From: "Beth Garis" Date: Tue, 16 Mar 1999 13:38:40 PST Subject: Story for Gossamer Title: Possession Author: Elizabeth Dunham Garis E-mail: JanewayKat@hotmail.com Rating: NC-17 Category: S, R Spoilers: X - Files: Fight the Future, a teeny-tiny one for Anasazi Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance Summary: Reflections on a bee, a Sarah Maclachlan song, and events in "Fight the Future" all combine to ... well, based on the rating, you can probably guess. Disclaimer: Come on, Chris. We all know these characters belong to you (the only time in my life I've *ever* envied a surfer). And you've been playing with poor Mulder & Scully so long. I'm just helping them out a little. Be a big boy and share. Don't worry. I won't make any money on this. Oh, yeah, I don't own the Sarah Maclachlan song, either. Author's note: This story began as a dare, when several of my co-workers (X - Philes all) agreed that if Mulder and Scully *did* make love, it would be to this song. It got out of hand. Hope you enjoy the results. Feedback welcome! (But remember, not only is this my first fanfiction, it's my first, ahem, *smut*fiction. Be kind.) I Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide voices trapped in yearning memories trapped in time <> Scully thought, as she lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, covered with vague shadows cast by the streetlight outside her window. It was 2 a.m. and she couldn't sleep. Again. It was a problem she had faced almost every night since they returned from Antarctica. <> she thought again. <> Or was it? Which one of them had made the first move in the hallway outside his apartment? He had followed her out of his apartment when she fled, unable to cope with the myriad of emotions raging inside her after she'd told him she was quitting the FBI. But *she* had hugged him, kissed his forehead. She could still smell that combination of deodorant and aftershave that was so characteristically and unmistakably Fox Mulder, still feel his thick hair under her fingertips. Then their eyes locked. Something had changed imperceptibly, and his grip on her had tightened. She couldn't remember who had moved first, but she *did* remember the pure, unadulterated desire that had surged over her. And then ... <> So much had ensued after that moment, that in her daytime, rational mind, Scully began to wonder if it had happened at all. If, perhaps, it had been a delirious fabrication of the virus, the hypothermia, the sheer unbelievability of her experience. <> But at night, when she lay alone and cold in her bed, Scully knew that it *had* happened, even though neither of them ever mentioned it. As she replayed the scene over and over in her head, she would invent countless scenarios for what *could* have happened, had it not been for that stupid bee. <> she wondered for the hundredth, thousandth, millionth time. <> She sat straight up when her cell phone rang, breaking her reverie. Alarmed, she jumped out of bed and rummaged through her briefcase, where she had left the phone. Only one person would have the balls to call her on her cell phone at 2 a.m. "What's wrong, Mulder?" II the night is my companion & solitude my guide would I spend forever here & not be satisfied "I owe you everything, and Scully, you owe me nothing." Mulder stood in his bare feet and boxer shorts, shivering, the wood under his feet cold and smooth. He had been pacing around his living room for an hour, unable to sleep. The words he'd spoken just before Scully had been stung echoed in his head. "You make me a whole person." In that moment, he'd been as nakedly honest with her as he had ever been. He had laid his soul open to her, left himself vulnerable. And instead of laughing in his face or walking away -- as he had half-feared she might -- she had hugged him, her arms slipping around him comfortingly, then tightening with ... what? He might have clung to her for hours, as a shipwrecked sailor clings to a life buoy, but she pulled back. Pulled back, kissed him on the forehead, and then ... <> The panic that had ensued, his own gunshot wound, the long trip to Antarctica -- <> -- had overwhelmed, for a while, his memory of what he and Scully had shared, however briefly. But now, in his apartment in the middle of the night, the thought of Scully in his arms kept him awake. He could still remember how her slender form had felt against him, still feel the pulse in her neck beating under his fingertips as he drew closer to her. Nothing -- *nothing* -- he did could ward off the desperate thoughts chasing themselves around in his head, the deep ache of longing -- emotional and yes, physical, too -- he felt. <> he thought. <> Then, a wave of anger. <> In a fit of self-righteousness, he angrily punched the memory dial for her cell phone. At least she would know it was him. Only he would call on her cell phone in the middle of the night. She would be worried, but that was just too damn bad. III Through this world I've stumbled so many times betrayed Scully felt a surge of anger when Mulder simply answered laconically, "Nothin'. Did I wake you?" Teeth chattering now because she was standing in her bare feet wearing only her satin pajamas, she retorted sarcastically, "Oh, no, Mulder. Why would I be *sleeping* in the middle of the night? I was actually just lying here staring up at the ceiling, thinking, wow, I wish Mulder would call." <> she thought, <> Mulder had the grace to sound slightly remorseful. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm just having trouble sleeping." There was a long, uncomfortable silence, then he added, "I've had a lot of trouble sleeping since we got back." He didn't need to elaborate. "Yeah, me, too, Mulder," she said, letting the words fall into the void between them. "Get dressed, Scully." "Why?" She was instantly suspicious. Whenever Mulder called or showed up in the middle of the night and told her to get dressed, it always spelled trouble. She had moved out into her living room now, and her irritation was growing. "What are you not telling me, Mulder?" "I just thought since we're both up ... " His voice trailed off, and he seemed to be waiting for her to fill the silence. Scully didn't oblige. He sighed and continued, "I thought maybe we could go somewhere and get coffee ... or something." "First of all, Mulder, it's now -- " she glanced at the clock on her microwave, "2:30 a.m. I don't think I'd want the coffee in any diner that was open this late. Second of all, it's freezing out. I'm cold *now,* and I don't feel like getting dressed and traipsing out." Scully shrugged her shoulders for effect, even though she knew Mulder couldn't see her. "I think I'll just drink something warm, watch some TV, then try to get some sleep." IV trying to find an honest word to find the truth enslaved Mulder bit his lip, surprised by the sudden shyness he felt. He wasn't sure what he wanted. All he knew was that he was cold and lonely. That, in and of itself, was certainly not unusual. But tonight, for some reason, the hole in his life -- the one that seemed to always have been there -- felt much bigger, blacker, and emptier than it had felt in years. Maybe it was because he now knew what he was missing. Mulder pushed the thought back and plunged blindly ahead. "What're you planning on watching?" he asked conversationally, as if it weren't the dead of night. "Oh, I don't know, Mulder," Scully replied, her voice breaking up a bit as her cell phone crackled. "Maybe QVC. I haven't completed my set of Hummel figurines yet." He laughed lightly, and was rewarded with a chuckle from the other end. <> he thought. <> Aloud, he said, "How about if I bring over a movie?" Scully laughed again, louder this time. "No, thanks, Mulder. 