From: paperheart@webtv.net (Anna Chait) Date: Fri, 19 Sep 1997 04:00:29 -0700 Subject: Fwd: While We Live, Let Us Live (1/4) While We Live, Let us Live (1/4) Anna Chait paperheart@webtv.net Rating: PG-13 (language) Category: V, R, H, A (mostly MSR) Spoilers: Momento Mori Keywords: MSR Summary: Life with Mulder as a partner is unpredictable; but the man himself s predictable else. While reading an old favorite book, Scully comes to some startling realizations about life and love. Will Mulder act predictably? Response to a Fanfic challenge. PLEASE POST TO GOSSAMER, AND ANY OTHER ARCHIVE OR MAILING LIST. Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are not my creations. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox. The poem quoted at the beginning is by Thorsten Kaye, no copyright infringement is intended. Author's Note: Several months ago I read a challenge from someone in one of the mailing lists I subscribe to. I wish now I knew who that was. I'd like to thank that person. The challenge was to write a story incorporating a book that Scully might be reading (I think that was it). I can think of plenty of things she might read, but I'd have to read them as well, so I decided instead to go with something I already know and love. I have liberally used characters and quotes from Charlotte Bronte's "Jane Eyre" throughout this story. I had a wonderful time visiting with Jane, she and I are old friends. Thank-you to whoever put this thought in my head. Feedback is like chocolate - you can never get enough. paperheart@webtv.net This story is dedicated to Thorsten Kaye, a wonderful actor and an inspiring poet. I will be sorry to see him leave my TV. **************************** While We Live, Let us Live (1/4) by Anna Chait "28" I give you my death Willingly on this day that will accept nothing less For life is a dream And our rousing bound by time Or everlasting Love Thorsten Kaye She dropped her suitcase into the trunk of the car and waited for him to do the same. They moved together without talking, comfortably going through the motions that would get them into the beltway traffic and to the airport on time. After the years of partnership, dozens of out-of-town cases, and too many airports to remember, the motions were rote. In her head she made bets with herself what his next move would be. After the seatbelt, he would lean his head back against the headrest and inhale deeply, exhale slowly, then wait for her to start her car. If she drove he was always tapping his foot on the floor. If he drove he would rap his thumb on the steering wheel. He was predictable. Not annoyingly so, but predictable just the same. Actually, it took the guesswork out of the partnership and freed their minds to concentrate on their cases. They were comfortable patterns developed over the years, and they worked. After checking in at the counter, they sat, waiting for the flight to be announced. Scully reached into her bag to discover she had left the book she was reading at home. "Damn.." she muttered, checking all the outside pockets of her luggage. "What?" "I left my book. I. just anticipate a lot of waiting around today, and I had a book out to bring. I must have left it." Mulder looked around, scanning the halls of the portion of the airport he could see. His gaze eventually fell on the thing they sought. "There's a newsstand and bookstore over there. Why don't you go pick something out. We have time." Glancing at her watch, she nodded and headed for the bookstore. Her hand lightly skimmed over the shelves of books, taking in their titles. She had been reading a horror story that wasn't all that good, but she wanted to finish it anyway. Her eyes fell to a copy of Charlotte Bronte's classic, Jane Eyre. As a young girl it had been her favorite book. She pulled it from the stacks and fingered it fondly, flipping through the pages and briefly scanning the print. It had been years. Perhaps it was time to reacquaint herself with Jane. Remembering the enjoyment she took in the story, she smiled to herself and paid for the book. She slipped the paper bag into the outside pocket of her carryall and settled into her seat. "Find something interesting?" Mulder asked. "Yes, I did. An old friend." she responded, smiling to herself. ************************ Half an hour later they were airborne and settled in their seats for the long flight. Anxious to begin, she pulled the new paperback from her pocket and opened the cover. This copy came with an extensive forward and a set of study notes in the beginning. She began to read what others had to say about one of the true classics of English literature. The characters came back to her with a startling familiarity; Mrs. Fairfax the housekeeper; Grace Poole, the mysterious lady in the attic, the quiet and unassuming heroine Jane Eyre, and Mr. Edward Rochester, dark and brooding. "What is it that you're so interested in?" she heard a voice beside her. Mulder lifted the cover and commented, "Jane Eyre? I'm surprised, Scully." "About what?" "It's been a while, but as I recall the hero in that story tried to pull a fast one on Jane." "Well, yes. That's true." He stared at her for a moment. Jane Eyre was considered to be a great romance, a story of true love prevailing. He'd never thought about Scully being a romantic. This was a side of her he was unfamiliar with. He waited for her to