From: "A. R." Date: Sun, 28 Mar 1999 20:32:57 PST Subject: Sick Day Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully do NOT, I repeat, do NOT belong to me. They are the property of 20th Century Fox, 1013 Productions, and Chris Carter. If you wanna argue about it, you can take that up with them, but the characters, once again, do NOT belong to me. Sick Day by conspiracy Rated: NC-17 (but only the very end) Classification: MSR Spoilers: No major ones I can think of, but it has all led up to this, so I can't be sure there wasn't a mention of another plot somewhere in there. Summary: Mulder gets sick and Scully takes care of him. The story evolves. ;) I never thought I'd live to see the day that Fox Mulder stayed home sick. True, it *is* a Saturday, so technically there's no reason for him to be anywhere else, but for Mulder, simply an admission of ill health and curling up in a blanket all day instead of going in to do extra work or at least going over a couple of case files at home is just the same. Of course he never actually spends the entire weekend at the office, but he usually does something pertaining to work. Not today, though. I could hardly contain my laughter when I got a phone call this morning from a weary, stuffed up Mulder wondering if I could come over and check on him because he wasn't feeling too well. He sounded so embarrassed to be asking that I figured he must be desperate. I did actually start to laugh when I got here to his apartment a half hour later to find him wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, unshaven with his hair clumped in a mess on top of his head. He explained his symptoms to me as if he were in for a check-up with his family doctor, I took his temperature, and put him back to "bed" on his couch as I went to the kitchen to find something for him to eat. Of course, the only thing Mulder had in his fridge was a jug of orange juice well-past it's expiration date, and I had to slip out to the store while he was sleeping. Now I'm back in the kitchen fixing him a health shake in the blender. I don't know why, but I think I like taking care of him like this. It's kind of a mothering instinct I suppose. In many ways Mulder does remind me of a small child. "What are you makin' Scully?" he calls from the other room. "I wasn't aware I had anything other than a two-year-old bottle of Sunny Delight." I smile. "You didn't. I had to go to the store while you were asleep." I finish mixing together the combination of fruits, vegatables, and vitamin supplements and upon a quick survey of the kitchen realize that there are no clean dishes. I find a semi-clean glass which I quickly wash out and poor the contents of the blender into it. I then rinse off a spoon that appears to have been used for cereal the previous morning and bring it and the drink back to Mulder. Seeing me coming, he sits up too quickly, causing a brief fit of dizziness before he regains his focus. His arms are occupied with the task of holding the blanket tightly around him, and I don't want him to get cold. Moving the coffee table away from the couch slightly, I grab his desk chair and set it directly infront of him, sitting myself down on it while holding the shake in my left hand. He looks over me with an amused grin. "You gonna feed me?" I smile back at him. "No use in you getting cold trying to hold the blanket and the glass at the same time." "Well I could always feed myself while *you* keep me warm." This earns him another smile. "You know I'd love to, but if I get to close I might catch your cold." He smiles, obviously caught off-guard that I am actually playing along rather than throwing him my usual "not amused" look. I slowly remove the spoon from the glass, taking some of the thick liquid with it, and move it towards Mulder's mouth. He parts his lips and winces at his first taste of the shake. "God, Scully, I hate to tell you this, but you're a horrible cook." "And you're gonna have to down this whole glass if you wanna get better." Again, we smile at each other. I don't know that I've ever smiled this much with Mulder before. He seems amazed at my readiness to go along with his quips and return his smiles and glances. And I suppose I am as well. I continue to feed him the contents of the glass a spoonful at a time, and he continues to wince and throw me disgusted looks with every gulp. After a few good spoonfuls, I miss my target and some of the grayish-orange substance ends up on the side of his mouth. I reach out with my right hand to wipe it away. As I slide my index finger over the corner of his mouth, he parts his lips and moves forward slightly, taking my finger in his mouth. His eyes are locked on mine. I feel his tongue move in slow circles around my fingertip as his teeth gently hold it in place. He has a mischievious look in his eyes that sends a dangerous sensation through me right to my core. I swear that if I was standing my knees would give out. After a few moments, he releases my finger and I draw my hand back slowly. "Tastes better that way," he remarks simply. "Why can't I seem to fight back the sneaking suspicion that you're feigning it?" I ask with a slight grin. "How could you even suggest such a thing?" He smiles. "Besides, what reason is there to play hooky? It's not even a school day." "Yeah, well if you really are sick, you're not helping my chances any by getting your germs all over my hand." He grins mischieviously. "Oh, but Agent Scully, it's all part of my master plan. Then *I'll* have to take care of *you*." "Oh yeah? What exactly do you have in mind?" "Oh, you know, I was thinking maybe a Vaporub massage..." He winks in exaggeration. "And of course, my famous chicken rice soup." "You cook, Mulder?" I don't try to hide my surprise. "I bet you'd be surprised." "I'm sure I would be." I smile at him, enjoying the oppenness of our conversation as well as the lack of seriousness- a very rare combination with Mulder and me. "Maybe I'll just have to get myself sick and take you up on that offer." "Why wait? You could be coming down with something right now. Let's break out the Vaporub." "You're not getting out of it that easily," I say, motioning to the not half-empty glass I still hold in my hand. "Caught," he says in feigned frustration. I resume feeding him spoonfuls of the shake until it's gone and then leave him on the couch to go clean up my mess in the kitchen. ********************************************* After washing the dishes I've used- and the others out of habit- I slowly walk back into the other room, trying not to disturb Mulder who is snoring softly. I sit back down in the desk chair, still in it's place next to the couch. Mulder seems to be sleeping peacefully- lying on his back, clinging to the blanket, his mouth slightly open. He looks so innocent when he's asleep. I want to keep him this way forevor. I fear the day when he will lose his innocence, those child-like beliefs he's always held on to. "The truth is out there." What an idealistic statement. Hid behind the apparent cynicism of a man who would use the same breath to utter the words "trust no one." I have to smile at this. Despite the nicknames and the looks, no one could ever call Mulder cliche. No matter how I tried that first year we worked together, every time I thought I had him figured out, he'd do something else that would completely blow me away. He stirs in his sleep and I fear that he will wake up. Not that I don't enjoy his company, but I want a few more moments to myself to just look at him. This man who has saved my life a thousand times, yet still seems embarrassed to call me when he's not feeling well. He stirs again and opens his eyes slightly, blinded at first by the sunlight streaming through the window. "You lookin' at me?" He asks in the best Italian accent that can be expected of someone just awakened from a sickness-induced sleep. I don't answer, just smile at him. "Well, there ain't no one else here so you must be lookin' at me." He smiles and then closes his eyes again, trying to gather up the energy to lift his head. A few seconds pass by and he rolls over onto his side, facing me and propping himself up on one elbow. "How long have you been sittin' there?" "About 5 minutes." I look over him a little as he closes his eyes again. "How are you feeling?" "I was actually feeling a lot better earlier, but I'm a little stuffed up again. I think I've got a sinus head-ache." He winces a little and rubs his eyes with his left hand. I pause for a few seconds, then come to a decision. "Lose the shirt." "You comin' on to me, Scully?" "Just lose the shirt, Mulder." "Yes ma'am." He starts to comply as I leave the room and go back into the kitchen where I left my grocery bag. I take out the bottle of Vaporub and return to Mulder holding it up in explanation before he can throw me a questioning look. "Wow, Scully, and I was just kidding before. Looks like all my fantasies *are* coming true today." I give him a half-amused, half-scolding look and sit back down in the chair beside him. "Lay flat on your back." I order, not looking into his eyes for fear that I'll see that same look as before. He obeys and I slowly squeeze some of the cold cream onto his chest, them lightly smear it around with my fingers. The touch is electric, and I want to rub harder, but know that it's not necessary and don't want to give away my real intentions. "I just got very turned on." Yeah, well you're not the only one. I nearly burst out laughing. Dana Katherine, what *has* gotten into you? I keep my eyes on his chest as I gently spread some more of the cream up a little further. "Just breath deeply." I order softly. He does, though the command is directed at myself more than at him. I go back into the kitchen and grab a rag which I begin to use to wipe my hands as I re-enter the other room. "Is that helping any?" "Yeah, actually." He stays flat on his back looking up at the ceiling. On an impulse, I walk over to him and place a tender kiss on his brow. He smiles up at me. "Scully?" "Yeah?" He pauses. "Nothing." I sit back down in my chair and talk with him for a little while longer. After a couple more hours of looking after him, I go home. ************************************************* It is only a little past 7:00 when I enter my apartment, but I'm tired and decide to go to bed. I'll call Mulder in the morning to see how he's feeling. As I walk past the answering machine, I press the "PLAY BACK MESSAGES" button and walk into my room, throwing my