From: Jessica Date: Tue, 28 Sep 1999 18:13:25 -0700 (PDT) Subject: What I Perceive by Jessica Source: direct What I Perceive (1/1) by Jessica Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance Category: MSR Rating: PG Spoilers: Small ones for Tooms, Triangle, and The X-files: Fight the Future Summary: From Scully's POV, reflecting on her partner and their relationship Disclaimer: Dana Scully and, unfortunately, Fox Mulder, do not belong to me. Chris Carter gets all the credit for this dynamic duo, and for the X-files, etc. etc. etc. I'm a college student, so it's not like you'll get millions if you decide to sue me. Anyway, I only borrowed them for awhile. They've been returned in perfect condition for the seventh season of the best show on TV. Counting down the days till the premiere. :) Personal Note: This is the first X-files fan fiction I've posted, although I have about six more unfinished on my hard drive. I wrote this in one sitting, just for fun, the other night when I was bored. I do love to write, and of course I love the X-files, so this was pure enjoyment. It's a little boring...hopefully the next one I post will be better. Comments welcomed. ___________________________________________ I love it when he smiles. From the beginning he's always held a certain fascination for me: his honesty, his integrity, his childlike exuberance, his insatiable search for the elusive truth. But nothing, nothing about him, enthralls me more than when he smiles. I know that must sound strange, especially coming from a woman who takes little time out of life to smile herself. But its true. And if you could see him, the way he looks when he smiles, maybe you'd understand why. Maybe. He's a brilliant man, my partner. A genius. His mind is always brimming with information, both trivial and relevant, and his eidetic memory is a marvel. But he has a way of losing himself in it. Losing himself in a chilling, very frightening way. That's how he earned his nickname, Spooky; by slipping into the minds of the psychopaths he tries so desperately to apprehend in his quests to save the world. Well, that and his penchant for the paranormal. He is a noble man. His intentions are always good, always true. And his is the most important job of all: he is a truth seeker. He puts his life continuously on the line for his causes. He has the notion in his head that he most certainly can save the world, thank you very much. He is naiive that way. But always, always noble. He is a kind man. He cares for people. He cares for me. He tends to believe the best of everyone, a shocking testimony to his integrity in the face of his line of work. Perhaps he is a little too trusting in spite of his paranoia. But this is simply because he is kind. He is a humorous man. There is always a wisecrack falling from his lips, a gleam in his eye as he mercilessly flings innuendo after innuendo at me. His sense of humor keeps me sane. I try my best not to indulge him - after all, if I didn't, who would be the straight man in our partnership? But that doesn't stop me from seeing how unique and refreshing his brand of humor is. I marvel at his one liners, amazed that with all he has seen, he is still able to laugh. He is a lonely man. He always has been; a solitary figure in a trenchcoat, standing at the fringe of society, hesitant to step forward and become one of the masses. He is comfortable in his isolated existence, figuring that venturing any farther would be an unneccessary annoyance. And I know he is afraid. He is able to believe the best of people, yet is wary of letting them close. He has been hurt, many times, this man. Loneliness is his security blanket. Most of the time he clutches it for dear life. Once in a while I'm able to move it aside, and take its place. Not often enough. He is a humble man. His self-righteousness and arrogance are an act, a defense mechansim. I may not be the psychologist, but I've been with him for six years now, and I know Mulder's psyche as well as I know my own. He is quick to take the blame in any situation, many of which involve me. His guilt complex is enormous. His self-esteem is negligible. Caught up in a web of deception and pain, he often plays the role of martyr. But only because he believes he has little worth. Brilliant, noble, kind, humorous, lonely, humble. All of these attributes, plus countless more that words do not do justice, shine through when he smiles. I love it when he smiles. He's smiling right now, probably because he's been talking and noticed that I haven't heard a word he's said. Most likely he thinks I've fazed out, thinking about a case or an autopsy