From aslinger@etec.org Wed May 21 16:18:57 1997
Subject: fanfic resubmission
From: aslinger@etec.org (amy slingerland)
--------
hi natalie -

here's my resubmission of "touche' 2" for gossamer.

rating: PG13
spoilers: post-"wetwired"
classification: SRA
summary: Scully and Mulder come to some realizations, and decisions must be
made. Contains angst, UST, and romantic possibilities.

thanks.

slink

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Touche' Encore: Must be Fate (2/3) - PG13

May 31, 1996

(c) slink

Scully and Mulder come to some realizations, and decisions must be made.
Contains angst, UST, and romantic possibilities.

The X-Files, Dana Scully, and Fox Mulder are the creation and intellectual
property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and Fox Broadcasting,
and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is
intended. This work is not to be forwarded or distributed to any newsgroup,
FTP, or WWW site without the permission of the author.

No X-File or violence. Contains a handful of 4-letter words and double
entendres. In XF time, these events happen a week after "Wetwired."

I always like to hear feedback; you can write to me at aslinger@etec.org.
Visit my website at http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Studios/2527.

x x x x x x x x x x

Wired Video
May 17, 1996
8:43 pm


As Dana Scully took her two selected videotapes to the checkout counter,
Fox Mulder stood watching dumbly.

<She winked at me.>
<She winked at me?>
<She winked at me!>

Inanely, Mulder's stunned mind repeated this observation over and over.

<Yeah, she winked at you like 10 minutes ago! Wake up, Mulder-man, she's
walking away! Why are you just standing here? Go after her!>

<God, no. What the hell would I say?>

<Ask her if she wants some company, you idiot!>

<I can't offer to watch those with her. That would be way too embarrassing.
She'd just refuse, anyway.>

<Oh, would she? What was that wink? And that mysterious little smile?>

<Down, boy. Time to pick up our toys and go home.>

Scully could feel Mulder's eyes on her, but she did not look back as she
exited Wired Video. A half-disappointed, half-relieved Dana got in her car
and pulled out of the parking lot.

<What the hell possessed me to do that?>

<Jeez, Dana, I guess you gave him a dose of his own medicine. Looks like he
can dish it out, but he can't take it.>

<You're playing a dangerous game, Scully. You don't really want to
encourage him.>

<Of course you do. Admit it already. You want him.>

<OK. I admit it. I was really hoping to get a rise out of him back there.
Oh, God. Have I made a fool of myself? No. He's always flirting with me,
standing close, touching my elbow or shoulder. It's friendly. Harmless. It
doesn't mean anything.>

<You're not convincing me, Dana Katherine. And you can't tell me his video
choices had no significance. Did you see the expression on his face? He had
that adorable little-boy-caught-with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar look. And I
*know* what that does to you...>

The angel and the devil argued back and forth all the way home.

x x x x x

#42

Mulder's shadow moved through the spartan apartment. <Why on Earth did she
wink at me?>

<Maybe it's because she wants you.>

He laughed derisively to himself. <Yeah, right. No way. Couldn't be. I
winked at her once, and I didn't mean anything by it...>

<Oh, didn't you?> He deposited the plastic bag of tapes on the coffee table.

Part of him wanted to deny everything. <C'mon, she only winked because she
saw what I was renting.> He toed off his wingtips and petulantly kicked
them in the direction of the closet.

<Yeah, and you saw what she was renting. And she looked pretty embarrassed
at being caught with those kinds of movies. Especially when that actor
looks exactly like y...>

<No!> He yanked off his jacket and tie and slung them in a heap in a corner
of the bedroom. <It had to just be a coincidence. Her friends probably told
her about those movies. Women like that artsy, romantic, softcore stuff.>

He slumped onto the unmade bed. <Gimme a break, loverboy, tell the
truth!... You want to believe in romance.> With an audible sigh, he flopped
backwards.

