From: Kirsten Kerkhof <kirsten_xf@yahoo.com>
Date: Sat, 3 May 2003 05:57:05 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: new story submission
Source: direct

TITLE:  "A quartet of kisses"
AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * 
<kirsten_xf@yahoo.com>
CLASSIFICATION: MSR
KEYWORDS: S A R H
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: None
SUMMARY: Four kisses
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, which is probably a 
good thing ... They belong to CC, DD, GA, 1013 and Fox.
ARCHIVING: Sure. I'll do Gossamer myself, all 
others: you're welcome when you tell me where it's 
going, 'kay?
FEEDBACK: Cherished and worshipped at 
<kirsten_xf@yahoo.com> And since no one really needs 
him anymore: I have Mulders on offer as well for those of 
you who write me!
NOTES: 1) This story was based on a paragraph from an 
earlier story by me, called "In this together". In fact, the 
first paragraph here is that paragraph. 
2) There is a teenie-tiny reference to "How The Ghosts Stole 
Christmas" - a Mulder for you if you can find it.
3) The four parts of this story are completely unrelated to 
each other, nor are they in any kind of chronological 
order.
HOMEPAGE: http://www.cluich.net/x-files.htm

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Call it the one benefit of an eidetic memory: I can recall 
every single kiss Scully and I ever shared. There isn't a 
bad one among them. Some are sweet and tender, some of 
them are joyous and full of happiness. Others are relieved 
and emotional, a reinforcement of our bond after an ordeal 
we survived. And then there is the category of hot and 
passionate. We have made love with our kisses. Hot mad 
love, and all we did was kiss. But, God, what kisses they 
were ...

XxXxXxXxX

KISS 1/4 - Sweet and tender

I'm sitting in the hospital corridor, trying to make myself 
comfortable in one of the plastic chairs which are placed 
along the entire length of the corridor. It's quite obvious 
they were never meant for anyone to spend more than 
fifteen minutes in - and I've been here for well over an 
hour already. I haven't been able to feel my butt for ages 
now.
	
Scully is with her mother in the room opposite me and 
while I can't wait to join her again, I also understand that 
what they have to discuss right now is something I can't 
be present at. It's not pleasant but these are legal matters 
and they exclude me.
	
I look up from the book I'm not reading when a woman 
sits down in the chair next to me but one. She smiles 
politely and I smile back in return. I can't help but notice 
the dried-up tracks recent tears have left. I wonder what 
has happened to her, but don't ask.
	
The door to Maggie's room opens and I look up to see 
Scully exit and walk up to me. She kneels down in front of 
me, looking very pale and serious.
	
"How is she?" I ask.
	
"Doing better," she replies softly and I take her hand. "We 
think the worst may be over, but no one knows for 
certain."
	
"Can I come in yet?"
	
She shakes her head. "Mom's lawyer hasn't finished yet. I 
don't know what's taking him so long." She squeezes my 
hand softly. "I miss you in there ..."
	
I smile, kissing her fingers one by one. "I'm right here 
when you need me."
	
A faint smile manages to break through the tired, serious 
expression on her face. "I know. I'd better go back in now, 
mom needs me."
	
"Then why did you leave?"
	
She raises my hand to her face and presses a soft kiss on 
the palm. "I just needed a bit of TLC. To see you, to know 
I'm going to be okay." And with those words she rises to 
her feet and returns to the room, smiling, looking back 
only once.
	
"Is she your wife?" the woman next to me asks and I nod.
	
"She is."
	
"How long have you been married?"
	
"We've been together for twelve years now," I answer. 
We got married just a year and a half ago but in more 
ways than one we've been bound together in an 
unbreakable bond for many many years. And I find that 
much more important than the gold band and the piece of 
paper which are supposed to make it legal and official 
now.
	
"You look pretty happy together," she smiles and I laugh 
softly. She doesn't realise it, of course, but what a fine 
understatement that is.
	
"She's my life," I reply. "She's everything to me. We've 
been through things you wouldn't wish upon your worst 
enemy and it only made us love one another more."
	
She smiles weakly. Then she grows serious again. "Have 
you told her that? Has she told you?"
	
I look at the woman and find her eyes are now filled with 
tears. I nod. "More times than I can count. Why?"
	
"Do you realise how lucky you are?"
	
"I ... I think so," I say slowly. "Is your husband here as 
well?"
	
She shakes her head. "He died just over an hour ago," she 
says softly, her voice wavering. "From a brain 
hemorrhage."
	
"I'm sorry," I reply. It's weak but what else am I supposed 
to say?
	
"No signs that anything was wrong. He told me he had a 
slight head ache and wanted to lie down for a moment and 
that was it. Three hours later it was all over."
	
I don't say anything, but wait for her to continue.
	
"For years I've been telling myself to wait for the perfect 
moment to tell him just how important he was to me. It's 
stupid, really, that you want to wait for such a moment 
when all it takes is just a kind word. But I never did it. 
Don't get me wrong, I told him I loved him every day, but 
I never told him he meant the world to me. That he was 
my life-line, even when we were quarrelling, and even 
when we didn't agree about the children. I just couldn't do 
it. And now it's too late." She sighs, before she turns to 
me. "Do you have children?"
	
I shake my head, unable to stop a sharp pang from 
happening in my heart at the mentioning of children. "No, 
we can't have them."
	
"I'm sorry," she says in turn, making me smile.
	
"No need."
	
"I never told him," she continues. She takes out a 
handkerchief and dabs at her eyes. "He died without ever 
having known. Don't let that happen to you. Tell her how 
much you love her whenever you have a chance, make her 
feel it."
	
I feel a lump in my throat. She can't have any idea just 
how often we've been in a situation just like hers - seeing 
the other at death's door and still being too much of a 
coward to reveal our deepest feelings towards each other.
	
A nurse walks up to us and beckons the bereaved woman, 
who nods slowly and gets to her feet. Then, just before she 
walks away, she turns back to me. "I'm glad to have met 
you. She's a very lucky woman. Let her know that, don't 
end up with the same regrets I have now. It's not worth 
it."
	
