From: eponine119 Date: Fri, 03 Oct 1997 23:44:29 -0700 Subject: NEW: Hey Jealousy 1/2 Disclaimer: The X Files, its characters and situations belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox. The song "Hey Jealousy" belongs to the Gin Blossoms. Author's Notes: This is post-Syzygy and has sex in it. I'd like to thank Red V. for wonderful editing! Please note this is NOT actually a song story. There are no radios playing oddly appropriate tunes, no characters bursting into song. ;) Any and all comments appreciated! _____________________ Hey Jealousy by eponine119 eponine119@att.net August 11, 1997 _____________________ She saw the tree. Maybe even before it was too late. But she didn't do anything about it. She was too angry, and she definitely wasn't thinking rationally. Her foot pressed down harder on the gas pedal, regardless of the bad road conditions. She gritted her teeth so hard her jaw was aching. Her heart was pounding and she could hear it in her ears and she knew such anger was not a good thing to indulge in. But she was just so furious. The car hit a bump in the road and control began to slide away from her, faster than she could get it back. She swerved, but the action only made things worse. She stepped on the brake, hard, but the car still slammed into the tree trunk with considerable force. Scully raised her head, opening her eyes. She was shaking but tried to hide it. She managed to unfasten her seatbelt and then she looked over at her partner. Mulder's eyes were closed and he was bleeding from the temple. So much blood...but then head wounds would do that. "Mulder, are you all right?" Scully demanded, reaching over to investigate his wound with her fingers. He flinched and groaned and shot her a terrible glare. "Nice driving," he told her. She just looked away, resisting the urge to say she was sorry. After a moment of listening to Mulder's soft sounds of discomfort, she tried the key in the ignition again, but the car didn't start. It was too badly damaged. She got out of the car to inspect it. The hood was smashed and the engine seemed to be compacted. The tree wasn't doing so well, either. Scully sighed, feeling the crazy urge to burst into tears. She walked a few steps to survey the damage and noticed Mulder had gotten out and was looking at the car from his side. He looked at her and she put her head down, feeling the same way she had when she was sixteen and had her first accident in her father's car. He'd looked at her in the same way, thinking she was irresponsible. "What now?" asked Mulder. Scully shrugged. "We walk." She put her hands in her pockets and started through the mud back up to the road. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mulder stumble and she reached out to him immediately, putting her hand on his arm to steady him. "Are you going to be all right?" she asked. "Sure. Fine." He left off the 'whatever' as he ripped his arm away from her hand. "Mulder, let me take a look at the cut on your head," she ordered, hating how strident her voice sounded even to her own ears. Her partner just kept walking. They could see the lights of a gas station from the road and it only took them a few minutes to reach it. The night was cold and Scully had her hands shoved way down deep into her pockets, but the chill still went all the way through her. An ill wind was blowing. Not to mention the tension she could feel like a rope about to snap between her and Mulder. Their relationship was that rope, she thought sadly. It looked strong enough to hold them both, but it was just about to sever itself, unable to stand the strain. Mulder waited outside while Scully arranged to have a tow truck come for the car first thing in the morning. The night manager of the gas station allowed her to call a cab company back in Comity that would take them to a motel back in town for the rest of the night. Scully didn't want to return to that city. But thanks to her, they had no choice now. Maybe it'll cheer Mulder up, she thought. He'll get another night with his precious Detective White. She made a sour face just at the idea of the woman and walked back out into the cold night air. "I called a taxi," she told Mulder. He didn't respond, just continued to stare out into the night. "It might take them a while to get here." He still didn't say anything. She walked over to him and brushed the matted hair away from the cut on his forehead. His eyes met hers. They were dark and she didn't want to think about the look she saw in them. It made her stomach feel odd. "This looks deep, Mulder," she said, unable to keep the worry from tainting her tone. "Thanks," he said. It's your fault was what that meant. Scully stiffened her spine a little and tried to seem as though his words didn't strike her straight to the heart. She produced a wad of tissues from her coat pocket and set about cleaning him up as best she could. He stood where he was impassively, as though she weren't even touching him, or like he wished she wasn't. She also