Date: Mon, 13 Oct 1997 15:08:24 +0000 From: RogueAngel Subject: For the Best 1/2 by RogueAngel For the Best 1/2 by RogueAngel tmbailey@micro-net.com Category: SA- R is debatable, its a fine line between MSR and UST. Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: none Keywords: MS UST Disclaimer: I don't own them. They belong to Chris Carter and Fox. No infringement was meant and no money was made Distribution: Archive and/or post anywhere, just keep my intro and be sure to let me know. Thanks. Summary: After a hard case, Mulder drinks to forget, but turns to Scully to help him feel again. Thanks go to Cheryl for always being there to listen to me. Thanks for the encouragement, and helping me with this, even if its not part of 'Nine Hours.' ;-) And thanks to Elizabeth Flynn for being my Beta Reader. For the Best By RogueAngel Seacoast Motel November 21 7:32 am Dana slowly pulled herself out of the fuzzy warmth of deep sleep. She managed to open one eye, peering to check her alarm clock. It wasn't there, her mind registered. 'That's odd' she thought. 'I don't remember moving it.' Not that it really mattered. It seemed that her body was conditioned to never let her sleep in past 7:30. No matter how late she stayed up at night, 'BING,' at 7:30 she woke up, like clockwork. Her mind was definitely not waking up quickly this morning. 'Since my alarm didn't go off,' she reasoned fuzzily, 'then it must be the weekend.' She allowed herself begin to sleep again, no longer wondering about her missing clock. Letting the wonderful warm feeling steal over her, Dana snuggled under the covers, ready to drift off into blissful sleep. She would have, too, except that the covers moved. Or more pointedly, her heat source did, as she belatedly realized that the sheets were tangled about her feet. Her body stiffened with alarm, Dana closed her eyes, trying to will away the sleep induced fuzziness. Risking a quick glance down she first noticed that she wasn't wearing her pajamas. She wasn't wearing anything at all. 'What happened?' she questioned, her sleep fogged mind sluggish to respond. The arm draped over her waist was almost expected now. 'Must have taken a sleeping pill...,' she thought as it all came rushing back to her in the blink of an eye. The case. And Mulder. 'Oh, my God,' her mind practically screamed. xXx They had come to the little town just outside of Boston only three days before, as a favor to a friend of Mulder's in the VCS in Boston. Somebody had been kidnapping little girls, molesting them, killing them, and then leaving them to be found in such a way that a member of the immediate family would find the body-usually the mother. The Boston office was stumped. Mulder's friend had called in a favor and she and Mulder had flown up immediately. Used to seeing things that would send other people screaming, neither of the agents had held up well under the strain of this case. It was too much, too fast and too close to home. When they arrived, 12 young girls, ranging from ages 8-10 had already been killed. Mulder immediately immersed himself in the case, working up a profile based on evidence already collected and from whatever she had been able to provide from the 3 autopsies she had performed. Scully considered herself a professional who got the job done, no matter what, never letting her emotions get in the way. But it was harder this time. She had talked with the parents, seen their grief firsthand, and then she saw what had been done to the bodies. The acts were unspeakable. There were things that she prayed the public would never find out about, things about how they were tortured. She knew that her dreams would be haunted with visions of what those poor girls had to live through in their last hours. As a pathologist, she was able to piece everything together into a timeline of events, knowing that they didn't die until the very end. Thirty-six hours after they had arrived the thirteenth-and final, victim had been taken. The town was up in arms, so they had been notified immediately. Mulder was pacing around the room they had been using as a makeshift office, trying to find the last piece of the puzzle that would complete the picture and give them the identity of the killer, when the dossier came in. Both agents knew that the girl didn't have much of a chance, though they hadn't said it out loud. The killer had never kept them alive more than six hours, and even if the girl was saved, the damage done to her would be severe. Mulder had quickly picked up the folder, hoping that something would stand out. Seconds later he visibly paled, and then began his frantic pacing again; lost in the mind of a killer. After reading the file, Scully could only sit back and watch in anguish. There was nothing she could do to help him or the girl. She could only be there to perform the post mortem on the body when it was brought in, probably in the next 24 hours. And help Mulder hold it all together when it was time to go, if he would let her in that close. Two hours later, the pieces clicked in Mulder's head. Four hours later, the killer was apprehended, five miles away in his hunting cabin. But