"Thank you," I answer softly but sincerely. Then I watch 
her follow the nurse, her shoulders bent slightly as if she 
is carrying the weight of world on her back. She can't be 
more than fifty years old.

XxXxX

"What is all this for, Mulder?" I ask as I walk through the 
door. It's been a long, distressing day and I'm dead tired. 
Give me a bed, any old bed, and I'll crash on it, no 
problem.
	
Instead I'm being met by an apartment filled with candles, 
the soft sweet aroma of vanilla incense and Fox Mulder in 
a romantic mood. He takes my coat and hangs it in the 
closet as I walk into the softly-lit room. I didn't know my 
apartment could look this beautiful and serene.
	
"Is it too much?" he asks and I smile. Sweet Mulder ...
	
"Oh no," I answer. "I'm just a bit surprised."
	
"That's good, because I wanted it to be a surprise." He 
walks up to me and kisses me softly. "You look tired."
	
"I am," I say softly, pressing myself closer to him, feeling 
his arms come round me.
	
"If you'd rather just go to bed, I won't mind, Scully. It 
must have been a tough day for you."
	
"It was a tough day, but I think I've just discovered the 
perfect cure," I smile and he smiles back. "Why did you 
do it?"
	
He kisses me before he answers, making my arms rest 
around his neck. "I met a woman in the hospital," he says 
and I raise an eyebrow at the comment, making him laugh. 
I guess I should hear the alarm bells go off now, but I 
don't. Not with him.
	
"What woman?" I ask.
	
"Do you remember the woman who was sitting next to me 
when you came to me for a few moments?" he asks and I 
nod. "Her husband had just died and she told me about 
having regrets."
	
"Regrets?"
	
He leads me to the couch where we sit down. Then he 
makes me lie down in his arms, leaning against him, 
sheltering me in his strong arms, one round my back, the 
other one holding my head gently against his chest, and 
thus making me feel incredibly safe and secure.
	
"I can't promise I'll stay awake for very long if you keep 
holding me like this," I murmur and I can see his smile. 
"You realise that, if I fall asleep on you, it is all your fault, 
right?"
	
He bends down and kisses my hair, grinning. "I accept full 
responsibility."
	
"Good. Now what did she tell you?"
	
He takes a deep breath. "Her husband had died only an 
hour before we met. I don't know why she wasn't with 
him, I didn't ask, but we starting talking. She asked me if 
you were my wife and whether I ever told you how much 
you mean to me. I said we were indeed married, and that I 
had told you more times than I could count."
	
"You have," I interrupt. I'm nearly asleep, but his words 
keep me awake, even when they can't abandon all 
thoughts of rest. "It means so much to me."
	
"That's why I do it, and I also know that's why you tell 
me. Because it means the world to us. But she had never 
told her husband. She'd said 'I love you' plenty of times, 
but she'd never expressed the true depth of her affection 
for him. And she urged me not to make the same 
mistake." 
	
I feel a lump in my throat at these last words. My God, 
surely he doesn't feel as though he ...
	
He continues, his voice suspiciously soft and fragile. "I 
just want you to know, to feel, to sense in every way 
possible, how much I love you, how much I care about 
you, how I would give my life for you, if that were a valid 
option."
	
I press my lips together, not trusting myself to speak right 
now. I know I'm going to burst into tears the moment I 
open my mouth so I don't.
	
"Just think about it, I went through 32 years of life, not 
knowing your name, not knowing you even existed, and I 
just can't imagine how that could have been. How you 
could have ever *not* been a part of my life," he adds.
	
I think about it and find I have to draw the same 
conclusion. Amazing. It's downright unbelievable that 
there used to be a time when I didn't know him, when I 
dated other guys, unaware of him, even though we might 
have met before we were teamed up. Years after the event 
I saw an attendance sheet for a seminar I went to when I 
was still teaching at Quantico, and his name was on that 
list as well. I was baffled at the notion we had been 
attending the same seminar and never exchanged a word.
	
I move up his body so our faces are level. "It must be 
awful to have to live with the realisation your spouse 
never knew the depth of your love," I say to him softly. I 
raise my hand and run my index finger and middle finger 
along his bottom lip. His hand closes round my wrist, just 
when I feel him kiss my fingers.
	
"Thank God that will never happen to us."
	
I shake my head, smiling. "On the contrary, we're in 
danger of boring other people to death by telling one 
another how much we care."
	
He makes a soft huffing sound. "I don't give a damn about 
other people," he whispers, leaning in. "Never have and 
never will."
	
"Now that's the Mulder I know," I reply in a low voice, 
kissing him softly, sweetly, tenderly. Then we lie back, 
just smiling at each other. Yes, it has been a long tough 
day, and more of those will inevitably follow, but I'm 
pretty sure I'll cope.	

XxXxXxXxX

KISS 2/4 - Joyous and full of happiness

Easter at the Scully home. God, what an experience. I've 
been through a handful of Christmases with the Scullys 
and here I thought I'd seen it all, but I have been wrong: 
you just can't be considered a proper part of the Scully 
Clan until you've spent Easter at Head Quarters. And, 
believe me, none of those navy or government HQs could 
even hold a candle to Maggie Scully's House. Capital 
letters, that's right.
	
Of course, Mass was compulsory, which is always a bit of 
a drag for a not-so-very-religious bastard like myself, but 
I'll do pretty much anything for Scully, so it was off to 
Mass with the whole family; Bill and Tara and the kids, 
Charlie and his family, and of course Dana and yours 
truly. All under the watchful eye of the Mater Familias, 
Margaret Scully. Wow ...
	
After Mass there was the Easter Brunch. Still more capital 
letters. You'd have believed Maggie had invited the whole 
neighbourhood to come round and join in when you saw 
the sheer amount of food on the table, but in fact she 
really did expect us to eat all this food by ourselves. Eep 
... It's a good thing Bill and Charlie are big eaters, and 
Bill's son, Matthew, knows a thing or two about wolfing it 
all down as well, so we didn't end up disappointing 
Maggie. Or bursting our seams.
	
