Subject: Fwd: REVISED:  Conversation by Barbara Barnett 1/1
From: Barbara462@aol.com
Date: 1 Oct 1997 16:00:03 -0400

This an old story....never been on the mailing list or usenet group....only
posted on Stef Davis' old archive....and under a different name...This is a
slightly revised version.

barb

Conversation (1/1)--by Barbara Barnett
Spoilers: None, really...but it takes place on an undefined stakeout after
Never Again
VA--DAL (no overt romance)
disclaimer:
The characters of Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter and 1013.  No
financial gain for me...this is just for fun.  If ever they read this and use
it or any part of it, I truly would be flattered.
Summary:  A stakeout, after Never Again.  M and S come to an unspoken
understanding.   I originally posted this story back in March to Stef Davis'
post=ep archive under another name...never been posted to the newsgroup or
x-f creative mailing list, tho.

Write with feedback
ARchive:  may archive as you wish (please remove story of same name by
Barbara462 from the Gossamer archive and put this in its place.)

It had been another long night on stakeout.  Mulder looked at his watch,
knowing the relief agents would be there soon.  It was the fourth day of the
stakeout.  Maybe (hopefully) the last.  The endless sitting had cramped every
muscle in Mulder's long legs, even sitting on the passenger side.  He was
tired and bored.

Scully, eyes only half open, was lost in her own thoughts.  They had
exhausted all of the talk in three days.  Pending cases, potential cases,
even office gossip.  That had been a strange conversation, she thought.
 Scully was more of a mainstreamer.  She coffee klatsched with some of the
other agents on other floors of the FBI building.  She still winced whenever
they commiserated with her for being partnered with "one of the FBI's most
unwanted".  They all assumed she was the duitiful spy, babysitting the
unconventinal Spooky Mulder.  Even now.  Three and a half years later.  "let
them think what they want," she often told herself.  She would never tell
Mulder what they said.  What he assumed was bad enough.  

She would never, never confirm his suspicions.  Scully knew that Mulder
"didn't care".  His "career-be-damned" attitude was his stock-in-trade and a
valuable weapon when it came to solving cases.  But she knew it hurt.  She
saw it in his eyes.  She also knew that the hurt was not from the gossip, but
from the lack of respect of his intelligence.  His intelligence, no
brilliance, is what initially earned him the nickname "spooky".  It had been,
well, spooky--how he could intuitively solve some cases--just "know".  She
also knew he'd be wounded by the fact she might be somehow suffer peer
humiliation because of their connection.  No, she'd never tell him about
those coffee-pot conversations.  Ever.

Of course there was flip side to the gossip about them.  Their relationship.
 The knowing smiles from fellow female agents.  The hated smirks from some of
the seedier male agents.  Mulder and Scully.  Those who didn't pity Scully
for having to work with the spooky one, assumed that she and Mulder were
having an affair.  No one said it to her outright.  It was the looks.  At
first she thought it was her imagination.  Then it hit her.  She and Mulder
were more than partners.  And in their own ways they loved each other,
trusted, respected  and protected each other.  This mutual affection was
obvious to anyone who bothered to watch them together.  And in the workplace
that meant everybody.

"So, Scully, what's the latest from around the coffee pot," he asked wryly on
the third day?  

"Pendrell's dating Carol, the MIS  supervisor; Tom Colton's on disciplinary
leave of absence for insubordination..."

Mulder smiled.  His wide grin created crinkles at the edges of his
hazel/amber eyes.  "Knew you'd like that one, Mulder."  And now, on the
fourth day, they'd finally run out of small talk.  A silence.  Often the
silence between them was gold as they communicated almost telepathically at
times.  But now there seemed to be an understated tension in the air.

Mulder tried stretching a bit from his cramped position.  "Scully, I've got
to get out and stretch a bit or I won't be able to move fast enough to catch
the bad guys, even in the unlikely event that they appear."

"Yeah, sure."  An uncomfortable tension.  He got out of the car.  She
breathed a deep sigh.  She knew.  They needed to talk.  No time like the
present.

Scully tensed as he got back in the car, throwing his suit jacket and tie
carelessly into the back seat.  He put his large hands over his face trying
to rub the tiredness from his eyes and head.  Now, she thought, fighting the
idea.

"We've got to talk."  There.  She said it.  It was over.  The easy part,
anyway.  She closed her eyes.  He couldn't see her eyes.  He needed to figure
it out himself.  

Now Mulder was awake.  He straightened with a jolt, ran his hands through his
hair and looked directly at Scully.  "I know.  I know," he replied barely
above a whisper, his voice raspy.  He breathed deeply, a sigh escaping his
lips.  Where to start.  Scully opened her eyes, averting his gaze.  She had
to avert his gaze.  His eyes were softly focused on her, the exhaustion fused
with an energy within their depths.  He needed her to look at him.  He needed
to read her.  Look behind her eyes.  He moved his head trying to capture her
eyes with his own.  They needed to be honest.  To open their souls to each
other.  "To talk."  Soul to soul.


No glib comments.  No "if there's an iced tea..." remarks would do now.
 Another uncomfortable silence.  Now what?

"Scully," he started slowly, not sure exactly what was going to come out or
how it was going to sound.  "Scully...I...I hope you know what you mean to
me.  I would give my life for you.  Sell my soul to the devil if it meant
sparing you from any more pain.  I know that that is an incredibly dangerous
way to be an FBI agent.  But it's an honest assessment.  I also know that
there are people who perceive these feelings I have for you and would not
hesitate to use that information if they could be confirmed."  Mulder paused,
realizing what he'd said.  He had to continue.  He closed his eyes.  He could
not bear to watch Scully...to have her peer into his eyes now.
 "Scully...Dana...I feel that you are as much a part of me as my heart, my
hand, my sight.  You are the best in me.  My anchor in reality.  The thought
of you ever being again torn from me shatters my soul. 

" I think you must know that...must feel it at some elemental level.  I've
never told you, not because I think it would be unwelcome news, but because
of the dangerous path it could put us upon.  It is something we could not act
on.  We have so many enemies that could use any outward expression of my love
for you against me...against us.  They would know...would know they could get
to me by hurting you.  God knows they already have...when you were
abducted...taken...kidnapped, whatever.  It tore me apart.  I was destroyed.
 Dead.  Only your safe return brought me back.  I can't risk that...can't
risk you.  Now I only have to live with the agony of seeing you, being with
you as my workmate and friend, knowing that's all we can be...outwardly.  The
alternative could be much worse...that they could...that I could never see
you again if they did something to you.  That I could lose both of
us...again."

He opened his eyes, glistening with fear, longing, sorrow...relief at having
finally said what he'd wanted to say for so long.  He closed them again
momentarily, a tear escaping from his long eyelashes.  

Scully had sat motionless, listening.  Her eyes met his.  And her eyes shone
with a radiance made only brighter by the tears within.  In her eyes, Mulder
saw understanding.  She felt anguish as she poured through any possible
workable scenario.  They all ended the same.  More pain for both of them.  He
was right.  She reached for his hand.  She would not be able to say anything
without breaking down into tears.  She knew he would not be able to bear that
without taking her into his arms.  In this situation that would be deadly.
 So she reached for him, knowing he'd understand without a word spoken.  They
sat like that for the last two hours of the stakeout.  Eyes forward, each
lost in the beautiful silence of thinking about the migh-have-beens, knowing
that someday...but not now.  Their hands entwined tightly, never wanting to
let go again.

the end.