From: "Turkey Delish" Date: Mon, 23 Apr 2001 02:39:42 -0700 Subject: Purple Source: direct PURPLE AUTHOR: The X-Piig CATEGORY: SR RATING: PG (approaching on R, I suppose) SPOILERS: None KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance (at LAST!!) SUMMARY: Some impulses are too strong to resist. DISCLAIMER: Please Chris believe... I write this X-Files fanfic... for no profit... readers, you see... they do not be-long to me... they're by 1013... (to the tune of "Man on the Moon", by REM.) NOTES: At the end... it'll all make sense by then. Unless you haven't already read the first two parts, Green and Orange. Now git. FEEDBACK: Loosing motivation... trying to write something new... and I some feedback to do it... I'll always read that stuff... I'll never get enough... (to the tune of "Loosing My Religion", by REM.) e-mail: thexpiig@hotmail.com * * * Waiting for the tone of an arriving elevator, Scully wondered again how Mulder had managed to convince her to let him come to work. He was standing beside her now, fidgeting and beginning to look pale. His unique brand of logic had appeared to make sense when directed at her earlier. Now his concerns at his absence arousing Skinner's suspicion seemed like an excuse more than anything. As per usual, nothing involving Mulder would be simple. In the lifeless parcade, the elevator's high-pitched signal echoed and faded. A.D. Skinner had called Mulder's cell phone earlier and asked him to be in his office ASAP -- never mind that he was already late for work, and his partner had called in absent. Scully prayed briefly that life would hold off on the obstacles for just one morning. Religion became difficult when at least ten other agents felt the need to ride the same elevator car, just a Mulder was beginning to look particularly feverish. Pressed against the back wall, her arm lightly brushing her partner's, Scully felt him tense, then shiver almost imperceptibly. Cursing life, cursing her own poor judgement at listening to his "rational" suggestion, she placed a gentle hand on his arm and glanced up at his strained profile. Small beads of sweat began to form at his temples as first one, then another passenger filed off at his or her respective floor, without glancing back at the strange events unfolding in the car. By the time the number of agents was down to one short, bald and bored looking man, Mulder was gripping the railing behind him, white knuckled and shivering noticeably. The hand not keeping this death grip covered his face, massaging his forehead. Scully bit her lip as the doors opened on the top floor, and the man began to shuffle into the hallway. The aftershock had been raging for upwards of five minutes, and she was literally counting the seconds until her partner's resolve weakened and he gave in. She was doing everything in her power to ensure the incident would not have an audience. The instant the doors closed he was turning her, holding her, pushing her up against the control panel. Partly relieved, partly alarmed, Scully met his lips half way on his descent, offering what she could to ease him and forgetting momentarily that this situation was partially his own fault. Now familiar with the affliction's patterns, she met his kiss stride for stride, tasting and sucking, melting in with a thin tether to reality, until he tensed and stumbled away, just as the door opened on their floor. Understanding, despite his frustration and embarrassment, how close they had come to making the event a public display, Mulder made a rapid and sincere effort to compose himself before stepping out into the hallway and toward Skinner's office. Scully was already out of the elevator, exuding professionalism and walking slowly, allowing him to catch up. Glancing back, she was relieved to find he looked decent and unfazed, despite what she was certain was going on in his head. "You're sure you want to be here?" she asked in a low voice. "No," he rasped, then cleared his throat, "but I can't let Skinner suspect anything." By then, however, they had reached the A.D.'s office and had no choice but to enter. Kim ushered the agents in and they sat in their respective chairs, and while their superior registered surprise at Scully's presence, he did not comment. Mulder had begun to shift uncomfortably in his chair when Skinner cleared his throat and spoke at last. "Am I to assume you DON'T have your report on the MacKeigan case, Agent Mulder?" his voice had a weary tone to it, as if this was to be expected. It was then that it occurred to both agents WHY Mulder had been in a bar last night. Still finishing a previous case's paperwork, and somewhat occupied by the evening's events, Scully had forgotten her partner's meeting with the latest insider. Apparently, her partner had too, until Skinner had made his reason for calling him in all too clear. Mulder stilled in his chair, a flicker of uncertainty appearing in his stony expression. Sitting up straight, he prepared to launch into an explanation of why he was late, what happened in the bar when his contact had not appeared, and why he felt the sudden need to be as far away from this office as possible... and drew a complete blank. "I, uh, sir, I... MacKeigan didn't show." He stammered, slumping again and staring at Skinner's desk. Scully observed all this with a growing feeling of dread. Usually her partner would