I'm sitting on the couch, still trying hard to digest the 
amount of food I ate. That's another of Maggie's 
problems: she is way too good of a cook. Whatever she 
makes you'll always eat too much of it, it's inevitable. 
And of course, I'm renowned for finding it hard to keep 
measure anyway.
	
I must have been dozing off, for suddenly I feel something 
flop down on the couch next to me. For a moment I expect 
it to be one of the kids who, much to Bill's chagrin, 
readily adopted me as a new uncle - especially after 
seeing my gun - , but then I look in the sparkling eyes and 
toothy smile of my partner.
	
"Now don't you fall asleep already, Mulder. The party 
ain't over yet!"
	
I groan. "You could've warned me before you dragged me 
over here, Scully! I feel like I'm in some sort of hurricane 
and I can't get off."
	
"Click your heels together three times and wish for 
home," she whispers in my ear as she leans on my 
shoulder. I would have frowned if the exuberant and 
utterly happy expression I see on her face didn't fill me 
with a huge amount of joy. I don't often get to see my 
partner so happy and carefree and I think I like it.
	
"God, don't I ever," I say nonetheless, just joking.
	
"Yeah, go back to that dark apartment of yours, watch TV 
all night and eat pizza," she whispers. "Back to being a 
normal bachelor with no life."
	
I turn towards her and lean in, all but bridging the distance 
between her face and mine. Two can play this game. "You 
bet. And you could go back to yours, sit down on the floor 
by the coffee table, eating nothing but salads while 
reading one pathology report after another on Friday 
nights when you should be out hunting guys. Such a wild 
girl you always were ..."
	
I look at her face, so incredibly close. Her eyes are 
challenging me to continue because she loves it and she 
knows I do, too. "Would you go back to that life, Dana?" I 
whisper. She shakes her head, barely noticable to me. 
"Why not? You liked it."
	
"I like what I have now," she answers in an equally soft 
whisper.
	
"Do you?"
	
She nods. "Mm-mm."
	
I lean in so our faces are even closer. I can't see all of her 
face at the same time anymore, that's how close we are, 
but who cares? Her eyes and her lips are all I need to see 
anyway. I find I can't tear my gaze away from her lips. 
They're parted just the slightest bit, showing a sliver of 
white teeth, and while she isn't wearing any lipstick - I 
can tell that much from here - her lips are red and moist 
like coral, and infinitly inviting. Tempting me to give in, 
torturing my powers of restraint but not in a bad way at 
all. I feel her breath warm on my face and when she 
briefly licks her lips, I lose the battle altogether.
	
"I like this life, too," I whisper, just before I kiss her, 
softly but earnestly. I weave my hand in her hair so I can 
hold her a bit better, but try not to force her into anything. 
She knows what to do and how to make me feel good well 
enough to make it unnecessary for me to interfere. And 
God help me should I try to interfere.
	
"Are you happy?" I ask softly.
	
She nods. "I can't even put it into words. Are you?"
	
"It borders on ridiculous, just the mere thought of what I'd 
do for you," I answer and she chuckles softly, before 
leaning in to kiss me again.
	
She's so soft and gentle, I can't believe it, and yet so 
openly happy and joyous; I can sense that brilliant Scully 
smile in her kiss. To any other person the kiss may appear 
uninterestingly chaste and boring, but there's nothing 
chaste or boring about the kisses we're sharing right now. 
Sweet and playful, oh yes, definitely, but chaste and 
boring? Hell no!
	
"Ooo, auntie Dana and Mulder are kissing!"
	
We look aside in the beaming face of little Kelly, 
Charlie's eldest daughter. She's giggling as she gets 
surrounded by even more Scully kids, all giggling as if 
they have seen something incredibly naughty. "Mommy, 
daddy, look! Auntie Dana and Mulder are kissing!" we 
hear Matthew's voice piping over the other giggling 
voices.
	
"How about blowing this place?" Scully whispers and I 
nod, grinning.
	
"Yeah, there's just too much of an audience to my liking 
right now."
	
"Mm-mm. And it's time for the next part of Easter 
anyway," she replies as she looks at her watch.
	
I raise an eyebrow. "The next part?"
	
She smiles enigmatically. "Oh yes ..." And seeing my 
bewildered expression, she continues, pulling me off the 
couch and on to my feet. "And wouldn't you just love to 
know what's in store for you next ..."
	
I'm in trouble. But I think I like it.
	
"Welcome to the Scully Clan," she whispers, reaching up 
and kissing me just briefly, which I respond to in kind. 
Then I grin and willingly follow her to whatever is up 
next. With a woman like her by my side I can survive just 
about anything. 
	
I think. I hope.

XxXxXxXxX

KISS 3/4 - Relieved and emotional

The sign 'all clear' has just been given and I can't even 
begin to express the immense feelings of relief I'm 
experiencing. I never ever want to go through this again. 
Do you understand me? Never.
	
I'm waiting for the SWAT team to emerge from the 
building, which could take anywhere from right now to 
half an hour, but I'll be patient. I've been patient for years 
... I'm clenching and unclenching my fists by my side as I 
anxiously wait for the first people to be brought out of the 
burning building. I feel my nails digging into the flesh of 
my hands, but I can't stop. For God's sake, let her be all 
right. I swear I'll never want another thing in my entire 
life, but please let her be okay ...
	
The moment I see the first vague outlines of people 
emerging from the smoke and dust, I'm off. I hear men's 
voices behind me, trying to stop me, but I don't see how 
they could. I need to see her. I need to know if she 
survived this.
	
It's a total pandemonium now, people crying, shouting, 
cursing all around me. I see guys in bullet proof vests, 
sporting semi-automatic weapons, supporting injured men, 
women, children. And I see blood. Lots of blood. And 
body bags.
	
