From: MD1016 Date: 09 Jun 2000 13:30:29 GMT Subject: New: Questions and Answers by MD1016 Gossamer: VA Rated: R Spoilers: 6th Season Keywords: none Summary: Sequel to Defining Slow Questions and Answers by MD1016 "You've been very quiet all day." Mulder was getting good at asking her questions without actually asking the question. She could tell from the way he stood next to her -- hunched over his folded arms, letting the three-foot wide cement lip of the dam bare his weight -- that he was thinking about the night before, too. The heaviness was in his shoulders, in his spine, and the hooded gaze that no longer studied the billowing mist below them. The Hoover Dam was an impressive sight, and granted a spectacular view, but no face of Jesus floated up as the witnesses had claimed. No major miracles were at work that day. Just as there hadn't been the night before. When she didn't answer right away he glanced at her, briefly, repeating the unspoken query. Were things still okay between them? Scully didn't know what to say. Her epiphany a few scant hours before the sun came up that morning didn't change the way she felt about him, though it did unlock a few of the uglier demons that lived in the darker recesses of her head. "Just contemplative," she muttered, hoping that he wouldn't push her, and knowing he would. "You didn't get much sleep last night." She shrugged. They'd both laid awake most of the night, and he knew it. It irritated her that he felt the need to state the obvious. "As much as you did." He ignored her curt reply. "Well, maybe we should consider separate rooms again while we're on assignment," he suggested sincerely. "Just so that you can sleep." Mulder was good. Very good. He knew the pitch, the exact tenderness level in his voice, that would touch her the most. He knew how to barely move his lips while he leaned close to capture her full attention, and get her to accept whatever it was he said without a struggle. He played her, and she let him. She had from the beginning. "Fine," she said, and turned away from him. It hurt, but not too badly. This she could survive. Let him have his space on cases, so he wouldn't have to juggle her and the work at the same time. It made sense, logically speaking, to ease their strong professional relationship back to where it had been nine weeks ago, before he'd ever thought of breaking it off with Fowley. The briefest flash of that horrible woman's face made her flinch. "It's not fine with you," he said after a moment. He was staring at her, trying to crawl into her head. She recognized the intensity in his eyes. "Please, don't profile me." "Then talk to me." "What do you want me to say?" she asked, exasperated. The calm, assured way he said, "Only the truth, Scully," made her snicker. He actually believed his own bravado. "Okay." She met his gaze head on and dared him to look away. "The truth is, Mulder, that you have never had any intention of saying yes. To me." His face dropped, and he turned to look out at the lake in the valley below. "That's...that's...not true." "Don't do that, Mulder. We're telling the truth now." She crossed her arms. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?" "You're mad about last night." Again, not a question. And trying to change the subject. "You're never going to say yes, are you?" He sucked on his bottom lip and studied the white foam spanning out from the base of the falls. "You're still hung-up on my relationship with Diana." He said her name again. "I thought you said there wasn't a relationship. That it was just sex." "Is that what bothers you?" The man was impossible. "What bothers me, is that I've found myself in love with my partner of six years who's put me on the wrong side of some Madonna/whore complex that stems from an over-idolization of his sister who has been missing for more than 25 years." "Madonna/whore complex?" She shook her head, incredulous. "Did you even hear the part about me being in love with you?" "I heard you." He shoved his fists in his pockets. "Are you waiting for me to say it back?" Well, at least this time he responded in the form of a question, Scully told herself, though it brought her little consolation as she walked away from him. The ache in her chest was back with a vengence, and this time it brought with it a stinging in her eyes. But she would not cry. Not in public. She'd wait until safely back at the motel, locked inside her separate room, shower turned on to full before she'd even think about tears. End. Note: For those who have been begging for it, resolution in the next installment. http://members.aol.com/msrsmut/MD1016.html