From raquelm@urjwc.ucla.edu Mon Apr 14 19:59:45 1997 Subject: EP> The Truth Be Told (1/1) From: Raquel Montoya -------- Remember what I said about first time authors being really very good? Here's further proof. :) - Raquel xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I've read lot's of stuff on the net. I decided I would like to try. This is my first time. I may need some help. I have included my story here, and if there is something else I need to do, let me know. From: Anna Chait (anabanana@webtv.net) Subject: New Story - The Truth Be Told (1/1) Date: 11 April 1997 Rating: PG Disclaimer: (you know the drill).....The X-Files and the characters portrayed therein are property of CC, Fox Broadcasting, 1013 Prod., etc. Excerpts from Garth Brooks song "If Tomorrow Never Comes" are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. Relationship: This is definitely a romance, and like all good romances and little angst and humor goes with the territory. Summary: They want to be together. Face it, they want...period. But like all things X, nothing comes easy. After a close call, Mulder realizes tomorrow is promised to no man. What will he do about it? Scully wants to know as well. Spoilers: In the Mulder/Scully world of my making there is no cancer. But there was a Pusher and Tunguska. This story is after that. THE TRUTH BE TOLD "Tis strange, but true; for truth is always strange." Lord Byron Whatever she had been about to say, she decided against it. He could tell she had swallowed the no doubt smart remark she was going to make, and he would wager his Knicks T-shirt that it somehow involved the uniqueness of his tie. He moved around her desk carefully. The office had always been a bit small for them to work in. Now it felt as though the walls were crowding in on them. No matter which way they turned they were bumping into each other, or touching, or avoiding touching. It was getting ridiculous. If one of them didn't say something soon.... "Hey, Scully. How was your day off?" he asked, not really expecting an answer, hoping against hope that today was the day he could work up guts to tell her what she wanted to hear. How did he know what it was? Because he did, without a shadow of a doubt he knew. He could see it in her eyes, an soft sort of look of resignation that she saved just for him. He'd first seen it on Saturday when after driving her home from their latest assignment he'd carried her bag into her apartment. Ordinarily Scully managed her own luggage, but she had been thrown through the air about fifteen feet during a scuffle on the case and injured her shoulder. The doctor had said it was nothing too serious, but he'd made her wear a sling and promise to keep it immobile for at least a week. So he'd carried her bag and taken it into her bedroom, turning on lights as he went. "Can I get you anything before I go?" he asked while returning to her living room. She had already found her way to one of the large chairs by the fireplace and collapsed, suddenly exhausted, completely out of energy. She had smiled up at him with sleepy eyes and requested a cup of tea and a fire in the grate. Mulder obliged with both after helping her to remove her jacket and getting her a pill for the pain. Every time she winced, he winced, somehow knowing it was his fault she was hurt. He joined her in a cup of tea, sitting in companionable silence staring into the flames that jumped higher as it caught. They were lost in their own private thoughts and when he looked back at her she had slumped in the chair, asleep. He debated with himself about just leaving quietly, then decided he could at least get her into her bed before leaving. Sliding one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders he tenderly picked her up, letting her body slide forward. She moaned softly as her injured shoulder came in contact with his hard chest, then adjusted her body to fit his. He felt comfortable and safe, as if he had come home after a long journey. Complete. He took the opportunity to bury his face in her soft fragrant hair, and noticed how light she was. How could someone so tiny, practically a featherweight, be so strong, so stubborn and formidable? He'd never met anyone like Scully. She was like no one else--except perhaps himself. Maybe that's why they had been partners for so long. They both hid behind walls of their own making, but did they really protect them? Were they any better off? These were questions he had not pondered before. After placing her gently on her bed, he covered her with an afghan, his hands lingering just a bit too long on her shoulders, his eyes scanning the peaceful curves of her face. Impulsively he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Her eyes drifted slowly open and stared into his and time stopped, momentarily halted by tropical sea-blue eyes. She didn't smile, she didn't move, just looked through his eyes and into his soul. And for a moment in her eyes he could see his future, a beautiful woman at his side, a life-partner beyond the accursed FBI. She gently and ever so slowly reached up and ran the backs of her fingers along his cheek still holding his gaze as if waiting...on what? Then she turned away, pulling the afghan tighter