'Debbie Does Dallas' isn't my idea of night-owl entertainment." Mulder feigned indignation. "Scully, I'm hurt. Is that what you think of me?" "Well, no. I suppose that's an 'audience-of-one' flick," she parried expertly. "Still, Mulder, don't you think I've seen more than my share of imitation alien autopsies?" Despite Scully's words, Mulder sensed victory and moved in for the kill, still not entirely sure where he was going with this. "How about 'Terms of Endearment'? 'City of Angels'?" Scully sighed again, said nothing. "Come on, Scully. Please?" V Oh you speak to me in riddles & you speak to me in rhymes Mulder's earnestness surprised and puzzled Scully, and she wasn't sure what to say. She felt as if she were hovering at the edge of a dark precipice. What lay beyond was unclear, but Scully knew that if she agreed to Mulder's request, she was, in effect, leaping into the unknown. It wasn't as if Mulder had never been in her apartment in the middle of the night. But it had always been with a purpose, something urgent that truly couldn't wait. This -- this was ... what? She sighed again, then leapt. "Okay, Mulder. One movie. Against my better judgment, one movie, then home. You know, we're going to regret this in the morning." "It's just a movie, Scully. Don't get your hopes up," Mulder said, a leer in his voice. Scully felt herself blush. "That's not what I meant, Mulder, and you know it," she said icily. "We're just both going to be *very* tired in the morning." Mulder laughed. She knew he was laughing because he'd gotten the reaction he wanted. "So, no 'Debbie,' huh?" "Mulder -- " she warned. "Okay, okay," he said seriously, but she could still hear the laughter in his voice. "I'll be there in a bit." "I'll leave the door unlocked," she said. "Let yourself in, but let me know it's you before you open the door, or I might wind up shooting you again." "Bye." Scully sighed a third time as she hung up. She unlocked her apartment door, then laid her cell phone down on the coffee table. She knew she should go get her robe, but all of a sudden her legs felt leaden. Instead, she grabbed an afghan and flopped down onto the sofa. As she pulled the afghan around her, she wondered if she had taken leave of her senses. VI My body aches to breathe your breath your words keep me alive Mulder tossed his phone aside and cast around his apartment for something to wear. It had been better than a week since he'd even thought about doing laundry. He finally settled on a pair of jeans -- rumpled but fairly clean -- that had been tossed over a chair in the living room, then grabbed a black sweatshirt off a hook on the back of the door. Pulling the sweatshirt over his head, he retrieved his car keys, wallet and cell phone from the coffee table. He realized, after locking his door and walking toward his car, that he should have worn a jacket of some sort, as well. It was cold. Mulder shivered and walked faster. Once in his car, he turned the heat and the radio up full blast. He winced as the local "alternative" station cranked out a hard, pounding, cynical song. Somehow, it didn't suit his mood as well as it usually did. As he pulled away from the curb, Mulder stabbed irritably at the tuner, trying to find something that did. Finally, he settled on a song he vaguely recognized. Oddly enough, he realized as he listened that he *knew* the lyrics. Somehow, his photographic memory had embedded the words in his mind, even though he wasn't even conscious of having learned them. <> he thought, <> Still, the lyrics drew Mulder in, mesmerizing him. The music was almost ... erotic, he decided. For the umpteenth time that night, Mulder had to reign in his errant thoughts. The music ended, and the late-night DJ, in a cloyingly sweet and husky voice, ran down a list of dedications for the song she had just played. <> The thought irritated Mulder, so much so that he forgot to listen when the DJ actually named the artist. By the time the station had run commercials and launched into its next set, Mulder was pulling up in front of Scully's apartment. He lingered a bit, reluctant to leave the warmth of his car -- and, suddenly, strangely nervous about going into Scully's apartment in the middle of the night without a clear agenda. Finally, after five minutes of agonizing, he switched off the engine and went in. Mulder laughed to himself as he thought about Scully's neighbors. <> He rapped lightly on the door, calling softly, "Scully?" It was just as his knuckles made contact with the wood that he realized he had forgotten the promised video altogether. <> he thought. <> VII Into this night I wander it's morning that I dread Scully picked up the remote and pointed it at the television. It took several tries before the set flickered on; the control's batteries were almost dead. She was rarely home, and even when she was, she watched TV only infrequently. She flicked idly through the channels. The truth was, although she'd been suffering bouts of insomnia -- more than she cared to admit -- she rarely watched television when she couldn't sleep. A good book or a glass of wine usually did the trick. Scully knew now why she preferred books. Lots of old movies, none of them good. Two shop-at-home channels. She chuckled as she happened across a "Baywatch" rerun, and briefly thought about leaving it on for Mulder. But when "Baywatch" went to commercial, she switched channels again. When her television set began *moaning,* Scully's eyes widened in disbelief. She had stumbled onto another one of Mulder's favorite programs -- well, favorite *type* of programs. Scully found herself hypnotized by the soft-core pornography scenario playing itself out in front of her -- courtesy of a local premium channel that aired such things late at night. It was comical, really. A naked young man was alternately reading bad poetry aloud and singing Broadway-musical-type songs -- all while astride an equally naked, unnaturally voluptuous blonde woman. The only verb Scully could find to describe the young man's earnest ministrations was *riding.