From: xgirl <xgirl@mindless.com>
Date: Mon, 25 Oct 1999 15:34:18 -0400 (EDT)
Subject: Two Steps Back 1/1 by xgirl
Source: direct

TITLE: Two Steps Back

AUTHOR: xgirl
EMAIL ADDRESS: xgirl@mindless.com

RATING: PG13
CATEGORY: SA
SPOILERS: Through Season Six
KEYWORDS: Okay, I'm being pushed to go with MSR this 
time...although my PFR (promise of future romance) idea still works 
better!
ARCHIVE: Gossamer okay; all others contact me first.

SUMMARY: The strange wackiness of the Rain King encounter takes a 
serious turn when Mulder and Scully are faced with revisiting an old fear.

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and all the characters mentioned within 
belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and Fox Broadcasting - 
not to mention David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson - and are used 
without permission. No copyright infringement intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Those of you who have demanded some sort of 
physical relief for our two from me will find that I've raised the 
temperature a *bit* in this story. :) Otherwise, this mainly started out as a 
response to my utter dissatisfaction with the Rain King episode, which - to 
me, anyway - implied that almost a year after their hallway encounter, 
M&S still had their heads in the sand. (Note about timelines: no specific 
year was ever mentioned, but the main events of Rain King occurred six 
months after Valentine's Day, which places it in mid-August, and I'm 
going with 1999.) Part of the first half of this story is my take on 
explaining away the silly posturing in that show; the rest of it is yet 
another installment to what has become my "Crossing Lines" series of 
stories. More notes at end.

*****

August 14, 1999
Kroner, Kansas

The metallic reflecting ball spun twinkling starlights around the room 
above them as the music continued its swing down memory lane. Dana 
Scully felt a brief twinge of nostalgia as she looked up from her plate of 
food and observed her partner at the buffet table, refilling their punch 
glasses. For a moment, high school didn't seem like such a distant memory 
after all. Of course, the idea of her being on the arms of someone tall, dark 
and handsome at the time was a bit of a stretch, but how could a girl 
complain about living that one out in real life? Mulder was certainly no 
slouch in that category, as had been made clear during this unusual case. 
No, *strange* case was a much better descriptor. With even stranger 
people. Nowhere had she ever encountered a bunch who were so intrigued 
with her and her partner as a potential couple. Surely they were nowhere 
near *that* obvious?

"What's so funny, Scully?" He handed her a plastic glass filled with the 
requisite red liquid.

"Nothing, why?"

"Well, not like I'd ever object to seeing your face light up in that special 
way that you have, but you're grinning like you have some big secret that 
you can't wait to share."

"I am not. I was just thinking, though - isn't this all rather timely for you? 
It's been twenty years since your high school graduation, hasn't it?"

He made a face, his features scrunching up in an appealing sort of way. 
"Yeah, but don't remind me. It's weird to think that it's been twenty years 
since *anything* in my life, if you know what I mean." He stabbed at the 
remainder of his potato salad with his fork and then looked up at her again 
as another thought quickly followed. "Do you ever wonder when you 
stopped being a kid, Scully? Does it feel different?"

"Are you asking because you don't know?" An amused look crossed her 
face as she tried to imagine Mulder as a kid.

"Maybe. I don't think I feel different. I don't know what this says about me, 
but in many ways, I feel the same as I did at seventeen..." He shrugged, the 
gesture almost bashful.

"I think that's on the acceptable side of normal, Mulder," she replied softly, 
answering his need for reassurance.

"Really? Do you ever feel that way?"

"Sometimes, I guess. I certainly understand what you mean, in any case. 
Look at what we've witnessed in the past couple of days...behavior that's 
certainly reminiscent of teenagers, don't you think?" She cocked her head 
towards the newly matched couple on the dance floor.

"Well, Scully, you and I both know that matters of the heart are not always 
easily handled in a grown-up fashion." His eyes scoped out the dance floor 
momentarily before settling on her face in a prolonged gaze. Probably not 
unlike the ones that Holman Hardt had accused him of sending her way.

With nothing to add to his astute comment, Scully instead concentrated on 
returning his gaze measure for measure. 

And the lights continued to spin above their heads.

*****

"So Mulder, when can we blow this hick town?"

Scully tossed the room key on top of the dresser and plopped herself down 
in the chair by the window. They had finally managed to say their 
goodbyes and convince their gracious hosts that they had eaten their fill 
and were just wanting to get some rest. Good thing. She wasn't sure if she 
could have listened to any more of Sheila's stories. The woman had begun 
to grate on her nerves. 

She reached over and cranked up the air conditioning as far as it would go. 
She had felt uncomfortably stuffy all night long. Now that all was 
seemingly well with Holman, the rain had dissipated and all that remained 
was a humid stickiness that promised heat for tomorrow. With any luck, 
however, they could be on their way out of Kroner by early morning and 
perhaps be back home in time for Sunday night supper. 

Following her into what had become their room, Mulder closed the door 
behind him and looked apologetically at her. He removed his jacket and 
tossed it onto the bed. "The best I could do was ten-thirty. I know that's not 
soon enough for you and it might take us the better part of the day to fly 
back to D.C., but...I'll make it up to you, Scully."

"How?" She was only half faking the disappointment in her voice. But 
before she could focus on being sulky, she felt herself being hauled to her 
feet as Mulder grabbed her hand and yanked her from her chair. "What are 
you doing?"

"What I wanted to do all night...dance." He immediately clasped hands 
with her and encircled her waist with his other arm, assuming the position 
as though he had done this many times in his dreams. 

"Mulder, there's no music."

"In my head there is."

"Care to share it with me?"

To her amazement, Mulder leaned in close to her and began singing into 
her ear. "And thanks for the times that you've given me, the memories are 
all in my mind..."

"The Commodores, Mulder?"

"You're very good, Scully."

"Well, I only heard it playing not an hour ago..."

"I wanted to show everyone there just who *was* three times a lady, but we 
were on the job, technically speaking. Now that we're officially off duty - " 

" - This isn't part of the 'making it up to me', is it?" 

"Maybe. Tell me what you and Sheila talked about when you went off after 
her?"

"That was girl talk, Mulder. We don't repeat that to anyone."

"Yeah right, and that's why women don't gossip. Give it up or I'll crush you 
in my arms." As if to prove that he was capable - and not that Scully had 
any doubts - he tightened his hold on her until she was feeling way too 
much of his heat. She started squirming to get loose but decided against it 
when it appeared that she was making matters worse in a slightly 
embarrassing way. Or at least, it should have been embarrassing. 
Apparently he wasn't taking it that way tonight. Mulder leaned his head 
back to catch her eye explicitly and grinned wickedly at her before 
declaring, "That feels good, Scully."

"Mulder...you're getting too close for comfort here." She tried once more to 
put some distance between themselves, succeeding only in pulling her top 
half away from his. He tucked their joined hands to his chest, holding her 
in yet closer by the waist.

"Really? Then stop struggling and tell me what you and Sheila talked 
about."