under her chin. He got up and stood staring down at her. With great effort he turned away to leave and as he did he heard her say softly, "good-night Mulder." He stood for a long while in the hallway outside her bedroom door, rocking on his heels, his head and shoulders against the wall, staring at the ceiling trying to decide what to do. He knew she was injured and exhausted, drowsy from pain medication, but everything in him screamed to "go back and make her listen to what you have to say!" But he hadn't, he'd bailed. Turned out the lights and locked the door behind him and cowardly crept away from her home. Two days later here they were, again avoiding the truths that needed to be spoken. "I thought you would be wearing that sling for a week." She looked up at him briefly and snapped, "I'm fine Mulder. Have you started those reports yet?" She turned away, preparing to open her briefcase. "Actually, I have. Completed them in fact." he replied nonchalantly. Stunned, she eyed him suspiciously. "Completed, as in finished?" "Done--finished and sent up to the AD's office." He handed her a cup of coffee, enjoying her surprise. She sipped at her coffee, dismayed. What would she do for the rest of the day if there was no report to work over? She could spend the day reviewing computer files she supposed, another day avoiding being too close to him. "What's gotten into you Mulder? You hate to do reports." she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. "Ordinarily that's true. But I thought that you would still have your arm in a sling and that I would be a nice guy for a change and try to get them done on my own." "Well,... thanks." she said to him. To herself " It's about time," humor creeping into her voice. She tried to hide her smile while busying herself with her coffee. There was a loud knock on the door and it opened to reveal the AD's personal assistant. "Mr. Skinner sent this down for you. He says if you have any questions, give him a call." She handed Mulder a file and left as crisply as she had arrived. Mulder sat down at his desk and stretching his long legs in front of him put his feet up, his usual position for studying. For ten minutes or so he flipped through the papers and other information in the file, completely absorbed in the new case. It afforded Scully an opportunity to observe him without his really noticing. He reached absently for his glasses, the ones he only wore to read. They rested on his long nose, the nose that on someone else might have been too long. In her opinion it was positively regal. His hair was being uncooperative again, standing up a bit in the front, some hanging in his eyes. Most days it took a great toll on her will power not to reach up and brush his hair away from his eyes, the urge to run her fingers through his hair being very powerful. His eyes were a bit blood shot as well, but there was no point in asking him if he had slept well. He never did. He was absently chewing the inside of his cheek and tapping his pen on the arm of his chair, almost hypnotizing his partner. She was startled when he suddenly removed his feet from the desk and stood up. He went to her, dropped the file in her lap and leaned in close. His sudden movements brought a shift in the air current in the office and her nose picked up the musky scent of his aftershave which he never knew the name of. In her mind she had dubbed it "eau de Mulder." "What do you make of that, Scully?" he said, pointing at a photograph that was on top. It appeared to be a DNA sequence, and beside it was another. To her eye they appeared exactly the same, but she could be wrong as his sudden invasion of her personal space left her light-headed and breathless. "DNA sequences. From the same person, by the looks of it." she managed to blurt out. And so it went. Another case, another trip, another budget motel. They slipped into their usual roles, all business, bantering back and forth. They did the research, downloaded files from the computer into their laptops, gathered the necessary information and made the appropriate travel arrangements. While Mulder packed that evening, he wondered just how many more opportunities they would let slip by them before they got around to the really important things that they pushed away. He wondered how things would change, would they work together as well? Would things ever be the same and would I want them to be? He had to believe it would be better, because things were pretty bad now. And then it seemed like a stupid thing to delay. He couldn't suffer this situation to go on another day. Before he spent one more sleepless night, he needed to tell the woman he loved that she was the woman he loved, regardless of the consequences. He took a deep breath and hoping for the best, he punched her number into the phone. Scully picked up on the first ring, knowing whose voice would be on the other end. He'd gotten into the habit of calling anytime day or night. There was always something, just one more thing Mulder needed to say every night. "Hi Scully. It's me. Is it too late?" "No, Mulder. What is it?" "I...I need to talk to you. If you haven't gone to bed yet, I'd like to come over." Even if you have gone to bed, I'm coming over. Especially