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 This author's e-mail address has changed to: ebonyun@telusplanet.net
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From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Tue, 13 Jun 2000 20:56:03 -0500
Subject: Sea Change   1/1 by Eleanore
Source: direct

Reply To: bonyun@oanet.com


TITLE:   SEA CHANGE  1/1 

AUTHOR: Eleanore

E-MAIL ADDRESS: bonyun@oanet.com

DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:
     You are welcome to re-post or otherwise distribute this story
among other X-Philes, as long as you do so for free, and my name
and e-mail address go with it as author. 

SPOILER WARNING: 
     Based on events in the story "Six Days And Seven Nights" by
Eleanore, which was based on events in The X-Files Movie. 

RATING:  PG

CONTENT WARNINGS:  Scully/Mulder romance. Non-graphic sex. 

CLASSIFICATION: V - Vignette, R - Romance Scully/Mulder 

DISCLAIMER:
     The characters and situations of the television program
"The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox
Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used
without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

SUMMARY: 
     This short story is a follow-up to "Six Days and Seven
Nights," a post-movie story I wrote in the fall of 1998 and have
just re-posted. If you want to fully understand "Sea Change," I
suggest you read "Six Days and Seven Nights" first. But in a few
words...
     Scully and Mulder spent six days and seven nights in a hotel
room upon their return from Antarctica, recovering from the
physical and emotional trauma they experienced there. Before they
left the hotel room, they agreed that when Scully was fully
recovered, they would follow through on those feelings which had
brought them to the near-kiss in the hallway outside Mulder's
apartment. 



                         SEA CHANGE  1/1

                 by Eleanore   bonyun@oanet.com   



     Scully wrung out the cloth and spread it over the top of the
bucket to dry. A few trips between table and fridge and all the
food was back in its place. She turned down the temperature dial.
The compressor hummed smoothly to work. The fridge door swung shut
with a muted thump. It was 9:30 and the highlight of her Friday
evening was over.
     She could do some work; her briefcase sat on one of the dining
room chairs, bulging with papers. She could listen to music and
read. Instead she walked about the apartment touching favourite
objects, fluffing cushions and straightening picture frames.
     She was no longer afraid to be alone here. For the first two
months after her return from Antarctica, her evenings had been
spent curled up in a blanket on the couch with most of the lights
on, her gun nearby, the TV blaring for company. There had been many
late night calls to Mulder. He always offered to come over.
Strengthened by the sound of his voice, she always said no. She had
toughed it out alone. Unable to concentrate on anything for very
long, she had often prayed.
     Time and intensive therapy had helped her get control over her
fear. One day she had stood in the middle of her apartment and
realized she was happy to be home. It was like being released from
a dark prison. Filled with energy, she had cleaned and sorted and
rearranged every inch of her household, joyfully repossessing her
territory. She called Mulder in the dark, just to say hi. He still
offered to come over. She still said no. She was able to work
again. Her prayers were filled with thanks. 
     Then a new problem had surfaced. She had never felt lonely in
her apartment before, but now as she ate her solitary meals, or
read the weekend papers, she was keenly aware of something
missing...someone absent. She would have quick flashes of Mulder's
hands turning the pages of the newspaper, or Mulder's springtime
eyes laughing at her from where he lounged on her couch. Sometimes
she thought she heard his voice. This evening as she had cleaned
out the fridge, she had imagined him behind her checking out the
leftovers for something good to eat. She missed Mulder. When she
phoned him to say hi, he offered to come over...and she wanted to
say yes.
     Scully took a leisurely bath in her favourite scented bubbles
while she considered this phenomenon of missing Mulder. It seemed
silly on the surface. She spent whole days and evenings, even
weekends, working with him. You'd think she would be glad to get
away from the infuriating man. Always before, she had kept her
apartment and her private life free of male influence...especially
Mulder's. Something had changed during the time they had spent
together in the hotel.
     In the course of their work, they were often forced to share
accommodations. Usually she viewed it as an irritating
inconvenience. But despite her illness, she had enjoyed much of
that week convalescing with Mulder. Lying in one of the double beds
with her back to the room, she had followed his every movement by
the noises he had made, and they had been a constant comfort. 
     Forced to lean heavily upon him, she had accepted him further
into her private world than ever before...and nothing bad had
happened. She was still her own person, strong and independent; she
had proven to herself she could still live alone and unafraid. 
     Now she wanted to share her private life with Mulder. To share
the intimate routines of daily living. To be comfort for each other
in the night. To wash each other's backs. 
     She got out of the tub, dried herself, and dressed in the
khaki cotton pants and the black t-shirt the Gunmen had given her.
Pulling the peach satin nightgown out of a drawer, she held it to
her face and stroked her cheek against its cool luxury. She
remembered the light in Mulder's eyes when she had first worn it.
With a smile, she folded it into her bag. 
     It was nearly eleven o'clock when she put her hand on the
doorknob, ready to leave. A plague of self-doubts stopped her.
Perhaps she was making a mistake. The rape counsellor had urged
patience. It was late. Mulder was probably asleep. He might not
even be home. And wasn't she making an assumption...that Mulder
would be as ready as she? No. She had seen his speculative glances;
his reticence didn't mean disinterest. She had needed the time and
space to heal. He only waited for her to say the word. 
     Scully knew all too well how unpredictable life was, and she
didn't want to waste another moment she could be spending with
Mulder. Quickly, she stepped out into the hallway and closed the
door behind her before she could change her mind.  

