
piece of fluff without getting sick herself.

Please add the EMXC disclaimers and stuff here ...  And now the swelling
violin music begins ...

*****************************************************************

         ALL I WANT IS YOU
            An X-Files Tale
           by Terri Monture   
  (TL_Monture@mail.magic.ca or xfactore@inforamp.net)


   The snow silently sparkled outside the window like a million diamonds
flung over the ground by Mother Nature, and the sky was a black velvet
mantle spread across the world. Scully pulled the quilt tight around her
shoulders and sat up; Mulder moaned softly in his sleep and turned towards
her, one knee shifting into the warmth on the floor where she had just
lain beside him. She held her breath but he quieted.

   She stared down at him, his body ethereally golden in the pale soft
light from the candle that still burned gently on the table, the lean
length of him, of his beauty, burning into her brain. Her body stirred
again; even in sleep he had the power to arouse her, to make her world
tremble with the onslaught of her own powerful desire. She shook her head
as if waking from a dream and made herself look away.

   Wrapping the quilt around her, she rose shakily to her feet and ran a
hand across her face, feeling the light scratches where Mulder's chin had
scraped over it with feverish kisses; touching her lips with a finger, she
felt how swollen and sensitive they were and shivered, goosebumps racing
over her skin as she remembered how her lips came to be that way.

   Her mind was a tormented whirl; images of what had taken place a scarce
hour before seared her senses -- Mulder's eyes, luminous in candlelight,
his hands on her body, caressing her, his eager mouth, the feel of him
beneath her fingers, his kiss ...

   Oh god, what have I done?  What have *we* done?

   *All I want is you ...*

   Scully fled to the bathroom and carefully shut the door behind her,
blinking in the sudden sharp light that flooded the room.  She focused on
her reflection in the mirror and tried to ignore the reddened patches
around her mouth, her touseled hair ... the livid red lovebite where
collarbone met throat.
 
   This should not have happened, she told herself. Her knees gave way and
she leaned on the side of the bathtub for support. She pulled the quilt
tight around her and felt a guilty pang for leaving Mulder alone on the
floor with nothing to cover him. Why was she always thinking about him,
about whether he was comfortable or happy or whatever? She tried in vain
to make herself stop and leaned her feverish forehead against the cool
tile of the bathroom wall, gathering her scattered wits about her.

   She swallowed hard. This should not have happened, she repeated to
herself. She hung her head in her hands. All because I let my guard down
... all because I let him know the truth ...


Friday
 3:48 p.m.
J.Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, DC

   The most annoying thing about having an office in the basement, Scully
thought for the umpteenth time, was the inconvenience of the only nearby
women's room on the third floor.  She ran lightly up the stairs, enjoying
the pull in her leg muscles and the sharp echoing crack her heels made in
the stairwell on the cement steps.  At the third floor landing she slowed
down and walked through the door with the efficient stride that served her
well in the bustling offices of the FBI headquarters.  Pushing open the
door to the women's lounge she blinked in the harsh fluorescent lighting.

   A post-coffee break crowd was chattering in front of the long mirror
over the gleaming row of sinks; Scully smiled politely at those colleagues
she recognized and ducked inside a stall. The seat was cold.

   Back outside she washed and rinsed her hands carefully, then rummaged
in her purse for a small tube of hand lotion and a lipstick. She felt a
pair of eyes boring into her, looked up and felt a sharp sinking feeling
as she stared into the brilliant blue eyes of Agent Caroline Krueger.

   "Agent Scully," the woman purred, tossing back her sleek blond mane
that curled in a perfect bob below her chin. She stared down at Scully
from her model's height, her pale blue suit hugging her lush figure in all
the right places. Sometimes -- depending upon her mood -- Scully felt
intimidated and mousey beside such a beautiful creature. But not today.

   Scully had worked with Caroline Krueger once or twice at Quantico and,
although had no real cause to complain about the woman, disliked her
intensely simply because she found her to be smug and officious.  