for all the rush and heartache, they were too late to save the last victim, Samantha A. Muldoon, born November 11, 1989. xXx Scully closed her eyes in anguish, forgetting for a moment that she was naked in the arms of the lasat man she ever should be, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. Tears for the girls, their lives snuffed out by the whim of a sick man. Tears for her partner who blamed himself for not being able to save them. And tears for herself, for possibly ruining everything they ever had together. xXx Mulder had held it together for the first hours after the news of the arrest and the finding of the girl's body. They both made their statements to the Boston office and filed the correct paperwork before they left. The ASAC had shook Mulder's hand, slapping him on the back, thanking him for helping them catch the bastard. Mulder had simply nodded, walking towards the car without speaking. Scully knew that he thought that he had failed. In his mind he hadn't been fast enough to save her, Samantha Muldoon. Telling him that his profile saved countless other young girls was a waste of breath, Scully knew. His mind was focused. It was his sister all over again. He had been unable to save Samantha. The tension in the car became palatable as Mulder drove to their hotel. Scully tried to break through to him. "Mulder.." she began. "Don't, Scully," Mulder interrupted, his voice harsh. "Don't tell me that I did a good job, or that there was nothing more I could do. I don't want to hear it." "Mulder," Scully went on, her voice no nonsense. "There was nothing more you could have done." At his snort of derision she continued on, her growing frustration evident. When was he going to learn that the world didn't rest on his shoulders? "The Boston office had this case for 10 weeks, Mulder. 10 weeks! And they couldn't find him. You were here barely 2 days and you got the guy. You got him. He's not going to kill any more." She looked at him. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. It was obvious to her that he was barely holding on. Pulling into the parking lot of their motel, Mulder remained silent until he shut off the car. Looking down at his hands, he softly shook his head. "But I wasn't able to save her, Scully." His voice that of a little boy. "I wasn't able to save her." Watching a lone tear role down his cheek, Scully felt her heart constrict. So much pain for one man to carry. Placing her hand on his arm, she gave it a squeeze, gaining his attention. He looked up at her, the anguish in his eyes piercing her, she knew that she had to say something. "Mulder," she said softly, "she wasn't Sam. She wasn't your sister. You did all you could to save her, but we both knew that once she was taken, she didn't have any time left." "But if I..." "No, Mulder," Scully interrupted harshly, wanting to break through his self pity. "You did all you could, you did your best. You stopped him from taking other little girls from their families. A lot more older brothers will have little sisters to pester them because you found this killer. You did everything you could." She didn't know if she was referring to then or now, but the words seemed to be getting through to him. After a moment of silence, he finally looked at her again, his eyes a mirror of pain and anguish. "I know," he whispered, his voice catching. Clearing his throat he continued on. "Look, Scully. I don't feel much like eating. How about we call it a night? I need a shower, and, I think I'll go for a run or something-to get my mind off of everything." Scully looked him over carefully. "You sure?" she asked, still worried about him. He tried to smile for her benefit, but his mouth barely turned up. "I'll be fine," he stated. "A few nightmares, not a lot of sleep, but I'll be fine." He got out of the car, effectively ending any protest she might make. Looking at him over the car, Scully realized that she had to give him his space. "OK," she agreed, though still somewhat reluctant to leave him alone. "I don't feel much like eating either." They walked in silence to their rooms, each leaving the other to their own thoughts. When they reached their doors, Scully turned to him. "Well, you know where to find me. The connecting door is always open," she said with a small smile. Mulder managed a small grin in return. "I know. Good night, Scully." "Good night, Mulder," she answered, watching him close his door, before entering her room. That had been at 8:00 p.m.. Scully had showered and heard Mulder do the same through the thin walls of the hotel room. While she tried to concentrate on her report, Scully could hear Mulder pacing in the room next door, flipping through channels. 