From: Dhcmoon Date: 07 Aug 1999 03:19:23 GMT Subject: NEW: Precipice by Sister Moon (post "Grotesque" fic) (1/1) TITLE: PRECIPICE (A post "Grotesque" story) (1/1) AUTHOR: Sister Moon ARCHIVE: Yes, I'd love it, but e-mail me to let me know where it's going. E-MAIL: Dhcmoon@aol.com RATING: NC-17, for language and sexual situations. Please be aware that the sex herein is not described very graphically--but it's not snuggly and sweet, either. You've been warned. CATEGORY: RST, Angst and more Angst, DAL (Always, no matter what ) SPOILERS: Grotesque SUMMARY: After the events in the episode "Grotesque", Mulder is still carrying a murderous rage inside himself. He's not dealing well with it . DISCLAIMERS: These characters do not belong to me but to 1013 Productions, Fox, Chris Carter, David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson. I needed to angst them out just a little bit, but I'll return them safely I promise. FEEDBACK: I'd really appreciate feedback on this one....it's my only attempt at first-person Mulder, and I'd love to know what ya thought...... AUTHOR'S NOTE: As always, this goes out to Dee and Marina. And a special thanks to Sheri for her guidance and very constructive criticism. "Precipice" (1/1) It's been two weeks since I apprehended Bill Patterson for the murder of his partner. I thought the nightmares would've stopped by now, but they haven't. If anything, they're getting worse. It's getting harder to wake up in the morning and go to work and pretend to Scully that everything's coming up fucking roses. Every day she's been looking at me with concern in those baby blues and asking me if I'm sure I'm alright. Up until this afternoon, I've been curtly but politely assuring her that I'm-fine-Scully-no-problems-here-nope-not-me. But when she asked me today, she took my hand and squeezed it, and that simple touch threatened to completely undo me. I wanted to grab her and hold on to her like a lifeline and tell her-- "No, I'm *not* alright, I'm walking around with so much rage built up inside me that I'm about ready to kill someone or maybe myself and could you just hold me, Scully, or better yet, take me home with you?......." I *wanted* to do that, but I didn't. What *did* the King of All Schmucks do? I pulled my hand out of Scully's and snapped at her, "Jesus, Scully, how many times are you gonna ask me that? I told you I'm *fine*." Then I rushed out of the office for the day, giving Scully the bullshit excuse that I had "things to do." I didn't leave fast enough to miss the look of hurt and confusion in Scully's eyes, though. What a man, huh? That image stayed vividly with me while I drove home, changed into a t-shirt and sweats and went out for an 8-mile run. Usually running is an escape for me, a way to help calm me down and clear my head. But not today. My mind won't slow down these days, not even for a minute. Awake or asleep. After my run and a long, hot shower, I pace my apartment for hours like a caged animal. It's the middle of the night before I finally decide what to do. It's the only thing I *can* do, really. I go seeking my shelter.....my safe haven....my savior when everyone and everything else fails me. I go running back to Scully. ****************** I get in my car and drive, speeding like a crackhead with 20 warrants out on him trying to elude the cops. I find myself deliberately cutting people off, hoping some asshole with road rage will have the balls to challenge me so I can jump out of my car and beat him down like a rabid dog with my bare hands. By the time I reach Scully's, my adrenaline is pumping so high, I have to resist the urge to kick her door in. I pound loudly on it instead, not giving a fuck that it's 2 a.m. and I'm probably scaring her *and* her neighbors half to death. My heart is beating so hard, it feels like it's gonna burst out of my chest. Just as I lift my fist to start pounding again, the door swings open and Scully is standing there in her pajamas, her hair tousled from sleep. She *does* look frightened--as well as furious--and so beautiful that my heart clenches. "Mulder!? What the hell---" is as far as she gets before I grab her head and kiss her roughly, pushing her backward into the apartment and up against the wall. I force my tongue past her lips and press my body against her and Jesus, I could come right there when I hear the shocked moan she releases into my mouth. Even as her tongue starts to battle fiercely with mine, I feel her hands inching up between us, her palms flat on my chest. She pushes them against me firmly, trying to break the kiss, her moan becoming a sound of protest. When I finally end the kiss to gasp for air, she pushes me away further and stares at me in astonishment, huffing for breath. "What is this, Mulder?......What is going on with you?" I stare back at her mutely, unable to find the words. She steps closer again and her hands come up on