be able to cover for, or explain a gap in his memory. Although the current situation warranted more discretion than usual, it was disconcerting nonetheless that Mulder was too agitated to even offer a flimsy cover story. Skinner wouldn't let them leave without some kind of an explanation, and right now leaving was the only thing either agent wanted to do. Sighing in frustration, Skinner continued to interrogate Mulder, as the agent became increasingly restless. Five minutes passed, Scully witnessing the progression of her partner's symptoms as their superior pushed on mercilessly. She had no reason to participate, and feared that anything she said in his defence would call attention to the fact that she also no explanation for the previous night. She did, however, recall a series of events she would rather not reveal to the A.D. Mulder, however, was now reaching the end of his will power. Scully realized something had to be done, and soon. "Sir..." she interrupted, hesitant. "Do you have something to add, Agent Scully?" Skinner snapped, his anger mounting. These agents had always been difficult, but never quite this infuriating. Clearing her throat, she continued, "I think you're overreacting, sir." This did nothing to diffuse the situation. Skinner fixed his uncomprehending eyes on Scully. She sent an icy look back, watching Mulder carefully in her peripheral vision. He was doubled over now, head in his hands, elbows braced on his knees, breathing heavily. The Assistant Director, who appeared unaware of the agent's suffering, prepared to vehemently defend his wholly justified reaction. "I'll have you know that --" Interrupted again, this time by a loud moan from Mulder's corner of the desk, the A.D.'s expression changed from anger to one of confusion, then concern. Scully, meanwhile, was barely restraining herself from leaping from her chair and dragging her partner out of the building. He was sitting up now, back straight, fingers gripping the armrests. Eyes screwed shut, he breathed deeply and bit into his lower lip. Tension rising in the room, Scully looked from her partner, then to Skinner, and back at Mulder's contorted face. With another brief glance at their superior, her hand shot out and closed around a handful of Mulder's collar. Closing her eyes, she jerked his face toward hers and their lips met. Hard. If not for the rush of hot blood in her ears, Scully would have heard Skinner's sharp gasp, followed by a strangled attempt to express his confusion. The agents, meanwhile, were locked helplessly in the most humiliating moment of time and space. Only the presence of the Assistant Director kept Mulder from pinning his partner to the desk. Still, the unwelcome observer could not prevent the affected from leaning farther into the kiss, and parting Scully's lips in a hot and urgent gesture. Her hand remained on his collar, yet now it pushed rather than pulled. She was shocked to find that the feel of Skinner's horrified gaze on her was not enough to keep her from falling, slipping into what should have been another innocent "therapy" kiss. her mind chanted. Yet her body reacted only by returning Mulder's kiss, sending her liquid-hot tongue to meet his. Pressing, moving lips danced and Scully realized only time would save them from COMPLETE humiliation. She began to slide further beyond the limit of self control, and began to plead mentally that the aftershock would end. It had to end. Soon. At last, Mulder tensed, shuddered and bit down hard on her lip. Ignoring the pain, Scully took the opportunity to pull back and roughly shove her partner into his chair. He clawed at one armrest again and began to suck in giant gulps of air. Skinner merely stared in utter shock at the two agents, his gaze shifting rapidly from one to the other as if deciding which one had gone more insane. After several minutes, Scully tasted blood and tenderly felt her bleeding lip, still looking intently at Mulder, who was now breathing evenly with his face in his hands. "I think you two owe me an explanation." * * * The two agents sat, side by side in their car seats, watching the entrance to the George and Dragon bar. Scully glanced at her partner's impassive face, then back at the building across the street. Once they had explained the situation to Skinner, he had immediately expressed concern and sent them to investigate. Scully was surprised he had accepted their explanation, and dismissed them without reprimand for their unprofessional behaviour. "You couldn't identify what you found in my bloodstream." Mulder said, more of a confirmation than a question. "The substance was synthetic... beyond that I know nothing. I'm fairly certain it's what affected your memory loss and reaction to impulses." Scully assured him. He mumbled something unintelligible and reached for the door handle, shuddering slightly as he did so. Still ashamed of his earlier actions, he had been quiet throughout the blood tests which had eventually led them here, the bar he had visited the night before. More than anything, the fact that his last memory was of entering this place convinced both agents it held a key to explaining the affliction's origins. "You okay?" Scully asked, stepping out into the street. Mulder nodded, and followed her. He also realized the aftershocks had decreased significantly in intensity and frequency, suggesting he would