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This author's e-mail address has changed to: tamarie@interchange.ubc.ca 
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From: Tara Avery <tavery@ntonline.com>
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1999 20:05:26 -0800
Subject: Crossing the Line (1/1) Sleepless II Tara Avery

Title: Crossing the Line (1/1) Sleepless II
Author: Tara Avery
Email: tamarie@interchange.ubc.ca
Rating: PG--a few swear words
Category: SARH
Spoilers: Tooms, Small Potatoes, FTF, Triangle, all the way through season
6, I guess. (I'll try to mention the specifics)
Keywords: Mulder/Scully relationship, UST, a little R, Scully POV
Summary: Take one sequel to "Sleepless", add a little MulderKindness, a
little ScullyAngst, some hazelnut coffee, some Chinese and Ice Cream, stir
until well-mixed and you should come up with something like this story. :D
Archive: Please do.  If you're feeling particularly generous you could tell
me, so I could claim the pleasure of visiting rights.  Oh, and please keep
all headers as they are!
Disclaimer: All things "X", and all the characters therein belong not to me,
but to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox and all other enterprises with
some hand in the X-Files.  However, these particular words do belong to me.

This story happens some time in the sixth season, although the timeline, I
think, is not particularly important.  The only important notes are that a)
Kersh is still the agents' AD, and b) Mulder and Scully no longer have the
X-Files. It is a sequel to "Sleepless" and it would work best as a companion
piece to that story, however, the story will most likely stand on its own.
**************************

Crossing the Line



The alarm is shrill, and I barely resist the urge to slam the snooze button
and completely ignore the day of work ahead.  I contemplate the benefits of
calling in sick and in doing so deliberately avoiding AD Kersh, his
pointless background checks and the dead end cases he saves for the FBI's
Least Wanted.

I have never wanted anything as badly as I now want to be able to get up,
get dressed, and march down to the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover building
to work on X-Files.  But Mulder and I don't have the X-Files anymore--at
least not in any legal sense of the word--and I have no secluded basement
office to look forward to.

Then I recall my five o'clock phone call:  the reason why I feel as though I
haven't slept enough and why my eyes are still sore with the remembrance of
tears.

Despite the background checks, the lack of excitement stemming from endless
cases on domestic terrorism, the lack of sleep, I push the heavy blankets
back to meet the day and I find myself smiling.

* * *

"Hey," Mulder says by way of greeting when I slide into my desk ten minutes
late.

I smile at him and hand over a cardboard mug filled with coffee.  Hazelnut.
His favourite.

"What is that I smell?  If there's hazelnut coffee in here it could be love,
Scully."

"And if it's ice tea?"

"Win-win situation," Mulder offers me a little smile and a wink as he
savours his first sip.

"AD Kersh hasn't been by, has he?" I say instead of thinking about Mulder's
innocent flirtation.

"I told him you were in the bathroom."

"What did he have to say about that?"

"'Didn't she just get here?'"

"And you replied...?"

"'You know women and their lipstick.'"

"You *didn't*!"

He smiled again.  "Men will always fall for something if there's lipstick
involved.  They don't know anything about it.  Trust me, I'm a psychologist
with expertise in the paranormal.  I know all about this stuff."

I raise my eyebrow haughtily, as though warning him that we women will not
be so circumspectly programmed, categorized or easily referenced.
Especially by something as simple as lipstick application.  "Well... thank
you, I *think*."

"But really, thanks for the coffee, Scully."

"My pleasure, Mulder."  I smile impishly, and I know Mulder knows what I'm
thinking.  The sound of his name--even his last name--is somehow more...
intimate than it was before last night.  'Fox' still sounds alien to me--six
years of habit will be nearly impossible to break.  "So you'll bring the ice
cream?"

"There was a catch all along, hmm?"

I shake my head a little, still smiling, and tackle the pile of meaningless
papers on my desk.  It's hard to feel anything about these cases--cases any
well-equipped PD could deal with.  Mulder feels the same way, only more
so--the X-Files were his children, cared for and tucked away with a
gentleness I watched with equal parts amusement and tenderness.

I feel more lost now, working nine to five Monday to Friday, than I ever did
upon finding myself trapped in cornfields in the middle of nowhere at
midnight, or chasing hunches of hunches and ending up with empty hands and
destroyed evidence.

If you can't destroy a couple of meddlesome agents outright, just trap them
and beat them into submission.  If you can't kill Mulder because of his
following, just turn him into someone no one will ever care to follow.  Make
him a lackey.  Keep him occupied with background checks and surveillance
duty--jobs any rookie FBI agent fresh out of the Academy could handle with
ease.

The saying is supposed to be "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em", right?  Only
*They* are so much more clever...

If you can't beat 'em, just make 'em anonymous.  *Then* when no one cares
about them... *then* you can kill 'em.

That's why I can't be too angry when Mulder runs off to chase his fragments
of the paranormal... his illegal X-Files keep him one step farther from
anonymity.

"Call it a hunch but something tells me you're not thinking about TV and ice
cream."

I look up and blink.  "Pardon?"

"You've been staring at that piece of paper for fifteen minutes, Scully.
And it's blank.  What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing important."

"Is that a variation of 'I'm fine, Mulder'?"

My lips quirk into a tiny half-smile.  "Something like that."

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"*Mulder*!  What about Kersh?"

"What about him?  I can bullshit with finesse when I have to.  I'll make
something up.  I don't think you should be here today--you're not looking
great, Scully.  And I know you didn't sleep well."

"What was that you said about bullshit with finesse?"

