From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 16 Jul 2007 17:22:01 -0000 Subject: NEW - Inextricable by Michelle Kiefer by michelle kiefer Source: direct Reply To: msk1024@yahoo.com Title: Inextricable Author: msk Email: msk1024@yahoo.com Rating: R Keyword: M/S, M/Fowley, Angst Spoilers: The Beginning, Drive Notes: This is the first in a series of stories. Some readers may prefer to wait until the entire series is posted. "Oh, the usual. Destiny, fate, how to throw a curve ball. The inextricable relationships in our lives that are neither accidental nor somehow in our control, either." Fox Mulder, The Red and the Black. "And to the best of your recollection, did Mr. Arbogast ever submit anyone else's work as his own when you were both at Ohio State University?" Dana Scully fought back a yawn as she listened to the overgrown frat boy vow his old college buddy was as honest as a boy scout, as sober as a judge and as American as apple pie. She thanked him and hung up the phone. The notes she jotted down on the evaluation form reflected her skepticism over Mr. Arbogast's straight and narrow college years. Scully consulted her watch, shaking her head slightly. Background checks made each day feel like an eternity. It was four in the afternoon, and quitting time felt like it was a mirage on the horizon. They'd been on background checks for two weeks now, since the whole disastrous Crump affair. Disastrous and personally expensive. Scully was still paying off the debt they'd incurred by going AWOL on their case. At least they'd been able to get out into the field when they worked domestic terrorism. Scully thought back, remembering how she and Mulder had seemed back in step for a short while. Of course, she'd allowed him to pull her into the Crump case. She'd been out of her comfort level, on a wild ride on the Mulder roller coaster. She'd realized then how much she'd missed the adrenaline rush of working with Mulder, breaking the rules, jumping the ditches in an out-of-control ride. Her mind slamming back into the present, Scully swiveled her chair around and sighed. Her partner's desk was unattended, as it seemed to be more and more these days. The work bored him, that much was clear. He was restless, an animal in a cage and he gave her flimsy excuses about why he had to be anywhere other than the bullpen. He'd announce that he "had to see a man about a horse" and leave for so long Scully was afraid he'd actually gone to Kentucky looking for a horse stable. He offered to hand deliver their reports, telling her that the interoffice mail system had been slow lately. When he was there, he wasn't really there, either. If he was at his desk, he was hunkered down, his voice a low murmur as he spoke into the phone. Mulder seemed to barely register her existence most of the time. Scully knew the loss of the X-Files weighed heavy on him. She remembered how broken he'd been the first time they'd been taken away. This time was worse, somehow. Mulder wasn't just broken this time--he was bitter and angry and not just at the powers that be. He blamed her. She had failed Mulder, and though he wouldn't put voice to it, she knew he couldn't look at her without remembering that. In spite of their brief moment back on the same page in Idaho, the rock solid relationship that she'd always taken comfort in now bore stress fractures. And Diana Fowley had neatly inserted herself into the fissure between the partners. She remembered the first time she'd ever seen Diana at a briefing for the Gibson Praise case. The woman had thrown her support at Mulder and he turned to her like a plant turns to sunlight. Scully disliked her on a cellular level. Whenever she was in Diana's presence, the hair at the back of Scully's neck prickled, as if a thunderstorm was on the horizon. Scully had tried to raise questions about the timing of Fowley's reappearance, but Mulder, the most paranoid of men, saw no correlation. And no red flags obviously. Scully hadn't asked where he spent so much time, not that he probably would have opened up to her. But she was pretty damn sure who he was with. Agent Fowley had the thing he wanted more than anything else in life--the X-Files. And Scully was the person who'd cost him that prize. A year ago, at the height of a crisis of faith that had rocked his world, Mulder had talked about inextricable relationships that were beyond their control. His voice that night had been contemplative, almost wistful, and she had wondered how he felt about their relationship. It was pretty clear to her now that he regretted his ties to her. Scully turned back to her desk and typed up her notes on the Arbogast interviews. The fraternity brother was the last of several contacts she'd spoken to about the ATF hopeful. If prior experience was a plus, Mr. Arbogast had alcohol and tobacco in his favor. It was past quitting time before Scully slipped the last sheet of paper into Arbogast's file folder. There was no sign of Mulder. His suit jacket was gone. She remembered seeing it draped over the back of his chair earlier in the day. Mulder must have come