From: H Lynn28 Date: 29 Aug 1999 05:23:37 GMT Subject: NEW: Friday Night (1/1) by H Lynn Title: Friday Night (1/1) Author: H Lynn (hlynn28@aol.com) Rating: PG Category: VR Keywords: Mulder/Scully RST Spoilers: Season 6 Archive: Yes, please. Summary: Continues the events of "The Light From my Kitchen Window". Mulder first person POV. It's Friday night, and the 'date' has been set...'nuff said. Author Notes: After much hemming and hawing, it's here. ;) It isn't necessary to read the first one, since much of it gets recapped through Mulder's eyes, but it would do my heart good if you would. :) Since the first one was from Scully's POV, I thought it only fair that Mulder should get some attention, too. Thanks to everyone who urged me to write this, since it hadn't even occurred to me that people might want to read a sequel. As always, enjoy. :) Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, but 1013 and Fox do. The ones they own are in this story, and I didn't ask if I could use them. (But at least they had some fun in the process...) ******************* This past week has been, bar none, the most surreal week I've ever experienced. The way it started was routine enough; I come in to work first, with Scully only a couple minutes behind me. We work on paranormal cases, I make some asinine quips, she rebuffs them and we go home to separate, darkened apartments. But that, of course, was before Tuesday night happened. I remember waking up from the dream, still thinking it happened...that I'd driven into the garage of my idyllic little home, waiting for the family I didn't have to welcome me with open arms. The sudden joy at seeing Scully in the kitchen, radiant in the late afternoon sun, waiting for me, my wife, my life, my love...it was complete, and true, and *right*. But the reality of it crashed down around me--Scully and I weren't married. The girl clinging to me wasn't our daughter. And as I woke up and realized it was only a dream, I felt like a piece of me had been taken away, forever. But that, of course, was before the second dream happened-- which lead to me standing next to Scully on a Friday night, waiting for a table to be cleared at a favorite restaurant of mine. Usually, I call ahead and have something to go waiting for me to pick up. One night it's lasagna; another night, it's steak and potatoes. The owner of the place is shocked that, not only am I eating in, I've actually got someone with me. We get a booth in the back corner, one that looks like it was made for couples seeking privacy in a crowded restaurant. I smile my thanks as we sit down, and soon it's just the two of us, facing each other. Alone. Now that my focus is fully on her, I can see her own nervousness. Glad to see I'm not the only one, even though this moment is more perfect than I ever hoped it could be. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her hair not yet long enough to wear any other way. The casual elegance of her black dress makes me feel shabby, considering the best clothes I own are the suits I wear to work. So here I am, wearing the same thing from this morning, hoping she doesn't care. And from the look in her eyes, I'd guess that she doesn't. I'm not sure what to think about these dreams we apparently shared--considering our past history, I really shouldn't be surprised. I want to explore this further, find out how it happened, why it happened-- My thoughts are drawn to the present as Scully lays a hand on mine. "Don't think about it for tonight. I want to enjoy this without the metaphysical analysis." She knows me too well. I can feel the grin growing on my face as I take her hand, old fears passing away with the seconds. A part of me wonders how she can take our shared dreams so calmly. As if listening to my thoughts, she says, "I can't explain what happened to us. I tried to rationalize it away, to make sense of it, but..." she trails off, looking down at our entwined hands. "But all I know for certain is that it was meant to happen. Our feelings have been so repressed, for so long, I wonder if this was the only way we could share our feelings." "Through a dream?" I can't help smiling a little. She looks up at me with a familiar gleam in her eye. "I never said the supernatural didn't exist. You might call it fate, or destiny...but I tend to call it something else." I don't need to ask what that something else is. Years of observation have told me that there's only one supernatural phenomena she accepts outright, and it has nothing to do with fate. But she asked me not to analyze this tonight, so I won't. Instead, I enjoy having her across from me, as she tries to keep herself from laughing at my jokes--and failing miserably, I might add. Minutes slip into hours, dinner comes and goes, then dessert, and we shortly find ourselves ushered out of the place, so they can finally clean up for the night. My watch says it's 1:30am, but that can't be right. I look over to Scully, and unfortunately, she confirms it. "Are you tired?" I ask her, still wide awake and running on some previously unknown reserve of energy. "No. You?" "Not in the slightest." "Good." The silence afterwards is deafening. We continue to walk to our respective cars, feeling the night drawing to a close even though we don't want it to end. I say the words before I fully think them through, wincing as soon as I finish the sentence: "Would you like to come over to my place?" She looks at me, partly amused, partly shocked. I think her answer surprises even herself. "Yes, I'd love to." We split up reluctantly as we reach our individual destinations, necessity being our prime motivator. What we plan to do once we're at the apartment hasn't crossed my mind get, although I've already had quite a few suggestions from somewhere