From: Elizabeth Smeaton Date: Wed, 11 Oct 2000 03:16:27 -0700 (PDT) Subject: Post: Frustration: Remembering Source: xff Title: Frustration: Remembering Author: Liz Smeaton Feedback: You know you want to!!! Liz_Smeaton@yahoo.com Rating: PG13 Classification: MSR, Angst Summary: Scully's thoughts and feelings from the morning after... Disclaimer: How many more times? They do not belong to me, but to Chris Carter and all the other people that I cannot be bothered to write because I want to get on with this piece of fanfic!!!!!! Dedication: Notes: ******* It's been a week since we returned from Oregon. A week of pretending, of acting as though nothing happened in that motel room. A week of denial and secrecy. And it's driving me mad. I honestly thought I'd be fine with it - that I'd be able to forget the touch of his hands, his mouth... who was I kidding? I've got about as much chance of forgetting my name, though now I think about it, I did come pretty close to that when he... See what I mean? I can't go on like this. It's not that I feel guilty. In fact, that must be the one emotion I haven't experienced yet. It's awful, I admit it, but I just don't feel the slightest tiniest snippet of guilt whatsoever. Trust me, I've searched every last corner of my mind and conscience, but it just isn't there. Well, maybe that's not strictly true - I feel guilty for not feeling guilty. And that's one thing I can't stand. I'm not proud of myself. Even less now that we're back home. I saw Sean the day we got back. To say I was worse than Cancer Man on a bad day would have to be an understatement. The poor guy didn't know what he'd done wrong - his bewilderment only made me more angry. To cut a long story short, I started an argument then stormed home, feeling as though I'd just kicked a wounded animal. We sorted it out - I blamed it on jet lag - but I don' t know how much longer I can carry on like this. The first day in the office was torture. Pure uncensored ripping-your-tongue-out-while-you're-still-conscious-and-then-showing-it-to-you torture. I was already at my desk when he strolled in. I don't know what I was expecting - at least some acknowledgement of what we'd shared that night. I couldn't have been more wrong. He just grinned at me. The bastard had the nerve to grin. I could've thrown something at him - I would've, but I happen to know just how many tax dollars went on my new computer, and I didn't think Skinner would take too kindly to being told how it happened to become embedded in the filing cabinet behind Mulder's desk. I'm a lousy aim at the best of times - being angry doesn't help matters either. And the bastard somehow managed to look even more gorgeous than usual. I could seriously kill him sometimes. There are plenty of other things I could quite happily do to him as well, but I won't go into that now... Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, the grin. It just about undid me. I somehow managed to keep relatively composed - it's times like that I truly earn the title of Ice Queen. "Morning." I finally choked out, trying to ignore the chorus of 'take me now' that was running through my head and threatening to burst out of my mouth at any moment. Surely he had to have some idea of what I was thinking - he couldn't be that dense could he? Obviously I was wrong. "Morning." he threw breezily over his shoulder as he headed for his desk. "Ready to face Skinner?" So much for appearing calm and in control. I couldn't have looked more confused if I'd tried. Skinner just didn't fit in any way shape or form into what I was thinking at that moment and I had no idea what on earth Mulder was talking about. One track mind? Trust me, that would be an understatement! "He wanted to see us this morning. Wonder what I've done this time?" Gee, he means apart from nearly doing the wild thing with your partner on bureau time and money? Not that Skinner would know that. At least I hope he doesn't know about that. Please God, don't let him know about that! I didn't reply. Luckily unlike my partner, I've been blessed with the gift of actually being able to think before opening my mouth. Sometimes at least. I didn't think that what I wanted to say to him at that moment would help matters at all. Except for relieving a severe case of sexual frustration that is. I've never understood people who are afraid of elevators. It has always seemed to be a totally unfounded fear, the sort of phobia experienced by neurotic nervy people, not tough professional agents who work for the federal government. I still don't understand that fear, but I have to admit that as I stepped into that elevator with Mulder I experienced the most acute sense of foreboding. He must have seen the brief flash of panic