* He looked ridiculous, but if his partner was to be believed, his rhythmic gyrations were having their desired effect. Scully giggled self-consciously as the couple climaxed -- together, of course. <> she thought, <> Then she found herself speculating wildly about what Mulder *did* think about when he watched this ... stuff. Special Agent Dana Scully, MD, analyzed that thought and responded by pointing out to herself that there was probably one reason, and one reason only, that Fox Mulder watched movies like that. Dana Scully, the woman who had stood in Mulder's hallway and opened her mouth in preparation for his aborted kiss, merely wondered if he ever thought about *her* while he was doing it. At that, Scully felt a rush of warmth and moisture between her legs. <> she scolded herself, <> Still, she left the movie on, finding herself, in turn, both amused and aroused by it. She became so engrossed in what was going on that she didn't hear Mulder knock. "Scully?" Even though Mulder's voice was barely above a whisper, Scully sat up with a start, her heart pounding. Gathering the afghan around her, she called out just as softly, "Come in, Mulder," then pointed the remote at the television set to change it back to "Baywatch." The batteries in the remote control chose that moment to quit altogether. <> thought Scully frantically as the door to her apartment swung open. <> VIII another day of knowing of the path I fear to tread He had seen Scully naked. He had seen her at death's door. But Fox Mulder had never seen his partner watching pornography. He stared openly at Scully. Her expression mirrored his own, and her cheeks were flushed. He noted, with pleasure, that she was wearing grayish-violet satin pajamas which only served to emphasize the fiery tint of her cheeks and hair. She was clutching an afghan around her, but didn't seem to notice that it wasn't covering her entirely. The top button on her shirt had come undone, and it gaped open just enough to allow Mulder a glimpse of what lay underneath. The hint of round, creamy flesh was tantalizing, and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away. Unfortunately, Scully followed his gaze and realized what he was staring at. She swiftly re-buttoned her shirt and pulled the afghan up higher. <> thought Mulder. "Mulder," Scully said, almost as if she hadn't been expecting him. Was she breathing hard? Meanwhile, a fresh round of frantic moaning began to emanate from the television. Mulder, usually as quick with a comeback as any stand-up comedian, found himself at a complete loss for words. <> his brain prompted him. "Mulder -- " Scully began, pointing the remote control at the television and stabbing frantically at the remote buttons. "Uh, Scully, I, uh -- " Mulder stammered at the same time. They both laughed nervously, then Mulder quickly spit out the comeback that had finally surfaced in his mind. "So, uh, Scully, you been raiding that drawer of videos that aren't mine?" She blushed furiously and shot him the patented Scully "look of death." <> he thought. "I was channel-surfing and my remote broke," she explained, looking, Mulder thought, just a little bit sheepish. "Uh-huh," Mulder said neutrally, moving toward the sofa. She drew up her legs to make room for him, and he plopped down. He propped his legs up on the coffee table and sighed. Glancing at the television, he couldn't resist baiting her further. "Well, Scully, if you're going to watch this stuff, you should pick something a little more ... tasteful." Mulder felt instantly sorry as he sensed her tense up next to him. "Well, Mulder, I don't have the vast experience with 'adult' entertainment that you do," she shot back, sounding genuinely annoyed now. "I *do* have a life, you know." Now *he* was angry. "Yeah, Scully, I know. You never let me forget it." His eyes met hers, and he could tell his remark had struck home. "What the hell is *that* supposed to mean, Mulder? I thought we were through having these discussions. After all we've been through together. After everything we've done." <> he thought, in response. Speaking aloud, he added, "Look, Scully, you're the one who started it, playing the 'I-have-a-life' refrain." The angry silence that followed was broken only, incongruously, by moaning from the television set. IX oh into the sea of waking dreams I follow without pride Scully studied Mulder's profile. His face was taut with anger, and his eyes were flashing. A thousand different emotions warred inside her, each vying for priority. <> said Indignation petulantly. <> <> said Reason. <> <> Anger shot back. <> <> hissed Lust. <> Reason, as usual, won. "Look, Mulder," Scully said, "I'm sorry." She stood up, holding the afghan like a robe, and walked over to the television to turn it off. As the moaning faded, she turned around to look at him. "I'm tired. And to be honest, I'm not sure why you're here." As an afterthought, she asked, "So what movie did you bring?" Somehow, she knew the answer even before Mulder answered her question. "You're not going to believe me, Scully, but I forgot it." It was Mulder's turn to look sheepish. She raised her eyebrows at him. "You're right, Mulder. I *don't* believe you," she said drily. Scully moved back to the sofa and sat down. She turned to face him, carefully avoiding any physical contact. "So why *are* you here, Mulder?" He raised his eyes to meet hers. His gaze was so intense that Scully had to force herself not to look away. She felt the heat return, more insistent this time. She managed to ignore it as Mulder spoke. "I don't know, Scully," he said honestly. "I couldn't sleep. I ... " His voice trailed off, and he looked down, looking for all the world like a little boy who had lost his puppy. Scully reached out and patted his knee. The innocence of the gesture belied the fire sparked by the contact. She knew what she had to do. "Go home, Mulder," she said softly, forcing a smile. "Go home, get some rest. Tomorrow, this will all look different." At the back of her mind, Reason was smiling, but Lust was screaming. Reason was totally unprepared for what happened next. Mulder stood up, looking down at her with an emotion Scully couldn't identify. She was surprised to see *tears* in her partner's eyes. "No, Scully, it *won't* look different," he said in a fierce whisper. "It will look just like it's always looked. It will be cool and professional on the exterior, with a big, hollow, empty space at the center. And you and I will pretend that it's okay. That nothing's wrong. I came here tonight, I suppose, to tell you that it's *not* okay, that this -- this silence -- is wrong. But you don't seem to care." With those words, Mulder leaned over, grabbed his keys and wallet, and stalked toward the door. As Mulder reached for the doorknob, Scully's brain screamed, <> "Mulder, wait!" Scully said. She stood up, the afghan falling to the sofa. She didn't bother to pick it up as she strode over to where her partner stood. "I *do* care. How can you say, how can you think, I don't?" She placed her hands on his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense, then relax, underneath her palms. The spark within her was rapidly turning into a raging fire. Mulder cupped her chin