From: "Erin J. Vance" <ejvance@prodigy.net>
Date: Fri, 3 Aug 2001 18:21:34 -0400
Subject: Forged From Steel (1/1) by Erin Vance
Source: direct

Title: Forged From Steel
Author: Erin Vance
Feedback:  ejv813@hotmail.com
Classification: A, MSR, sorta X-file
Keywords: MSR
Rating: PG-13 for language and innuendo.
Summary:  Mulder and Scully wake up to a world they didn't expect,
with no idea how they got there.
Disclaimer: All rights for The X-Files belong to Chris Carter, 1013
and 20th Century Fox.  No harm intended and no profit to me.
Author's Note: The original idea for this particular little piece
actually came from Chris Carter, himself, although I doubt his version
would've turned out like mine...so I decided to have a little fun with
it.
Spoilers: None
Archive:  Ask first, please.
Feedback: ejv813@hotmail.com
Date posted: 8/3/2001


Forged From Steel

By Erin Vance

Thursday, March 23, 2000
6:17 am

"Hmm," Mulder mumbled as he tried to stretch and roll over.  His
relaxed expression changed to one of confusion, though, when he
couldn't lift his arm from the mattress.  Something was weighing it
down.

Grunting softly under his breath, Mulder experimentally opened one
eye.  As he squinted at the ceiling, his conscious mind struggled to
break through the strange euphoric cloud surrounding him.  However,
before he managed to fully rise from that state of limbo to inspect
his arm, a piercing shriek sounded in his left ear, startling him.  In
response, he squeezed his eyes shut once more, afraid of what he might
see.

"Mulder, what the hell is going on?"  Although the shrill voice had
adopted a vocabulary, the accusatory and bewildered tone was still
evident.  "Dammit!  Why the hell are you in my bed?"

At this, the weight was lifted from Mulder's arm and the mattress
shifted.  For a brief moment, there was silence and stillness.  Then,
a harsh, "oh shit" was muttered to his left.

While feigning sleep still sounded like a good idea to Mulder's
self-protective instincts, he knew that it was no longer an option.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear his vision.
As he turned to his left, he saw the source of that tightly-wound
voice.  Standing next to the bed and wrapped in a surprisingly skimpy
blanket stood Mulder's disgruntled partner.  The iciness of her glare
chilled him and he felt tiny icicles of dread start to form in his
stomach.  Without a word, he took in the scene, while a malignant knot
of fear spread throughout his chest.  What the hell is this, he
thought.  Returning his gaze to Scully, he wasn't sure he even wanted
to find out.

Scully's taut frame hadn't moved since Mulder had opened his eyes.  In
fact, after her outburst, her jaw had remained stubbornly locked, and
her hands and feet felt as though they were encased in lead.  She
imagined that the blanket that she'd haphazardly wrapped around
herself was cutting off the circulation to her outer extremities.  To
her medical mind, that would explain the sudden numbness in her
fingers and toes.

Mulder stared silently at Scully for several seconds, his normally
deadpan expression at war with a look of pure panic.  He couldn't even
begin to imagine why he and Scully had shared the same bed, or why she
was now dressed in nothing but a worn blanket.  As these thoughts sped
through his mind, Mulder dropped his eyes.  His shock intensified when
he saw that the wrinkled sheet covering him was, in fact, the only
thing that shielded him from his own full disclosure.

Mulder's mind flashed back to the previous night, but he was unable to
recall anything that would account for their present situation.
Glancing back up at Scully, Mulder's mind raced to fill the room with
something, anything.  Without thinking, he latched on to his old
standby...humor.

"Well, I guess it's true what they say.  The romance is the first
thing to go."

As soon as his words reached the air, Mulder knew that they had been a
mistake.  Scully's eyes widened and her jaw lowered in humiliated
surprise.  No matter how many times he'd used words to hurt her or
push her away, she still hadn't learned to expect it.  Her breath
caught on what may have been an angry growl, but sounded more like a
stifled sob.

"I'm sor-," Mulder began, but she cut him off with her body language.
In the next heartbeat, she regained control of her features, held
herself even straighter and pursed her lips.  Nothing outwardly
remained of the Scully who'd felt the brunt of Mulder's callous
remark.  Her eyes held an added degree of wariness, however.

