From: Amory20@aol.com Date: Fri, 19 Mar 1999 02:19:14 EST Subject: New: Forward Motion (1/2) by JLB TITLE: Forward Motion (1/2), sequel to "Belonging" AUTHOR: JLB (Amory20@aol.com) CLASSIFICATION: V, A, UST/?MSR RATING: PG SPOILERS: up through US season 6-- "Two Fathers/ "One Son" SUMMARY: Scully and Mulder finally have the talk. DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own them. Never will. CC and 1013 have that privlege. FEEDBACK: I love feedback. I love it, I say. So please, drop me a line. Amory20@aol.com AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is for all those people who wanted a sequel to "Belonging," so you'd actually get to see what they talk about. I feel that this is a bit of a cop out but I wanted to do something a bit restrained. Let me know if I let them off too easy. Maybe I'll give it another try. :) Forward Motion (1/2) by JLB For as long as I can remember, I've never allowed myself very many guilty pleasures. I try to convince myself that I don't have time for such things, that I'm above them, strong enough to deny myself. And most of the time, it works -- I do not indulge myself, not even with something as simple as a piece of cheesecake. It's moments like those when I feel that my father would be most proud of me. Sometimes, though, I feel myself starting to give in, casting reason and caution aside to simply follow my feelings wherever they might take me. When I feel my resolve weakening like this, I don't even bother to fight. I just go with it, allowing my baser inclinations to take full control, reveling in that sensation. Perhaps the fact that I only allow myself to give in to these feelings in the privacy of my bedroom, the lights turned down low, soft, classical music flowing from my CD player, enables me to submit to them so easily. Whatever the case, my guilty pleasure is almost always the same. I sit on my bed, a blanket thrown loosely around my shoulders, and trace the evolution of my feelings for Mulder, his for me. I try to pinpoint the very moment in which I knew that I loved him, that I realized he loved me in return. I don't do it often -- only after a particularly harrowing case, a tediously long day. I don't know if I allow myself to do it because thinking about it comforts me -- the idea of having something good and solid in my life -- or because I feel like I've earned the right to indulgence after so much stress, to give into thoughts of something that part of me believes I have no right even contemplating. But when I do think about it, I always come to the same conclusions. As silly as it might be, as uncharacteristic as it might be for me, I think that I started to fall for Mulder during our very first case. Looking into his eyes as he told me about his sister's disappearance, I felt myself being pulled in, knowing somewhere deep inside that it wasn't something I could control, panicking a little at that, but accepting somehow, until one morning I woke up and realized that I would do virtually anything he asked of me, that I couldn't walk away from Mulder without leaving a piece of myself behind. When I'd think about it, it would suddenly come to me in a flash -- I hated it. I hated that I no longer had complete control over myself. I hated Mulder for being the only person who had been able to take that power from me, for being able to make my life seem fuller than it had been ever before, for making me realize just how empty it had been without him. So I'd build my walls up again, higher, stronger, refusing to let anyone in or out. I couldn't let go. I still have trouble with that. Mulder sits across from me now, his legs hanging over the edge of his desk almost elegantly, and expects some kind of revelation. I agreed to talk. I agreed to pull the wall down, slowly, brick by brick, to hand them over to him so he could know the whole truth, not the partial truth I try to pretend rules me, us. I've known all along that because of our feelings for each other, we'd eventually reach this point. I just tried to imagine it was sometime far off in the future, after battles had been fought, justice attained, answers found. But it's here now -- and I have no idea what to say. He watches me intently, the look he gives suspects while he tries to create a profile. I've never been able to look into his eyes for long. It's like looking into the sun, sooner or later, you have to shield yourself because it's too bright, too much for you to handle. Mulder's eyes are like that. Bright and overpowering. I look down at my skirt, twirling a loose thread at the hem between my fingers. Suddenly I know he's smiling. I can feel it without even looking up. "One of us has got to say something, Scully," he laughs quickly, "I mean, I think that's what's supposed to go on when we agree to talk." I look up and catch him smiling shyly. "Mulder, I told you that I wasn't good at this. I didn't want to--" "Scully, relax," he says confidently, his voice deep and reassuring, "It's not life or death." Another shy smile crosses his lips. I can't smile back him. I want to but can't. I'm afraid that he doesn't understand. "It feels like it is. It feels like life or death to me, Mulder." I sigh without intending to. I am certain that my face has lost all color, that I look sick, weak. Mulder leans forward, his elbows resting on his thighs as he regards me thoughtfully. "Why? Why does it feel like that for you?" He's quiet, almost whispering, using a tone he reserves for