and raised her head so that her eyes met his again. "Do you think about it at all, Scully?" he asked in a murmur. She didn't have to ask what he meant. She knew. She felt her own eyes filling with tears. <> thought Reason. "Of course I do, Mulder," she whispered, tears falling freely now. "But what would you have me do? Abandon all we've shared, betray the trust we've built?" Mulder smiled, and his hands came up to stroke her hair. He brushed the tears from cheek with his thumb, then shook his head ruefully. "No, Scully. I just think we should finish what we started." When his head dipped toward hers, she tightened her grip on Mulder's shoulders. If Reason had anything to say, Scully chose to ignore it. She closed her eyes, and when their lips met, it was with a familiarity that had always been there. Scully had imagined this moment over and over. Always, in her fantasies, it had been gentle, unhurried, perhaps even a bit tentative. The reality -- after more than five years of waiting -- was ... somewhat different. Her lips parted instantly under Mulder's firm pressure. He tasted so good that she found herself responding hungrily, biting gently at his tongue and lips. The kiss deepened as he rewarded her with a low moan. His hands moved from her head to her hips, pulling her toward him. Scully pushed Mulder against the apartment door, kneading his shoulders and pressing herself to him. Through the thin satin of her pajamas, she felt him hardening against her. As her hips met his, her breathing quickened and she felt herself grow wet. This time, it was she who moaned, so loudly that she startled herself. <> she thought insanely as the door rattled lightly from their exertions. <> X 'cause nothing stands between us here & I won't be denied <> thought Mulder as Scully moaned against his questing lips. He pulled back from their kiss, as much to breathe as to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "Scully," he said, looking down at her again. The tears had dried on her cheeks, and her eyes now burned with an emotion he had only glimpsed briefly in the past -- veiled behind the walls Scully had carefully constructed for herself. She stopped moving against him. "What is it, Mulder?" If she had any doubts, they weren't apparent in her voice. Mulder realized suddenly that his own arousal must be *very* apparent to her. Vaguely embarrassed, he gently pushed her away, ducked around her, and walked back over to the couch. He tried to sit down as nonchalantly as possible. The next thing he knew, a set of keys was whistling past his head. "God *damn* you, Mulder!" Scully practically screamed. He looked up in surprise. She had retrieved his keys from the floor, where he had dropped them. They now lay in the far corner of the room, and Scully stood about two feet in front of him, hands on her hips and eyes blazing. Mulder couldn't help but notice that her nipples were clearly visible through her pajama blouse. "What the hell is wrong with you, Mulder?" she demanded, her voice lower in pitch, but the fury just as obvious. "I, uh ... " Mulder stammered. He paused, then said tentatively, "I just wanted to make sure that this is what you want." Her response was a laugh, but a hint of steel was audible underneath it. "Listen to me," she said, moving toward him. "Don't talk to *me* about finishing what we started. God, Mulder, we've seen each other naked." She shook her head and looked down at him, tenderness and amusement mingled on her face. "Have you forgotten I'm a doctor?" She bent over, her nose just inches from his, and laid a hand on the obvious bulge in his jeans. "This doesn't scare me," she teased, softly caressing him through the denim, then grinning as he swelled even harder against her fingers. Scully sobered and added, "None of it scares me, Mulder. It's okay." This time, it was Scully who initiated the kiss. The force of it drove Mulder back into the couch cushions. The last of his doubts vanished into thin air -- along with the last thread of his self-control. Scully's tongue parted his lips, seeking as much of him as she could. She threaded her hands through his hair. She was still leaning over him, balancing her weight against his knees. He slipped his hands underneath her top and cupped her breasts in his hands, then gently rubbed his palms over her nipples. "Oh, God, Mulder," Scully sighed, her lips leaving his to rain kisses on his cheeks, eyelids, and coming to rest against his right ear. "What took us so long?" Mulder opened his mouth, prepared to give as rational an answer as possible under the circumstances, but Scully laid a finger over his lips. "That was a rhetorical question, Mulder," she whispered. Quickly straddling his legs, Scully lowered herself onto his lap. Again, her lips came down on his, fiercer now. Slowly, she began sliding herself back and forth against the erection that was becoming more and more difficult for Mulder to control. When Scully began moaning again, Mulder knew he'd better act or risk losing it all before it even began. Mulder grasped her hips with his hands to still her. He grinned up at her questioning glance. He slid his fingers beneath the elastic on her pajama bottoms and slid them down. Scully obliged by straightening first one leg, then the other, so that he could pull them off altogether. Then he deftly flipped her to the side, onto her back, on the couch. Mulder stood up and gazed down at his partner, his best friend. Her legs were spread slightly apart, and just beneath the curly auburn hair there, he could see her skin glistening with the evidence of her own arousal. As he watched, she unbuttoned her shirt and slid her arms out of it. He swallowed hard, afraid he would climax merely at the sight of something he had imagined for years. Her breasts were rounded, full, the nipples rosy and hard. "Mulder?" Scully raised her eyebrows. "Don't you think you're a little, um, overdressed for the occasion?" He jumped, a little startled by the sound of her voice, and she giggled as he fumbled with his belt buckle. "Mulder," she teased, "I'm shocked. All those videos, and you haven't mastered this particular skill?" "Shut up, Scully," Mulder grumbled good-naturedly. "I'm used to doing this by myself. Not with the most beautiful woman in the world watching me." He pulled his shirt over his head, and finally freed his hardened penis of the confining denim. He was gratified by Scully's sharp intake of breath. She opened her arms to him, and slowly he lowered herself onto her, half-afraid he would crush her tiny frame beneath him. Mulder felt another sharp, intense surge of desire as his penis brushed the coarse hair between her legs and her nipples grazed his bare chest. <> he coached himself. <> XI & I would be the one to hold you down kiss you so hard I'll take your breath away Skin to skin with Mulder, Scully felt more comfortable with him than she ever had in their more than five years together. <> chimed Reason's whining voice, faint at the back of her mind. She silenced