had a couple of butterfly bandages in her pocket - she never knew when Mulder was going to need patching up, after all - and she used two of them to hold the cut closed. "Are you finished?" he demanded edgily. "Yeah," she sighed, moving away. "Mulder, I'm really sorry about all of this," she began, trying to make an overture. "Here comes the taxi," he said coldly, ignoring her. They walked over to it and both got into the back seat, careful not to get too close to one another. Mulder stole a look at Scully's face as the cab roared off back in the direction of Comity, the cursed city. She looked upset. Her face was white except for two spots of high color on her cheeks, from the cold or embarrassment or anger. It was pretty. She was pretty. He didn't know why he was being so mean to her. He just couldn't help it. He wished he could tell her all the things Madame Zirinka said about the lining up of the planets and how the town was in just the wrong place at the wrong time, but he knew Scully would never believe in something so unscientific. A cosmic G-spot, the astrologer had called it. The possibilities boggled Mulder's mind. He was frustrated. Sexually. Stuck in the middle of one of those horrible, everything-turns-me-on moods. Had been, ever since they got to the stupid town. That was why he'd started off teasing Scully in the first place. But she'd been so bitchy about it and things had just built from there. Maybe she was as frustrated as he was, Mulder thought suddenly, purposely avoiding thinking the word "horny." He stole another look at her, a longer one this time. Her brows were furrowed together like she was worrying about something, and her teeth were working over her bottom lip. There was a sad, almost lost, look in her eyes. And her posture was rigid. Scully? Frustrated? Mulder scoffed at himself. That would be the day. Scully was the perfect human being. She didn't feel things like frustration. Such an emotion would never dare to cross her mind. Not Scully the pure and forthright. Not she who was so cold and calm and scientific. Lust had never had a place in the equation. Mulder shifted in the seat as his body began to remind him why he'd been so nasty to her. It was hard dealing with such perfection every day when there was no way he would ever begin to measure up. He had baggage; he had problems. Scully wouldn't stand for them. She didn't have to: she could do better. There was no reason why she should: she was his partner. They were on a strictly look but don't touch basis. And Scully was just like that amazing toy in the store window that you didn't even want to look at because you knew you could never have it, but he just couldn't help himself. If she was hiding a yearning as strong as the one he was hiding, they both would have stopped being frustrated long ago, he thought. Scully just had enough sense to avoid him. She knew him, after all. The cab stopped in front of the hotel they had left mere hours before. Scully paid the driver and started inside. Mulder started off down the street. "Where are you going?" Scully called to him. "See if the rental car place is open," he called back. "At this time of night?" she asked, but then she let it drop. Obviously he was lying. He was going to see if Detective White was up for another night, since he was still in town. She didn't want to hear him say it, so she just turned away. Mulder stalked off into the night. He knew the car rental place probably wouldn't be open. But he also knew there was an all night liquor store next door to it. He was going to need something to combat the throbbing in his head and other regions. He was going to need something to help him through another night in this crazy city. %\%\%\ The harsh knock at the door roused Scully. She was lying on top of the covers of the bed and when she opened her eyes, she was surprised she'd been to sleep at all. Groaning, she got up and walked to the door in the dark, blinking a few times to try to clear the fog from her mind. She looked through the peephole. It was Mulder. He looked like hell. And she'd put him there. She didn't want to have to deal with him, not now, not when they were both in such crappy moods, but she couldn't not let him in. She opened the door. Stubble had appeared on his face. It made him look different. More dangerous. His eyes were overly bright, she noticed in the light of the hallway. She moved aside to allow him access and he walked into her room and plopped down on her bed. Scully turned on the light and he seemed to recoil from it. She wondered if she needed to recheck his head wound or maybe even take him to the hospital. If he had a concussion and it went untreated... She crossed her arms and stood against the door looking at him. "Mulder," she said, waiting for him to start in on her again. He didn't say anything. He just patted the bed beside him. She looked at him wearily. "Are you all right, Mulder?" she asked. He didn't answer and she reluctantly moved closer to see if he was all