   Caroline's eyes were like blue laserbeams.  "How's life in the basement
with the Ghost?"  

   Scully blinked again. "Excuse me?" she asked, pasting a pleasant look
on her face.

   "Surely you know -- Mulder." At Scully's blank look, Caroline sighed in
a manner that decried Scully's ignorance and lack of humour. "Spooky.  The
Ghost. Get it?"

   "Oh come on, Caroline," another woman whom Scully did not know urged at
Caroline's elbow. "Tell her the real reason."

   Caroline sighed theatrically again. "It's really because you can only
see him at night."

   Scully pondered this. The other woman laughed uproariously and poked
Caroline's tailored shoulder. "And you should know, right, Caroline?"

   A loud snicker rippled through the room. Scully felt like she had been
kicked in the stomach. Of all the women to get involved with, he had to
get involved with Caroline Krueger, who was an absolute shrew of a woman
...

   Caroline's sidekick turned to Scully and grinned at her. "I don't know
how you manage to get any work with that fine speciman sitting so close to
you. How do you do it? He's soooo nice to look at."

   Scully managed a weak smile, but her voice was cool as she replied,
"Aren't we all skilled professionals?"

   That took the wind out of the other woman's sails for a little while,
but Scully knew she could not betray even the slightest flicker of emotion
in front of this flock of geese. She dared not let them think that her
partnership with Mulder was anything but professional;  the truth about
their relationship was too important to her, too close to her heart to let
anyone even guess at its reality. She knew she and Mulder were already
gossiped about endlessly; why fuel the fire? And then there was this
unpleasant matter of Caroline and Mulder ... She opened the tube of
lipstick and concentrated on touching up her mouth, ignoring the wave of
jealousy that flowed over her like a noxious stream.  

   Caroline was still staring at her with a suspicious gleam in her eye. 
"So what's the story with you and Mulder anyway, Agent Scully?" she
demanded in a jovial voice that belied her malice.

   Scully clamped down hard on the inner voice that shouted contemptfully
at the other woman. "What do you mean, Agent Krueger?"

   "I heard that you two are pretty cozy, if you know what I mean." 
Caroline's eyes had taken on a hard, icy sheen.

   Scully shrugged."We're partners," she said evenly. "That's all.  Don't
believe everything you hear, Agent Krueger."

   The other women in the room had gone silent, avidly cataloging the
entire encounter. Caroline smiled a thin smile of triumph.

   "In that case," she declared loudly so that the entire room could hear
her, "You tell Mulder to call me tonight. I really enjoyed our time
together."  She took out a compact and began to power her nose, but her
eyes were riveted on Scully. "Tell him I'm waiting."

   Scully returned the tube of lipstick to her purse and squirted some
lotion into her right palm, overcome with the sudden childish urge to
squirt the bottle at Caroline. "I'll be certain to tell him." She rubbed
the lotion into her hands and looked at her reflection in the mirror,
pleased that her expression was carefully blank.

   Caroline nodded.  "Make sure of it,  Agent Scully."

   Scully returned the curt nod, glad of having something to do with her
hands so that she wouldn't strangle Caroline as she put the lotion bottle
back.  "Of course, Agent Krueger," she said, her voice a model of
civility. She left the room, back straight, eyes front, feeling the weight
of the other women's stares upon her.

   Back in the basement Mulder was pouring over a series of files he had
found buried deep in the archives, his gaze behind the glasses serious and
intense. Scully put her purse back on her desk and let herself look at him
for a moment, watching him with affection and no small amount of
possessiveness. An inner voice asked her why she felt that way; she
ignored it the way she always did.

   Mulder *was* nice to look at, she agreed silently with the woman in the
washroom. With his sleeves rolled up over his lean forearms and the dark
concentration on his face, he looked like a male model rather than the
infuriating man and maverick FBI agent he really was. Today he wore a
gun-metal grey suit, the pleated pants sitting low on his hips in a way
that was dangerously enticing. Scully hid the little shiver of pleasure
that washed over her as she watched him. 
      