     At Mulder's, she rapped quietly before turning the key in the
lock and opening the door a crack. It was dark inside.
     "It's me."
     "Scully. Come in." 
     As she felt her way across the room, she heard the clunk of
his gun as he put it back on the coffee table. 
     "Turn on a light," he yawned, pushing himself upright.
     "No, this is fine. I'm sorry I woke you." She sat beside him.
The leather beneath her was warm from the heat of his body.
     "What's up? You okay?" 
     She put her bag on the table and slipped off her black canvas
runners. "I'm okay. I just felt like some company." Tucking her
feet under her, she wished she had the confidence to lean against
his sleepy bulk. His shoulders seemed much wider than she
remembered.
     He scrubbed one hand over his face, then studied her in
silence while she tried to keep a steady gaze.
     "Fridge all clean?"
     "Yes." She felt stupid and tongue tied. Why had she even
mentioned the fridge to him? 
     "Is there a significance to these clothes you're wearing?"
     "Yes." Her heart accelerated. He remembered as well as she did
what they had been doing, and the promise they had exchanged, the
last time she had worn these clothes. It was a relief to know she
wouldn't have to put her intentions into words.
     His long arm lifted to go around her and draw her in to his
side. Though she had been safe within his embrace many times
before, tonight a thrill of fear went through her as he took
possession of her. The confident strength in his movements made her
feel weak; his fragrance clouded her thoughts. Her skin hummed as
it waited for his touch. 
     He accepted her decision with no questions. Cradling her face
in one hand, he guided her into his gentle kiss. Anticipation had
her blood rushing through her veins. She knew her skin was already
flushed. Thank goodness it was too dark for him to see.
     "You smell heavenly," he breathed as he nuzzled about her ear
and kissed her cheek. He pressed his nose against hers. "If you
feel uncomfortable at any time, we can stop."
     "I won't want to stop." Her voice shook. Her whole body shook,
she wanted this so much. She knew he felt her shaking, but she
didn't care. He crushed her close and kissed her again, this time
without restraint. His lips bruised hers in eager skirmish. His
tongue came to her and drank from her and read her every mystery
like a blind man reading braille. This was what she hungered for.
Her mind emptied. She was free-falling, beyond control...
     He broke away with a breathless chuckle. "Kissing you is...so
easy." His husky murmur sounded surprised. 
     "That's what every girl wants to hear, Mulder...that she's
easy."
      Damn. Why did she have to notice she was losing control. As
soon as she noticed--as soon as she voiced it with her conscious
mind--it became impossible to do so. Now she was on guard and using
words to distance him, when losing control was exactly what she
wanted. 
     "I only meant that when I kiss you I feel...free. None of the
usual nagging fears and insecurities come creeping out to spoil
it." His arm tightened about her shoulders. "It's simple really.
You never lie to me. When you kiss me back I know this is something
I'm supposed to be doing...that for once I'm getting something
right."
     Her eyes stung with angry tears on his behalf. He would make
tasteless jokes about the most serious things, but only to prevent
the world from knowing him too well. Hidden underneath was a tender
romantic who craved approval and believed too easily. His heart
bore the scars. Condemning all those who had hurt him to eternal
damnation, she coaxed him closer for another kiss. "You certainly
do it well."
     And he did do it well. His bold, muscular tongue slipped in
and out of her, probing and retreating, erotic beyond fantasy. Her
body ached for the reality his kisses symbolized. She wanted to
give in to the fire in her belly. But her conscious mind would not
let go. 
     His free hand slid under her t-shirt, working slowly upward,
wooing her skin with promises designed to melt resistance. She
shifted her position and his hand dropped away. More kisses. Now
she felt the heat of his hand on her knee, sliding, following her
thigh, his fingers lightly trailing up the sensitive inner flesh
towards certain pleasure. She drew her legs together. His hand
cupped her breast through her shirt, his thumb moving around her
erect nipple in teasing circles. She could think of nothing but how
good it would feel when he finally took hold. Her arm came up to be
in the way.
     Mulder sat back with a sigh. Scully stayed still, tense with
misery. Why did she always have to be in control? What was she
afraid of? Please don't give up. Please try again.
     "You're sure you're ready for this?" His voice held nothing
but concern.
     "Yes." Relieved he wasn't angry, she was able to look into his
face. "Very sure." His beautiful soft eyes drew her to him
irresistibly. She was ready, but she was afraid...afraid it would
be too good. Afraid it would be so good she would lose herself in
him. 
     He reached out to stroke her hair, his expression one of
affection and good humour. "It's been my experience that these
things go more smoothly if there's only one driver." Putting his
arms about her again, he whispered into her ear. "I would like to
be the driver tonight. You can be the driver next time."
     She could not stop a smile. "Okay."
     He turned her, and leaned her over backwards so she was off
balance. She wanted to grab hold of something and right herself,
but he held her there. "Relax, Scully...now close your eyes.
Imagine you are standing on the end of a dock. You are going to
fall backwards off the dock into warm water. You are going to let
go. You are going to let yourself fall. The water will support
you."
     His strong arm still held her; it was a tangible fact. Her
logical mind knew that even if he drew his arm away, she would only
fall into his lap. But this was not about facts or logic. His voice
guided her in low, even tones...as if she were a frightened mare he
was leading to safety. With an effort she focused on his words and
followed him. 
     She imagined the dock beneath her bare toes. Rough,
sunbleached boards. She felt the straps of her swimsuit pressing
lightly on her shoulders. Sunshine kissed her skin. The water
lapped gently, deep and translucent. She knew it would feel
delicious. Leaning over backwards. Relax. It's okay. This is
something you want. Leaning over backwards.  Now...let go...
     Mulder was the water. Slow and sensuous, he played over her
body. Clothes floated away. Gently he explored and sampled with his
long fingers and his seductive lips. Waves rolled them to the
floor. The water grew warmer and she moved her limbs to soothe
their aching in its silky caress. His tongue washed over her,
indecent and persistent, flowing into all her secret places,
claiming them for his own pleasure. Giant swells lifted her,
dropped her, lifted her again. Their tropical heat did not refresh,
but left her fevered skin salty and damp. She voiced her thirst in
a moaning sigh. He responded immediately, looming over her like
Poseidon, entering her with a movement as undeniable and ageless as
the tides. The waves grew wild, filling her ears with a sibilant
pounding. Foaming breakers pulled her under and she lost her
bearings, but she was not afraid. The water still held her in an
intimate embrace, for as much as she needed the water, the water
needed her. Cresting unexpectedly through the silvery surface, her
vision became crystal clear. Her airless lungs were paralysed by
what approached. 
     Tsunami! Powerless before the thundering wall, she turned her
face into certain destruction and let it take her. Raw energy,
intense and violent. Tossing her like sea wrack. Pummelling all
human vanity back down to grains of sand. 
     Then calm. 
     Quenched. Cleansed. Too weak to move, she drifted in the
flooded shallows without thought, Mulder and the water warm and
heavy upon her. 