<Truth> he thought with a wry twist of his lips. <The truth is that there
is only one woman on this planet> -- <or any other> interjected a perverse
mental voice -- <that I want to romance, and she's damn near untouchable.>
Restless, he stripped off his wilted dress clothes and padded to the
kitchenette in t-shirt and boxers.

<Not that you don't *want* to touch her, though, right, Fox-boy?> He
grudgingly allowed himself to dwell on that image as he pulled leftover
Chinese out of the fridge.

<Get a grip, Spooky, what would a femme fatale like her want with you?
Besides, you work with the woman. You can't have your cake and eat it,
too.>

<Oh, nice turn of phrase, Freud.> Angry with himself, he plunked the white
carton down on the counter.

Frohike's immortal praises echoed in his mind: "She's hot." "She's tasty."

He stalked to the living room and punched on the radio in a futile attempt
to drown out the voices in his head. No such luck. The station was playing
Melissa Etheridge's "I Wanna Come Over." He could tell he would get no
peace until he faced facts.

He scolded himself. <She threw down the gauntlet in the video store, and
you left it lying there. You may have just screwed up your one chance. Now
what are you going to do about it?>

"Shit. I don't know." He realized that he had breathed the thought out loud.

x x x x x

#5

By the time Dana locked her front door, the devil had the upper hand in her
internal argument. The physical distance from the office had brightened her
mood considerably, and she looked forward to an evening of decadent
entertainment.

She dropped her videos, briefcase, and holster into the armchair. As she
progressed through the rooms she removed restrictive articles of clothing
which she carelessly draped over her dressing table chair. She sighed with
relaxation and rolled her shoulders, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.


In the bathroom, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and washed her
face. She studied her reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. The
juvenile hairstyle and her fresh, lightly freckled complexion gave her a
gamine appearance, which surprised her. Sometimes, when she allowed herself
to dwell on them, her recent life experiences made her feel old and
cynical.

<Time to think about something else, Dana, such as which movie you're going
to watch first.>

<Not so fast, there! I've got all weekend to enjoy those. First things
first: comfy clothes, hot food, definitely a glass of wine... Sometimes
anticipation is as good as satisfaction.>

This time, Scully winked at herself.

x x x x x

10:31 pm

Reclining on the black leather sofa, Mulder resisted the urge to call
Scully. After an hour of bouncing the basketball against the wall, the
desire to hear her voice was eroding his willpower. He looked at the phone.


<God, she has such a provocative voice. It always surprises me when I hear
that throaty voice coming from those exquisite lips.... It's so incongruous
with her serious suits and scientific words.>

<One of the many contradictions that make up the enigmatic Dr. Scully.>

<One of the many reasons you have come to love her.>

He reached for the phone and hit speed dial button #1.

x x x x x

Sitting silent and still in striated half-light, Scully stared at the
frozen TV screen. Clutching the remote, she rewound the unfinished video.

<It figures. I try a little escapism and bitter reality intrudes anyway.>

<Maybe you should have stuck with The Learning Channel.>

She laid on her back, propping her bare feet on the back of the couch. The
solitude was shattered by the electronic urgency of her ringing phone. At
this time of night, it could only be one person.

"Hello."

"Hi. It's me."

"Hi..."

He could almost hear the blush creeping across her ivory skin.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

She just knew his eyebrows were waggling, Groucho-like.

"Um. No."

"Sooo...which one did you watch?"

" 'The Revelation.' "

"And...? Was it good for you?" he drawled, determined to arouse a response.

"I...um...I turned it off. There didn't seem to be much point to it after
he...um...got shot..."

Her voice trailed off weakly, perhaps due to embarrassment, but he thought
he detected a note of sadness. <Shit. I forgot about that part.> He decided
to lighten the mood.

"Not exactly the kind of bang you were expecting, huh?"

He was rewarded with a small snort of laughter from her.

"So, are you going to watch the other one? 'The Story of J'?"