   "Hey Scully," he greeted her. The familiar intensity when he was hot on
the trail of a new case warmed his maple syrup voice as it flowed over
her. "These autopsies have similiar results to those performed on the four
victims of the Dakota Exorcists --  enlarged aortas and hearts. But these
reports don't list anything about adrenaline levels ..."

   Scully frowned, but not too harshly because his excitement had already
infected her. "What year are those from?" she asked, indicating the boxes.

   Mulder brushed away a cobweb on the side of the box. "1951."

   She rolled her eyes as she picked up her phone to reach the Bureau's
travel agent. "Oh, by the way, before I forget -- Agent Caroline Krueger
asked me to pass a message to you ..." She turned a sly smile on her
partner,  ready to enjoy herself.

   He looked up, startled. Scully chuckled at his sudden wariness. "What
did she say?" he asked in the tone of someone dreading a confrontation.

   Scully enjoyed his discomfiture immensely. Being amused was much better
than being jealous, she told herself. "She said -- and I quote -- tell
Mulder to give me a call tonight, I really enjoyed our time together, tell
him I'm waiting -- end quote." She smiled sweetly at him. "Better do it
soon.  I get the feeling Agent Krueger isn't the type to wait patiently by
the phone ..."

   Mulder groaned and ran a suddenly nervous hand through his hair. 
"Scully, did you ever see 'Nightmare on Elm Street'?"

   She glanced at him, eyebrow raised. "I remember seeing it at the
drive-in while I was at college. Why?"

   "Because you'll know what I mean when I call her a female Freddy Krueger."

   Scully nodded sagely.  "I see."

   He fidgeted. "It was a mistake," he mumbled. "I was bored, I'd been
drinking ... I was over at the Minuteman bar last week, she was there, we
just ..." He looked like he was seven years old, caught with his hand in
the cookie jar. "I don't want to see her again."

   Scully held up a hand. "Stop, Mulder," she told him. "I don't need the
gory details. All I'm doing is delivering a message. So call her, tell her
you're very busy -- or better yet, sit her down and explain to her like a
polite human being why it's just not going to work so she should get on
with her life. It's very easy to do." She allowed herself to smile at him.
"After all, you've faced liver-eating serial killers and mutant bugs of
all kinds  -- you should be able to face a woman scorned." She turned back
to book the flight to Fargo, North Dakota. That sounded pretty good, she
told herself, feeling a little more in control of the situation.

   Mulder was silent, staring unfocused at his "I Want to Believe"
poster.  At last he turned back to her. "Sounds to me like you're -- dare
I say it? -- an old hand at getting dumped, Scully?"

   "Who, me? Ridiculous." She raised an eyebrow and gave him her most
determinedly skeptical look.

   Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. "Yeah, of course it's
ridiculous. Whatever was I thinking?" He went back to looking at the box.

   Scully swallowed the teasing retort she had prepared and began to look
over Mulder's paperwork. Caroline Krueger? There was just no accounting
for some people's taste ... But at least she was assured it wouldn't
happen again. Jealousy struck again and even though she knew it was highly
irrational threw a darkly murderous look at Mulder's back.  At least it
better not happen again ...
   

Friday 7:20 p.m.
Annapolis

   The box of files was old and musty and the dust had kicked up a
murderous tickling in her nose. Scully sneezed thunderously as she tried
to balance the box on her knee while searching for her house keys in her
coat pocket.  An icy wind had blown up, promising snow, and she could hear
Mulder's teeth chattering as he waited impatiently for her to open the
apartment front door.  He was invisible behind a precarious stack of three
boxes that dipped and weaved in the chill December night.

   "Hurry up, Sc-Scully," he chattered. "I'm f-freezing my unmentionables off."

   "It wasn't my idea to spend Friday night looking through these boxes
for similiar case studies," she reminded him.  