other than my brain. I shake my head, not letting myself indulge in those thoughts. Not going to go there--I *can't* go there. Not tonight, anyway. As I pull the car out of the parking lot, my mind wanders back, thinking about how we'd gotten into this situation in the first place. It had started off like a typical dream; it had its own strange internal logic that defied explanation. Leftover emotion from the previous dream clouded it, leaving me vulnerable and unsteady where I'm normally solid and confident. Everything had been going well, if not smoothly, when we'd headed out to a case. We actually do that a lot in my dreams, but this time I was nervous as hell. Little wonder considering the trouble I was having, keeping my partner from finding out how close to the edge I was. Looking back, I'd say the thing that undid my resolve, that destroyed my self-control, was the lack of the expected shake of the head, and the oft-repeated words, "I'm fine", when I'd asked her if she was cold. Instead, I saw something in her eyes that stripped away my illusion of control. Then, she had asked, "Anything wrong, Mulder?" Anything wrong? Yes and no. Yes, because there's something very wrong and perverse about a man who could have fallen in love with his partner and never tell her about it. No, because I'm standing in a weed-thick patch of field next to an expressway, freezing in the early damp chill of winter, a dead body not ten feet from my feet...and all I see is Scully. Her misconstruing my attempt at confession for speculation about the killer was almost enough in itself to send me over the Edge of No Return. When she started to ask me more about it, I tried to dodge...but I saw the recognition starting in her eyes. The edge had been crossed, and there was only thing left to do. Not fully realizing my own actions, I took her away from the scene, into the forest...to hide my possible humiliation, most likely. I wasn't exactly looking forward to the idea of Skinner calling me into his office with a reprimand already there and waiting for me. Plus, I knew Scully would kill me for asking it out loud, in front of our peers. So, in the relative seclusion of a thicket of trees a good distance away from people, cars and the typical trappings of civilization, I asked Scully if she was free on Friday night. Or, to put it plainly, I asked her out on a date. Her reaction wasn't what I had hoped for, but she soon recovered, and then the most amazing thing happened. She said yes, that Friday night would be perfect....and I felt this boundless joy rising up within me; the moment couldn't seem more perfect. But as dreams tend to do, this one faded rather abruptly--one second Scully is the focus of my full attention, then I started to wonder why this seemed so familiar...and it popped away like a soap bubble, a rainbow-glazed illusion of solid air. But it certainly didn't feel like an illusion, I told myself. And as I got dressed that morning, I took a little more care and time than I normally would. Maybe Scully will notice, I remember thinking, even as I'm sure she won't. My thoughts are interrupted as I realize that I'm almost to my apartment, Scully still following closely behind. A turn down a side road, a couple more blocks, and we're there. I find a good parking space, amazing enough at this late hour, and beat Scully to the apartment, hoping to clean the place a little before she comes up. I'm just changing into a clean shirt and jeans when she knocks softly on the door. I sigh a little, thinking that after six years of working together, she should know she doesn't need to knock first. But I guess that's just the way she was raised--always knock before entering. "Come in," I call out, just loud enough to be heard through the door. No need to make my new next door neighbor hate me quite yet--there'll be plenty of time and opportunity for that later. I hear her open and close the door, and I come out of the bedroom with more than a little hesitance. She's standing in the middle of the room like she's never been in my apartment before, as if she doesn't already know the floor plan by heart. I'm not much better, to be honest. I thought I'd left behind that teenage behavior back in my dream, but I guess this is still too new, too different for us. We'd been slowly sliding towards this destination for years, but it doesn't mean we shouldn't be shell- shocked at the fact that we're here. "Hi," She smiles meekly at me, looking almost guilty at her presumption of walking into my living room. "Hey," I answer back, not much more articulate than her, at this moment. I dimly remember the rules of being a good host from my youth, and I gesture to the sofa, hoping she takes the hint. She does, and I pause before following her, wondering at certain actions that wouldn't have bothered me before tonight. I decide to sit on the end, letting us have the chance to get used to this new thing between us, the tension obvious rather than just under the surface. We say nothing as we sit there, and my mind lights on a great excuse to break the tension. "Would you like anything to drink? I think I've got some soda, or there's water..." "No thanks. I'm fine, really." My back settles deeply, regretfully into the leather-covered cushions, the chance to be free suddenly denied. What was I thinking, by inviting her over? Did I want to just talk? Was I expecting her to stay the night? Did I subconsciously want her to...? "Mulder?" "Hmm?" "Can I ask you something personal?" "Ah, sure, I guess. Well, as long as it isn't about my years at Oxford, or that one summer I spent as a lifeguard on the Cape." Her eyebrows raise as I knew they would, her eyes glinting mischievously in the weak light coming from one of the table lamps. She's filing