From: Julie Catherine Coy Subject: Promise by Julie Coy Source: direct Title: Promise Author: Julie Catherine Coy Email:juliecatherinecoy@lycos.com Rating: PG-13 Category: Vignette, MSR Spoilers: The Truth Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any of the following characters from The X-Files; Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner Summary: Mulder and Scully's thoughts during their reunion in 'The Truth' Feedback: Of course -- it's what I live for. I accept anything. Positive and negative criticism, one sentence comments and sentence by sentence analysis. Author's Notes: Thanks always first to God. I love you. And this one is dedicated to my Grandma Coy who died during the time in which this vignette was composed. RIP. Love you too xxx I make that stupid Hannibal Lecter joke and immediately feel like a complete asshole. The look of fear and hurt wracking her pale, worried features as she searches Skinner's for answers regarding my strange behaviour, wrenches my heart til I choke. What else can I do to cover my shame but laugh? I do it quietly. Almost into myself. Just another dumbass 'Mulder quip'. I get the reaction I was expecting, and probably deserve. She scolds me, and Skinner looks about ready to floor me. She tells me it's not funny to see me put on this act - the very act that's saving my cowardly ass right now. A facade I don't owe her. I should be holding out for her, standing up to them, holding on to any scrap of dignity I can afford. Showing her I'm the man she once clung to for safety when the world was falling apart around us - not the broken, sorry son of a bitch that I've become. Dear God, maybe they're right, that I do deserve the harshest punishment - for failing her. Still, as I continue to share the same air with her, it is an act that I am finding harder and harder to maintain. Finally, throwing any remaining resolve and caution to the wind, I give in to the desires of my heart, which has somehow, in the last few precious minutes, found its way into my throat. I move slowly into the light, shimmering with dust, and hear myself telling her something about what'll happen if I don't put on my little act. But as I move closer to her, smelling her desire, intoxicating my senses, I feel my feet speeding up, my body racing to hers. I grasp her face and lose control of any other focus but sating the insatiable want, rooted deep in my soul. I can't even believe, even fathom that this is it. She is here. Oh God, I'd almost forgotten what this felt like. The release of burning tension melding with sweet expectancy to conjour the most beautiful, divine sensations imaginable. And sweet Jesus, she's kissing me so hard, reciprocating my every thought in action, thrusting her hot, hungry tongue into my mouth. She strokes my face and I push my fingers through her gorgeous hair in response. As much as I am living for this moment right now, it's all I can damn well do not to run her up the nearest vertical surface. And I don't think Skinner would appreciate it. Shit. Skinner. The reminder of who I am frantically groping my lover in front of snaps me back into reality and I pull her into an extended embrace before looking at her promise in my eyes. "C'mere you big, bald, beautiful." I gesture playfully to our ex boss, "The only thing you'll be kissing, Mulder, is your sweet ass, Goodbye." He sighs, poker faced, resigning impatiently to just another 'Mulder quip'. ------ "I could smell you coming Clarice." He makes some stupid Hannibal Lecter joke and my heart breaks from the heavy burden of frustration, anger and bitter anguish. I just got him back! My God, what have they done to him?! The words flood through my entire body at an agonizing speed until my knees grow weak. I look frantically to Skinner for answers, support, a grain of assurance that I'm not the only one seeing the deterioration, occurring in front of my eyes, of the man, the memory, I have so desperately held on to for too long now. Then I hear it. The bittersweet music of soft laughter in my ears, yet it rings as loud and clear as a siren wailing in the night. My head spins from the dizzying roundabout that forces my mind and body to spiral out of control, barely containing themselves in the storm of contrasting emotions. Confusion. Realisation. Relief. Joy. Anger. I want to laugh and cry, but instead I do neither and act impulsively as the scolding mother. Reining him in. Doing what comes natural. Never acting on what my heart truly desires. But as he walks into the light, moving towards me in the haze of the gloomy, dust ridden enclosure, I am finding it harder and harder to keep my organ in check. It pounds harder and harder, climbs higher and higher. I swallow earnestly as it makes its way into my tight throat. My mouth is bone dry, my palms suddenly cold and clammy, yet my cheeks fiery and. God, yes, I'm blushing furiously in front of Skinner. Anxiously, I try to cover my tracks, scraping the barrel of self control, long ago tipped, to spill out my blatant desire, wild and untamed, setting the icy ground beneath us aflame. But he senses it, closing in quickly, like a cunning beast captures its helpless prey. Time stops, as any chances of turning back fade into non-existence along with our surroundings. My feet remain cemented to the floor as I freeze for a moment. I would be fumbling like a clumsy teenager if I could move right now. But it isn't just his clamping grasp around my cheeks which is holding me in my stunned posture. Is this real, or just another mirage of what I know to be the truth. And then suddenly, and oh. so sweetly. I realise that this is it. I am finally home. He loosens his grip on me and begins to tenderly relax his lips against mine, matching his rhythm against the gesture of his large, gentle, hands, stroking my skin carefully. I climb back onto the bike and ease my own small digits upwards to mirror his actions. My defences are slipping away, faster and faster as my soul sprouts the wings of a full grown Eagle, taking flight whilst my body begins to lose control. Control that I can't honestly confess to own anymore, to want anymore. My lips take on a life of their own and begin to press harder against his, craving hungrily for more of him. I feel him shudder and I revel in the knowledge that my claim is not lost on him. He shifts slightly to push one hand upwards through my hair... that's right. you know what I love. Yet, even with my eyes shut firmly in rapture, my heightened senses have picked up on another presence nearby. I know Mulder realises the same thing as he slowly begins to pull his lips away from mine, creating a small, yet audible noise of suction. We enjoy each other affectionately for a further few seconds with one final light peck and a tight squeeze, making sure this isn't just some beautiful dream that I know we have been replaying and replaying for so many long months. When we finally pull away I realise I am flushed, not just from our passionate encounter but because Skinner stands just feet away with an uncomfortable expression complementing his dry demeanour, exacerbated by his concern for Mulder's current position. I feel a little ashamed and share my new skin colour with my shoes whilst I hear Mulder making his own little precocious quip. Unassuming. Innocent. I should have guessed. He's still the man I let go. The man I'd wait a lifetime for. I know now I'd do it all over again. He turns to me, and as I look at him, promise in my eyes, I see my own reflection, one of truth. One of hope.