From: "Radclyffe _" <rdclyfhall@hotmail.com>
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2000 13:43:17 EST
Subject: Genesis: Of Saints and Sinners 01/01 [ScullySlash/NC17]
Source: direct

TITLE: Genesis: Of Saints and Sinners 01/01
AUTHOR: Radclyffe
EMAIL ADDRESS: rdclyfhall@hotmail.com
ARCHIVE: anywhere, just let me know
RATING: NC-17; This story depicts graphic sexual encounters between same-sex 
consenting adults.
CATEGORY: Post-ep vignette
SPOILERS: Orison
KEYWORDS: Scully/Other(female); Scully/Slash; Scully Angst
SUMMARY: Scully, Mulder and Marsh wrestle with their personal demons.
CROSS-POSTING: Anywhere, and thanks.
DISCLAIMERS: Characters and events introduced on the X-Files are the sole 
property of Chris Carter etc, and are used here with no intent to profit.

Comments welcome and appreciated.

*****
Washington, DC
5:15am

"Alarm," Scully muttered.

"Mmppph," Marsh replied, and rolled over toward her, wrapping one arm around 
her waist, pressing close along the curve of her back.

The insistent buzz continued, and Scully slapped the button down on the 
bedside clock. "Marsh," she murmured, automatically drawing Marsh's hand up 
to her breast. "You have to get up."

"That's not the way to get me out of bed," Marsh whispered against Scully's 
ear, brushing her fingers down Scully's belly. She pushed her hips a little 
tighter against Scully's firm butt and growled softly.

"You have Grand Rounds this morning," Scully reminded her, her body suddenly 
much more awake. She shifted onto her back, letting her legs part under 
Marsh's hand. How many times had they awakened this way, and each time still 
so new. She turned her face to kiss the soft spot under Marsh's collarbone.

"I know," Marsh answered softly, leaning up on one elbow. Her explorations 
continued southward. "But surgeons shower fast." She bent her head, caught 
Scully's lower lip gently between her teeth, sucked lightly. She sighed as 
Scully's tongue teased along her own. "And I want you," she managed between 
lazy morning kisses.

"Mmm," Scully responded, lifting her hips encouragingly. Her mind was just 
reaching awareness, but her body was already humming. "What else can you do 
quickly?"

Marsh laughed quietly. "Some things should never be rushed."

Scully moved Marsh's fingers directly onto the spot where she needed them 
most. "Some things won't wait."  She caught her breath as her nerve endings 
twitched. *God, I'm always so ready in the morning*

"Ah, but this will have to last all day," Marsh teased, her lips caressing 
the underside of Scully's jaw as she brushed feather-light fingertips over 
her throbbing hard clit.

"Uhnnn," Scully answered, pressing her hand down over Marsh's, urging her 
with quick firm movements. "So make it, ohh, good."

Their fingers intertwined, and together, they slipped over slick smooth 
ridges and between warm, swollen folds. Then Scully led Marsh inward, 
moaning as Marsh filled her.

"God, that's nice," Marsh breathed hoarsely against Scully's neck.

"God -- has -- oh --nothingtodo -- uh -- withit."

"Mmmm, maybe," Marsh murmured, eyes closed, stroking gently, almost 
reverently. *But I feel so -- blessed*

"Thumb," Scully gasped. "Touch me."

Laughing, Marsh complied, starting a rhythm that matched the throbbing 
around her fingers. Back and forth she pressed, lost in the surging 
undulations of Scully's body. Soft moans and small startled cries mingled in 
an indescribable litany of love as Marsh carried Scully closer. Their hearts 
quickened together, racing with the flow of blood and rush of breath.

At the end, Marsh stilled, every sense exquisitely alive, attuned to every 
tremor that surged through Scully's body, memorizing every sound torn from 
her throat. *A miracle. Each and every time*

"Give me a minute," Scully finally gasped, turning to face Marsh. "I don't 
want you suffering all day."

Marsh raised her head, squinted at the clock. 5:34.

"Gotta go."

Scully tightened her grip. "I love you." Awake now, and very serious. *I 
hate it when you go*

Marsh kissed her, the teasing touch replaced by a sudden possessiveness. 
Hard, demanding for an instant. "I love you, too. More than I can say."

"You just did," Scully said, knowing it with more certainty than anything in 
her life. She kissed her again, then pushed her away gently. "Go. Or I won't 
let you."

"Go back to sleep," Marsh said as she slipped from the bed. "I'll shower at 
work."

