Gossamer: VA     
Rated: G      
Spoilers: 6th Season
Keywords: none                
Summary: Sequel to Dead Channels 



Pyrrhic
by MD1016      


"How long is this tension going to last?"

With her face pressed against the cool plexiglass of the plane's
window, Scully continued to stare out at the cottony clouds below. 
She couldn't look at him, so she simply shrugged.

"We can't work this way, you know."

Fine, she thought.  Then he could quit.  She wasn't the one who
fucked the Hag - capital H - and screwed over their partnership in
the process.

"We have to be able to talk, Scully.  You're going to have to
acknowledge me at some point."

She closed her eyes.  "Go to sleep, Mulder."

"It's eleven in the morning."

"Then let me sleep."

"We need to resolve this before we get to DC -"

"Leave me alone!"  She hadn't meant to snap at him quite so loudly. 
The woman in front of Mulder turned and glared at her from
between the seats.  

It worked, though.  Mulder shifted and stayed quiet.  But his
silence pissed her off more than his nagging.

"You know, if I was doing Krycek, you'd never speak to me again."

"It's hardly the same thing, Scully.  You'd never 'do' Krycek.  He
murdered your sister."  She couldn't help the flinch.  Mulder added
in a low voice, "Don't play this game with me, Scully, you won't
win."
 
She scoffed.  "Well, that much is obvious.  When it comes to Diana
Fowley, there's no competition."

Mulder sighed and pressed his head back into his seat.  "Jesus! 
We're still on this argument?  Don't you ever get bored of being
mad at me?"

"It doesn't seem so."

From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of his smirk. He
leaned closer to her and said conspiratorially: "I thought it might
have something to do with the proposal you made last night, and
the subsequent rejection."

Heat rose up her neck and across her cheeks.  "Mulder, this has
nothing to do with my ego."

"Oh!"  A vicious grin smeared across his face.  "This has everything
to do with your ego.  And quite frankly, Scully, I never pegged you
for being territorial." 

"And I never pegged your for a misogynist bastard.  Talk about
egos!  Every day I put myself on the line for you, because I believe
in the work, and I TRUST you.  But now you are taking liberties
and not being careful.  You are ignoring warnings because they are
inconvenient to your sex life-"

"Oh, pu-lease!"

"And you're putting both of us in jeopardy."

"I told you, Diana isn't going to sell us out."

"Are you sure, Mulder?"  She met his gaze and leaned in.  "Are you
absolutely sure?  Because if anything happens to me, or anyone in
my family because of your relationship with that woman, I will walk
away, Mulder.  From you and the work.  And you will never, never
hear from me again."  The smug grin on his face melted, and he
stared into her with grave seriousness that made her heart beat
faster, and her mouth instantly dry.  "Be certain, Mulder.  Be
absolute."  

He looked away from her, then, and stared at the head rest before
him.  He was thinking.  Good.  Let him consider, and worry a little.

Minutes later he cleared his throat.  "She's not a threat," he
asserted.  "Not to you, not to the work.  It's not even a relationship,
she has no control over me or -"

"Mulder, as much as it kills me to say this, I wish you were in love
with her.  Because it hurts me to think the X-Files and I come
second to your penis.  I thought I meant more to you than that."

"You do."

"I deserve better than that."

Reluctantly, he admitted: "You do."  Then he looked at her. 
"Scully, you...you and the X-Files...mean everything to me."

"No.  Not everything.  You've made that clear."

He jerked his head away from her, pulled the flap of his safety belt
and practically sprinted down the aisle.  The satisfaction that Scully
thought she ought to feel was little more than a nervous tickle in her
cramping stomach.  The plane bumped through some mild
turbulence and the fasten seat belt sign dinged on above her head,
but Mulder didn't return to his seat.



It was nearly an hour later before he emerged from the aft lav.  He
dropped down beside her, and without lifting his eyes from his
knees, he whispered harshly, "Fine.  I'll end it.  Tonight."

"Thank you -" she started, but he cut her off.

"Don't talk to me for a while, Scully."

They didn't speak for the rest of the flight.  And when they finally
pulled up to Mulder's apartment, he got out and slammed the car
door without saying good-bye.  

Scully's father once told her, when she was very young, that in war
even victory tastes like defeat.  As a child she had studied the
joyous black and white photos of post-WWII parades and parties,
and never understood how that could possibly be. 

She watched her partner disappear into his building without so
much a glance back.  Childhood never seemed so far away.

End.