right. If he smelled like that bitch Detective White, so help her, she didn't know if she would be able to keep from punching him out. But he didn't smell like sweet perfume or sex. He smelled like alcohol. The sharp scent of it clinging to his skin and breath genuinely shocked her. This explained his bright eyes and lack of gross motor control. "You're drunk," Scully said, feeling disgusted and still angry. Not 'he's been with Det. White' angry. More of a 'how dare he come to my room drunk' angry. At the same time, he smelled good in an odd way. She could almost taste the alcohol she smelled clinging to his lips. Her stomach turned over. She wanted to kiss him. But she wasn't going to. "Not really," he told her softly and she realized it was true. Even drinking Everclear, he hadn't had enough time to get well and truly smashed. "I got us a rental car." "The place was open?" she cried and he nodded easily. "You drove it back here?" Mulder shook his head. "Left it there. I'm in no shape for driving." You could say that again, thought Scully. He went on, "So I thought I could just crash here tonight..." "Not here," Scully informed him. "We can get you another room." She reached for the phone, backing away from him as she found she was suddenly uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her. The phone didn't work. She clicked the button several times, but never got a dial tone. "We can just go down to the office and -" She was now backing towards the door, uncertain as to why she was unwilling to turn her back on Mulder at this moment. He wasn't a wild animal. He wouldn't jump her. Would he? Would she really protest if he did? "They're gone," he told her. "They can't be," she insisted, running her fingers through her rumpled hair to try to restore it to order. Why was he looking at her like that? "Turned on the no vacancy sign and went to bed themselves," Mulder offered. "I'll go and wake them up -" Her hand closed over the knob. "Don't," said Mulder. His voice was like velvet, sliding over her. Mulder saw her eyes widen and realized he was scaring her. He didn't want to scare her. The alcohol was making his thoughts fuzzy. That had been the idea, but now he didn't like the out of control feel it brought. "I messed everything up," he said, shaking his head, realizing what he had done. He would have had a better chance at her sober. He was only just now beginning to realize that he really did want her, and not just as a trophy or a notch on the bedpost, either. But it was too late... "Mulder -" she tried to - what? soothe him? - she didn't know. This sudden change in him startled her. She didn't feel so wary any more, didn't feel as though she'd been accidentally caged with the panther. He was drawing her in now, and she couldn't resist. Now that she couldn't see the deadly claws or the predatory gleam in his eyes, that glossy coat was too luxurious not to touch. "It's always been too late," he murmured, continuing in his own world of thought. "Messed everything up years ago." "Mulder, what are you talking about?" she asked him. He went on looking at the floor or somewhere in that vicinity. "Mulder, look at me." She hesitated a moment before she could make herself touch him. Her heart was still beating too quickly with the awareness of him. She nudged his head up with her hand so his eyes met hers. "What's going on here?" "A syzygy," he told her. "A what?" "An aligning of astral bodies, affecting relationships and the way people feel. It was what made Margi and Terri have those weird powers and want to kill all their friends," Mulder explained. "Mulder, a bad horoscope can't make anyone a murderer. Not even them." "How else do you explain it?" he asked her. "I don't," she said matter of factly. But seeing the disappointed look on his face, she recanted. "Mulder, there were a lot of odd things about those girls. I think they were confused by growing up and by their own sexuality. They had been such good friends for such a long time that they were beginning to feel other things for each other that they didn't know how to handle. Things that society tells them are wrong." "You think Terri and Margi *liked* each other?" Mulder was amazed. A couple of planets fall into line and suddenly teenage girls wanted to get it on so much, they'd even consider other girls? Maybe Scully was taking this syzygy thing a little too far. He shifted on the bed, his jeans uncomfortably tight. Then again, maybe she wasn't. "I think that there were some tendencies toward developing bisexual feelings, yes," Scully agreed. "And I thought I was the shrink," Mulder said. Scully dared to meet his eyes, seeking one of their conspiractorial glances, but she had to look away because the look in Mulder's eyes went all intense again. "You ever just get the feeling you want to do something crazy?" he asked her. "Crazy like what?" she asked back. "Crazy like I don't know. Something you know you shouldn't do, because it's wrong, but it would feel so good when you're doing