From: janeway602@aol.com
Date: Sun, 25 Mar 2001 15:38:03 EST
Subject: xfc: NEW - "Paper Walls" by tahlia (1/1)
Source: xfc

Paper Walls
by tahlia

Email: janeway602@aol.com
Feedback: yes!
Archive: yes, just let me know
Rating: R (i seem to love the f-word)
Spoilers: post-One Son/pre-Milagro, all things
Summary: Voyeurism isn't always good for characterization.

Disclaimer: they are not mine. period.

you're a writer. anything i'd know?
- i don't think so.

you're an fbi agent. working on anything interesting?
- a murder case.
anything i'd know?
- possibly.

++++++

Paper walls. The landlord had neglected to mention the
fact that this apartment was constructed of paper walls.

He'd spent a good deal of time explaining the
circumstances under which the previous tenant had
left - no, stormed out was the correct term from what I
assessed from the landlord.

"Not everyone enjoys Agent Mulder's presence in this
building."

I snort to myself now at the comment. Apparently, only
his previous landlord held the occupancy of an FBI agent
as a godsend.

"What do you mean?" I'd asked, feigning ignorance.

He'd shrugged. "His partner collapsed in the hallway last
summer. The EMTs woke the neighbors up." I had silently
thanked the stars that Agent Scully was all right. "And two
years ago a man was shot. Managed to get his blood all
over the hallway before expiring in Agent Mulder's
doorway. And then this latest incident."

"You mean the quarantining procedure?"

"More like a pain in the ass." The landlord had a habit of
shrugging a lot, I had noticed, and made a mental note
about the man. "Anyway, that's what drove the last tenant
over the edge."

In the end, after he went on for what seemed like hours
about how sorry he was over the condition of the place, I
decided on small, dingy Apartment 44.

It was a week later that I discovered what the landlord
had forgotten about - paper walls.

++++++

- what would her partner think of her?

++++++

I could just stand here in front of the wall and listen;
the sound is practically crystal clear without an ounce of
exertion. Yet, somehow, I find myself standing atop a
chair, my ear pressed to the vent I share with the
apartment beside me. Tonight I have my own agenda, but they
are fighting loud enough to invite my strayed attention.

I hear his voice punctuate the air I imagine tense between
them.

"There is no evidence to support those accusations!"

I can see her standing in front of him, I imagine her arms
are folded defiantly across her chest, a position she
associates with comfort in such a situation as this.

"Then explain to me why her body wasn't among the remains
at the air base. Explain that to me, Mulder."

Mulder. The name runs through my head with familiarity and
with a touch of resentment.

"I can't."

"You can't...or you won't?"

A feeling inside of me says they've had this argument before.
Their lack of description beyond a 'she' means I've caught
the tail end of this disagreement.

"What are you getting at, Scully?" he asks, although I
suspects he knows exactly she's getting at.

"I'm saying her loyalties are elsewhere, Mulder," she
replies.

I imagine him pacing.

"What if she's just trying to help?"

"What if she's not?"

Touche, Agent Scully. I smile to myself.

I must admit that as much as the disagreement between two
individuals is a horrible thing, it is really quite an
interesting thing to watch - or, in my case, listen to.
The things we say in the heat of the moment, it is
sometimes the only place where we truly feel safe enough
to bear the truth to the other. For once, we abandon our
rational grasp on the consequences and let our emotions
(most specifically: anger) do the talking.

"You're avoiding the question, Scully."

"You've avoiding the *point*!" she counters.

I can see him gesture to the air around him. "And that
would be...?"

"That she's manipulating you, Mulder, and you're too blind
to see it!" I must shudder at the tone of voice I hear
from Agent Scully. It's...frantic...angered...

Maybe even desperate.

His voice is anything but comforting, I imagine, for her.
"I know her, Scully."

"Maybe you thought you did, Mulder, but not anymore.
You're blind to her."

"No, Scully, I know her, and I know she would never take
advantage of the trust I hold in her."

++++++

i have to admit to a secret attraction.
(she rolls her eyes, not wanting to think about it.)
i'm sorry i didn't include a note explaining that, but you
didn't know me then.
- yeah, and i don't know you now, and i don't care to.
(her words stung him.)