if you've gone to bed. She hesitated before answering him. "Is it about the case? If it is, we have a four hour plane ride tomorrow....." "No,....no, I just.... I just need to talk. All right?" She knew he had trouble sleeping, just as she knew he had nightmares. They had spent enough nights asleep in close proximity to each other for her to know how little he slept. Sometimes she suspected that his mind merely needed to be diverted and he had spent many nights asleep on her sofa after having talked himself unconscious. "Sure, Mulder. Come on over." Now that his mind was made up and the moment at hand, he hit every red light between his apartment and the Interstate. Nervously, he hit the scan button on the radio one more time and it landed on a country station. Country...not his favorite, but the clear voice of the singer and the simple guitar accompaniment made him stop there. As he listened, the lyric reached out of the radio and grabbed him in the gut, then twisted painfully. If tomorrow never comes, will she know how much I loved her? (No....she doesn't...) Did I try in every way to show her every day that she's my only one? (because I haven't) And if my time on earth were through, and she must face this world without me, (We live in dangerous times, do dangerous work...) Is the love I gave her in the past, gonna be enough to last, if tomorrow never comes? (Oh, God, what if that were true?) Cause I lost loved ones in my life who never knew how much I loved them. (Samantha, my father) Now I live with the regret that my true feelings for them never were revealed. So I made a promise to myself to say each day how much she means to me, And avoid that circumstance where there's no second chance to tell her how I feel. Without realizing it, Fox William Mulder, special agent with the FBI, tracker of aliens and mutants, had begun to cry. Tears were falling unchecked from his eyes. That's it; it's a sign from God that I shouldn't let another day go by. Please, he said to the night sky as he stared out the window, don't let me get into an accident before I can get to her. I really need to tell her....he checked the rearview mirror and stepped on the accelerator. "Mulder....what is it? You look awful. Come in." she said, pulling him inside, suddenly worried. His hazel eyes looked weary; he almost looked as though he'd been crying. His manner, however, suggested that he was excited about something, or maybe nervous was more accurate. He followed her into her kitchen, where she made hot chocolate for them both. Seated at her kitchen table, wishing his cocoa was a glass of gin, he began the most difficult discussion he suspected he would ever have. "Scully, do you think much about the future?" She turned her head slightly, watching him through partially closed eyes, suspiciously. It was going to be a long night. A philosophical discussion at 11:30 pm? Only Mulder. "Yes.......my future, your future, the foreseeable future, or far into the future?" "It's not a test. It was a simple question." "Then my simple answer is yes, I do. But I need a point of reference." He sipped his cocoa for a moment. "What do you see in your future? Do you want what most people want? You know, home and family, nice house, Suburban in the garage." She smiled into her cocoa. "I suppose I do. But I don't think so much about that part." "Oh? What then." It was then that they both knew why he was here now. This was it. Their time, their turn at the well. Maybe their day in the sun? Stupid overused phrases, true. But it felt like that. Her eyes met and held his until she answered. "I think the most about what comes before all that. I think more about the man that I will love and share all that with. In fact, I don't seem to be able to think about anything else lately." His eyebrows shot to his hairline, his brow furrowed. "Someone we know Scully?" he asked, whispered almost. Instantly, her blue eyes were swimming in tears and her voice had deserted her. She nodded her head to answer him, tears silently slipping from her eyes while the reality of what she was saying with that simple nod made it's way through his fear. He shook his head, and reached out to touch her face, gently wiping away her tears. He traced the line of her jaw, then ran his thumb lightly over her lips. How many times had he thought and dreamed about those lips, soft and yielding against his? His eyes moved up to her hairline, then back to her eyes drinking in the astonishing beauty of the woman he loved. "I know how much you have given up to stay with me, Scully, " he started. "What sacrifices you've made. I know how many of your friends have tried to convince you to get out of the X-Files and into the Violent Crimes section. I know what they say about us. But you couldn't leave, could you? I cannot bear the thought that I have been the cause of any pain in your life." "Is that it Mulder? Is that what has kept you silent all this time? You can't protect me from those things, and besides that is not your choice to make. It's mine." He shook his head, that adorable half smile playing around the corners of his very generous mouth. "I do admire your courage. You've followed me into some pretty dangerous situations. I've ditched you more