I dash from one stretcher to another, from one body bag to 
the next, but I can't find her. Where the hell is she?! The 
building's about to collapse, where the bloody hell is 
she?!
	
"Excuse me, I'm looking for my partner?" I ask every 
person I meet that might have at least a smidgen of 
information. "Have you seen her? Her name is Dana 
Scully, red hair, petite woman?"
	
Every time the answer is no. No, they haven't seen her. 
And no, they don't know if she's still alive. It's driving 
me nuts.
	
I'm getting so frustrated here. And then I see her. No 
wonder I couldn't find her among the EMTs and 
ambulances: she's walking out from the burning building 
by herself, a woman clinging frantically to her as they 
slowly make their way towards help.
	
"Scully?" I shout as I run up to her. When I reach her, I 
immediately take the woman from her. "Scully, are you 
okay?"
	
She nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. But Sarah here is not. I think 
she has broken her ankle and she has inhaled a lot of 
smoke and toxic fumes. We need to get her to an 
ambulance."
	
The woman she refers to as Sarah, coughs violently and 
her saliva is tinged heavily with blood. I may not be a 
doctor, but even I know that this is not a good situation.
	
"You're going to be fine, honey," I hear Scully say to her 
as I feel how Sarah hangs limply in my arms, only barely 
holding on. "We're going to take good care of you."
	
I look at Scully as she comforts the woman, but say 
nothing. I don't know what happened inside that building, 
but something must have forged a kind of bond between 
the women that I know nothing about and I don't want to 
interfere.
	
We've reached an ambulance and Sarah is immediately 
taken from our care. I'm glad to see professionals take 
over, I have no idea what I'd have to do. Scully walks up 
to her and takes her hand. "You're going to be okay, 
Sarah. Just keep holding on. It's worth it, honey, it's 
worth it."
	
I see the woman nods faintly under the oxygen mask, just 
before she lets go of Scully's hand. Then she's moved into 
the ambulance and we lose sight of her. The car drives off, 
leaving us alone amid the chaos. I don't think I've ever 
seen my partner look so lost.
	
"Scully?"
	
She slowly turns around to look at me.
	
"Scully, we need to have you checked over," I say softly, 
walking over towards her.
	
"I'm fine, Mulder," she just answers, confirming my 
beliefs that she is anything but fine.
	
"I know you are," I reply, stroking her cheeks, cupping 
her face in my hands and looking at her intently. "But I 
also know that you've been in a dangerous situation and ... 
well, I just want to be sure."
	
She doesn't answer right away, but her eyes are brimming 
with tears. "Really, I'm fine, Mulder." 
	
I can barely make out her words. Even if she'd be fine 
physically, something has shaken her pretty badly 
mentally. I can't, however, solve that right now. What I 
can do though is have someone check her for any physical 
problems.
	
"Then will you let someone look at you for my sake?"
	
She nods, but I see a blimp of familiar annoyance flash 
across her face. I smile as we walk towards an ambulance 
together.
I'm sorry, Scully, I know you hate it when I get over-
protective, but I just can't help it.

XxXxX
	
In the end she didn't need a ride to the hospital, but she 
was told to stay off work for at least a fortnight and that 
she shouldn't be alone tonight. Yeah, right, as if I were 
even going to leave her alone.
	
We're in her apartment, on her couch. After what she'd 
went through, I knew she'd need the familiar and orderly 
surroundings of her home, and besides I feel better here 
myself, too. Better not say that out loud, it sounds so 
pathetic.
	
"Really, Mulder, you can go home if you like," she says 
for what must be the tenth time tonight. "I'm fine, you 
don't need to stay with me."
	
I sit back down beside her on the couch and look at her, 
studying her for a moment. Then I sigh and look ahead of 
me. "Yeah, I know you're fine ..."
	
"What's that supposed to mean?"
	
"Scully, what happened in there?" I ask, looking at her 
again.
	
She shrugs, but I can feel it's just a gesture to mask her 
emotions. "Some ass-hole set the whole building on fire, 
though God only knows why."
	
Jesus, Scully ...
	
I feel how my own emotions threaten to get the better of 
me and I groan, trying to tamp them down, but hardly 
succeeding.
	
"I nearly lost you," I force out.
	
"I'm fine."
	
"Don't you get it? I nearly lost you! Again!" I say in a 
hard voice. Then, softer, "I don't think I could cope with 
that, Scully ..."
	
"Mulder, I'm fine. I didn't get hurt very much and I just 
need a bit of time to get it all out of my head and get back 
to normal. Logically I've been in much more dangerous 
situations."
	
I can't smile at her joke for the life of me, in fact it just 
makes me hurt even more.

XxXxX

She's asleep right now, but I can't leave this place. I don't 
want to go to sleep either, and besides it would be 
impossible to sleep anyway, with all the thoughts and 
emotions whirling around inside my mind the way they 
are.
	
Jesus, Scully, I nearly lost you forever ...
	
Okay, that's it. No more halting, no more waiting for that 
perfect moment we'll never get in the first place. I have 
come close to losing her just one time too many and this 
charade has got to stop. I rise from her couch and enter her 
bedroom, having taken off my shoes just outside of her 
bedroom door, so I won't wake her. Then I kneel down 
next to her bed, right next to her face. Scratches blemish 
the usual perfection of her skin and trouble lines crease 
her normally smooth brow. Something has severely 
shocked her in that building and it won't even leave her 
alone in sleep.
	
I know I shouldn't do it, but I do it anyway: I reach over 
and softly start stroking her face. I planned on just the one 
caress, but find it impossible to stop once I've started 
touching her. I'm almost shocked by the sheer craving I 
feel. Craving her touch, craving the contact.
	
Slowly, with a false start or two, her eyes come open to 
meet mine. "Mulder?" she whispers, her voice a bit rough 
with sleep.
	
The mere sound of her voice is enough to break me down. 
"Don't do this to me again, Scully," I choke out between 
inaudible sobs. I use my anger to keep the tears at bay. 
"Don't leave me behind like that again. I can't take that 
any longer."
	