that away for future reference. "Well, it's a more recent topic than that..." She trails off, and I know at once what she's about to ask. "Diana Fowley." "Yes," she replies, her relief hissing out as she speaks. "I think that if we're going to be...that is, if we continue on this path--" "You want to know what went on between us, exactly." "Yes. Yes, I do. There's something going on that you've never told me about, and I think it's time you were straight with me. Before, it wasn't really my place to pry, but if we want this to work between us, we need total honesty. You have to tell me the truth." The truth? Where do I begin? I laugh to myself. "Scully, do you really want to know? This goes a lot deeper than you think." She blanches visibly, but her resolve stays strong. "I need to know, Mulder. Tell me." I sigh deeply, uncovering long-buried and painful memories. I wouldn't do this for anyone but her, and I think she knows it. I hope she does. "Diana isn't where the story really starts, Scully. To know where she comes in, I have to explain something about myself, something no one knows...not Skinner, not the Lone Gunmen, not even my parents. "Before joining the FBI, I worked as a counselor for a clinic in the downtown Boston area, helping inner city kids and counseling unwed mothers, most of them teenage girls that were frightened out of their minds. And...I was married." A sharp intake of breath and widened eyes are the only signs of emotion I get from her. "But," I finish, "it wasn't to Diana." She lets out the breath slowly, sighing in a combination of relief, anger and frustration. "You were married? And you never told me this before now?" "It isn't exactly something I want to remember," I say as I look at the floor, knowing it's the only way I'll be able to get through the next few minutes. "Kathy and I met in the States; Boston, in fact. She was a real estate agent and I was just getting settled into post- college life. We dated on and off for two years, then one day we just decided that we ought to get married. So we did. "Her folks knew, but I never got up enough nerve to tell my parents about it--she wasn't exactly the type of gal that they'd approve of. We were happy, and enjoying life to its fullest...until about a year and a half later--" I can feel my throat tightening as it all comes back to me, time having only dulled the edge of it. "She...she was coming home from work--I was still at the clinic, working with a patient, so I found this out later. Well, she'd been to the grocery store, and was carrying a couple bags in from the car, she couldn't see--" I can't do this. My mouth works silently as the words clog up in my throat, and for the first time I notice the wetness on my cheeks. When did I start crying? Scully reaches over and takes my hand, her touch releasing some of the pain building inside of me. I look at her, and seeing the compassion on her face, I melt the rest of the way, managing to choke out the rest. "She couldn't see the car coming at her--they said she probably died instantly, from the trauma. Nothing more than a statistic for the police, really. A black sedan involved in a hit and run, killing a woman who didn't even see it coming...a shame, but it happens. I couldn't just accept it as fate, or whatever, though. I wanted justice." "So you joined the FBI." "Yeah. I let people think it was because of Samantha, but to be honest, she was only a part of it. I thought I could find Kathy's killer with the Bureau's resources on hand." "And did you?" I wipe the tears away shakily, "Yeah, actually I did. Was a drunk driver that had priors, but it was his first homicide. He got ten years in jail, the maximum. But it didn't bring Kathy back, or ease the pain, either. So, I started to immerse myself in the other thing that brought me into the FBI, studying paranormal phenomena, and so on. I kept wearing my ring, even though I'd told them I was single. That's about when the Lone Gunmen came in, and shortly after that, Diana. "In hindsight, she was nothing more than a rebound person...but it seemed much more than that, at the time. She listened to my theories when no one else would. I started to rely on her for strength, when I really shouldn't have. Eventually, we started to drift apart--she got an assignment to work in the Middle East, and we split up. The first time I'd seen her in almost a decade was the day she showed up at that first joint panel involving Gibson Praise." "Did you...did you still love her?" "No. I still respected and trusted her, but love?" I shake my head. "I couldn't be in love with her, because I was in love with someone else." It takes only a second for that to register with Scully. She smiles for the first time since I began this confession, relieved at my words. Was she really that insecure about it, for all this time? Why didn't I see this before? "From the day you walked into my office, Scully, my world's been turned upside down. You're the only one I trust, the only one I should've ever trusted. I let a past relationship blind me to that fact, and I let you down. I should've realized what she was, but I didn't--" "It's okay," she interrupts me, "I know. You wanted to believe she was trustworthy, and you didn't let anyone tell you otherwise. You had to find it out for yourself." My lips tighten in a line, as I remember. Yes, I certainly did. But more painful than the revelation was the fact that I had no proof to back it up, no way to punish her for her deception. I feel, rather than see, Scully moving closer to me, the distance between us on the sofa shortening gradually as she slides over to my side, offering her shoulder as support. And as I sink into her, I wonder if I've ever told her how I feel about her. Not just love in general, but