Reason by circling her hips against Mulder's, delighting at the feel of his penis tightening against her swollen center. Mulder groaned, and Scully sensed that she'd better act, or they'd both lose it. Spreading her legs, she grasped Mulder and, without a word, slowly slid him inside her. They gasped in unison as flesh finally met flesh in every way. She raised her hips to draw him in as deeply as possible. Slowly at first, then more urgently, Mulder began sliding himself in and out of her. His rhythm matched her own, and each time he entered her, she felt a sharp spike of pleasure as their bodies met. She could hear his ragged breathing as he neared the edge, but she was so focused on the feel of Mulder -- *Mulder* -- inside her, that she was only faintly aware of it. His lips were moving frantically over her -- ears, neck, breasts, ears -- and every place they touched burned like embers. Scully looked up at her partner in fascination. She had seen his eyes burning with this singleness of purpose before, but it had always been centered around aliens and government conspiracies. This time, she realized, it centered around her -- and his delight in her body. She smiled wistfully, thinking of the years they had wasted. Becoming aware of Scully's scrutiny, Mulder stopped and looked into her eyes. "Am I hurting you?" Scully, feeling bereft as the pleasurable rhythm ceased, shook her head. She tried to put her thoughts into words, but soon abandoned that effort and responded by clasping his head to hers for a lingering kiss. Then, she slid her hands lower and guided him back and forth once again. She clutched at Mulder's back, thrusting up against him to drive him even deeper. Again, he picked up speed, but made no sound. Mulder's kisses ceased, and he simply held tightly to her arms as their bodies worked together. Their gazes locked, and for a moment, Scully knew nothing else except for the depth of Mulder's eyes and the hard slickness of him moving inside her. Surprisingly, Mulder's silence continued as her body finally took him over the precipice, but she felt his explosive release inside her and the shudder of pleasure that shook them both. Her own climax took her equally by surprise. Mulder's release -- and his slowing strokes as he finished -- triggered a bone-racking spasm of pleasure. Again and again, she felt herself convulsing around him. With Mulder holding her tightly, she rocked against him and realized, suddenly, that she had cried out his name. As her shudders subsided, she dropped back against the sofa. Mulder's weight on top of her now was languid and warm, and his lingering, relaxed presence inside her felt right and complete. <> she thought, stifling a chuckle. XII & after I'd wipe away the tears just close your eyes dear "Oh, God -- Mulder!" Scully's sharp cry of ecstasy startled Mulder even as his body was coming down from his own climax. Unbidden tears came to his eyes as she clung to him and rode the waves he had created in her. As they collapsed to the sofa, Mulder felt relief, overwhelming love -- and a nameless fear -- welling up in him. He turned his face away from Scully's, trying to hide the turmoil he was feeling. It didn't work, because the tears he'd struggled to control began slipping down his cheeks and onto her bare shoulder. He felt her hands in his hair again, this time gently turning his face to his. "Mulder." Her voice was husky and low, barely above a whisper. He smiled at her through his tears and tried to speak. Failing that, he pulled her back into a tight embrace, burying his face in her neck. She felt *so* good to him, her hair smelling faintly of her shampoo and her skin soft against his face. Even now, as their bodies were cooling together, it felt right to be inside her. "Mulder." Scully's voice was insistent now. She squeezed him once, hard, then shifted her weight beneath him and pushed him slightly away from her. "Mulder, talk to me." Reluctantly, he eased himself out of Scully and flopped onto his back next to her. She rolled onto her side facing him, throwing a leg over his and pulling the afghan up over both of them. Mulder studiously avoided her glance, staring instead at the ceiling. "Scully, I ... " Once again, words failed him. Mulder took a deep breath and finally looked at her. He slipped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer to him. Her hair, tousled now from their lovemaking, spilled over his bare chest. With his free hand, he lightly stroked the tangled locks, smoothing them out. She sighed contentedly, and he tried again. "Scully, I - I - I don't know what to say," he said in a rush. "What *is* there to say?" she asked sleepily. "What do we do now?" he asked. "Where do we go from here?" "We do what we've always done," she answered, her voice sharper, less sleepy, now. "We search for the truth together. This changes nothing, Mulder. *Nothing.*" Her words, for some reason, made his heart grow cold. Mulder stopped stroking her head. "How can we pretend that nothing's happened?" he demanded. He felt Scully pull away from him. She sat up, her back to him now, shivering a bit as she slid out from under the afghan. She bent over and retrieved her pajamas from the floor, first buttoning on her top, then standing to pull up the pants. Scully turned back to face him, her arms crossed. Mulder felt the coldness growing. "I'm not asking that we pretend nothing happened. I'm just saying that this is only a step, just one step, Mulder." "What do you mean?" "We've known each other for almost six years, Mulder. We've been through more together than most married couples. We've lost parents. We've faced down OPC. And God knows, we've visited each other in the hospital more times than I care to count." She grinned wryly. "This physical intimacy is an expression of the other intimacies we've already shared, Mulder. But just because we've had sex doesn't mean we're going to live happily ever after together." A long silence followed. Mulder felt as if she'd kicked him in the stomach. Scully just stood there, arms still crossed, her expression an odd mix of tenderness and resolve. When Mulder finally spoke, he stammered again. "B-b-but Scully ... " He paused. "Scully, I love you." Mulder watched his partner's face cloud over. It was clear she was struggling with something. He expected -- hoped, at least -- that she would echo his words. Instead, she silently turned away, took a few steps, and then just stood there, motionless except for her shoulders, which were shaking. Was she crying? Filling with a growing panic, he tossed aside the afghan and crossed the room to where she stood. Tentatively, he touched her shoulder, whispered her name. Scully jumped and whirled to face him. Tears were streaming down her face, and the pain in her eyes was obvious. When she saw his puzzled expression, she smiled through her tears, even as a tiny sob escaped her lips. "Oh, Mulder," she murmured, "How do I make you understand? How do I make you understand what I mean ... without