From bower2@juno.com Tue Nov 19 23:52:09 1996 Games Part 1/? by L.B. Bower or MSR PG-13 Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully don't belong to me. I'm kindly borrowing them from Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting and I'm doing this knowing full well that I'm not supposed to. :) Don't bother suing me--I have no money. This story takes its inspiration from TFWID but it doesn't contain a lot of spoilers or a lot of angst. It takes place months after the events depicted in TFWID. This is not a plot-driven story, but what I like to think of as a character study. All feedback is welcome (pleasepleasepleaseplease:)). If I get enough positive feedback, I may turn this sucker into a novelette! Be warned: future parts will drift from PG-13 into NC-17 territory. Games Part 1/? Dana Scully wiped the corners of her mouth as the ring interrupted her solitary supper. She stabbed the chopsticks into the container of cashew chicken and reached for the phone, hitting the talk button and tucking the instrument between ear and shoulder. "Scully." "Wanna play a game, little girl?" Scully smiled into the phone at the sound of Mulder's leering voice. She should have known it would be him. After all, it was Friday night, they were between major cases, and neither of them could claim an active social life. A game was inevitable--as it had been for the last year. And what had begun as an occasional session had become a weekly occurrence; and the last couple months or so, something that'd been happening one or two other evenings during the week as well. There had even been games in the basement office at the FBI building. And several times at Mulder's apartment. It had become a tradition. "Backgammon?" she asked--even though she knew the answer. "Of course, " came the quick reply. "Need anything?" "BYOB, Mulder. All I've got is some tea and bottled water." "Scully, you really need to stock up more often. What kind of hostess are you?" "The forgiving kind," she shot back. "Half an hour?" "Can't wait." There was a medium silence. "Scully, what are you wearing?" She smiled at the now-familiar question and retorted, "Good-bye, Mulder." Scully cradled the phone back in its base and finished the rest of her supper, carried container and fork into the kitchen and poured another mug of tea. She walked back to the living room with the mug and settled back on the couch, stretching her arms high above her head and easing some of the tension from her shoulders. It had been a long week and what she really needed was a hot bath and a soft bed. But as she'd done so often the last few months , Dana Scully was setting aside her own needs for Mulder's. All because of a field in Apison, Tennesse--a field that'd lead to questions neither of them felt comfortable posing to themselves...let alone to each other. And now it seemed those events had somehow triggered a game-playing frenzy in Mulder. Scully hadn't figured out the connection between the two yet, only that she knew without a doubt that there was one. There was a rapid series of knocks against her door and she rose and padded to the door in bare feet. "Mulder?" "The one and only." She flipped the deadbolt back and pulled open the door. Mulder stood in the doorway, his lanky height blocking the illumination streaming from the light fixture on the wall opposite her apartment door, throwing his features into undefined shadows and planes. She stepped aside and let him in, giving the door a shove to close it behind him. Mulder gave her one of his lop-sided grins and held out a paper bag to her. "Hi. Provisions." "Hi back." She took the bag and followed him into the living room, unfolding the clinch at the top of the bag and peering inside. A six-pack of Samuel Adams beer, two limes, a box of microwave popcorn, a package of sunflower seeds and another paper-wrapped object that looked suspiciously like a liquor bottle. As Mulder was shrugging off his jacket, Scully placed the bag on the glass-topped coffee table and dug into it, pulling out the package. She reached inside and freed the bottle of amber-colored liquid. Tequila. Jose Quarvo's finest. Scully looked up at Mulder and raised one eyebrow as he turned to her . "Planning on drinking the night away, Mulder?" She got the flippant remark she was expecting, but not the tone that should have gone along with it. Instead, his reply was soft and strangely sad. "Got any better ideas, Scully?" Their eyes locked for a moment, blue to hazel, before he broke the look and glanced down. After a second he asked, "The board?" "What?" Then his question clicked into place. "Oh. It's in the other room. I'll grab it. Make yourself comfortable." She left him to his own devices and rummaged through her bedroom closet, coming up with the backgammon board. On the way back out to the living room, for reasons she wasn't ready to explore, Scully stopped at the mirror above her dresser and tucked a few stray wisps of copper-colored hair back into the loose topknot on her head and pulled her baggy sweatshirt back into place over her shoulders. She took a few deep breaths and went out to join Mulder at the coffee table. He'd taken his usual spot on the floor opposite the couch, the table between them. The bag of sunflower seeds was opened, a beer rested in the hollow space on the rug created by his cross-legged pose and two shot glasses and a salt shaker were lined up with military precision on the table. He'd fetched a small cutting board and paring knife from the kitchen and was busy cutting a lime into wedges as she settled down across from him and flipped the latches of the game board. As Scully set up the red and black chips, she took several small glances at the man across from her. He looked tired and sweetly rumpled. Fox Mulder's medium brown hair was tousled, as though he'd been continually running his hands through it, and the stubborn lock of hair that he never seemed able to tame fell across his brow. His cheeks and jaw were dark with end-of-the-day stubble. His mobile mouth, with its full bottom lip, was relaxed and slightly open--a glint of strong white teeth could be seen. He was wearing an old pair of Levi's, his black construction boots, and a faded plum-colored Henley, the top three buttons undone, a hint of light brown chest hair peeking through the opening. His eyes, when he caught and held one of her examining looks, were a constantly changing hue, going from their normal hazel to a vivid greenish-gold in the space of a second. Old eyes, Scully thought. Old eyes, old soul. She immediately clamped down on the direction that thought was bound to take her in and gave him a small smile. "You okay, Mulder?" "I will be," he answered. "Soon as I kick your ass at this game." She gave him a skeptical look and shot back, "You're feeling awfully cocky tonight, aren't you?" Mulder eyes drifted back to hers and she felt her insides melt just a little bit at what she saw there. It wasn't just that she knew his quick thinking mind had twisted her simple comment into something lewd; it wasn't even the fact that she knew that *he* knew she'd picked up on it. It was all of that, and more. It was what was behind those eyes that caused her breath to catch in her throat. It was something that'd been missing in them since the disaster at the Temple of the Seven Stars. Something indefinable in the way he looked at her. Something she'd long ago chalked up to simple concern for her safety and a natural male tendency to want to lay claim to her--as partner, as friend. And sometimes, though not often, she'd seen in his eyes a desire to claim her in a different way. A question, a dare, a gentle demand that had taken all her strength not to surrender to and answer. It was a look that Scully had begun to miss desperately. She was now discovering just exactly *how* much she'd missed that look. And was wondering what had brought it back--what might have brought *him* back to her, in that way. She dropped her eyes and concentrated on the game before them, dumping the dice from the shaker into her hand and holding them out on an open palm to him. Mulder reached out and took one, his fingertips brushing across her palm. Scully tried her hardest not to shiver. She bit the inside of her cheek and bore down on the desire to lift her eyes to his and have him answer all the unspoken questions that skittered through her mind like rats in a maze. She set her face and glanced up at him. It was time for the game to begin. They shared an adversarial look and tossed the dice onto the board at the same time. Scully sighed as she eyed the one she'd rolled, and frowned at Mulder's six. "Winner and still champion," he gloated. "Sure you don't wanna just give up now, Scully?" "Jesus, Mulder, it was just the roll to see who goes first! You haven't beaten me yet." "Watch me," he retorted and gathered up the dice, dumping them back into the shaker. Six rapid-fire games later Scully sunk back into the couch and scrubbed her face with both hands. She'd been quite soundly beaten in all six games; had even been gammoned in three of them. The games had been silent--as they always were--no more than grunts and mutters passing between them. Aside from Mulder's occasional quips, neither of them was truly comfortable with courtesy conversations. And Scully had learned early on that Mulder was fiercely competitive at anything he did, simple board games included. There was no need for small talk, no needless interruptions during the games. All their focus was centered on the board in front of them and the strategy and roll of the dice. Scully opened her eyes and sat up, watched Mulder crack open the seal on the bottle and pour out two shots, not even bothering to ask if she'd join him. She guessed it was a given. He pushed a shot in her direction, along with a wedge of lime and the salt shaker. It was only then that he looked up at her, a hint of challenge in his eyes. She met it and brought her left hand up to her mouth, ran her tongue along the back of it and shook salt onto it. She licked the salt off, lifted the glass, brought it to her lips and threw her head back , letting the fiery liquid slide down her throat. She gasped and slammed the glass down on the table, grabbing the lime and sucking hungrily at it. Scully could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, tears springing to her eyes. But she simply wiped at them and gave Mulder the same look of challenge he'd given her. He regarded her with barely hidden amusement and took up the salt shaker. Mesmerized, Scully watched his tongue snake out between his lips to wet the back of his hand. Whether it was the effect of the shot she'd just downed or Mulder himself, she didn't know, but time seemed to have slowed down to a crawl as he mimicked her earlier motions and readied himself for the tequila. She watched as he sprinkled the salt onto his hand, the crystals falling slowing and silently like snow, scattering among the tiny hairs and raised veins, shimmering in the soft light cast by the lamp on the end table nearest her. He set the shaker down, licked away the salt, took up the shot glass and brought it to his mouth. Scully unconsciously licked her lips as she watched his curl around the rim of the shot glass. He held it to his mouth almost reverently, glanced up at her and tossed it back. She watched his throat as he worked the liquid down and fought back an almost overwhelming impulse to reach out and place her hand on his neck, run her fingers down the smooth skin and dip them into the shadowed hollow at the base. Dana Katherine Scully, she chided herself, what has gotten into you?! She couldn't blame it on the alcohol. Granted she didn't drink much, but she could down more than a few shots without feeling the effects as abruptly as she did now. It's not the liquor, a little voice inside her head whispered, it's the man who brought it, dummy! Whatever the change she'd sensed in him earlier but didn't yet understand, it was having an equal effect on her. Yin and yang, she thought. He acts, I react. It was a subtle dance they'd been perfecting for over four years. Though Mulder looked relaxed, there was an energy that almost crackled around him, was almost strong enough to set the hair at the nape of her neck on end. He was bristling with it. Some unknown, unfamiliar *thing* she just couldn't put her finger on. The scientist in her came to the forefront and decided that keen observation was the order of the night. Time to step back and objectively and unemotionally observe him for awhile. Well, another part of her mind thought, I'll wait just a minute before I do that. Wait till after I get a good long look at the way he sucks the bittersweet juices from the lime he just took between his lips. Wait till the slight pucker of those lips relaxes. Try not to think about how easy it would be to lean across the table and take his face in my hands, draw his mouth to mine, feel his lips moving over my own. Scully knew without a doubt what his mouth would feel like. What it would do to her to have that full bottom lip playing across hers, nuzzling and nudging in the gentlest but most demanding of ways.... "Earth to Scully. Hey?" She forcefully shook away her traitorous thoughts and raised her eyes from his mouth to the hazel depths of his eyes. His head was slightly cocked and a playful grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Where were you?" he asked. "Sorry," was the most she could manage. She could feel the color rising in her cheeks and for the millionth time in her life, cursed her fair Irish complexion. "I've seen that glassy-eyed expression enough times to know what it means, Scully." For the briefest moment of time, Scully honestly thought that Mulder had somehow been able to read her mind and her reply voiced her discomfort. "What are you talking about?" Mulder twisted his lips and held up a hand, not missing the slight edge in her question. "Relax, Agent Scully, I'm not questioning your motives. If I'm boring you and you'd rather be in bed...sleeping...I understand. Just say the word, I'll go home." "No," she blurted. "No. It's okay. Stay. I'm sorry." She smiled at him. "Blame it on Friday brain drain. I just wandered off for a minute. I'm back." His eyes locked onto hers for a second, as though looking for confirmation there, and then nodded and dropped his eyes to her shot glass. "Another one?" She debated. The first one had put quite enough unprofessional thoughts in her head, thankyouverymuch. Would a second one make things worse? How much worse can it get, Scully? she asked herself. You're practically giddy now! Giddy was something Dana Scully was not very good at it. But a little voice in her head told her that it might just be okay to drop some of her normally iron-fisted control over herself this once. Tonight. After all, this was Fox Mulder who was feeding her shots, not some stranger she'd just met in a bar or under equally tacky and unappealing circumstances. Mulder would never put her in danger if he could help it, and she knew that applied to their private lives as well as their work. And besides, it was so damn hard to say no to him. Especially when he looked all tousled and warm, his eyes hooded and soft and his mouth pliant and oh-so-inviting, like he did tonight. "All right," she decided. "Sure. I'll take another one." Scully reached out and began to gather up the backgammon