And then she was gone, and Scully went back to sleep.

Until she was awakened at 6:06am.

*****
38 hours later

Through the open door, Mulder saw the Porsche careening up to the curb. He 
shouldered through the crowd of investigators, technicians, and crime scene 
personnel to intercept Marsh on the front steps. She was still in scrubs, 
without a coat, despite the frigid temperatures. She looked frantic.

"Where is she, Mulder?"  Marsh demanded, her voice brittle and tight. "Is 
she hurt?"

Mulder extended one arm tentatively to restrain her, but Marsh brushed it 
off impatiently.  Her eyes were blazing, a dangerous wildness swirling in 
their depths. "Just tell me."

"In the bedroom.  She's fine," he said calmly. More calmly than he felt.  He 
had been scared down to his shoes. First that he wouldn't get here in time, 
and then when he did - terrified by what he found. And by what he had 
witnessed.

"She's not _ fine _, Mulder.  How could she be?  Let me get by."

She stared at him, anger and something infinitely more frightening 
flickering across her face. Something menacing. He remembered the stories 
about Marsh's breakdown when Karen Summers had died. He wondered fleetingly 
if she still carried a gun. "Marsh --," he tried again.  "She's -- she took 
a beating -- it was ugly."

"And where were you, Mulder?" she grated through clenched teeth, her hands 
fisted at her sides, white with strain. "Where the fuck were you?" She 
wanted to hurt something, someone. She swallowed hard, burying her fury, 
because this was not what Dana needed.

Before he could reply, Marsh pushed her way past the strangers milling 
about, stepping over the scattered pieces of overturned furniture without 
really taking in the ruin.  She paused only long enough to close what was 
left of the shattered bedroom door.  Then she was across the room, and 
gathering Scully into her arms.

"How are you?"  Marsh whispered softly, holding the smaller woman gently but 
completely within the circle of her arms.  Dana trembled against her, and 
Marsh's heart lurched.  "Where are you hurt?" Her voice was soothing, while 
inside, she was raging.

For a long moment, Scully did not speak.  She rested her head against 
Marsh's chest and listened to the steady, comforting, solid sound of her 
heartbeat.  She pressed as close as she could, trying desperately to dispel 
the cold creeping through her body.  At length she spoke.  "I'm banged up a 
little bit.  Nothing too serious."

Marsh leaned back enough to look down into Scully's face.  "Your upper lip 
is split.  It's going to take a couple of stitches."

There was a strange emptiness in Dana's normally vibrant gaze.  Marsh might 
have thought it was pain, if she weren't so familiar with the color of pain 
in Dana's eyes.  She had seen it often enough. This was something totally 
different, and terrifying. *Oh jesus, what did he do to you?*

"Can you tell me what happened?" Marsh tried again. *Let me help you. God, 
let me do something*

Scully shook her head.  "Not now.  I can't -- "

Marsh nodded, drawing her near, pressing her lips to the pale skin of 
Scully's forehead.  "I understand.  Can you at least come with me to the 
hospital so I can repair these lacerations?"

Scully stepped back and surveyed the remains of her bedroom. There was blood 
on the floor, streaks of it congealing to black clumps amidst shards of 
glass. Her blood, and - his. Bits of mirror reflected the scene in a 
thousand fractured angles.  She struggled with a disorienting sense of 
unreality, knowing that all too soon it would dissolve into horrible truth. 
She watched herself pulling the trigger, saw the blood spray, and the body 
recoiling from the power of the impact. Her power -- her pain and loathing 
and mind-numbing fury. Had she been a disciple of good or the instrument of 
evil? Or had she merely sinned. Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not kill. 
Thou shalt --

"Dana?" Marsh asked quietly.

Scully looked at her blankly. There would be questions, many of them, from 
both the bureau and the local police.  And then what would she do? She 
wasn't sure how she was going to answer them; she wasn't sure what she 
thought herself.  "Let's go now," Scully said hollowly.  "I need to get away 
from here."

There was a soft knock at the door, and Mulder's tentative voice, "Can I 
come in?"

Scully cleared her throat.  "Come in Mulder, the door's open." She laughed 
without humor.  "Well actually, the door's about to fall off."

Mulder entered cautiously, then looked from one to the other. Scully seemed 
shell-shocked, and Marsh looked ready to hit someone. Most likely him. Maybe 
he deserved it. He hadn't really listened when Scully tried to tell him what 
was happening. He didn't believe, at least not in the forces that she was 
talking about. Evil? Oh yes, he believed in that. And that its name was not 
Satan, but man. And there was something else he believed in. He believed in 
her.