Calmer now, she said, "My God, Mulder, what the hell happened here?
What did we do?"

After a pause, during which Mulder debated trying to repair the damage
his words had caused, he shook his head.  "Honestly, I don't know what
happened.  I have no memory of staying here last night, and I
certainly don't remember this."  As he spoke, he gestured toward the
bed.  "I have no idea what the hell is going on.  And the fact that
neither of us remembers scares the shit out of me."

Scully swallowed - hard - and slowly shook her head.  In the space of
one breath, her demeanor changed from indignant to defeated and
confused.  "I don't understand.  How could this happen with neither of
us remembering?"

"I think we should just start with what we do know," Mulder began.

Scully shook her head.  "No.  Let's start with getting dressed.  The
rest can wait."  Without waiting for his response, Scully turned and
walked into the adjoining bathroom, grabbing a pile of loose clothing
along the way.

The clicking of the door latch sounded like a gunshot in Mulder's
ears, and he flinched.  What the hell had happened to them?  He
wondered.  And how could they fix it?  Seconds later, Mulder heard the
sound of the shower being run, so he stood to retrieve his own
clothes.

While he waited for Scully to emerge, Mulder did his best to
straighten the bed.  He was nervous and he didn't want to make this
situation any more awkward than it was.

Scully came out of the bathroom just as Mulder was finishing up.  With
barely a sidelong glance at him, she continued into the living room.
With a wry tilt of his head, Mulder followed.  The tension seemed to
have hurried past them to take up residence in the living room.
Neither agent spoke as they each tried to piece together the events of
the previous night.

Without looking at Mulder, Scully moved into the kitchen, apparently
intent on occupying herself with the mundane.  She set a pot of coffee
brewing and then stood transfixed, staring into the dark liquid as
though searching for answers within.

"Come here a minute," Mulder called out.  Her glower still firmly in
place, Scully returned to where Mulder was.  "Were you wearing your
watch last night, Scully?"

With a puzzled frown, Scully said, "Yeah.  Why?"

"What time do you have now?"

Looking at her watch, she replied, "6:25.  Mulder, what's this about?"

Ignoring her question, Mulder said, "That's what I have, but your wall
clock says differently."  As he spoke, his expression grew a little
less dour and a familiar excited light entered his eyes.  "Scully,
every other clock in your apartment says it's 6:34.  What does that
tell you?"

Thoroughly bewildered now and more than a little aggravated by
Mulder's questions, Scully snapped, "I don't know, Mulder, maybe there
was a power surge last night."

"No, Scully," he began, growing more excited, "it means that in
addition to our mutual memory loss, we lost exactly nine minutes of
time!  Sound familiar?"  Mulder's eyes gleamed in obvious delight.

As Mulder spoke, Scully's eyebrows drew together in annoyance.
"Mulder, are you suggesting that whatever we experienced last night
should be attributed to some kind of alien encounter?"

With an amused leer, Mulder stepped closer to Scully and said, "Well,
I'd like to think my performance was out of this world.  How 'bout
you?"

"Dammit, Mulder," Scully shot out angrily, "how can be so flippant
about this?"

"I'm sorry, Scully.  You're right.  All I'm saying is that there's a
lot that doesn't add up about how and why we woke up the way we did
this morning."

Momentarily mollified, Scully sighed.  "Before we jump to any rash
conclusions, can we try and piece together what we do know?  We're not
going to get anywhere if we don't remember.  That should be the first
step."

"Okay, then.  You go first.  What do you remember?"

Taking a deep breath, Scully began.  "I remember coming home late last
night and eating while I looked over the case file you'd given me.
Then, you called and asked if you could stop by because you had some
last minute paperwork for me to sign.  You got here at about 10:00 I
think, and we went over everything together.  After we finished, you
got up to leave, I walked you to the door, and then...then...dammit!
Nothing!  That's all I can remember until this morning."

"Okay," Mulder said.  "That's a start at least."

"Well, what about you?"

"I remember coming over to take care of all that backlogged paperwork.
Then, I started talking about that new case I gave you.  Where is that
folder, anyway?"

"Mulder, who the hell cares right now?  I think we've got more
important things to figure out."

"All right.  Well, after we talked about the case, I commented that I
thought Skinner had been acting kind of odd lately.  I asked if you
agreed, and if I remember correctly, you said that I was looking into
things too deeply."