be free of attacked in a matter of hours. This knowledge was accompanied by a surge of relief, along with a vague and unexplainable feeling of disappointment. "The toxin was either ingested or injected, so I don't think I need to remind you-" "-not to eat or drink anything, yeah, yeah." He finished for her, rolling his eyes. "We should speak to the owner." She suggested. Walking down the stairs into the bar's dim interior, Mulder noticed a tall, vaguely familiar man moving toward them. The agent was suddenly alert, as a blurred and uncertain memory worked its way through the previous night's fog. This man now passing them, with jet black hair and drooping eyelids, constantly staring at his scuffed grey shoes. MacKeigan. This was his contact, who he had been sent to meet with. Mulder now recalled sitting down next to this man, MacKeigan. The contact had swivelled around on his barstool to face the agent, "accidentally" bumping Mulder's left arm in the process. The bruise was still there, and upon closer inspection he noticed a tiny needle puncture in the centre. MacKeigan had done this, he had drugged him last night, and convinced him to leave. Mulder recalled, halting his descent into the George and Dragon. Grabbing his partner's arm, he motioned toward the man at the top of the stairs, indicating they should pursue him. Hand on his gun, Mulder reached the top of the stairs ahead of Scully, and rounded the corner... only to have a sharp needle jabbed into his shoulder. MacKeigan, who had recognized both agents instantly, was attempting one again to interfere with their plans. Throwing the empty syringe into the alley he had been waiting in, the tall man fled. Scully paused when she realized her partner had been hit. Mulder, however, had recovered from the initial blow and now urged her to pursue MacKeigan. Reassured that the injury was considerably less than life-threatening, she did so, managing to overtake the contact despite her height an footwear disadvantages. The victory was short-lived as the suspect stopped abruptly and ducked around, bringing another needle into Scully's upper hip. Cursing herself for not reacting faster, she fell to the side, her gun clattering across the concrete. This MacKeigan retrieved, and held on her as he backed slowly away. "Better help your partner. Agent Mulder's hurt, isn't he? Go on, go to him." He chuckled between breaths, voice mocking and cruelly amused. Scully got up, fully intending to pursue the suspect again. Instead, before she could do so she began to feel an overwhelming urge to return to her partner. Besides, she rationalized, the man had her weapon, she was defenceless. Even as she made this decision it registered that she was already walking back toward the George and Dragon. Sighing, she noted her head was beginning to ache more than her bruised hip. When she returned to the entrance, Mulder was sitting with his back against the Fernwood hotel's brick wall, staring solemnly at the ground. He glanced up at the appearance of her tiny black shoes, and spoke. "That was it." "That was what?" Scully asked absently. "The substance in the syringes... the tall guy was MacKeigan. He shot me up with the same stuff last night." He said, pulling his sleeve back to show the mark. Comprehension hit Scully, and she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. The effect was powerful, they both knew that. And if they were BOTH infected in such close proximity to each other, the results would be... explosive. "Why?" She asked dully, sliding down the wall beside her partner. "To keep me, us, occupied. Make sure we don't get involved in... whatever he's doing." Mulder answered, running an unsteady hand through his hair. For several minutes, both were silent. Then, "We have to get away from each other." Mulder chuckled, "Scully, I'm flattered. Are you struck by this impulse often, or am I just particularly attractive when I'm drugged?" She snorted, and smacked his arm. Then somehow she was holding his hand, squeezing it and weaving her fingers between his. Somehow the building headache was gone, replaced by an almost magnetic force pulling her closer to her partner. She looked up to him for an explanation, reassurance, anything... and met a pair of dark, hungry eyes. This was no aftershock, and anything that followed would be no therapy kiss. She wanted... she wanted to... The wail of an ambulance barrelling past broke their concentration momentarily. Scully leapt up and stumbled backwards into a short, purple-haired teenage girl. The agents apologized hastily and turned to see Mulder rising from the ground, looking apprehensive again. Purple light from the neon sign bathed the sidewalk in its surreal glow. The partners stood still, staring intently at each other. "Go." Said Mulder. She backed away slowly at first, then turned and ran toward the car. Both agents doubled over simultaneously as they were wracked by intense pain. Scully stumbled, then continued to the car, unlocking the door and slipping inside. Folding her arms on the steering wheel, she lay down her burning head and moaned deeply. Minutes passed, and she realized it was only a matter of time before Mulder followed. She moved the key toward the ignition, and paused again, horrified to discover that she could not bring herself to drive away. The impulse to stay was too strong, the poison now