chips. "Shall I set up for another round?" Mulder reached out and wrapped his palm around the underside of her arm, just above the wrist. He caught her eye and let his fingers slip down over hers, giving them a light squeeze. "How about a different game, Agent Scully?" She couldn't help but smile, predicting a Mulderesque quip. "What game, Mulder?" "Let's call this one 'Getting To Know You'." "I hesitate to ask, but what exactly does this game entail?" And what absolutely convinced her that all Mulder had to do, sometimes, was look in her eyes to know her thoughts as though she'd spoken them aloud, was what he said. He placed his hand over his heart and gave her one of those sad puppy-dog looks she still wasn't sure were contrived or not. "Scully, you wound me. Surely you know by know that I have only the most honorable of intentions where you're concerned." She looked over at him with what she hoped was a stern look and said, "Go pound sand, Mulder." He chuckled and moved as though to get up and leave. Scully didn't hesitate to reach out and grab his arm, awkwardly pulling him back down. She laughed a little as he settled back down, and they shared a warm smile. Mulder set up another shot for her as he said "Okay, this is how the game is played. Think of it as friendly interrogation. A question and answer session. I ask, you answer, Then it's your turn. " He slid the shot glass toward her and handed her a wedge of lime. He watched as she took up the salt shaker. "There are only two rules. One, you can ask any question you want--" Scully hurriedly cut him off. "I don't know about this, Mulder." He made a negative sound in his throat and held up a finger to quiet her. "Don't worry, Scully, I'm not going to ask you how you lost your virginity." She could feel herself blushing again and silently damned him. "I'm not interested in that part of your life anyway." There was a small silence and Scully swore she could feel Mulder trying to fight back the words that spilled out of him regardless. "You *have* lost your virginity, right?" She could do no more than gape at him, sputtering for words. "I.... You.... I swear to God, Mulder...." "Second rule," he went on, "is that we have to promise to be honest with each other, no matter what the question is. We have to trust each other." Scully felt her eyes drawn to his and saw the intensity in them. And a sadness that was almost fathomless. She frowned at him and once again pondered the mercurial shift in his moods tonight. One second he was cracking jokes and the next she could almost see the tension rising off him in dark waves. She had no more idea now what had caused the change in him than she had earlier, when he'd first come over; but at this point it seemed that what mattered to him was that she agree to his game. If that's what it takes, Dana, she told herself, then just do it. As though to fortify herself, Scully threw down the waiting shot and determinedly shoved the glass back at him, silently accepting his challenge. "You already know that I trust you, Mulder. And I hope you know by now that you can trust me." He nodded at her and poured himself a glassful of tequila. "Yeah. It goes both ways. But sometimes trusting someone means having the courage to say something that might cut close to the bone. I just want you know that." A very large group of butterflies chose that moment to take up residence in her stomach, having nothing at all to do with the liquor she'd just downed. All or nothing, she told herself. You can't have the roses without the thorns. Maybe this was exactly what they needed to clear the air that'd been so clouded between them the last few months. Hell, the last few years! she amended herself. But first things first. Scully lifted her hand and placed it over his, forcing his eyes to hers. "Why?" she quietly asked. Mulder dragged his eyes from hers and bent his head, furrowing the fingers of his free hand through his hair. She saw his shoulder rise as he took a deep breath, then watched them fall heavily, heard his audible sigh. "Hell, Scully, we've been working together for over four years and I don't even know what your favorite color is." His head shook. His eyes lifted and pinned hers. "Sometimes I feel like I know you so well that it's almost like you're a part of me. You know? Like you're under my skin, in my head. But if I wanted to go out tomorrow and buy you a flower, or, or a scarf or... shit... *anything*, Scully, I wouldn't know where to start." He ended with a befuddled, sheepish grin. Scully felt her face split in a wide grin and squeezed his hand, happy to feel the touch returned. "Pale pink," she whispered. His beautiful, soulful hazel eyes continued to study her for several long moments, and she could feel them pierce her in a way that no man but this one could accomplish. He reached out then, and brushed an errant wisp of hair from her cheek. "You're such a *girl*, Scully." It was a comment that would've stung her feminist sensibilities had it come from anyone else, but she knew that coming from Mulder it was a true compliment, and something that pleased him no end. Dana bit back a laugh and retorted, "A girlie girl, Mulder?" "Oh...." he breathed. "Yeah. Definitely. If you don't believe me, go ask Pendrell--he'll back me up." She tossed a lime wedge at him and watched him duck. And then the game began. ******************************************************************* end part 1 --------- End forwarded message ---------- From bower2@juno.com Wed Nov 20 17:21:33 1996 WOW! It was great to hear so many positive comments from so many of you so quickly (is that too many sos? :)) Truly, thanks to everyone who took the time to email me and let me know what you thought. Keep it up! This is a post-TFWID story that deals more with characters than cases. There are more spoilers here as well as stronger language than in the first installment. Disclaimer (like anybody is really interested, right?) can be found at the top of part 1. Enjoy! Games Part 2/? by L.B. Bower Scully had moved from the couch to the floor opposite Mulder. Both elbows were bent and braced on the coffee table, her chin resting in the cradle of her palms, fingers splayed across her cheeks. The backgammon board had been folded and set on the floor. A handful of sunflower seed shells was neatly piled up next to the half empty bottle of tequila. Dana Scully was feeling no pain. Neither was the man sitting across from her. Mulder had taken off his boots and had sat back from the table, stretching his long legs out in front of him, leaning back and resting his weight on his elbows. "Favorite animal," he asked. And that was the way the questions had gone since they'd started. True to his word, Mulder had stayed away from the really personal stuff, instead posing what seemed a non-stop series of questions that were remarkable only because they were so innocuous. Getting to know you questions--just like he'd said. Only occasionally would he stop the rapid pace and ask her for clarification. Scully had actually found the whole thing enjoyable...in an odd sort of way. Never one to be willing to show too much of her personal side to anyone but family, this nonetheless somehow felt right to her. And if nothing else, Mulder would walk away from this night knowing who her best friend in grade school was, along with a thousand other trivial aspects of her life. He could probably write a book. "My former cat Toodles." she answered. "You had a cat named Toodles?" She nodded sadly. "He's dead now. Squashed flat by a car when I was twelve." "I hate to say this, Scully, but you don't seem to have much luck with the typical house pet. First Toodles, then Queeqeg." She pouted at him and Mulder quickly added, "Not that the thing with the dog was your fault, mind you." He gave her a long appraising look. "You strike me as more the lion-tamer type." Scully snorted a laugh and stuck her finger in the pile of shells, drawing small circles in it and slowly forcing the shells farther and farther apart. To say that she had a nice buzz would be an understatement. She was warm and languid, completely relaxed. She knew she wouldn't have been able to perform even the simplest task had they suddenly been called away to a case. She snickered as she thought of trying to do an autopsy in her present condition. It wasn't like her to let herself go like this. She was the consummate professional, always ready should the need arise. It didn't matter what hour of the day or night--if something came up, Special Agent Dana Scully was primed and ready. A small, strictly disciplined part of herself kept whispering that she really should be ashamed for having such a good time. But the tequila, combined with the company of the man who lay sprawled across from her, made for deaf ears that easily drowned out that part of her. And why not? It was Friday night, she was an adult--why shouldn't she be able to kick back and have a good time like millions of other people did the first night of the weekend? Scully glanced down at her watch and was shocked to see the hands edging toward one. In the morning?! she thought. Good Lord, we've talked half the night away! Mulder had shown up at her door a little after nine. It didn't seem possible that they'd been at it for close to four hours. Time flies when you're having fun, she thought, and giggled again. Mulder said nothing, apparently content to lay back and listen to her make a fool of herself by cackling like a crazy woman. He finally sat up and dropped a sunflower seed in his mouth, working it around with his tongue before she heard the tiny crunch of the shell being cracked open by his teeth. "You gonna share?" he asked her. "Hmmm?" ""What you find so funny. The reason for this fit of giggles that seems to have taken over the normally staid and buttoned-down Dr. Scully." "Am I too inflexible, Mulder?" she queried, suddenly very concerned. "You know, do people talk behind my back? Say things about me that I probably wouldn't want to know?" "You're asking *me*?" he replied, a look of surprise on his face. "Me? The FBI's Most Unwanted? If they're talking about anybody, Scully, it's me, not you. Besides, if they do talk about aspects of your personality beyond your stunning beauty and consummate skill, I'd have to deck them for it." "You'd do that for me?" "In a second." That set off another burst of giggles. "What?" "Nothing, Mulder. It's just....well, I was just remembering how many times you've gotten your ass kicked compared to the other way around. Maybe I should look for somebody else to protect my reputation for me." "You do and you'll never get rid of me. I'll hound you to the ends of the earth. And beyond." "Why would I want to get rid of you, Mulder? You keep things interesting. I like having you around." She smiled a shy smile and chanced a look at him. "Ditto," he answered softly. And there were those eyes again, peering back at her, heavy and red-rimmed now with lack of sleep and copious amounts of alcohol. She didn't look away this time, didn't try to break the connection, letting his eyes move over her, basking in the warmth she felt coming off of him. He raised his arms behind his head and slowly lifted them, stretching luxuriously, a long slow panther-like stretch. Dana admired the sinewy beauty of his arms, the width and breadth of his chest and shoulders as his shirt pulled tight against his skin, his slim waist and narrow hips; the runner's legs that seemed to go on forever. She wet her lips and watched as he took another sunflower seed from the bag and popped it in his mouth, his eyes still focused completely on her--almost as though he knew her thoughts and was enjoying the silent admiration. "You know, Scully...." He broke off and looked away. Her only encouragement for him to continue was a questioning murmur deep in her throat. He glanced back at her and said, "You really are a puzzle; an enigma wrapped around a conundrum. I don't know if I'll ever figure you out." There was another small silence. "And despite this game being my idea," he continued, "I've got this feeling it could end up being dangerous as hell to keep playing." "Dangerous for who, Mulder?" "Me. My sanity. I have little enough of that to spare right now. I can't afford to lose any more. I've lost enough already." She felt his words hit her like a direct blow to her guts. The warm buzz was gone, replaced by a chill of realization. She instantly chastised herself for allowing this night to go on as long as it had. She should have known better than to drop her guard, to agree to a game that was nothing more than an excuse for Mulder to pick her brains looking for something he'd obviously found and then decided he didn't like. Was it that obvious to him, her feelings for him? They probably could have saved a lot of time if she'd just declared from the beginning of this night that, yeah, there was a real possibility that she was in love with him, had been for a long time, and that despite knowing they would never be anything more than friends <"In other lifetimes...always...."> she couldn't stop wanting him, aching for him. This isn't like me, she screamed inwardly, to continue to long for something I can't have! <"You were there, Scully! You heard it, you saw it! Why can't you *feel* it?!"> Is this what the game had been about all along? Was it Mulder's way of confirming his suspicions that the one and only woman for him had died on a dusty wooden floor in a building beside a field in Tennesse? He'd said it himself--that she was puzzle, hard to figure out. If any of this soul mate crap was true to begin with, even if only in Mulder's mind <"Souls mate eternal.">, then she would always remain the enigmatic Dr. Scully to him. Only with his true soul mate would the pieces of the puzzle come together, form a flawless landscape of emotion and desire and need. A completion. That there was sexual tension between them was a given. Pair two equally attractive and intelligent people of the opposite sex together, throw them into the middle of situations that would test any normal person and still have them come back for more, time after time, and it was obvious they'd be drawn to each other. But for always? For good? For the right reasons? It would be so easy to stand up and take his hand, pull him from the floor and lead him to her bed. So easy to shed her clothes along with all her inhibitions and just give into the mutual need and attraction. Get it out of their systems and go back to the status quo. So easy. And ultimately so dangerous. Was that what Mulder had meant? That to succumb to the pull that thrummed between them at this very moment like an overextended rubber band would end up destroying everything they'd built over the past four years? She couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let it happen. It wouldn't be worth it--not in the long run. And it was the long run that Scully had to consider, the thing that mattered most to her. "Mulder....?" "Mmmm?" She shook her head, trying to throw off her jumbled thoughts, wishing to hell he'd just get up and leave and wanting just as desperately for him to stay. "Nothing. Forget it." He looked a question at her and waited for an answer, but there were none she could give him. After a minute he eased up off the floor and disappeared into the kitchen, coming out moments later with a glass of water. He settled back down on the floor without looking at her. "Favorite movie." She heaved a tired, drained sigh. "Mulder...." "Favorite movie," he asked again. She flipped her hands up in a gesture of frustration. "I don't know. 