She moves closer to me until our heads are all but 
touching. "Mulder ..."
	
"I nearly lost you. I nearly lost you forever. The thought is 
killing me, I can't get it out of my head," I go on, unable 
to stop the words from flooding out of my mouth, 
unstoppably, uncontrollably. "I would've killed myself if 
you hadn't made it, Scully. I saw the body bags and 
almost got sick at the idea I might find you in one of them. 
And no one would tell me anything, nobody knew where 
you were or even if you were still alive or not." I bury my 
face in her hair, pulling her closer to me as I'm sitting on 
the floor and she's lying on the bed. "I can't go on like 
this. Not after all this, not after all these years."
	
Her eyes are shining with tears and when she moves away 
from me, I can read the silent invitation to join her there. I 
move up onto the bed and draw her close, as close as I can 
without hurting or smothering her.
	
"Mulder."
	
I look at her. "Don't do this to me, Scully, just don't ..."
	
She nods slightly. "Okay," she whispers. It sounds so 
sincere I have no trouble at all to believe her. I nod as a 
confirmation, letting out a sigh. Then I look up again to 
meet her eyes.
	
"I'll let go now. You need to sleep."
	
If anything she only grips me tighter. "So do you."
	
"Scully, you're the one who went through all that hell, I'm 
fine. Don't worry about me, I'm perfectly all right."
	
"Yeah, like hell you are," she answers and shakes her 
head. "If you were okay you wouldn't have broken down 
the way you did just now. I'm sorry, Mulder, but I know 
you better than to fall for that excuse!"
	
I sigh again. "You're right, I'm sorry ..."
	
She smiles weakly. "Hey, it's okay. Really. Look, we've 
both been through a lot, we're both stressed out, I no more 
than you, so why don't you just stay here and sleep, okay? 
I need you here, Mulder. I really do."
	
I look at her, but don't answer. Then I toe off my sneakers 
and reach for the down comforter, pulling it over us. She's 
right, but what else is new about that anyway?

XxXxX

I'm first to wake up again. She's still asleep, cuddled up 
all nice and relaxed in my arms, looking a lot as though 
she belongs here. Maybe she does. It makes me smile and 
I bow my head to kiss her on the crown of her head.
	
Damn, it's waking her up.
	
"Mmmm ...? Mulder ...?" she says softly, opening her 
eyes slowly.
	
"Yeah, I'm here," I whisper.
	
"Good," she just says, nuzzling the front of my T-shirt.
	
"Scully, who is Sarah?" 
	
She stiffens, probably as a result of the memories flooding 
back. "Mulder, not now ..."
	
"I need to know," I whisper. "Please tell me."
	
"No, not here ..."
	
"Scully, please ..."
	
She takes a shuddery breath. "We ... we were held in the 
same room," she says, "together with about a dozen other 
people when it started. Gradually the number of people in 
the room decreased until it was just Sarah and me. And 
when the whole building started to go up in flames, we 
knew we could only make it if we'd stay together."
	
"How come she was so seriously injured when you were 
practically unhurt?"
	
She presses herself closer to me, burying her face in the 
curve of my throat. It muffles her voice and I have to 
strain to hear it, but I don't have it in me to tell her so, lest 
she may feel vulnerable and stop her narrative. I need to 
know this or I won't be able to help her.
	
"We lost sight of each other at some point," she continues. 
"I went in search of her among the debris of the collapsing 
building and found her half-buried under a large steel 
beam that had collapsed from the floor above. I pulled her 
out from underneath and together we went in search of an 
exit."
	
"Which you found," I say softly.
	
She nods. "Yeah, I did, though God only knows how I did 
it. The air was black with smoke and we couldn't see a 
hand in front of our eyes."
	
"Thank God you two made it to an exit," I reply. "I'm sure 
she's going to be just fine."
	
She doesn't answer right away, and I can see her eyes 
misting over with tears. "She was pregnant, Mulder, and 
we don't know if the baby survived."
	
I pull her closer. "Of course it has," I say, trying to 
comfort her. "How could it not have?" I sound a lot more 
optimistic than I feel.
	
"It's her third baby, she's had two miscarriages already. 
The smoke and fumes may have killed this child as well. 
She told me she couldn't bear losing her baby again, and I 
just felt her pain so deeply, so intensely ..."
	
I feel my throat sting with unshed tears, blocking it 
completely. "I'm sorry ..." I force out, but it's not easy. 
God, no wonder she cared for this woman. If there is one 
thing that can make Scully lose her equilibrium it must be 
the issue of children.
	
"I know," she just says. She looks so strong, I can barely 
believe it. Here I am, feeling sorry for her, when I of all 
people should know Dana Scully needs anything but pity. 
"I'm only glad we made it."
	
I nod, but don't speak. I dare not.
	
"And you know what else I felt?" she goes on, her voice 
steady again. "I felt, I just knew somehow, that we could 
and would make it out of that building somehow. I can't 
explain why, but I just sensed it in every fibre of my body. 
There wasn't a moment that I felt desperate, not until we 
were actually out of the building. I knew, instinctively, I 
had to make it back, back to you, and that I would succeed 
if I would only try. I don't know why that was, but I just 
needed to be back with you. Isn't that weird?"
	
"Maybe," I answer, "but then again maybe not."
	
"What do you mean?"
	
I smile a lop-sided smile. "I don't know. All I know is that 
I myself knew I needed to get you back, out of that 
building, whatever the cost or effort might be to me or to 
whoever or whatever else. Maybe it forged a connection 
between us that transcended time and place and made us 
realise, simultaneously, that giving up would be the one 
mistake we couldn't afford." I grin when I see her 
expression. "You look at me as if I've lost my mind."
	
"No, actually it makes perfect sense, doesn't it?" she says, 
thinking. "After all we've experienced it would be strange 
in a way if there weren't a link of some sort between us. 
And why shouldn't that be a mental, an intellectual link as 
well?"
	