it." God, he had a sexy voice, she thought, mesmerized by it. "You mean like rob a bank," she whispered. "Something like that." "Maybe. Something bad. Something...forbidden," Mulder's voice was like a caress and Scully was starting to think she'd forgotten how to breathe. She wanted to take another step back, but she was frozen in place. "Something people would come after you for doing. But something you really want to do." "Like Terri and Margi killing the other students they hated. They had to have known it was wrong, but they couldn't help themselves," Scully offered. He wished she would stop relating everything to the case. If he never had to think about those two uptight, confused, rebellious virginal bad girl wannabe teases, he would be happy. Mulder looked at Scully. He had to be a lot more drunk that he'd realized, he thought, because suddenly that description of the teenage girls seemed to apply equally to his lovely partner who was kneeling in front of him. She wasn't a virgin, of course. And she wasn't really rebellious or confused. That had just been the syzygy. And she didn't mean to tease. Scully wasn't that kind of girl; he couldn't imagine her ever being that kind of girl. She just didn't know how those smiles could affect him sometimes. Or those brief touches to make sure he was all right. She was completely unaware of her charm. And that was what made her so damn charming. "Do you think that can really happen, Scully?" he asked her. "What?" He'd lost her somewhere. "That after a period of close friendship, those feelings can begin to change. That someone who you depend upon as a friend can suddenly become an incredibly sexual being in your mind, to the point where you don't know how you should act around that person?" "You mean what I was saying about -" If she said 'Terri and Margi' and referred back to the case one more time, he was going to have to do something drastic. Like grab her and throw her on the bed and kiss her to shut her up. "Yeah," he interrupted to keep her from doing it. He didn't trust himself. "Sure, Mulder," she agreed with him. "That sort of thing happens all the time. You get a flicker in your mind, a touch of 'what if?' but you never act on it. Human beings yearn for closeness. If you're not getting that from a lover, your first instinct is to seek it out elsewhere. Even if it's not an appropriate outlet." "You think that's all it is?" She nodded mildly. "I don't think you're understanding me, Scully," he said in a low voice that made her suddenly need to take a deep breath. "What am I not understanding?" she asked him hesitantly. "We've been fighting with each other because we're attracted to each other and we don't know how to deal with it. There's no outlet in our partnership for those kinds of feelings," Mulder told her. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that what that 'snapping on the latex' gibe was all about?" "You have to admit you were jealous of Detective White." "Well, what was I supposed to think, Mulder!" Scully cried. "You're making goo-goo eyes at her, you ditched me to run off with her, you put me down for not wearing the right kind of perfume right after last week when you said that I smelled bad and then..." Those couldn't be tears gathering her eyes, she wouldn't let them be. "I saw the two of you together, Mulder." "What's wrong with that?" There was that low, silky voice again. The one that turned the lower half of her body inside out. "I was jealous, okay?" Scully snapped. His hand stroked down the side of her face. Her usually blue eyes had gone an almost emerald green in the late night light. "Hey, jealousy," he said to her with a smile. His own private green-eyed monster. She tried to turn away from him, but he wouldn't let her. "You can trust me," he told her softly. A seductive promise. His fingers were slowly and ever so gently stroking her jaw in his hand, drawing her into his spell. He watched her eyes. "I know I always do things that you hate and you don't agree with anything I say. But don't expect too much from me and you might not be let down. Accept me, Scully." "I do," she whispered. The pounding of her heart and the harshness of her breath told her to run. But she too completely under this spell he was weaving. It was much too late now. "It's my instinct to push you away, Scully, that's how much I want to be with you. I know it's messed up," his voice had grown very soft and very rough, "but when I'm with you, I feel like I matter. And then you turn it around and I know I'm less than nothing or tonight I might be here with you." "You are here with me." "I mean *with* you, Scully. Like I should have been that very first night when you came and put yourself in my arms because you trusted me. Instead of acting on what I wanted to do - what I think you wanted me to do or you never would have come to my room in the middle of the night in your robe because you have more sense than that - I took your trust. I had to tell you all of the reasons why you shouldn't