all of the little things that gather together to be love. The way she smiles when she's happy, how she defends me even when she disagrees with me, the way her eyes brighten when she's excited... My arms circle around her waist, and I draw her closer. "You've made me feel like the luckiest person on the face of the earth, Scully, because you stayed with me--even in the midst of my crazy, spooky theories." Or the personal tragedies in your life, I add silently. This moment is so unreal, I half-expect to wake up at any moment and find that this is yet another dream. I look up to see her face, and I'm not prepared to see her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I stayed because you stayed. I would have left if you left. The only reason I even attempted to leave was because I thought I'd been holding you back, keeping you from finding the truth. But now I know." She looks at me in a way that I've seen in glimpses, before, but now see in its entirety. Love in its purest form, distilled into a radiance that pulls me in, guided by nothing more than instinct. Our lips meet, finding each other easily, as if we've done this thousands of times before, in other lifetimes, other eons. I feel her hands wrap around my neck as I pull her closer, her leg brushes across my lap as she tries to shift in nearer to me, and all of a sudden I find myself falling backwards, taking her with me. The quick change of position doesn't phase us for long, and soon the kiss changes to groping and necking like we're teenagers. It takes a while for this fact to break through the passion haze in my brain, but as soon as it does, I pull back slowly and as lovingly as I can, not wanting to hurt her but knowing at the same time that this isn't right for us. This may have started out with us acting like teenagers, but I'll be damned if it's going to end that way, too. She pulls away when she notices the change, looking at me in a mixture of deep passion and confusion. "Mulder, what's wrong?" "This...this isn't right. You deserve more than making out on a couch, Scully..." She smiles tolerantly, "I don't care, Mulder. I'm here, you're here--and I want this. I want this to happen." "Tonight?" It comes out sounding incredulous, but somehow she doesn't notice. Or at least, doesn't appear to notice. "If you're willing, yes." If that's not enough to make me think I've died and gone to heaven, well, I don't know what would, honestly. "I'm willing, Scully. More than that, though, I want the first time to be special...more than two bodies colliding on a couch, just for the sake of satisfaction. I want us, together, making love with adult intentions and knowing that there won't be regrets in the morning. I love you too much to accept anything less." "Mulder..." I can hear the wonder and disbelief in her voice. "I've had couch-style relationships before, and that's not how I want us to be, Scully, not the first time. I want it to be deeper in meaning, in everything...I want it to be perfect." "It will be, Mulder. It will...because it'll be you and me. Nothing else matters." The look on her face turns melancholy with guilt, "And to be perfectly honest, I'm way too tired for any sort of vigorous physical activity right now." The chuckle starts deep within me, a cleansing laugh that breaks the tension of the moment. According to my watch, it's well past two o'clock. "Yeah, we're not as young as we used to be. You want to sleep over instead of driving?" "Yeah, could I?" I must have looked at her like I thought she was nuts, because she laughs instantly. "Sorry, should've known better." She sidles up next to me, squeezing herself in the space between me and the couch. I leave her there for a minute or two, before the romantic notion fades with the recollection that I've got a perfectly good bed that's going to waste in the next room. "Comfortable?" She mumbles something that sounds like "yes". "You want to take the bed, Scully? It's a lot softer than me." "Will you be there?" "If you want." She lifts her head up to look me square in the eye. "I want." We gradually get up from the couch, and tiredly head for my bedroom, more concerned about sleeping than any sort of propriety. She rummages for a decent shirt to sleep in while I change, and the commonality of the situation strikes me enough that I'm compelled to ask a question that seems evitable at this point. "Hey, Scully?" I ask as she scoots under the covers, wearing my old FBI academy T-shirt. Where on earth did she find that? I'll have to remember to ask her later. "Yeah?" "You know," I climb underneath the covers as well, "we could have it like this every night." "I know," she says simply, smiling easily. Is she thinking about the first dream we had? I know I certainly am. "Is that a yes or no?" She gives me a sleepy yet impish look. "You didn't ask me a question." Christ. Do I have to actually say it? Or is she just messing with my mind in the wee hours of the morning? Or maybe she just didn't want me to ask. Maybe it's enough that we're here, together. I turn over to face the window, and after a few seconds I feel her hand on my shoulder, using my weight to pull herself closer, and using her weight to turn me back. "Mulder?" "Hmm, yeah?" "The answer is yes." No more words are needed. Joy fills me as I see everything in her eyes, her smile. Her lips find mine and we kiss deeply, longingly, full of promise of future moments like these. If I had more attention to spend on it, I'd comment on the irony of us being in the same bed, a place of dreaming, where we head towards fulfilling the dream that propelled us here to this night, this moment. But as I later fall asleep with her in my arms, I know we won't be dreaming the same dream tonight. Because now, we're living it. End.