   "Oh, I forgot, you're such a party animal on Fridays," he scoffed, dark
voice muffled behind the boxes. "Besides, these are X-Files.  I highly
doubt we're going to find anything about them in Quantico's forensic
databases."

   Scully pushed the door open at last and sneezed again. Mulder
practically fell over her as he followed her inside to her apartment. When
she opened the door, the topmost box slid off and spilled its content of
dust-covered files all over the floor of the living room. They both
sneezed.

   Scully doffed her coat and set the box  she carried on the dining room
table, the only available space in her place big enough for them to work
at. Mulder followed suit, placing his remaining armful beside hers and
then threw his coat over the back of a chair like he owned the place.

   She made a pot of coffee and took down a pile of take-out menus from
the top of her refrigerator. "Chinese, Italian, Indian, or Thai?" she
asked.

   Mulder was kneeling on the floor, trying to make sense out of the
jumble of folders. He was a study in concentration, dark hair falling into
his eyes, his lower lip stuck out in a most appealing fashion.  A
wriggling fish of a feeling, one that flopped in her stomach whenever she
looked at him, twisted warmly in her abdomen. Scully ignored the weird
little flip; it had been happening more and more lately. It was extremely
bothersome but rather delicious at the same time. She clamped down hard on
the feeling and made it go away.

   He glanced up at her. "You have a Thai place that delivers in this
neighbourhood? Bonus. Get some lemongrass soup for sure, ginger chicken
... and some sticky rice. Oh -- and some kind of curry."

   "Think that's enough food?" she asked sarcastically.

   "For now," he replied, that fleeting half-grin darting across his face
and bringing the weird little flip-flop back to her stomach. "We can
always call back if there's not enough."

   She hid her grin as she placed the order. She enjoyed having Mulder at
her house; his presence filled and warmed her home, so lately
uncomfortable in the wake of Melissa's shooting. Sometimes the idea that
someone had been able to break in and stand in her house  -- in her *home*
-- caused her heart to pound and her breath to catch in her throat, an
uncommon feeling of panic surging through her body. Mulder, with
characteristic empathy and concern, was unspoken in his desire to make her
feel comfortable again, and had been spending a lot of time with her here.

   She knew why he had not spoken with her about it. Of late, it seemed
that too many things had been coming between them -- his obsession with
Lucy Householder, his refusal to see anything miraculous about Kevin
Cryder -- all of these things had seemingly changed their relationship. It
was as if both of them had stepped back from each other, almost afraid to
be any closer. More and more things were being left unsaid between them.
She felt instinctively that they were at some kind of crux, that things
had to change, but she could not even begin to say what shape the change
would take. 
 
   She didn't know what was happening with them. On the surface he was the
same old Mulder; dry, laconic, obsessed, paranoid, but he never seemed to
want to let her in as much as he had before. It was as if he were ...
hesitant. She couldn't put her finger on it, and had found herself
retreating from him as well. Moments like this, though, when they worked
together late made everything seem fine again, their easy comradery making
them both comfortable with each other.

   The amount of preparation for the new case -- tagged the "Dakota
Exorcist" by Mulder -- was huge, simply because neither of them relished
the idea of being in Fargo, North Dakota in the middle of December, and so
close to Christmas. They had tacitly agreed to do as much preparation as
they could before their flight Sunday evening so they could be in and out
as quickly as possible. 
 
   Food ordered, Scully took off her suit jacket and perched herself on a
chair, sifting through the files as a way of organizing them. Mulder
unknotted his tie and draped it casually around his neck, nose already
buried in the contents of a dusty green file.

   The phone rang and Scully, thinking it was the Thai restaurant,
answered with a casual, "Yes?"

   There was a slight pause, and then a familiar, silken woman's voice on
the other end. "Agent Scully. Mulder's there, isn't he? Put him on the
phone. Now."

   Scully looked at the phone in her hand and was too surprised not to
obey. "Uh -- yes, hold on." She put her hand over the receiver and hissed,
"It's for you."