'This is going to be a long night,' she thought, with a resigned sigh. By 9:45, she had given up any hope of completing her report. The images were still too fresh, and she was worried about Mulder. Turning on the TV, Scully hoped to relax a bit before she went to sleep. At 10:00, she heard Mulder's door open. Surprised that he hadn't told her he was leaving she went to her window and watched him walk away. He was wearing his running shoes and a pair of sweats. Running was the way that Mulder worked things out in his mind, often pushing himself past the point of exhaustion. Perhaps if he was too tired, then he could get a few hours of sleep. She breathed a sigh of relief as he walked by their rental car. She hadn't allowed herself to give voice to her worry, but if he went for a drive, who knew how far he could get and what kind of damage he could do-to himself and others. Scully decided to try and get some sleep, but had tossed and turned, images of the little girls haunting her, until at last she decided to take a sleeping pill. One of them had to be coherent tomorrow, and she didn't think it was going to be Mulder. Feeling the pill take effect, she drifted off into a deep, and dreamless sleep. Something startled her awake, she wasn't quiet sure what exactly; maybe the closing of a door. But before she drifted off again, she heard Mulder moving about in his room. 'Better make sure that he is OK,' she thought, glancing at her travel alarm on the nightstand. 2:24. 'Where the hell has he been,' she wondered, her mind not fully awake as she stumbled to the door. "Mulder," she said. No response. Knocking this time, she asked, "Mulder, are you all right?" This time she heard a loud crash, as if a chair or something heavy had fallen over. Quickly opening the door, Scully scanned for her partner. Two things registered in Scully's mind. First off was the image of her partner sprawled on his back, a chair across his chest, the other was the distinctly sweet smell of alcohol. Mulder was drunk. Shaking her head, as much to clear the sleep from her muddled mind as to chastise her partner, Scully moved to take the chair off of him. "Mulder," she intoned, her voice neutral, not wanting to pass judgment on his method of escapism. "What did you do? I thought you were going for a run." Reaching out, she offered him a hand up. Mulder just stared at her, his eyes masked in the dark room. Finally finding his tongue, he answered, "I tried," his voice slurred, "couldn't run fast enough. Found this bar around the block. Nice people," he rambled. "Nice people." In frustration, Scully grabbed his hand and pulled him into a sitting position. He wasn't offering her much help. "You know Scully," he said seriously, looking at her. "What Mulder?" Hooking his arm around her shoulder, Scully began to help him stand. Mulder seemed to be purposely leaning into her, making her bear the brunt of his weight. "I always figured you for a top-n-bottom kind of person." Seeing Scully's questioning look, Mulder proceeded, ignoring the warning in her eyes. "You got really nice legs, Scully. Don't see much of them with all those pantsuits and regulation skirts you wear," he noted with derision. Scully could only gape at her partner. She usually did wear the top and bottoms of her pajamas, but this trip she had forgotten to pack them. She was more than slightly embarrassed that she was standing in front of her partner in nothing more than a t-shirt and underwear. But from the smell of him, he was so drunk that he probably wouldn't even remember anything tomorrow. 'Thank you God.' "Yup," Mulder continued, not seeing her incredulous look, "haven't seen this much of you since that first case in Oregon, but you were wearing a bra then," he pointed out, openly staring at her erect nipples that could be seen through her shirt, there was a good 10 degree temperature difference between their rooms. "You should dress like this more often." "Mulder," Scully warned, too tired to put any force behind it as she lugged him off the floor, "its a good thing you're wasted and probably won't remember anything or I would be tempted to shoot you again, but since you're so incapacitated..." Leaning heavily into her, Mulder made Scully stumble, using that as an excuse to pull her closer. His breath smelling sweet, like creme de menthe or whiskey, against her face. "I have a great memory, an amazing memory. A pho-to-gra-ph-ic memory," he enunciated, "there is no way I'm forgetting this much Scully skin." Scully simply smirked and raised her eyebrow as she managed to get him to sit on the end of the bed. "Uh-huh," she said, turning down the covers. "What's your mother's name." Mulder pondered for a moment. "That's what I thought. Now come on Mulder, lets get you in bed." "Oh, Scully," he said, grabbing her around the waist, "Are you propositioning me?' Looking down at her partner sitting on the bed, she couldn't help but notice how cute he looked. His hair was tousled, and his face was relaxed giving him that little boy quality that he sometimes displayed to his advantage. 'I must be really tired,' Scully thought, muffling a yawn. 