jacket over the back of a chair. I can hear the electronic voice through my open bedroom door as I begin to change into my flannel pajamas. "You have two messages." "Hello, Dana? It's mom. I just wanted to call and see if you'd like to get together for dinner next weekend, sweety. I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages. Call me when you hear this. Love you." -BEEP- "Hey Scully, it's me." Mulder? I'm surprised to hear his voice so soon after leaving his apartment. There is a long pause. "Well, I guess you're not screening, you must not be home yet. There's no need to call me back." Another pause, shorter this time. "I guess I'll see you in the office on Monday." -BEEP- Mulder's voice seemed almost... nervous, but why would he be nervous calling me? And why call so soon if there was no reason for me to call him back? Oh well, I'll call him in the morning, I again tell myself. Grabbing the portable phone from it's place in what I've taken to calling the "living room," I go back into my bedroom and get in bed, speed dialing my mother's number. "Hello?" "Hi mom." "Dana." I can actually hear the smile in her voice. "I was just calling you back. I got your message." "Where were you today?" I think for a moment, but figure that there can't be much harm in telling her. "At Mulder's apartment. He was sick." "Really?" I hate the tone in her voice. It is the tone she uses every time I talk about Mulder. The same tone she used when I was in 7th grade and she suspected that I "liked" a boy, and it annoys me just as much now as it did then. "How is Fox doing?" "*Mulder* seems to be doing much better. He just had a head cold." She must sense that I am getting annoyed with this subject. "So, do you have any plans for next weekend, sweety?" The conversation continues and we set plans for dinner next Saturday before I hang up the phone and go to sleep. ***************************************************** Sunday goes by like any other. I do some grocery shopping and a little cleaning. I attempt to call Mulder several times, but get no answer- he must be feeling better if he's out and about. I keep busy with these simple chores for most of the day and go to bed, hoping Mulder has something interesting planned for tomorrow to get me back into the routine of spontaneity. ***************************************************** I walk into the office Monday morning around 7:00. Mulder is already here, sitting at his desk, going through some papers. He still doesn't notice me as I approach the desk to within 2 feet of him. "Engrossed in your work?" I ask with a slight grin. He catches the joke and throws me a lop-sided smile. "No, just some magazine." I smile and roll my eyes at him. "So what is that, really?" "Expense reports. Just trying to catch up." "Where were you yesterday? I tried calling to see if you were feeling better." "Well, I'm feeling fine. You cured me Scully." He smiles. "I was just doing some grocery shopping, wandering around. I thought maybe I should actually have some food in the apartment." He suddenly becomes slightly more serious. "I just wanted to thank you for coming over on Saturday, Scully. You didn't have to." "What do you mean, 'I didn't have to?' It's not like I had any other plans. Besides, it was... fun." I walk over and sit at my desk, taking my brief case and some of the expense reports with me. I begin to work on them when I feel Mulder's eyes on me. I am not uncomfortable in his gaze, never have been, but I wonder at it now. I glance up to catch him looking away hurriedly, trying not to be caught staring. "Mulder?" "Huh?" he asks, glancing up and feigning innocence. "Was there something you wanted to tell me?" "No. Why?" "Oh nothing." Fine. If he's gonna play that game, I just won't bother. We continue to do paperwork in silence for about half an hour, and I continue to almost catch him staring at me. I wonder if he is playing some sort of game or if he is simply getting distracted. But distracted by what? I finish with my stack of paper work and walk over to his desk, setting the forms on its corner with the other finished ones. "Done?" he asks. I nod. He hurries to finish his last form as I watch him, waiting beside his desk. He sets the last paper on top of the stack and scoots his chair out from the desk, standing and stretching. "We've got a meeting with Skinner in about an hour," he informs me. "I hadn't really anticipated being done with all this paperwork before then, so there's not really anything that needs to be done at this particular moment." He moves around the desk so that we are on the same side and leans up against it about a foot away from where I stand. He looks at me seriously. "I really had fun this weekend, too." "You had fun being sick?" I ask, pretending not to know his meaning. "Well, having you there balanced out my discomfort." He looks down at my hand, which rests on the corner of the desk. *Tastes better that way* I smile and when I look up at his face I see that same mischevous look that was there before. But as we begin to stare into each other's eyes, his features soften, and he suddenly looks much less sure of himself. He brings his hand up to my face, and my chin slightly tilts upward at the gentle urging of his fingertips. He leaves his spot leaning on the desk and stands up straight as I step closer to him. We are close enough that I can feel his breath on my face, but not close enough. He dips his head down to my hieght and our lips gently press together. For the few moments as our lips linger, niether of us wanting to break the gentle kiss, I cannot open my eyes or even breath. My heart stops and I welcome the effect of the moment seemingly being frozen in time. Suddenly I hear someone behind me clear their throat. The moment is gone and I whip around to see Skinner standing in the doorway. My heart races. I glance at Mulder briefly, who seems to share my confusion at how to respond to this situation. Looking back at Skinner, I realize that he, too, looks equally confused and embarrassed. "Sir" is the only word that I can force past my lips. "Am I interrupting something, Agent Scully? Agent Mulder?" Mulder and I glance at each other. *How long has he been standing there?* I wonder. "No, sir," Mulder answers, mortified. Skinner looks over both of us one last time, seemingly unsure how to deal with this situation. "I trust you'll both be in my office in..." He looks at his watch. "... a couple minutes?" "Yes, sir," I assure him. "Good." With that, he heads up the stares, leaving Mulder and me silent for several moments. After a long silence. "What are we supposed to tell him?" I ask, turning back to Mulder. "The truth. It was a one-time thing. Nothing's going on. It's never happened before..." "It'll never happen again?" I ask, a lump sinking in my throat. He stares at me, a look of sadness on his face. It reminds me of a look I've seen before. A look in a poorly lit hallway just after a confession of need. I want to comfort him, want to tell him I feel the same way and that everything will be fine. "We better get up there," he says. ******************************************************** Mulder and I enter Skinner's office together and the secretary tells us to go right in, Assistant Director Skinner's been waiting for us. I enter the inner office first, and Mulder follows. We sit in the two seats in front of Skinner's desk, trying not to look at him directly. He gets up from his desk to go shut the door, then returns and sits down, taking his time before speaking. "This meeting was originally to give you a new case, a health crisis in Idaho involving some type of disease that is, as of yet, unidentifiable. It still is. However, I will address another matter first." He pauses, staring down at a spot on the desk rather than at either of us. "Walking into your office this morning, I witnessed something which normally would be none of my business- if it had not happened at work. I am not going to ask you to explain yourselves, nor am I going to ask you to answer any questions about this incident because I feel that it is not my business or the bureau's. However, if this is something that has been taking place, or that you intend to continue, it must be handled in private. If ever something of this nature were to happen again while at work, it would be hard for me to in good concience not recomend that the two of you be split up and recieve different partners." "Sir-" "I don't want to hear it, Agent Mulder. Have I made myself clear?" "Yes sir." "Agent Scully?" "Yes sir." "Now then, about this case..." As he goes into the details of the new case I feel myself let out a sigh of relief that he didn't ask us to explain ourselves, simply because I'm not sure that I could. I pretend to listen as Mulder asks questions about the case and travel arrangements, and when finally the meeting ends I realize that I haven't heard any of it. ******************************************************* It is now about 5:30 p.m. Although Skinner gave us the case in Idaho this morning, we don't leave until tomorrow, and basically spent most of the day sorting through various files and things that Mulder had set aside to do durring the weekend, then gotten sick and forgotten about. "You got any plans tonight, Scully?" Mulder asks from his desk, looking down at a file. "No. Why?" "I was just thinking. How would you like a nice home-cooked meal tonight?" He looks up at me, leaning back, the folder still in his hands. "Home-cooked?" I ask in slight disbelief. "I told you I can cook. I fix a mean lasanga." I smile at him, trying to hold back a little chuckle. "Sure. Why not." "Great. Let's say eight o'clock, my place?" Again I smile, and nod in agreement. Sounds fun. *********************************************** I arrive at Mulder's apartment at 7:53 p.m. Walking up to his door I can smell the faint aroma of tomato sauce. I knock, and am startled by the delicious smell that hits me as Mulder opens the door. "Smells great." I coment as he ushers me inside and helps me off with my coat. An unusually large smile is plastered on his face and I can't help but wonder at what exactly he has in store. "Yeah, well, wait until you taste it." "Humble, are we?" He smiles, heading back into the kitchen from wenst he came. I take a moment to look around and notice the apartment much cleaner than usual. "Do a little tidying up this Sunday, Mulder?" I call into the kitchen. "What?" He calls back. "Oh! Yeah, I did. Do you like it?" "Seems almost