hurting you?" She slipped into his arms. For a moment, he stood stiffly, not returning her fierce embrace. Then Mulder relented and tightened his arms around her. The satin of her pajamas felt cool against his bare skin. The top of her head fit neatly beneath his chin. Silence filled the room again. Mulder was afraid now to let her go, feeling that if she left his arms, she might somehow vanish into thin air. Then she started talking, the words spilling out of her rapid-fire and slightly muffled. "Mulder, you're my partner. You're my best friend. As much, as hard, as long as I've struggled against admitting it, I can't imagine the rest of my life without you." Her voice trembled slightly, but there was no stopping the torrent once it started. "But this didn't happen in a vacuum, Mulder. It comes from almost six years of working together, learning to trust each other. And I don't want *this* to keep us from doing what we love, Mulder. I can't give up this work now. It's who I am. And I could never ask you to do it either. It would kill me to take it away from you." Her energy spent, she sighed against his chest. Mulder pushed her away and held her at arm's length, gripping her shoulders tightly. Their eyes met again. "Who said we have to give up the work, Scully?" She shook her head ruefully. "I'm not saying we should. But because of that, we can't let what's happened tonight become a part of our daily lives." Mulder let his hands fall to his sides. "What?" Within him, bewilderment warred with anger and resentment. "You're saying we just walk away from each other and go back to chasing aliens with nary a word?" he asked sarcastically. "Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am, here's your badge, Agent Mulder, there's the door?" "Mulder, stop!" Scully grabbed his arm, looked up into his eyes again, squeezing his wrist for emphasis. "I'm not saying we don't talk about it. And I'm not saying that this won't ever happen again." She raised her eyebrows slyly, then sobered. "But I *am* saying that this doesn't mean calling each other 'Fox' and 'Dana' at work. This doesn't mean flowers and movies and a shared apartment. We have to be able to do the work without worrying about whether I did the dishes or you left your underwear on the floor." "Okay, so where do we go from here, Scully?" Mulder demanded, a hot ember of anger still burning in his chest. She grasped his other hand and replied, simply, "Nowhere. I'm not going anywhere, Mulder. I will always be here for you, as I always have been. As I have always trusted you to be. And now -- " she paused slightly, " -- now we know one more thing about each other." With that, her hands came up to his face, and she pulled his head to hers for a deep, lingering kiss. When she released him, Scully turned and moved over to her stereo. Searching through the handful of compact discs stacked neatly beside it, she quickly selected one and slid it in. Pressing "play," she turned to Mulder and extended her hand. "Dance with me, Mulder." His stomach still churning with the conflicting feelings she had stirred in him, Mulder took her in his arms, thinking they must look ridiculous -- a naked man dancing with a beautiful woman in satin pajamas. He looked down at Scully, her auburn hair falling in waves around her face and her hazel eyes shining with -- with what? he wondered. As the music started, Mulder realized she had chosen the song he'd heard on the radio. His chuckle made Scully look up sharply, a question in her eyes. He patted her reassuringly and said, "I heard this in the car on the way over here." He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, "It made me think of making love to you." He felt her shake slightly, this time with laughter. "If I'd know that," she whispered back, "I'd have played this song for you years ago." XIII & I would be the one to hold you down kiss you so hard I'll take your breath away For a few minutes, time stood still in Dana Scully's apartment. She savored the moment, drinking in the smells and feelings that assaulted her senses: Mulder's warm skin beneath her fingertips, his soft, even breathing against her ear, the gentle pressure of his hand at her waist. After the song ended, she stood there, unwilling to move. Then, without warning, Scully felt herself being lifted off her feet. Mulder swept her up easily into his arms. She was so startled that she had to clutch his neck to keep herself from tumbling backward. "Mulder, just what the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded. He laughed and kissed her hard on the lips, then began moving toward her bedroom door. "Mulder -- " she began protesting, more loudly now, but he shushed her sharply. "I have slept in this bed exactly once," he said darkly. Scully saw a shadow pass briefly over Mulder's eyes, and she nodded in understanding. "Right after your father was shot. When you were sick." "As paranoid and delirious as I was," he confessed, a grin creeping over his face, "I remember looking up at you as you undressed me and wondered what it would be like to have you beside me in this bed. And now, Special Agent Dana Scully -- " she shrieked as he tossed her lightly onto the bed, "I'm going to find out." The bed shook as he flopped down beside her. He rolled onto his side, propped his head up with his elbow, and said, with a twinkle in his eye, "Now take your clothes off, again." She shook her head, suddenly shy. "Mulder, I ... I'm tired." He reached over and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Don't worry. Somehow, I don't think I'll have trouble falling asleep now. I just don't want to be naked alone." He grinned again as she reluctantly reached up to unbutton her top. "Keep going, FBI woman," he said. His remark triggered a laugh that came up from her toes. Scully stopped what she was doing, grabbed a pillow, and swatted her partner with it. The laughter grew as he fought back with his own pillow. Soon, they both collapsed to the mattress, breathless. As their breathing slowed, Scully felt Mulder shiver beside her. "Get under the covers, Mulder," she said, "before you freeze." "Yes, ma'am." He squirmed under the comforter and waggled his eyebrows at her. "You're still dressed." Scully murmured a noncommittal "mm hmm," but finished unbuttoning her top and tossed it to the floor. As she stood up to slide off her pants, Mulder drew back the covers for her. When the air wafted over her bare skin, she, too, shivered, and quickly climbed into bed next to her partner. He pulled the comforter over her, then gathered her into his arms, his chest against her back. The contact was soothing and safe, now, and Scully felt sated, satisfied. She wriggled closer to him, wanting to feel every square inch of him against her. "Watch it, Agent Scully," Mulder said, his voice thick with drowsiness. "Any closer and I'll draw my weapon." He thrust his pelvis against her to illustrate. "Uh-huh," she replied. "I'm afraid you're all out of ammunition, *Agent* Mulder." "Mmmm," came