'I'm letting his charm have an effect on me.' "Not in this lifetime," she responded trying to ignore her sudden awareness of his charm. Placing his hands back in his lap and bending down to take of his shoes, she reminded herself that one of them had to remain sane and sober, and she didn't think it was going to be Mulder. "Take off your shirt, it smells like you spilled alcohol all over it." Mulder grinned down unrepentantly as he removed the offending garment. "It smells that way because I did spill. You have a very perceptive nose." "Nose, nothing," she responded, not looking up. "It was making my eyes water." The sooner she got him into bed the sooner she could go back to sleep. That sleeping pill was clouding the edges of her brain. Removing both shoes, Scully glanced up to see what was keeping her partner silent. What she saw made her gasp involuntarily. There was nothing little boy about her partner now. He held her like a deer caught in the lights of an oncoming car, hazel eyes that were almost black, capturing hers and not letting go. Something inside of Scully fell into her stomach, releasing a dangerously warm feeling throughout her body. The silence carried on, seeming unnatural after all his drunken chatter. Breaking his gaze, Scully stood up, trying not to notice his naked chest and the slight sprinkling of hair that dusted his sternum. "Come on Mulder," her voice coming out just above a squeak. "Its bed time." A slowly, sexy-there was no other word for it, grin spread across his face, his hands reaching out and grasping her hips. "Why Scully," he drawled, "I thought you'd never ask" And with that, he fell back onto the bed, pulling her on top of him. "Mulder!" she managed to get out, before her breath was knocked from her chest. The more she struggled, the tighter he held her, pressing their bodies closer than they had ever been before. Not ready to hurt him yet, Scully lay still, the warmth of his body seeping into hers and making her even more tired. Lifting her head from the crook of his neck, she looked up at him, only to find her mouth inches from his. She looked into his eyes, and the warmth that she saw spread over her body, invading it until it seemed to be in every fiber of her being. She suddenly realized that she could easily drown in those eyes. The admission terrified her. Why hadn't she noticed before? "Mulder, let go," she demanded, trying to sound as if nothing was amiss. "I'm tired and I want to go to sleep." Smiling up at her Mulder shrugged lightly, his hands beginning to stroke her lower back, kneading the muscles. Scully felt the delicious warmth spread even further. 'Where is my drunken partner?' she wondered. This man holding her was a part of Mulder that she had never seen before, and he certainly didn't appear drunk. "Stay here," he whispered, his breathe lightly caressing her lips. Unconsciously, Scully wet them, the movement of her tongue drawing his attention away from her eyes, allowing her to breathe a bit more freely, but his hands continued their journey, slipping under her shirt. Scully found herself stifling a moan. It had been a long time since she had slept with someone, and the delicious feelings that Mulder was creating inside her were almost overwhelming. She hadn't been in his arms for more than a minute, and yet it felt like hours. Hours of intense foreplay and loving, and all he had done was stare into her eyes, as he stroked her back. 'It has to be the sleeping pills,' Scully scolded herself, 'Mulder is a born tease, I shouldn't let this get to me, it doesn't mean anything.' "I can't sleep here, Mulder," she declared, her voice throaty even to her own ears. She made a move to get off him, but he held her fast. Her words brought his eyes back up to hers, and the look he gave her could only be described as smoldering, his hands tightening on her back, effectively stopping her movement. "Sleep wasn't what I had in mind," he whispered against her lips, as he turned his head so that his lips were lightly touching hers, the warmth of his breath filling her lungs. She should have stiffened. She should've pushed him away, but her body refused to obey her mind. As the sane, rational side of her mind screamed at her to stop him before things went to far and ruined everything: their partnership, their friendship, the rest of her was sinking into Mulder. The touch of his lips sent off an electrical current that rushed through her to her very core. His intake of breath matched her own, as he pulled back and looked into her eyes. She could she the passion in his, the lust. What did he see in hers, she wondered. His right hand came up and gently caressed her face, his finger tracing her eyes, her nose, the curve of her lip. Still she could say nothing, lost in his eyes, unable to form a coherent thought let alone the words to express them. Shifting his body slightly underneath her, he locked one of her legs between his, the friction of his sweats rubbing against her igniting a small fire. Without warning he rolled them over so that he was poised over her, half on top. The sudden movement produced a startled gasp from Scully, but he never broke eye contact. It was as if he knew that if he looked away, Scully would find her reason and this would all end. Holding her gaze his fingers continued to caress her face, soft as butterfly wings, they explored. When he had finally satisfied his curiosity, his hand moved to follow the line of her neck, the hollow where it met with her shoulder, the delicate spot behind her ear. And still, neither spoke a word, their gazes locked, eyes saying everything. Scully could think of nothing. She could only feel Mulder; the intensity of his eyes, the softness of his caresses, the feel of his leg, heavy between her own. 