liveable," I tease, sitting down on the couch. After a few minutes, he reenters the room and sits down beside me. I take a moment to look over him. He is wearing a light-green faded t-shirt and a pair of old jeans that are also faded and beginning to ware at the knees. On anyone else, it would have just been casual, but he looks... delicious. As soon as I think this I scold myself. Yes, I enjoyed this Saturday, but I was just helping out a friend. That's what friends do, they take care of each other. But what about that kiss? What about him-- I don't know how else to describe it-- sucking on my finger? Those things weren't just friendly. No, but they didn't necessarily mean anything, either. Both times we were just... caught up in the moment. But if they didn't mean anything, why were there even moments to get caught up in? "Penny for your thoughts, Scully?" His words snap me out of my trance. "Huh?" "Watcha thinkin' about?" He is staring at me with a small contented smile that I can't help but return. "Nothing. I was just, uh, spacing out I guess." "Yeah, you've been doing that quite a bit lately." His smile turns into a teasing grin. "What do you mean?" "Don't think I didn't notice you staring off during our meeting with Skinner. I bet you didn't hear a word." "Yes I did," I say, getting a little defensive. "Okay then, what did we talk about?" "The usual. This new case, travel arrangements." "Uh-hu, and what exactly is this 'new case'?" I immediately remember Skinner's brief description at the beginning of the meeting. "An unidentifiable disease in Idaho." "Oh yeah? What kind of disease?" he asks, eyes wide and smiling as he watches me search for words. Hey, I've gotten this far, might as well take a stab at it. "One... that... may... be... extra-terrestrial in nature," I improvise. "Lucky guess," he says, standing and beginning to head for the kitchen. "What do you mean, 'guess'?" I call after him with a smile. So predictable. I hear various clanking sounds from the kitchen and wonder if maybe he needs a little help. "Anything I can do?" I call, already making my way towards that part of the apartment. He answers me just as loud as I asked as I enter the kitchen. "No, you stay right where you are." "To late." He whips around, startled at my soft reply. "If you need any help, Mulder, I really don't mind." He begins to protest, then looks around, shrugs, and hands me a plate of garlic bread. "Here, take this." The plate is warm in my hands as I carry it out and set it on the coffee table. Mmm, it smells so good. Mulder is right behind me with the lasanga and a kitchen towel draped over his arm. He nods towards the towel. "Can you grab that?" I do, and set it down on the coffee table next to the bread as Mulder sets the lasanga dish on the towel. He then goes back into the kitchen and returns with two plates, two wine glasses, and a bottle of red wine. I watch as he takes a box of matches and lights about five or six candles that have been placed strategically around the room, then turns off the lamp. "Wow, Mulder. A candlelight dinner. I never thought I'd live to see the day." He returns the smile I'm giving him and joins me on the couch, then begins to dish up some lasanga for me. I watch him in silence, not able to keep the corners of my mouth from curving slightly upward. He finishes with my plate and hands it to me, then dishes up his own and pours two glasses of wine. I set my plate on my lap as I take a glass from him. Finally he turns to me and holds his glass up. "What shall we drink to, Agent Scully?" I think for a moment. "Happiness." It's all I can come up with, but is important, just the same. He looks at me for a moment, and I am unable to read his expression. Then he raises his glass towards me. "Alright, then. To happiness." We smile at each other as I raise my glass to meet his and take a small sip of the wine, my eyes locked on him, even though he is looking away. With this, we both begin to eat in silence. The food is wonderful, and I tell him so. It's amazing he's kept this from me so long. If I'd known Mulder was such a good cook I would have taken advantage of it a long time ago. But I am still confused as to what exactly is going through his mind, what he hopes to accomplish tonight. Does he want to continue what we started in the office? Is he trying to say thank you for this weekend? Although I try my best to push these feelings back, part of me hopes to god it's the first one. "Mulder, what are we doing?" I ask, putting down my fork and breaking the easy silence that had taken over the room. "What do you mean? We're eating," he replies innocently. This only slightly frustrates me. "You know exactly what I mean. What are we doing? What is this supposed to accomplish?" "What is what supposed to accomplish?" "This!" I raise my voice and motion towards the wine and the candles. "I don't know. I just... I just thought..." He looks me in the eyes and I know I must look frustrated. I see a change in him that I don't like. The happiness and easy going attitude he's had all night fades from his eyes and he lets out a soft sigh, looking down at his near empty plate. "I don't know what I thought, Scully, to tell you the truth." There is a long silence and it occurs to me that I am the cause for this new uneasiness. Why do I always do this? Why can't I just let myself be happy? I lood down at my half-empty plate of lasanga and suddenly begin to feel sick. Not from the food, just a sick feeling in my belly that I know has nothing to do with my health. At least not my physical health. "Mulder-" I begin. "No, Scully, it's okay. I'm sorry I did this to you. I just thought that maybe what happened this morning in the office was... never mind, obviously I was wrong." "What? What did you think about this morning?" "Forget it, Scully. I don't wanna go into this." Now he seems to be getting frustrated. I set my plate down on the coffee table and scoot closer to him, putting my arm around his shoulders, but he won't look at me. He is turned away from me. "Mulder..." "I don't wanna talk about it right now." "Well then when *are* we gonna talk about it?" He looks at me and I can see that he's hurt, hiding behind anger as he often does. But when I look into his eyes, that anger begins to fade and finally he relaxes a little. It is strange to me that I'm the one forcing him to open up. It's always seemed to be the other way around. "Scully, do you..." There is a long pause, and I allow him time to find the words. "Today was not the first time that I've wanted to, well..." He moves his hand between us to illistrate. "Me either." I admit. He raises his eyebrows. There is another long pause. I don't know how much further I want to go with this conversation right now. I know I was the one who forced us to have it, but I'm suddenly scared of where it could lead. "Why don't we finish eating?" I say, motioning towards the food. He seems relieved to have a change of subject as well and agrees. The rest of the evening goes rather smoothly, and I leave around 9:45 after a nice chat, but, aside from a few awkward pauses when we are both obviously wondering about it, the subject isn't brought up again the whole night. ************************************************ Tuesday morning I wake up bright and early to go pick up Mulder so we can get to the airport by 7:30. I arrive at his apartment around 6:45, knowing it'll take a while to get from there to the airport. Approaching his door, I knock a few times and wait. "Coming!" he calls from inside. Soon the door opens to reveal Mulder, hair still suffering from pillow-head, working on tying his tie. "C'mon in," he offers, "it'll be a few minutes." I walk into the apartment and sit down on the couch, not bothering to remove my coat, as Mulder shuts the door behind me and disappears into the bathroom. Minutes later, he reappears only to race into the kitchen, grab a cup of coffee, and come back out to pick up his suitcase off the floor next to the coffee table where it had been set earlier. "Ready?" I ask, standing, taking a step towards the door, and turning back around to see his response. He raises his coffee cup to his mouth, then looks up to see me waiting and nods in mid-sip, heading for the door as I open it for him. *********************************************** About 5 minutes into our drive to the airport, Mulder reaches over and places his hand on my thigh. I take my eyes off the road momentarily to throw him a questioning glance, but he just smiles and leaves it there. After a few more mintutes of this, I can't take it anymore. I have to break the silence. "Mulder, I think we need to talk," I begin. "Shhhh..." He uses his free hand to put a finger to his lips. The rest of the trip is in silence. Though I continue to feel the need to say something for a while, I slowly begin to feel comfortable without words, with the feel of his hand on my leg the only vehicle of communication. It is soothing and reassuring, though I'm not quite sure what exactly the source of my need for soothing and reassurance is. His hand stays where it is until we reach the airport, and when it leaves, I find myself missing the small physical connection between us. ************************************************** Two days later, Thursday night, I find myself lying awake in bed listening to Mulder move around in the adjacent motel room. Officially, we're still investigating the "mysterious disease" that has killed three woman in this rural Idaho town, but it didn't even take the entire couple days we've been here to figure out that the disease wasn't given to these women, which is the claim we were called in on. In fact, this "disease" turned out to not even be a disease, but rather an almost undetectable form of food poisoning caused by a local restaraunt using rare ingredients in a special type of sauce that had gone bad. Anyhow, the case has been turned over to the local health department and we're scheduled on a flight back to Washington in the morning. Mulder seems almost disappointed by the outcome, but I'm just happy to be going home. So I lay awake in my motel room, not tired enough to sleep, yet not quite awake enough to actually do anything. For some reason, Mulder has left open the door that connects our two rooms, and I am able to hear him as he walks about in his room, presumably getting ready for bed, or perhaps packing for the trip home tomorrow. I don't know why, but it is comforting to simply lie here and listen. It