continue, but she didn't. Curious. That was clearly an opening for her, yet she failed to jump in. Come on, Scully. The ball is in your court. It was true, she thought to herself returning to the story. Edward did try to get Jane to marry him even though his first wife was still alive. But to her way of thinking that wasn't the focus of the story. What she had always enjoyed most about it was that it reinforced her belief in a soulmate. Edward Rochester and Jane Eyre found each other because their souls connected. There were many obstacles to their love; their ages, background and most importantly their stations. He was a full twenty years her senior. Their upbringings had been so totally different. But the most serious hurdle was their positions in society. Edward was the master of a large fortune and estate, a very wealthy, influential, and powerful man. Jane Eyre was an orphan, an outcast in her own family, given over to a charitable institution by a hateful aunt. But she had a good education and had managed to become a teacher and obtain a job outside of the school. There were parallels between that story and herself...and Mulder. There was a soul connection between them. There were also some serious philosophical differences, but that emotional bond drew them together like Jane and Edward. The most interesting thing about Jane was that she yearned for things that women of her day hardly dared to verbalize. She longed to be free to travel, and be independent and know the world beyond the limited confines of her life. She felt stifled by the rigid code of conduct for Victorian ladies. She knew she would never make a clever marriage, but she desired love. Above all else besides duty, she sought love. A woman before her time. As an adult Scully could now identify with the feelings she shared with Jane of living in a "man's world." Yes, things had changed for women, but the FBI was still a "boy's club." Would it always be this way for women? Would they always have to fight, go against the tide of male thinking? She quickly read through the beginning, through Jane's days at Lowood Institution and on to her advertising for a position as a teacher or governess. Several chapters in she ran across a poem, and was struck by the sweet-sadness of it's lament. "My feet are sore, and my limbs they are weary; Long is the way, and the mountains are wild; Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary Over the path of the poor orphan child. "Why did they send me so far and so lonely, Up where the moors spread and gray rocks are piled? Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels only Watch'd o'er the steps of a poor orphan child. "Yet distant and soft the night-breeze is blowing, Clouds there are none, and clear stars beam mild; God, in His mercy, protection is showing, Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child. "Ev'n should I fall o'er the broken bridge passing, Or stray in the marshes, by false lights beguiled, Still will my Father, with promise and blessing, Take to His bosom the poor orphan child. "There is a thought that for strength should avail me, Though both of shelter and kindred despoiled; Heaven is a home, and rest will not fail me; God is a friend to the poor orphan child." The words on the page reached out to her, bringing tears to her eyes. Somehow it spoke to her of both herself and her partner. She had often seen him "heart-weary and soul-withered." Many things in his life had left him alone; it was no stretch for her to see him as the poor orphan child; or would be when she was gone. She prayed that God would be his friend. Perhaps he he already was, and Mulder just couldn't see it. End of part 1 / 4 ************************* While We Live, Let us Live (2/4) The seatbelt light went on and Mulder returned to his seat on the aisle beside her, buckling himself in. On long flights if there were empty seats he would find one to stretch out in. She was glad today that he had done so, and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and hoped he didn't see them. "Scully....are you all right? " Since the discovery of her cancer he worried about her a lot. He tried not to let her know, but he worried just the same. She'd been so quiet today and she'd had her head buried in that book that he'd decided to find a place to take a nap. She turned and looked at him, weary and a bit puzzled. "Now what made you ask me that?" His eyes held hers as he responded, hoping to catch a clue to her mood today. "You've been kind of quiet." He said, lamely biting his lower lip waiting for her to say something. A shadow of a smile flickered across her face. He was a good friend. His instincts about her moods had served him well on many occasions. Sometimes he regretted having noticed and asked, but more often than not his interest seemed to make whatever was bothering her feel less of a problem. She was grateful to have Mulder in her life. Grateful that at two in the morning if she couldn't sleep she knew who to call. Grateful that if she wanted to unburden herself about something she knew he would listen and care. Not that she did that much. She had a bad habit of not talking about anything too personal. "I'm fine, Mulder." She saw him roll his eyes. She knew how that response annoyed him. Sometimes she did it just to annoy him. But not today. "Really. I feel fine. I just wanted to get a good