Subject: NF> Case Solved: Screams of Joy

By: macspooky@erols.com
Rating: R
Category: A

-------------------
They don't belong to me.  They belong to Chris et. al.   I'm
just borrowing again as I have been doing for awhile now.
I'm still broke but having fun.  

I don't care who posts this where as long as my name
remains attached to it.  It can be sent to Gossamer for me if
anyone is so inclined. :)

Spoilers: Early episodes and the film.  In some ways this
anticipates rumours I've heard about the new season.

No Ros run for your lives.  This strong R story is strongly
romantic.  Some bad language and sexual content.



"Case Solved: Screams of Joy" by Macspooky@erols.com


Mulder's thoughts on night time events:


I hear myself cry out.  It is me.  I know it is although it is
distant from me somehow, so wrapped up am I in a world of
physical sensation.  I don't know what I scream. I just do.  
As my body empties itself into the other half of myself, I
shudder so hard I feel as though I will break apart.  I have
felt this sensation before, and yet I haven't, not like this,
not ever and never before with her.  It is the first time.  I
want the excruciating ecstacy to end and to never end, but
finally it has to be over and I collapse, exhausted, like a
rag doll until the aftershocks come wave after diminishing
wave.  It is really finished now.  I am drained and there is
nothing left inside of me.  It is all within her now.


I don't want to move.  I want to stay this way forever, but I
know that I can't.  She is so much smaller than I am and my
weight will quickly become too much for her to bear.   Just
another moment.  I must stay for just another moment. 
Her legs are no longer wrapped around me, and finally the
inevitable must occur.  The one must become two again.   I
could sleep now, sleep forever, but it isn't time for that
yet.  I let my fingers reach down and I touch the most
private part of her.  I touch her until she too is drained and
begs me to stop and her tiny frame curls up against mine
and falls asleep as content as I with the night's events. 
Then I cover us both.


I adore her.  I never imagined that I could love another
person quite this much.  As I feel her breathing next to me,
I wonder when it happened.  It wasn't instantaneous.  I do
know that much.  At first, I didn't even like this woman
who lays beside me now.  Maybe love started that insane
night that I realized that Eugene Tooms had targeted her. 
Maybe that was when the love began.  I do remember the
fear, the terror that I would not reach her apartment in
time.  It was beyond the concern a man feels for a partner. 
I very nearly didn't make it.  Tooms had her down on the
floor of her bathroom and was ready to tear out her liver
when I burst through the door.  


Maybe it was then.  Or, could the love have started the
night we went to spy on the Kindred and Jacob touched her? 
My God, when I saw him on top of her I wanted to kill him. 
She felt so sick afterwards.  I wrapped my arm around her
and led her out of that eerie place and I don't think I really
wanted to let her go.  


I am sure that later, by the time Eugene Tooms was
released from the mental hospital, I already had more than
an inkling of how I felt about her.  When she sat in my car
on that illegal stakeout and called me Fox, I was terrified.  I
had to push her away.  I already knew she was special and I
couldn't afford to feel what I had started to feel.  I told her
to call me Mulder.  I could see that I had hurt her and it
bothered me.  I tried to soften the blow by telling her if she
had ice tea in the bag she had brought for me, it could be
love.  How I wish now that she had had ice tea instead of
root beer.  Maybe I would have faced my feelings right
then.  Maybe we wouldn't have wasted so much precious
time.  Finally, I cannot stay awake thinking about it any
longer.  Sleep crashes down on me.


I awaken early.  I know it is barely dawn.  Something is
different in my life and I'm not sure what it is for a
moment as I lay in that twilight state between wakefulness
and sleep.   A part of me thinks I should get up and go for a
run and then I realize that I can't because my beautiful
Dana is still curled up in my arms, still asleep, and I don't
want to awaken her.


How had last night happened after so many years?  How had
she ended up in my bed?  It started with the laundry I
realize.  We are on a hellacious case in a small town in the
middle of no where, a missing children case.  The bastard
who is temporarily replacing Skinner sent us here.  He
knows it isn't an X-File and I didn't want the assignment. 
He knows my history and he knows how cases involving
kids tear me to pieces, seven of them in this case, seven
missing kids.  Three were found along the highway two days
after we got here....in pieces as my heart always is when I
have to work one of these assignments.  We have no leads
and my famous or infamous insight seems to have deserted
me.  I can't get a handle on this perp.  Nor, it seems can my
partner.  It is as though it is staring us in the face but we
are marking time and accomplishing nothing, praying that
no more children die and yet knowing that more will and
soon if we don't do something.