or some new scientific theory with which to zing him. He is utterly clueless about how often I am thinking about him. But I do think of him...all the time. And especially when he smiles. "Scully?" he says now, a teasing grin causing the corners of his mouth to turn upward. His eyes are pools of mischief. "Care to share with the rest of the class?" I stare at him for a moment, then realize there is a slightly goofy smile on my own face, which has appeared of its own accord. "Nothing," I say hastily. "It's nothing." "Oh really? Because I get the feeling you were laughing at me." I fix him with a deadpan stare. "Mulder, I would never laugh at you." He snorts, but the grin remains. "Your nose grows longer as we speak." "Must be an X-file, Agent Mulder." He looks inanely pleased. A part of me understands that I hardly ever banter with him like this, and that's why he's grinning like an idiot. I feel a pang for being so untouchable, so aloof, even with him. It's in my nature; I was like this even as a child. He's brought me farther out of my shell, knocked down more of my walls, than anyone. And yet the rigidity remains. Sometimes I want so much to be more like him. To let him know I'm happy. Happy with him. Something tells me that would earn me a smile. He is talking again. Gesturing with his hands - I do love his hands, in fact, I love every single inch of him, he's an extremely attractive man who doesn't seem to know it, making him even more appealing - but today its his smile I am focusing on. "What do you think?" he asks. "I think you're absolutely right," I say, trying to cover up the fact that I've been ignoring him again. He gives me a baffled look - lending him the amusing appearance of a wide-eyed professor, especially with those sexy glasses - and that beauteous smile turns into a slight, puzzled frown. "You think I'm right?" he repeats, and from the tone of his voice you'd think I'd just confessed to being of extraterrestrial origin. "Absolutely," I affirm, knowing I won't get away with this but giving it a shot anyway. He leans back against his desk and tilts his head, regarding me with clear hazel eyes. "What exactly am I right about, again?" he asks, challenging me. I raise a brow. "Don't you know?" I ask in my most patronizing, how-torpid-can-you-possibly-be voice. He looks amused, but the smile has not reappeared. "Refresh my memory, Scully." I turn away and shuffle through papers, pretending to search for something. "Honestly, Mulder," I retort. "I really don't have time to play games. We *are* working here, you know." Bad move. "*I'm* working, Scully," he says. "I'm not so sure about you. You've been off in la-la land for most of the morning." He pauses, giving me an opportunity to spill my guts. I mutely shuffle more papers, ranting at myself for starting this. He clears his throat. "Penny for your thoughts?" he offers. He thinks something is wrong. I can tell by the tone of his voice. It's changed from amused to concerned. "I'm fine, Mulder," I say lightly, hoping to cast some sunshine through the black cloud that has just descended on our office. "Just a little tired. It's Friday, after all." There is a silence. I know he's deciding whether or not to believe me, to let it go. I close my eyes briefly and hope he does. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. My back is to him, so I can't see his face, but I can picture it, tender concern etched on his boyishly handsome features. "You do look a little tired," he says quietly. A beat. "But still beautiful." Beautiful? I stare at the papers in front of me, eyes unfocused. He just said I was beautiful? I am grateful. I am embarrassed. I am moved. I have no idea how to respond. "Thank you, Mulder," I finally manage, unable to turn around and face him. Whatever had possessed him to say that? Mulder never gets serious. He never says something like that unless its just more meaningless innuendo. He must be trying to cheer me up. "Scully?" I swallow. "Yes?" I suddenly wish he'd go away. "Ah, I'm sorry - I didn't mean to, uh -" "It's okay," I say quickly, relief washing over me along with an emotion I don't want to acknowledge, and turn around, pasting a smile on my face as I do so. Mulder is still leaning on the desk, but he's tense, staring at me. "It's okay, Mulder," I repeat, hoping to convey a message that I'm fine, everything's hunky-dory, let's just get back to work before this turns serious... Apparently his psychic channels have some static interference. "Are you sure, Scully? You've been quiet, all morning, and..." he hesitates, casting around for the right words. And what? And he thinks I'm