From: Moonrock66 Date: 15 Aug 1999 01:19:01 GMT Subject: NEW: What Comes After (1/1) Title: What Comes After Author: Georgia Email: Moonrock66@aol.com Category: V, MSR Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Through 6 Summary: Mulder and Scully face the morning after at work. Disclaimer: So they're ours after season seven? Author's notes: Thanks to JLB's Sleep for inspiring me to finally finish this one. In case you missed her wonderful story, you can read it here http://members.aol.com/amory20/page/index.htm. ----------------------------------------- Scully and I became lovers last night. Even now the truth of that statement makes me shake my head. Normally I'm the first one to believe anything. Articles I read. Second hand stories I hear. Theories on the existence of artificially intelligent dung-eating robotic probes from outer space. But with Scully, I've always been a skeptic. Not that she could love me. She must. Determination and curiosity only go so far. But I doubted that she would ever open herself to it, admit the attraction. Scully is so controlled, so good at suppressing her emotions. I never believed she'd acknowledge her own feelings, much less act on them. I've loved her for a long time. I don't even know when it started. But since Modell first shoved it into my consciousness, I've never let myself hope that anything would come of it. First of all, she deserves better. I'm a bastard enough to work with. Just imagine how badly I can screw up things in a relationship. Plus, I thought I was protecting myself. That not being involved would somehow make it easier when she came to her senses and left me. That rationalization vanished with her cancer. Losing Scully would kill me whether or not we ever made love. Well, there were countless reasons, all of which left me in a flash last night as soon as I kissed her. I've never had another woman look at me the way she did. She's long possessed my heart. But I swear to God, the moment I pushed into her, she held more of soul than I did. I should be the happiest man in the world. Instead, I'm scared shitless. I feel like throwing up. Which is why I'm sitting in my car in the parking garage, watching the clock change from 9:30 to 9:31. I'm afraid to face her. Usually I get to work long before Scully. But I woke up late this morning. And worse, I woke up alone. The sheets beside me were rumpled, still warm from her presence. And I could smell the faint mixture of her perfume and shampoo on the pillow beside me. Other than that, there was no trace of her. No note. Nothing. And I don't know what that means. At first, I was sure that I had disappointed her, that the sex had somehow been less that she'd expected. I think that explanation would have been a relief. Better than regret or fear or embarrassment. But I knew it wasn't really possible. What happened between us was mindblowing. That's the only term I can think of to describe it. Great sex, I mean fucking great sex, as hot as any I've ever had, that managed to be sweet and shattering at the same time. It's 9:36 now. I can't put this off any longer. I finally pull myself out of my car, not sure which possibility is worse. That's she's waiting in the basement with a list of reasons why we're a mistake. Or that she's not even here. That she can't face me. For all I know she's off writing her letter of resignation. Or more likely updating it. I think she's had one on disk since last summer. Probably longer. I nod to the security guard and a couple of agents still new enough to be impressed by the legendary Spooky Mulder. I wonder if anyone can tell that the rumors are now true. That Scully and I have finally done the deed. I mean despite the knot in my stomach, I've got a permanent smile etched on my face. They'd laugh if they knew how it actually happened. We didn't do it on the desk. Or during a stakeout. We didn't share a motel room. Or an elevator. No with us it took something much more shocking. Scully came over to my apartment to work, and we started talking. At first it was just simple stuff, about our day, work, people we both know. She laughed over the latest issue of The Lone Gunman. I asked how her mom was. We talked about the movie on tv, the heat, her brothers, my fish. Really nothing big. It was nice. A relaxed, no place else we'd rather be kind of intimacy. I ventured a question about her health, expecting no response beyond, "I'm fine, Mulder." Maybe it was the moment, the closeness, the late hour. I don't know. But for some reason, she sighed and told me the truth. About the pain after Ritter shot her. How it still hurt sometimes. That she hated the scar. I laid a sympathetic hand across hers, trying to work through my urge to kill Ritter and tell her how sorry I was. But Scully didn't need my words. Something inside her broke with the simple confession about her health. And things we never talk about began to pour from her mouth. She told me that Saturday was Melissa's birthday, that she needed a vacation, needed something to change. Loss. Pain. Fear. Everything she'd been thinking, wanting to tell me. It all came tumbling out in an uncensored rush. My eyes must have widened because she stopped suddenly. Seemed to check herself like she realized what she'd been saying. Then as if she owed me an explanation, she asked the question that would change our relationship. "Mulder, don't you ever get lonely?" The shift in her eyes was slight, but I saw it. She was bare before me, vulnerable. And I knew I shouldn't do it. But I had to, just once. I leaned down and kissed her. Lightly. Barely a peck. I should have known what would happen. You can't play around something so combustible. Before I knew what hit me, Scully was kissing me back. Hard. She was in my lap, tongue in my mouth, hands clutching at my hair. It took me a moment to realize that everything I'd wanted for six years was really happening. That I finally had permission to touch her. Kiss her. Taste her. That I could wind my fingers through her hair, stroke the soft skin of her cheek, crush her