"You, okay? We talked about you."

He surprised her by relaxing his hold immediately, releasing her from the 
warmth of his body. She let out an involuntary noise that sounded like a 
cross between a whimper and a sigh; scarcely audible, really. Mulder 
peered down into her face but received no further reaction to either confirm 
or deny what he thought he had heard. He decided to leave it alone, saying 
instead, "I gathered as much. What about me?"

"That you're a good kisser, apparently. So she says."

"How would she know? I didn't exactly kiss her."

"Well, from where I was standing, it looked like you were involved." The 
memory of that rather ridiculous moment brought a smirk to Scully's face.

"Scully - "

"- I'm just kidding, Mulder. You should have seen your face." Her smile 
broadened as she further recalled the strangely arousing image of that 
lipstick smudged mouth. "Really, you should have."

He chose not to relive that somewhat embarrassing moment, going instead 
for the interesting possibilities offered by its aftermath. "So Scully, what 
did you have to say about that particular opinion? About my being a good 
kisser, that is."

"I assured her I had no empirical evidence to support her claim," Agent 
Scully remarked in her most scientifically unbiased professorial voice. She 
tilted her head back and looked up into his face, catching a new and oddly 
unsettling combination of amusement and desire in his eyes. She had a 
casual thought about looking down to see if he had recovered yet, but he 
held her gaze firmly.

Scully was surprised when she heard the next words spoken between them. 

"Why is that?" 

She was surprised mainly because the words apparently came from her 
mouth. It also occurred to her that they had stopped swaying to his 
imaginary music, although they were still positioned in one another's arms. 
They stared openly as the seconds ticked by.

"You sure you want to go there, Scully?" 

She wondered if he knew what he was capable of doing to her with that 
voice of his. Something entirely sinful had somehow managed to wrap 
itself around its normal gravely edge, making her knees go weak. Good 
thing they were standing still.

"Why not?"

Again, the words came from her mouth. And once more, they surprised the 
owner of that mouth. From what she could figure, they had also surprised 
Mulder. Dana Scully felt like a fly on the wall, removed from herself, 
watching the sudden and strange drama unfold. How far would this go?

"Because you're in charge. Because you're calling the shots. And if you say 
go, we go." It was a gentle reminder, full of support for whatever she might 
decide, but also loaded with warnings that he wouldn't be the one to stop 
them if she chose to go for it.

She stood and blinked at him for a few seconds, then disengaged her hands 
and arms from his and backed away. He watched with interest as she found 
the foot of the bed and sat down heavily.

"It was the weirdest thing, Mulder, listening to her talk about you like that. 
And then I heard myself describing our situation to her without actually 
identifying us. I mean, our private lives are no one's business. Even if there 
was a truth to tell, I would be stupid to tell it. So it wouldn't have changed 
what I said to her. But for the first time, I really thought about why 
we...haven't..."

"Kissed?"

"Yeah. I mean, beyond...." She was embarrassed, no denying that. But she 
was being truthful about her feelings - as she had recently promised to him 
- and that was typically a painful exercise for Dana Scully.

"Beyond kissed?" He was having fun with her. "That's easily fixed, you 
know." 

"It's been almost a year." It was a statement essentially made to herself. As 
though she were trying to convince herself that it was time to take this 
huge step forward. 

He sat down beside her. "I know. Long time to wait for a kiss. I mean, I 
know I'm good, Scully, but it may not be worth a whole year's buildup." 
She chuckled at his self-deprecating humor.

"Well, I must confess, I'm getting just a bit tired of seeing everyone else 
kiss you. That, and of course, the desire to check out Sheila's claim. You 
know, more empirical evidence for the case file." A little bit of humor 
might just go a long way in helping matters, Scully thought as she forced 
herself to look directly into Mulder's face. She marveled inwardly at how 
odd she felt, how totally unlike herself.

"I like that. Nothing like making it official FBI business. So what's 
stopping you?"

As it turned out, the question itself stopped her in her tracks. She was 
suddenly back in her apartment, on her couch, with "Mulder's" face 
moving towards hers. The peculiar expression on her own face at the 
moment, however, puzzled the real thing who was sitting beside her.

"Something wrong?"

"No, nothing. It's - it's just that that was what Eddie Van Blundht basically 
said before he...well, before you broke down my door."

"Ah. So Eddie and I have something in common after all." He took a 
moment to search her eyes, looking for any minute sign that she wasn't 
wanting what he thought she wanted. He couldn't find anything that 
remotely said no, and knowing her tendencies, decided that he didn't need 
to wait for a spoken invitation. Or for her to make the first move. "I think 
we might have some important differences though..."

Mulder leaned in towards her slowly, draping his left arm over her 
shoulder. His other hand groped for her forearm. He pulled her gently 
towards him until their lips met in that exquisitely sweet touch that they 
had allowed themselves the pleasure of enjoying only a few times before. 
Upon contact, he began to explore new territory by gently increasing the 
pressure, bringing his hand up to the back of her head. Her mouth soft and 
pliable beneath his, he parted his lips deliberately and deepened the kiss. 
Not resisting in the least, she soon opened her own mouth to his, capturing 
his lips between hers. Mulder responded by rolling his tongue in a slow 
and sensual caress of her teeth. The long-absent but instantly recognizable 
sensation of blood rushing in his ears began to weave its familiar torture. If 
this was going to stop at just a kiss, he had to work fast. Tentatively, his 
tongue sought out hers, barely touching at first, then both quickly 
descended into a passionate mimic of their earlier dance movements. He 
exhaled a low groan into her mouth when she grasped the back of his neck 
and pressed herself closer to him.

It was a hungry exploration unfettered by the relative lack of spontaneity. 
Scully would never have thought that their first real kiss would come as a 
result of actually discussing it beforehand. But as she continued to give as 
good as she got, she now knew that spontaneity was not a requirement for 
fireworks between the two of them. The dizzying electricity that they were 
generating was overpowering and proof enough for her. The hot taste of 
his mouth on hers, going far, far beyond a feathery, chaste touch for the 
first time, melted her insides and was starting to impair her ability to think 
straight. God, how long had it really been since someone had done this to 
her? She felt heat emanating from parts of her body that she was not 
normally even aware of, creating a strangely intoxicating sensation. 
Soaring temperatures notwithstanding, however, she knew from the sounds 
that they were both making that someone had to call a halt to this activity 
soon. And she was still in charge.

"Mmm...Mulder." More surprise. Her breathy utterance of his name was in 
response to his sudden break with her. 

Mulder dropped himself backwards onto the bed, chest heaving slightly 
under his shirt and tie. He took in her somewhat glazed expression, 
amused and gratified by the fact that Dana Scully's present breathing 
pattern consisted of a series of little pants that didn't seem to be supplying 
her with enough oxygen. 

"You're gonna be the death of me tonight, woman, but yes, you are still in 
charge," he responded to her unvoiced question. At her continued silence, 
he assured her lightly, "No obligation to buy, Scully, that was just a sample 
for the benefit of your evidence gathering. You can put it in your report...be 
descriptive, I'm sure it'll give Skinner a thrill."