Scully's brows wrinkled as she tried to recall the specifics of their
conversation.  "Oh yeah, and I said something to the effect of 'not
everything is an x-file'."

Mulder grinned.  "Do you still think so, Scully?"

Uncomfortable under Mulder's scrutiny, Scully began to pace.  "At this
moment, Mulder, I'm not sure what to think about anything.  But I'm
determined to find out what happened here last night."

For a second, Mulder said nothing, as though not quite satisfied with
her answer.  But when she didn't elaborate, he nodded.  "Tell you
what.  Why don't I head home, change and meet you at work in about an
hour?  Then we can start to work this through."

At Scully's abrupt nod, Mulder walked past her to the door.  Just
before reaching it, he turned back.  Hesitating only briefly, he said,
"Scully, something definitely happened here last night...and no matter
what we learn, it won't change the way I feel about you.  I just
wanted you to know that."  Then, without waiting for her reaction, he
was gone.


Thursday, March 23, 2000
7:18 pm

All day long, Mulder and Scully had tried to cut and paste their
memories together in the hopes of identifying the larger picture.
However, nothing seemed to fit.  And now, all they had to show for
their efforts were a couple of implausible theories and two stress
headaches.

"Dammit, Mulder," Scully said, after listening to his abduction
hypothesis for the twelfth time.  "Why are you so hellbent on seeing
this as proof of alien abduction?"

"Scully, the only real piece of evidence we have is that nine minutes
of missing time.  And combined with our considerable memory loss, my
theory provides a clearer picture than anything you've been able to
postulate.  Memory loss and missing time are two of the most prevalent
abduction symptoms."

"Yes...and they can also be signs of poisoning, drug use, electrical
surges, post-traumatic stress disorder, high fever, and any one of
several types of neurological impairments."

Mulder bit down on his lower lip, his aggravation ready to spill out.
"Separately, yes, but together...I don't think so.  Besides, which of
those do you think we simultaneously suffered from last night?
Nothing else makes sense."

"Sense, Mulder?  How can you talk about making sense?  Taking a leap
of logic like that does not communicate sensible behavior to me.  I
think you're trying too hard to make it paranormal."

Sighing, Mulder continued.  "Look, I know that as a scientist and a
doctor, you want this to be something physical and easily explainable.
But the facts don't add up to that this time.  At least admit to the
possibility of such an anomaly."

Scully's arms remained crossed in a defensive gesture.  But, with a
shake of her head, she said, "I don't know, Mulder.  I just know I
don't want it to be what you're saying."

Surprised, Mulder said, "But why not?  This could be the best proof
we've ever been able to get."

"Because if it is what you say, then we may never learn the truth.
And that is unacceptable to me.  I have to know what happened between
us last night."  Before Mulder could process what she'd said, or what
it could mean, she continued.  "And what proof do we actually have,
Mulder?  Not even our memories.  And another thing...how can you be so
excited about this?  Is the possibility of being right worth never
knowing for sure what might've happened?"

Without waiting for an answer, Scully turned away.  "Never mind.  It's
late and I'm tired.  We can look into this more tomorrow."

"Wait, Scully," he called out.  "Now that you mention it, I've been
wondering why you're so upset by this.  I know it's disconcerting to
not remember, but it doesn't seem all that different than some of my
morning-after-a-big-party stories from college.  And it's not like
we've never woken up in the same room before.  So what's the big deal
now?"

"Mulder, we weren't just in the same room.  We were in the same bed
without anything on and no memory of how we got there.  Now, I don't
know about your wild Oxford nights, but the times I've woken up to
that, I at least remembered what happened!"

Mulder nodded.  "Okay, I'll grant you that.  But we've been friends
for a long time, Scully.  Why does this make you so uncomfortable?  I
mean, I didn't even see anything, so you have nothing to be
embarrassed about."

"Mulder, nothing about this situation makes me comfortable and it
certainly doesn't make me jump at the chance to attribute it to
aliens.  Which is why I am going home now.  Good night."

Frantic now, Mulder called out to her before she could leave.
"Scully, wait.  The reason I'm excited over the possibility is because
it could be the closest I come to experiencing what my sister...and
you...experienced.  It could be the one chance I have to learn that
truth that's been hidden from me all these years."