coursing through her veins. Eventually, her partner entered the car, and the headache left with his long, drawn out sigh. She shuddered in her seat. "I tried." Scully said. "I know." Mulder replied, then added, "My apartment's closer." With that, both agents reluctantly gave in to the toxin. Scully started the engine and pulled into the street. At some point during the ride, the radio was turned on. Sweet, slow strains of Sarah McLachlan's "Possession" worked their way into the agents' fevered brains. Scully felt a warm hand land on her leg, and driving became difficult. By now the object was not resisting, but steering safely to Mulder's apartment building. Syrupy ripples of song washed through the vehicle, and the driver's vision began to waver under the strain. The tension. "... and I would be the one... to hold you down... kiss you so hard... I'll take your breath away... and after I'll... wipe away the tears... just close your eyes..." The car came to a screeching halt outside 2630 Hegal Place and Mulder tore his gaze, and hands, away from his partner long enough to exit the vehicle. He then grasped her hand and led her toward the building's entrance. Despite the urgency both felt, neither ran. And neither spoke, as if words would prevent or delay resolution. Resistance was not even considered at this point, both intent on achieving only one goal. Scully pounded the call button with the heel of her palm, then looked up at Mulder, who was still gripping her hand. The agents breathed deeply, a combination of their rising anticipation and mad dash to their destination. When the elevator doors crawled sluggishly apart, Scully pushed her partner roughly backwards, reversing their earlier position at the Bureau. Pressed against him, her arms wrapped securely around his necked, she stopped inches away from Mulder's lips. Then he closed the distance, leaning down into a passionate, eager, exquisite kiss. They drank each other now, breathed each other, tasted, felt, absorbed each other. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, they were still locked together. Mulder moved them forward, and leaned his palm on the "door open" button. He tongue slid into her mouth, she gave and received, her bruised, bitten lip forgotten. They shuddered together, and the kiss went deep, deeper. Finally the two broke, and stumbled into the hallway, falling toward Mulder's apartment. At some point they did reach door 42, but chose not to enter, instead continuing their tradition of hallway romance. Scully was now pinned between her partner and the door's dark, smooth wood. Her legs were wrapped firmly around his body, their faces level and devouring each other. Small, slender hands gripped Mulder's black trenchcoat, and he moaned her name, pushing harder against the door. "Key... Mulder..." Scully panted between slow, fiery kisses. He reached for, and held the key, aiming it blindly for the lock. His hand connected with the door frame, and the small slice of metal fell to the floor. Mulder cursed briefly, but made not effort to retrieve it. He only shivered, and moved to kiss the smooth, pale skin of his partner's neck, feeling (and ignoring) a distant sense of deja-vu. Scully sighed, then pressed her forehead to his, telling him she wanted him, needed him now. Their lips met again, and they continued this way, breathing together, kissing hungrily until... "Sweet Jesus!" a voice called from behind Mulder. The agents froze, and turned their heads slowly around to meet the eyes of a particularly disgusted young woman. It was the "teenager" Scully had run into earlier, who was evidently several years older than she had appeared, and who also lived in the apartment across from Mulder's. The partners attempted to regain some composure, now standing slightly apart and all but pulsing with need. "Look," the woman said, brushing a purple lock from her face, "I know how DIFFICULT it is to get past that final little door- shaped obstacle, but for your sake I'd suggest moving the party INSIDE... before you have an audience." With that, the door to apartment 40 swung shut, and the agents stood, looking at each other silently for several minutes. The sound of the purple-haired woman's Matthew Good Band CD broke the trance, and Mulder reached for the key he had dropped only moments before. Scully was still standing with her back to the door, looking more embarrassed than eager. The incident had sobered them temporarily, but already the substance's inescapable effect was returning. Mulder hand felt electric on her arm, and she found herself sliding again. Her partner, meanwhile, had managed at last to open the door. Now, with his final reserves of will power, he pulled his hand away from Scully and quickly shut her outside, locking and chaining the door. He had a plan that would keep them from destroying themselves this way. While his partner stood, gaping at the wooden barrier he had abruptly created, Mulder was searching for his pair of FBI-issued handcuffs. He found them, and succeeded in chaining himself to a heating grate in the floor. Scully, by now, was frantic in her efforts to find her spare key, still confused by her partner's actions. She managed to unlock the door in time to her the muffled *snick* of closing handcuffs. Groaning in frustration as the chain halted her progress, she pleaded for an explanation. "I'm not