makes me feel less alone somehow, to be able to hear him fumbling around in the next room. I am turned away from the door, facing the wall and the air conditioner. My eyes are open, but I do not really focus on anything- just listen. I try to picture him, what he is doing with each sound. I can clearly see him walking around his room, picking up files and pictures that he has surrounded himself in as he often does with cases we investigate. When I stay in a motel room, I rarely unpack my clothes. Mulder has it looking like home- or the office (it's hard to distinguish between the two when it comes to Mulder's decorating techniques)- within an hour. I hear him start to approach the door. I wonder if I will still be able to hear if it is closed. But he doesn't close it. Instead, I am aware of the distinct silence of someone who is trying to remain unknown, and I can *feel* his eyes on me. Physically *feel* them. I stay completely still, for some reason not wanting him to know that I'm awake. Soft footsteps move towards my bedside slowly and quietly. They stop only a few feet from my bed and remain. I wait for several minutes- or at least it feels like several minutes- and am no longer able to keep still. I turn my head slightly and feign suprise as I spot him, then roll over to my other side so that I am facing him. "Mulder," I say with a tone that hints at "what a pleasent surprise." He is dressed only in boxer shorts which catches me slightly off guard. I look him over once, maybe twice, as he stares down at me. I am comfortable in his gaze, yet at the same time confused by it. "Hey." He looks down at me with a pleasent, yet unreadable expression and again I wonder at why he's here. "Did you want something?" I ask casually, pretending not to know that he's been standing here for the past five minutes without even trying to wake me. "Nah, I just couldn't sleep." "So you thought you'd come watch me?" There is a hint of sarcasm in my voice and I hope he doesn't take it in the wrong way. "Yeah, I like to watch." We smile amused smiles at each other and I finally sit up, uncomfortable with the distance between us with me lying down and him standing. He follows my lead and sits down beside me on the bed, still looking at me. Now this is getting ridiculous. "Really, Mulder, what are you doing in here?" He looks away, straight out into space. "Oh, I dunno. I just thought... I don't know what I thought. I was lonely." He looks at me again. Where I expected sarcasm or childishness, there is only seriousness in his expression. "Lonely?" I ask, slightly concerned at his shift in gears. "Yeah, Scully. Don't you ever get lonely?" "Yeah, but..." I look into his eyes again. Still a little confused at just what he's trying to accomplish here. With Mulder there's always a reason. "What exactly do you mean?" "Never mind." He remains seated, staring off into space, seemingly comfortable with the silence. After a couple minutes, he turns to me. "Scully?" "Hmm?" "Do you ever..." He cuts himself off, searching for different words. "Have you..." Again, he pauses, biting his lower lip gently. "Have you ever thought about what it would be like to kiss?" "What?" "You, know: you, me. Have you ever thought about it?" I cock an eyebrow and give him a slightly confused look. Where did this come from? "Thought about what?" "Kissing." I pause. "But we have." "No, I mean *really* kissing." He raises his eyebrows in emphasis and I can't help but smile. Still, I'm a little thrown back by this sudden turn in the conversation. And how exactly am I supposed to answer this question, anyway? I thought I already did answer it in his apartment the other night. Does he just need to hear it again? What if he's joking? Mulder can have a rather odd sense of humor. I choose my words carefully and slowly. "I've... thought about it." "Well?" What exactly is he saying? "Now?!" "Why not?" I don't believe I'm hearing this. "Why not?!" He chuckles a little at my overly-shocked expression. "C'mon, Scully, you know you want to." He smiles mischieviously. "All I said was that I've thought about it!" Again he laughs at my response. I have to start laughing too, I can't help it. Mulder's laughter is contagious. We both quickly recover and Mulder begins to stare at me again with a slight smile on his face. "Seriously?" I ask, dumbfounded. He again turns to face out into the room. "It doesn't have to mean anything. Just one kiss, just to see what it's like. It goes nowhere, it means nothing." He turns back to face me. "Well, if it doesn't mean anything, then what's the point?" "Are you telling me that it *would* mean something?" He stares at me and our eyes meet. "I don't know, I just don't see the point." He turns away. "Maybe there is no point, Scully. Maybe not everything needs to have one." His voice suddenly seems very distant. I'm confused by the change of attitude. "Mulder?" I place a hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him, but he shakes it off, raising a hand of dismissal. "No, no, it's fine." He gets up to leave. "It's probably time I get to bed, anyway. See you in the morning." He starts to head for the door. Then it occurs to me that maybe he's more hurt by my declination than he's letting on. What if he was simply trying to make the first move and I came off like I wasn't interested? I've never really been good at that sort of thing. I always had more important things to do than learn how to "flirt." "Mulder, wait." He turns, eyebrows slightly raised in a questioning look. "One kiss." He gets a surprised expression on his face, then quickly tries to cover it. "Hey, Scully, it's your call, I wasn't trying to make you do anything you didn't want to." "No, you're right. I have thought about it. One kiss, just to see what it's like." He cocks his head slightly to one side as he heads back over to where I still sit on the edge of the bed. "Okay, if you're sure." I stand as he approaches the bed and bite the corner of my lip, not sure exactly how to go about this. I look up into his eyes and instantly feel a million butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. His eyes are so soft and deep. Pools of brown and green liquid reflecting his very soul. He reaches out and curves his fingers around the line of my jaw oh-so-softly, my knees threatening to give out at the touch. I tilt my chin upward slightly at the gentle urging of his fingers, and we just stare into each other's eyes for an endless moment. He seems unsure, as if he thinks that I'm only doing this for his sake and don't really want it myself. I try to convey just how much I do want this through my eyes and can tell when I've succeeded. He slowly dips his head down as I close my eyes and I feel his lips press against mine, warm and soft. We simply stand there, with our lips pressed together softly, for several moments, and then I open my mouth slightly and let the tip of my tongue slowly trace the part of his lips. He opens his mouth and his tongue slowly snakes out as well as we begin a series of soft, lazy kisses. I nibble on his bottom lip and he begins to kiss with a little more force. After what seems like an eternity, we both simultaneously pull away slowly. and simply look at each other. "So *that's* what it's like," he says raising his eyebrows in emphasis. We smile at each other, on the verge of laughing, but still too shocked by what has just taken place to actually let it out. We continue to simply stand there next to the bed, gazing at each other in awe with small, contented smiles. "So, I guess I should go," he says, making no movement whatsoever towards the door. "Yeah," I say. Niether of us move, just continue to stare into each other's eyes. Finally he breaks the stare and looks downward with a little chuckle and I have to join him. "I-uh..." He motions towards the door with his thumb, returning his eyes to mine. "I should really be..." He smiles at his own loss for words. "Yeah." I smile back at him and nod. After several more seconds of standing there, not wanting to leave, but knowing he should, he finally begins to move for the doorway. When he reaches it he turns back to look at me one last time, still smiling, before stepping across the threshold and closing the door behind him. When the door is shut, I find myself feeling strangely alone. He has only just left, and is still only on the other side of the door, but I find myself almost missing him already. Aside from the lonliness, however, I can't remember ever feeling as happy as I do now. It's hard to tell for sure if I ever have been. *Didn't mean a thing* I smile to myself as I get back into bed. It takes me at least an hour before I am able to sleep, and when sleep does come it is filled with dreams that won't be remembered when I awake, but all of which are happy ones. ******************************************** We arrive back in Washington the next day around 1 p.m. and pick up our luggage quickly, in a hurry to head home. I left my car at the airport last Tuesday, so I drive Mulder to his apartment before going home myself. Arriving at my apartment around 2:30, I go inside and drop my bags and my overcoat on the floor in my bedroom. It's Friday, but I called Skinner from the plane and he gave us the rest of the day off seeing as the case we've been investigating requires no immediate attention. Wanting to get comfortable, I change out of my work clothes and into a gray sweatshirt and jeans, sprawling myself out on the couch with a book I bought a month ago, but never found the time to start, and am just about to begin reading when... the phone rings. I pick up the cordless that is on the coffee table next to me and answer the shrill ringing with a slightly irritated "Scully." "Hey Scully, it's me." "What is it, Mulder?" I'm not annoyed by him, just his lack of good-timing. "Happy to hear from me?" he asks sarcastically. "No, it's not you, Mulder. I was just about to start reading a book." "What book?" "A Time To Kill." "Ooh, John Grisham. Good movie." "Yes, well, I prefer enjoyment of the more mentally stimulating sort." I smile at my own quip. I find it fascinating that someone as intelligent as Mulder can spend so much time in front of the television without frying their brain. "Speaking of stimulating," he begins suggestively. "I was wondering if you'd care to dine with me this evening?" "Ooh, how very formal." I smile at his tone of voice. "Indeed. There's this cosy little restaraunt that just openned down the street from me and I've been