     Mulder lay on his side, his head propped up on one arm. He had
spread a blanket over them and now he was enjoying watching Scully
sleep. He had loved her for a long time but he had never felt such
tenderness for her as he did now. Reaching out to untangle a strand
of hair from her eyelashes, he couldn't help smiling. 
     Once he had gotten her to relax, she had taken all he offered
with a flattering and almost frightening appetite, giving herself
over to pleasure with the same intensity with which she approached
all other areas of her life. Orgasm had gripped and rocked her
until she was exhausted. She still lay exactly where it had dropped
her. 
     He could see the curve of her breast under the edge of the
blanket. Pulling the cover further down, he studied the pale pink
concentric circles. At last he was free to look at her body without
feelings of guilt, for she had given herself to him
unconditionally. He could not resist touching one nipple with an
inquisitive fingertip. Almost flat, soft and supple. Fascinating.
Essentially feminine. Unfamiliar. The number of women who had slept
so deeply by his side were few. Rolling her over, he wrapped
himself around her from behind, one arm across the swell of her
stomach and the other cupping the heaviness of one breast. At last
he was free to touch her in the ways he had always wanted to. 
     With privilege, of course, came responsibility. Now she had
let him in, he would have to be more careful than ever not to hurt
or harm her. He would have to try harder to be the man she believed
he could be. It would be worth it. To hold this woman, naked
against him...it was worth it. 


     Mulder's limp arm lay across her, its weight a protective
barrier between her and the grey dawn. She was warm and cosy, the
familiar purr of his snoring like music in her ear.
     Just as she feared...it had been too good. It had been so good
that she had lost herself. Completely. But only temporarily. She
was safely back at the helm, still on course, re-energised and
buoyantly happy. 
     She rolled over to look at him. Taken individually, his
features were not exceptionally handsome. (His nose, for instance,
was not a nose she would ever have dreamed she'd fall in love
with.) But when you put them all together and animated them with
the humour and passion that was Mulder, he became beautiful. He was
beautiful to her. 
     He could be so blind and pig-headed about some things, but he
could also be so sensitive and caring that it reduced her to tears.
Intuitively, he had understood her problem. Without fuss, without
embarrassment, he had helped her over a barrier of her own making
so they could enjoy themselves fully. Her dignity was still intact
and she loved him all the more. It would never be so difficult
again.
     She wanted to wake him, but she could wait. A smile played on
her lips as she imagined all the things she would do to him...next
time...when she got to drive.  

end

Comments to Eleanore at  bonyun@oanet.com

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