At that, Mulder rolled himself off the bed and headed for the bathroom, 
leaving Scully still sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at his retreating 
form. At the sound of the shower being turned on, her brain cells seemed to 
awaken again. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. Empirical 
evidence was always good. Especially the kind that stood well on its own, 
without requiring further analysis. And she didn't need to do any further 
analysis to know that Sheila - despite her obviously "inferior" sample - was 
right.

*****

When she later emerged from her turn in the bathroom, Mulder was sitting 
up in bed, on top of the covers, dressed in the same t-shirt and sweat pants 
that he had worn to bed yesterday. He had apologized to her last night for 
not bringing any pajamas, but he simply had not anticipated a need to bunk 
together. Scully, on the other hand, was just plain thankful that she had 
packed a sensible pair for herself. 

As usual, he was in control of the channel changer. At her approach, he 
gave her a quick onceover and then paused at a particularly steamy scene 
courtesy of their free movie service. Scully carefully folded back the sheets 
on her side and slid underneath them, trying not to pay attention to the 
sights and sounds coming from the TV. When it seemed to her like he had 
lingered long enough, she turned her head very slowly and deliberately 
towards him and gave him a look. Her eyes fell to his mouth as she felt a 
momentary tingle course through her body at the memory of their kiss. He 
returned a teasing grin, making her at once all hot and cold and not at all 
looking forward to what he had up his sleeve. 

"So Scully, where do you imagine we'll end up doing it for the first time?"

She had anticipated - expected, even - some smartass remark to follow that 
brief spell of shared voyeurism, but this was *not* it. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, I know you've thought about it." He hiked his body around, 
leaning on his right side, allowing himself to look straight at her profile. 
His conversational manner of speaking and casual interest made it seem as 
though he were asking her how she chose her shoes in the morning. 

"Good God, Mulder, we don't have to share every intimate thought that we 
have, you know."

"Us? Never. You're not ready for that. I'm just curious about *this* one."

"Why?" She supposed herself lucky that he hadn't asked what her preferred 
position was. 

"I dunno. Maybe because now that we've cleared another hurdle, we might 
want to think about the rest. Or maybe I just want to know how far off my 
fantasy might be."

His fantasy? Scully groaned inwardly. "Okay, so tell me and I'll let you 
know if you're close."

"That's no fair. Or fun."

Silence. 

"Okay. You know that storage room two doors down from our office?"

"You have us doing it at the Hoover Building?" Actually, Scully had to 
admit - to herself, anyway - that the office thing was always a bit of a thrill 
to think about. Such thoughts had kept her awake through more than one 
dull meeting over the years.

"Well, no, I know we wouldn't - too many eyes and ears - but it's just a 
thought I've always had." 

"'Always had'?" Maybe this *could* get interesting, if she could only turn 
it around.

"For a long time," he said, shrugging one shoulder in an offhand manner, 
like it was no big deal and no big secret. "But obviously I'm not even close, 
so you may as well tell me yours."

Their eyes locked for a long moment during which Dana Scully wished she 
were somewhere else. She wondered if she looked as overheated as she felt. 
The subject of this seeming inevitability between them had never really 
been discussed, which was not a surprise. Normal people didn't talk about 
it, did they? Wouldn't it just happen? Somehow she had expected that, in 
this area at least, perhaps some semblance of normality might actually take 
over in their relationship. That they - like almost everyone else in the 
world - might just someday do what came naturally. 

Lately, however, Mulder was really pushing the envelope when it came to 
this *sharing* business. To his credit, it was undoubtedly a result of her 
promise to him that she would try to be more open. Not that there hadn't 
been many times when she wondered why she had uttered such a thing. It 
seemed like the thing to say, however, after they had spent the night 
together a few months ago. Nothing had happened outside of actual 
sleeping, of course, which was the original intent. She had been feeling 
particularly alone and vulnerable and - having been encouraged by Mulder 
to specify her wants and needs - decided that she wanted to spend a night 
in his arms. The next morning, she had promised him that she would try to 
be more forthcoming about her feelings. Since then, he had been engaging 
her in this on-going game. 

As she continued to stare at him, however, an understanding suddenly 
dawned on her, jogging her memory as to what this might be about. Once 
upon a time, he used to ask her all sorts of outrageous questions. Then it 
stopped. 

"Okay, Scully, let me have this at least... you *have* thought about it, 
right?"

Being able to read that tiny subtle change in his demeanor - virtually 
unrecognizable to anyone else on the planet - had always been Dana 
Scully's downfall. As soon as it registered with her, she couldn't refuse him 
anything.

"Yes, of course." She had to remind herself to keep her head up, although 
she was now mostly focused on the TV rather than on his face. Not that 
that made it any easier, considering what it was that she was watching. "It 
wouldn't be at my place, or yours..." Seeing his raised eyebrow out of the 
corner of her eye, she elaborated, "...too many eyes and ears."

"On the road somewhere?"

"No," she said quickly, before either of them could look around the room.

"Not my place, not yours, not *here*. Where does that leave?"

"Somewhere else, of course. Not like it's FBI business. Some place where 
we might have a mountain view, with a blue-green lake, at a nice resort or 
fancy hotel."

If she was expecting further innuendo or remarks, they weren't 
forthcoming. Mulder merely smiled in appreciation of having been told, 
adding softly, "That's a nice thought, Scully. You should make sure that's 
how it happens." 

His eyes lingered on her face for a moment before he turned his attention 
back to the TV and began flipping channels again. He seemed satisfied that 
Scully had finally understood.

*****

Dana Scully opened her eyes and looked around in the darkness. The clock 
was on Mulder's side, so she couldn't tell what time it was without partially 
getting up. Something had awakened her, however, and her first guess had 
been that her partner wasn't sleeping well. He appeared to be dead to the 
world, however, and it looked like he hadn't moved in awhile. But the 
room was quite chilly now as the air conditioner continued to hum away 
noisily, sending frigid blasts of dry air across their heads. Maybe that was 
why she woke up - it was too cold. She decided that she would have to 
make her way over to the window to turn up the thermostat.

She sat up and waited for a few more moments as her eyes adjusted to the 
light, or rather, the lack of light. Luckily, the curtains did not fully overlap, 
allowing a very narrow slit of moonlight to pass over the foot of the bed. 
She carefully made her way to the air conditioner and turned it off. The 
silence that followed was highlighted by Mulder's steady breathing, 
providing her with a comforting sense of security.

She stepped back and was preparing to get back into bed when she felt a 
liquid warmth sliding onto her lips. Good grief, it was so cold that her nose 
was running. She headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind her so 
that she could turn on the light. Before she could reach for the box of 
tissues on top of the counter, however, she caught a glimpse of her face in 
the mirror and let out a horrified gasp. Blood. Her nose was bleeding.