'Now I know what a charmed snake feels like,' she thought in her sensually drugged mind. She was lost within him, a part of her she never realized existed calling out for his touch, needing to feel his skin against hers. As if sensing her thoughts, Mulder finally broke eye contact, his lips following the path that his hand had taken previously, raining soft kisses across her face, leaving no feature untouched, as his hand moved down to the hem of her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her belly, moving slowly, deliberately, up towards his goal, its softness standing erect and aching for his touch. No longer trapped by his eyes, Scully's mind screamed for her to stop him, push him away before things went any further. She tried, but her body felt drugged by his touch, heightened to a point of awareness that she had never felt before, the sound of her breaths, no more than soft pants, the only thing that she heard. "Mulder," she moaned as he began kissing her neck, bringing her hands up to his chest. "We...you should stop." He began nuzzling her neck, the feeling of his whiskers bringing the sensitive skin alive. "Ohh, Mulder," she tried putting some force behind her words, " we can't do this.. we.. can't." He had moved up to suckle on her earlobe, all thoughts fleeing from her mind. Her hands, once trying to push him away, began to pull him closer, running through his hair. "Yes, we can," he whispered softly into her ear, as he began to nip along her jaw line. "Come on Scully," he cajoled, lightly nipping the soft skin of her jaw. "We both need to *feel* again, Dana. We need this." "Yes," Scully whispered, the sound of her name sending shivers throughout her body as she became lost in the sensations he was so effortlessly creating inside her. "No. we can't, the bureau.." the rational side of her mind tried to intercede one last time before all was lost. "The Bureau isn't here," Mulder barely whispered, as his lips finally claimed hers for his own, fulfilling a desire that Scully hadn't even realized she had until she finally fully tasted him. "Yes," she moaned into his mouth. xXx end part 1/2 Seacoast Motel 7:40 am 'Oh, my God,' Scully groaned inwardly as memories of last night came flooding back to her, igniting a blush that suffused her whole body. 'What have we DONE?' Mulder shifted slightly, drawing her attention to the intimate positioning of their bodies. Laying on their left sides, Mulder was spooned up against Scully. His left arm acting as a pillow for her head, her right hand grasped loosely in his. His right arm draped heavily across her waist, his hand cupping her breast. Their legs were intertwined, his top leg pressing intimately against her bottom. 'If he wakes up now,' Scully thought, ' I will die of embarrassment.' How could she have let this happen, she wondered. Ever since she had walked into his basement office, Scully had been attracted to him. Mulder was a handsome man. Maybe not classically so, but there was an intensity to him that she had always been drawn to. She knew what other women in the bureau, both fellow agents and secretaries, thought of her partner. They saw him as a lady-killer, the love 'em and leave 'em, type. Scully knew better. She was lucky enough to know the real Fox Mulder. Behind his puppy dog eyes that women found so alluring, was a lot of pain and loneliness. He didn't love easily and he trusted even less. Scully was proud of the fact that she was one of the few - - only? -- people in his life to have earned both, as his partner and his friend. There was no way she would ever think to jeopardize that on something as common as sexual attraction. She'd be lying if she said that she never 'thought' about her partner in that way, but never, ever, would she act on those feelings for fear of losing everything. Or at least, that is what she had thought. So what had been different about last night? 'Mulder,' her mind promptly answered. Before she could always count on him to tease her and then pull back to a safe distance. It was like a dance with them. Tip toe to the edge, then retreat to the safety of their friendship and working relationship. But this time he hadn't retreated, and she had been lost without that safety net. She could understand his reasons, drunken though they may be. They both had been traumatized by the case. Mulder, because he had to relive his sister's abduction again, and she because she could do nothing to help him. He drank in order to forget it all, and he slept with her in order to feel again. He had said so himself, she remembered. 'We need to feel again, Dana. We need this.' Oddly enough, she didn't feel angry towards him for using her in that way, though something inside her told her she should be royally pissed. But she couldn't. This was Mulder after all. He had reached out in the only way he knew how to at the time. It had taken five years, but he had finally admitted that he needed her. It was a victory of sorts, too bad he had to be drunk to figure it out. 