start on this book. I haven't read it in a long time. It was one of my favorites when I was a girl." Right. She's got those dark circles under her eyes, and she's walking a bit slower. Mulder thought she sounded a bit wistful about that when I was a girl part. Suddenly he knew. What was left unsaid was that she thought there would be more time. She wanted to read the book again because who knew if she would ever get another chance. She seemed to be making contact with many things from her past lately. He had noticed how family photo albums littered the tops of the tables of her house these days. Old books and favorite movies. Sometimes they got together for a movie night, and more often than not she picked the movie. Lately her choices had run to old Cary Grant movies, and classics she said she hadn't seen in years. The possible loss of Scully was a physical pain to him now. A deep ache just under his breastbone that never went away. He couldn't lose her, he just couldn't. Somehow together they would find a way. Other things in his life were bearable, but not this. His character had been shaped by loss, honed against the disappearance of his sister and the pain caused by his family life. But this loss would be the last and most difficult. Because he loved her more than he thought possible, beyond anything he'd ever felt before, this loss might destroy him. As the plane began to make it's dissent he reached for her hand on the armrest between them. She looked down at his hand covering hers; strong hands. Hands that she had seen reach out to others in pain-victims and families, trying to offer comfort in his own endearing way. Long fingers on strong hands, hands that could hurt or heal her. Then she looked up at his face. With his head back and eyes closed, she saw that look; the one she recognized as saying "I know what's going on but I'm not going to make you talk about it." She smiled and followed his lead, put her head back and closed her eyes. Yes, he was a good friend. Sometimes though, she longed for more than a friend. Sometimes she wanted....that was it; she wanted. She thought there would be more time for all the things she wanted. When she first learned about the cancer, she wanted to be left alone about it. She needed to think about things and put them in perspective. Putting her "ducks in a row" had taken her some time. But when she had found a way to deal with it, a way to think about the situation, she realized something. She wanted someone to hold her. She needed to be held, to have someone to hold on to her and someone to hold. Maybe somehow that person could keep her safe, keep her from disappearing. What had started out as a passing thought had grown into a gnawing ache inside. And if she had to choose the someone to hold her? There was no choice to be made, no balancing the good points and pleasing personality traits of one man against the other. There was only one man she ever wanted in her life. It had to be Mulder. Don't kid yourself, Dana Scully. It's not the first time you've thought about you and your partner like that. And not just since the big "C" became a factor in your life. The cancer had only made it more clear that life is a crap shoot; you never know how much you'll get, whether tomorrow will be there for you. If you don't live each day as though it might be your last, you are a fool, Dana. In her dreams she saw strong forces pulling their bodies close; as if magnetized, their mouths met and explored. Would it really be like that? Sometimes in the office her fingertips itched to reach out and walk their way through his hair, or dance across his shoulder, over his crisp white shirts. As the force of the plane's landing pinned her against her seat, her eyes flew open and the clear light of reason claimed her. All that crap about partners not getting involved, was just that. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered any more, except the rest of her life. It was as Jane said, "as if both had passed through the grave to stand at God's feet, equal, as they were." All things being equal, they shared many things, the most important being loss. They were experts now at loss; he'd just been at it longer than she had. She had to crowd the years she would miss into the time she had left. She wouldn't live the rest of her life like Jane Eyre, hoping for the best, doing the right thing in society's eyes. She had a right to be happy, and she needed it. She needed her soulmate and she need look no further the seat next to hers. In the final analysis, she needed Fox Mulder. And she wouldn't wait any longer to tell him. She looked down at his hand still clutching hers, then reached over with her other hand and covered his. He turned to her suddenly, to find her smiling like a fool at him. What could that mean? Before the questions in his mind could take form as speech, the plane stopped. People began to stir around them as they exchanged smiles. "What?" he asked, knowing something had happened here, but not sure what. "Later, Mulder. We'll talk later, I promise." There was something about her body language that was different. Something about Scully had changed since they got on the plane. Something important had happened and he had missed it completely. Damn! As they went through the airport to the car rental agency, Mulder ran over their day so far, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. Was