   Mulder was puzzled. He took the phone gingerly. "Mulder", he said, and
then a stricken, embarrassed look crossed his face. He listened for a
minute, then turned his back on Scully so that she couldn't see his face.
"No, I can't.  I'm working. No, not tomorrow, either ... I'm just busy,
that's all. 
No --" His shoulders hunched and she could only guess at the furtive look
on his face.

   Scully was too interested in the conversation to heed the tangle of
emotions she felt over this development. Swallowing the unpleasant taste
of jealousy, she doodled on a notepad on the table before her and tried to
be casual, straining to hear.

   "That's not a good idea, Caroline," Mulder said, his voice strained
with nervousness and embarrassment. "No -- look, this isn't a good time
... I don't know when there would be a good time.  Look, maybe this just
isn't -- it has nothing to do with that -- I'm just ... This conversation
is over, Caroline." He rubbed his jaw in the way he did when he was
nervous or thinking on his feet. "No -- look. This is obviously not the
time or place to discuss it. Good bye, Caroline."

   Mulder hung up the phone and gathered up the files on the floor, mouth
set in a grim line. Scully watched as he stacked and restacked the files,
then brought them to the table. "I'll get started on the earliest ones,
okay?" He was unable to meet her eyes.

   Scully nodded. "Whatever you like," she said. She doodled a face with
huge, staring eyes on her notepad, then looked up at him, her curiousity
insatiable. "Mulder, did you just -- I mean -- don't take this the wrong
way, but did you just break it off with Caroline Krueger over the
*phone*?"  

   He flushed. "No," he said curtly. Then his face relaxed into a weird
little half-grin. "Besides, there was nothing to break off in the first
place ... thank God."

   "Okay."  She drew a wig and a hat on the face and couldn't resist the
mischevious little voice that whispered in her ear, wanting to tease him. 
"Huh. Caroline. So now I know about Andrea, Bethany, Caroline, Deirdre,
Evelyn, and Frances," she said casually. "Are you working your way through
the alphabet or what?"

   "Now hold on --" Mulder took a deep breath and tried to smile. It came
out a little tepid. "Are you keeping track or something? Who's Andrea?"

   "The woman at the video store."

   "Oh -- that Andrea." He shuddered. "She knows what kind of movies I
rent. Besides, she's practically still in high school. Isn't that called
cradle robbing?"

   Scully ignored his plaintive tone. "Bethany in Microfiche," she continued.

   "It's nice to be nice ..."

   "Deirdre in the motor pool --"

   "Deirdre yelled at me the last time I brought the car back, said it was
too muddy and hadn't I ever heard of a car wash?"

   "Evelyn at ISU --"

   He made a dismissive wave. "Evelyn's desperate. Besides, she's got more
psych credentials than me -- going out with her would be like being in
therapy."

   "Frances at ATF."

   "She carries a bigger gun than I do."

   "Then why is Caroline practically stalking you?"

   "It wasn't like I'd even dated her seriously!" he blurted out, raising
his eyes to hers. She saw the truth there, but she also saw confusion and
a rising petulance. "Caroline is a perfectly interesting woman, albeit a
little egotistical. It was completely casual and in retrospect may have
been a mistake, but I -- it's --" He threw a pile of files violently to
the table and they slid immediately onto the floor in a cloud of dust.


Part 1 of 2 ends ...


===========================================================================

From: xfactore@inforamp.net
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: *NEW* All I Want is You 2/2
Date: 14 Mar 1996 22:18:46 GMT


ALL I WANT IS YOU 2/2
by Terri Monture (TL_Monture@mail.Magic.ca or xfactore@inforamp.net)

See disclaimers in Part 1 ...------------------

          Scully's nose tickled insanely, but she ignored it. She was
frozen to her chair by Mulder's uncharacteristic display of emotion. He
was laying himself bare for her.