"That doesn't sound at all like the Dana Scully I'm used 
to," I quip and she smiles, the first real beautiful smile 
since she came out of that building. I can't help but 
comment on it. "Hey, you're smiling again. I think I like 
that."
	
"You think?"
	
I smile, pulling her close. "No, I'm pretty damn sure." 
Then my smile fades as I need one last reassurance from 
her: "I know this wasn't your fault, but ... Scully, I meant 
it when I said I couldn't take this anymore, you know."
	
She nods, her expression earnest. "I know. Perhaps that 
was why I made it when so many people did not. We need 
to be together, need it in every way we can find and think 
of."
	
"Yeah," I whisper, just before I draw her in. I planned on 
just a simple kiss, a good-night kiss, but I find I can't 
leave it at that at all. There's just too much despair left in 
me, too much anxiety, mixed with the unspeakable relief 
at having her back - it's inevitable that this should find a 
response in this so very intimate of gestures. All the 
emotions come pouring into our kiss and frankly I 
couldn't give a damn about it, I need to feel this, feel our 
connection, feel the utter relief because we've been given 
another chance. A chance we shouldn't have gotten, but 
received anyway. I owe some people up there big time.
	
"I can't believe you're here," I say in a low voice, resting 
my forehead against hers.
	
"Logically speaking I shouldn't be," she answers, "but I'm 
here and I'm fine."
	
"Yeah ..."
	
"You want me to make something to eat?"
	
My stomach rumbles loudly before I can answer and we 
both burst out laughing. "That might not be such a bad 
idea," I grin, looking at her. She gets to her feet slowly 
and walks into the kitchen while I follow her with my 
eyes, marvelling in the fact that she's here, she's relatively 
okay and she will be just fine in a few weeks. 
Unbelievable.
	
Then I, too, get off the bed and follow her into the kitchen. 
We've been given a whole new opportunity to make 
something of our lives and God help me should I try to 
mess it up.

XxXxXxXxX

KISS 4/4 -- Hot and passionate

I don't often get to see my partner this relaxed. Hell, I 
can't remember ever having seen him this relaxed. It's 
amazing what a few days away from work can do. Even to 
a man who is virtually married to his work. Which he 
would be, if he hadn't been married to me, of course.
	
He's lying on his back in the long grass behind the 
cottage, probably asleep. He has folded his arms under his 
head and his long legs are crossed at the ankles. He's 
wearing nothing but his faded snug blue jeans and a 
cowboy hat which he has tilted forward to cover his face 
and shield him from the summer sun.
	
I pull the back door almost closed behind me and walk up 
to him on bare feet, just like his. The grass is incredibly 
soft and cool under my feet and silences my steps 
perfectly.
	
We're staying at the summer cottage Mulder inherited 
from his father and mother, but which he neglected for 
years. Or, as he put it, couldn't spare the money for. 
Which was a bit of a white lie as I know all too well that 
money has always been the one thing he never had to 
worry about. I guess the real reason was that it simply held 
too many unpleasant memories and not enough good ones. 
And, with a job and a life like his, what did he need a 
quaint cottage in the middle of nowhere for anyway? I'm 
glad I could convince him to take me there at least once 
before he'd sell it, which was what he planned to do.
	
This is our second day at the cottage. We arrived here late 
yesterday afternoon from DC and spent the night settling 
in. He'd agreed with a woman who lived about three miles 
down the road to give it a cursory clean before we arrived 
so that it was at least habitable, and she's been as good as 
her word. Spotless would be too much honour, but the 
bedlinnens were fresh and clean as were the kitchen and 
the bathroom.
	
This morning we went out for some grocery shopping 
after which Mulder decided it was about time he went out 
and inspect what was left of the garden and orchard of 
fruittrees down the back of the garden. I, meanwhile, 
decided to go round the house and see what was left that 
was worth selling. And what a treasure-trove I have 
opened.
	
The furniture itself isn't really all that valuable and will 
probably end up in a skip. But I found the closets filled to 
the brim with clothes from the sixties, seventies and the 
eighties, which is probably about the time that the Mulder 
family spent holidays here. And I just couldn't help going 
through this mound of vintage clothing and trying some of 
it on.
	
I decided on a pair of very low-riding hip-hugging flared 
jeans that fit as if they were meant for me, and a white 
peasant blouse which is just this bit too short for the jeans. 
And when I saw him lying there, looking as scrumptious 
as ever, I decided to lose my bra. It spoilt the off-the-
shoulder neck line anyway.
	
I feel the warm wind in my hair and swirling round the 
bare skin of my waist as I approach him. I stop about a 
foot away from him.
	
"Hey," I say just above a whisper.
	
His left hand comes up from under his head and lifts the 
hat so that he can look at me. A lazy smile curls his lips.
	
I kneel down as he sits up against the tree, his legs pulled 
up, slightly apart, pushing the hat into a more 
conventional position. He looks like some guy from a 
commercial, all rugged and absolutely drop-dead sexy.
	
"Don't sit down," he says in a low voice. "I wanna look at 
you."

God, he must still be half asleep, I think, for he has never 
talked to me like this, his voice smooth and velvety like 
melted chocolate. Or maybe that is because I have never 
given him the opportunity to do so, which is probably a lot 
more likely. I think I like it.
	
I smile as I get back on my feet and let him look at me 
unashamedly. The look I see in his eyes tells me I haven't 
exactly made a bad choice with these clothes, even when 
they are well over thirty years old.
	
"Where did you get those clothes, Scully?" he asks, his 
voice rough around the edges.
	
"From one of the closets," I reply, turning a full circle in 
front of him. "You like?"
	
"Oh yeah ..." he breathes, getting to his feet. He settles his 
hands on my hips, his thumbs stroking the bare skin above 
the waistband, and pulls me closer so my lower body is 
fused to his. He wasn't lying when he said he liked my 
outfit, I can feel the evidence pressing into my belly. His 
head drops to my shoulder and he softly begins to nip at 
the skin that the blouse leaves uncovered. "You're not 
wearing a bra."
	