body to mine. And the idea that she wanted me to do these things was almost as intoxicating as the feel of her skin against mine. I pushed up against her once, her hips meeting mine in a playful thrust. It took another try before I raised both of us to our feet. Our lips never parted as we pulled each other, a tangle of hands and loosened garments into the bedroom. And I made love to her. Scully. No one else. I was afraid this would change things between us. That she'd turn into some woman I didn't know. But the Scully beneath me was the same Scully that had always been beside me. I recognized those small confident hands, her dedication, trust, and respect. As always, she did her research. Trailed her lips everywhere testing my response before settling her mouth over the hollow of my neck. I felt her smile as my moan gave her the proof she so needed. And when she finally let go, her voice was the same one that challenged my theories, comforted me in the hospital, cried out in awe on a psychiatrist's couch. My name on her lips sounded like it always had, full of affection that I'd never recognized before. Her whispers coaxed me on until I was groaning unintelligible things that were meant to tell her that she's beautiful. That I love her. That I'll never want anyone else. I don't know if she understood. Because soon her name rose from deep inside in a loud piercing cry, and I collapsed on top of her. No more words were spoken. I fell into an almost immediate sleep, wrapped around her from head to toe. Despite my earlier remark about baby cats, I've never been much for cuddling. I don't sleep well on my own, much less with someone beside me. But her presence was a comfort. I drifted off in near peace, floating high in the feeling of absolute oneness. Maybe she took it the wrong way. I'm stalling outside the office door now, like I know she must have that first day, trying to work up the courage to go in. I know she's here. I can feel her presence. I open the door as nonchalantly as I can. She's working at her computer. She looks up and greets me as usual. "Morning Mulder." Oh God. No. Denial. I can take anything but that. Yell at me, hit me. Cry. Just don't pretend like it never happened. "Hey Scully," I manage fumbling my way to the desk. I never said the words. Now I'll never get to. Six years for a one night stand. I can't do this. I settle behind my desk, glancing over at her almost constantly. She looks up once catching my gaze and smiles. Her usual half smile. Nothing like the fireworks I saw last night. Ten minutes go by, and I'm still just sitting here. I haven't turned on my computer. I haven't checked my messages. I haven't moved except to fidget in my chair. And she hasn't said a word. She just keeps typing away on some damned report. I don't know how she does it. I can barely resist the urge to kiss her. And the way she smells is bringing it all back in detail. I don't know how this can not change things between us. We are more now damn it. We are everything, I want to scream at her. "Scully?" She stops typing and looks up. I say nothing, try to hold her eyes. But she looks back at the screen. "Did you read that email from Skinner?" What the fuck is she talking about? I don't give a damn about Skinner. "Scully?" I try again. This time she closes whatever she was working on and stands up. "I have to go pick up some lab reports Mulder." But I'm not letting her go. She starts for the door. I grab hold of her arm, tugging her around to look at me. "Scully?" She shakes her head. But her eyes soften at my touch. "We'll talk later Mulder," she says. Her words sound hollow, strange, and I don't understand until I read the message in her eyes. Her words are a cover. Her gaze holds the truth. With her eyes Scully tells me that she loves me. That last night was more than she'd ever hoped for. That it was a beginning. She says that she wants me. Just not here. She begs me to understand. I do. My nod brings back her brightest smile. We hold each other's eyes a few seconds more. Then she turns to go. "Check your email, Mulder," she says grinning and closes the door behind her. I stare at the space she left for a few moments. I guess she's right. We're still just two FBI agents. Mulder and Scully. That hasn't changed. We love each other. That isn't new. It's not like I haven't wanted to kiss her everyday for the last six years. I sit back down at my desk and flip on my computer. We can work together and still be professional. We can sit in Skinner's office and not leer at each other. We aren't going to have sex in the FBI's basement. Hell, I won't even touch her at work if it means I get to sleep beside her every night. Scully just wants to keep what's none of their business, none of their business. And I agree with her. For now. They've taken too much from us already. I open up my email. Accounting. Junk mail. Lab. A UFO groupie. Frohike. Skinner. And finally, Scully. Subject: expense report I double click on her message, praying it's more than what it looks like. Her words are simple, innocent. But they make me happier than any I've ever read: >>Can we work at my place tonight? Here are the reports we need >>receipts for. I open the attachment with a laugh. We turned in these expense reports last week. And I know. That we're really going to do this. That tonight I'll finally say the words. I'll tell her I love her. And this time we'll take things slow. Tonight I won't sleep at all. I'll lie there and watch her dream. And when she wakes in the morning, I'll tell her how beautiful she is. That she's the best thing that ever happened to me. I'll kiss her one last time before go. I need something to last me through the day. Then I'll go home and turn back into her FBI partner. Maybe I'm crazy. But that's more than enough for me. end. ------------------------------------------- I'd be the last person to suggest M&S try a relationship off screen where we never see it. But I'm willing to compromise. At this point, even a hint of the old UST (and the death of Fowley) would make me happy.