From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 27 Jun 2004 09:25:40 -0000 Subject: Easier Said . . . by salliejohns Source: direct Reply To: salliejohns@comcast.net I wrote this story in response to a challenge on another list. For the single challenge element, see the Author's Note at the story's end. AUTHOR: salliejohns CATEGORY: MSRish, vignette RATING: PG SPOILER: Paper Hearts FEEDBACK: salliejohns@comcast.net (Just the good stuff, please.) URL: http://www.geocities.com/salliejohns927/ DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no infringement intended, no money changing hands AUTHOR'S NOTE: at the end of the story ~~~~Easier Said. . .~~~~ Sitting alone in her apartment wasn't the way to handle this. She should be around people, *needed* to be somewhere bright and noisy. By herself on the sofa, in the dark, was definitely bad-no way to keep from running the scene over and over again in her mind. It seemed that it was all she could think about, and thinking about it was wrong-crazy in fact. Maybe she could go to the mall-it would probably still be semi-crowded, even though it was getting kind of late. Late. . .a bar. A bar or a club would be good; she could have a drink and lose herself in the music, and not really focus on anything. The problem was, Dana Katherine Scully was a lady, and ladies don't go to bars or clubs unescorted, especially at night. Damn! There had to be *somewhere* she could go to get away from her thoughts. Her thoughts were only going to get her into trouble; that she was sure of. She needed to go somewhere that wasn't work-that would be even worse-and wasn't here. Someplace *neutral.* She could certainly go visit her mother, but she was pretty sure her mother might be suspicious if her by-the-book daughter showed up at her front door at 9:30 at night. Actually, it would be after 10 PM by the time she arrived. It would be difficult to convince her mom that the visit was purely social. Questions would be asked, and eventually it would all come out. A discussion would follow, albeit one-sided, and Scully didn't want to talk about it. She didn't even want to think about it. This was ridiculous! She was obsessing. Obsessing over a stupid incident that didn't mean a thing. She had more willpower than that. She could sit right there in her apartment, and *not* think about it at all. There were plenty of other things to think about. She could watch TV, or catch up on some reading. There was always a small stack of medical journals that she wanted to review, and didn't the local news come on at 10? She didn't seem to be moving. She willed herself to pick up the remote control, and turn to the local news channel. "Coming up on the Ten O'clock News, we have more on the shooting of John Lee Roche in the abandoned bus yard." She clicked off the television with a bit more force than was necessary. *That* certainly wasn't going to help. She picked up the most recent copy of "The American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology." She was sure there was an article she had thought would be particularly interesting, but try as she might, she couldn't seem to locate it in the Table of Contents. All this avoiding her feelings, combined with the late hour, were causing her thoughts to become slightly muddled. Exactly what would be so bad if she sat for a few minutes before going to bed, and reflected upon what had happened in the office earlier in the evening? OK. She had gone into the office to give Mulder the results of the tests that had been done on the last cloth heart. Nothing wrong with that. The heart didn't belong to Samantha's nightgown, but she didn't think Mulder really expected there would be a match. She told Mulder confidently that they would eventually find the name of the little girl that had worn that nightgown. That was no lie told to boost her partner's spirits. She knew Mulder, knew his determination. She told Mulder, in her kindest, most caring voice, to go home and get some sleep. He looked so lost, so vulnerable, and when her comment made him chuckle wryly, she'd smiled with him. Nothing wrong with that. Oh, wait. It was what happened next that was the problem. She'd moved closer to him, and Mulder had reached out to hug her. They'd hugged before, but his arm had never snaked around her *there* before. He'd never rested his head against her breasts. The action had caused a quick, hot spark deep inside her, and she was caught wildly off-guard. Ruffling his hair lightly, she had moved away immediately. That wasn't a sensation she was accustomed to experiencing with Mulder-not at all. He was her partner, her friend. Hell, he was probably her best friend, and best friends don't create that kind of feeling in one another. Not that she hadn't enjoyed it--that was the thing that troubled her most. It had felt really good, and kind of right, and the realization of *that* was what had caused her to back up abruptly. She remembered feeling giddy and excited, and by the time she had reached the hall, she could feel her cheeks flaming from embarrassment. The experience had been more than pleasant-she'd been stirred sexually. Dana Scully understood sexual stimulation. She could even explain the physiology of it. What completely floored her however, was that Mulder had been the source of this excitement. Mulder. Her best friend. Had excited her. Sexually. Oh, my God! She was sexually attracted to Mulder! She and Mulder had been partners for four and a half years, and she was just now discovering he turned her on? Well, there had been that silly, little, school-girl crush she'd developed shortly after she and Mulder had begun working together on the X-Files. But, that had been nothing more than a harmless, temporary infatuation. It hadn't made her pulse race until she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. It had never rendered her weak-kneed and. . . .uh, wet. No, this was something completely different, and it scared the shit out of her. She couldn't have *that* kind of feelings for Mulder. *Could not*. They had to work together, back each other up, face the "bad guys" together. They couldn't afford to be. . . involved. It was dangerous, risky, foolhardy. Their feelings could be used against them, and besides, what made her think the feeling was even vaguely mutual? *This* was why she needed some kind of distraction. This kind of thinking--exploring these unexpected feelings--this could get her into trouble. It was best if she just tried to forget the entire incident. Forget it. Don't think about it. Thinking about it was wrong, and she knew it. She knew it was wrong, but she did it anyway. fin AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was written for the Believe The Truth Quick Fic Challenge. The only required element was the use of the sentence: "She knew it was wrong, but she did it anyway."