it his imagination working overtime again? Her brilliant mind and luscious body had fueled a rich fantasy life for him over the years. It was a game they played, his innuendoes and her denials. Thrust and parry, he teased and she scolded. It didn't escape his notice that on the way to the hotel she hardly took her eyes off him. Was it also his imagination that she was sitting closer than usual? Why were her eyes all soft and misty like that? Oh, God, I hope she's not going to die....stop it Mulder. You idiot. Positive thinking is required here. ************ Their rooms had a connecting door, as they preferred. It had always allowed them togetherness to work, and privacy when the work was finished. They had agreed to check in with the local police on the kidnapping case they had come to investigate. They were expected to devote as much time as necessary to this case. Scully had not even wanted to be involved on this one. Several teenage girls had been kidnapped and killed, and there were satanic overtones to the crime scenes. Mulder and Scully had gone around and around many times before about Satanic cults and rituals. It wasn't something she liked to do, and it usually caused extra tension between them. They spent several hours with the local detective assigned to the case gathering facts and surveying a crime scene. When it got late, Mulder suggested they stop and pick it up in the morning. He knew how easily Scully tired. But today, she seemed pulled together; calm and relaxed. What was with her today? "So, what shall we have for dinner? Take-out?" "You know, it's been a very long time since I actually went out for dinner Mulder. Why don't we find a nice restaurant and have a good meal." "You know the rules about the expense account." "Damn the expense account. This one is on me." He looked suspiciously at his partner. Damn the expense account? The real Dana Scully had obviously been spirited away and this was an alien clone Scully. "All right," he said, his words measured and slow. "And where would you like to go?" She leaned back in the seat and ran her hands through her hair. "Tell you what...I'd like a nice hot bath. Why don't we go back to the hotel, you ask around about a place while I bathe. What do you say, Mulder?" A real dinner, in a nice restaurant with his lovely partner OR Chinese take out....hmm, tough decision. "Deal." "Good." After a long soak, she pinned her hair up in a style she rarely wore. A style that exposed her neck. A style that she knew from past experience he liked. She managed to lighten up the severity of her usual daytime attire by rolling her skirt at the waistband a few times, making it several inches shorter and exposing more leg. She wore the cardigan of the soft wine colored sweater set she had brought along, buttoning it in the front and leaving the last 2 buttons undone. Not too daring, and certainly not obvious. But different. She wore her usual understated jewelry, tiny gold hoops in her ears, her gold cross on a thin chain. But she added perfume. A liberal dose of something she hoped he would like. Well, she said to herself as she gazed into the mirror. It's the best I can do with what I brought. It will do. There was a knock on the door connecting their rooms. "Come in Mulder." The door opened a crack and he stuck his head in. "You decent?" She laughed. "What if I wasn't?" "That's what I always hope for. Scully......You look different." He hoped he hadn't sounded shocked. She smiled at him. "Well, if that's your attempt at a compliment Agent Mulder, we need to talk." She looks....sexy. She looks like she's out to seduce someone. And she smells good. Yep, she's dressed for seduction. Wonder what she's up to? Maybe she's decided this is the night for payback. All those innuendoes, all the teasing and bantering. She could try. "You look lovely, Agent Scully. How's that?" he said, his fingers reaching to touch a stray lock of hair, letting it fall through his fingers absently, his eyes never leaving hers. She sighed, audibly, picked up her raincoat and her purse and breezed past him to the door of her room. "All right for starters." And what do you suppose that meant? Lost in his musings, he failed to notice her waiting at the door, but the scent of her perfume hit him first in the head, then his solar plexus. Yep, she's up to something. "You coming, Mulder?" He shook his head and made his way to the door. It was going to be an interesting evening. Very interesting. End of part 2 / 4 While We Live, Let us Live (3/4) ************************* Had she always had legs like that? He couldn't take his eyes from her legs as she walked ahead of him to their table at the Provence Cafe, a charming French bistro recommended to him by a woman at the ice machine. He held her chair, just as he always did. But this time, she turned her head and smiled up at him causing a not unpleasant tightening throughout his entire body. He straightened his tie, cleared his throat, and took his seat. She ordered Coq au vin and a glass of burgundy. He wanted a cheeseburger, but ordered the chicken as well. It was good, but better than dinner was the way she watched him over the rim of her glass, and they way she ever-so-slowly dragged her teeth over her fork as she ate. If she didn't stop soon, turn down the heat a few notches, he would be in trouble. And then the music