Fox Mulder woke suddenly to the sound of muffled cries and the very real 
feeling of arms and legs assaulting him. Groggy from a deep sleep, his first 
instinct was simply to fend off the attack, before his training took over. He 
stole a quick look at the clock beside him, grabbing for his weapon on the 
nightstand. It was 4:56 am. His senses came to him immediately, however, 
as he dropped his gun to the floor and turned on the light. Scully was still 
kicking underneath the sheets but her cries were now escalating into 
screams that would undoubtedly attract unwanted attention should he fail 
to calm her. 

His first attempts at grabbing for her limbs were entirely unsuccessful, 
unprepared as he was for her enormous strength at resisting against being 
held down. Intermittent with her screams were uncontrollable bursts of 
tears that wrenched at his heartstrings. It was such an unsettling sight that 
he had to fight down a nauseating sensation that was quickly rising from 
the pit of his stomach. Some deep dark part of his psyche told him that this 
was supposed to be *him*, not Scully. Forcing himself into action, Mulder 
gathered up his strength and finally caught her flailing arms. He held her 
steady, tucking her face against his chest to muffle her cries. After one 
final attempt to kick him away, she seemed to relax as some part of her 
registered who it was that held her. With that realization came a renewed 
torrential flood of tears. What the hell was all this about? 

"Scully?" His voice reflected the sickening fear that he felt. The sound of 
her crying was reaching a high-pitched intensity. "Jesus, Scully, you're 
having a nightmare..." At least that was what he hoped it was. He grabbed 
her by the shoulders and shook her none too gently, not caring what the 
proper protocol was for waking individuals from such a state. In any case, 
it wasn't happening fast enough for him. "Dana!"

That seemed to do it. As quickly as she had been overcome, she recovered, 
pulling away from him and looking around in confusion. "Why are you 
here? Where are we?"

Mulder refused to let go of her arms, negating her attempts to shake him 
off. "Scully...relax. We're in Kroner, remember? A cow came through the 
roof of my room..." He would have laughed if he weren't so scared. 
Nightmares were nothing new to him and a few times Scully had been 
witness to them herself, but this was something entirely different. Even 
during their first cases back from her abduction, he couldn't recall her 
having any difficulty sleeping. At least not when they were on the road 
together anyway. 

"Oh God..." He finally released her arms, letting her cover her face with 
her hands.

"Scully?"

She looked up at him, fully awake and functioning now, although her 
expression betrayed her less than successful efforts at suppressing tears of 
relief. His own emotions teetering on the edge, he responded by pulling her 
into a tight hug. Scully buried her face against him, allowing his familiar 
scent to ground her. Several deep breaths later, her pulse gradually 
returned to normal. She turned her head, laying her cheek against his 
chest. At the sound of *his* racing heartbeat, however, she became aware 
for the first time just how alarmed he was and must have been.

"Sorry, Mulder...I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, that's okay, that's okay...as long as *you're* okay now." He looked at 
her, still questioning.

"Bad dream... I was being taken for tests. Strange thing was, my mind was 
screaming, but it was like my body was willingly walking into it -"

"It didn't feel or sound like any part of that was 'willing', Scully."

"What do you mean? What did I do?"

"You have no idea?"

"Just that I was being taken by doctors - standard generic white 
surroundings, sterile, no details - they were explaining that the tests had to 
continue. I was following along, although I didn't really want to go...that's 
all I remember. Did I hurt you, Mulder?" She suddenly went into doctor 
mode and began examining his arms for scratches or bruises.

"No, no, of course not. Don't worry about me. You don't remember 
struggling to get away?"

"No... I mean, the very idea is horrifying...it doesn't surprise me if I was 
struggling, but..." 

Something flickered across her face. Some spark of knowledge. Mulder 
frowned, keeping his eyes on her as he reached down to the floor to 
retrieve the blanket and sheet that had fallen over the edge of the bed. "You 
have any idea what this is all about?"

"Isn't that your department, Mulder?" It was a feeble attempt at humor that 
failed miserably. She lowered her head in an attempt to escape his intense 
scrutiny. God, this was so unexpectedly embarrassing.

"I'm not an instant dream interpreter, Scully. You'd be able to make a 
better guess about this than me." He leaned forward to look at her more 
closely. "In fact, I'm betting you might *know*, period."

"It can't be as simple as all that, but it can't be a coincidence either." He 
could barely hear her, even in the quiet stillness of the night.

"What can't be?"

Scully gathered up the bedding that he had recovered and wrapped it 
around herself tightly, sitting up against the headboard. She looked at him, 
then turned her eyes front, staring at the dark and silent TV screen. 

"I have an appointment with my oncologist at the end of the month."

Mulder swallowed hard at hearing the words, his mouth going dry in 
seconds. The very thought of what that could mean left him lightheaded. 
He was suddenly extremely thankful to be sitting on a bed.  

She turned back to him briefly, noticing his pale countenance. This was 
definitely not information that she preferred to share with him in the 
middle of the night, but it was obvious to her that it was likely the root 
cause of her nightmare. 

"I used to have these appointments quite routinely - you knew about them - 
when I first went into remission. After the first year, they were scaled back 
to once every several months. It'll be six months since my last visit this 
time, but the difference is, they're planning a full spate of tests this go-
around. It's normal procedure." She recited the information as though she 
were talking about a patient or a case rather than herself. Mulder knew that 
there could be two very different reasons for this attitude. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I'm telling you now."

"Yes, after scaring the shit out of me."

"I said I was sorry."

"That's hardly my point, Scully." 

Was that disappointment she heard in his voice? She probably should have 
told him when the appointment was made. She herself had spent several 
agonizing hours thinking about it after her doctor called. The previous 
appointment back in February - at about the time that they got the X-Files 
back - was so routine that it came and went without any great panic. But 
she knew that six months later, she'd be due for an extensive observation to 
ensure that she was still stable and progressing without incident. It was 
coming up two years since her remarkable turnaround. With the knowledge 
that she'd have to be subjected to some unpleasant tests, she had pushed the 
entire idea to the back of her mind until a couple of weeks ago when her 
appointment was confirmed. 

"Look, I didn't feel the need to concern you with this until the time came. I 
wasn't going to *not* tell you. Is that so wrong?"

"It is if it's on your mind enough to cause you the level of anxiety that I just 
witnessed."

"But it's not. I - I don't know what to say...I don't know what brought that 
on." Something *was* amiss here, Scully thought. Why would she freak 
out like that all of a sudden? It just didn't make any sense. "I need a drink 
of water. Go back to sleep, Mulder. I'm fine."

Mulder couldn't suppress the shudder that sent cold waves through him 
from head to toe. He watched her disappear into the bathroom, then pulled 
the covers over himself and fell back against his pillow. Scully was fine. Of 
course, if history chose to repeat itself, that could mean basically anything.

*****

August 15, 1999
Dana Scully's Apartment

It had been an uneventful drive back from the airport. Scully slept the 
whole way, or pretended to sleep; it was one or the other. On the one hand, 
given the previous stressful night, Mulder was more than happy that she 
was able to get some rest. On the other hand, she had also slept through the 
various plane rides on their trip back. Conversation had been brief and 
perfunctory for much of the day, focusing on work-related matters. He had 
taken the opportunity during their flight layover to do up their official 
report for Skinner. 