   He sat down and slumped. "It's just so hard.  I mean ... I want to meet
someone, I want to go out and have a good time, but then the woman wants
to have a RELATIONSHIP. I don't have the time for one. And I know I'm no
good at them, either. I forget stuff -- not the really important stuff,
and not deliberately, but stuff you need to remember when you're with
someone -- it just kind of leaves my mind -- and you know how often we go
out of town.  She thinks I ignore her, she gets impatient and dumps me. Or
she starts demanding things of me, so I get impatient and dump her." He
sighed and raised those intense green eyes to hers.

   Scully nodded slowly.  "I see." She doodled a body and dress for the
face, thinking furiously. What was he telling her? she wondered. An
emotional force shimmered between them for a second, so palpable that
Scully could almost see it in the air.

   She found refuge in pragmatism. "You know, Mulder," she said, tapping
the pen on the table for emphasis, "Even if Caroline Krueger is a harpy
from hell, you behaved really badly just now. No one likes to be dumped
over the phone, for god's sake." She sighed. "That was just classic
male-type person behaviour, the stuff that fills the columns of women's
magazines under the title of "Why Men Are Jerks." Why couldn't you just be
upfront with her from the beginning? Why couldn't you just say to her,
'I'm sorry but this just isn't going to work out?'"

   "I did," he protested. "She didn't want to hear it."

   Scully was undaunted. "So you say," she said in a calm and measured
voice. "But do you know why it always happens this way?"

   A  muscle jumped in his cheek. "No. Enlighten me, O Great Relationship Guru."

   "You avoid intimacy like the plague. You want all the fun of the
seduction, of the hunt, of all that wild rollercoaster stuff in a
courtship. But you don't want to deal with the consequences. You want to
have the physical nearness but you don't want to get close enough to deal
with the other person and the fact that they're a real human being."

   He was silent for a minute, eyes boring into hers. Scully wanted to
squirm under that unwavering perusal but dared not. She managed to keep
herself still.

   At last he said softly, "Did it ever occur to you, Scully, that maybe
the real reason I'm not good at casual relationships is because there's
someone else involved?"

   An ocean of meaning welled in his eyes. Time stood still. Scully felt
her mouth drop open, recovered herself quickly and looked away. Her
fingers flew to the tiny gold cross she wore at her throat, as they always
did when she was anxious. Her heart pounded. She couldn't deal with what
he had just said. His words had opened an abyss at her feet, and if she
acknowledged him, the weight of what he was saying -- and of what she felt
-- would plunge her headfirst into that black gaping maw of emotion. 
Everything she knew, everything that she was, would be no more. Because
there would only be Mulder, and she did not know how to deal with that.

   The doorbell rang. Scully was on her feet instantly, thanking God for
the interruption. Their food had arrived. She busied herself with paying
for it, getting out plates and cutlery and making a place on the table for
the steaming food. Mulder watched her impassively, but there was a dark
gleam in his eyes that made her acutely uncomfortable every time she
glimpsed it.

   At last he took pity on her. "So you're telling me I should never break
up with anyone on the phone or risk a lifetime on the women's
blacklist?"   He picked up a fork and pushed food around on his plate with
it. His tone was light; he was changing the subject for her.

   She nodded, spreading a paper napkin on her lap. "That's right. Or else
you'll be a complete and utter cad."

   He smiled. It was a devastingly disarming smile, designed to tumble the
walls of her resistance to his charm. She felt the corners of her mouth
twitch in an answering smile. "A cad? Like a scoundrel, or a rogue, or
something swashbuckling like that?"

   "It's not meant to be complimentary," she warned him. "And how come you
go around handing out my phone number to your girlfriends? One day you're
going to get involved with a loony and she'll come after me instead of you
..."

   "I didn't give Caroline your phone number. There's no way I would do
something that rude, you know that." He regarded her with a frank and
serious expression. "And Scully -- for someone to get to you would have to
be over my dead body. You know that, too."

   Scully raised her eyes to his, filled with a joyous glow that warmed
her soul. "I believe you, Mulder," she whispered. She picked up a file,
began to read it. "Caroline must be a very resourceful girl, that's all."