started. She turned to see where the music was coming from, giving Mulder the most dazzling view of the tendons that ran from behind her ear to her clavicle. From there it was only a short drop of the eyes to where the buttons of her sweater began. Almost in slow motion, she turned her head back to him, smiling. She raised her eyebrows, tipped her head and motioned in the direction of the small quartet. There was a question on her face. What was the question? She looked quickly at the band, then back at him. Oh....she wanted to dance. "Dance, Scully?" She nodded and stood, smoothing her skirt over her thighs. Down, Mulder. Down boy. Get a grip. It was at this moment that he broke into a sweat. On the dance floor she slipped into his arms as though she'd done it a million times. The music was slow and seductive and as it wore on, she moved closer and closer. His arms slowly pulled her to him and she rested her cheek against his shoulder. Only in his fevered dreams had he dared to think this would have been possible. He tipped his head and rested his cheek against her silky soft hair and slowly inhaled, then closed his eyes and took full advantage of the seductive rhythm of the music. There, she thought. He's holding me. And it feels so right. For a long while they just moved slowly back and forth. It seemed to her they had done this before and she wanted to do it again. She breathed in the unique essence that was Fox Mulder - spicy and crisp. She noted with pleasure the way his body moved as they danced; the motion of his hips side to side, occasionally forward and back. Elegant and graceful. He's a good dancer. "Scully?" he whispered, his voice almost undetectable, his breath ruffling the hair near her ear, causing a little shiver to run up her spine. "What is it, Mulder?" she asked, snuggling closer to his body, slightly annoyed that he was talking, interrupting her enjoyment of this moment. "I need to ask you something." "OK. What?" "Exactly what is going on here tonight?" She smiled into his suit jacket. Finally. A window. "Has it been so long that you've forgotten? Don't you recognize when a woman is putting the moves on you?" "Moves? Are you all right? Do you have a fever?" he asked, moving away from her to look at her face. He needed to know if she was indulging in the payback he admittedly deserved or if she was even the least bit serious. "Perhaps I do, but not like you think. Come on, Mulder, let's get out of here." She disengaged herself from his embrace and took his hand, trying to lead him off the dance floor. "I'm not sure I want to leave. If I were to take a blood sample from you it wouldn't turn out to be green fizzy stuff, would it?" She laughed. "No, I am not a clone. And you are perfectly safe. I promise I won't hurt you." Much, she thought. ************************* It was a chilly night, and a breeze blew off lake Michigan to cool Mulder's imagination. She walked with him to a bench and sat. Scully was bundled into her nearly ankle length winter wool coat. Instinctively, he pulled the lapels of her coat closer together, looped her scarf around her neck then pulled her body closer to his. And the interesting thing was, she let him do it. "I know I've been acting strangely all day. It's just that when you finally have the truth revealed to you, you think that everyone can see it; it's so clear to you but not everyone else." "The truth?" he asked, the apprehension clear in his voice. "Since I was diagnosed with this evil thing in my head my life has been hell. I closed myself up and off from everyone, especially you. You know me too well. I didn't want you to know how frightened I was. I didn't want to burden you with my emotions, you have enough on your plate. But now I see that I'm wasting time. I have to live every moment of the time I have left, or I'm just killing time." He pulled her a bit closer. He knew she was afraid. He could only imagine what she had been going through since she had refused to share it with him. "Oh, Scully." He sighed. "And I know you are strong, but I don't know if you're strong enough for this. It scares me, I worry about what will happen to you when...when I'm gone." The absolute truth was that he worried about that himself. But he wasn't prepared to give up just yet, and he was surprised that she was. "But you're not gone yet. Don't worry about me. Let me worry about that." "But see, I do worry about it." Abruptly, she stopped. None of this was what she wanted to say. It was only an explanation as to why she had kept it to herself. "I hope that you'll understand my reasons for waiting until now. It just never seemed the right time, and now time is so short." He turned and gripped her by the shoulders. "What are you trying to tell me. Has your condition gotten worse?" His grip on her arms was painful, even through the layers of wool. She reached up to touch his face. His skin was warm to her touch. "No, it hasn't. Such a wonderful, expressive face. You know, you are an incredibly handsome man Fox Mulder. How come some woman hasn't laid claim to you yet?" He exhaled, exasperated. "Some woman has laid claim to me. She apparently doesn't realize it though." Her fingers trailed over his lower lip several times before his hand reached up to still them. Their eyes locked for several seconds and a spark of realization glimmered in his eyes. He released her hand. She