back and packed up when she was away from her desk. Well, she wasn't going to wait around for him. Scully shut down her computer and locked up her desk. As she shrugged into her coat and gathered her bag, she glanced around the nearly deserted bull pen. She couldn't remember when she'd felt so alone. Isolation hadn't been her choice, not really. It was a nasty side effect of life on the X-Files, where the answer to "how was your day?" was never fit for mixed company. At the end of the day, the only person she could really talk to was Mulder. And at the end of this day, he was nowhere to be found. She passed a few agents as she walked to the parking garage. The Hoover Building quieted down in the evenings, but it was never empty. Her heels echoed down the hall. The lights were too bright in the elevator and when she stepped out onto her floor; it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. As the doors closed behind her, Scully heard a woman's laughter, low and throaty. She found the source--Diana Fowley--standing by a large luxury car halfway down the length of the parking area. She was talking to a man whose back was to Scully. She didn't need to see the man's face to know it was Mulder. His lanky grace was imprinted on Scully's brain. His hands were thrust into his slacks pockets and he cocked his head to one side as he listened to whatever Diana was saying. Scully moved into the shadows, her discomfort level rising at the cozy scene before her. She didn't think she could bear the embarrassment if they were to notice her watching them. She prayed they wouldn't drag their little chat out forever. Mulder reached out to open the car door. A bitter little smile crossed Scully's face; no matter what, Mulder was a gentleman. Diana stepped forward and slid her arms around his neck. Scully wanted to turn away, but her gaze was locked on the two people by the car. Later, Scully would try to decide who initiated the kiss. Maybe it really didn't matter. Her heart felt as if a giant fist were squeezing it as she watched them kiss for several long moments. Finally, they broke apart and got into the car, Diana in the driver's seat. The car roared to life, and after a few minutes, they drove off. As Scully watched the receding red tail lights, she felt as if her legs would buckle beneath her, leaving her in a heap on the parking garage floor. Her breath sounded ragged in her throat as she walked to her car. Scully collapsed onto the front seat. The feeling of deja vu was overpowering as she recalled the night, months ago, when she'd first seen Mulder with Diana Fowley. She'd called him from her car that night and pulled him away. She remembered feeling like a silly schoolgirl that night, as if she was vying for the attention of the captain of the basketball team. So much had happened since that night. A lifetime had been lived in those months. The office had been burned, Diana had nearly died of a gunshot wound and a little boy had vanished. And that was all before Dallas and events of that summer. Scully remembered standing in the hall outside Mulder's apartment hearing the words she so needed him to say--that she was valued, integral to his life. And then he had moved forward and she knew he was going to kiss her. The time before and after that moment had taken on a blurred, sketchy quality that Scully ascribed to the trauma she suffered from the virus and from exposure to the extreme cold of the Antarctica. But the scene in the hall remained in sharp focus and she remembered every sensation, every movement, every emotion. She remembered the look in Mulder's eyes, the deep yearning and need, the way his hands felt against her face. He was going to kiss her--she felt it with every beat of her heart and in that very moment, she knew she wanted it, wanted him. They'd have made love that afternoon if she hadn't collapsed. She knew that with a certainty she rarely felt in her life with Mulder. In that moment, she understood something she had only been aware of on a subconscious level before--that Mulder was the only one she could ever love completely. Her mother used to sing an old song about "his is the only music that makes me dance" and that was Mulder. The only one whose music made her dance. So where did this leave her, she wondered, wiping away a tear that trailed down her cheek. What do you do when the only person you could love has obviously decided that you're not the one he wants and moves on? She should be angry. She probably would be tomorrow, but right now, tonight, all Scully could feel was numb loss, as if someone or something precious to her had died. She turned the ignition, put the car into gear and aimed the car in the general direction of home. Continued in "Draw The Line." Author's Note: This series is the result of 3 or 4 plot bunnies that were stuck in my head. None of them would support a whole story, so I built a four story rabbit hutch for the bunnies. I hope you enjoy the stories. They're complete, but in various stages of editing. I hope to post a couple a week. Thank you to the marvelous and wonderful Kel for beta.