'What kind of victory would it be if it destroyed everything.' When he woke up he would feel guilty that he had used her, though it wasn't like she hadn't enjoyed herself. But she knew that he wasn't ready to blur the lines between them now, or possibly ever. Last night would only complicate things. They could work through it, she knew. Things would be extremely uncomfortable for awhile, and Mulder would have to overcome his guilt, but it could be done, Scully had to believe that, because their only other option would be for her to transfer out of the X-Files, and she just couldn't imagine her life without Mulder in it everyday. A soft snore from her partner, brought Scully out of her thoughts. Shifting slowly, she worked her way out of his embrace, placing a pillow in her stead. After gathering up her clothes Scully looked down over her sleeping partner, her eyes caressing him as her hands had done last night. She prayed for the strength to face him when he woke up. They still had things to do before they could talk about the consequences of last night. With one last wistful glance, Scully went into her adjoining room. A shower was first on her list of things to do. She needed to collect her thoughts and emotions so that she could continue on business as usual, trying to forget the night she spent in Fox Mulder's arms. Seacoast Motel 8:47am Fox Mulder woke up to the pounding of hammers inside his head. It took him several moments to realize that the sound was actually the soft tapping of his partner at the door connecting their rooms. "Mulder?" he heard Scully call, though to him it felt like a scream. "Are you up yet? We have to leave soon." Trying to sit up against the head board, Mulder let out a groan of pain as his head threatened to implode. "Mulder?!" his partner called again, the concern in her voice apparent even in his condition. 'Must have had one Hell of a night,' he thought. Trying to work through the cotton that seemed to be stuffed in his mouth, Mulder attempted to assure his partner, but apparently his vocal cords weren't hooked up to his brain yet because all that came out was "Yeegh." Not satisfied with the coherency of his thoughts, Scully finally opened the door to his room. She had showered and dressed, spending that time thinking about how she should act, what she should say. In the hour that she had had to herself she still hadn't reached a specific course of action. Sure she had some scenarios laid out, but everything rested on him and his reactions. When it was finally time for her to wake him she had knocked without hesitation, even though her stomach was in knots. Hearing his groan of pain and his incoherent words, all thoughts of embarrassment flew from her mind. He was obviously hurting, probably one heck of a hangover, and she wanted to help. She had picked up the orange juice and aspirin that she had bought earlier from the small convenience store across the street. Squaring her shoulders, Scully opened the door to her partner's room. "Morning," she said, proud that she was able to keep the awkwardness out of her voice. She set her purchases on the dresser, clumsily fidgeting with the aspirin. "I thought you might not be feeling too well this morning so I went and got you some orange juice and aspirin. It'll help you feel better." Mentally stealing herself, Scully finally turned and faced her partner. She almost moaned at the sight. He was propped up against the headboard, his head back, closed eyes facing the ceiling, looking incredibly sexy, despite the fact that she knew he was hungover. The sheet only covered him to the waist, which left his naked chest open for her perusal. Her eyes followed the light dusting of hair from where it emerged from under the sheet and spread across his chest. His nipples were small pinpoints in the cool air of the room. She remembered how they felt beneath her lips, the way he moaned when she had lightly bitten them. Then in a rush she recalled how he had taken great delight in teasing her own nipples, licking, and suckling, and nipping until she was writhing in his arms. Suddenly Scully was feeling very warm. Hastily averting her gaze to his face, she studied his profile. The shadow of whiskers on his cheeks gave him a rugged look which she definitely found appealing. While showering she was surprised to find what could only be whisker burns on her chest from Mulder's nuzzling. With his eyes still closed she felt that it was safe to approach the bed. If he wasn't looking her, he wouldn't be able to see the embarrassment and insecurity that had to be written across her face. Stopping beside him she held out the orange juice. "Here, drink this." Blearily, Mulder opened one bloodshot eye and looked at his partner. "I don't think I can hold it down," he managed to get out, wincing at the sound of his voice in his head. "Try, Mulder," Scully insisted. "You're going to have one hell of a hangover. The aspirin and juice might counteract some of the pain." Not prepared to fight her, Mulder reached for the glass, his movements leaden. "OK, but be ready to turn around." Seeing the questioning