slipped her fingers into the short, silky hair just over his ear and pulled his head forward, slowly tilting her head, leading with her lips. When there was only a warm breath between them, she whispered, "She does realize it." Scully leaned into his body and moaned against his lips. It briefly passed through Mulder's mind that he would be waking up soon, waking from yet another dream of his lovely partner. But his dreams had never felt quite this good. It would have taken a crowbar to get them apart at this point. Their mouths seemed to blend so perfectly together. For so many years he had dreamed and thought of her in his arms this way, how she would feel and respond. What her hands on his body would feel like. And now here was his beautiful partner kissing him and moaning in a very suggestive way. "Wait, Mulder..." she said, breathless. She drew away, then fell forward resting her forehead on his chest and trying to regain her composure. "There are things I need to say to you." His mind was suddenly snapped back into his body and he realized that she was sitting in his lap. There were now several things that couldn't be kept hidden anymore. The pleasant tightening of every muscle in his body was now an insistent hardening. He had to either slow down and back away or he'd embarrass himself for certain. He slipped his hands underneath her knees and quickly moved her back to the bench beside him. Funny, he didn't remember her getting into his lap. All he could remember was her mouth on his mouth, the taste of her and how she felt. Her flushed face and bright eyes. "I want you to know how much I love you. So many times I've wanted to tell you. But there was never a right time. I wanted everything to be perfect. I also wasn't really sure how you would feel about it." He laughed out loud. "You're kidding, right? And I thought I had proven myself to be a world class letch." "Oh, you've proven that. But that's not what I wanted. I want more from you than one night, and maybe that's why I held back." "I guess my track record isn't that great is it?" he conceded, sheepishly. "Well...I just need more than that." "I know you do, and so do I. I want it all from you. I love you too, Scully. I always have. I was hoping that you already knew that." his voice lowered, almost to a whisper and his arm snaked out to draw her close. "You know, you're not going to be able to throw me back. I'm going to be stuck to you like glue. You know how I am when I'm obsessed with something." He stopped. He knew there was more she needed to say because she wouldn't take her eyes from her hands folded nervously in her lap. "What else, Dana?" "I need to know that you're going to be OK. Just because I want it so much doesn't mean it's going to happen." "What are you talking about?" he asked, dipping his head trying to catch her eye. "You know, if I die...." His head snapped up and he expelled an exasperated breath. "You mean you want me to promise that if you die I won't fall apart? I can't make that promise, and I don't even want to think about it. And I don't know how you can either. You want me to make love to you and not think about what it will be like when you're gone? How much I'm going to miss you? No, I can't promise you anything like that and if that's what you need, you might as well back off now." He tried to pull away, but she grabbed his hands and pulled them to her chest to make him stay. They traded glances again and now she could see the agony he usually kept so carefully hidden displayed in his eyes. "You see I know how it will feel. I've already felt it. When you were gone for those three months...I barely recall the things I did. I walked around like a zombie. I did crazy dangerous things, hoping I'd die..." he managed to choke out. "See, that's the thing. You acted rashly. You did dangerous things. It worries me." "But you know why, don't you? I felt responsible for what happened to you. And now it's the same thing. Out of that experience came this cancer. It's still all my fault." "You know what? I don't think any of that is true. We don't know all of the reasons behind why I was taken and what happened to me. Maybe we never will. But know this, Fox Mulder, I do not blame you. I know that if there were some way you could take my place you would." "You're right. I would." He said, his voice breaking from the tension of trying to hold back the tears. It was too much for him and he broke down, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. This time it was Scully who enfolded her partner into her arms, smoothing his hair back over his ears and whispering soothing things to him, that it was going to be okay. Suddenly it was too cold to be out in the night. She began to shiver and silently they stood up and went to the car. Back at the hotel he ordered hot tea from room service and waited while she changed into warmer clothes. She climbed into her bed and he put the tea down on the bedside table. When he looked at her, he saw the fresh scrubbed face of the woman he loved, and noticed the dark circles she usually covered with makeup. She looked worn out. It had been a long day. He waited while she drank her tea, making pleasant noises as the hot liquid warmed her from inside. When she was finished, she snuggled into the pillows and put one arm behind her head, watching her handsome partner. "I have another question for