I refocus my mind on last night. I think it started with
laundry.  Yes...clothes.  We normally rent two motel rooms
but the town where the abductions occurred is so God
forsaken it doesn't have a motel so we ended up here, 30
miles away in one of those places where the rooms are
suites.  It's hunting season and there was only one suite
available so we took it.  We've been here longer than
expected and last night we ran out of clean clothes.  


A person can only stand so much horror, so when my
partner announced that she was going to the laundromat
across the street to do wash, I grabbed my stuff and joined
her.  The very mundaness of watching clothes tumble in a
machine had been restful, almost fun.  We've known each
other so long, we know how to push each others buttons.  I
teased her about the skimpy underwear she was washing.  I
mean I asked her why she bought it.


"I don't know," she replied, "Since I haven't had any in so
long it makes me feel like a nun in drag." 


Now how can you not laugh at a crack like that?  So, she
tossed a pair of my silk boxers in the machine and wanted
to know what was wrong with Fruit of the Loom?  I always
have an intelligent answer prepared. 


"Nothing, unless you are a monk in drag." The laughter
felt good in spite of the fact that lack of nookie is a very
serious matter and hell, it is something we had obviously
both lacked for way too long.  Hell, I'd even tossed my last
condom out of my wallet in front of a soda machine in Texas
in a snit and never bothered by replace it.  As it turned out,
it had gotten blown to smithereens.  Luckily, I hadn't.


Anyway, we came back to our suite with clean clothes and
she took a shower then whipped out the ironing board.  I
just sat there and pretended to watch TV.  In reality, I
watched her.  She was dressed in a terry robe and had a
lock of hair falling across her face.  One doesn't usually
think of a woman as beautiful while ironing, but Dana was. 
The sight was so simple and so lovely that it put a knot in
my stomach.  It hit me just then how much I really loved
her and how I wouldn't be able to deny it much longer.  I
knew I had to, but I wasn't sure I had the willpower.


As I say, we know what buttons to push, so I decided to push
one of hers and distract myself from dangerous thoughts.  A
good argument has a way of doing that.  I asked her if she
would iron my shirt and braced myself to duck the flying
hot iron.  To my surprise, she smiled and agreed to my
request.  Well, if she looked beautiful ironing her blouses,
she looked absolutely radiant ironing my shirt, at least to
me.  I guess it was because no one did that for me... ever,
except the local laundry.  Mom had had maids to do that sort
of thing and none of the women in my life were
particularly domestic.  Seeing someone iron my shirt was a
rare pleasure.  Maybe it's kind of chauvinistic, but I can't
help how I feel.  Anyway,  I was still trying to push buttons
when I kissed the back of her neck and said "Thanks,
Babe." I know it was insane, but I couldn't resist.   I know
how annoying I can be, but sometimes it is fun.


Funny, she still didn't throw the iron.  She just said,
"You're welcome." Then suddenly we were kissing, and
then we were in bed.  It felt like bed was where we
belonged.  Sex felt like the natural thing for us to be doing,
and boy did we do it.   She's a sweet lover, a little shy at
first, but once you warm her up, watch out.  I've never
done it with a red head before.  Of course, she's the only
one I ever will do it with, but if she's typical, well fellas,
go find yourself a redhead.  That's all I can say. 


I close my eyes forgetting last night and just picture her
naked body.  I feel my groin start to ache.  I want to reach
for her and wake her up and fill her with myself again...
and I....oh God, I literally dump her out of my arms and on
to the floor.  I didn't mean to.  It was an accident.  She lands
with a thud on what is a very cute little rear end.


"Huh....what.....Mulder, have you lost your freaking
mind?" she says opening her eyes and realizing she isn't
in the bed anymore and that her butt but is probably going
to hurt like hell.  She didn't use the word freaking though. 
I guess given the early hour she forgot she is a lady, or
maybe after last night, she decides she doesn't have to be
anymore.


"I know, Scully."


"Know what?" she snaps.  She is somewhat disconcerted,
not quite awake.  She doesn't seem particularly surprised
that I dumped her on her ass though.  Annoyed, very,
surprised no.  As I said, we know each other quite well.  


"I know where the kids are."


The last vestiges of sleep leave her in a flash.  Wordlessly
she is up, and somehow we are dressed and on the road.  She
doesn't ask and I don't explain.  I just get on my car phone
and call the local police.  It's like that between she and I,
this silent communication.  It has developed over the years
like the absolute trust and the love.  I apologize for
throwing her out of bed.  She just nods.  The 30 mile drive
seems interminable.


We stand in the cold rain and watch as the paramedics take
away four children, hungry, cold and frightened but alive. 
I think of the three that are dead.  The cup feels half empty. 
Gently, Dana squeezes my arm.  