'It's A Wonderful Life'." "Ha!" he burst out, sitting up tight to the table. "I knew it! I had you pegged all along. You, Dana Katherine Scully, are the eternal optimist." She couldn't help but share his smile. "Why? Because I like happy endings?" "No. Because you try so goddamn hard to be so tough and you're not. You're a marshmallow, Scully. Through and through. I bet you used to bring home strays when you were a kid." She bowed her head and mumbled, "Only Toodles." And then he reached over the table and pushed his fingers past the loose tendrils of hair at her throat, curling his warm fingers around the nape of her neck and gently tilting her face up with the pad of his thumb beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. A tender smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Your secret is safe with me, Dana. It doesn't leave this room." He poked at his chest, over his heart. "It doesn't leave this spot. Safe and sound, right here. Always." She felt the tears spring to her eyes then and quickly pulled away from him, ducking her head. Why is he doing this to me? she wondered. Why am I doing this to myself? Why does he always know just what to say to get to me? "Scully....?" She swiped at her eyes and looked at him. "Too much tequila?" he quietly asked. "Or too much honesty?" "I'm a big girl, Mulder. I can take it. The tequila and the honesty." Tit for tat, she thought and could feel her spine stiffen, her resolve harden into a solid substance once again. A small but intensely hot ember sprang to life in the core of her: anger. At him, for doing this to her. At herself, for letting him She pinned his eyes and declared, "You're really good at dishing it out, Mulder, but can you take it? Will you hold up as well if it's you under the microscope?" The bitter edge in her voice was intentional, and she knew from the way his eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened that he'd picked up on it. "Can you get as good as you give?" He gave her a terse nod and said, "Only one way to find out, isn't there? Go for it, Scully. Give it your best shot." "Not tonight," she sighed. "It's late and I'm tired." "Backing down already, Scully?" Even she had her breaking point. "Fuck you, Mulder," she hissed. "You've been making up the rules all night! Now it's my turn! I'm tired and I'm going to bed. You can let yourself out." She shoved up off the floor and pushed past him as he rose and tried to block her way. He grabbed her upper arm and swung her around. And then she found herself firmly tucked against him, the back of her head cradled in his hand, his arm wrapped tightly around her back. She thought of pushing him away but it felt so good to be in his arms, even as angry as she was. She cursed herself for her weakness. It was Mulder who pulled away seconds later. His hands came up to cup and tilt her face upward as he bent his head until their noses almost touched. His breath whispered across her skin as he said, "The game resumes tomorrow night. My place, your turn. Bring your appetite and your ammunition." And then he lifted his mouth and brushed a kiss across her forehead. "'Night, Scully." He grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch and walked out the door. Dana was left standing in the middle of her living room thoroughly confused and hoping like hell he'd make it home all right. end part 2/? From bower2@juno.com Thu Nov 21 19:36:48 1996 Hi gang! Here's the the next installment. Thanks to all of you for hanging in there with me and sending all the great feedback. I'll get part 4 out to you as soon as I can, but it may be two or three days before you see it. I'm not usually this prolific, but all the words of encouragement have kept me at the keyboard until *way* past bedtime the last few nights. I need some sleep and my house is trashed. But fear not: there *is* more coming! Until then, go back and read what you've got and enjoy that delicious UST just a little longer--Mulder and Scully certainly are. Games Part 3/? By Lydia Bower Fox Mulder opened the oven door and peered in. The seafood lasagna was browning nicely and the garlic bread was hot to the touch. Okay, he thought, now I just need Scully to show up. He stepped back to the counter and finished up the salad, tearing off some plastic wrap and covering the bowl before shoving it into the fridge. He grabbed the pitcher of iced tea and poured himself another glass before elbowing the door closed. The nasty little sonovabitch that'd taken up residence behind his eyes had been pounding out a steady rhythm since he'd awakened that Saturday afternoon. Mulder hadn't had a hangover in years and now he could keenly remember why he'd vowed then never to drink that much again. The earlier trip to the warehouse that'd called itself a grocery store had been an experience he didn't want to soon repeat. The combination of the blinding lights, awful muzak pouring from speakers strategically placed throughout the store and the Saturday afternoon momas with their screaming kids had made him want to pull out his gun and shoot somebody. He supposed he could have gone the easy route and ordered a pizza when Scully showed up , but he didn't want to take the easy way. Especially not after last night. He'd have to pay a heavy penance to make up for what he'd put Scully through, and the best thing he could come up with was to sentence himself to an afternoon in the kitchen. None of that frozen in a chunk, take it out of the foil pan and declare it homemade lasagna crap. She deserved more than that, and nobody knew that better than a very hung over Fox Mulder. He couldn't even begin to imagine what Scully must be feeling like. She'd kept up with him, shot for shot, last night. Take into account the fact that she rarely drank, combined with how small she was compared to him, and he figured she was having a whopper of a day. What an idiotic cruel thing to do, Mulder, he admonished himself. It's not enough that you were bound and determined to get loaded last night, but you had to drag her along with you and then end up twisting her heart in your hands until you could almost smell the blood. The game had seemed like a really good idea at the time. A lot of things he'd thought were good ideas had ended up turning to shit in his hands. And we won't even think about the times it almost got you, not to mention Scully, dead, a vicious little voice reminded him. Oh, and don't forget about your father, Fox. Or Melissa Scully. Let's not forget Dana's sister, okay? Yep. That's Fox Mulder for you. In his relentless pursuit of The Truth he'd managed to leave a trail of broken lives and broken bodies behind him. He figured he could probably add a broken heart to the list now. "You're such a putz, Mulder," he mumbled as he threw himself down on the couch. He crouched over, elbows on knees, fingers laced at the top of his head. He'd wanted so badly to call her this afternoon, make sure she was all right. He'd even looked down and discovered the phone in his hand two or three times. But he couldn't make the call. No, this one had to be Scully's. Not that he expected a phone call from her. But tonight, the continuation of the game, had to be totally her decision. If she showed, great. If she didn't, that'd give him almost a day and a half to get up the balls to face her come Monday morning and that long walk down the hallway and then down the stairs to his office. He could picture himself opening the door and time coming to a crawl as he faced her and tried to pull on the Special Agent Mulder persona he had to wear to work. When what he'd really want to do would be to throw himself down at her feet and hand her his gun to shoot him. The voice he thought of as MulderDevil piped up in his head: We can fix that. Go in Sunday night, sleep in the chair. Be there before her. Then it'll be Scully's problem. She'll be the one to have to face you. "Shut up, Mulder," he whispered. He grabbed for the bottle of Advil and popped four in his mouth, washing them down with a slug of tea. <"If there's an iced tea in that bag...could be love." "Must be fate, Mulder. Root beer."> God, had he loved her even then? Absolutely. He'd loved her from the night she'd come to him, terrified and dressed only in her underwear and a thin robe, and had so trustingly slid the robe from her shoulders and turned her back to him. He could still remember how creamy-white her skin was, how soft under his fingers. Did his hand shake as he reached out to examine her lower back for the marks? He thought it had, just the tiniest bit. And then she'd turned to him and thrown her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. He was absolutely terrified at that moment. Because he knew he was falling in love with her and there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do about it. Mulder tipped back his head and threw up a wish to whoever or whatever might be up there and could help him. Please let Scully show up. Please let Scully show up. It was like a litany that'd started and had been keeping time with the little drummer boy in his head ever since he'd forced himself out of bed this afternoon. He glanced at his watch. Seven fifteen. If she came, when would it be? How long would she make him sweat before she finally showed up? *If* she shows up, he reminded himself. He hung his head and studied his sneakers. Wonder if she'll bring my boots? he thought absently. He couldn't believe he'd done something so stupid. He'd left after what he'd thought of as a very serious moment between them. Had seriously grabbed his jacket and seriously left her apartment. It wasn't until he'd reached the street and could feel the winter chill seeping through his socks that he'd realized he'd left his boots upstairs. Putz. He would rather have been drawn and quartered then gone back up to get them. No way, no how. Instead, he'd stumbled to the car and made it home in one piece, driving like a blue-haired old lady the whole way, certain he was going to get pulled over and taken to the drunk tank. Wouldn't've been the first time. It was then that he happened to glance over at the apartment door and see a shadow cut across the light that streamed in through the space between the door and the floor. The shadow stopped directly in front of his door and Mulder found himself reaching for the gun that when not in his holster was always within arm's reach. He waited for either a knock or the explosion of the door as someone kicked it in and got neither. Someone lost? he wondered. He pushed up from the couch to investigate and practically jumped out of his skin when the knock he'd been expecting finally came. "Jesus," he hissed. He stepped to the door, gun still in his hand and hanging loosely at his side. "Yeah?" he called. "Mulder, it's me." He released a puff of air from pursed lips and threw back the deadbolt, trying to force a casual and calm expression while his heart was busy doing a crazy pitty-pat dance in his chest. He vaguely wondered if he wouldn't rather have had the person at the door turn out to be one of Them instead of the woman he'd been flogging himself over all day. At least then he would have known what to do, been able to formulate a plan of action instead of standing there terrified of what might happen once Scully stepped into his apartment and shut the door behind her. She's here! She came! shouted another, stronger, voice, and that one overrode any other thoughts he might have had. Mulder pulled open the door and faced Dana Scully. His partner, his friend. And the keeper of his heart. "Hi," he said. And felt his remaining breath forced out of him as his boots were shoved savagely into his midsection, steel-toed tips first. "Hi yourself," came the reply. "I thought you might want these back." "Uh, yeah. Thanks." Mulder grabbed the boots in one hand and put on his best contrite expression. Stepping aside to let her in, he held his arm out and away from him in a silent gesture of invitation. Scully stepped through the door and into his apartment. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and closed the door behind her. Okay, she's here and actually in the apartment. Now what? he wondered. Well, let's see, how 'bout we follow her into the living room and then get down on our knees and beg her forgiveness. How 'bout that? Instead he stood firmly rooted to the spot in front of the door and watched as Scully shrugged off her heavy parka and turned to face him. One look at her and he knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. First of all, she looked absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. Her reddish-gold hair was loose and softly waved, not blown-dry and curled and every strand in the place the way it was when they were working. It appeared heavy and thick and he wanted nothing more than to step to her and sink his hands into the silken strands, weave his fingers through the fiery tresses, pull her close and bury his nose deeply into the luxurious warmth of it, pulling the sweet smell of her deep into his lungs until he could taste the essence of her on his tongue. She was wearing a simple pair of tight-fitting black pants and a loose, oversized pale pink sweater with a rolled collar. And he understood completely why that particular shade was her favorite. Rather than clashing with her red hair, the pastel color complimented her complexion and alabaster white skin, matched perfectly the color of her winter-chilled cheeks, somehow managed to make her eyes the most incredible shade of blue. Her eyes. Which at this very moment were blazing with a fire that had nothing whatsoever to do with his admiring glance. Dana Scully was about as angry as he'd ever seen her. The rest of her expression was calm, her face unlined, her full lips slightly parted and moist, looking so much like an invitation to meld his lips to hers that he felt a shudder move through him. If only he could get past her eyes. Definite roadblock there, Mulder, he thought. Highly, highly pissed. Well and truly. And who could blame her? His respect for the woman in front of him went up another notch--which put her at about the level of a deity. He knew how easy it would have been for her to not come here tonight, to blow off his invitation and leave him hanging. She had to be feeling some of the same embarrassment and regret that'd been plaguing him all day (though for entirely different reasons), but while he'd been busy sparring with MulderDevil over how best to get around the awkward situation he'd placed them in, she'd been busy dressing to kill and no doubt planning on using this evening as an excuse to bring him down more than a notch or two on her own scale. Good for you, Scully! he thought. She was a hell of a woman. Her voice broke his train of thought. "Well, are you going to shoot me or offer me something to drink, Mulder? Or would you rather just stand there and look at me all night." Yeah, I could do that, he thought. But what he said was, "Shoot you?" She dropped her eyes to his side and lifted her chin in explanation. It was then he realized he was still holding his gun. "Oh," he said and crossed the floor into the living room, setting the gun back down on the coffee table. They stood there