either side of my face. Her voice sounds almost frantic with worry. "Talk to me, Mulder.....tell me what's wrong---" I wrap my arms around her and rub my nose against her soft hair, then bury it in the crook of her neck, breathing in her warm, sleepy smell. I feel her hugging me back firmly, her voice compassionate when she says my name again. "Mulder, come inside...I'll make us some tea and you can tell me what's wrong." I grip her harder and groan "No" against her neck. I can't tell her what's going on inside me. Any sane person would be afraid of me if I spilled the angry bile I feel inside fighting to get out. Not that I give a damn what anyone thinks of me. Anyone but Scully. The thought of Scully looking at me with fear and disgust in her eyes tears me apart. "*No*?" she repeats my answer in bewilderment. "I can't, Scully....I can't," I gasp into her ear before kissing her desperately again. I feel her begin to struggle against the kiss as she did before, then she relents and kisses me back hard. Her hands grip my hair almost painfully, as if she is angry with me and with herself for giving in. When we finally break apart, I pull her by the hand further into the apartment. She resists long enough to say breathlessly, "Mulder, the front door's open." I let her hand go to push the door shut, then grab it again and pull her along with me to her bedroom. ******************* As soon as we reach her bed, I start to clumsily unbutton her pajama top. My fingers are shaking so hard, I can barely undo the buttons, but I manage and slide it off her shoulders onto the floor. I begin assaulting her with my mouth--her neck, her ears, her shoulders, her arms. I'm too crazed to even attempt any sort of technique or finesse--I just kiss, lick and bite every part of her that's exposed to me. My lips reach one nipple and I begin sucking greedily. Scully grips my hair and moans "*Yes*.....oh God, don't stop," in a breathy voice I've only fantasized about, and that makes me suck even harder. I want to please her, but my cock is so hard, it's painful, and I can't hold out any longer.....I have to be inside her now. I tug on her pajama bottom impatiently and grunt,"*Off*." She slips it off as I get out of my clothes as quickly as I can, leaving them in a heap on the floor. I back Scully onto the bed and get in next to her. When I position my body on top of hers, Scully whispers, "Wait!" just as I push my cock forcefully inside her. I see her inhale sharply and bite down on her bottom lip and I feel a pang of guilt. I haven't prepared her for this, and I know I'm hurting her, but it feels so good, I can't stop myself. God help me. I've wanted Scully so badly and for so long, and now I have her and it's so fucking incredible, I couldn't stop if I tried. I lean down and kiss her, then raise my head so I can stare into her eyes as I slam myself harder inside her. I grab a handful of her hair and pull on it as I thrust faster and deeper. She gasps, "You're hurting me," with a feral look in her eyes that is half-anger, half-lust. That look unravels my self-control even more. "Hurt me back, then," I pant. When I lean down to kiss her again, she grabs my lower lip between her teeth and bites down hard. At the moment I taste my blood on Scully's mouth, I come inside her with a violent shudder and a loud groan. She stops biting, washing the cut on my lip gently with her tongue before releasing it. I pull out of her slowly and sink down next to her, sweating, shaking, and so dizzy that the room is spinning. *********** I don't even remember closing my eyes, but I must have blacked out and slept, because when I wake up, I'm still in Scully's bed and daybreak is just beginning to light the room. I look over at Scully and feel a knife twist in my gut. She's got her back to me and is curled into a protective, fetal ball. No doubt she's subconsciously defending herself from me. I ease out of the bed and walk around it, so I can crouch down on her side of the bed and watch her sleep. She looks so peaceful and so fragile when she's asleep, with her guard down. She looks especially fragile now. She's wrapped up in the blanket so only her head, neck and arms are visible. One hand is close to her face, the palm turned up and the fingers curled delicately. I want to lean over and press my face into her palm, but I don't dare wake her. Her skin is so pale, it's translucent, and as I look closer, I'm ashamed to see several bruises on her neck and arms from my brutal kisses. Oh God, Scully, I never meant for it to happen this way. I always knew we'd be together someday--it was an unspoken promise between us--but never like this. I wanted to make love to you passionately but slowly, worshipping every inch of you reverently, the way you deserve. I wanted to hear my name on your lips as I watched you come, and to send you to sleep with soft kisses. I wanted to wake up with my