want me. And you listened." She was giving him a sad look. He felt drunk. Drunk, and tired, and aroused. This was doing no good. He didn't know if he was trying to convince her to sleep with him, or if he was just talking. He didn't know what he would do if she suddenly decided she wanted to sleep with him. It was such a remote possibility. He'd take a cold shower, sleep it off. Hope the stars felt relief by morning. "I'm sorry," Mulder said, taking his hand from her face and physically withdrawing from her. "I didn't mean to say all that." "I'm glad you did," she told him. He was restless again, like he was about to get up and leave her. "I'll go and wake management...get myself a room. I'm sorry I bothered you." He tried to rise, but Scully got to her feet first and put her hands on his shoulders, holding him in his position on the bed. "I don't think you're hearing me, Mulder." End of part two. comments to eponine119@att.net _____________________ Hey Jealousy part 2 by eponine119 eponine119@att.net _____________________ Finally he looked at her. His eyes met hers, wide, when he realized what she was saying. "I was jealous. I admit it. I was jealous because I wanted you," Scully told him. It seemed odd to her to actually be saying the words. "And you were so mean and so spiteful, I figured I was in your way. That was why you keep ditching me. But I...guess I was wrong." "Scully, I'm so -" He still couldn't say that word. "I didn't know what to do." "Given that beautiful confession of love, I think I can forgive you," she said and Mulder suddenly looked uncomfortable. "What?" she asked. "Did I hear you wrong? It wasn't a confession of love?" "I don't think in those terms," he told her honestly. "So what terms are you thinking in?" Scully demanded unable to keep the anger and hurt from rising in her again. "Fucking? That's all you were talking about? You're angry at yourself because you didn't bang me when you got the chance?" He'd never heard Scully use words like that before. He'd barely imagined that she knew them. "Scully -" he tried to get her attention. "The mystery of the horny beast?" she scoffed. "That's not it," he told her. "Well, I'm scared too," she informed him. Her fingers closed over the lapels of his jacket and she lowered her soft mouth to cover his. He let her kiss him, let her take the lead. Her lips worked against his and then she pulled away. "That didn't feel scared to me," Mulder said. He knew it was the wrong thing to say, but it was too late to stop it. Scully gave a soft, derisive laugh. "That was terrified, Mulder," she told him. "You didn't kiss me back." "I didn't want to scare you." They could both feel the unleashed power and roughness flowing just barely beneath his surface tonight. He strained to reign it in, to will himself to sobriety. Scully wanted to feel it. "Scare me," she suggested, kissing him again. This time he did kiss her back, opening his mouth beneath hers and taking control of the kiss. His tongue began to explore inside her mouth as his arms closed tight around her. He slid down from where he was sitting on the bed and managed somehow to pull her up over him, so her legs were around him as she straddled his lap. She gasped when the kiss finally broke, and clung to him. Mulder liked it. He liked the dark look of passion in her eyes. His hands forced her body closer as he kissed her again. He felt her moving against him - in protest? it didn't register. Her hands against his chest felt good. She pushed him and turned her head away. He just looked at her, surprised. "God, Mulder, I can't breathe," she informed him. "Good," he said with a funny smile to match the odd ache in his chest. Love? There was no room for that now. "Not good," she told him. He watched her, his eyes tracking the shallow rise and fall of her chest as it began to even out. "Better?" he asked. "Maybe we should take this up onto the bed," she suggested, disentangling her limbs from his delicately and getting to her feet. But she held his hand and he could almost see the longing in her eyes. Mulder felt dizzy for a second when he stood. The alcohol...the syzygy...they shouldn't be doing this. Scully shot him a look that made him think she was having similar doubts. He pushed her down onto the bed before she could protest. Her eyes latched onto his as she tried to embrace him, but he wouldn't let her. No gentleness, not between them tonight. She'd already brought up the word "love." He couldn't let her get the wrong idea. He pinned her wrists to the bed. "Mulder," she strained against him, but there was something in that sigh...something hot...she liked this? "Tell me what you like," he told her. He could feel this situation spiralling far, far out of his control and it scared him. He was scared he was going to hurt her. He was scared he was going to do something irreversible. Something that would make her hate him forever. Something she would regret. Because he wanted to do it all. "I like this," she whispered to him, blinking