raise of his partner's eyebrow, Mulder explained. "For when I make a wild dash to the bathroom when it all comes back up again." Glancing down at himself and then at Scully, he said wryly, "It appears that I forgot my pajamas." Not saying anything Scully moved away from the bed, trying to control her blush. Once again fiddling with the aspirin bottle, Scully waited for Mulder to say something. Her stomach knotted in apprehension. "God, how much did I drink last night?" Mulder asked, his voice sounding a little more normal after swallowing some juice. Shrugging her shoulders, Scully turned to face him, resting her hip on the dresser in a semi-sitting position. "I don't know." "How'd I get back here last night." he asked. It was obvious from his expression that he was thinking pretty hard. "You don't remember?" Scully asked, both relieved and somewhat disappointed. Shaking his head and immediately regretting it, Mulder responded, "Nope. I remember spilling something and the bartender telling me I should go home. I think he offered to call me a cab, but....I must have walked back," he astutely surmised. "Must have," Scully agreed, not trusting her self to say more. He didn't remember, she realized. That was good --wasn't it? If everything about last night was blacked out, then they would both be spared the embarrassment of working through all the awkwardness that was bound to enter into their partnership. She could just forget that anything happened. That wouldn't be too hard --would it? For the sake of their partnership she would make herself forget. Of course, he might be testing her. Deciding to let him call the shots in this conversation, Scully simply waited. "I ... I didn't ... embarrass myself last night," he asked with a pleading look in his eyes. "Did I." Scully studied him for a moment. "What could you have done to embarrass yourself?" she questioned, not willing to give him any information unless explicitly asked. "Well," he said, one had blearily rubbing his tired eyes. "If I remember correctly from my college days..I'm not the most coordinated drunk. And I tend to ramble on. What time did I get in?' He had the wherewithal to look embarrassed. Scully looked him over, trying to ascertain if he was trying to get something out of her, or if he really had forgotten everything about last night. She smiled slightly as she realized that Mulder was beginning to blush under her gaze, unable to look at her. Sinking further down in the bed, Mulder covered his face with his hands, his muffled voice reached her ears. "What did I do?" Dana realized that she could have some fun with this. For once, the perfect Mulder memory wasn't working and she had the upper hand. She could really make him suffer for all the times that she had forgotten something -- a rare occurrence -- and he had scoffed at her, flaunting his memory. "Well," she drawled out, a smile apparent in her voice. "You weren't at your most coordinated, and you *did* ramble on some." She tried to control her laughter as he peeked out at her between his fingers like a little boy playing peek-a-boo. His forehead scrunched up in thought. "What did I say," the wariness and hesitancy in his voice obvious. 'He's really worried,' Scully thought to herself. 'I wonder what he thought he might say....or do?' With a jolt she realized that what he was probably worried about had actually occurred. If he had truly forgotten, she quickly decided, it was best to leave it that way. No need for him to force himself to try and remember. "Nothing bad, Mulder," she assured him hurriedly, before he got his wheels spinning. He relaxed instantly at her proclamation. "You came in around 2:30. I heard you bump into something and when I came in you were sprawled on the floor with one of the chairs across your chest. I guess it won the fight." Mulder groaned in embarrassment at the thought of his always- together partner, seeing him in such an undignified position. He rolled over, hiding his face in a pillow. "Great," came his muffled response. Scully's smile was more of a grimace. His chagrin at his actions was humorous, but her mind was mostly focused on the smooth muscles of his back-and the fingernail lines down his left shoulder. 'Oh, god' Dana groaned inwardly at the obvious evidence of her passion last night. 'I scratched him!' Her face, along with the core of her body began to heat up as she watched his back relax and contract as he moved. How could she ever forget, she wondered. Belatedly she realized that he had said something. Startled she brought her eyes to his face, trying to control her blush at being caught daydreaming. "What?" He stared at her curiously for a moment. "Is there something wrong with my back?" he asked. "No," she answered too quickly. Looking away from him she began to fold one of his shirts that had been thrown on the dresser. Mulder continued to stare at her, his reddened eyes slightly amused now. "Are you sure?" he prodded with a grin. "You were staring at it pretty hard." "I was not," Scully snapped impetuously, trying to mask her discomfort with annoyance. "Yes, you were," he challenged. "I might have been looking at your back, but I was thinking of something else. So don't flatter yourself," she responded wryly, hoping to stop the teasing gleam in his eyes. Seeing that he was about to say something else, she cut him off. "You were saying something? about the pillow, I think." Mulder immediately looked uncomfortable, and Scully congratulated herself for taking control of the conversation. She did *not* want to be the one in the hotseat. Mulder looked at her askance. "I said it smells like you." "It what?!" Dana practically yelped, finding herself in dangerous territory again. 