the faint answer. "For now. For now ... " His voice trailed off, and Scully could tell by his even breathing that he had finally fallen asleep. Strangely, as tired as she knew she was, Scully found herself unable to do the same. A vague fear circled at the back of her mind -- an irrational fear that, if she slept, Mulder would disappear, or worse. A part of Scully wanted him to be beside her this way, every night from now on. And yet, she knew what she had told him earlier was true. How could the one person she loved this much create this much turmoil within her? But her body finally overtook her mind, and Scully drifted off into a fitful sleep. She was unsure how long she actually slept, but when she awoke, her clock read 6:45, and the first gray hints of daylight were beginning to creep in through her bedroom window. She started when Mulder shifted next to her. For a moment, she had believed the night's events to be a dream. Mulder was still sleeping soundly and, by the look on his face, peacefully. Scully envied him, and lay there for a long moment, just watching him sleep, and steeling herself for what lay ahead. Then she slipped soundlessly from his arms. Not bothering to dress, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, making it as hot as she could stand it. She stepped in and closed her eyes, letting the hot water sluice over her body and hair. She washed her hair first, then found her shower gel and sponge. Scully scrubbed meticulously, trying to find comfort and normalcy in the routine -- and trying not to think about the naked man sleeping in the next room. "Federal agent! Hands in the air!" Scully yelped and almost dropped her shower gel. She whirled, and there stood Mulder, holding back the shower curtain with one hand. She had been so absorbed in what she was doing that she hadn't even heard him. "You missed a spot." There was a leer in his voice, but his smile was one of genuine appreciation as he looked at her. "Mulder!" she said in mock exasperation, and lobbed the sponge at him. He caught it deftly. "Here, let me show you," he said, stepping into the shower, still holding the sponge. "Turn around," he ordered, and, still shaking her head, she obeyed. Scully felt his arms go around her waist, then felt an insistent pressure on her bottom. "Mulder, bringing your weapon in the shower. Tsk, tsk," she joked half-heartedly, already aroused by his presence. This wasn't getting any easier. "Just happy to see you," he said. "And now I've got more 'ammunition.'" A hand snaked between her legs. He found the spot quickly, then began slow, deliberate circles with the sponge. "Uh-oh," was Scully's last rational thought. "We're going to waste a lot of water." With the hot water running down her face, across her breasts, and down her legs, she thrust herself against Mulder's touch. As he caressed her, he slowly rubbed himself against her. Growing impatient, Scully pulled the sponge from Mulder's hand, tossed it aside, and turned to face him. "Enough already. I'm clean." She pushed him against the shower wall and pressed herself to him. He groaned loudly when she began rotating her hips against him, his erection sandwiched between their wet bodies. Emboldened, she bent her head to take him in her mouth. "Oh, God, Scully," he muttered. She experimented with her tongue, then finally set up a satisfying rhythm. "Oh, God," he said, much more loudly. "Oh, God, Scully!" His cries only aroused and encouraged her. He tasted so good, and for the first time in her life, she actually found herself anticipating the inevitable with pleasure, not ambivalence. It was her turn to groan when Mulder pulled himself away. "No, Mulder," she said, realizing she was panting. <> she thought. "You know what they say about turnabout, Scully," he said. Mulder grasped her shoulders and switched places with her, pinning her against the shower wall. Despite the warm water flowing over both of them, the tile felt cool beneath her back. His lips found hers, but lingered only for a moment, then moved to her neck and breasts. Scully watched, enthralled, as he lightly kissed one, then the other. She ran her fingers lightly through his damp, tousled hair, then tightened her grip as he took one of her breasts in his mouth and ran his tongue over the nipple. Scully groaned loudly as he did the same to the other, then trailed kisses across her stomach and down, his lips finally coming to rest between her legs. He kissed her there once. The water was splashing against his shoulder blades now, running in rivulets down his arms. Scully could feel the deflected water running down her legs and the mist hitting her breasts and stomach. "Mmm," Mulder murmured against her, the dark hair on his head mingling with the curly auburn hair between her legs. "Mulder, uh, oh, oh, God!" was all Scully managed to stammer out as his tongue deftly found its target. She had never felt so vocal -- or less articulate -- as his tongue began rapid, insistent circles. Then he began to gently suck her, alternating that with the maddening circles. His grunts of pleasure and exertion only intensified the experience. Scully felt her muscles tighten for the release, but as she began to wonder how she would stay upright, Mulder abruptly pulled away and stood up. Reaching behind him to shut off the shower, he looked at her with twinkling eyes. He reached around her to grab a towel, toweled off briefly, then slowly ran it over her. As the damp terry brushed across her skin, she felt she might explode with frustration. "Damn you, Mulder!" she yelled. He merely chuckled and stepped out, brushing himself against her as he did. He turned and held out a hand. "Coming?" he asked. "I *was,*" Scully managed to spit out. She reached down and retrieved the sponge, this time throwing it overhand with considerably better aim. Only Mulder's reflexes saved him. He ducked, and the sponge hit the bathroom mirror with a resounding "splat." Mulder laughed even harder, then apparently took pity on her. "I'm sorry, Scully," he apologized, trying -- and failing -- to wipe the last traces of a smile from his face. He took a step closer, again proffering his hand. Reluctantly, Scully took it. Her nerves were still on edge, and that simple contact with Mulder made them jangle. As she stepped out of the shower, she muttered, "This had better be good, Mulder." In reply, he drew her against him. Scully drew in her breath sharply as his bare skin met hers. She pressed her lips against his chest, placing rapid, fevered kisses on it, then pulling away so she could work her way down, but Mulder stopped her. He bent down slightly, his lips just brushing her ear. "Wait," he whispered huskily. Scully, who now couldn't decide if she wanted to have screaming sex with this man -- or throttle him for keeping her on the brink like this -- took some pleasure in noting that Mulder's voice shook a little as he struggled to maintain self-control. She straightened up and shot him a one-eyebrow-raised look that she