Mulder offers his lopsided grin and says, "I never made any claims to tact,
did I?  I'll be back in a minute."

He returns nearly a half hour later, and before he opens his mouth I know he
has freed us for the day.  The triumph in his eyes is practically glowing.

"You'd better calm that arrogance, Mulder, or Kersh will have us on a manure
hunting trip before we make it to the elevator."

"Nah, I told him you needed to go to the doctor.  Something about headaches
and not wanting to take any chances with a health that has been a little
iffy in past years.  And I told him you would really prefer if I went with
you, for support."

"Creative, Mulder," I say dryly, but gather my things nonetheless.

His fingers brush lightly over my forehead and he frowns.  "I'm not too sure
it was even a lie, Scully.  I'm taking you home to sleep, and I'll see you
later, okay?"

I nod and hope fervently that he doesn't reneg on last night's promise.

* * *

I don't realize I've fallen asleep until I wake up sprawled on my couch with
a wretched crick in my neck.  Someone's knocking on the door... it must be
Mulder already.

"Scully?  You in there?"

"Mmmhmmm," I groan, but not loudly enough for him to hear.  The sound of a
key in the lock rouses me fully.

"Scully?"

"Hi, Mulder."  I run one hand through what must be a terrifying case of
'I-just-woke-up' hair, and smile.

He holds up a large brown paper bag.  "I brought dinner to you.  I thought
you must be knocked right out when you didn't answer the phone."

"I slept through the phone?"  For some reason I find this highly amusing and
I laugh out loud.  I stand up and reach for the bag of Chinese take-out, but
Mulder stops me.

"How about you take these instead?"

He proffers a small bouquet wrapped in pretty paper.  Closer inspection
reveals half a dozen roses--three red and three yellow.

"Mulder..."

"They were pretty.  The stand was right next to the Chinese place.  I
couldn't resist.  Hey, Scully, it's nothing."

I look up from the flowers and smile at him.  He has a slightly trapped look
in his eyes, as though I've caught him doing something he didn't want me to
see.

"Yellow means friendship," he offers quietly.

"And red?"

Mulder shrugs, a bit uncomfortably, and moves past me to find plates and
cutlery in the kitchen.  I follow him, placing the flowers in a vase as he
loads a couple of plates with Chinese food offerings.

"Are you feeling better, Dana?"  He says, smiling a little at the unfamiliar
name as he places the plates next to each other on the table.  I replace the
napkin holder with the vase of flowers.

"I wasn't feeling bad--"

Mulder frowns.

"Yes, I'm feeling better."

"You obviously had a good sleep."

I let out a laugh and Mulder cocks his head.  "You don't laugh nearly
enough, Scully."

The comment stops my laughter short.  "Dana does."

Mulder remains silent, and I can't think of anything to say to break the
uncomfortable pall that has dropped over us.  Instead, I take a bite of the
fried rice and lick my lips.  "This is good."

"Mmmhmm," he says around an eggroll.  "You know, I don't think I've ever
told you what a nice apartment you have.  It's... so bright compared to
mine."

"Thanks."

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Since when have you ever asked?"  I don't mean it to sound snappish, but
Mulder gives me something akin to a hurt puppy look and I sigh.  "Sure."

"What was it about Eddie?"

The turn of the question startles me, and my fork full of chow mein hovers
half way between the plate and my mouth.  I lower the fork slowly, look
Mulder square in the eyes, and say in complete deadpan, "Wine."

"What?!"  I can see I've startled him as much as he did me.  He recognizes
the joke a half second later and smiles sheepishly.  "But I brought ice
cream."

"Well, then you're already one step ahead of Mr. Van Blundht."

"I--sometimes I wonder, you know.  That was me after all..."

"He just crossed a line you haven't."

He looks at me, eyes serious, biting his lower lip thoughtfully.  "Haven't
I?"

"I-"

"In the hallway.  In that hospital room.  The countless times I've cried
because I failed you... because I thought I'd lost you..."

"Mul-"

"I wasn't kidding around or trying to manipulate you when I told you that
you make me whole, Scully."

"Mulder, I-"

"You are the most important thing in my life, Scully.  It took a lot to
prove that to myself, but everything we've been through--even losing the
X-Files--has made me realize that... that I... that..."

I watch his face crumple before my eyes, and he covers his eyes with one
hand.  "You *are* my home, Scully.  Dana.  I..."

"Fox?"

He glances up at the soft word, dropping his hand.  There are unmistakable
tears in his eyes.

"I know how you feel."

"This was supposed to be a relaxing evening, Scully.  I'm sorry."

I grasp one of his hands in my own.  He is cold, and trembling slightly.
"It is.  Let's break out the ice cream.  You'd better have brought
chocolate."

"Double chocolate fudge."

"Good call.  Let's move to the couch.  I'll get the ice cream and some
spoons."

Mulder smiles and clears our dishes.  "There's something right about this,
isn't there, Scully?"

I laugh gently--a cleansing laugh, a freedom laugh.  "Yes, Mulder."

After we've sat mindlessly through one sitcom, and half the carton of ice
cream between us, Mulder murmurs, "The red ones are for love."

"I know."

"But see how beautiful they look together?"

I laugh again, and swallow a spoonful of double chocolate fudge.  "Very
beautiful, Mulder."

He puts his arm around me and I smile as the commercials end and the next
show begins.  I have the warm feeling that we're not going anywhere for a
while.

********************

The end! :)  Always remember that feedback truly is met with a dance of joy.
tamarie@interchange.ubc.ca