++++++

She wanted to laugh. Or cry. She wasn't sure which.

"Jesus, Scully, you're not *jealous*, are you?"

Now she wanted to scream. Or slap him. Maybe both.

"How dare you-" she began, but for only a moment. His
mouth was already open, eager to seize the one weakness
she'd been a fool to reveal.

"No, no. Now I'm beginning to see it." Her face stoned
over as she prepared herself for his words. "You *envy*
her."

She stared at him, hard, afraid her anger would boil over
and she would say, or do, something she would regret
forever. She realized the volatility of this situation,
and couldn't bring herself to do anything. Not when
something so fragile as their weakening partnership hung
in the balance.

Things had not been peachy before everything started. And
when it seemed to turn for the worse, she *had* to walk back
into the picture, and tip it in a direction downward.
Scully had realized how often she had done that, how good
she was at making particularly bad situations even worse
when it seemed to fit her needs.

So instead off provoking him, she was walking away. It was
the safest avenue of escape she could think of.

"I'm leaving," she declared, turning her back on him.

She was only half surprised when his palm wrapped around
her arm, holding her back.

"No, no, Scully. I want you to answer me."

Fuck, Mulder, didn't he see where this was going?

"Fine. You want the truth?" Her mouth spit the word out,
'truth,' like a bad tasting vegetable.

"Of course," he obliged, lessening the grip on her arm.

She wriggled from his hand. "You're right, Mulder, I do
envy her." She wasn't surprised to see the brief flash of
shock. "I envy her because somehow you seem to believe any
half-assed lie that comes out of her mouth, yet somehow
you refuse to believe anything your partner tries to tell
you."

There, it was out there. Her eyes darted from Mulder to
the leather couch beside her. Are you happy, Mulder? How
about we watch what's left of our partnership break into
hundreds of tiny pieces and wash them one by one down the
drain? Wouldn't that be fun?

The damage was done, and the silence between them was
unbearable.

"I'm leaving now," she declared again, this time making it
successfully around.

"Scully, wait-"

She kept walking, her eyes fixed on a small stain on his
door. "What, Mulder? Are you going to beg for my
forgiveness?" She didn't care how sarcastic she sounded.
She just needed to get out.

"Scully."

This time it was a statement, a single word that summed up
so much. She heard his footsteps behind her, approaching
her, and yet she wouldn't give him the pleasure of
stopping and facing him.

"Save it, Mulder. Save it for someone who cares."

Fuck.

That time even the harsh words stung her. She regretted it
now but, fuck, she couldn't take it back. She felt herself
choking up almost immediately, but she tried her hardest
to keep it down. Right now, all that mattered was getting
out, getting out in the hallway. She'd worry about
emotions and tears later.

She was two, maybe three feet from the door. She could
taste freedom.

And suddenly he was in front of her, his body blocking her
only exit out. "Jesus Christ, Scully," he hissed.

"Mulder, move." She moved for the exposed doorknob, but he
was quicker than she, blocking her attempt.

"You don't think I trust you?"

"Get out of the way, Mulder," she demanded.

He was looking her straight in the eye now. "Answer my
question!" His voice was angry, angrier than before, and
Scully shuddered at its tone.

"Get out of my way!"

This had transcended a simple argument; they were now
fully engaged in a screaming match. She wondered if the
neighbors would mind them screaming at each other.

"Scully," Mulder finally said, softer this time yet still
forceful, "you can't run away this time. I'm not going to
let you."

This time. Fuck you, Mulder.

"I don't want to talk about this now..." she managed,
trying again for the doorknob. No success, again.

"Then we're going to stand here until you do."

She shook her head as she averted her eyes for a moment.
Stubborn. Stubborn bastard.

"Why is it so hard for you to believe, Mulder?" she
finally said, her voice a near whisper. She wasn't sure if
he had even heard her, and she didn't care if he hadn't.

He had heard. "That I don't trust you?"

Her eyes flew back up, her face the epitome of anger. "You
know *exactly* what I'm talking about."

She recognized the mind games he was playing with her.
Trying to turn it back to her, deflecting his anger onto
her.

Maybe where it rightfully belonged.

"No, I don't," he replied.