up at him. She could see the flicker of his worry that he was somehow forcing her to do something she didn't want to. He ought to know by now that no one can make me do anything I don't want to, she thought. For all it may seem I'm reluctantly following his lead, I make my own decisions. He released her wrists and moved away from her. "Mulder?" she sat up, alarmed. "I'm pushing you. I feel like -" he broke off and she made a soft sound of encouragement for him to continue. "I feel like I'm forcing you." The booze was wearing off, or kissing her was clearing his head. He couldn't do this. "You're not." "I *feel* like I am though." He sounded as though he were mired in the depths of despair. "Then go with it," Scully suggested. "Enjoy it." "I don't want to..." he stopped. "Don't want to what?" "Hurt you, I don't want to hurt you." "Mulder, you can't hurt me." "Want to bet?" he laughed contemptuously at himself. Hurting her was all he could think of doing right now. The images, the urges, were ready to overpower his will and control him. His head was too mixed up and muzzy to be in anyone's bed, especially hers. Too bad his body didn't care. "Want to try?" she challenged. She reached over and touched his shoulder and he jumped. "Mulder, if you do something I don't like, you'll know. I'll let you know. Because I can talk and I can move and I can make my own decisions. I don't need you to protect me, Mulder, because I can do it myself. Even from you. What you don't ever seem to realize is that I'm here because I want to be here. With you. Okay?" Mulder nodded, looking at her hungrily. She kissed him and he pressed her down on the bed. He didn't take her wrists this time, just yanked her silk T-shirt off quickly over her head. She let him and began unfastening the buttons on his shirt. His tie was already loosened and she tossed it aside. He rubbed his face against her breasts, still covered by the push-up bra she was wearing. It was torture and she wished he'd take the damn thing off of her. So she unzipped his trousers and helped herself, trying to torture him in at least the same way. Mulder groaned. Twice. It made her breath catch. He clumsily pulled at her bra, managing to yank it down around her waist. "That's not how you do it," she scolded him gently. He looked at her as though he didn't understand English anymore. She took his hands in hers and pulled them around to her back to unfasten the hooks. "That's how you do it," she said. "My first lesson," a quip spoken intensely, taking one of her breasts into his mouth and sucking on it gently. And then a little harder. She could feel the working of his mouth all the way down her body, the sensations traveling pathways she hadn't known existed. She pulled down his trousers and his boxers so he was naked above her. When she tried to touch him, he pulled her hands away quickly and held them. But he had to let go in order to unfasten her pants for her. Every time he released her hands, she touched him. And every time, he grabbed her hands with a moan that grew in intensity and frustration. He was fighting a losing battle. She cringed when she heard the fabric rip but a moment later, she didn't care. Mulder had the most amazing mouth. When he released her arms to put his own hands on her thighs, to position them where he wanted them for better access to her, all she could do was whimper and thread her fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth closer to her. His tongue lashed over her most sensitive skin in agonizingly slow waves. She could feel the contractions beginning in her belly, each of them like a delicate shiver, each a little more intense than the one before. If she didn't come, she was going to die. Given what he was doing to her, she was probably going to die when she came. His hands kneaded the sensitive skin on her inner thighs and slid up, rhythmically, countering the sweet hell he was putting her through. Her hips began to move against his mouth and he gave her teasingly little of what she wanted. His teeth skimmed against her and it set her off. When she opened her eyes, she could still feel neurons firing excitedly. Mulder's fingers were splayed across her belly, their warm presence arousing her. "Now," she told him urgently. "Greedy," he teased her. His eyes were those of a starving man confronted with Thanksgiving dinner and he was calling her greedy. She loved those eyes, looking just like that. She loved the feeling it gave her in her stomach, like the moment you touched the iron and realized it was hot, but before you could think to pull away, and just remained. Burning. She didn't once look away as her fingers wrapped around him. Slowly her fist moved upward and he lost the staring contest. His eyes sank closed like a happy cat's and he sighed, a long, delicious sound. She bent forward, sitting up, ready to do for him what he'd just done for her, but he shoved her back down on the bed. The harsh movement took her by surprise. His eyes were full of fire when he