for several seconds, enveloped in an awkward silence, Mulder studying the floor. He risked a quick side-long glance and found her gazing at the TV, seemingly mesmerized by the basketball game being played out there. He purposefully snatched the remote from the table and killed the TV. "Want something to drink, Scully?" She looked over at him then and he thought, Sweet Jesus, she's sexy! She had her typical 'I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, the unbeliever,' face on, complete with the single arched eyebrow and the 'you're gonna have to prove it to me' look in her eyes. Mulder couldn't help but break out in a grin. "Iced tea, water, chocolate milk, or oj?" "What, Mulder, no tequila?" He groaned audibly, and seconds later heard the sweet sound of her answering chuckle. The tension level in the room dropped considerably. She turned to face him head-on and scrutinized him for a good long time; long enough to make Mulder uncomfortable all over again. "You look terrible," she finally declared. "Scully, you're far too polite. I look like shit. I feel like shit." She studied him for another few seconds and said, "You don't look *that* bad, Mulder. But I'd lose the pasty white skin if I were you. It just doesn't work on you." She lifted her hand as if to reach out and touch him and held it that way for a moment before she let it drop. "Have you taken anything?" she asked, enough true concern in her voice to make his heart twist. "It is possible to OD on Advil, Scully?" he posed as his answer. She smiled up at him and then said mischievously, "I feel great, myself. I popped right out of bed this morning and got all my weekend have-to's taken care of. Laundry, grocery shopping--" Mulder groaned again, recalling his own trip. "--returned some research material to the library. Cleaned up the remains of our little party." The last statement was a clear sign to him that all had not been forgotten, let alone forgiven. As if he could forget. As if she'd let him. And while he was on this track, how dare she have suffered not a bit of misery from all the tequila she'd downed the previous night? He wondered if she knew some highly classified doctor's secret to preventing hangovers. It wouldn't surprise him a bit. "If you can make it into the kitchen, I'll take some tea," she said. She looked him up and down. "On second thought, I'll get it myself. Sit down, Mulder, before you fall down. And what is that smell?" she threw over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. Instead of following her orders, Mulder trudged into the kitchen behind her and leaned against the counter, watching her get a glass from the cabinet and pour some tea into it. "Take a look," he said and nodded in the direction of the stove. She did, opening the door and peering inside. She closed it and turned back to him. "Smells great. What is it?" "Seafood lasagna. My mom's recipe." "*You* made this, Mulder? I thought the closest you came to cooking was picking up a telephone and ordering in. I didn't know you were so talented." "I have a lot of talents you haven't discovered yet, Scully." He pegged her with his eyes. "I'm a real Jack of all trades. A Renaissance man for the 90's." Scully returned his look and he could feel his knees go weak as a dull, pleasant ache flared up and centered itself somewhere in his groin. Strange phenomenon, that. He was sure that Scully could come up with a scientific explanation for why she could make him go weak with a simple look, but he wasn't sure he could push the words past the lump in his throat to ask her. "And what are some of these talents, Mulder?" she asked innocently; while at the same time her eyes were transmitting messages to him that were anything but. He took two long steps toward her and when he was standing mere inches from her, lifted his hand and tipped her face up with his fingers. He instinctively leaned into her, bending slightly at the waist, almost draping himself over her. What had first begun as a posture meant to lessen the distance created by the dramatic difference in their height when they were working a case and needed to confer quietly had, for Mulder, turned into an unconscious gesture of possessiveness. It was second nature to him now, to lean into her space like this, to claim a right he'd never seen her extend to anyone else. He studied her face, moving his eyes along the soft planes and sweet angles of her features. He caressed her with his gaze, drinking in the sight of her thin, elegant nose, her high cheekbones, the bottomless depths of her eyes. He brushed the backs of his fingers across the velvet down of her cheeks and settled his eyes on her mouth. He absently wondered if it would be possible to live on nothing more than the promise of sweetness he was certain those lips held. "Would you like me to tell you, Agent Scully, or show you?" he murmured, his lips a fraction of an inch away from hers. Her eyes slipped shut then and she uttered a tiny sigh, her breath warm against his mouth. Mulder honestly thought he was going to explode--a victim of spontaneous combustion. God, he wanted her so badly! All earlier thoughts of his miserable condition flew right out of his head. He felt like he was floating inches above the floor. Do it, Mulder! a voice urged him. Just kiss her and get it over with, goddammit! But he didn't. No, this game was too delicious to end it so soon. And whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not, they still had issues between them that needed to be resolved. He was going to see to it that they were. Tonight. He leaned away from her and ran his hand down the length of her arm, from shoulder to fingertips, as Scully opened her eyes and looked at him with a mixture of bewilderment and disappointment. He tangled his fingers up with hers and gave her hand a tiny squeeze before letting go. "Much as I'd love to stay this way all night, contemplating your many fair attributes, Agent Scully, I'm afraid our supper would suffer the consequences. I'm not letting this go to waste." He leaned around her and retrieved the lasagna from the oven before turning back to her in time to catch the shiver that visibly ran through her. He grinned at her and asked, "Hungry?" His double meaning wasn't lost on her. Scully made an annoyed sound deep in her throat and swatted him, catching him squarely on the ass. I can die a happy man, he thought, I've been spanked by Dana Scully. How many other men in this world can say that? Yep. It was going to be an interesting night. end part 3/? --------- End forwarded message ---------- From bower2@juno.com Sat Nov 23 11:00:10 1996 Okay, faithful readers, here's part four. Thanks again for the great feedback and the not-so-gentle nudges to get this thing wrapped up. We're moving into the home stretch with this one. Lots of Mulder and Scully angst, but there *is* a payoff. :) Be warned, this installment gets a bit, um, naughty at the end. Comments? This is a post--TFWID MSR character study with heavy doses of UST. Disclaimer (yada yada yada) can be found in Part 1. Games Part 4/? by Lydia Bower Mulder was rather proud of himself. Despite a horrendous hangover, he'd managed to put together an awfully fine meal. The lasagna was perfect, rich with the flavors of crab and shrimp and lobster; the garlic bread was crusty and warm, the salad crisp and refreshing. And the company? Well, that was the best part. Mulder looked over at Scully and watched as she licked the last of the ice cream from the back of her spoon. Butter pecan--her favorite. She was perched on the edge of the couch, hunched over the bowl like a little kid who wants more and knows she won't get it. Mulder was sitting on the floor facing her, the coffee table separating them. And it occurred to Mulder that that seemed to be happening to them a lot lately: there always seemed to be something distancing them from one another. Now that he thought about, he did hold an unreasonable grudge against inanimate object these days. Things like desks, coffee tables, arm rests in cars, tables in diners. There were other things too, barriers of a different kind. Emotional walls they didn't seem willing or able to scale. Things they didn't talk about. No, he thought, I'm not going to think about those things right now. Not yet. Scully would let him know when it was time. She was in charge of the games tonight. It had to be that way. And even though it was so damn hard for him to give up even an iota of control, he knew it had to be this way. "Want some more, Scully?" She thought about it for a second. "No, I better not. I'm about ready to explode." She smiled that sweet smile of hers and said, "Thanks, Mulder. That was really good--all of it." "My pleasure," he murmured and then just let himself float in her eyes for awhile. Scully finally broke the look and stood, gathering up the ice cream bowls and heading for the kitchen. "Just leave 'em, Scully," he began to protest. She threw him a look over her shoulder and went on her way. "Damn stubborn woman," he muttered as he stood and followed her into the kitchen. She was standing at the sink, rinsing the bowls and spoons. And suddenly the distance was way too much for him to take anymore. He quickly crossed the floor and came up behind her, slipping his arms around her, one at her waist, the other just below her neck, and pulled her back to rest against his chest. She made what he could've called a token attempt to pull away from his embrace before he felt her slowly relax in his arms. So controlled, his Scully. Always so afraid to let down her guard and let anyone in. It'd taken him three years to figure out a way to get her to let go of some of that steely control. That had been the purpose of the backgammon games to begin with. His idea. His suggestion that they get together once a week or so and wind down by losing themselves in something simple yet complex. Something that might allow him to look inside her head and find the real Scully. Not the polished professional, but the woman. And even though she'd quickly agreed and never canceled a scheduled session to do something else, even though the weekly games had turned into twice a week and then often three times a week he still didn't know much more about her than he had to begin with. But they were still good, those nights together, hunched over the board. Good for both of them. It should have been enough for him...but it wasn't. Mulder never had been satisfied with good enough--he always wanted the best, the most, all or nothing. And so the game the previous night. He remembered thinking that if conversations over the game board wouldn't do it, then maybe alcohol and a new game would. Yeah, get her drunk and see if she'll open up then. Brilliant, Agent Mulder, just brilliant. He couldn't figure out which was the worst fate: being an asshole or knowing you were and not being able to stop yourself. But that was last night, not now. Tonight was a chance to make a fresh start, to begin to rebuild what he'd destroyed the night before. Please let me do this right. Give me this one chance and I promise I won't screw up again, he silently vowed. He dipped his head to bring his mouth close to her ear, wisps of her hair brushing against his cheek. "Leave them, Scully. I'll take care of them later," he said quietly. "It'll just take a minute--" she began. "Leave them. Please." Her hands stopped their busy work and lifted to curl around the forearm slung across her chest. Her hands were tiny and wet and warm, and Mulder felt a sigh escape him and unexpected tears spring to his eyes. She was so small against him, so vulnerable. Fragile. He flashed back on a hospital bed, Scully lying pale and so still, tubes and machine hooked up to her, anonymously and unemotionally keeping her alive. He knew if something like that ever happened to her again it would kill him. He couldn't survive that, not again. <"I had the strength of your beliefs."> He felt Scully's answering sigh and then, "It's time, isn't it?" Ahhh, he thought, just one more minute like this. Just let me hold you one more minute before we take up where we left off last night. I'm not sure I can spill my guts with as much grace as you, Scully. "That's up to you. It's your call." "Okay," she decided. "Let's do it." If Mulder wasn't mistaken, and he didn't think he was, Scully was just as nervous about this as he was. MulderDevil liked that idea very much--it made for a more equal playing field. He lowered his arms and let her turn and slip by him, her eyes downcast, and followed her back to the living room. This time it was Scully who settled on the floor. It only took Mulder a fraction of a second's thought before he picked up the coffee table and moved it away from couch. He could feel Scully's eyes following him and when he lowered himself to sit on the floor directly in front of her, he saw the question in her eyes. He shook his head at her look. "I... I just don't want you to have to look up at me. And I don't want anything between us, Scully...not tonight." She nodded her head in affirmation and briefly laid her hand on his bent knee before she folded in on herself. He didn't know how else to describe it. She pulled her knees up tight to her chest and hugged them, making herself as small and compact as she could. My God, he thought, she's making a smaller target of herself! It wasn't until that moment that Mulder realized how very wounded she'd been by the previous night's events, and a hot wave of guilt poured over him, through him. This stops right now! he raged at himself. I won't keep doing this to her! It stops now, tonight! Mulder glanced up at Scully and was shocked to see a single tear slip down her cheek and fall from her face. In the quiet of the apartment he actually heard the tiny sound it made as it landed on the front of her sweater. He came up on his knees and reached out to pull her to him but Scully instantly raised an arm and stopped him. "No! I don't want you to touch me right now." She met his eyes and explained, "I can't, I can't do this if you keep touching me, Mulder, I just can't do it that way." He quickly backed off, murmuring, "Okay, okay. Don't worry about it, Scully. It's okay," as though she were a wounded animal who'd snapped at the person trying to help her. There was a long, endless time that passed then; neither of them speaking. It seemed to Mulder an eternity before Scully once more raised her head and looked at him. He could see in her eyes that the game had begun. "What was the purpose of last night, Mulder?" she asked. Leave it to Scully to cut through the bullshit and get to meat of the issue. "I mean, what was the point? You did have a point, didn't you? Please don't tell me it was nothing more than mental masturbation." Compliments of MulderDevil, about a half a dozen smart-ass retorts popped into his head. But this time the brain was quicker and smarter than the mouth and he wisely voiced none of them. "I need to know," she pleaded. "Please." "Jesus, Scully," he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He'd been hoping they would work their way up to this slowly. He should have known better. Well, maybe it was best this way. Just get everything out in the open and into the light and then start sorting it all out. I'm about to vomit the contents of my heart and soul all over this woman, he thought. I hope she's got the stomach for it. He looked up and found her studying him, waiting for an answer. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I had to know, Scully. I had to make sure." "Know what, Mulder?" she asked. "What are you talking about? You had to know what my favorite color is, what I wore to my senior prom, the name of my favorite kids' book? The world was going to come to an end if you didn't pick my brains for this vitally important information?" "Scully...." "No, I want some answers, goddammit! I want to know what was so fucking important to you that you had to get me drunk and then ask me a thousand questions that didn't make any sense to me last night and still don't make sense now! Why do you have to look at me like you did last night, like you do every time we're together? And why are you doing it now? Why did you hug me back there in the kitchen? Why do you say the things you say to me? Why do you have to stand so close to me all the time, Mulder? Why do you have to smell so good? Why--" "Because I love you." "....do you have to be so goddamn arrogant and sure that you're always right and I'm always wrong?" She stopped then and stared at him, wide-eyed. "What? What did you say?" "I love you, Scully." It wasn't as bad as he'd thought it might be. Once the words had finally been said, it actually felt pretty good. And if nothing else, he'd discovered a sure-fire way to shut her up. She narrowed her eyes and snapped, "Kiss my ass, Mulder." "I'd love to." And then she uncoiled, came up on her knees and slapped him across the face--a hard, stinging blow. Okay, I deserve that, he thought. So he sat there and let all the fire that'd been smoldering in her eyes slowly burn him to a crisp. He bared his heart and prayed that everything he felt, everything he'd wanted to say to her would be telegraphed through his eyes. A million thoughts ran through his head but uppermost was a single wish, clean and crystal clear in its purity: Please let her love me back. Please let her love me. Please.... He watched as the anger drained out of her, replaced by something indefinable but that nonetheless scared the hell out of him. She gracelessly folded back down to the floor, knees tucked under her and her bottom resting on her heels. She hung her head and he could see the tremors that ran through her. Is she crying? he wondered. No. Her face was dry when she raised it. "You can't," she declared. "You can't love me." A bitter laugh escaped him. "Sorry, Scully, but I don't seem to have much say in the matter. And it's way too late to do anything about it now." "But..." she wet her lips and a small spark lit up behind her eyes. Not the anger that'd been burning there before: something different. Hope? "But what about...." "But what about what, Scully?" And then she said the name he really hadn't wanted to hear, had hoped to avoid. But it was an impossible hope. Because that name had built the last wall that now stood between them. And the barrier was too strong for him to tear it down alone. "What about Melissa Redell, Mulder? What about Sarah Kavanaugh? Your soul mate?" she practically spit the words at him. How many times had he listened to the tape of Melissa Redell's regression? How many times had he listened to his own? A hundred? A thousand? He'd managed to wear them so thin he was afraid to play them anymore. And he must have picked up and examined the photographs Scully had found another hundred times, studying the faces that were so much like his and Melissa's. He'd lain awake so many nights over the last few months trying to find a compromise between the evidence in front of him and what his heart had been telling him since shortly after the first time Dana Scully had walked into his office that he'd forgotten what it was to get a full night's sleep. Mulder met her eyes and said, "I wanted to believe. But I can't. Not anymore." "What changed your mind, Mulder?" She didn't sound convinced. Not a bit. "You did, Scully. Just like you always do." Her eyes went soft and filled with tears and she slowly and tenderly brought her fingers to his cheek. The one she'd so soundly slapped. She whispered "I'm so sorry." He placed his hand over hers and turned his face to plant a kiss on her palm--a benediction and an acceptance. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, thankful for her gentle touch. Mulder felt her push a lock of hair from his brow and slowly opened his eyes. She dropped her hands and whispered, "Tell me." "I said that I wanted to believe, and I do--some of it. But I can't believe all of it. Because I can't let what I believe me cost me what's most important to me. And that's you, Scully." He took one of her hands in his and bent his head, trying to find some way to tell her about what had happened to him in Apison in a way that would make sense to her. Scully turned her hand until their palms lay together and then slowly entwined her fingers with his. "I can't explain how I knew about the bunker, Scully. I don't know why I was drawn to that field or to Melissa. Maybe some of what she said was true. Maybe even some of what I said had seeds of truth in it. But there are too many inconsistencies, too many things that don't make any sense. Cancer Man, Sidney...." He looked up at her. "And even if what Melissa said about the two of us is true, it doesn't matter, Scully. Don't you see?" he implored. "It's now, it's this life, this one, the one I'm living now that matters. Not who I was or who I loved in another life. Not who I might love the next time around. This is the only life I can live. I can't live in the past or the future. I can't make decisions based on whether I'm supposed to be with you in this life or not. In this life *you* are my soul mate. I *have* to believe that. I do believe that. Because if I don't that means you won't ever be more to me than just my friend. That means I won't ever be able to touch you or kiss you or love you the way I want to and honest to God, Scully, if that's the kind of life I'll have to live than I'd rather just pick up that gun and blow my brains out." And then she was in his arms, throwing her own arms tightly around his waist like she'd done the very first time and whispering, "No no no no," in his ear. And she felt so good. Scully keep up the soft crooning as his hands slid slowly up and down her back, memorizing the planes and valleys of her skin, the dip of her waist and the supple muscles that lay just under his fingers. "Oh, Mulder," she sighed. He realized she was crying and pulled her away from him just enough to get a good look at her. He brushed away her tears with back of a finger and whispered, "What, Scully? What's wrong?" And then a horrifying thought entered his mind and sunk its sharp teeth deep into his heart. "Don't you....? Are you crying because you don't, well, you know, and you don't want to hurt my feelings? 'Cause if that's what it is, that's okay, Scully. I mean, just as long as you don't ask for a transfer and ditch me, I guess I can learn to deal with it. Scully?" He was babbling and had absolutely no idea how to stop himself. He wished to hell she would say something. And then he realized she didn't have to. Because her glorious smile told him everything he needed to know. "Oh, Scully," he breathed and whatever else he was going to say was cut off as she placed a single finger over his mouth. "Shut up, Mulder." He smiled what he knew had to be a goofy smile (because he felt so goofy right now), and said, "Okay." And then they just sat there for awhile, with Scully curled up in his lap, and smiled at each other. Mulder felt like he'd been injected with a happy drug. Well lookie here, MulderDevil piped in, you might actually have gotten through this with a little bit of your pride left. Shut up, Mulder, he thought and banished the voice to the farthest reaches of his brain. But then Scully got up and sat on the couch, leaving his lap empty and his brain dull. "What...." "Mulder, we have to give this some thought." He groaned loudly and shoved off the floor, coming to sit beside her. Good old Scully, always thinking with her head. "No, we don't," he retorted. "We don't have to do anything but feel right now." He playfully nudged her with his elbow. "Just go with it, Scully. Live a little." She gave him the Special Agent Scully look and argued, "But what about the job? What about Skinner?" "Fuck Skinner." "I'd rather not," she retorted dryly. "You'd *better* not," he quipped. "Really, Mulder, it's not just the job. I mean, I've been working with you and loving you for a long time now, so I don't think that will be too big a problem. But I don't think we can just rush headlong into this either. There are too many things to consider. And we've both paid the price for rushing into things before, haven't we?" She had a point. His head knew she did, but right now his body really didn't give a damn. He wanted her and he wanted her *now*. He'd waited so long to be able to show her just how much she meant to him. Jesus Christ, he hadn't even kissed her yet! "Yeah," he said, hating himself. "You're right. We better take it slow, make sure we know what we're doing." Which may have been what she wanted to hear, but the response to his words was something he definitely didn't want to have happen. Because Scully said, "Good," rose from the couch and retrieved her parka, slipped into it and turned back to him. All he could do was stare at her, open-mouthed. "I'm going to go home now, Mulder, and try to figure out the best way to handle this. And I think maybe you should do the same." Sometimes Scully's analytical mind drove him completely around the bend. This was without a doubt one of those times. It was probably a very good thing he loved her more than life itself, otherwise he would have lunged at her and rung her neck. But I don't wanna think about it, he inwardly whined. I just wanna do it! "Mental masturbation, Scully? Is that what you're suggesting?" he asked as he got up and walked with her to the door. "Sometimes you just have to take what you can get, Agent Mulder." He buried his face in his hands and moaned, "Oh, Scully, you're killing me." "No. I'm loving you." "Coulda fooled me." She laughed then and stood up on tip-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. It took all his inner strength to keep from grabbing her and swinging her up in his arms and carrying her to his bed. Instead he opened the door up for her and stood aside to let her through. They stood in the doorway for several seconds, looking at each other longingly. Finally Scully said, "G' night, Mulder," and turned to leave. Nope. No. It ain't over yet, he thought to himself. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back around. He took one step and raised both hands to cradle her face, bending over her and bringing his mouth to hers so swiftly he felt the shock of surprise run through her. He meant only to give her a small kiss, just enough to satisfy himself until he saw her again. Yeah, right, another part of him thought sarcastically. Because once his lips touched hers, there was no going back. It was like their mouths were made exclusively for one another. There was no awkward fumbling, no question of whose nose went where or which one would tilt their head this way or that for the best fit. In fact, the very small part of Fox Mulder's mind that was still able to function flashed the odd thought that it was almost as if their mouths were like magnets, negative to positive, drawn inexorably together to form a perfect connection that anyone or anything would be hard-pressed to break. It was just gentle nudging to begin with, Mulder brushing his lips across hers in tiny up and down motions, feeling his bottom lip catching on hers and then pulling across it before encountering her top lip and doing the same there. Her lips were slightly parted, as were his, and their breath mingled and flowed from one to the other until he wasn't sure if he was breathing or she was doing it for him. It didn't matter. What was his was hers. All of it. His heart, his soul, his very breath--all of it belonged to Dana Scully alone. And then he stopped halfway through one of the nudges and caught her lower lip between his teeth, gently nibbling it before he flicked across its velvety surface with his tongue. And Scully moaned. A long sweet moan that went directly from her throat to his groin, bypassing everything in its way to finally settle in low and hot. He could feel his erection growing huge and rock-hard at what seemed an alarming rate of speed and he instinctively turned with her until her back was against the door frame, her arms snaking up around his neck as her mouth opened under his. And then he began to devour her, one long slow lazy kiss at a time. He slid one hand down her back as the other one cradled her head, tipping her face up to his. His hand rested for an instant at the small of her back before it slid lower and he cupped one deliciously plump and firm bottom cheek in his hand. Their tongues were doing a slow but intense dance at that point, sliding one over the other, round and round, probing lips and teeth and moist inner cheeks. She tasted of apples and sweet spices and he thought he might finally be losing his mind. How was it possible for anyone to taste as sweet as she did? Mulder bent his knees, leaned in even closer to her and moved his other hand down to her bottom, cupping her in both hands and swiftly straightening his legs, lifting her from the floor and pressing her solidly against the wall beside his open door. Scully's legs came over and around his, her heels digging into the backs of his knees and he thrust his hips up hard against her. Once. Twice. Again. Scully broke off the kiss then and tipped her head back, another low moan escaping her. He opened his eyes and gazed at the soft white expanse of her neck, her flushed cheeks and open, inviting mouth. Her eyes were closed, her lashes laying dark against her skin. He watched her for a moment, pondering the many choices that presented themselves to him before finally deciding. After all, they were supposed to be playing a game, weren't they? He stepped back then, releasing his tight hold on her and easing her down until her feet once more touched the floor. The instant her eyes flew open Mulder bent down and pressed a chaste kiss on her brow. "'Night, Scully," he said. Then he turned and stepped back into his apartment, shut the door and purposefully turned the deadbolt, hearing the audible snap as it clicked into place. He walked to the couch and sat down, pushed back the sleeve of his shirt and studied his watch. The second hand barely made one full revolution before he heard Scully's key slide into the lock. It was really hard to keep the triumphant grin off his face as she stepped back inside. Fox Mulder--winner and still champion. end part 4/? From bower2@juno.com Mon Nov 25 16:43:28 1996 Hi gang! Remember when I told you that we were moving into the home stretch with Part 4? I lied. :) This thing has just taken on a life of it's own. Actually, I don't see any more than one or two more installments before it's wrapped up. In the meantime, keep that feedback a'comin'! You have no idea how much nicer it is to write when you're doing it for someone besides yourself. Oh, and one more thing: unlike the first four parts, this installment is told from alternating viewpoints. In other words, we get to peek inside both their