"Well spotted," I whisper with a wide smile. "You wanna 
know what else I'm not wearing?"
	
His low groan pools deep down in my belly and I can feel 
the heat that shines from his eyes as he looks back at me, 
amazed and very aroused at the same time. 
	
"Look," I say and I grin, "no shoes."
	
For a moment it seems as if he doesn't know how to react, 
but then he begins to laugh. "God, Scully, you really had 
me fooled for a moment!"
	
I reach up to kiss him. "Had I really? Wow ..." Then I 
reach down to take his hand. "Come, show me those 
fabulous gardens your father was so proud of if I am to 
believe your stories."

XxXxX

We stand together, side by side, on the very edge of the 
garden and look out across a vast expanse of land. What a 
view ...
	
"Is this yours as well?" I ask and he nods.
	
"Yes, most of it anyway, the part up to the lake belongs to 
this house. It's insane really, this much land for such a 
small cottage."
	
"What did your parents do with so much land?" I ask.
	
"Blow a lot of money on it, trying to keep it up. Maybe I 
can divide it up and sell it to several different people."
	
I nod. "It is beautiful, though," I say softly. Then I 
squeeze his hand softly. "Come, let's head back for the 
house."
	
He looks at me strangely, but follows me anyway. At least 
till we have reached the grass behind the cottage, which is 
where he stops me.
	
"Not the house, too, Scully."
	
I frown. "I'm sorry?"
	
"Let's stay outside."
	
"Oh, okay."
	
"Just for now let's stay here. It's warm, we don't need to 
go in yet." There is something desperate in his voice, 
something sad and forlorn that I can't quite figure out.
	
"It's okay, Mulder, we can stay out here as long as you 
like," I say softly, looking him in the eyes, weaving my 
fingers through his. His eyes are dark and haunted by 
memories I know nothing of. Maybe it really was a bad 
idea to come back here, just like he'd said.
	
I let my hand caress his face. "What is it?"
	
"I don't think I can tell you ..."
	
I feel a stab of hurt and anger, but try not to show it. He 
sees it anyway and shakes his head.
	
"You don't want to hear it, Scully. Not now, not here."
	
"Can you at least tell me some of it?" I try.
	
He thinks for a moment. "Can I ... would it be acceptable 
to you if I wrote it down for you to read?" He rakes his 
hair with his fingers. "Please?"
	
I smile. "Sure. Just don't be afraid to confide in me, 
okay?"
	
He smiles back, obviously relieved. "If this was any 
normal situation, I'd say that that would be logical, but 
this time it's different. But thanks anyway."
	
"No trouble," I say with a smile. I don't know much about 
his family and what has happened and I suppose I don't 
even want to know it all. If it's this hard for him to accept, 
then what will it be like for me? "Let's sit under that tree 
again. It's a nice spot."

XxXxX 

It's amazing how long it remains warm. I would've 
thought that it would be chilly by now, but the air is still 
nice and balmy.
	
"Warm Gulfstream," Mulder says behind me. "That's why 
it's still so nice out."
	
"Have you been reading my mind?" I quip, but I must say 
that I'm more than just a little amazed at his unexpected 
psychic powers.
	
"No, but I could tell what you were thinking anyway," he 
smiles, letting his hands slip under the peasant blouse. It's 
not even much of a garment with its wide neck and very 
short drawstring sleeves. I'm glad I've been working out 
lately for there is no way the blouse can cover my belly 
from just above my navel to my hip bones. I saw it when I 
put it on and I like it. For once I don't need to worry about 
the extreme modesty our job requires and I can afford 
showing a bit of skin and I've found I enjoy it.
	
His fingers begin a slow circling movement across my 
belly and I feel the warmth of his face just above my left 
shoulder. I smile as I revel in the feelings he causes.
	
"God, you're so beautiful," he whispers just before he 
presses a soft lingering kiss on the spot where my 
shoulder meets my neck.
	
I bite my lower lip when I feel the slightest indication of 
suction in his kiss. My hands land on his thighs, rubbing 
over them as I feel how my arousal grows. I'm sitting in 
the V of his legs and it's the perfect place to be, no doubt 
about it.
	
"You look like a gorgeous hippie flower girl," he 
continues, showering tiny butterfly kisses across all the 
bits of bare skin he can find and reach. "Carefree, playful, 
innocent ..." His fingers slip under the waistband of the 
jeans and he discovers I hadn't exactly included all I 
wasn't wearing when he first saw me, about an hour ago. 
He halts for a moment and I swear I can hear the wheels in 
his head turn over as he rapidly processes the information 
his fingertips provide. " ... or maybe I ought to take that 
last word back," he adds in a rough whisper. I can feel his 
interest grow rapidly and press into my lower back. "Are 
you trying to kill me by any chance?"
	
I turn round in his arms so I can look at him. "No, but 
when I saw you take off your T-shirt, I did wonder how I 
could just turn this into a very interesting late afternoon 
..."
	
"Out here?"
	
I nod. "Why not? You just said I'm a hippie flower girl. It 
would be fitting if we'd continue this in style."
	
"Can I be your hippie partner then?" he smiles, starting to 
unbutton the soft white cotton of the blouse.
	
I smile. "You can be my rugged outdoor cowboy; tanned, 
strong, gorgeous," I reply in a whisper, running my hands 
across his taut six-pack.
	
"You think I'm gorgeous?"
	
"I think you're too sexy for your own benefit, honey, and 
*way* too sexy for your clothes."
	
He grins. "You have more clothes on than I do, Dana," he 
says in a low voice, sparkling with enjoyment.
	
"I know," I answer, "which means I can get you out of 
yours quicker."
	
"Not if I can get you out of this blouse before you can stop 
me," he grins, pushing the thin cotton off my shoulders. I 
let it drop to the ground behind me before reaching up to 
claim his lips. I feel his hands land on my hips as he pulls 
me to him, pulling our groins together, still kissing. His 
fingers follow the waist band of my jeans and begin 
undoing the button and zip fly. And that's when the alarm 
goes off.
	