"I don't know. Will it pick me up?"

"Well, that depends. The story is sad, but what happens along the way
should at least kick-start your heart."

"Ah. Yes."

What were those two little syllables meant to signify? <God, she drives me
crazy with those cryptic comments of hers. I never know when she's teasing
me.>

She sighed. "I don't think I'm in the mood anymore." He sensed something
deeper going on than just her disappointment with the movie.

"Scully, is something wrong? Do you want to talk about it?"

There was a moment of silence as she debated whether to open her thoughts
to him or not.

"No."

He wondered which question she was answering.

"OK. G'night, Scully."

"Bye, Mulder."

x x x x x

11:21 pm

The doorbell rang. She wasn't expecting anyone. She had a pretty good idea
who it was, but she threw a glance at her service weapon anyway, out of
hard-learned habit. Scully checked the peephole and opened the door. Mulder
was standing in the hallway with his hands behind his back; he was rocking
back and forth on the balls of his sneakered feet. "I decided to come over
and cheer you up personally." He gave her his best lopsided grin.

Scully was immediately suspicious. "What have you got there, Mulder?" She
tossed her head, indicating his hidden gift.

Mischief twinkled in his eyes. "There's only one way for you to find out."

She looked at him doubtfully, carefully repressing a smirk, and stepped
forward. She put her arms around his waist and groped for his hands. Her
cheek brushed against his chest. Her light, citrusy cologne tickled his
nose. He refrained from dipping his head and inhaling the smell of her
skin. He felt an overwhelming temptation to run his tongue up and down her
neck, but ground his teeth together until it passed. His spicy, musky scent
went straight to her head like wine. She thought she could hear his
heartbeat, but realized it was her own pulse thundering in her ears. His
warm fingers entwined with hers momentarily as the exchange was made.

When Scully stepped away, she had a half-gallon of ice cream in one hand
and a 2-liter bottle of root beer in the other.

<Root beer. God, he can be so sweet sometimes.>

She dropped her eyes and smiled shyly, and turned away toward the kitchen,
motioning him in with her head. Mulder locked the door behind him, took off
his sneakers, and moved to the kitchen entryway. He got there just in time
to see Dana surreptitiously swipe at her eyes as she reached for the ice
cream scoop.

"You OK, Scully?"

"I'm fine, Mulder." She threw him a little smile over her shoulder.

She handed him an oversized glass mug, and they went to the living room,
folding themselves down on opposite ends of the overstuffed, blue-striped
sofa. They ate their root beer floats in silence. Finally, she decided to
share what had been on her mind.

"I wasn't expecting it, and I guess it just cut a little too close to the bone."

Twisting around to face her, he nestled his back into the corner of the
couch and crossed his long legs Indian-style. He said nothing, but assumed
his "sympathetic listener" posture, cocking his head to one side, waiting
for her to gather her thoughts.

"It's kind of silly, really.... I don't know." She was gazing into the
depths of her mug as if it were a crystal ball giving her answers.

He wanted to make this easier for her somehow. He knew she didn't often
confide her private thoughts to anyone. He had found out about the one time
she had sought professional help through the Bureau, during the Pfaster
investigation. At the time, he had felt hurt that she thought she couldn't
talk to him about her discomfort with the case, but he had come to realize
that it was another manifestation of Scully's concept of her
professionalism and staunch self-control. But so much more had happened to
them since then and it was not healthy for her to keep it all bottled up
inside. He felt honored that this time she felt comfortable sharing it with
him.

"If Dana Scully is thinking it, then it can't be silly."

She looked over at him, his face resting against the back of the sofa. His
eyes were mossy green and thoughtful, caring. Her gaze dropped back down to
her lap. She put her empty glass on the coffee table, more to stall the
moment of confession than anything else.