Looking back, if Mulder didn't know better, the morning had had an 
unmistakable 'morning after' feel to it, but without the fun of a 'night 
before'. He had gotten up quietly to go out to get some breakfast for them 
and upon his return, there was a noticeable chill in the air. Not hostile or 
anything like that, just discomfortingly quiet. Scully had looked a little 
worse for wear; not that he was surprised. Neither of them had slept much 
after their early morning awakening.

All in all, it was a mode that he was well familiar with from the past: that 
self-preservation instinct of Scully's kicking in after having been so 
emotionally exposed. It was merely the price that he routinely paid for 
being allowed to pick up the pieces. But given their recent progress, it was 
unexpected treatment. To be honest, it was a hurtful blow to him, that she 
would subject him to that old "let me deal with this myself" routine. The 
fact that so much had gone on over the past twenty-four hours also made 
matters infinitely more interesting. So many possibilities for what she 
might be obsessing over.

But it was now many hours later, he was carrying in her luggage - when 
did he start doing that anyway? - and he didn't quite know how to proceed. 
She had grown more and more remote as the hours wore on. Rather than 
slowly opening up again, as he had been expecting and as was her usual 
pattern, she seemed on the verge of a total shutdown. At this point, he was 
either going home for a restless night of wondering if something was up or 
he was going to stay and find out what this was all about. Neither option 
was going to be painless. To make matters worse, he was suffering from a 
raging headache, a condition exacerbated by the fact that his most 
interesting conversations today had been one-sided ones inside his own 
brain. 

He dropped her bag beside the couch and turned to her. "Maybe I should go 
out and get some dinner for us..."

"Mulder, I think I'd like to be alone tonight, if you don't mind." That 
wasn't the answer he had been expecting. 

"Why?" The question was asked very quietly, but his underlying tone was 
harsh, catching her off-guard. He was surprised by his own seemingly short 
fuse.

"Why? I have to tell you why?" Her face registered surprise to confusion to 
anger in less than two seconds. Apparently he hadn't cornered the market 
on short fuses. "Since when did this require -"

"Is this 'need to be alone' thing because something happened between us 
last night that you can't deal with or what?" The throbbing in his head 
increased tenfold all at once at having to ask the question. Undoubtedly it 
would increase even further with her answer.

"What are you talking about?" He was so far off in his diagnosis that she 
honestly had trouble pinpointing what he meant.

"Damn it, Scully, you *know* what I'm talking about -" 

"- I just want to be alone." She turned away from him and started walking 
towards her bedroom.

"I'm asking you why!" Jesus, that one hurt his head. He couldn't recall ever 
raising his voice at her like this regarding something so personal, but for 
once, Fox Mulder was intent on not letting her have the last word and only 
say in this...this whatever it was. The only trouble was, anger directed at 
Scully only translated into pain for him. It had been like that ever since he 
could remember and would probably forever and always be like that. This 
woman routinely turned him inside out emotionally. It didn't matter if he 
merely sat in some dark room somewhere like he usually did, stewing over 
the fact that she had shut him out for the umpteenth time or whether he 
took to yelling at her like he was doing now. His anger would somehow 
turn itself back on him and skewer his heart. "Don't do this to us, Scully." 
He stopped short of saying 'don't do this to *me*'.

"Don't take us two steps back again." 

The plea in his voice struck her deep to the core, awakening just the right 
amount of guilt and anxiety. Scully stopped and turned around slowly, her 
expression indicating that she had just been reminded of something that 
she had previously blocked from her mind. 

"You remember that? You remember telling me how we do this 'one step 
forward, two steps back' thing? For the longest time, I thought it was *me* 
who did that to us. And it probably was. But Scully, it's still happening, 
and I don't think it's me any more." 

"You don't understand." It was a pathetic and lame rejoinder, she knew, 
but she was suddenly feeling shell-shocked and had no reserves left for 
him.

"No, I guess I don't." He felt the quiet anger claw its way back and found 
himself turning towards the door. He forced himself to stop mere steps 
from it, however, short of reaching for the doorknob. "Fine, Scully. You 
want me out? Say the word. I'll go."

Scully moved towards him, rubbing her hands over her face in a weary 
gesture. She could imagine that in the past, a similar war of wills *would* 
have resulted in Mulder walking out the door. And she would have stood 
her ground, however shaky it was. She would have told him to go for the 
sake of her own pride. Actually, more than likely he would have walked 
out without waiting for her answer. But the stakes had never been higher, 
and Scully knew that she couldn't continue subjecting him to this. He didn't 
deserve it, not after all the effort that he had put in on their behalf. But that 
didn't make what she had said any less true: he didn't understand. He didn't 
understand that she wasn't backing off because of their kiss or the fact that 
he had witnessed her nightmare or anything even remotely like that. He 
didn't understand that perhaps this one time, she *did* have a good reason 
to keep him in the dark for awhile. But in the end, it wasn't worth him 
walking out on her, under the mistaken impression that she had even 
*more* intimacy issues. 

"Sit down, Mulder."

He didn't make any attempt to move from his spot on the carpet, although 
he did turn around to face her again.

"Can we sit down please?" Scully repeated, motioning to the couch.

He took a seat at the end closest to where he had been standing, frowning 
when she chose the armchair for herself. That was an unusual move. How 
far away did she need to be, and why? He brought one leg up onto the 
couch and turned towards her, feeling strangely adversarial. He waited for 
her to speak.

"I had an 'incident' last night."

For the fact that it was such an anti-climactic statement, she looked and 
sounded apprehensive. He didn't think that her revelation merited any sort 
of reply, but she also didn't seem in any hurry to continue, forcing him to 
say *something* to encourage her along.

"I know, Scully. I was there."

"That's not what I meant. I guess I should be more accurate and say that I 
had two incidents last night. You were unfortunately on the receiving end 
of the second one."

"What are you talking about?" He pressed a couple of fingers to his right 
temple, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily in an attempt to block out the 
increasing pain of his headache. 

"Apparently sometime before that, I had gotten up to turn off the air 
conditioning." As she spoke, it almost seemed to Mulder as though she 
were trying to establish details of what she was describing. As though she 
hadn't lived through it herself, or couldn't quite remember.

"And?" 

"And I was getting back into bed when I felt something on my lip. I went 
to the bathroom thinking I was going to blow my nose but.... it was blood."

"Scuh -" He couldn't even finish saying her name. In the next few seconds, 
he had to remind himself to breathe. 

"I guess I just cleaned up and went back to sleep - although I don't know 
how. I must have thought it was a dream. Guess that pretty much explains 
the nightmare, doesn't it?"

"How do you know it wasn't a dream?" His voice sounded raspy to his own 
ears.

"Because when I went back to the bathroom to get some water, I saw the 
tissues lying there. It was real." 