   Mulder was quite still for a moment, then said in a small voice, "She
probably looked in your personnel file. Her best friend is in Human
Resources."

   "That's just great," she muttered. At his uncomfortable look, she
relented, but couldn't resist the urge to tease him one time. "So is it
true that you only visit females at night?"

   "I'm here, aren't I?" he bantered back. "It's dark, you're a female,
I'm here ... why do you ask?"

   "Oh, no reason .... just checking." 


Saturday 12:03 a.m.

   They had moved from the table to the sofa. Files were spread all over
the floor and a fat beeswax candle burned on the coffee table, sending out
a soft honeyed glow. Scully yawned hugely, trying to cover her mouth with
the back of her hand. Mulder noticed her flagging enthusiasm and snapped
the file shut. "Do you want to call it a night, Scully?" he asked, his
voice gentle with concern for her.

   She shook her head. "No -- look, there's only a few more files to get
through. We can finish them. I just want to take a break. Do you want some
tea?"

   He stood up and stretched his arms high over his head, his shirt riding
up over his taut belly. Scully peeled her eyes away from the bare skin,
the line of hair that disappeared into the front of his pants. "Sure, that
would be great." He went over to the stereo cabinet and asked, "Do you
mind if I put some music on?  I need some atmosphere ..."

   "Are you saying you don't like my atmosphere?" she shot back in a mock
pained tone. 
 
   "No, I love this atmosphere, I just want to live in it fully. Isn't
that what Martha Stewart is always going on about?"

   She put the teakettle on the stove. "How is it you know about Martha
Stewart, Mulder? Looking for some decorating tips?"

   "Yeah, I need to get tips on how to arrange all my fresh flowers
properly ..."  He concentrated on putting a CD in the player. Soon the
opening chant from the Beatles' "Let it Be" filled the room, John Lennon's
nasal Liverpudlian voice calming her.

   Mulder came into the small kitchen and leaned against a counter,
watching her sort through a canister full of teabags. "So am I forgiven
for Caroline Krueger? I know you've been stewing about that all night ..."

   Scully felt like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming
train.  "I guess so," she managed to say, the words strangled in her
throat. He was psychic, that was it. Mulder had always been eerily
prescient -- and especially so when it came to her.

   He lifted an eyebrow at her distress. "What's the matter, Scully? Am I
bothering you?" His voice was soft and hypnotic.

   "What -- what do you mean?" The floor felt suddenly unsteady beneath
her feet.

   "Because you bother me." His eyes captured hers and held her prisoner
though not against her will.  

   "Mulder ..." His name escaped her lips in an almost-groan.

   "Would you believe me if I told you a secret?" He whispered the words;
she felt like a butterfly pinned beneath his gaze.
 
   "What?!?" Scully dropped the canister from her suddenly nerveless
fingers and like a cat he was beside her, helping her pick up the teabags
from the floor. He scooped them up with his long fingers and put them into
her hands, and froze when their skin made contact.

   They stared into each other's eyes.

   Scully had always been acutely aware of his presence, of the fact that
a very attractive male spent a lot of time with her. Of late, he had the
power to unsettle her, even by coming within arm's reach; but now as
Mulder stared down in to her eyes, she could smell him, a familiar and
beloved blend of soap and a rich musk that seemed to come from his very
pores. She found herself mesmerized by the swell of his chest as he
breathed, by the way his long eyelashes curled against his cheek as he
blinked.

   With a start she realized that she loved this man. Worshipped him,
adored him, wanted him in a way she had never before wanted anyone else,
and hoped that she would never again. He was here; he was her past, her
present, and her future, holding her heart in his hands ... and she dare
not let him know it. And that was when she knew what a coward she truly
was, to be chained so tightly by her ideas of ethics, professionalism, and
pride that she couldn't let herself be truthful with the man that she
loved.

   It frightened her to know that he saw past her cowardice, with his
intuitive mind and empathic heart, to reveal the truth to himself and to
her.  But strangely ... this realization did nothing but make her love him
even more.