looking for an excuse to go check it out. A Friday off seems just the occasion, don't you think?" "What's this cosy little restaurant? A new McDonald's?" I ask half-sarcastically, knowing his usual preferance in dining establishments. "Actually Burger King." He says with a smile that is evident in his voice. "Mulder, really?" I ask, almost whining. "No." He lets out a little chuckle. "Actually it's a new Chinese food place. How's about it, Scully? I'll treat ya." I smile. "Why not." "Great. Then afterwards, I was thinking we could go to my place and..." "And what?" I ask with a hint of warning in my voice. "Watch a movie," he says in mock innocence and shock. "What else would we do alone in my apartment?" he asks. "I was wondering the same thing." "So I'll pick you up around eight?" "Better make it 7:30." "Alright then, 7:30 it is. I'll see you then, Dr. Scully." I hang up the phone without saying good-bye, something not unusual in conversations with Mulder. I re-adjust myself on the couch and look at my closed book, which for some reason no longer seems at all appealing. Frustrated at my own attention span, I set the book on the coffee table and sit up straight, wondering what to do now. And then a thought strikes me. What should I wear tonight? I've never really thought about what to wear going out with Mulder. The only times we've ever "gone out" have been during work or right after, leaving me no choice but work clothes. This leads me to an even stranger thought. Is this a date? Things have been changing between us this past week. Who am I kidding, it started long before this week, but in the past 6 days things *have* been moving quite a bit faster. I mean, we kissed for god's sake! Twice, I remind myself. And now Mulder's taking me out. He's actually coming over to my apartment and picking me up with the intention of going out to dinner and then returning to his place to watch a movie. I didn't really think anything of it on the phone, but now I realise just how much this really is like a date, and just what exactly the implications of that are. I mean kissing- both times- could be taken as nothing. I know that's not true, but if I really wanted to, I could tell myself they didn't mean anything. But this-- this is premeditated! I almost crack up laughing. I make going on a date sound like a crime. I debate calling Mulder to ask him what I should wear, but that feels just a little bit too wierd. I decide that I have 4 or 5 hours to worry about it, so I should be fine. *********************************************** I am checking myself over in the mirror frantically when Mulder arrives. I feel like a teenager, and it's strange to me that I should be so worried about my appearence. *It's just Mulder* I keep telling myself, but it doesn't seem to help. Actually, it almost makes me more nervous, realizing that this is an area of our lives that Mulder and I have never really known each other that well in, and that tonight is almost like a first date even though I have known the person for 6 years. "Coming," I call in response to Mulder's knocking on the door. I open it cautiously and smile. He looks me over and blinks a few times in emphasis. "Wow, Scully. I can't remember the last time I saw you in jeans." I give him "very funny" smile and look down at myself. I finally decided on a black sweater and a pair of *very* tight jeans. "What about last Saturday?" I ask, referring to Mulder's little "sick day." "Yeah, well, those were jeans, but these are..." he looks me in the eyes and raises his eyebrows to emphasize. "Jeans." "Whatever, Mulder, let's get outta here," I say, grabbing my jacket and trying to act as if I don't understand, or at least don't care. ********************************************** The restaraunt is called Sum-Yi's, and to my surprise, seems to be pretty nice. Not really formal, I notice, seeing the other diners in casual clothes similar to my own, but nice. The atmosphere is peaceful and friendly, the overhead lights in use, though at first glance the entire building would seem to be lit only be the candles that sit atop each table. Mulder rests his hand on the small of my back as the hostess approaches us, and gently guides me with it as we follow her. His expression is content and peaceful, but I know Mulder too well to believe it. The faint movement of a muscle in his jaw and a silent jerk of the atoms apple tell me that he is just as nervous as I am. He thanks the woman as she shows us our booth, a small one in the corner of the medium-sized dining room, and we sit facing each other on opposite sides of the small table. For a few seconds we sit in a slightly awkward silence, both our eyes darting from one spot to another, then smiling at each other. "So..." I say in a futile attempt to begin conversation. "So," he repeats and smiles at me. "Mulder, I..." He cuts me off. "Yes?" "What is this?" "A restaraunt." Gee, what conversation does this remind me of? "No, I mean..." I think for a moment, trying to find the right words. "I was thinking before you came over. Things have been... changing a little lately." He nods his head as if to say he's been thinking about the same thing. "And I was realizing that we've never really gone out before. I mean, outside of work. So I was wondering what exactly... *this," I motion around the restaraunt, "is." "You mean, is this a date?" "Yeah." I watch as looks upward and closes his eyes, obviously trying to find the answer himself. "Well, Scully. I was actually thinking about that very same thing after I called you, and I came to a conclusion." "And this conclusion would be?" I ask. "Well, the way I see it, it all depends on the intent. Two friends can go out together and it could be just that: two friends going out together. But if those same two friends are going out together because they *want* something more than that, then it's more of what you would call a date." "So you still haven't answered my question: What are *we* doing?" He considers me for a few moments before speaking, and I can tell he's nervous. "I was hoping you could answer that question for me." I look down at my hands, palms up on the glass-covered wooden table. I don't know how to answer. Before coming I had begun to think of it as a date, and that had excited me. True, it had scared me a little, too, but I thought I had been happy about it. Now I'm not so sure. The prospect of a relationship between us, Mulder and I, has definately crossed my mind many a lonely night, but those were just thoughts, fantasies that I had always felt were best kept that way. I'd never stopped to ask myself what I really wanted, because I never thought I had a choice. Now that I am given that choice, now that it's laid out right in front of me, I feel completely unprepared. I know I shouldn't be, that my feelings have begun to surface so many times that I should have thought over more seriously just what I'd do if faced with a decision like this, but I've always thought it easier to push my feelings aside than to get my expectations up for something that could quite possibly never happen. So now I am left, sitting here silent, with Mulder waiting, wanting an answer, wanting to know whether I have the feelings that it now seems evident he does have. If I were to say yes, that I had those feelings too, I am almost certain he would recieve my words with great relief, but I can't make a decision like that so quickly. If I say the words simply to satisfy him and save him from a little disappointment, it wouldn't be fair to him, or myself. Suddenly I am aware of someone approaching the table, I look up to see a short oriental woman with a notepad and pen in her hands. "Are the two of you ready to order?" she asks politely. Mulder gives her a polite half-smile. "No, I think we'll be a few more minutes." She smiles and returns to wherever it is she came from. "Scully?" he asks, his voice giving away a hint of anxiety. I smile. One look into his worried eyes makes the decision for me. "I guess it'd have to be a date, Mulder." He returns my smile. "Well then, whatd'ya say we get on with it?" We begin to look over our menus in easy silence and I feel truly happy with the decision I've made. ********************************************** Dinner passed smoothly. I ordered Teryaki chicken and Mulder mixed and matched a bunch of side orders that he ended up sharing with me. Afterwards, we split the tab, and left to drive back to Mulder's apartment, where we are now. I found Mulder's choice of movies interesting: "Alien: Resurection" (okay, that one I could have predicted) and "Hope Floats." I'm not sure how much more different two movies could be. He popped in "Hope Floats," and now we lie together on his couch watching it. We are both lying on our sides, him behind me, and me leaning into him. His arm falls across my ribs and stomach, his hand gently tracing slow circles on my lower belly. It's odd to be laying here in Mulder's arms. Nice, comforting, perfect, but still odd. I reach down and place my hand on his, not really paying attention to the movie. I grab his wrist gently to pull his hand up to my face, and I kiss his palm and turn to look at him. His eyes focus on mine and he gently brushes a stray hair from my forehead, drawing his hand down my face. I turn my face into his hand and again kiss his palm; once, twice, and a third time, then turn my head to again look into his eyes. Using his hand, which now rests on the line of my jaw, he pulls my face closer to him, and gently kisses me on the lips. I pause, unsure for a moment, but only a moment, and begin to kiss him back more forcefully. We adjust on the couch until I am straddling him, and kiss several more times, but then I realise just what is happening. This is just moving way to fast. Officially, this is still our first date. It was so hard for me to even call it that, and now, suddenly, I find myself straddling him. I know I instigated the whole thing, but this is just too much. I have to leave. I have to get out of here. I need to be alone to figure out what I'm doing, what's going on. I stand up abruptly and go to grab my jacket off the table in the front area of the apartment, then realise that I don't have my car. "Mulder," I begin frantically. "I need you to drive me home. Will you take me home?" "Scully-" His expression almost breaks my heart. I know probably better than anyone that if anything goes wrong, Mulder never hesitates to blame himself first. It makes me feel sick that I'm the cause