heads. Pay attention! Look for part six after Turkey day. :) This is a post-TFWID MSR character study. It contains fourth season spoilers and is rated a most definite NC-17. Keep it away from the kiddies. :) Disclaimer: (No, they don't belong to me and never will) can be found in part 1. Games Part 5/? by L.B. Bower Scully didn't say a word as she entered his apartment and Mulder wasn't going to be the one to break the silence. She flipped the deadbolt closed and shed her parka, letting it slip from her arms and fall to the floor. Mulder watched her slow progress as she moved across the room and came to stand in front of him, just outside of reaching distance. He looked up at her and watched as she placed her hands on her slim hips and stared down at him. Mulder tried so goddamn hard not to smile at her but in the end he just couldn't do it. He bit his bottom lip as the corners of his mouth drew up. There was fire in her eyes, and desire, and amusement. But the tone of her voice was strictly business. "That was a really rotten thing to do, Mulder." "I'm sorry." "No, you're not," she countered. He laughed then. "You're right, Scully. I'm not sorry. Hey, but at least now you have some idea what I've been going through. You can't blame a guy for finally doing what he's been waiting four years to do. Not after the opening you left me." She gave a little nod of her head, as though he'd just shared a piece of information with her regarding a case or something else equally unimportant to what was happening between them right now. Scully maintained her business-like persona and he quickly fell into the same mode, playing yet another game with her. "Four years?" she asked. "Yep. The best four years of my life." She nodded again. "Me too." "Yeah? Well, that's interesting, Scully. Seems we've already made a really good start at not rushing into things, wouldn't you say? In fact, I'd have to say that under the circumstances I can't think of a single reason why we should wait any longer. Can you?" The sexual tension was so thick between them that Mulder could actually see it. It was coming off Scully in hot, shimmering waves. He could smell her from three feet away. That lovely, fragrant Scully smell--a combination of soap and shampoo and all those girlie things that made her smell so.... Oh God... and underlying all that was the unmistakable smell of a woman aroused. That heavy musky aroma he associated with tangled sheets and hot skin; with moist, secret folds and the soft pillows of breasts. It had been a long time since he'd wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Scully. A long time. She lifted her hand then and wagged a single finger at him in an unmistakable 'come here' gesture. He poked his chest. Me? Scully nodded her head and he was off the couch like a shot and holding her in his arms, wrapped so tightly around her that he though he might just absorb her into his skin. And God, he wanted to! He wanted to envelope and cocoon her, surround her completely until nothing and no one could ever hurt her or disappoint her or anger her again. Where she could be safe and forever with him. Forever, he thought. Yeah, I like the sound of that. He kissed her then. Slow soft tender kisses, not frenzied and hard like the ones in the hall...but no less full of passion. That particular desire had been banked and another, different one flared up: a desire to show her with gentle, easy movements how much he loved her and how important she was to him. They were kisses of affirmation and hope. He held her precious face in his hands and covered it with kisses soft as butterflies' wings. Her cheeks, her forehead, the lids of her closed eyes. He dropped them like gentle rain on the strong line of her jaw, her chin, the tip of her nose. He tilted his head and laid a line of them from the soft spot in front of her ear down her jaw and over her throat to the place where the muscles of her neck curved into her shoulder. "Ohhhh, Mulder...." she sighed. "Yes?" he murmured against her skin. "Oh God.... Please." He brought his lips to her ear. "'Please', what, Scully? Tell me what you want." "I want...." He took the lobe of her ear in his teeth and bit it softly. "Oh...." "Say it, Scully. Tell me what you want me to do." And so she did. With her mouth--but not with any words. She reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging his mouth from her neck and up to her lips. She flicked her tongue across his mouth and plunged it between his lips, searching for and finding his answering tongue. One hand left his hair and leisurely roamed his back, squeezing and rubbing, slipping lower and lower until she grabbed his ass and kneaded her fingers into him, bringing her hips up tight against him and moving them in slow circular motions that threatened to shred any remaining composure he might have. Her hand left his ass and slid over and down the outside of his thigh and then back up, slowly moving closer and closer to the hot, hard center of him. This time it was Mulder who moaned as her hand brushed over him lightly and came back a second time, and then over and over again before she finally tightened her fingers around him and traced the shape of him through his jeans. Then she removed her hand and stepped away from him. Mulder wanted to cry. She peered up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and asked, "That answer your question, Mulder?" "Oh yeah." He licked his lips and tasted her on them. Combed through her tousled hair with his fingers. Traced the shape of her face with his fingertips. "There's just one more thing we have to figure out here. One more question." "What's that?" she purred, as her small hands settled at his waist. "Do we give in to our baser instincts and tear off our clothes and do the nasty right here on the floor like mindless animals, or should I carry you to my bed where we can take our time?" "You have a bed, Mulder?" "Um hum. Even changed the sheets today." She reared back a little and gave him a long look. "If I didn't know any better, Agent Mulder, I'd say you had this in mind all along." "Never hurts to plan ahead, Agent Scully. I used to be a Boy Scout, you know. 'Always be prepared' is my motto." "Well, then, I think we should go with the bed and the taking our time part." "I agree. I've always believed that you should never hurry a good thing." "So we concur on this, Agent Mulder?" "Absolutely, Agent Scully." And then he picked her up in his arms and carried her down the darkened hallway to his bed. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Dana Scully had undergone a transformation the instant she'd pulled her keys from her pocket, found Mulder's and slipped it into the lock. She'd been aware of the fundamental change in only the most basic of ways: her decision to go back to him. And that decision had been made not by the scientific, analytical, controlled part of her mind but by her body and, perhaps more importantly, her heart. She'd spent what had felt like an eternity standing in the hallway outside his door, her body trembling from Mulder's passionate caresses. He'd been able to completely take over the situation and turn it to his advantage simply by kissing her. Part of her was angry with him for being able to that do her, and angry at herself for letting him. But another part of her, the part she'd always tried so hard to suppress and deny, wouldn't be neatly turned away and forgotten this time. The very essence of Dana Scully that was woman refused to allow her feet to carry her away. Not when everything she'd ever wanted and desired was behind that locked door. And all I have to do is walk inside and claim it, she'd thought. No more games, no more trying to deny the feelings that existed between her and Fox Mulder, no more going out of her way to avoid all but the most casual of touches. No more torment. If she'd somehow mustered the strength to walk away, Scully knew that it might have forever extinguished the flame that burned between them. It would have been the easy way, the sensible way. But all she could hear were Mulder's words, long dreaded and long wished for: "I love you, Scully." All she could feel was the memory of his hands moving over her, his mouth joined with hers, his tongue dancing across her own, his erection pushing hungrily against her, seeking out the warmth of her most inner core. She had been reduced to raw emotion and need and had been astounded to realize that it didn't bode the disaster she'd feared it might. In the end, it'd been a absurdly easy choice: Mulder and everything she'd longed for but never given voice to, or a life that would consist of nothing more than lonely nights, empty arms and a hungry heart. Once she'd made the choice a calm had settled over her like a warm blanket and remained with her now, as Mulder easily swung her up into his arms and carried her to his bed. There were no second thoughts, no regrets, no wondering if she'd made the right choice. There was only here. Now. This man and this night. They stepped into the bedroom and Mulder stopped by the bed and carefully lowered Scully to stand beside him. She turned easily in his arms and laid her head against his chest, holding him tightly around the waist. His heartbeat was rapid and strong beneath her ear. His arms came around her back and they stood that way for long moments, embracing in a way that had little to do with sexual desire. For Scully it was an elementary but priceless gift; a chance to hold tightly the man she'd loved for so long--simply because she desired it. Not because she was frightened or had faced down death and needed comfort. But only because she wanted to, and because she could. How many times had she needed from Mulder an embrace like this, wanted it with an ache that had pierced her heart? What a wonderful gift she was being given, to hold the man she loved. The sharp sting of tears came as a surprise to her. Dana Scully had never before known tears of joy such as she shed now, and she wanted to savor them. Mulder seemed content to merely hold her, give her these quiet moments to cherish. His gift to her. Scully finally raised her head from his chest and looked up at him. Mulder gazed down at her with soft, calm eyes and she lifted her fingers to his face. Slowly, as though blind, Scully traced the shape of his strong jaw, his chin. She brushed fingertips across his stubbled cheeks and over his brow, pushing back a stubborn lock of hair. She traced the shape of his eyebrows, the fine lines that etched his forehead. Ran a single finger down his strong nose. Dropped her fingers to his mouth and let them rest there a moment before she began to explore the shape of his lips. She smiled as Mulder pressed a kiss on her fingertip before taking her wrist in his hand and stilling her movements. He parted his lips and slipped her finger into his mouth, began to gently suck it. His eyes were dark with desire. Scully sighed as she imagined what other pleasures his mouth could bring her. She already was addicted to the power of his kisses. She wondered what it might do to her to have those lips surrounding a turgid nipple or the sensitive bud at the core of her. Scully pulled her finger from his mouth and dropped her hands to the buttons of his shirt. She concentrated on her task, knowing that Mulder's eyes never left her face; she could feel the heat of them, like standing before a raging fire that flushed her skin and raised beads of sweat along her spine. She reached the button just above the waist of his jeans and tugged the shirt free, undid the last button. Slipping her hands beneath his shirt, she laid both hands at either side of his waist. Scully ran her hands up along his sides and across his chest to meet in the middle, the springy hairs curling around her fingers as she drew small circles with the palms of her hands. "Do you like this, Mulder?" "I *love* this, Scully. I love it when you touch me." Mulder's voice was hoarse with desire. She slowly slid her hands down his flat stomach, feeling the muscles twitch and tighten as her fingers passed over them. She slid them back up and brought her mouth to his chest, dropping kisses on his skin, feeling his chest hair tickle her lips and nose. Her hands went around his back and she felt Mulder sigh as she found one flat nipple and took it in her mouth, teasing it with her tongue. She moved her mouth across his chest and to the other one, her hands running up and down his back in slow caresses, touching him in ways she'd only dreamed of. Mulder leaned into her and brought his mouth to her neck, kissing and nipping at her as she moved her hands back to his chest and up to the slope of his shoulders. She lifted the shirt, pushing it back and Mulder shrugged it off. Her hands dropped to his waist and searched for the top button of his jeans. And then Mulder reached down and stopped her. She looked up at him, puzzled. "You have way too many clothes on, Scully," he murmured, his voice rough and low. "Let's take care of that first." xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Even in the dim light that came through his bedroom window, Mulder could see the flush of Scully's cheeks, the sparkle of desire in her eyes. And with his words, a rarely seen shy demeanor seemed to come over her. She dropped her eyes from his and Mulder smiled softly, wondering at this new side of her. He lifted her face with the tip of a finger and whispered "I want you, Scully. I want to love you. But only if you want it, too. This has to be for both of us or it's not worth it." Her eyelids dropped and remained shut for long seconds before she opened them, and Mulder saw the resolve there. "I do want this, Mulder, as much as you. It's just... It's been a really long time, you know?" He smiled down at her and kissed her softly. "I know. But you need to stop thinking and just start feeling." He chuckled. "Just like riding a bike, Scully. You never forget how. Just trust me--trust yourself." She returned his smile and then crossed her arms, grabbing the hem of her sweater and starting to tug it up. Mulder stilled her hands. "No. Let me." Scully dropped her hands to her sides and stood before him so trustingly, her eyes dark and fathomless with desire. He slowly lifted her sweater over her head as Scully brought her arms up to help him along. As it pulled free, Mulder turned and carefully laid the sweater across a chair before he allowed himself to turn back to her and see what he'd unveiled. Mulder's breath caught in his throat and he swallowed down a lump big enough to choke an elephant. God, she was beautiful! She stood in front of him, her full breasts supported by a simple white cotton bra edged with lace. Her skin was pale and shone in the dim light, as though illuminated from within. He admired the way her ribs gently sloped down to form her tiny waist and Mulder was certain he could span it's width with his two hands and still have his fingers overlap. She was so small and so vulnerable. Her eyes were downcast and though he could have said something to draw them up, he didn't. A part of him knew she needed this time and he gladly gave it to her. Several seconds ticked by before he slowly reached out a hand and traced the top of the lace-edged bra with a fingertip, his touch a mere whisper against the rounded flesh of the tops of her breasts. He saw Scully shiver at his touch and could see the goosebumps rise