"You saved four of them, Mulder," she said softly.  "You
done good." 


 We are working now.  I am Mulder, not Fox like I was last
night when I was touching her and she was screaming my
name.  Scully's cup is half full.  She wants mine to be too.


One of the mother's tears herself away from her child and
approaches me.


"They said you are the man that found my baby," she says
in a tearful voice.  "Thank you.  Thank you so much." 


The woman hugs me although I am a stranger, and for a
moment everything is worthwhile.  My cup too is suddenly
is half full.  I realize the press has snapped a picture.  I
don't want to be in the paper but I know that it is good
publicity for the Bureau.  Praise for Fox Mulder will chap
Mr. Newbie's ass too so maybe it won't be so bad.  Then the
woman is gone, leaves in the ambulance with her little
girl, and we watch as the animal control people begin to
remove dogs, puppies mainly.  What better enticement to
lure a child than the promise of a puppy to love?  


"Come with me.  Come and see my puppies.  I'll give you
one if we call your mommy and she says you can have it."  
I could almost hear him saying these words to a guileless
little child.  I might not have gone, but Samantha would
have.  She loved puppies and used to beg for one all the
time.


 Bastard.  He made his living running a puppy mill and used
the helpless animals as a way to lure children to their
deaths.  I should have seen it sooner.  I should have realized
when the sheriff pointed the road out to me and told me
there was a puppy mill and wished there was a way to close
the operation down.  I was so focused on children that I
wasn't paying much attention, and Scully hadn't been with
me then.  She'd been trying to piece together the bodies of
dead kids. 


Suddenly I sense that my partner is alert.  She seems to be
almost sniffing the air.  She hears something now that the
rest of the animals have been removed and it is quiet.  
Before I hear it too, she turns away from me and walks off
toward the trees.  I follow her, follow the sound.  There are
more cages.  Most of these animals are dead, but she finds
two small pups, little fur balls, one black, one white
cowering in a cage.  They are dirty and hungry and when
my partner reaches in for them they come to her
hopefully.  


I realize that they are Pomeranians like Queegqueg.  God,
how I hated that dog.  She lavished so much love on it.  I
realize suddenly that I hated the dog because I was jealous. 
I wanted her to love me that way.  I also realize that I was a
fool.  She already did.  I would just never let her show it.


I took one of the pups from her.  "Maybe they will let us
keep these two," I manage to choke.  I don't really want a
pair of dumb dogs, but somehow I know that she does.  She
wants something little and cute to take care of, and in spite
of what we did last night, she won't be having a baby.  For a
moment, a sharp pain assails me and I realize suddenly how
much I want her to be having a baby.  The puppy feels so
soft and it distracts me as it nuzzles me.  I tell myself that
I can't afford to let my heart melt, but it does.  I know now
that I too could get to love the pair of little fur balls, that
there can't be too much love in a persons life, or too many
to love.  


Dana looks at me and smiles.  Her face is glowing.  My life
is suddenly complete.


Scully's thoughts on the same events:

Oh, God, Oh God.  I hear myself screaming.  He is on me and
in me, finally after all these years.  Something, a flood gate
opens inside of me in a way that it never has before as he
shudders on top of me, his cries stifled by the pillow. 
What had always been a rivulet had now become a raging
river.  He is filling me with himself and it is taking a
sweet eternity.  Finally he collapses until the aftershocks
hit his  body.  I unwrap my legs from his long lean frame
and wish that it were possible to just lie here like this
forever.


It isn't though, and eventually he rolls off me.  I assume he
will roll over and fall asleep, but he doesn't.  He whispers
that he loves me and he reaches down and touches my most
private parts bringing me ecstacy over and over again
until I am totally drained.  I beg him to stop and blackness
over takes me.


I hear a thud and feel a pain and realize that my butt has
just landed on the floor.  One moment the man I adore is
making sweet love to me and the next, I realize, he is
dumping me out of bed.  Had he had a nightmare?


"Mulder, have you lost your freaking mind?" I hear
myself snap.  I didn't use the word freaking though.  I
forgot for a moment that I am a lady in light of the bruise I
knew I was going to have on my butt.  I was not
particularly surprised at the fact that Mulder dumped me
on my ass.  He was Mulder after all and I knew him.  He did
things like that.  If I had been more awake I wouldn't have
asked him if he'd lost his mind because I would have
remembered that he didn't have one to lose to begin with. 
Jeez.  How could a man who is such an idiot be such a
wonderful lover?