of the guilt he is feeling right now, but I can't deal with his feelings right now. I just need to go home. "Mulder, please. Just take me home." He swallows, still in shock. And such a perfect evening- ruined because I can't deal with my emotions. "Yeah, Scully." He tries to cover up his shocked, guilt-stricken expression, but I see right through it. "Sure, if that's what you want." He picks up his jacket and fumbles around trying to put it on while at the same time remove the keys from the pocket. Finally, he succeeds and heads for the door, looking anywhere he can except at me. ********************************************** The drive to my apartment is in awkward silence. I feel Mulder glance at me several times, and can easily picture the look of confusion and sadness on his face though I don't dare look at him. Instead, I simply stare out my window at the blurred objects passing by in the window; dark gray buildings and garish street lights that do little to illuminate the gloomy cityscape. The car comes to a halt in front of my apartment building and I quickly open the door, needing to get out of the car before I am faced with him; his questions and expressions that would force me to show more emotion than I like to. To me, too much emotion has always been a sign of vulnerability, and I have always needed to be the strong one. "Thanks for the ride," I say softly, in a voice just above a whisper. I step out of the car and shut the door behind me, making my way to the entrance to my building. Just before going inside, I turn to see Mulder still sitting there, possibly contemplating whether or not to stay, and then he begins to drive off. I open the door and hurry inside. ****************************************** The second that I enter my apartment, the tears begin to flow. I try to keep them back, embarrassed by my display of emotion even in the privacy of an empty room, but my attempts are futile. I wipe at my face with the backs of my hands as I slowly walk into my bedroom and collapse on the bed. Though still somewhat embarrassed, I find myself inadvertantly falling into the depths of self-pity, willing myself to think about what it is that I've done, and cry even more. I think of the softness of Mulder's lips, the feel of his arms around me, his hand on the small of my back, the things I've needed for so long yet never could admit to wanting, and I cry more. My tears are not for having had these things, but for giving them up, for getting scared, for running away from them. I know that Mulder would easily give them to me again, but would I accept them? This may have been my only chance- not because of some tension that may now build between us, but because I'm not sure if I could ever again take the chance I have taken tonight. I got scared, I ran away, and something tells me that no matter what I may want deep down, I may never be able to refrain from running away again the next time things get too intimate. I think these things as I lay on my bed sobbing, and the tears continue to flow. ************************************************** I wake up Saturday morning wearing the same clothes as the evening before, having fallen asleep in them when my crying finally drained me of all energy. I sit up on my bed, never having gotten under the covers last night, and slowly stumble into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror I see that my appearence reflects my emotional state. My mascara is smeared all around my eyes, some black streaks even venturing down my cheeks, tracing the paths my tears took last night. Any other make-up I was wearing has been warn off by my tears and the rubbing of my hands trying desperately to stop them. My hair is tangled and matted on my head. I debate taking a shower, but wonder what the point of that would be. Changing my outside won't better my inside. Slowly, I make my way towards the kitchen and pour myself a tall glass of water. I sip it as I return to the bedroom, sitting on the bed, contemplating what to do now. I can't stay like this all day, but part of me would prefer it. Finally I decide to take a bath. Maybe I can actually read a little. I set my glass down on the little lamp table next to my bed and collect a towel and some clean clothes before going into the bathroom. Inside, I shut the door, set my clothes on the counter, and hang the towel on the rack, then turn the water on and begin to undress. Just as I am lifting my sweater up over my head, I hear the phone ring in the other room. I put the shirt back on and go to answer it. "Scully," I answer, picking up the portable and turning it on. "Hey Scully, it's me." My heart stops as the tears begin to surface again, only momentarily. I don't know if I can handle talking to him right now. "Scully? You there?" "Yeah, Mulder," I respond meekly. "I was just... I mean... Are you okay?" "Fine." The answer is automatic, like a recording I keep locked away for use whenever I am asked that question. "I mean... I'm really sorry..." I can tell he is struggling to find words, and knowing that I have done this to Mulder makes me even more angry at myself. How could I be so selfish? This whole time I've been crying and wallowing in self-pity. I never even thought about what I was doing to Mulder. "No, Mulder. Don't apologize. I..." What to say? "I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't... I shouldn't have..." "Look, Scully, I understand. Things were just moving way to fast last night. It's just that everything was going so well, I didn't even think that I might be overstepping boundaries or... I just should have thought about your feelings more." "No, Mulder. I'm the one who should have thought more about your feelings. I'm sorry." "What happened last night wasn't anyone's fault, Scully. I just hope that one bad experience won't turn you off to the whole idea." I don't know what to say. This is exactly the question I've been dreading ever since I got home last night. "Not that I thought last night was an entirely bad experience," he adds. "I didn't either," I reply truthfully. "Scully, can I tell you something?" "What is it?" I ask, hoping for a change of subject so that I won't be forced to give an answer to his previous question. "I... I don't want to scare you or anything." I almost laugh despite my mood. "I don't think anything you say could possibly scare me, Mulder." "Are you sure?" I can tell he's nervous about whatever it is he has to tell me. "Mulder, spit it out." "Okay," he begins with a sigh. "Here goes... Scully?" "Yes?" "I... I..." "Mulder?" He swallows. "I lo-" Suddenly, I hear water splashing on tile. "Mulder? Hold that thought!" I carry the phone with me as I rush into the bathroom to turn off the running water in the bathtub. "Mulder?" I ask, putting the phone back to my ear. "I'm gonna have to call you back. My tub just overflowed." I hang up without saying goodbye and rush to get some towels to clean up the water that's flooded the bathroom floor. ******************************************** After drying up the water in the bathroom, I rethink the bath idea and decide to just take a quick shower. I begin to undress in the bathroom once again, this time without interuption, and step into the shower, testing the water first for the correct temperature. Standing here naked, the warm water pouring over my body, I can't help but think of Mulder. Of what it felt like to be kissing him, my body pressed against his. It felt so good, yet somehow incomplete. At that moment I wanted to be with him forever. The consequences didn't matter. Nothing else mattered but him and me. Together. And then reality set in. That is really what it was like. Like the kissing and the holding and the touching were all part of a fantasy, and I woke up only to find that it was true. The trouble is, however pleasureable a fantasy may be, that's all it is, a fantasy, and to find one in reality can be somewhat frightening, realizing that it *is* real, that it can't be as perfect as it is in your head. Real things have real consequences and real problems. Perhaps that's what I'm scared of. I'm scared that it won't be perfect. Then an even more disturbing realization hits me: maybe I'm scared of getting close to a real person. That's another benefit of fantasies: no one gets hurt, there's no real intimacy. There's not even a real other person to be intimate with. Intimacy is another one of those feelings that makes me feel vulnerable. It's too easy to be hurt when you're that close to anyone. Suddenly I hear the phone ring. I know I could just let the machine pick up, but I feel I should answer it. I turn off the water and quickly get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around me as I leave the bathroom to pick up the portable phone once more. "Scully." "Hey, Scully." "Mulder." I smile. Despite my worrying, I am happy to hear his voice. "I-uh, I just wanted to call and see if you got your bathroom cleaned up." I smile again. Yeah, I'm sure he was very worried about my bathroom. "Mulder, can I ask you something?" "Shoot." I hesitate for a moment. "What was it that you wanted to tell me earlier?" There is a pause and I can hear him breathing on the other end. "Oh, um, nothing really important." "What?" "Well..." "Mulder?" "I-um, I just wanted to tell you that..." He takes a deep breath. "I love you." I stop dead in my tracks. I wasn't expecting that. I probably should have now that I think about it but I've been so absorbed in thought that I never even considered what he might have been trying to tell me. "Scully?" "Yeah?" "Are... Are you okay?" "Fine." I feel like a broken record. "Well?" "Well what?" Oh shit. I don't know what to say. I haven't even gotten far enough to think about whether I loved Mulder. I feel horrible. I can't think of a worse thing to do when someone says "I love you" than what I'm doing right now. There is a long pause on the other end. "Well what?" he repeats. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I didn't mean..." "No, uh, that's okay." He sounds so hurt. "I, um, I've got some things to do, so I'll talk to you later I guess." With that he hangs up. What have I done? I call him back, but he doesn't answer. The machine picks up. "Mulder? Mulder, please pick up the phone. I know you're there. Mulder? I didn't mean it. I..." What more can I say to make him pick up the damn phone? "I love you, too, Mulder." He picks up the reciever. "Do you mean that, Scully? Because I don't want your pity if you're just trying to humor me." His mistrust makes the tears well up in my eyes yet again. Why do I have to be so emotional lately? "Yes, Mulder. I swear. I love you, I just... Everything's happening all at once. I wasn't able until yesterday to even fully admit to myself that I had feelings for you. I'm trying, Mulder, I really am. It's just hard." My eyes are finally filled to the brim and begin to overflow silently but I try not to give it away in my voice. "I just... I'm not very good at these things." "Ah, Scully." His voice is sympathetic yet not pitying, and I am grateful for that. "Niether am I. We're perfect for each other." I smile and I swear he can see me. **** "I don't know how sound that reasoning is, but I'm willing to accept it." His voice becomes very serious. "Are you?" I let out a soft sigh. How many times in the past few days have I been put on the spot with simple questions almost identical to this one? "I think so, Mulder. I just... need some time. I need to take this whole thing a little slower. Can you understand that?" I'm honestly not sure if he can. "Of course I can, Scully. Whatd'ya say we go out to dinner tonight, try it again. This time nothing afterwards. It'll be strictly dinner. You can even meet me there if you want." The corners of my mouth curve upward slightly. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Mulder." Then I remember my other arrangements. "Oh, Mulder, on second thought, I'm sorry, I can't. I just remembered that I made plans for dinner tonight with my mother." "Hey, that's okay, we'll do it some other time. Say hello for me." An idea comes to mind, but I'm not sure if I want to propose it. I consider it for a moment, then cautiously voice my thoughts. "You could always join us," I offer in an attempt to sound casual. "Your mother wouldn't mind?" "No, I'm sure she'd love to see you." "Okay then. When and where?" "I'll pick you up around five, it's a ways away." "Alrighty then. See you at five, Scully." I hang up almost regreting having invited him. Nothing personal towards Mulder, what I'm worried about is my mother's reaction. She won't be upset in the least that Mulder's coming, but that's what I'm worried about. All this time I've been telling her that we're just partners when she's made her little comments and smiles at my mention of him, and now this almost feels like an invitation for a smug little "I told you so." I don't know why that bothers me so much, it's just the way my relationship has always been with my mother. We're pretty close when it comes to anything else, I've just never felt comfortable talking to her about that sort of thing. The phone rings while I still hold it in my hand. I jump slightly at the abrupt ringing, then quickly press the "talk" button to silence it. "Scully," I speak into the reciever, a little on edge. "Hi sweety." "Hi mom." I hope she can't hear the slight disapointment in my voice. "Is something wrong, Dana?" "No, mom, I'm fine." And the recording plays once more. "Are we still on for tonight?" "Yeah," I pause for a moment, "Mom, about tonight, I um..." "Did something come up?" "No, no, it's not that, I just... invited someone to join us. I hope that's all right." "Well of course it is, sweety. Who is it?" I pause. I really don't want to confront this right now. I was dreading enough the moment we would walk into the restaraunt, and now I have to talk to her about it on the phone. Yet somehow, as strange as it may seem, as much as I dread talking to her about it, I also feel that I need to. Even at this age, I still seek her approval. As a child I sought the approval of my father, but now that he's gone, I seem to turn to my mother more and more for help with decisions. Perhaps that's why I invited Mulder to come tonight. "It's, um, Mulder," I choke out. "Oh really?" There's that tone again. The one that, no matter what words it comes with, seems to be saying, "Isn't that that boy you like?" She continues in the same voice. "Is it something with work? Do the two of you need to discuss something?" "No, not really." "Oh. Well then, are you two, uh...?" I pause. How do I explain it to her when I'm not really sure myself? I decide to play innocent-- for the moment. "Are we what?" "You know, *involved.*" "I really don't know, mom." "Well what happened?" I think for a moment. "Well, I'm not really sure what happened. We, um, we kissed. Twice. And I ate dinner at his apartment the other night. And we went out last night." I pause for a moment. "Things are... things are a little strange right now." "Oh Dana, I'm so happy for you!" I know it may seem strange since I am, afterall, seeking approval, but this is the exact reaction that I had been afraid of. I don't like it when my mother gets this excited about me going out with someone. It may seem odd, but it's embarrassing even when no one else is around. I am silent and she seems to sense an uneasiness. "How do you feel about it?" "I don't know. I just feel kind of caught off guard." I feel the tears that have been resurfacing all morning begin to come once again. I continue through a them, trying but not succeeding not to let them be heard in my voice. "I mean, I know what I want but at the same time I feel like everything I do has some tremendous impact on my life. And I tell myself that it's just a relationship with one person, that I shouldn't take it so seriously, but I don't... I don't know what to do, mom. I don't know what to feel or what to say, I just... I just feel so unprepared for this." She is silent for a moment, but when she speaks, her voice is strong and comforting. Her speech is slow. "Dana, we're not always prepared for what life throws our way. Sometimes you just have to take things as they come. Don't over-analyze them. Just look inside yourself and tell me what you feel in your heart." I pause once more, trying to take in her words. "I... I love him, mom. I know I do, but... it's just really hard..." "Change is hard, sweety. Loving someone is hard. Sometimes you don't know where you stand or what tomorrow will bring. But that's part of the beauty of it." She pauses momentarily. "I know it's difficult for you to take things on blind faith. I know that getting close to people makes you feel vulnerable and that you hate to feel vulnerable. You get a lot of that from your father. But I'm telling you, sometimes vulnerability isn't such a bad thing. While it may seem to make you weaker on one hand, when you're vulnerable to one person, it helps you to be a lot stronger when facing the rest of the world." No longer can I keep the tears at bay, and soon I begin to sob as I hold the phone to my ear. I know what she's saying, and I take it in, but my tears are for fear that I will be unable to follow her advice. "But what if I can't do it, mom? What if I get scared and run away? I... We were at his apartment last night, and things started to get a little intimate, and I, I got scared. I couldn't deal with it. What if I can't get over that?" Her voice is calm and soothing. "Don't worry, Dana. You will. I promise." I let myself cry into the phone a little longer, and then decide I should get ready to go. I'm still wearing nothing but a towel after getting out of the shower to answer the phone. "I love you, mom. I'll see you tonight I guess." "Love you to, sweety. See you tonight." With that, I hang up the phone and set it back down on the coffee table, then head for my bedroom to change into some clothes. This is shaping up to be an interesting day. *************************************************** After I pick up Mulder from his apartment a little after 5, we arrive at the restaraunt (a nice Italian one called Rizzario's, one of my mother's favorites) around 6:30, just in time for the reservations. As Mulder and I walk through the glass doors, I look over him, and myself self-conciously. He is wearing a blue dress shirt, a multicolored tie, and tan slacks and looks incredibly sexy. My dress is black and ends just above my knees, the small black sweater I wear over it providing the only warmth for my arms, the dress having no sleeves. He places his hand on the small of my back out of habit as we enter. My mother is already seated in a small booth near the front of the restaraunt and we spot her quickly and walk in her direction. "Hi sweety! You look wonderful!" She smiles warmly as she stands to hug me, then turns to give Mulder a hug as well. "Hello Fox. You're looking very handsome tonight." She remains standing, looking the two of us over with a little smile for a few moments. Realising what she's doing, she let's out a little laugh and smiles even more brightly, motioning towards the booth. "By all means, sit down!" I sit on the little bench first and scoot over to make room for Mulder. Mom sits on the other side of the table. "So how have you been, Fox? I haven't seen you in over a year." Mulder smiles comfortably. Sometimes it seems to me that he gets along with my mother better than I do, despite the fact that he's only met her 3 or 4 times. "Great," he replies. He looks at me and smiles. "Thanks to your daughter, here." I give him a little smile, but raise an eyebrow as if to say, "That was sweet, but a little too cutesy for me, 'sweety.'" He simply chuckles at my reaction. "It's so good to see both of you happy and healthy." She continues, turning to Mulder. "I think the only times we've met have been when Dana's been in the hospital." "Yeah," Mulder gives a little ironic smile. "Not exactly the best circumstances, huh?" She looks distant for a moment, then smiles once more. "But I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot more of you in the future," she says, looking at both of us. Mulder puts his arm around me and nods, looking over at me. Though I'm a little uncomfortable with him being this open in front of my mom, I smile anyway. Dinner goes well over all, with a few more little moments that I would regard as slightly embarrassing, but I'm happy to be with the two people I care most about in the world. And happy to finally be able to admit that. ********************************************* After dinner, Mulder and I both hug my mother goodbye and get in my car. "I think that went rather well, don't you?" Mulder asks as I start the car and begin to drive out of the parking lot. I glance over at him. He's smiling and loosening his tie. "Yeah." I can't help but smile looking at him. "I think it went really well." He reaches over and gives my shoulder a little rub as I pull out onto the street. "I