He took a breath. He couldn't change what had happened, but it wasn't over 
yet. There was no way he was going to let this destroy her. "They want us 
this afternoon, Scully, first at the station, then at the bureau."

Marsh stiffened.  "She's injured, and I'm taking her to the hospital. I'll 
let you know when she's ready to be questioned." She couldn't believe it. 
Hadn't they done enough to her -- all of them? The bureau, expecting her to 
face these monsters again and again. The perpetrators --the insane and the 
profane -- and even the victims; all had claimed a piece of Dana's soul. 
When would it stop?

Scully put her hand on Marsh's arm, and squeezed lightly.  "I'll be there, 
Mulder."

"Scully," he said intently. "It was right."

She didn't answer.

He watched them walk away, his partner encircled by Marsh's protective 
embrace.  He knew what he was going to say when asked, without the slightest 
bit of uncertainty or remorse.  He only hoped that Scully would find a way 
to do the same.

*****

"It wasn't Mulder's fault."

"Uh huh," Marsh responded automatically.  She picked up the syringe of 
lidocaine, and said, "Hold still.  This is going to sting."

Marsh slid the fine steel needle into the tender tissues of Scully's upper 
lip, injecting the local anesthesia. This she could do -- she could mend the 
tears, if not the deeper wounds. She didn't know how to begin to tend to her 
heart.

As soon as she could talk, Scully continued, "I knew something was wrong.  I 
could _ feel _ it.  From the very beginning, I felt like someone was trying 
to tell me something. But then I stopped listening." She blinked away tears. 
*Or maybe I just stopped believing*

Marsh poised with the suture in her hand. *Let her talk. It's what she 
needs* She set the instruments aside. "Who was trying to tell you 
something?"

"I thought at first it was God," Scully said very quietly.  And then she 
told her the rest, about the music, and the strange minister who knew things 
about her he should not know, and the man who seemed too monstrous to be 
human. About hunting him, and being hunted by him. Of what he did to her, 
and finally, of what she had done to him.

Marsh had pulled up a stool, and sat beside the narrow metal table upon 
which Scully lay.  She placed her hand gently in Scully's hair, her thumb 
stroking the soft wisps of red and gold along Scully's temple. "And now what 
you do think?"

"I don't have to think anything.  I know," Scully said flatly.  "I killed 
him. Mulder had his gun on him, had him subdued, and I executed him."

Scully looked at Marsh with eyes so wounded, so filled with torment, that 
Marsh wanted to lash out at everyone or anything that ever had, or ever 
would, harm her. Marsh loved her to the point of helplessness, and knew in 
that instant her utter powerlessness to protect her. Her impotence was 
choking her. She struggled to keep her voice even.

"Is there going to be a problem this afternoon?"

Scully shook her head. "Formality only. Everyone suspects something, but 
Mulder will back me."

Marsh drew closer. "And that's it?"

"Technically, yes," Scully murmured. "But I'll always know."

Marsh heard the anguish in her voice. "Maybe there are forces at work here 
you aren't meant to understand."

Scully turned her head, meeting Marsh's intense gaze. *You're always here 
for me, aren't you?*  For an instant she was comforted, and then she was 
standing in the living room again, cold steel in her hand. "Divine 
Providence?" she said bitterly. "I have killed, when I was forced to, but 
this - this was something different. I had a choice."

"Oh love," Marsh whispered. "Try to forgive yourself. You did what any one 
of us would have done. He _ was _ evil, in the worst ways that a human being 
can be.  He destroyed the lives of other human beings. Not just once, but 
many times, and he never would have stopped. Never. He threatened you in 
unimaginable ways, and what you did was justified. I can't believe that 
anyone, human or divine, would find you guilty."

Scully smiled faintly, because she knew that Marsh loved her. Just as Mulder 
did. Both of them were trying to convince her that she had not sinned. There 
were rationalizations, and explanations, and perhaps even justifications, 
but one phrase kept running through her mind. "Vengeance is mine, saith the 
Lord."

They leaned close together, bodies touching, each with their separate pain. 
Marshall Black, wanting so desperately to provide Dana peace, fearing she 
could not. Special Agent Dana Scully, wishing she could pray, knowing she 
would not.

"I love you, Dana," Marsh whispered, having only that to offer.

Scully absorbed the words, knew the truth of it, and felt the beginnings of 
absolution.

*****
End - Genesis: Of Saints and Sinners