Dana laughed self-consciously. "I'm embarrassed to admit that something as
mundane as a movie started me thinking about this." She took a deep breath.
"When the character in the story got shot by a former employee gone
postal...my mind started replaying these scenes...memories of you, Mulder,
getting shot.... The Boggs case, when I wasn't right there to back you up
and at least return fire."

Mulder leaned forward. "But, Scully, we had found the kidnapped girl and
you were attending to her injuries."

"I know, but I just keep thinking I should have stayed closer to you. And
then there was the time a little over a year ago when I - "

"Scully, I was out of my mind with drug-induced paranoia. I almost shot
Krycek with a weapon possibly used in other crimes. You shot me to protect
me, I know that." He rubbed his fingers over the scar. His voice and eyes
turned soft and playful. "Hey, how many men can say their woman shot them
because she loved them?"

Scully slid her eyes toward him. He stuck out his bottom lip to wrangle a
smile out of her, but he was too slow; she had already moved on to her next
point. Her voice dropped down to a tentative whisper.

"There was the incident not so long ago when you turned a gun on yourself."

After filing that paperwork, they had tacitly agreed to never speak of that
case again. It had cut them both to the quick, and her mentioning it now
was like peeling off a newly-formed scab.

"Jesus, Scully." Mulder had pulled his knees up to his chest, tucking his
head down behind them.

"I'm sorry, Mulder, but it replayed itself over and over in my head
tonight. I just can't begin to express to you what it did to me to sit
there and watch you put that gun to your head and pull the trigger." She
shook her head to clear away the image.

"But worst of all is what happened two weeks ago." She swallowed painfully,
forcing herself to keep going and get it all out.

"I'm finding it hard to forgive myself for that. Logically, I know I
couldn't help it, that I was unwittingly acting under a foreign influence,
but I should have recognized that something strange was happening. I should
have made a better connection between the videotaped TV shows and the
uncharacteristic paranoid violence of those otherwise peaceful, law-abiding
citizens. And why didn't I think that the same thing would happen to me if
I watched countless hours of that garbage? Did I think that just because I
carry a badge and a gun, I'm a superhero with magical powers?"

Mulder sat speechless, taken aback by Scully's self-aimed tirade.

"Yes, Scully, I think that's exactly what you think. Listen to yourself.
You're beating yourself up. Why should you be ashamed to admit that you're
just a human being with a badge? As law enforcement officers we do what we
can, but at the end of the day we're just people with natural human
responses to physical and psychological stimuli."

"But, Mulder, I should have seen it coming. I knew how it had happened to
the others. I felt the paranoia creeping up on me...and I gave in to it. I
stopped trusting you and I almost killed you."

She was looking down at her hands twisting in her lap. Mulder reached over
and clasped them, stilling them.

"Well, then, I guess we're even." He tugged on her hands. "Come here."

They scooted toward the center of the couch. An arm around her back pulled
her body against his and his hand behind her neck fitted her head under his
chin. She put her arms around him and linked her fingers. They sat in
pensive silence, swaying slightly, absorbing each other's warmth.

His thumb stroked the silky, sensitive skin beneath her ear. The thick
cotton of his shirt was velvety under her cheek. She pressed her lips
against the spot over the scar she had given him. Her hot breath seeped
through the fabric and seared his skin, impacting him like another bullet.
He gently bent her head and exposed the nape of her neck. His fingers
sought out the place where she carried her own scar. He brushed his lips
over it, feather-light and trembling. Dana nuzzled his shoulder like a
kitten, and felt his pulse as strong as hers. He tightened his arms around
her and held them close, breathing in unison. After a minute, Scully slid
her hands around to his chest and softly disengaged from him.

"I think you'd better go now."

Her sea-mist eyes told him she would like nothing better than for him to
stay. He nodded slowly, holding her gaze, and twirled an escaped tendril of
copper silk between his fingers. They got up from the sofa and walked to
the door. He trailed the back of his hand down the side of her face.

<One of these days, Dana Scully.>

<Soon, Fox Mulder.>

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x