you, Scully. What made you come to this decision? Was it that book you were reading." She smiled sleepily. "Good catch, Mulder. Partly. It wasn't the plot of the book so much as the characters. There was a very deep connection, a "deep chord of communion" as Edward would have said. They seemed to belong together from the beginning and yet so many things stood between them and their happiness." He smiled. "I guess keeping your nut-job first wife locked in the attic isn't the way to go, huh?" "No, and he tried so hard to make Jane fall in love with him. When she realized it wasn't going to be...well it made the disappointment all the worse." She stopped and reached up to touch his face, her fingers encountering a day's worth of stubble. "Anyway, I was thinking about how things happened; one day the world is good and beautiful, your dreams may come true; and the next it's crashing down around you. It's very fragile and there is no time to waste, not for any of us." He took her hand, and entwined her fingers in his before bending to kiss her knuckles. God, he loved this woman beyond reason. And if someone like Dana Scully - brilliant, talented, beautiful Dr. Dana Scully - loved him, maybe there was hope for him after all. "I'm sorry Mulder. This evening didn't turn out like I wanted it to. I had this whole seduction thing going. I wanted so much more." He smiled at her and dropped a moist kiss on her delectable mouth. "I know you did, and you had me. I was going up in flames when we were dancing. It's been a big day. We'll pick it up another night, I promise you that. Now, go to sleep. You need a good night's rest." He turned his upper body away to leave when she grabbed his shirt front, making him stay. "You know, I'd sleep better if you were here with me." "You're tired Scully. I'm not a complete bastard, you know." "No...." she said. Funny, he usually knew what she was thinking and now he couldn't make heads or tails of her. "You're not a bastard at all, and I love you for it. I'm talking sleeping here, Mulder. If you were to change and get more comfortable and get into this bed with me, I would appreciate it. I've been dreaming about falling asleep in your arms for so long. Indulge me... just this once." He smiled, wickedly. "Oh, Agent Scully, it is my intention to indulge you in your every wicked little whim for a long time to come." It hit him hard, her wanting to be held. She had always been so reserved, so professional with him. They were close, but not tactile. After quickly changing into sweatpants and a clean T- shirt, he slid into the bed with her. At first she was turned away from him, but it seemed she wasn't comfortable with that. She turned in his arms and rested her cheek against his chest, her arms folded between their bodies. She murmured sleepily something about his heartbeat and closed her eyes. From her even breathing he surmised she was asleep. For the first time in years, Fox Mulder was completely and utterly euphoric, an emotion that had never occurred to him to have before. But it was a peaceful euphoria. Thinking back over the day, he happily thanked the darkness for putting this incredible woman in his life. Now if he only had the good sense not to screw it up. End of part 3 / 4 While We Live, Let us Live (4/4) **************************** Scully woke to the sounds of whistling in the darkness. She stretched her body out completely, enjoying the snapping of bones and tendons, then opened her eyes and smiled at the ceiling. Last night had been wonderful; she had slept so well cocooned safely in Mulder's arms. She giggled happily, and rolled over, burying her face in the pillow to encounter the familiar smell of her partner comingling with her own. She sighed, wishing for another type of comingling. Soon, Mulder. She heard him enter the room and open the heavy drapes, revealing the bright mid-winter sunlight. She felt the bed dip as Mulder sat. "Good Morning." He said, placing a hand on her hip and getting her to roll over. She sat, drew her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. She smiled sleepily at him before responding. He looked wonderful; clean shaven and smelling divine, having already showered and dressed. Partially dressed anyway. He wore his usual pleated black trousers that hung low on his hips, and his crisp white shirt was not yet buttoned, revealing to her his chest. Unable to resist, she reached out and ran her hand up his chest to his neck, marveling at the crisp little hairs she encountered. "Good Morning. What time is it?" He leaned forward and kissed her slowly, unable to resist that dazzling smile, a smile he now recognized as one she saved only for him. Not to mention that hand that had traveled the length of his torso. He removed her hand, and kissed her palm. It would be better if she didn't have her hands on him this morning, they'd never make it to their appointment on time. "A little after eight. Did you sleep well?" "Yes I did. Better than I have in a long while. You?" "Never better. I ordered breakfast and you should probably get moving. I checked in with the detective we worked with yesterday and they have set up an autopsy for you this morning." "Another victim?" she said, removing herself from the warmth of her bed, absently slipping into her Agent Scully voice and demeanor. She pulled some clean underclothes from her suitcase and headed for