She still had not quite controlled the wavering in her voice, which was 
enough for him to know that she was sufficiently alarmed. He also 
instantly had a greater understanding of her behavior and the reasons 
behind it. But with that understanding came another flash of anger, 
although he was very mindful to keep it as contained as possible. 

"How did you manage not to tell me about this?"

"I couldn't. I can't explain to you what I was thinking or feeling, but I just 
couldn't. That's why I said you didn't understand just a moment ago. I'm 
not even sure *I* do."

"You just got back into bed and said *nothing*," he stated pointedly. "How 
was that possible?"

"I don't know, all right?"

His head pounding relentlessly now, Mulder silently berated himself for 
badgering her. First things first. "Do you have an aspirin or something on 
you?"

"What's the matter?"

"I have an enormous headache going on right now and I don't expect it'll 
go away by itself now that you've told me this."

Scully walked over to her briefcase and plucked out a small container of 
pills. She checked the expiration on it, was satisfied, and handed it over to 
her beleaguered partner. Mulder quickly popped a couple without benefit of 
water, a feat indeed considering how his mouth felt like the Sahara Desert. 
In spite of everything else going on, it didn't go unnoticed by Scully, who 
wordlessly went into her kitchen to get him a glass of water.

"I don't know what's worse... me getting upset with you for thinking that 
you were all screwed up over something trivial, or you withholding this 
from me in the first place," he said, after downing the water and nodding 
his thanks. His eyes followed her every movement as she returned to her 
chosen seat.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to drive you around the bend, but I didn't know 
how to deal with this. I thought until I knew, there was no point in telling 
you. I mean, really, Mulder, what good does it do you to know?"

"If the shoe was on the other foot, wouldn't you want to know?" His voice 
was tight.

That seemed to hit a nerve. She pulled herself back into the depths of her 
chair, wrapping her arms around her raised knees. He needed to touch her, 
but her present body language indicated that she had distanced herself for a 
reason. He changed the subject slightly. "What are you going to do?"

"Not like I have a lot of options. Obviously, I have to get checked out as 
soon as possible and hope that nothing's changed."

"I mean, in your medical opinion - what ..."

"It's not exactly my area of specialty, Mulder. I mean, a nosebleed in itself 
can be fairly inconsequential. But with my history, it's not something I 
should brush off."

"No, of course not. How early can you rebook your appointment to?"

"I'm guessing Tuesday morning. It's probably too late for tomorrow."

Mulder shifted in his seat slightly and dropped his head against the back of 
the couch. He stared at the ceiling for several seconds, memorizing the 
textured pattern on it.

"God, Scully, you know what I've been thinking all day, don't you?"

"I can imagine. I'm sorry, Mulder. I think - like you said - the shoe would 
have to be on the other foot for you to realize why it was difficult for me to 
say anything."

"So why did you stop me from leaving just now?" He turned his head 
towards her.

"Because no matter how much I didn't want to tell you about this, it would 
have been worse to have you go away thinking I was shutting you out 
because of what happened last night."

"You're okay about last night?"

"Yes, I'm fine with it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

It seemed as though the twenty questions treatment had stopped, for now 
anyway. 

"Mulder, I need you to understand that I'm grateful for your patience. I 
know that it would probably take a lot on my part to make you leave and I 
feel incredibly lucky about that. I'd hate for you to think that I'm forever on 
a mission to test your limits."

"I don't think that. But you sure make me wonder sometimes."

During the silence that fell over them, Mulder remembered her comment 
upon coming back into her apartment and wondered if he should leave. He 
didn't want to and he didn't agree with it, but under the circumstances and 
knowing her as well as he did, he would certainly respect her wishes if that 
was what she wanted. He considered for another moment, mapping out in 
his mind how the next several days might proceed, wishing he could fast 
forward a week down the road. He decided that for right now, what he 
needed was to hold her. 

"Come over here, Scully." He sat up straight again.

She hesitated for a long moment before approaching slowly, eventually 
sitting down beside him, close but not touching. Mulder reached out and 
pulled her up past his outstretched leg. He was disturbed by how tensely 
coiled and rigid her body was, as though she were consciously trying to 
hold herself together. She didn't put up any resistance, however, when he 
basically lifted her and turned her around, propping her back up against 
his chest. It allowed them to be physically close but not face to face. He 
wrapped his arms around her, holding her snugly against him. 

"I think I understand your dilemma, okay? But this can't happen again. 
You *have* to tell me these things. If we can't deal with this stuff together, 
we're not making much progress."

She nodded and then they both fell silent again, lingering in the moment, 
appreciating the warmth and comfort offered by the simple therapy of 
touch. It would be enough to get them through the shock of this day. 

It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't been prepared for this. This 
'difference'. When the worst of her illness hit approximately two years ago, 
Mulder was still just Mulder. Her partner at the FBI. She wasn't 
downplaying his importance in her life, or the fact that he had feelings for 
her even then - just as she did for him - but that was when it was all unsaid 
and unshared. Unconfirmed. Uncommitted. What existed now was 
completely different. There was just so much more to lose now. So much 
more that had been hard fought for and won. Potentially so much more to 
leave unfinished simply for the fact that so much more had been started. 

Two years ago, she had fought tooth and nail to live, in large part because 
she couldn't bear the thought of leaving him behind, worrying over how he 
would blame himself for what happened. Today, she felt a twinge of 
something more selfish. This time, she wanted to live for herself, to enjoy 
what they finally had the courage to create. She couldn't be denied; not 
now.

Scully turned her head to look at him, intending to express something to let 
him know how she felt. In the second that it took for him to meet her eyes, 
however, her resolve - along with everything else that had been holding her 
together - crumbled away into nothingness. She opened her mouth to speak 
but instead began to cry. 

Dana Scully just couldn't stop surprising herself this weekend.

*****

August 17, 1999  7:30 am
J. Edgar Hoover Building

Fox Mulder walked up to his desk and snapped on the lamp, illuminating 
his immediate work area. It was no secret that this had always been *his* 
office, but that didn't mean she wasn't part of its very essence. While 
outsiders likely couldn't see any obvious Scully influences, his own powers 
of observation could count any number of them pervading the room. The 
mere fact of knowing that they were around was a comfort to him during 
the days and nights when she'd be occupied elsewhere and he'd be left 
alone in the basement. It suddenly occurred to him that there used to be a 
time when he actually *enjoyed* being alone in the basement. Little 
wonder that he could still find solace here whenever he was troubled.

As usual in such times, he was drawn to the words on his poster. Not the 
original, but not important. The thing about it that attracted him in the first 
place was still alive and well. Most people typically took one look at it and 
pegged him as some UFO nuthouse, but then again, most people didn't 
think beyond mere images and catch phrases. They couldn't possibly guess 
that the words held a significant meaning for him in a much deeper sense. 
That in reality, it really had nothing at all to do with UFOs. The word 
'want' had caught his attention when he first saw it. A want: expressing a 
wish or a desire. And while he knew that wishes or desires sometimes flew 
in the face of everything that made sense, it was also no reason not to 
cultivate them. The message had originally been his guiding light, of 
course, for finding Samantha, but in recent years, it had also been a 
growing expression of his hope for something more with Scully. He wanted 
to believe that - perhaps against all odds - he might someday be able to 
make a near normal life with her. 