'Damn fair skin!' she cursed, feeling warmth seeping into her face. What did he mean by 'smells' like her? Shifting on the bed to get a good look at his partner, Mulder immediately groaned as his head threatened to split into a million pieces. "Your shampoo," he said feebly. "It smells like your shampoo." "Oh," was all that she could say at first, stunned that he actually knew what her shampoo smelled like. Finding her wits, Scully tried to end this particular line of questioning, thinking quickly, she came up with the closest thing to the truth she could tell him, without it being an outright lie.. "After I got you into bed, you wanted me to stay for awhile," she shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "So I stayed." "All night," Mulder asked, his eyes wide. "No," Scully hedged, "I slipped out when you were asleep." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it still made her feel uncomfortable. She knew Mulder trusted her to tell him the truth, but if he didn't remember, then there was no point in telling him and possibly risking everything they already had. "You put me in bed?" he asked, making Scully uncomfortable with the subtle innuendo in his voice, "and stayed here until I was asleep?" 'Well, not exactly,' Scully thought. "Yes," she snapped, hoping that she sounded more annoyed than alarmed. "Scully," he said, his voice low and a gleam in his eyes. "I'm not wearing anything." Scully's heartbeat sped up at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, and the meaning behind his words. Hoping she sounded cool and collected, Scully smiled slightly at him. "I took off your shoes and socks, "she stated. "You did the rest." Which was true. He took off all of his clothes -- along with all of hers -- but he didn't need to know that. "Oh," Mulder responded, having the grace to look slightly embarrassed. But then his eyes became unfocused as his brow creased in thought. "That explains the dream," he mumbled to himself. At first, Scully thought he looked like he might pass out, then after hearing him say something about a dream, she realized that he was trying to think of last night. Afraid that a stray memory might have clicked in his mind, Scully attempted to distracted him. "Mulder, are you all right?" she asked loudly, trying to break his concentration. "You look like you're about to pass out." Looking at her again, his eyes came back into focus, he stared at her for a moment, making her feel uneasy. Shaking his head slowly, he gave her his patented self-deprecatory grin. "No, I'm fine. I was just remembering part of a dream. No big deal." "Oh?" Scully asked, her voice displaying a nervous tremor, that thankfully was lost on a preoccupied Mulder. "Anything you want to share." He looked at her for a moment, and shook his head. "No. I don't remember much. It's not important." Scully nodded, afraid to let herself think. 'It wasn't important,' she repeated to herself, her heart squeezing in her chest. She felt ridiculous for feeling-what? Disappointed? Or for feeling anything at all?. It wasn't like she wanted him to remember what happened, maybe his dream hadn't even been about last night. But there was a part of her that wanted last night to have made some kind of impression on him-even in his drunken state. A part of her that wanted last night to mean as much to him as it had to her. Standing abruptly, Scully squashed all thoughts of making love to Mulder. She had made her decision, he had forgotten it, and so would she. It was for the best, even if for some strange reason her heart felt like it was breaking. "Come on Mulder," she said a little bit more harsh than necessary. "We have to finish some paper work at the Boston office before we can head back to DC this afternoon. The prosecutor is going to want a statement before we leave." That said, Dana watched as reality came crashing back down on her partner, washing away all other thoughts. 'It's for the best,' she repeated to herself. She only hoped that someday she would believe it. end That's it folks. Don't forget that I love email, so please hit the response button and tell me what you think. If you don't know what to say, here are something's I was wondering while writing this: Does Mulder getting drunk seem out of character? Does Scully give in too fast? Did Scully respond how you thought she should? And/or do you think Mulder will ever find out? If so, how? and is it worth a possible sequel? I have some ideas, but the time.....I'm sure you all know what I'm talking about. I'm at: tmbailey@micro-net.com Thanks for reading!