me when I'm at my lowest points. I think of it sometimes as his "cancer tone." "Because...because this," I gesture quickly at the space between he and I, "because sometimes this feels like everything. Life, death, heaven, hell." I look up and meet his eyes for the first time in several minutes. Mulder nods his head slowly, and I watch as he then throws his head back, rolling it against his shoulders. He doesn't know what to say. I don't blame him but there doesn't seem to be a way to walk away from this now. His head shoots upright suddenly, and I feel like a deer caught in head lights. His eyes pin me to the spot, and his face takes on that determined edge I've seen there so many times before. I realize, almost on a whim, that he didn't shave this morning. Mulder's jaw is covered with a soft black shadow. I think for a moment that if I just reach out and touch him, run my fingers along the stubble, we can leave this alone. We can walk away and pretend that nothing has changed. It's not too late to go back. "Okay, Scully. Okay. We can go slowly, right?" he says finally, "We can just take small steps. All right?" He looks at me expectantly as he runs his hand against his thigh carefully, almost rhythmically. Right now, all of his actions take on an exaggerated significance. I can't find my voice so I nod my head mechanically, trying desperately to appear calm, in control. He know me too well I realize to believe, but I feel better keeping up the pretense. "How about this?" Mulder asks, getting off the desk and moving behind it to his chair, "Do you want to ask me about Diana?" "What do you mean?" I ask, embarrassed by the defensive tone my voice automatically takes on. "Do you wanna know what happened between us? What we were to each other?" He avoids my eyes as he says this. I think my heart beat overtime for a couple of seconds I contemplate this for a moment. Do I want to know what Diana meant to Mulder? Part of me screams "YES! Damn it! Find out everything you can." I don't know if it's morbid curiosity or jealously that fuels this need to know, but it's a fairly strong desire. It's clear to me, even with the little that I know about her, that Diana knew Mulder in a way I don't, that she knew a Mulder that I don't. This small, insecure, needy piece of Dana Scully wants to hear Mulder say "This is what she was to me, but you're more than that. You're so much more." I hear the words clearly in my head, and wonder for a moment if he actually said them aloud. I look at him, but he just stares back blankly. And then I realize. I realize that Diana *did* know someone else. Not the Mulder I know. If he loved her once, it's different from the way that he feels about me. We've shared seven years together. I'm not Diana's replacement. After I watched them holding hands through that window, I worried for some time that all along, that' s all I'd ever been. Someone to fill this gap that she had left in his life. But I couldn't be that. I'm nothing like Diana. Good or bad, she and I are nothing alike. "I only have one question, Mulder," I finally manage to say, "Why didn't you believe me when I told you she couldn't be trusted? Why did you...it hurt, Mulder. To know that I had to work constantly to earn your trust and she had it without question. Just because we've never..." I stop, confused at how those words left my mouth. It's not something I'd ever allow myself to say to him. continued in pt. 2 Forward Motion (2/2) by JLB "I only have one question, Mulder," I finally manage to say, "Why didn't you believe me when I told you she couldn't be trusted? Why did you...it hurt, Mulder. To know that I had to work constantly to earn your trust and she had it without question. Just because we've never..." I stop, confused at how those words left my mouth. It's not something I'd ever allow myself to say to him. He lets out a deep breath that I didn't even realize he had been holding, and chews thoughtfully on his lower lip. Have I rendered him speechless already? I close my eyes, and try not to feel time passing. "Scully, it's...it's just complicated," he says quietly, and I can see his hands shaking, "There was a time when I thought...I remember that Diana was at my side when everything first came together, when I only had her to trust and if I didn't, well then I would have been completely alone. I remember what that felt like and I didn't want to let go." Strangely, I find myself understanding. Somewhat. I am too hurt to empathize completely. "But you weren't alone, Mulder. I've been here. For a long time, I've been here." "I know Scully. God, don't doubt for a second what having you here has meant to me. It wasn't about her versus you. That never entered my mind. It's just that you make me work for everything. You want proof and explanations for all my hunches and theories. Diana always trusted me. It was enough that I believed. She found a way to believe based simply on that." I almost want to laugh. Diana Fowley was nowhere to be found in that hangar. Miraculously, she managed to escape unharmed, and hasn't been heard from since. I wonder how much she believed in the spirit of Mulder's quest. "So it was easier? Easier to trust her because she believed your theories? Mulder, I can't think of a single moment since we began working together, when I didn't believe *in* you, in the value of your work. But I'm a trained scientist. I need something more to go on. And wasn't it you who said that my science kept