on her chest, watched as the nipples hidden under the fabric tightened and strained against her bra. "You know, Scully, it's gonna be real hard to see you in your clothes now without thinking about how good you look out of them," he said, hoping to coax a smile from her. He got one--though she still wouldn't look at him. So slowly, from one side to the other, he slipped his finger over the lace before dipping it into the sweet hollow between her breasts. A quick movement of his thumb and finger unclasped the front and freed her breasts. He slid his hands up and slipped them under the straps, pushing them off her shoulders. The bra fell silently to the floor. Mulder dropped his fingertips back to her chest and dragged them slowly down over the rise of her breasts. His fingers cupped the sides of them, supporting their tender weight in his palms as his thumbs came to rest on her hard pink nipples. She sighed as he slowly traced circles over and around them. And then he took a nipple between each thumb and forefinger and gently tweaked them. Scully moaned and he bent his head to place a single kiss on the peak of each breast, running his hands up and down her sides, feeling her ribs and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He dropped to his knees and buried his face in the softness of her belly, placing kisses on the exposed skin above the top of her leggings. "Not enough," he muttered against her. "Not enough skin to taste." He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slid her pants down her legs, lifting one foot at a time to slip off her flat boots and free her from the constraints of the tight leggings. He brought his face back to her belly, feeling his erection straining against his jeans as he kissed the silky panties that covered her. His hands came around to cup her bottom as he laved his tongue over the soft skin and into her navel, flicking at it before dropping his mouth still lower and lower, breathing in the warm musky smell of her sex. He dropped a kiss on her mound before repeating his earlier actions in order to free her from of her panties. And then he stood and stepped back from her, drinking in the sight of Scully--naked as the day she was born and lovely enough to make him weep. "Dana? Hey?" he murmured. "Look at me." She raised her head and brought her eyes to his for a moment before they drifted shut again. "No," he softly pleaded. "Look at me. I want you to watch me looking at you. I want you to see, to know how beautiful you are. I want you to see yourself through my eyes." And so she did, her eyes moist with longing. She took up this new challenge and did as he asked; watched him as his eyes moved over her. She was trembling and her eyes were filled with a need he'd long hoped to see there. He stepped back to her and brought her into his arms, lifting her and laying her gently down on the bed. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Dana lay back against the pillows and watched as Mulder unhooked his jeans and slipped them from his legs. She was trembling almost uncontrollably--a combination of her own desire and an anxious need to please him, to be everything to him that he wanted. His kisses had set her on fire, his caresses threatening to send her over the edge of reason and to a place she'd never known before. How simple it had been to allow him to do this. How easy to give herself over to his hands, his mouth, his eyes. She'd watched him as he'd asked her to, seen his eyes glimmer with pleasure, known herself to be as beautiful as he'd claimed she was. It was a liberating and potent drug to know how much power she had over him in those moments, to know that all she need do was ask and he'd do anything she wanted him to. No questions, no debate, no weighing his needs against hers. Fox Mulder belonged to her in every way and Scully was rocked with the knowledge of that. He stood before her now, dressed only in his boxers. And Dana Scully laughed out loud. They were covered with a pattern of flying saucers and little green men. She couldn't help it. She tried her best to fight back the laughter that escaped her in huge, breathy whoops. She slapped a hand over her mouth and stared up at him. Fox Mulder stood before her, looking down at her sheepishly, his erection tenting the front of his boxers. Scully knew that it was a sight she'd never forget as long as she lived. "I'm...." she sputtered, "I'm sorry, Mulder. I just ...wasn't....quite...expecting those." Her words were sprinkled with giggles. She peered back up at him and was relieved to see his answering smile, hear his low chuckle. He tilted his head and quipped, "Well, I wasn't planning on providing comic relief at this point, Scully, but as long as you're happy, I'm happy." There was a small silence. "So, you like 'em?" "Yeah, Mulder, I like them." "Good. 'Cause if you like these, you're gonna love what's under 'em." With that, he shed his boxers and stood naked before her. And her laughter died in her throat. He was absolutely gorgeous. From the top of his tousled head to the tips of his big feet. He was slim and strong, his shoulders broad and thickly muscled, his arms powerful, his legs lean and shapely. Her eyes were drawn to his narrow hips and the wild tangle of his pubic hair. His erection stood out from his body, large and pulsing with engorged blood, the heavy sack of his testicles pulled up tight against his groin. She could see it throbbing and felt her sex flood with moisture in response, her clitoris growing tight and yearning for his touch. Her breasts were tender and ached for his hands, his mouth. She brought her eyes to his face and could see his desire written there--the pupils of his eyes so dilated with need that they were almost black. "Come here," she whispered, and sat up to take him in her hands, pulling him to her. She ran her fingers up and down his length, tightened her fingers around him and moved her hand in long slow strokes, her other hand cupping his balls. Mulder moaned and licked his lips, watched her as she continued to work him with her hand. She dipped her head and brought her mouth down to him, kissing the tip of his penis and tasting the salty fluid that leaked from him. She licked him then, a long slow laving of her tongue over his length, and took him in her mouth. Mulder groaned low in his throat and tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her closer to him. She moved her hands to his backside, squeezing and kneading the small, round cheeks of his ass as she began to move her mouth up and down on him, her tongue swirling around him as she increased the suction on his hard shaft. She could feel Mulder trembling, his hips beginning to move back and forth in tiny thrusts against her face. He continued to make low sounds in his throat, urging her on and she could feel her own desire continue to grow as he uttered a stream of unintelligible words before tightening his grip on her head. She pulled away then and he slipped from her mouth with a groan. Scully peered up at him wickedly and asked, "Does that make up for laughing at your boxers, Agent Mulder?" "Sweet Jesus," he breathed. "That makes up for every bad thing you have ever done or will ever do to me, Scully. The slate is wiped clean for life, as far as I'm concerned." "Good. Now why don't you come here and see what you can do about your end of it." She patted the bed beside her. "I aims to please, Agent Scully," he replied and slid down beside her with a smile. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx end part 5/? From bower2@juno.com Thu Nov 28 20:47:32 1996 Okay, faithful readers, here's the last installment of Games. Thanks for all the inspiring words you've sent my way :) This has been really fun for me! This story marked the end of a two year writers' block I was afraid I'd never get over; so that just makes it all the more special to me. Huge, huge thanks go to the gang at 1013 Productions and most especially to Chris Carter, David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson for giving us such interesting and inspiring characters. Y'all are the best!! This is a post-TFWID MSR character study. It is rated NC-17 for sexual content and language. Disclaimer can be found in part 1. Games Part 6/6 by L.B. Bower Mulder lay on his side and pulled Scully to him, pressing her warm, naked skin tightly against his own. She felt incredible--as though her muscles and bones were sheathed in silk instead of skin. He'd never realized that anyone could be so unbelievably soft. They lay nose to nose and Mulder began to nuzzle her face and neck, humming quietly to himself as his hands roamed and explored her back, her arm, the dip of her waist and the full swell of her hip. He ran his palm down her thigh and back up again and felt Scully tremble from his touch; her own hands dancing across him, touching and squeezing. He abruptly turned with her until she lay on her back under him. He came up on his elbows and took her face in his hands, covering it with soft kisses before he captured his mouth with hers. Scully moaned as his tongue plunged into her mouth and she wrapped her arms tightly around him, her hips and legs squirming under him, his erection pressed hard against her thigh. She brought one leg up and swung it around his thigh, urging him to between her legs. "No," he whispered into her mouth. "No, not yet." He gently pushed her leg back down, ignoring her breathy pleas as he moved off her and lay once more on his side. Leaning on an elbow in order to watch her response to his caresses, Mulder lay his hand on the flat of her stomach and drew it slowly up to cup one perfect breast in his hand. He squeezed the fleshy mound and was rewarded with the sound of Scully's low keening. Her eyes were tightly closed, her mouth open, her breath escaping in small pants. He moved his hand to her other breast and repeated the action before leaning over her and bringing his mouth down over one pink nipple. Scully sighed then and he felt his erection tighten in response. He used the flat of his tongue to tease the hardened bud, lapping at her like a kitten at a bowl of cream before he began to gently suckle her. Scully bucked her hips, squirming sensuously against the sheets and brought her hand down to cover his, urging it from her breast to move it down over her stomach until he reached the place where her pubic hair covered her sex. He stopped his hand then, pulling it from under hers and drew lazy circles in the soft nest of hair with the tips of his fingers as Scully clutched his upper arm, her nails digging into his skin. He lifted his mouth from her breast and ran his hand down the inside of her thighs and Scully parted her legs even further, hungry for his touch. He moved to her other breast, latching onto the nipple as he continued to move his hand from the inside of her thigh to the flat surface of her stomach, over and over again, touching her everywhere but the once place she pleaded with him to touch, ignoring Scully increasingly ardent, wordless entreaties. He would not be rushed. No matter he badly he wanted to mount her and bury himself deeply inside her, he held back, enjoying the sweet torture of making both of them wait. "Please...." Scully moaned as her hands moved over his back and chest. "Mulder.... God.... Oh, please." He let her nipple slip from his mouth and lifted his face to hers. He dropped a kiss on her mouth and murmured, "Look at me, Scully. Open your eyes and look at me." Her eyes came slowly open and she turned her head to meet his eyes. They were soft and unfocused. "You are so incredibly beautiful. Do you have any idea how much I love you?" "Show me, Mulder," she breathed. "Please. I can't.... I'm.... You're driving me crazy." "I know. I want to. I want to drive you crazy, Scully," he told her as he kissed her breasts, her face, her neck, the slope of her shoulder. "I want to touch you and taste you. I want to hear you call my name. I want to kiss every inch of your body, taste you on my tongue. Feel you move beneath me." He sat up and quickly knelt between her opened legs, his knees even with hers, leaned over her and brought both hands up to her shoulders and pulled them slowly down her body, exploring her breasts, her ribs, the smooth, flat expanse of her belly and down her thighs. His hands repeated the movement again and again, until he felt his own control slipping. Leaning over her once more, his weight resting on his hands, Mulder began to kiss and lick his way down the path his hands had created, nibbling gently at her skin as Scully lifted her hips beneath him, urging his mouth to her center. He dipped his tongue in her navel, pressed his nose into the dense forest of curls and breathed in the essence of her. Slipping his arms under her thighs and bringing them up around her hips, Mulder slid down on the bed and placed his thumbs on either side of her sex, opening it to his hungry mouth. He pressed his lips to her soft, moist folds and slipped his tongue inside her, savoring the sweetness of the woman beneath him. She tasted tangy and smoky, like fine wine upon his tongue. Scully's hands came down to tangle in his hair as he swept his tongue across her sex, searching for and finding the small bud of sensitive nerves. He danced his tongue around and over her clitoris in gentle, slow circles, taking his time, feeling Scully begin to buck and twist beneath him, her urgent pleadings of "Ohgoddon'tstopohdon'tstopdon'tstopohgod," sweet music in his ears. He sped up the motions then, flicking the tip of his tongue faster and faster against her until Scully lifted her hips off the bed, her back arching and her body stiffening as she gave herself over to the orgasm that enveloped her. "Yes...." Mulder mouthed against her, drawing out the word out until it was both promise and prayer. "Give it to me, Scully." Mulder was so caught up in her pleasure that he wasn't even sure what it was he was demanding from her. Her climax, certainly. Her love, her heart, her very soul? Yes, that's what he wanted. All of it. All of her. Everything she had and everything she was--he wanted it with need so fierce it frightened him. He eased her hips down onto the bed and moved over her, planting kisses all the way back up her body until his mouth melded with hers. Scully reached between them and took him in her hand, her fingers tightening around him as she tugged him to her sex, rubbing the tip of him against her before she lifted her hips and he slipped inside her a fraction of an inch before he stopped himself, wanting to draw out this particular pleasure for as long as he could. His mouth left hers and he sighed, his eyes slipping shut. This time it was Scully who whispered his name. "Mulder. Look at me. Open your eyes and see me." He forced them open and looked down at the woman beneath him, her eyes warm and filled with love, her smile beatific. "I love you, Fox Mulder," she whispered. "I love you." And then slowly, oh so slowly, Mulder slipped into her until he was completely sheathed by her velvet warmth. She was hot and tight and so wet, and he thought he might go mad with pleasure. He began to move within her, rocking slowly as Scully's legs came around his hips and held him to her. He cradled her face in his hands and fell into the bottomless blue depths of her eyes. Scully gripped his arms, moved her hands to his shoulder and down his back, touching him, always touching him, her hands leaving trails of fire on his skin. Though his movements remained rhythmic and slow, Mulder increased the force of his thrusts, withdrawing almost completely from her body before driving back into her like a piston, until their bodies were melded together--no longer two, but one. One heart, one soul, one mind. Their hearts beating as one, their breath taken in and expelled as one. A single powerful entity created and nurtured by a love and a trust so strong that it would surely become their triumph over all the forces that might try to keep them apart. Separated they were vulnerable, together they could not be defeated. Deeply shaken by this realization, Fox Mulder unveiled a truth that obliterated everything else. And discovered that the truth was love: his for Scully, hers for him. Mulder dropped his mouth to Scully's shoulder and gently bit her, his teeth nipping at her as he increased the tempo of their lovemaking and felt the answering thrust of her hips. She crooned and called to him, whispering his name over and over as they grasped and pulled and thrust at each other, neither satisfied with the mere joining of their bodies--both wanting more. Wanting to crawl inside each others skin until they were turned inside out by the magnitude and power of it. Mulder lifted his head as he felt the sweet pain of his release building, felt the tiny muscles surrounding him begin to throb and twitch as Scully reached her own peak and cried out. She clutched him tightly, arms and legs like steel restraints around him. He covered her mouth with his and opened up everything within him, offering it up to Scully and feeling his orgasm begin to flow over and through him as she accepted his gift. He pulled his mouth from hers and threw back his head as a hoarse cry was ripped from his throat. He gave a final thrust of his hips and buried himself deep inside her. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx They lay tangled together, their bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Mulder was curled around her, one heavy thigh slung over hers, his head pillowed on her breast, an arm thrown across her belly. Dana idly played with a lock of his hair, smoothing it back over his brow before dropping a kiss there. Mulder made a satisfied growl low in his throat and pulled her even more tightly to him. "Mulder?" "Hmmm?" "I'm really thirsty." He chuckled and pressed a kiss on her breast. He lifted his hand and stroked down her side and over the swell of her hip. Dana shivered. "Are you cold?" He peered up at her, one hazel eye obscured by an errant lock of hair. He looked so young and so untroubled that Scully feared her heart would burst in her chest, unable to contain the wealth of love she felt for him. She loved him so much it hurt. But God, it was a sweet pain. "No, Mulder. But I'm thirsty." "Yes, ma'am," he quipped. "At your service." He rolled out of bed and indulged in a long stretch, his back to her, and Scully took the opportunity to admire the fine lines of his back, the strength of his legs, the small, rounded butt that fit her hands so well. He padded out of the room and Scully snuggled deeper into the bed. Wow, Scully thought. That was.... She couldn't come up with the words to describe how she felt just now--the peace and the calm that surrounded her. The feelings of utter and complete satisfaction. And not just sexually, not just because Mulder was an incredible lover who seemed to know instinctively how and where and when to touch her, as though he was truly able to crawl inside her head and know her most intimate thoughts; it was more than that. If Dana Scully had been forced to choose a single word to describe how she felt, that word would've been 'whole.' It was as if in Mulder she'd found a part of herself that had been missing. A void that only he could fill. Yin and yang. Black and white, she thought, smiling to herself. Dark and bright. Fire and ice. Ham and cheese. Peanut butter and jelly. Dana began to giggle and was shocked by her giddiness. Can't blame it on alcohol this time, she mused. Not unless you consider Mulder a finely aged blend. She snorted a laugh. Yeah, that's it! I'm addicted to him. Hi, my name is Dana Scully and I'm a Mulderholic. She jerked a self-satisfied smile and looked over to find Mulder standing in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame, a tall glass of orange juice in his hand. "Hi," she said. He shook his head, a bemused grin on his face. "Hi yourself. You know, Scully, it doesn't do a whole lot for a guy's ego to hear the woman he just knocked himself out trying to please start giggling as soon as he leaves the room." He crossed the floor to the bed and handed her the glass. She chuckled and thanked him, drinking down half of the juice before she set it down on the night stand and scooted over on the bed. "Come here." Mulder sat down on the edge of bed with one leg tucked under him and gazed at her silently, a hint of a smile playing across his mouth. She reached up and pulled her fingers through his tousled brown locks. "Your ego has nothing to worry about, Mulder. They were happy giggles." "I've been hearing a lot of those the last two days, Scully. Are you sure you're all right?" There was a devilish glint in his eyes. "Mulder," she warned. "Because I'd hate to think I had anything to do with the transformation of my partner from the enigmatic Dr. Scully to a no-brained, giggling mass of very lovely, very naked female flesh. That sounds too much like an X-file." Mulder laid a warm hand on her upper thigh and began to walk his fingers up across her. "And I'd hate to think about all the water-cooler conversations if word ever got out in the Bureau that Dana Scully actually laughs from time to time." She was about to open her mouth when he pounced on her and began to tickle her. She squealed and tried to pull away but he held her easily with one arm while his fingers poked at her ribs, under her arms, the backs of her knees. They rolled across the bed, playfully wrestling on the sheets. Scully managed to get a foot up between them and placed it squarely on his stomach, pushing him away for the second it took her to scramble across the bed on hands and knees. But Mulder grabbed her ankles and pulled himself up over her, pinning her to the bed on her stomach. "Mmm," he growled in her ear. "This presents some interesting possibilities." "Umph. Mulder! Ow! Let me up!" He eased his weight off of her then, crouching beside her. And then bending over her, he dipped his head to the nape of her neck and ran his tongue down the length of her spine to the small of her back. Scully quit struggling halfway through his journey, clutching the sheets in her fists. "No fair," she complained. Mulder laid his head on one cheek of her bottom and wrapped his arm around her hips, stretching his legs out along the bed. "All's fair in love and war, Scully." "In games, too?" she asked. "The kind I play," he said, and nuzzled his nose into the spot where her thigh met her rear end. "Umm. I love this spot. It's soft, it's warm, it smells good. It's got everything I need. I think I'll build a house and move in." "Seriously, Mulder.... " she began. "Yeah, seriously. I mean, just look at the neighborhood," he quipped. "Can't get much better than this." She wiggled out from under him and sat up, turning to face him. Scully hated herself for throwing cold water on what had been a really great time, but she had to know. "The games, Mulder," she said, catching his eyes and holding them. "Last night, tonight...?" She paused, not sure what she wanted to say. Mulder was studying her, his typical dead-pan expression not telling her a thing. She wondered if she'd ever know everything that went on behind his eyes. She supposed by now that she shouldn't be surprised by anything he did. She'd spent the last four years of her life following after, defending, and protecting him; a man that more than a few people thought was crazy as a loon. But Scully knew better. Not that she could dispute the fact that Mulder had more than his share of personal demons, but he wasn't crazy--she'd seen too much, experienced too much, to fall into line so easily with his detractors. Still, there was a part of him that she didn't think she'd ever reach or be able to understand. The relentless pursuit of truths that often caused him to become selfish and arrogant, even downright hostile towards her...or anyone else who stood in his way. His single-mindedness was both his blessing and his curse. She couldn't help but wonder if that trait had been aimed in her direction for the sole purpose of getting her into his bed. It's not that she doubted his love for her, only his motivation. Had he begun the games with a different purpose in mind and, seeing her response to his relentless flirting, decide to take it in a different direction? And how much was she to blame for what had happened tonight? Scully dropped her eyes and studied her hands. "Why the games, Mulder? Not just last night and tonight, but the last year. The weekly sessions. It was more than just games, wasn't it?" She hated the doubting tone that bled into her words. Mulder sat up and pulled himself up to rest his back against the headboard. He reached out and brushed his fingers along her hand, lifting it and tucking it inside his own. "I think I know what you're asking, Scully, but I'm not sure how to answer." She lifted her eyes to his. "With the truth, Mulder." "The truth," he repeated. "The truth. The truth is that I don't know anything anymore, accept that I love you. I... I just needed to be with you, Scully," He sat up and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her to him. He nuzzled the top of her head and dropped a kiss there. "I wanted to find out everything I could about you. But you made it so goddamn hard sometimes!" His voice rose in a tone she recognized as frustration. Not anger, just a burning need to *know*. Everything. Uncover all the clues, put together all the pieces until they made a clear picture and answered all the questions. That didn't happen often in the cases they worked. Scully had never thought of herself as an X-File, but hearing Mulder's words made her wonder. Was she that much of a puzzle to him? "I just wanted you to open up to me, Scully, to let me peek inside the part of you that you always keep so hidden. And then after Apison...." He forced out a breath and pulled her closer. "After Apison it was even more important to me. Because I knew that I loved you, but all the evidence said it should be otherwise. It was driving me crazy, Scully. I got to where I couldn't even trust my own feelings anymore. And that's when I decided to get us drunk and ask you all those stupid little questions that I'd always wanted to ask but never did. Because I had to know." Mulder turned her in his arms until she was facing him and pulled her into his lap. He touched her cheek, brushed back the hair at her temple. There was such love in his eyes. And a quiet desperation that pleaded with her to understand. And she did. It was all making sense to her now. "I want you to know something, Scully, and I swear on my life that it's the truth. What happened tonight--hell, what's happened the last four years. The things I say, the things I do, the way I touch you and look at you. It isn't a game, Dana. Never a game. Never was, never will be. You are the only person I've ever let get this close to me since I lost Samantha. And what I feel for you has nothing to do with games. You have to believe that." She leaned up and kissed him then, knowing that mere words wouldn't suffice--only her touch would comfort him. He kissed her hungrily and lifted her from his lap, pulled her down to lay beside him, stroking her softly, kissing away the tears that slipped unbidden from her eyes. She loved him so much. She prayed that it would always be this way between them. That no matter what obstacles were thrown in their path, they'd find a way around them or through them. She laid her head on his chest and held him tightly, loving him. Always. The phone rang then, startling both of them. After four rings she raised her head and asked, "Are you going to get that?" "Nope." "Okay," she said, and snuggled back down, counting off the rings until they finally stopped at twenty. "Someone wants to talk to you pretty badly." "They'll call back," he murmured and reached down to grab the sheets and blanket and pulled them up over the two of them. She peered up at him just as Mulder's eyelids slipped shut. Not a bad idea, she thought, and closed her own. And then they popped back open as Mulder's cell phone began to ring, it's high-pitched tinny sound harder to ignore than the other phone. They looked at each other, disappointed, knowing what the call could mean. "You better get that," she told him. "Shit." Mulder threw back the blanket and headed for the living room. He was back in seconds, phone pressed to his ear, and settled on the edge of the bed. Scully reached out and rubbed his back, listening to the one-sided conversation. "Yeah.... Well, when did they discover the latest body?" He glanced down at his watch. "Agent Scully?" Mulder turned on the bed to face her, a wicked smile on his face. "Yes, sir, I think I have a pretty good idea where she might be.... Okay, we'll catch a flight out in the morning.... What?.... Tonight?...." Mulder reached up and scratched the back of his neck, sighed into the phone. "Okay.... The ticket counter?.... Yeah." He set the phone down on the bed. "Skinner?" she asked. "Who else? I never thought I'd hear myself say this, Scully, but you have to get dressed. We have to fly out of here tonight. Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go." "Fly out to where?" "Some college town in Illinois. A senator's daughter was found dead tonight and there've been three other bodies within the last month that mirror her possible cause of death. Apparently, the pressure's now on us to find out why. It's hell being the best at what we do, isn't it?" He threw her a grin and stepped into the bathroom. "I'm gonna grab a shower and then we can head to your place, get you packed. The file will be waiting for us at the airport. Wanna join me?" he asked with a lop-sided, saucy grin. Scully didn't take long to make up her mind. She smiled, slid out of bed and padded into the bathroom, coming up behind Mulder and wrapping her arms around his waist, leaning her cheek against his warm back. He reached behind him and gave her a backward hug before stepping away to turn on the shower. "So, Scully," he asked. "What do you know about sensory deprivation tanks?" The End Okay folks, that's it! Finally! Thanks for hanging in there with me. :) As you can probably tell by the ending, I have an adventure in mind for our favorite FBI agents that actually involves a case file, but (and it's a big one) I'm going to take my time getting this next one written. I've really toasted my brains getting this baby done for y'all--having written, edited and posted it all in a little over a week's time. I need a breather. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It was great fun and all your feedback made the long nights at the keyboard more than worth it! I'd love to hear from you if you have any comments. Thanks for letting me entertain you! Till the next time, L.B. Bower --------- End forwarded message ----------