the bathroom. "Yes. Last night." He said, sadly watching her walk away. It would be a long day for them. This case threatened to drag on and on. It would be a while before he collected on Scully's seduction raincheck and he knew it. "Scully?" She turned in the doorway of the bathroom to look at him, noting the disappointment on his face. She was sorry about that. Perhaps she could have picked her moment a little better. But the words had been said, the groundwork had been laid. "Soon, huh?" His eyes...those eyes. Like a big old cuddly puppy. And she was irresistibly drawn to him, unable to keep from going to him. She insinuated herself into his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck. His hair was still wet from his own shower and it waved away from his eyes. Scully ran her hand across his forehead, then down his cheek. He closed his eyes, reveling in her touch. His hand covered hers, and his mouth moved into her palm to kiss it. "Very soon, Mulder. When this case is over, all right? In my bed, in my home." "Deal. Now go get showered." She went into the bathroom and closed the door quietly. She was just beginning to undress, when something in the shower caught her eye. She threw back the curtain to see a bouquet of beautiful red roses in a vase standing oddly in the middle of the shower. She laughed, and bent to retrieve the card and read in his familiar scrawl - God pardon me, and man meddle not with me; I have her and will hold her. Make my happiness - and I will make yours. FM These were the words of Edward Rochester's - words said aloud to whomever might be listening; God or any man who might try to keep them apart. She laughed out loud and clutched the note to her chest. Now that was completely unpredictable! She jerked the door open to go and find him and ran headlong into the solid wall of his chest. He stood there, his shirt still unbuttoned, his arms braced in the door frame and looking totally pleased with himself "Surprised?" he asked her. She smiled at him and thumped his chest. "Mulder, you're nuts. Just when I think I have you figured out you go and do something unpredictable." "A man in love often does crazy things." He said, pursing his lips out for the kiss he expected. She didn't disappoint him, and holding his head in her hands, kissed his mouth, then both cheeks and his forehead. "The roses are beautiful, Mulder. Thank-you. And I recognize the quotes from Jane Eyre. Is that what you were doing while I was asleep?" "Nope. While you were asleep, I was dreaming about making love to you...again." "Soon, Mulder. Very soon." She kissed him again before shutting the door. "Scully,...." he said, putting his arm in the door to keep it from closing. "Yes?" "You remember the other day when you bought that book? What was the book you left at home?" She laughed. "Something I always meant to read, something that might appeal to you, actually. It was Stephen King...the Dead Zone." "Oh, isn't that Interesting. A book about a man in a coma for seven years who comes out of it to find his fianc‚ has married another man and that he has developed a precognitive power that ruins his life." He had read it. It disturbed him that that was what she was reading. But he was glad she had left it at home that day. Bronte had fueled her dissatisfaction with the way things were and moved her to make a change. God bless Charlotte Bronte. "Good thing you weren't reading the Shining or Salems Lot. I could have ended up with a stake in my heart, huh?" She turned her eyes to the ceiling and crossed her arms as if considering him with a stake in his heart. "Scully!" he screamed, his hands crossed over his heart, appearing to be mortally wounded. She looked at him and shook her head vigorously. "Nahh!" He expelled his breath, obviously relieved. "Then you'd be an X-file," she said with a wicked wink "and I'll be needing you later." Promise me, Scully. Please need me, he thought to himself as the door closed slowly in is face. Inside, she closed her eyes and leaned against the door that stood between them. And that was all that stood between them. A door. Perhaps there would be time, she thought. Time for them to be in love, and be crazy unpredictable lovers. Maybe things would be all right, and if they weren't maybe it would end the way it was meant to. Regardless of the outcome, she would have lived her life the way she wanted to. She would have Mulder to love her and together they would search for whatever truths were left to be found. And if she left this earth sooner than she expected, Mulder would be all right. He would grieve to be sure. He was already grieving. But his grief would eventually be replaced with the memories of the time they had together and he would be able to face a future without her because he would have the past to look back on; a past where he was well loved and loved well. In the meantime, dum vivimus vivamus. While we live, let us live. End of story *************************************** Note from the Author: The poem entitled "28" that begins this piece is a work by an actor on what used to be on my favorite soap, One Life to Live. His brilliant portrayal of an emotional poetry professor inspired me to read poetry again. I had forgotten....poetry reaches you on so many levels. He has left the program, but his essence lingers in his original poetry, for me at least. Bon chance Thorsten.