really do love you, you know." I don't know what compelled him to say it, but the words alone send a feeling through my entire body that I was never sure I'd feel. The type of feeling you can imagine when you watch movies or read love stories, but it's nothing compared to the real thing. "I love you, too." I say, my voice a little shaky from the unfamiliartiy of the words. "Do you?" I glance at him, concerned with his question. "What do you mean?" "I don't know, Scully. I just don't feel like I... never mind." I can see him staring out the window out of the corner of my eye. "What? What were you gonna say?" "It's stupid." "Mulder-" I let him hear the irritation in my voice. "I just feel like I don't deserve you." He blurts out. "I mean, seeing your mother tonight, I just..." He pauses to find the words. "She seemed happy, but when she talked about you being in the hospital... I could tell it still hurt her. And I can't help but feel that I'm the cause of that, Scully." I am silent. I don't know what to say. I knew at the time that Mulder felt guilty for my abduction, the cancer, but I hadn't realized how much he still held on to that. "Mulder, I don't blame you for that." "I blame myself." He is so quick to say it that he nearly cuts me off. "Mulder," I begin, "you had no control over anything that happened to me." I pause. I need to change my strategy. No one can convince Mulder to change his mind once he's decided he's at fault. "Besides, it's over now. I'm safe. There's no reason to dwell on the past." He is silent for several moments. "But you can't-" He cuts himself off, obviously thinking better of it. "What? I ask, already knowing what he was going to say, but wanting to hear from him anyway. "What?" I ask again, having recieved no answer. "You can't have children," he finally finishes. "You can't have children because of me. The truth of that statement combined with Mulder's guilt over it is poison to my soul, but rather than feeling tears well up in my eyes as I would have expected, I am suddenly overcome by a surge of anger. "How can you be so selfish?" I ask. "You know, Mulder, everything has to be about you, doesn't it?" He is silent. "By blaming yourself for everything, you make everyone else's problems your own, so the whole world revolves around you." There is a brief silence before he speaks. "Is that what you think of me?" he asks. I hear the pain in his voice. I don't answer. I immediately feel horrible for saying what I did, but at the same time I still feel it's true and don't want to take it back. "No, Mulder. I... I love you. I just... I think that sometimes you can be extremely self-centered. It's not your fault. It's just the way you are. I'm not mad at you." I can tell that Mulder's angry now. "Oh, so I'm extremely self-centered, but you're not mad at me because it's 'just the way I am?!' Gee, Scully, you really know how to boost a guy's self-esteem." "Just forget about it." "No. We need to get this out in the open. Look Scully, I love you. I want this to work. And it can't work if we keep on hiding our feelings like this." He pauses. "I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I can't imagine my life without you. So if you have something that's bothering you, you'd better go ahead and say it because you're gonna have to put up with me for a good long while." I try to hide it, but I can't help smiling. "I love you, Mulder." The words flow naturally this time. I think I could get used to saying that. ****************************************************** I pull up to Mulder's apartment about an hour later. As we sit there in the car, I can't help but think how sexy he looks. His tie is completely off by this time, and his sleeves have been unbuttoned and rolled up to the elbows. He seems unsure as to what he should do, not really wanting to part just yet. "I had a really good time tonight," he says after a little while. "I hope you had a good time too." He smiles. "I wouldn't want to come off as being self-centered." I give him an "oh, you're just so funny" smile which quickly turns into a real one. After a little hesitation, he leans over and gives me a little peck on the lips, then opens the car door to get out. "Mulder?" I call. "Yeah?" he asks, turning back towards me. "Would you mind if I came up?" He pauses, looking me over. "You're sure you want to?" I nod. "Yeah. Sure." **************************************************** I follow Mulder down the hallway as we approach his apartment. He takes his keys out of his pocket and begins to jiggle his apartment key in the hole. I'm not in the mood to wait. I reach my hand out and gently pull his away from the keys which are left hanging in the door. He turns towards me, and I reach my hand up around the back of his neck to pull his lips down to mine. As we kiss, gently at first, then more passionately, almost violently, I wrap my arms around him tightly and he lifts me up against the wall. My legs are wrapped around him while he holds me up by my thighs. I forget for the moment that we are in a public hallway and that I'm wearing a skirt which is now scrunched up all the way to my waist. Soon, I even forget what my mouth is doing as Mulder begins to thrust into me violently through his pants. I want to scream. I want to let the world hear what I'm feeling at this moment. Mulder's mouth leaves mine and moves to my ear. "Scully?" he whispers. "Mmm hmm?" "Whatd'ya say we move our little party inside?" I nod silently as he sets me down gently and returns to jiggling his key chain, a little more persistantly this time. Finally, the damn thing turns and the door unlocks and Mulder opens the door, almost clumsily in his hurry. I enter the apartment as Mulder removes his keys from the door, shuts it, and locks it. I take my shoes and sweater off quickly while he's busy, and even start on the nylons before he turns around. As he comes over to where I am sitting on the couch, I finish pulling off my nylons. He steps on the heels of his shoes one at a time to remove them, then quickly kneels down on the couch and begins to kiss me. I fall back into the couch and begin to unbutton his shirt as he holds himself up over me. Soon the shirt is gone and now it's my turn. Mulder tries tugging on my dress, but I stop him before he rips it. I break the kiss and stand up, unzipping the dress carefully and letting it fall to the floor. Mulder stares up at me in awe for a moment, then stands quickly and unbuttons his pants, pulling them off. He stands before me wearing only a pair of boxers and, I notice with a little amusement, a pair of socks. "Sit down," I tell him. He does as I go down on my knees. "Scully," he says suggestively. I look up and roll my eyes at him as I pick up his foot and remove the first sock and then the other. I then stand back up and slowly sit on his lap, one knee on either side of him. I begin to kiss him as his hands come up to unclasp my bra. I shrug out of my bra as he plays with my breasts, kneeding then at different speeds and gently teasing my nipples. I break the kiss and let out several small sighs, looking up towards the cieling. I place my hands on his and then run them up along his arms and then his chest. Then my hand slips down further, causing him to let go of my breasts. I slip my hand inside his boxers, feeling his erection pulse against my hand as I squeeze gently. Now it's his turn to sigh. I study his face as his mouth opens and his eyes flutter shut. I go down on my knees once more, letting my hand leave him. As I come down between his knees, I pull on his shorts until they are at his ankles, then take then and toss them aside. I move closer to him and am about to take him in my mouth when Mulder stops me. "Hey, Scully, why don't we let that wait, I'm not sure how much longer I'm gonna be able to hold on here." I grin at him and stand up, then remove my underwear and begin to get back on his lap. "No, wait," he says. "Let me do something for you." He motions for me to lay down and kneels over me when I do, then lets himself fall beside me on the couch. As I watch, he traces little circles on my lower belly, letting them go down farther and farther until he reaches the bundle of nerves between my legs. I am wet already with anticipation and his fingers slide inside me easily. The touch sends me soaring to hieghts I was unprepared for and I let out a moan as I thrust against his hand. He plunges the two fingers into me once more, removing them from me almost completely and then sliding in once more, over and over again. I am no longer capable of coherent thought, all I can do is feel, and I voice the only words that my lips are able to form as my eyes shut tightly. "More.... more... oh God!... don't stop... Oh Mulder..." Suddenly I am aware of motion and my eyes open to a rush of swirling color. It takes me almost a full minute to realise that I've fallen off the couch. I look up to see Mulder staring down at me, trying desperately to hold back his laughter. I smile and begin to laugh and he takes this as permission to release his own chuckles. But the laughter doesn't last for long. "Mulder, come here," I order, motioning with my index finger. "Gladly." He eases himself off of the couch but loses his balance and falls on top of me, hitting the coffee table and knocking it over in the process. We both start to laugh again until he shifts slightly and I can feel him, hard and hot against my inner thigh. He lifts himself up over me and lets his erection slightly touch me, making me want to scream in anticipation. He eases himself inside me slowly, and I thrust upward impatiently. He begins to thrust inside me as well and we soon find a steady pace. I again find myself lost in the feeling. I moan his name and God's, and soon I begin to plead as well. "Faster.... Mulder.... Oh God... faster..." He begins to speed up and before I know it I can't take it anymore. My muscles tense up around him and become tight. I open my eyes and look at him and begin to thrust more forcefully, wanting to make him come. Soon, I feel him release inside of me and his entire body becomes limp with exhaustion. He is heavy on top of me, but I don't mind the wieght. His head has fallen to the side beside mine. I turn to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear. "I love you, Mulder." I think I am getting used to saying that. THE END Feedback or else! Feedback to conspiracy13@hotmail.com Author's notes: Remember, this last part is my first attempt at smut, so be kind! ;)