arms around you and my body cocooned around yours, keeping you warm and safe. I reach one hand out tentatively to brush my fingers against her baby-soft cheek. When she recoils slightly at my touch and frowns in her sleep, the knife in my gut slides in deeper. I've destroyed everything we had---and everything we *could* have had--with a reckless, momentary lapse of self-control. I wonder miserably how she'll react to me when she wakes up and sees me staring at her like this. I suppose I'll have to consider myself lucky if she simply requests an immediate transfer out of the X-files and doesn't press rape charges against me. If she wanted to, she could present a helluva case for it. I whisper, "Scully.....I'm sorry" before I dress hurriedly and leave her, running back home like the coward I am. ****************** An hour after I get home, Scully comes for me. I'm standing in the shower, my head leaning against the wall and my eyes tightly shut, when I hear her voice calling me over the sound of the rushing water. "Mulder?" Her angry voice gets closer as she approaches the bathroom. I open my eyes and turn around to face the door, watching her silhouette through the shower curtain as she walks in. "Mulder, dammit *answer* me! You can't run away from this." God, how I wish I *could*. When I don't answer, she shoves the shower curtain aside and glares at me defiantly, holding my bathrobe out to me. "Put this on and get out of there." The expression on her face changes instantly when some of the shower spray hits her hand. "Mulder, that water is ice cold...come out of there," she says very softly, like I'm a terrified cat she's trying to coax down from a tree. It works. I turn the water off and take the robe from her, turning away to slip it on before I follow her out of the bathroom. She grabs a towel off the rack on her way out, and when I sink down on the sofa in the living room, she stands over me and drapes the towel over my head, rubbing my hair dry. I start to feel ashamed again when I feel myself getting hard. I know I have no right to, but I can't help it. Thankfully, the bathrobe covers it so Scully won't see what a low-life I am. I forced myself on her last night and practically raped her, and I still want her so bad I'm ready to explode just from the feel of her fingers touching my hair through a thick layer of terrycloth. I can't believe that after what I've done to her, she's treating me so gently that I have to fight back tears. It makes me feel even *guiltier*, if that's possible. She finishes drying my hair and tosses the towel aside, and I stare up at her helplessly, swallowing a painful lump in my throat. I wait for whatever punishment she sees fit to give me. Slap my face, Scully......kick me in the balls........take out your gun and shoot me....it's the least I deserve. Her tiny hands come up to my face and wipe at the tears now rolling down my cheeks. Her fingers brush the cut on my lip, and regret crosses her face. "Mulder......maybe now you'll tell me the truth and not placate me by telling me you're alright.....what has been going on with you these past few weeks?" I lean forward to rest my head against Scully's stomach, and put my arms lightly around her. I'm careful not to hold her too tightly; I don't want to do anything to scare her away. I'm lucky that she's even here, much less giving me a chance to explain myself. "That wasn't *me* last night, Scully," I choke out. "It wasn't me." Scully sighs and I feel her fingers rifle through my hair. "Mulder, that *was* you....it was a part of you that you were trying to suppress instead of admitting that you needed help to cope with it." I finally admit the truth to her in a shaking voice. "I have so much anger inside me, Scully. I don't know why.....it's just there and I keep waiting for it to go away and it doesn't..." She runs her hand down my hair in a petting motion. "I want you to talk to someone, Mulder....you can't deal with this alone, and I'm too emotionally involved to be objective. Will you do that?" My automatic instinct is to become defensive and say, "No, I can handle it", like I usually would. But regaining Scully's trust in me is too important. It's *the* most important thing to me right now. "Yes," I whisper against her, and hold her just a little tighter. "It will help, Mulder....I promise you." "Scully?" "Yeah?" I look up at her. "I'll never hurt you again, Scully. I swear to you, I'll never hurt you again....please believe that." She takes my face in her hands and leans down to kiss my forehead, murmuring "I believe you, Mulder," against my skin. I'm so overcome with relief, so goddamned *grateful*, that I let out a pathetic, whimpering sound, and hug her closer to me. She settles herself down on my lap and puts her arms around my neck, holding me against her. I feel the twisted knots in my stomach starting to unwind, and I can breathe again. End.