Date: Sun, 22 FEB 1998 19:51:06 -0800 From: Phetsy Calderon Subject: NEW "No Explanation Needed" TITLE: No Explanation Needed AUTHOR: Phetsy Calderon RATING: PG CATEGORY: V CLASSIFICATION: S KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST, Mulder angst. SPOILERS: Definite spoilers for Small Potatoes, Season 4. In fact, don't even read the Summary or you'll hit an SP spoiler. FEEDBACK: Ee-yew, no! Not *feedback,* oh no! Oh, please, *please* don't throw me in that briar patch. You kiddin'? I'd love it!--especially at my eMail addy, . SUMMARY: Scully had a few more words for Mulder after their exchange in the prison hallway after Mulder talked to Tail Boy. DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and the X-Files are property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions, and Fox. Reusing any of this without my express permission is a violation of federal law, 17 U.S.C. I give permission to repost, entire, to the web and FTP sites resident on any publicly accessible, no-fee server, provided that the following conditions are met: 1. This notice in its entirety, and the author's name, remain attached to the work. 2. I am notified by e-mail that such posting has been made. The Gossamer Project X-Files fanfic archives are expressly excepted from condition 2 above. No other use is legitimate without my express permission. ANY use for profit, however meager, violates Chris Carter's copyright and my copyright. NO EXPLANATION NEEDED by Phetsy Calderon There was nothing else to do but join Scully and walk back to the car. 'I don't imagine you need to be told this, Mulder, but you're not a loser.' //So why can't you look at me when you say that, Scully?// But he didn't say what he was thinking, just let the silence gap between them. "Yeah, but I'm no Eddie van Blundht, either, am I?," he asked her, with his hands twisting together, eyes lowered. //Thinking Eddie was a lot smoother than the genuine article, Scully? I guess real world experience counts more than *videos,* huh?// She offered him no answer at all. =3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D The silence held until they reached the parking lot. Mulder, withdrawn into his own thoughts, found himself practically plowing into her back. He leant back and almost overbalanced as she she whirled and fixed him with the twin high-power sapphire lasers. "And thank Goodness you're not, Mulder." "What?" "You're not weaselly, you're not unimaginative, you're not a pathetic little dweeb who has to hide behind someone else's face to get a little ass. . ." "Scully?!" Mulder was occasionally jarringly reminded that his partner was part of a large Navy family. ". . .you have a quick sense of humor, you know better than to buy me mediocre red wine-- "Well, to be fair, Scully, Stony Ridge Merlot ain't too shabby." //She should've noticed that,// he thought. // Maybe Eddie had her more distracted than--than I want to know.// "Don't interrupt me, Mulder, I'm not finished. You're loyal, and imaginative, and damned good at what you do--" "Even if I can't prove any of it to your satisfaction," he interjected. He would've said more, but one shot from her eyes dissuaded him. "You have almost no male ego--" "Gee, thanks Scully. You really know how to make a guy feel like big stuff." "You can hold an intelligent discussion on anything from the Cavalier poets to treatment methods for post-traumatic stress disorder to Jungian archetypes." "And I know important stuff, too, like the Knicks' win-loss record and where to get a good softshell crab on the Maryland shore." "And you have yet to squirm awkwardly all over my sofa just because there's a person of the female persuasion seated on the other end." "Yeah, but I'd happily do some squirming of the enthusiastic sort on your sofa," he muttered under his breath. "The last thing you need to do is explain yourself or your life to some pudgy little janitor who has to masquerade as *anybody* else to achieve anything remotely resembling a love life." "At least he has a love life, Scully." "Yeah, well, your lack thereof puts you in good company, y'know." "That company being. . .?" "At least one forensic pathologist working for the FBI." His grin was full-blown, now. "Couldn't possibly be in any better company. Although if said pathologist ever wants to investigate the extreme possibility of getting a life, of any sort, . . ." "I'll depend on you to keep me from doing anything outrageous " "Scully?" "Mulder?" "Do I get to define outrageous?" A beat. "You always do, Mulder. You always do." =3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D If you'd like to know what they said to each other in the month between the Couch and the Cell, see my other Small Potatoes story, "I Can Explain," on Gossamer, or check out my fanfic page at . Phetsy =3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D Phetsy Calderon phetsy@earthlink.net "I thrive, myself, on all kinds of trouble." --Maeve of Cruachan, in the Toin bo Cuailnge