knew *he* knew meant, "Well?" Mulder turned wordlessly and pulled her back into the bedroom. He stopped in front of the bed and dropped an arm around her shoulder, as casually as if they were two painters surveying a house. "You know," he said conspiratorially, "I have a confession to make, Scully." Scully sighed in exasperation. She was going to have to take a cold shower soon. "What, Mulder?" His voice dropped to a whisper again. "I lied earlier. I haven't always wanted to *sleep* with you in this bed. I've always wanted -- " he grabbed her suddenly, spun her around, and pushed her onto the bed as she finished his sentence, " -- to make wild, loud love to you in this bed." Scully felt his reassuring weight on top of her, then a rush of wetness as he quickly entered her and began stroking in and out. This time, their lovemaking was slower, more languorous -- and much louder. "I hope the neighbors have left for work," Scully thought as Mulder cried out her name over and over. When she sensed he was nearing climax, she thrust up against him -- eliciting a satisfying moan -- then, her legs around his waist, swiftly rolled them both over. Mulder looked up at her, startled and pleased. "Hey!" he protested weakly, but the protest trailed off into a faint "mmmm" as she sat up and began sliding herself up and down on him. She felt his hand fumbling between her legs, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. "Here, Mulder, I've got a better idea," she said. "Keep yourself busy." She moved his hands to her breasts, which he clutched tightly. "I'll do the work," she added softly, putting her own hand between her legs. Mulder's eyes widened in appreciation as she stroked herself in gentle, firm circles, all the while keeping up a quickening rhythm on him. <> she thought wryly. Scully was savoring the pleasure she was giving herself, coupled with Mulder's hard thrusts, when she caught a glimpse of a distracted half-smile on his face. "What?" she asked suspiciously, not missing a beat in their lovemaking. <> she thought. <> "You look like that movie I caught you watching," he murmured in amusement. "All you need is some poetry. 'There once was a young man from Venus,'" he added, but Scully interrupted him. "Oh, God, Mulder, I'm going to -- oh, God!" she heard herself cry out, then her own cries were drowned out by his as he climaxed inside her. She sat upright as long as she could while Mulder finished, then collapsed on top of him. Mulder's arms went around her in a gentle embrace. His chest felt cool against her flushed cheek, and Scully smiled as he played idly with her hair. Countless thoughts tumbled through her head, but she was reluctant to break the spell by voicing any of them. Instead, she settled on an inane observation. "Why the hell did I take a shower?" Mulder's chuckle was interrupted by the sharp trilling of the telephone on Scully's nightstand. They both jumped, and their eyes met. As the phone rang a second time, Scully held Mulder's gaze. She felt -- *knew* -- that answering the phone would allow the "real world" back into their lives, and acknowledge that the last six hours had only been another step in their journey. The phone rang a third time. Mulder reached up, lightly touched her cheek, his expression tender and tortured. "Answer the phone, Dana." She nodded and reached past Mulder's head to pick up the receiver on the fourth ring. "Hello?" "Good morning, Agent Scully," came Assistant Director Walter Skinner's terse reply. "I was wondering if you and Agent Mulder were planning on showing up for our meeting this morning." <> she thought. <> Her hands trembling a little, Scully switched the phone to her other ear and looked down at Mulder. "Uh, sir, I, um -- " She looked at the clock. 9:30! She abruptly rolled off Mulder, sat up next to him. "I must have overslept." "I see," was her supervisor's only reply. "I suggest you get here as quickly as possible, Agent. I don't want your ... tardiness ... to be construed by some as lack of interest in your work." "No, sir," Scully managed to say. "I mean, yes, sir. I'll be there soon." She heard a brief pause, then another question. "Do you know where Agent Mulder is? There's no answer at his house, and his cell phone is turned off." Scully glanced over her shoulder at her partner. "I, uh, I mean, uh, no, sir. I imagine he's on his way in. He probably forgot to turn his phone on. You know Mulder," she finished weakly, getting a light smack on the bottom for her remark. "Mmmm hmm," was Skinner's noncommittal answer. "Agent Scully, are you alright?" he asked, a note of real concern behind the question. "I know the last few months have been ... difficult." "Yes, sir," she replied firmly, reaching for Mulder's hand and interlacing her fingers with his. Squeezing tightly, she added, "Actually, I haven't felt this good in a long time. Maybe I just needed some rest." "Very well, Scully, I'll see you soon." After she hung up the phone, Scully sat there for a long moment, staring at it, unwilling to turn around. Gathering her resolve and still looking down, she said in a low voice, "Get dressed, Mulder." He sat up behind her, tried to draw her into an embrace. Although every instinct within her wanted to be drawn in, to find refuge in that newfound haven, Scully managed to throw up the walls she knew they both needed to stay sane, to stay alive. "Don't, Mulder. We've been here already." She broke free of his arms, stood up, and turned to face him. She thought her heart might shatter at the pain and loss on his face. She bent down to kiss him lightly, her hands brushing his hair and her breasts just grazing his chest. She straightened up. "Let's go to work." Mulder nodded mutely. As he went into the living room to gather up his clothes, Scully pulled a suit from her closet and dressed swiftly. She was in the bathroom brushing her hair when he reappeared in the doorway, keys in hand. "I -- I'm leaving," Mulder said. She laid the brush down and turned to face him. When she met his gaze, Scully realized her eyes were swimming with tears. She blinked them back and stepped into Mulder's outstretched arms. As he clutched her tightly, she tried to memorize everything -- the softness of his sweatshirt, the muffled beat of his heart in her ear, and the sweet smell of him, mingled now with the heady, unmistakable scent of the love they had made. "Scully, I -- " Mulder began. "No." She interrupted him by squeezing him once more, then stepping back. "No more words, Mulder." She refused to look up at him as he said, simply and painfully, "I love you, Scully." Nor did she look up as Mulder slipped away, out the bedroom door, then across the living room, and finally, out of her apartment. It was only after she heard the clear click of the door latching behind him that she could raise her head and face herself in the mirror. The tears slipped unchecked down her cheeks now. It was only then that she spoke aloud to her empty apartment. "I love you, too, Mulder. "I love you, too."