looked down at her. He forced her thighs apart with his between them. She began to raise her hips to meet him, but one hand pressed her against the bed. Keeping her still as he thrust deep into her. She cried out and he groaned. He waited, filling her, and his lips touched her neck. She turned her head, straining to meet his lips in a lover's kiss, but he was gone again. Pulling out of her body. And then he was back, harder and deeper. He let her put her legs around his waist and meet his thrusts. Both of them were moving against each other like animals. There was something primal between them, something unrefined in the grunts and cries that mingled. It had always been a struggle of two strong wills between them. Nothing changed that now. Mulder let out a jagged scream as he shattered. Scully came a moment later, not as strongly as she had before. There was no loss of reality for her this time. But there had been for Mulder. It was long time before his eyes opened or before she noticed his breathing slowing back to normal. She stroked his back and waited for him. "That was amazing," he told her. "Yeah," she said roughly. She felt shaky again, like she'd just had another car wreck. "Are you okay?" he asked her, instantly concerned. She nodded. "I didn't hurt you?" She shook her head. And it must have convinced him because he sighed against her shoulder, "I want to do that again." "Give me a minute first, all right?" Scully asked, trying to sound coy or cool. But all she sounded was vulnerable. "Scully, I'm sorry." It was the most heartbreaking apology she'd ever heard. Because it was completely uncalled for, and completely heartfelt. No more booze, no more danger. Mulder was back to himself. Guilty. "No," she told him. "You're not sorry. I'm not sorry." "You're trembling." He wrapped his arms around her tight, just as she wanted to be held. His skin felt like an inferno next to her. "I can't help it, Mulder, I feel like...that was..." There were no words. "I feel like two different people," she tried to explain. She could feel his breath on her neck and allowed it to distract her. "The one I've been here and the one I am usually. And I don't know which one I want to leave behind. I feel like I've been possessed and I liked it and I don't want to go back to sanity." Mulder didn't say anything. She didn't think he understood. There was something hurt in his silence. "I'm afraid, Mulder. That these changes are temporary. That once this night is over, we'll be partners again and not lovers." "That's what you want?" She didn't understand the question. He hadn't understood her answers. "I need you, Mulder. And I'm afraid I'll never really have you." "This has been a mistake," he told her. "Mulder, no." "Don't fall in love with me," he cautioned her. "Trust yourself." "It's too late," she told him. "I'm dangerous, Scully. I'm bad. I lose people. I lost you once. I lost her. I lose everyone. I hurt people. I hurt myself. I've hurt you a thousand times just this weekend with casual words. I don't want to break your heart -" "Aren't you trying to say you don't want me to break yours? I promise you I won't go away again, Mulder." "You can't promise that." "You're right," she sighed. "But people die, people go away, things end. You can't live in fear of that." "I won't." "Because you won't let me love you. You won't let yourself love me." She couldn't help the anger and couldn't stave it off. Mulder was being such an idiot. "Exactly." Scully sat up and got out of bed. She was cold without him touching her, but she ignored it. This was over. It never should have begun. She still felt shaky and uncontrolled, as though her mind and her body had been loosened by what they had done. "Fine," she cried. "Fine. Be a coward. A stupid, lonely, terrified coward. I hate you, Fox William Mulder, for touching me like that when you aren't man enough to follow through on it!" Furiously, she began to put on her clothes that had become scattered. She left the shirt out to cover the tears in the pants. She grabbed the keys to the car Mulder had rented and stormed out the door. "I love you, Scully," Mulder said weakly, but it was too little. Too late. The door had already slammed between them. After another moment lying there, he got out of bed and dressed. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Scully sitting in the hallway on the other side of it. "What did you say?" she asked in a hollow voice. "Nothing," he lied. "That's what I thought." With their everyday personas wrapped more firmly about them, they headed out of Comity. Never intending to look back on where that dark road had taken them. But they knew now that they were both vulnerable. To each other. There were cracks in the armor now. Perhaps they had always been there, but they had been more smoothly polished and better hidden. It only took the widening of one hairline fracture to split the entire armor. It would only be a matter of time. the end. 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