I place my hand on his, stopping him. "No," I whisper, 
making him look at me. He looks puzzled and rightfully 
so, I guess. "Not out here."
	
"Why not? Don't you want this?"
	
Yes, what is the matter with me, I wonder? I'm nearly 
shaking with desire - for him - and here I'm stopping 
him. Why indeed?
	
"No, I mean, yes. Yes, I want this," I answer softly. I can't 
help but feel confused myself, so just imagine how he 
must be feeling. "I want you so much ... but I just ..."
	
He gently lifts my face to make me look at him. "What is 
it?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle. Any other man 
would have either bolted or jumped me by now, but not 
Mulder.
	
"I ... It's too ... too fast ..." I try. It's the correct meaning, 
but it still doesn't sound right. I just don't know how to 
put it differently.
	
"Too fast?"
	
I nod. "Yes," I whisper.
	
He smiles. "Then we'll go slower."
	
"You don't mind?"
	
Now he laughs. "No, Scully, I don't mind." He kisses me 
sweetly and when he looks back at me, his expression is 
serious again. "I could never do this if you weren't a 
hundred per cent comfortable with it. How could I 
possibly enjoy it if I felt that you were not?" He lets out an 
incredulous little laugh. "That would be just utterly 
impossible, wouldn't it?"
	
"You mean that, don't you?" I can't help but ask him.
	
He smiles. "Yes, Dana, I mean every single word of that."
	
I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. 
"Thank you," I say softly, wrapping my arms around him, 
drawing him closer, resting my head on his shoulder.
	
"Don't thank me, it's the least you should be expecting 
from me."
	
God, and he means that, too ...
	
But, if anything, I still want him. I want him badly. And, 
guessing from my position and ascertaining with a little 
wiggling, I know with dead certainty that he wants me, 
too. Just as badly. But I also know better than to expect 
him to make the first move now. He'd willingly ignore his 
own needs for the rest of our lives if that was what I 
wanted from him and it's up to me to let him know he 
doesn't have to. To let him know I don't even want him 
to.
	
"You can touch me if you want to," I say in a low voice. 
His hands have been completely still ever since I stopped 
him and I crave his touch. His hands are so good at 
touching me, it would be a shame, if not a crime, to let 
that go to waste.
	
"Scully, you don't need to rush this, I can take all the time 
you need."
	
I lift my face from his shoulder so I can look in his eyes.
	
"I know you can, but I don't want you to," I say softly, 
raising my hands to his face and caressing his lips, his 
cheeks, his forehead, every part I can reach I touch. I'm 
nearly incredulous at the immense over-powering feeling 
of love and complete adoration I feel for him whenever I 
lay eyes on him, whether it is at work or at home, whether 
we're relaxed or stressed, it doesn't matter. I'm still nearly 
delirious with affection. 
	
I lean in and touch my lips to his, determined not to let go 
for a considerable amount of time yet to come. And right 
when our mouths meet, hot, hungry, wet, his hands start to 
wander, slowly and tentatively at first, then faster and 
bolder. Or at least I think so, as I can't really tell anymore. 
The kiss, the feelings, his hands, my emotions, it all 
becomes a blur, one impression feeding into the other, 
only adding to the total feeling of unadulterated bliss.
	
I moan into our kiss when he touches my breasts, circling 
my nipples softly, teasingly, then cupping them in his 
large hands. I feel my arousal grow at lightning speed and 
I'm pretty sure I could come right here and now, just from 
his touch and his kiss. I probably will if we keep this up.
	
I slip my hands under the waistband of his old jeans, both 
teasing him and giving him permission to do the same 
with mine. It doesn't take long for him to get the idea. He 
cups the back of my head in one hand, holding me closer 
so we won't need to break our kiss, while his other hand 
slips into my jeans, just teasing, but not progressing. I've 
taken to breathing through my nose so we won't have to 
interrupt this kiss. We can't let go, just can't.
	
Delicious tingles begin to ripple along every nerve ending 
they can find, signalling the inevitable. I can barely 
believe what's happening to me - who would ever have 
thought you could come from just kissing. But, Jesus, this 
isn't just kissing ... No way in hell could this be described 
as 'just a kiss'.
	
Slow, I need to go slower, I don't want to finish this here, 
still dressed from the waist down. I can't, it's not what I 
want, it's not what I need.
	
"Mulder ..."
	
He looks just as out of breath as I am - and definitely 
equally close to the edge.
	
"Holy shit," he pants, "what is going on here?"
	
I laugh softly, I can't help it. "I think we're way too good 
at this." It makes him laugh as well.
	
"Damn right we are." Then his face grows more serious 
again. "Do you want to stop now?"
	
I contemplate the idea. "Do you? I don't think I can."
	
He takes a deep breath, visibly forcing himself not to 
touch me. "No, I don't think I can either ..."
	
I can't explain the relief I feel. I want that gorgeous body 
of his so much, the last thing I want right now is for us to 
stop this. "But not out here."
	
"I need to confront this, Scully," he says softly, raining 
soft butterfly kisses over my upper body. Apparently he's 
given up on the idea of not touching. I can't blame him.
	
"Do you think I could help you?"
	
That makes him look back at me. "I can't think of a 
person who would be more capable," he says earnestly. It 
makes me smile. I get up on my feet - which is easier said 
than done after the positively mind-boggling sensations I 
went through only minutes ago - and hold out my hand 
for him to follow my example. He grabs it and helps 
himself onto his feet, then engulfs me in a warm embrace.
	
"Thanks, Scully."
	
"For what?" I ask very softly.
	
He thinks for a moment. "For being my friend, I guess."
	
It makes me smile widely. For being his friend. Oh God ... 
"That's all right, Mulder, you're a good friend to me, too."
	
I hear and feel his laugh. Then he releases his grip on me, 
laces his fingers through mine and together we head back 
towards the cottage. "Come, let's exorcise some demons."

THE END


Kirsten Kerkhof (c)
The Netherlands, 2 May 2003