"I guess I understand that, Mulder.  I just can't share your
enthusiasm.  Not this time."

"The thing I don't understand, Scully, is why you're acting like I did
something to you."  As Mulder said this, his eyes lit with
comprehension.  "That's it, isn't it?  You're loath just to be near me
because you believe that I did this, somehow.  You think I took
something from you that you wouldn't have given under normal
circumstances."

With a fury in her glance, Scully turned on him.  "How dare you say
that, Mulder!  I don't blame you.  Not even a little bit.  I may be
frustrated by your zeal, especially when I feel so...so wrong about
it, but I don't think this is your fault or your doing.  I know you're
not responsible."

"Well, if you don't blame me, then why have you shied away from me all
day?  It goes beyond just dismissing my theories.  It felt personal.
But can't you see that all that matters is that this might lead us
closer to the truth?"

Scully looked up at him, anger and frustration evident in her voice.
"You know, Mulder, in your single-mindedness, I'm not surprised to
hear you say that.  But it's not the same for me and I'm tired of you
putting words in my mouth."

"Then what is it?"  The lost look on Mulder's face spoke volumes about
his lack of insight on this one.

"I'm upset because I hate this.  I've lost time before, Mulder, and
it's not something I'd wish on anyone.  And it didn't lead me to any
truths then, so why should I believe it would now?  But more than
that, I hate what this could mean...what might've happened...what we
were obviously meant to believe had happened."

Mulder's face fell as she said this.  "Oh, I see.  You hate the idea
of anything like that happening.  I should've known -."

Her frustration boiling over, Scully said, "No, Mulder, you don't see.
I hate this because I wanted to remember!   If something like that
happened between us, I needed to remember.  I needed it to be us, and
not just some means to an end.  I didn't want it to turn into an
x-file and now, we may never know.  That's what I hate.  I needed to
be able to remember!"

Suddenly, as though struck with all that she had revealed, Scully
stepped back, her eyes scanning everywhere but where Mulder stood.
Through clenched teeth, she said, "I gotta go" and turned to rush out
of the office.

A mere thirty seconds later, Scully stepped out of the Hoover
building, directly into the pouring rain.  Having secluded herself all
day in the basement with Mulder, she hadn't noticed the storm.

Letting go of the breath she'd been holding, Scully turned her face
up.  She was already drenched and she needed the cleansing waters to
wash away her self-loathing.  What a hell of a day it had been, she
thought.  Every one of her defenses had been stripped and her soul lay
bare.  As such, she felt raw...exposed...and she hoped the rain and
the ride home would soothe her worn spirit.

The rain was starting to chill her, so she began to stride toward the
taxi stand around the corner.  As she was about to round the edge of
the building, she paused to allow a young woman to pass in front of
her.

Just then, something heavy collided with Scully from behind.  She was
momentarily thrown off balance, but was righted by two firm hands on
her shoulders.  "I'm sorry, Scully," she heard, "but now you know how
I felt just a minute ago."

Having gone completely still at the sound of his voice, Scully was
slowly turned to face him by the gentle pressure of his hands.  The
only will she seemed to have left was her determination not to look at
his face.  But that, too, fled as he lifted one hand from her shoulder
and used it to tilt her head upward.

Short of closing her eyes in adolescent rebellion, Scully had no
choice but to look.  What she saw surprised her.  Before her stood a
man whose face was as recognizable to her as her own.  But in his
eyes, for the first time, Scully saw something remarkable and
undisguised.  Somehow, in the last two minutes, Mulder's eyes had
learned to smile.  Although the cold rain ran in rivulets down his
face, Mulder had never radiated such joy before.

The unexpected warmth in his eyes burnt Scully's own, and she blinked
to ease the stinging.  Finally, after several seconds of
motionlessness, Mulder bent closer to her and whispered, "I want to
remember too, Scully.  And this time, we will.  I promise."

Closing the gap between them, he helped her redefine the friendship
that they'd carefully cultivated and guarded for more than seven
years.  As their mouths moved slowly together, the cast iron walls
surrounding their old lives began to crumble.  Standing there, alone
on a street full of people, Mulder and Scully took their first
independent steps toward forging an even stronger relationship out of
steel.


The End :)

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