"Jesus, Mulder, cut the crap, will you?" She paused for a
moment before continuing. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Answer a question with another question." She looked down
at her feet again, unable to keep his gaze for much
longer.

He was quick with a counter, not realizing he was falling
into the pattern she had just so diligently pointed out.
"Why do you always run away from situations that you can't
control?"

"We're talking about you here, not me."

"But somehow, we always end up talking about you, too," he
countered again.

The worst part, she thought, was that if he'd revealed her
first weakness, then now she was laid out for all to see.
God, she hated when he was right.

It was the one part of her she resented the most. She
always told herself it was the healthy thing to do, but in
truth, she always ran away.

She'd ran away from Daniel. When everything had threatened
to spin terribly out of control, as they were already
beginning to, she ran away. Away to her mother and father
and sister. Away from medicine and into the comforting
arms of the FBI.

She realized she had never shared that chapter of life
with Mulder. Perhaps because she was ashamed of her
conduct?

She'd ran away from Mulder, too. She had told herself she
was only paying him back for the countless times he'd
ditched her, but this was different. This was permanent.

Suddenly, the moment had grown terribly awkward.

"Mulder, please," she managed in a whisper.

She tried to push herself away from the door, but his
hands were faster than she, grabbing her by the arm. She
tried to wriggle from his grip, but to no avail. In one
swift movement, they had switched positions. Her back was
now up against the hard wood door and he was facing her,
inches from her face, his hand still gripping her arm just
above her elbow.

"How can I prove to you that I trust you?" he asked.

She cocked her head. "You could let go of me," she
offered.

He only smiled a little, and she suddenly felt embarrassed
by his close proximity. "And let you off the hook that
easily? I don't think so."

"Mulder, I know that you trust me," she said. She wondered
if there was real heart behind those words.

"You say that, Scully, but do you actually believe it?"

"Of course I do." She felt herself dancing around the very
subject that threatened to destroy them both.

"Really?" he asked. "Because I'm staring into your eyes
and I'm not sure if I see you believing it."

Her eyes darted to the floor once more as she realized he
had been staring straight at her, studying her. The mere
inches between them prevented him from looking at much
else, she rationalized.

"Why would I say it if I didn't believe it?" she asked,
her eyes remaining fixed on the floor. She tried to ask
herself the same question, but neglected to find an
answer.

She imagined him looking off for a moment before
answering. "Because you think it's what I want to hear?"

"Is it?" She was unsure if she wanted an answer.

She could almost see the wry grin forming on his face.
"Now you're the one deflecting a question, Scully."

"Mulder, I," she faltered, finally bring her eyes up,
afraid she'd see a look of hurt across his face, his own
eyes unwilling to meet her own. But she found him staring
still at her, and his intense gaze startled her for only a
moment. "I trust you," there, she thought relieved, the
words were out, "and I would hope that you mirror that
same trust in me. Because if you don't, then..."

She couldn't finish.

"Then, what?"

Her eyes were studying the floor again, a reaction she was
comfortable with when she herself felt uncomfortable in a
situation. "I don't know, Mulder."

"You don't know?" he replied, repeating her words as if
they were a horrible thing.

"I mean...I don't know what would happen if we didn't
trust each other." Her words were directed at the
floorboards, and she resented that. She resented that she
couldn't even face her own partner in this. Confidence
swelled inside her, and her eyes once again bore into his.
"I don't think I'd want to know."

If he could, he took another step closer to her, finally
letting the firm grip on her arm slip. But she didn't
struggle out of it, the avenue of escape she had once so
desired no longer seemed the right thing.

"Scully," he began, his eyes and voice soft, "you are the
only person I know that I trust as much as I do, and no
one, *no one*, will ever change that, or even measure up
to it."

She was touched, touched beyond anything she had ever felt
before.

"Mulder-" she began, but his free hand cut her off.

"No, no. I'm not done yet." He paused, collecting his
thoughts. "I hope we never reach the day when our trust is
such that we doubt what one another says to the other."
His face pulled closer to hers, the hand gripping her arm
now caressing it lightly. "Scully, God, I have *never*
doubted anything you have ever said. I'm just not...open,
not willing to accept it. Not yet. Is that so hard to
believe?"