cross my face, even though I turned away to hide it from him. Damn him for seeing that. I didn't want him to know how much he affected me, how much I wanted him, when he seemed to have had no problem forgetting what we'd shared together. But I couldn't help it. Damn him! Due to some unexplainable alteration in the space/time continuum, the usually short trip took years. Think I'm exaggerating? Trust me, it was years. Hours at least. Maybe we should open an X-file on it. Why is it that always happens when you least want it to? You think that they'd at least make elevators bigger wouldn't you? They obviously don't take into consideration the fact that the people using them may want to stay as far away from each other as possible. Some people are so inconsiderate! I wouldn't look at him. I couldn't. I could feel his eyes upon me, but I fought down the urge to look up at him. I knew if I did I would be lost. Completely, with no chance of ever being found again. Either that or I'd die from an overload of desire which would spontaneously occur when our eyes met. Tempting to try, but not really an option, so I resisted. Suddenly the elevator came to a halt. I know, this is starting to sound like a cheesy B movie, but I swear on my life this is how it happened. Cross my heart and hope to die. The damn thing just stopped moving. I looked at Mulder expectantly. "Isn't this usually the part where the doors open?" I asked lightly, trying not to let my discomfort show. His next words did little to allay my fears though. "I don't think we're gonna be going anywhere for a while Scully." he replied, showing a hell of a lot more calm than I was feeling at that moment. His next actions betrayed him though. "Damn it!" he exclaimed, pressing all the buttons, then thumping the door in frustration. Frustration. That seems to be a key word with us now. Finally he gives up. "Great." He groans. The temperature had increased noticeably by this point, and I could feel the perspiration running down my back. With a start I realised Mulder had reached for his jacket. my pleas to the Almighty had no apparent affect though, as the jacket was removed and a well muscled rippling torso covered in a crisp white shirt was revealed to my eyes. I couldn't look away. Call me weak. Call me whatever you want. But I'm telling you now, no warm blooded woman could have kept her eyes from that sight. At least no a sane one anyway. He could see me looking. He had that smug half smile on his face that drives me mad in so many ways and he was watching me. By this point my face was the colour of my hair and I was embarrassingly wet just from the thought of him touching me. I finally managed to tear my eyes away, but by that point it must have been too late. He must have been able to read the desire, the longing that was burning through me. I felt rather than saw him move closer to me, slowly striding across the small space until we were almost touching. "Getting hot in here Scully." He commented, his voice a low, husky growl. I continued to study the floor as though it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. Until I felt his hand on my face and found myself staring straight into those eyes that is. His fingers lightly caressed my jaw, and I couldn't help the shiver that went through me. Involuntarily I leaned closer, anything to prolong the contact. I was going to explode. No doubt about it. Mulder had been right all along, spontaneous human combustion did exist it and was about to occur in front of his very eyes. If only he'd just... Ting! The elevator chose that moment to spring back to life again and the doors slid open. Trying hard to remember how to breath, I followed Mulder out into the corridor. a voice in my head screamed. Whether I was more angry with him or myself for letting him get to me that way I don't know, but it was all I could do to keep from thumping him. This has to stop right? I mean, we can't go on like this... However, by the end of the our joyous meeting with Skinner I had almost managed to convince myself that things were fine. It was simply a case of hormonal overdrive and all I needed to do was call Sean to arrange a quiet night in for two with a bottle of wine and everything would work itself out. I even managed to say good night to Mulder pleasantly enough and without too many thoughts about what had nearly happened in that elevator. It could be controlled. I have will power. I am strong. Or so I thought. Then the phone rang... The End ************************************** Well, that's it for another part!!! A third instalment will be on the way soon if enough people tell me they want one that is!!!! Any suggestions etc would be accepted gratefully no flames though, I'm only fragile!!!