times than I can count, left you behind so you would be safe..." "Safe?" she almost yelled, her voice angry now. She stood quickly and walked away from him, into the living room, needing to put some space between them for this conversation. She could feel him following behind her at a safe distance. "And what if you had ...died?" she turned, spinning on her heels. Mulder skidded to a halt and stepped back quickly. "What if you'd taken a bullet in the brain from that maniac Modell, or never come back from Tunguska? How do you think I would feel then? I would rather have been there by your side, died with you if necessary than alive wondering if there wasn't something I could have done. Don't do that to me any more Mulder. It hurt. And stop making decisions for me, dammit. We're partners, remember?." Again he was amazed by her strength, and her loyalty. He could hear her arguing with Skinner about him, defending him to the very man she submitted her reports to, because she had after all been sent to spy on him, ha, ha! But it had backfired on them. Giving him Scully had only made him better. With her sharp scientific approach and dazzling intelligence she usually offered a new perspective on things that only made his conclusions more accurate and believable, even if she did have the annoying ability to completely deny things when they were as plain as the nose on her face. She'd seen so much yet still had the ability to search for rational scientific explanations. "You're more than my partner and we both know that. I'm sorry Scully. I know I do that but I can't help it. I'm only a man after all. Under this cool man-of-the-90's exterior there's this Neanderthal, and he comes out when I'm around you. I have this urge to protect what's mmm...." he stopped just short of saying mine. She was still angry and he thought for a brief moment that she might slap him. But as suddenly as her anger flared, it died--cooled by his apprehension. Her hand reached out and it took everything in him not to flinch and protect his head. Instead of hitting him though, she touched his face tenderly, silently giving him permission to continue. "Are you mine Scully?" Her eyes were bright and full of tears again. A quick bob of her head was his answer, her vocal chords again ignoring the signals from her brain. "I want you to know this Dana Scully, really know it and not question it because it's the only truth that matters to me anymore. I love you. More than I can tell you, more than I thought possible." "Truly, Mulder?" she asked, finally finding her voice. "Most truly, Scully. Even though I know I don't deserve you. There is no one like you. Only God knows where I would be without you." He stopped talking and reached for her, pulling her to him urgently. He needed to feel her, real and solid in his arms. His mouth found hers quickly and for the first time they kissed. It wasn't a tender meeting of mouths, but full of their raging need for each other. Before the mood could carry them away completely, he dragged his mouth from hers and pushed her away by her shoulders. There was something he wanted to know and didn't want to wait any longer to hear her answer. "There is something I need to know." he asked, shyly looking down at the floor, purposely avoiding her questing eyes. When he finally looked up, her raised brows indicated she was waiting on his question. "What I don't understand is, why me? What in the hell do you see in such a deeply flawed individual?" She laughed, right out loud, something he wasn't sure he'd ever heard her do, and he liked the sound of it. Maybe he could inspire her to do it more often. Funny how neither of them could remember ever hearing the sounds of unrestrained laughter from the other. How could it be that they had spent so much time together and not laughed? They'd joked, Mulder was famous for his wry wit and twisted sense of humor. But laughter, that from the belly, joyful, completely absurd kind of laughter might mean they had to let down their guards, get close to emotions of another sort. That kind of thing was dangerous. She threw her arms around his neck, and it seemed quite natural to pick her up, her feet leaving the floor. "Why, Agent Mulder, are you fishing?" she teased. "No," he answered earnestly, "I'm not. I really want to know," he said, returning her feet to the floor. "Why me? Surely you could have had your pick from any man in Washington, and here you are with me. I have practically no family, I believe my sister was abducted by aliens, and that nearly everyone but you and I are involved in an international governmental conspiracy. There must be at least a dozen men right in this building more appropriate for you than myself." She smiled, that beguiling don't-be-ridiculous-Mulder smile. "More appropriate, maybe. But not nearly as good for me, or right for me. As I said, it's not your choice. I'm a big girl and I've made up my mind. I choose you. And I'll tell you why." She held out her hand to him, and with a smile full of his complete trust, he took her hand and followed her into the living room where she sat beside him on the sofa. She needed to touch him, to be held by him, feel him close to her. "How could I not fall for you, Mulder? From your