No, she admitted to herself. She wanted to scream it
aloud. NO! And yet something inside of her still remained
apprehensive, and she wanted to drag out of her and kick
it until she watched its last breath puff away.

"Mulder, I'm sorry," she finally admitted. Not the exact
words she'd hoped for, but it was close enough. "I'm sorry
for every-"

"Scully." Her name was a statement to him. Both his hands
were now resting firmly on her shoulders.

"What?"

He leaned into her, his lips quietly brushing against the
delicate skin near her ear. His breath was hot as it blew
into her ear, and he hesitated for only a moment before he
spoke to her in a whisper.

"Shut up."

His face came around to stare at her for only a moment,
hardly enough time for her to react. She simply stared at
him, her eyes wide as she contemplated his command. And he
cut that contemplation short.

His lips pressed desperately against hers, the force of
him pushing her further against the door. Her hands came
from whatever position they had been resting in and snaked
up through his own, their destination intent on wrapping
themselves around his neck, her intention to deepen the
kiss.

He startled her by breaking away from her, his own hands
jerking to capture hers, pinning them above her head and
to the door. She must have let a small gasp escape her
lips, because his expression quickly changed to one of
concern.

"You know I won't hurt you, right?" he asked, his voice
ragged from deep breaths.

Her own voice was deep and husky, its sound surprising
even herself. "I trust you," she said, knowing the words
would reinforce whatever he had thought he'd lost in them.

He came back to her with more a savage force than she had
expected, but quickly accommodated. In other
circumstances, her head might have dipped to allow him in,
but given her head was forced against the door, she titled
it to one side, her lips parting and his tongue entered
in, exploring every crevice of her cheeks and teeth. Her
own tongue met with his, and they danced together, tasting
and stroking.

This, she realized, this was desperation. This was their
feeble attempt to maintain what was threatened to be lost.
To prove to each other they still existed.

She tried desperately to wriggle her hands free, to move
them through his hair and up and down his body, but with
each jerk of resistance, his grip maintained. So instead
of fighting, she surrendered.

His mouth had left hers and was exploring more areas of
her - cheeks, ears, neck, collarbone. And she stood there,
intent to let him claim her until she died.

It wasn't until he pressed his entire body against her,
when she felt as if they were close enough to melt into
one being, one thing, that she finally had the strength to
speak.

"Mulder," she whispered between kisses.

He wasn't listening. She thought maybe he hadn't heard
her.

"Mulder," she said again, more forceful and louder this
time. He didn't stop his exploration, however, simply
moaning a "hmmm."

"The couch," she moaned.

She wasn't completely sure how they managed to make it
across the apartment. Her mind was otherwise occupied with
the newfound use of her hands. They slid under his shirt,
caressing his chest, as they dragged themselves, unaware
of visitors or voyeurs.

++++++

even now, as she pushed an errant strand of titian hair
behind her ear she worried her partner would know
instinctively what she could only guess.
- to be thought of as simply a beautiful woman was
bridling, unthinkable.
but she was beautiful...fatally, stunningly prepossessing.
- yet the compensatory respect she commanded only deepened
the yearnings of her heart...to let it open, to let
someone in.

++++++

I stood there, silent and unmoving, and listened as my
central characterization took a turn for the worse.

For the next two months, I would listen as her heels
clicked down the cold and silent hallway. Her alto voice
harmonized well with the clicks of my typewriter. They had
conversations about various things, cases mostly,
occasionally about things on a more personal level. But
never once did I witness what I had that cold night in
February.

I realized why when I finally had the pleasure of speaking
to Agent Scully that day in the church, and later in my
apartment. I saw all the secrets she carried in her, the
weights that pulled on her with every step. They were her
burden, a small wisp of the truth escaping her lips with
every word she spoke.

No one knows the sin of Agent Scully, except for myself,
of course.

I realize now that the act was out of desperation, a faint
hold on what was left of her own twisted reality.

'A story can have only one true ending. Even as the
stranger felt compelled to commit his final words to paper
he did it knowing they must never be read.'

Ample words, I concluded.

No one knows you fucked your partner, Agent Scully. Your
secret is safe with me.

My dying breath produces a shudder at my harsh words. I'm
sorry, I whisper.

He's with you now.

++++++

THE END.