Yesterday had tested that belief in a serious way. He had called her in the 
morning, to ask how she was doing. Did the appointment get rescheduled? 
Yes. When? Tuesday at eight am. Would she be gone all day? Yes. Did she 
want him to tell Skinner? Sure. Did she need him to go with her? No, that 
wasn't necessary. With nothing much else to report, the conversation didn't 
have very far to go. There was an awkward moment when it came time to 
hang up, with Mulder not wanting to impose by asking to see her. Sadly, 
he had gotten the distinct feeling that she didn't want him to be immersed 
into the old "Scully has cancer" grind by asking him to come over. He 
didn't have the strength to assert himself, so that was how it ended. He 
spent the remainder of his day nursing a pot of coffee at his kitchen table, 
halfway to convincing himself again that he was incapable of offering her 
anything. One part of him chastised him for not insisting on seeing her. 
Another part congratulated him on his cowardly choice to stay away. 
Neither half was giving him much credit, one way or the other. 

He just truly didn't know if he was expected to sit through the next several 
days with her, agonizing over just how much care and attention to 
dispense. Scully was definitely not the sort to be fussed over and he had 
been well trained over the years to keep that sort of behavior to a 
minimum. Had that changed now that they were more than just work 
partners? Was she expecting him to fight harder to stay around and play 
the part of the attentive boyfriend? The irony of the situation was not lost 
on him. Right this minute, he had to admit that he didn't know what to do, 
how to behave, what to think. So he stayed away. Trouble was, Mulder 
didn't truly believe that they were better off apart for *any* reason. 

Chances were that Scully would be fine, as she was so fond of saying. But 
he couldn't even quote odds to himself at this moment to appease the pain 
and fear. What kind of odds could he come up with when there was no 
precedent? While there was no good reason to think that she wouldn't be 
all right, there was also still the mystery of what had caused the cancer to 
go into remission in the first place. That her specific cancer was essentially 
the type that was inoperable had not changed. Should something be found 
at this point, their most horrifying nightmare would return instantly, and 
he could not imagine how they would handle that. 

Once upon a time, his greatest fear had been to lose her to this inexplicable 
illness. Today, the simple thought of reliving that fear terrified him.

*****

August 17, 1999  10:30 am
Trinity Hospital

Mulder peered into the waiting room and saw her tiny form sitting near a 
corner, intently concentrating on something that she had laid out across 
her lap. She seemed to be dressed in normal pants, but she was wearing 
one of those standard hospital issue tops that tied up in the back. Her face 
pale and adorned with less than her normal makeup, he had to convince 
himself that she was just naturally fair and not sick. No matter how hard 
he tried to keep them at bay, recollections of her being in similar 
circumstances came alive in his head, causing the painful lump in his 
throat to slam upwards again. It had been hard enough before, dealing with 
the blame, the guilt, and the self-doubt. He wasn't so sure that he had saved 
any strength to face all this again, were the situation to arise anew. He took 
a deep breath, readied himself and opened the door.

Scully looked up at hearing the door open. At first her face registered 
surprise, but then she smiled at him, quite nearly shattering his attempt to 
steel himself for the moment. He quickly walked over to her, leaned down 
and kissed her cheek, whispering, "Hey sunshine, how's it going?" His 
voice was not as steady as he would have liked it to be.

Scully reached for his hand as he sat down. She frowned slightly as she 
peered closer at his face and into his eyes, seeing the turmoil underneath. 

"Mulder, I'm okay." She had meant it reassuringly, but it was her turn to be 
surprised by the unevenness in her voice. He pulled at her arm, forcing her 
to turn around in her chair to face him.

"Are you sure, Scully?"

She inhaled and exhaled deeply before speaking again. "Yes. Yes, I'm sure. 
At least, I'm sure about what caused the nosebleed. I'm still waiting for 
other tests to be done, but...I don't want you to worry about this." 

Mulder had had a hard enough time dealing with her illness when they 
were just partners. While she was pretty certain that he was no longer 
totally consumed by guilt over it, she knew that it would still be difficult 
for him to see her life interrupted in such a way again. In fact, she 
suspected it would be harder now, for the insanely perverse reason that - on 
the basis of their new relationship - he might now feel obligated to be the 
protector. The one to provide the comfort; the one to provide the strength. 
And despite the fact that Scully held her partner in the highest regard, she 
suspected that it was not a role he felt confident playing. In all honesty, she 
didn't even want to burden him with having to play it. He had done more 
than his share in assuming responsibility for their relationship up to this 
point. She couldn't throw this on him as well, no matter what he might feel 
or say to the contrary.

"Scully?" Mulder's voice broke into her thoughts, bringing her back to the 
present, back to the pale green walls of the waiting room.

"Hm?"

"I was asking, what was the deal with the nosebleed?"

"Oh, Dr. Zuckerman asked whether I had recently experienced drastic 
changes in air pressure or temperatures... Mulder, it seems our weather 
friend managed to wreak havoc on me too, I guess. Combined with the 
prolonged plane trip getting out there, the atmospheric anomalies in 
Kroner were apparently sufficient enough to cause my delicate and already 
damaged tissues to give out momentarily. Supposedly it happened to me 
when I came back from Antarctica too. It's really no big thing."

"That's it?"

"Well I know that sounds a little strange, but yes, that's it. At least so far as 
could be determined by this morning's examination. I have blood work 
that's yet to be done and then yet to be analyzed.... We're not going to know 
everything today, Mulder."

"How often do you get the full battery of tests done?"

"These ones haven't been done in about a year."

"Was that wise?"

"I'm not going to start second-guessing the decisions of my doctors. 
They've been extremely capable, not to mention accommodating to some of 
our more outrageous suggestions."

For the first time since he and Scully agreed to begin pursuing a deeper 
relationship, Fox Mulder felt the heavy burden of fate and destiny on them. 
He hoped that he hadn't been under the mistaken impression that they had 
all the time in the world. Could that ever be the case? Somehow he had 
succeeded in sweeping aside as near impossible the threat of her cancer 
returning. How realistic was that?

After a good five minutes of silence, during which she realized impatiently 
that she had no idea what might be running through his mind, Scully tried 
a different approach. "Why aren't you at work, Mulder?"

"Skinner told me to take the day off; he sends his best wishes, by the way. I 
gotta drop by the office later on to pick up a new case file that's he putting 
together but he says that it's nothing that can't wait another couple of days 
to get started." 

"Anything interesting?"

"I don't want to talk shop right now."

"Well, you don't seem to want to talk about much, Mulder."

Another minute or so of silence passed before he spoke again.

"I missed you yesterday." He turned towards her and looked directly into 
her eyes, catching the barely perceptible flash of emotion that crossed her 
pale face at hearing his simple declaration. So, she thought, here was the 
new Mulder again - taking the bull by the horns. Wanting to play hardball, 
no doubt. "You're still hiding from me, Scully. Why is that?"