   His eyes burned into hers. "I want you, Dana. You are the world to me. 
You make me feel safe, you make me want to breathe. You are my only true
one. All I want is you." He pulled her hands to his mouth and pressed a
warm, soft kiss on the back of each hand, the question in his eyes. Scully
felt as if she were melting, her insides shivering into a puddle of warm
sticky goo. She tried to pull away, but his grip on her was strong and
implacable.

   "Say it, love," he whispered. "I know what you want to say. Let me hear
it."  His mouth was so tantalizing close; his breath on her cheek warm and
moist.  "Say yes."

   She bit her lip. "No ..." she whimpered, drowning in a whirlpool of
confusion and desire and trying desperately to hold on to some semblance
of sanity. "No ... Fox, I -- oh god ..." She swallowed hard but was unable
to stop looking at him. The world spun and the truth was torn out of her.
"Wait, I -- yes ... I do,  oh god, how I love you ..."

   He let go of her hands to grip her firmly by the arms, crushing her to
his chest. "Yes," he told her. His eyes were luminous in the faint light
of the kitchen. The emotion engulfed her and with a soft moan, she wrapped
her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth down to hers with all the
hunger of three years of wanting.

   On the stereo, Lennon and McCartney were harmonizing in a soaring,
achingly beautiful chorus,  "All I want is you/and everything can be just
like you want it to/  because ..."*

   His hands were on her, all over her, seeking her warmth urgently but
gently, as if she were a gift he was somehow afraid to open. All the
confusion, the hurt, the distance and the jealousy that she had buried in
her heart melted away like snow before a fire and she tightened her grip
on him, unable to let him go. Just as her legs gave way, Mulder scooped
her up and carried her to the living room, falling with her onto the sofa.

   Scully's universe was reduced to the feel of his mouth on hers, the
soft firm flesh open beneath her lips and his teeth and tongue warmly wet
when she found them.  The passion between them was as euphoric and as
entrancing as a drug; they didn't even bother with taking off their
clothes, but found a way past his pants and her skirt and pantyhose.  His
skin was hot, like he had a fever; she was cool and silken beneath him and
when she came she cried out loud until he silenced her mouth with a kiss
as his body convulsed in a shiver of pleasure. He moved slightly and with
a thump they rolled off the sofa onto the floor, scattering files and
making the candle flicker wildly, shadows dancing around the room.

   He wouldn't let go of her, his arms tightened around her body as if he
were drowning and she was there to save his life.  "Dana," he whispered
into her ear.  "What do you want? What should I --"

   She stopped his question with a finger to his lips, the tip pressed
into the full bottom lip in the way she had always wanted to. "All I want
is you," she whispered back. 

   This time they undressed.  He was slower, she was wilder; she felt like
her heart was going to explode.  And when it was over, he crept into her
bedroom and found a quilt to cover them with.  He snuggled his head into
her shoulder and with his hand resting on her breast, fell quickly asleep.

 
   In sleep, Mulder was relaxed and looked far younger than his 34 years.
The careworn cast to his eyes and the frown lines grooving his face and
around his mouth had vanished. His head was thrown back, revealing the
smooth skin of his neck with its sweet, slight bulge of Adam's apple and
the pulse beating in the hollow of his pale throat.  His amazing mouth was
slightly open and she was overcome with the urgent,  burning desire to
take his full bottom lip and nip it gently between her teeth, waking him
up one more time...

   She lay stiffly beside him, her mind dizzy with the enormity of what
had just happened.

   The snow silently sparkled outside the window like a million diamonds
flung over the ground by Mother Nature, and the sky was a black velvet
mantle spread across the world. Scully pulled the quilt tight around her
shoulders and sat up; Mulder moaned softly in his sleep and turned towards
her, one knee shifting into the warmth on the floor where she had just
lain beside him. She held her breath but he quieted ...
   

         THE END


* from "I Dig a Pony"; The Beatles' LET IT BE, copyright Capitol Records 1969