mTITLE: Cruciatus AUTHOR: Justine MacDonald EMAIL ADDRESS: justmacx@hs-online.de Date: Fri, 22 May 1998 20:59:21 +0200 DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, just tell me! SPOILER WARNING: none that I know of RATING: PG CONTENT WARNING: MSR CLASSIFICATION: S/R SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully are stuck in the same hotel room on a case. DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, and Skinner, belong to Christ Carter, Fox, 1013, DD, GA and MP. I ain't makin' no money off this. AUTHOR'S NOTES: Cruciatus is Latin for torture. Thanks to Chris Holzman-my Latin translator! As always, thanks to my editors: Kelli Brown; Regina Harter; Andii (my only sister-in-shippiness editor); Suzita; and Jeannine. Cruciatus by Justine MacDonald If Skinner had been trying to torture him, he couldn't have thought of a better way. They were in the same hotel room, pretending to be newlyweds, and yet, he still couldn't show her how he felt. They were still suppose to be professional towards each other when no one else was around. Scully slept on the bed and he slept on the couch. It was wide enough, but its length left much to be desired. Scully, being so much shorter would probably have been more comfortable on it, but Mulder wouldn't hear of her sleeping anywhere other than the large, luxurious, honeymoon suite bed. They were working on a case that involved a fraudulent real-estate agency preying on newlyweds. The bureau needed two agents to go undercover, and Skinner had volunteered Mulder and Scully for the job. Maybe he thought they would make good newlyweds. Maybe he just wanted them out of the way for a while, working on something innocuous. All Mulder knew, was that sleeping in the same room with Scully, and not being able to be any closer than across the room, was slow and painful torture. He looked at Scully sleeping soundly on the bed, her fiery hair a glorious contrast to the white satin sheet and pillow cases, oblivious to his desire to slip under the covers with her and hold her until the sun rose . . . xxxxxxxxx Mulder woke with a start to a room illuminated only by silvery moonlight filtering through the venetian blinds. Something told him to look down, and when he did he found Dana sitting on the floor beside his couch. "Scully, is something wrong?" She smiled. He always thought of her before himself. "Nothing, Mulder. I couldn't sleep. You were calling Samantha's name and I was just sitting here wondering if I should wake you. Although," she said quietly, looking down, "you've probably gone many nights without someone waking you." She was silent for a few moments, then asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" Scully thought for sure he would tell her it was none of her business, and to go back to bed, but he gave her a small smile, and she relaxed, leaning back against the front of the couch. xxx xx x In his dream, his mother was crying. Samantha had been missing forty-eight hours and there had been no note, no phone calls, nothing to give them a clue as to who had taken her. His mother was crying, his father was his usual calm, cool self, and now Mulder knew why. X xx xxx Dana's hair was like fiery silk as he gently ran his hand through the mass, twirling auburn locks around his fingers. It gave no evidence of the fact that she had been lying in bed for hours. Perhaps she had just brushed it. Fox was aware that he was telling her of his dream-he could feel his lips moving-but not of what he was actually saying. He didn't need to concentrate on the words. He knew the dream by heart. Mulder concentrated on her--the fact that she didn't pull away as he played with the blazing bundle of hair. Xxx xx x He was angry with himself for letting them take her. His father probably didn't care. Bill Mulder cared more about his work than his family. He thought back to that night. Only two nights past, but to Fox, it had seemed like eternity. The game. The television. Her whining that it was his turn. Her scream. He had screamed inside. He focused on the figure in the light. Who was it? On trying to stop him. The man. Who was it?! He had asked himself that question, over the past two days, over and over again, to no avail. his father had told him. he told himself. But he never had. X xx xxx Dana turned to him, and he pulled his hand back. She smiled, caressed his cheek, wiped away a tear he hadn't known he'd shed. "I know, now, that it wasn't my fault, but sometimes . . ." his voice trailed off. His eyes stared into hers. His elbow rested on the arm of the couch, his head propped up in his hand. Scully's hand rested on his cheek. Dana moved closer, brushed her lips against his, kissed him lightly. He was surprised and took a moment to convince himself it wasn't a dream. She pulled away, but before she could apologize, he pulled her back and kissed her passionately. They separated, and he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. He searched her eyes for her reaction. Confusion. Amazement. Shock. No sign telling him she wanted him to do it again. He stood and walked a few paces away. "I'm sorry, Dana. It's my fault for letting this get even a little out of hand." "What do you mean?" Mulder sat on the edge of the bed. "I never should have let Skinner put us on this case." Her brow creased questioningly. "You can't know how much these past few days have been torture for me." He paused for a moment. "You can't know how I feel about you." Dana smiled. Even in the moonlight, he could see on her face the pure elation at hearing his confession. She came and sat beside him, hand on his arm. "Maybe the same way I feel about you." Almost a whisper. "Do you know how long I've wished you would say those words?" Mulder smiled. "Maybe as long as I have. I always thought you knew." He looked over to her, taking her in as he never had before, afraid she'd notice. "I had an idea, but wasn't sure. I thought my perceptions may have been biased." Fox ran his hand through her hair again as they lay back on the bed, falling asleep blissfully. Happy to simply be in each other's arms. End. *axiously awaiting the movie in Europe* :-( Just Mac justmacx@hs-online.de