"I know Scully...." Well, that explained my short flight to
a hard floor.  Fox Mulder had awakened and in one of his
brilliant fits of insight, he had gotten into the mind of a
child killer.  If he says he knows, I am not about to argue.  I
just get up and get dress and we hit the road.  I don't even
bother to ask him to explain.  It probably won't make much
sense anyway, but he will be right.  He always is.  I've
learned that over the years.


As we drive 30 interminable miles, I think not about the
killer.  There will be time enough to think about that when
we arrive.  I think about us, Mulder and I.  We thought we
could handle sharing a suite.   The bedrooms were separate
after all, and we had disciplined ourselves for many years. 
I'm not sure what about last night was different.  I know
Mulder, the totally undomestic Mulder, enjoyed going to
the laundromat.  I could tell by the way he teased me.  I just
wanted to get the clothes washed and iron a blouse for work
today, but I have to admit he made it fun with his teasing
me about my underwear.  Told him sexy underwear made
me feel like a nun in drag and he told me that silk boxers
made him feel like a monk in drag, which he essentially
was.  We laughed and the laughter was good.  We don't get to
laugh much in our line of work.


I know he was half hoping I'd throw the iron at him when
he asked me if I would iron his shirt.  I wasn't about to give
him the satisfaction though so I agreed to do it.  In reality, I
didn't mind much. He never asked that sort of thing from
me.  He had always treated me with the utmost respect in
that regard.  If he were sexist, I had never been shown it.  


I didn't expect that kiss on the back of the neck though.  We
hadn't thought about kissing since that goddam bee had
stung me in the hallway of his apartment.  I think we were
afraid to, afraid to think about it, afraid to talk about it.  I
was tempted to whack him with the iron when he called me
"Babe" but he looked so cute with that lopsided grin of his. 
Instead I found myself kissing him.  It's funny, but sex just
felt like the natural thing to be doing at that point, so we
did.  Boy did we ever.  There is nothing shy about Fox
Mulder as a lover.  He knows just what he wants and he
goes for it.  This man knows how to zero in for the "kill"
but he sure as hell also knows how to please a woman. 


Mulder turns the car off on a dirt road.  I see the police
have beaten us here.


Standing in this place is a horror.  I have heard about
puppy mills but I have never before seen one. 
Unscrupulous people will literally breed a dog to death
giving them minimum food and care.  This man, no this
monster ran such a place and used the innocent love of
children for puppies to entice them.  There he held them in
his basement.  Who knows what caused him to escalate into
a butcher of the young.  Even if someone could explain it, I
doubt I would understand.  


I see that as four children are being brought out, Mulder
feels sick because he could not save the other three
abducted little ones.   He blames himself for not having
realized where they were being held sooner before we had
found their little bodies in pieces tossed by the side of the
road like so much trash.  Perhaps if I had been with him
when the sheriff had apparently told Mulder about the
puppy mill, I would have been able to help him put two and
two together, but that afternoon I was trying to do that with
body parts, very small body parts.  We do our best work
when we are together.  Maybe we will be together always.  I
hope so.


I squeeze his arm and remind him of the four children he
has saved.  It doesn't seem to help.  I call him Mulder
because this is work and it isn't like last night when he
was definitely Fox.  I didn't speak his name.  I screamed it.


I watch as a woman detaches herself from her child, now
lying on a stretcher, for a moment and comes and thanks
Mulder.  She gives him a hug.  A photographer snaps a
picture.  Mulder doesn't like being in the paper, but this is
good publicity, good for the Bureau and good for him.  I
think the woman makes him feel a little better.  We watch
as the ambulances leave and animal control takes over and
rescues the dogs.  Suddenly it is quiet, but I hear
something, the sound of crying.  It is pitiful.  I follow the
sound through the trees and I find more cages.  Most of the
dogs are dead, but in one cage there are two small puppies,
one black, one white, little girls.  I realize that they are
Pomeranians like Queegqueg.


God, how I loved that dog and how I missed him when he was
gone.  Maybe I wouldn't have cared so much if Mulder had
let me show my love for him but the time wasn't right.  He
wasn't ready and perhaps neither was I.  Instead I showered
my affection on the dog.  Suddenly I want to find a way to
keep these two puppies.  Mulder takes one from me.  


"Maybe they will let us keep these two," he says to me.  He
is choking when he says it.  I know he doesn't really want
one dog none the less two, but he loves me and he knows me
and he sees I want them without my having to tell him.  He
also knows that I can't have babies.  I can see in his eyes
that he is sorry, that he wishes he had been able to put a
child inside of me last night.  Puppies will have to do
instead.  I am resigned and I have Fox.  I just look at him
and smile.  I can't think of anything else to do.

The End