going to let this thing control us." Mulder told her, tossing the handcuff key in the general direction of his desk. Turning toward his partner's voice, he didn't see the bright metal glint as this key bounced off the wood and through an open window. "When... THIS... happens, it's not going to be as a result of some unidentified drug." He waited for that to sink in, then added, "I want to at least remember it in the morning." Scully's flushed face appeared in the space between door and frame. Mulder was lying spread-eagle on the floor, restrained too far away from the door to undo the chain and let her in. She had to admit, the plan made some sense, although the altered portion of her brain did not agree. Pressing her face against the dark wood, she snaked an arm through the gap as far as it would go, and grasped Mulder's hand. "Thank you." She whispered. He turned his head to look at the door, and she could read the relief in his eyes, and strange glint of curiosity. Scully felt her partner's grip tighten, and she sighed. Disaster averted, for yet another night. The comfort she took in that knowledge was soon overwhelmed by a hot spike of need, and strong urge to be beyond their wooden obstacle. Mulder's relieved expression changed to one of frustrations. The drug's effect was taking hold of them once again. Suddenly the entire plan seemed pointless and contrary to their desires. Mulder jerked at the handcuffs, releasing Scully's hand long enough to reach futilely for the chain. Pain shot through their minds, and when the wave passed they found their hands linked firmly once again. "Damnit!" Mulder yelled, and pulled harder on the cuffs, his wrists already bruised an swollen from the continued effort. Scully pressed harder against the door, reaching for her partner. She moaned at the increasing pressure inside her skull, and pure frustration at their lack of physical contact. Far past coherent thought, the only sensation that registered was hot, urgent wanting. They were both lost again, and farther now than the first time. Neither heard the pathetic sounds they made, or realized they were speaking random thoughts aloud. "Mulder, I want..." "Scully..." "Goddamn door..." "I can't... I need..." "Why... did we..." This continued for minutes, hours, weeks for al they were aware of. Sometimes they would yell, often they could only manage hoarse, choking whispers. Tears and sweat dripped from Scully's face onto her jacket and blouse, her shoulder hurt from being hit repeatedly against the wood. Mulder's wrist was bleeding now. Each time a bolt of lightning hit them their hands would grip each other, by the time they came to somewhat their palms were slick with sweat. To say that they questioned the worth of the ordeal is an understatement. Not long into the night they were convinced anything, absolutely anything would be better than the situation they were in now. Mulder whimpered some twisted form of comfort at Scully, she gave some semblance of a declaration of love in return. Neither hesitated to describe their current state of lust to the other. At some point, they regained enough of their senses to maintain a relatively coherent conversation. "Why... the HELL... did you handcuff yourself to a heating grate?" Scully asked evenly. "I don't remember." Mulder replied honestly. "This is your fault." "THIS is MacKeigan's fault, actually." "Mulder, I wanted you long before MacKeigan and his wonder-drugs." He chuckled. "Now she tells me." "Mulder, I love you." "Scully, I love you." "So I heard." "Yes, well it isn't as if we'll remember any of this." Scully leaned her cheek against the door and sighed. Another blade cut through their minds and she grimaced, tightening her hold on him again. They were drifting again, and about to launch into another attempted resolution when the tone of an arriving elevator caught Scully's attention. She wiped sweat out of her eyes and squinted at the familiar figure walking down the hall. Frohike stopped in front of her kneeling form, and spoke, "Did either of you drop a handcuff key outside the building?" END-ish * * * NOTES: Gaaaaaah!! It's done!! The long-long-long-long awaited final instalment of the Impulsive series. NOW, for some note-age. First, since this doesn't have a REAL plot-song (I'll get to "Possesssion" in a sec.), the "tying-together" element is the elevator tone, if you hadn't guessed. "Possession" did NOT, in any way, inspire this. I say that because I write songfics so often I'm quite proud when I write a "normal" fanfic. The Sarah McLachlan song happened to be playing while I was writing, and I was short a car scene... well, an interesting car scene, anyway. Hey, it's a good song, and it fit. Oh, and the Purple-haired girl is me, several years and several universes down the road. Tee-hee, cameo. The elevator scene IN Mulder's apartment wasn't supposed to be there, but (man, I feel like I'm describing episode outtakes or something) it squeezed into the final cut so I'm hoping you folks will enyoy it. MAN that's a lot of notes. Thanks for stopping by anyhoo, and have fun, try not to kill me for grossly misinterpreting the Mulder/Scully relationship... and always listen to the voices that encourage feedback. http://www.geocities.com/thexpig42/index.html It's about Mulder, Scully, and maybe a lickle iced tea. Home of the world's first non-fiction fanfiction.