beautiful? Mulder...do you really think I'm beautiful? "Yes...I do," he says slowly, and I gape at him in horror. My God. Jesus Lord. Did I really say that out loud? I give a tiny, startled laugh and turn around again, my hands scrabbling desperately over the papers in front of me. I am mortified. I can feel the blush start on my cheeks and spread outward. Curse of the redheads. I have no idea what to say. And I don't think he does, either. Thank God for telephones. Mulder grabs for the receiver on the first ring, saying a brisk "Hello," and turning away from me. Blessed invention. We have been saved by the bell. A few minutes later he hangs up, glancing over at me but not really meeting my eyes. "That was Skinner," he says. "He wants to see us." "Now?" I ask, praising Skinner for his timing. "Twenty minutes." Twenty more minutes alone with Mulder? I think not. Not until this anomaly in our relationship has had time to blow over. Mulder seems to be thinking along the same lines. He glances at his watch. "We haven't eaten lunch yet, Scully, and its past one. Want to go up to the cafeteria and grab a bite?" I have never wanted anything more. "Sure, Mulder," I reply casually, standing and straightening my suit, and running a distracted hand through my hair. My blush has faded but I can still feel its heat, lingering on my face. I turn away and march determinedly to the door. I pause, hand on the doorknob. "Coming?" "Right behind you," he says, slipping on his suit jacket and following me out into the hallway. As we walk in silence toward the elevators, it is clear that this incident isn't going to be brought up again. Instead it will be filed away in the proverbial folder marked 'Things Never to be Discussed' and put into the what-might-have-been filing cabinet. Along with all the others. Fleeting glances. Lingering caresses. Comforting embraces. Three uttered words in a hospital. An almost-kiss in a hallway. As we mutually store the file, standing in wait for the elevator, I feel once again the bitter mixture of relief and regret. The folder must be put away, of course. What we have now, this friendship, this unfathomable connection...it is too precious to be tampered with. This is how it has to be. The elevator dings and the doors slide open, beckoning us toward neutral ground once more. Once we step into that elevator, the moment will be lost, and our safe existances will resume, our partnership once again reigning above all else. But just before Mulder steps inside, he looks back at me. He studies me, hazel eyes intense, and then opens his mouth to speak. Fumbles. Changes his mind. Opens it once more. "You know, Scully," he says very seriously, "you *are* beautiful." I stare back at him, unable to reply. His eyes soften. "Especially," he says quietly, "when you smile." I falter. My mouth moves but there are no words, no sound. The look he is giving me is akin to heaven on earth, and I am almost afraid to turn away. So I don't. And I find the words. "Mulder?" I allow the corners of my mouth to lift, and I gaze at him. "So are you," I say softly. He smiles, reaches out and smooths my hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear in a surprisingly intimate gesture. His eyes flitter across my face, and lock onto mine again. "Let's go get some lunch, Scully," he murmurs. I nod my assent, and at last our gazes break. I follow him quietly into the elevator, and we wait for the doors to close, taking us away from yet another hallway, another unforgettable moment. "Chicken salad or roast beef?" Anything to break the tension. "Iced tea or root beer?" he challenges, waggling his eyebrows at me, his face suddenly serious. I pause, and smile slowly. "I think I'll go with iced tea this time," I say, wondering what in the hell I'm trying to accomplish with a cryptic statement like that. His grin is breathtaking, his eyes lighting up like a switch has been flicked. I smile in reply, uncertainly, fearfully, hopefully. The file drawer remains open an inch, the contents of that conceptual folder suddenly accessible. Mulder's expression betrays both his fear and his joy at the prospects of what has just transpired here. His eyes are a myriad of emotions, but I recognize and understand them all. Uncertainty. Trepidation. Joy. Affection. I do love his smile... But it's in his eyes that I can see he loves me. ===== "I didn't get his name, I was too busy getting my ass kicked." / "Is there any way I can get this off my fingers quickly without betraying my cool exterior?" - Mulder "Mulder, I wouldn't put myself on the line for anybody but you." / "If I quit now...they win." - Scully