shoe laces to your fabulous nose you radiate a kind of nobility." She stopped and lowered her head to his shoulder before continuing. "You've held to a belief that you alone can find out what happened to your sister, and along the way you've fought for the little guy, never letting go, always standing up for the truth with a tenacity that I admire." she stopped a moment, collecting the rest of her thoughts, then pulled away from him to stare into his eyes. "You've put yourself between so many people and death it scares me." she said, almost in a whisper, and placed her hands on either side of his face. "You're my hero, Mulder. In a world with few heroes, you qualify. A real-life, flesh and blood, all-American hero. And I've loved you for so long...so much." For a brief moment in time, they smiled at each other. Then she moved his head closer to hers and kissed him. His eyes closed, and she could feel his tears on her cheeks. Thank God, and thank Scully. The eloquent Dr. Scully. The flood gates of happiness had just opened for him and rivers of light flowed into all the dark places of his life. The possibilities for the future were numberless, numberless dreams, in the words of W.B.Yeats. "Besides," she said, her lips tantalizingly close to the soft flesh in front of his ear. "You're just too damn good looking." What is she doing to me? He could almost hear his nerve endings crackling. The lower half of his body was beginning to flame as she slowly wrapped her lips around his earlobe nibbling, then letting it slide slowly between her teeth. "Is that enough for you, Mulder?" she whispered. "Enough of that, yes," he said, his lips starting to move slowly up and down the creamy column of her neck. His mind had spun many fantasies about what they were doing just now, how it would feel. But even his overactive imagination didn't come close. He pulled her under him and raised up on an elbow to look at her again. Her eyes were half closed, already a deep, dark blue, misted darker with passion. Her hair felt in soft waves away from her skin, her pouty mouth inviting his exploration. "God, Scully. Besides being incredibly brilliant, inside and out you are the most beautiful woman I've ever known." "Enough talking, Mulder." she said, filling her hands with his shirt and pulling him down to her. Her kiss was a drug for him, and he could feel himself downing, questing after more. This was an addiction he desperately wanted to encourage. Before there was no turning back, he jumped off the couch and quickly scooped her up into his arms. Her head snapped back, and she laughed again, wickedly, then wrapped her arms tight around his neck. "Ooooh, Mulder. I've had these fantasies when I'm alone in bed at night and they all start out just like this." Firmly planting a kiss on her lips, he traded smiles with her while making his way to her bedroom. "I've had a few fantasies of my own, Dana Scully." "Still talking....I always thought of you as a man of action." "Action, eh?" he asked, stopping to face the door of her room then kicking it open. "FBI academy, action 101." "Mulder, the door was open." "I know, but kicking it in was so much more....manly." She considered that for a moment, then responded. "You're right. What else have you got? Take your best shot." She heard him giggle, had she heard that right? Fox Mulder giggling? Then he rather unceremoniously dropped her onto the bed. Before she could recover, his mouth was on hers and his hands were conducting a symphony on her body that left her breathless and trembling. Quickly the mood had changed again and she moaned his name. Mulder had only heard her address him by his given name once. Once was all it took for him to realize how intimately it rolled off her petite little tongue. Her speaking his name was foreplay, leaving him in an inappropriate condition for the office and the newness of their partnership. But now he wanted to hear her say it and often. He wanted that intimacy, to feel that base connection to her in that way. The truth had been spoken, their feelings had been shared. Further words seemed excessive. Now their bodies strained toward each other in an effort to be as close as their spirits and minds. Missing pieces of their souls were returned to them that night in Scully's bed. And would be, nightly, thereafter if they controlled events. Somewhere in that night they discovered a mutual peace that neither had ever dreamed possible. Their life together would surely be a struggle. Unseen forces conspired against them and against the truths they labored to expose. But against the odds, against all of it they had survived to find each other, to be together. It was good to share life with a partner. The FBI had given him one, and for four years they had shared nearly everything. Now they shared themselves completely and for the first time in a very long time Mulder slept like a baby. No nightmares. Strange, but true. Authors Note: Did you enjoy my version of the great moment? It doesn't seem like an extreme possibility to me that they would be together. Anyway, I had fun writing it. This is my first story in the archive.....let me know what you thought. I can take it. But be gentle, gentle reader. (anabanana@webtv.net)