you--" "Yes, Scully. Yes damn it. But just as it hurt you to have me trust Diana so easily, it hurts me to have to prove everything to you. Just once, just once, I'd like my instincts to be enough for you. For you to have enough faith in me to believe." He closes his eyes as he finishes, and I know it's because he's afraid he might cry. "Should it be that easy?" I ask. I remember my father telling me as a child that nothing worth having came easily. It's something I've always carried with me over the years. You have to fight for the good things. Mulder slowly opens his eyes, and runs a hand through his hair. Never, in all the years that we've known each other, have I ever wanted to touch him more. Just touch him, hold him maybe, or stroke his back. A comforting gesture. For myself as much as for him. I don't though. I sit stiffly in my chair, feeling as if the earth could open up and swallow everything in the room, and I'd still be sitting with my legs crossed in this chair. "Maybe it shouldn't be that easy, Scully. But I wish it could be. I wish a lot of things for us." He says, matter of factly, as if it's something he's told me a dozen times before. I can't help but shake as I process his words. "Scully, why does it have to be so difficult for us? Why can't we be like everyone else? At least in this. Especially in this." He buries his face in his hands, and groans quietly, almost as if he's in pain. "I don't know Mulder. We just seem to go in circles, no forward motion. Sometimes I think that if I just..." my voice trails off -- I've caught myself as I balance on the precipice, dangerously so. Mulder's head springs up as my sentence lingers in the air. His eyes open wide and drums his fingers on his desk. "What Scully? Sometimes you think that if you just...what?" He's pulled me right back to the edge, urging me to jump. For some reason, I can't deny him. "Sometimes I think that if I just told you...if you heard the words, something might change. We might be able to break out of the cycle." I'm purposefully vague. I know that before Mulder's finished, it will all be out, but I refuse to give it up without a fight. "What words exactly?" He wants to smile, I can tell, the corners of his mouth rising slightly, but he doesn't want to scare me off. I can't just come out and say it. It's not who I am. I try to remember all the times I've ever uttered the words. It was always so casual. I was expected to love my parents so I could tell them that I did without hesitation. It wasn't weakness. But with Mulder -- with Mulder everything makes me feel weak, powerless. "I...for so long now, Mulder, you've been the only thing that really matters to me. I want you to know that." It's my turn to look away, closing my eyes and reminding myself to keep breathing. I hear him get up and move beside my chair. I let out a sharp breath as he takes my hand and brings it to his face. My entire body tenses as he places a single, soft kiss on the back of my hand. "Scully, look at me. Please." His voice is so soft and child like, I almost don't believe it's Mulder speaking. My eyes flutter open slowly, almost as if waking from a dream, and I look down at his beautiful face -- the way the dim light hits him, he looks almost ethereal. He smiles slightly, and stares at me as if I've just told him I believe in the existence of extraterrestrial biological entities without a doubt -- there is such wonder and amazement on his face. "Scully, that's...I mean, I feel...Damn," he stops and chuckles softly against my hand. His warm, moist breath tickles my skin. "Let me just say this, I really liked hearing that. It made my year. Hell, it made my decade." He laughs openly now, his nervousness fading quickly, and once again, Mulder is in control. For some reason, I don't mind as much. I smile at him, giving into the sounds of his laughter. "Scully, I'm at an advantage here since I already did my part in that drug induced haze." He looks at me for acknowledgment. "Well, maybe now you can tell me the full story of how I managed to save the world." I smile big, aware of the strange feeling in my stomach. "Yeah, of course that's all you want to hear about. Come here," he pulls me to him, wrapping me in his arms completely. I stop myself from thinking as he holds me, concentrating instead on simply feeling. "Scully," Mulder whispers against my ear, "I don't think I can ever let you go." I pull back slightly, and run my fingers down his cheek. "That's okay, Mulder." He smiles at me so sweetly I almost wonder if he's suffering from drug induced delusions again. But I realize it's just Mulder, happy for once. "So where do we go from here?" I ask quietly, almost afraid to break the spell. "I think we've still got some more to talk about." He runs a hand through my hair, and then pulls me against him again tightly. I can feel his chest rising and falling against my own. "We go forward, Scully. Always forward from now on." He says emphatically. For a moment, I consider what I've done. I've given in. After seven years, I've finally done it. There's no going back, I realize. I can't show up for work tomorrow and tell Mulder I made a mistake. There's no room for half truths, denials, secrets anymore. We've finally acknowledged the truth, looked at it, examined it, accepted it. The circle is broken -- I can see a new path up ahead. A million twists and turns along the way, but finally a step forward. And I don't feel the slightest urge to turn back. the end.