"I wasn't hiding." She also wasn't convincing. It made Mulder wonder why 
Scully never tried harder whenever she attempted to pass off a bald-faced 
lie. Without thinking, she added, "Besides, you didn't try too hard."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't try very hard to see me, if that's what you're getting at." He 
heard her loud and clear this time.

"Scully, I don't claim to know much right about now, but I *do* know you. 
And yesterday I got the clear impression that you wanted me to stay away." 

"It's just easier for you that way." She looked down at the floor, instantly 
regretting where the conversation was heading.

"Don't presume to know what would be easier for me, Scully; I don't dare 
make that assumption for you. You have *no* idea what it feels like to sit 
here any more than I know what it feels like to be where you are. I don't 
need you to protect me from this." The words tumbled out quickly, more 
quickly than he had intended, but he didn't appreciate the veiled 
accusation. Unfortunately, he had now provoked exactly the sort of reaction 
that he didn't want from her.

"Neither do I." Her response was sharp. She looked up at him quickly, her 
eyes pinning him with laser blue coldness. The look was enough to pierce 
him with shards of virtual ice. He flinched inwardly, but refused to be 
goaded into an angry exchange.

"You never *have* needed my protection, Scully. Not from anything. 
Occasionally you've needed my rescue services, but that's about the extent 
of it." And if anyone ever asked him, he'd admit to being hurt about that 
one, but it was merely a sad fact of life that he'd come to accept. "But that's 
not what I'm getting at. I'm not offering protection..."

The defiance that had appeared without warning disappeared just as 
quickly as her expression transformed itself into something tender and 
apologetic. The honest sincerity that came through in the delivery of her 
partner's last statement - along with the fact that he had not taken her bait - 
made her feel ashamed. Of course Mulder meant something else. It had 
been so long since she'd been on the receiving end of anything like that, 
however, that she automatically assumed otherwise. 

"I didn't mean that," she murmured contritely.

"Sure you did. Maybe not with such vehemence, but.... It's true, so how 
could you not mean it?"

"It's just that I don't want you to feel like you have to be different with 
me..."

"Haven't we been through that already, Scully? It *is* different. Hell, you 
can't tell me that you're not feeling something else here that wasn't here 
two years ago."

"No, that's not what I mean. I've been sitting here thinking that this is 
probably a fact of life for me, Mulder. This on-going back and forth thing 
with doctors and checkups and hospitals. And I don't want your life to 
grind to a halt each time because of it. I think that's why I couldn't tell you 
before, especially after the other night. I need to know that you won't see 
me differently." 

"'See you differently'?"

As someone that you can't possibly imagine making love to, she thought, 
surprising herself yet again with her own frankness and audacity, however 
unspoken. "Like I'm some fragile sick thing....I don't want you giving me 
that 'poor Scully is dying' look." 

Mulder blinked and turned away quickly, wondering if he was doing 
precisely that. 

"I'm not unreasonable, Mulder. If you're afraid, I need to see that fear. But 
everything else - well, everything else is just life for me." Her 
pronouncement came with the air of someone making the connection for 
the first time. Maybe she hadn't realized it herself until now. "And if you 
want to hang around, this is the whole of who I am."

"So what do we do?"

"We go on with life as usual. We go on with work as usual. Maybe you can 
go back to bugging me with stupid sports trivia whenever you stop by a 
hospital to see me. I don't need you to be different, Mulder. I just need you 
to be you." 

They exchanged a meaningful look, obviously thinking about how they had 
performed the hospital bedside visits for one another all too often in this 
lifetime. Maybe all of this was a fact of life in more than one sense.

"And I need you to stop hiding."

"And I'll *try* to stop hiding."

"Scully -"

"Mulder, the day you promise me that you won't take any more wild and 
crazy chances on your own, *maybe* allowing me a say in decisions that 
might potentially endanger your life, then -"

"Okay, okay, I get your point. I'll accept your nasty habits if you'll accept 
mine." He pointed to the glossy folder that was still on her lap. "So Scully, 
what are you looking at here?"

"Travel brochures. Did you know there's a travel agency downstairs in the 
lobby?"

He shook his head no, waiting for her to continue. 

"The woman there said that the location has actually been good for her. 
Seems a lot of people - once they get the good news that they're all right - 
go on dream vacations as a celebration of life and renewal. And those who 
don't get good news sometimes feel the need to go off and reconcile things 
in their life. She's an interesting lady. We talked for a bit and then she gave 
me these." 

"Planning a trip, Scully?"  The incredibly morbid part of him wanted to 
know if it would be a celebration or reconciliation trip, but he refrained 
from asking. There was a significantly long pause before she answered.

"Well, I'm sort of keeping my eye out for nice resorts with a mountain view 
and perhaps some blue-green lakes. You never know when they might 
come in handy." She smiled at him, but he also saw sudden tears fill her 
eyes and instinctively knew why they were there. 

No one ever battles Fate and wins. But then again, Fate wasn't always the 
bad guy either. 

When he initiated that flippant little conversation a few days ago, it really 
was just for fun and games. Right now, though, he desperately needed 
reassurance that the mountain view and blue-green lakes were still within 
reach, still within the same sphere of reality that they presently occupied. 
Would mere determination be enough for them to find their way back? 

"How're we gonna get there, Scully?" he asked quietly, suddenly aware of 
how powerful their silences were becoming. Without warning, tears that he 
had been holding back for the past two days sprang into his eyes, blurring 
his vision.

"One step at a time, Mulder." She opened up her arms to him as he leaned 
over the armrest of his chair, burying his face into the crook of her 
shoulder. He felt her hand on his back, stroking lightly, then heard her 
whisper into his ear, "Just keep me pointed in the right direction." 

*****END*****

AUTHOR'S NOTES (cont'd): Only one way to describe this experience - 
frustrating! Writing this story was a painful exercise in near futility, but 
the more I wanted to abandon it - and I wanted to abandon it *many* times 
- the more it demanded to be completed. I'm aware that the subject matter 
is hardly original, but for the fact that my version of M&S are just about to 
move beyond the first year of their "relationship", it was something that I 
felt had to be dealt with realistically. The show itself has made it seem as 
though Scully's cancer has just "gone away", but unfortunately it's never 
that simple in real life. 

If this been a worthwhile read for you (and I truly hope so), you might 
want to look for the preceding stories in this series:

Crossing Lines
Reparation
In My Life
Soul on Soul

They can be found at my website: 

http://members.xoom.com/xgirlsfanfic (main site; try this first)
or
http://www.topcities.com/entertainment/xgirlsfanfic (backup site)

Oh, and of course, feedback will always be appreciated and acknowledged!

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xgirl

"That which fascinates you is by definition true."
         - Arthur Dales in The Unnatural

http://members.xoom.com/xgirlsfanfic (main site)
or
http://www.topcities.com/entertainment/xgirlsfanfic (backup site)