From: Laura Bontrager <lebontrager@Harding.edu>
Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 21:08:08 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: xfc: Wrapped in the Wind--Most Secret
Source: xfc

From: Laura Bontrager <lebontrager@Harding.edu>

Title: Wrapped in the Wind 4: Most Secret
Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended. Emma belongs to me, thanks.

Summary: "It wasn't like I didn't love him. He's Mulder, my partner. But
the degree of that love, the extent, the capacity to forgive in this love
was not so great as it ought to be." --Wrapped in the Wind

=-=-=-=
Most Secret
=-=-=-=

  I, too, await
The hour of thy great wind of love and hate.
When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows,
Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose?

--WB Yeats, :The Secret Rose:

=-=-=-=

Shooting stars were my favorite things about our nights. It would be so
dark and so deep in the sky, with the blackness let up by just the small
pinpricks of stars, the moon covered by the greyish clouds. We liked to
lay on the patio out back of our first floor apartment and watch the
stillness.

Shooting stars. Sometimes we saw four or five in an hour. Sometimes none
at all. Emma liked to giggle at the flicker of the candle we lit to keep
the flies and mosquitos away. She liked to crane her head back, imitating
us, and clap her hands at the sky, the pillows we dragged out here framing
her face. I think a baby's laughter is the best kind of worship. God must
adore the children.

That night, Emma was nearly asleep in the cradle made between our bodies,
her lips pursed into a bow of dreams against my shoulder. Mulder was
tracing the pattern of a satellite or UFO with his eyes and rubbing the
top of my ear with his finger. It felt smooth and relaxing and I wanted to
fall asleep, but something kept my eyes open.

"Hey, hey!" Mulder said suddenly, and I turned my head to see where he
pointed.

A shooting star was bursting across the sky, bright and fast and fiery. I
watched in amazement and sighed, smiling.

"Beautiful," Mulder whispered and I turned my head.

He was watching me intently, and I blushed, unused to his scrutiny.

"Emma's asleep," I said back, looking to the baby between us.

Mulder sighed and turned to the sky and I knew there was something I had
missed, something he had wanted from me. Chewing my lip, I looked back at
the stars, trying to understand just what had happened. I had pulled back
from him, yes, but I was somewhat tired of Mulder trying to convince me
that he loved me. I knew it, couldn't he be content in that knowledge?

It was late September and still warm; Emma's first birthday had come and
gone; my family had adored her and Mulder both; things were settling down.
We had a case starting in a week, with some nutty sightings and abductions
in Earl, North Carolina, but we weren't gone that much. It was just
starting to be right with us, starting to work out.

Something seemed missing, or off, or unfigured out. I didn't understand
it, but Mulder was different and I was different and we had Emma and the
X-Files to work with. Maybe that was why he had sighed at me--searching
for that lost something. For that shooting star to illuminate our night.

I reached over Emma and caressed my fingers down his arm, waiting for him
to turn and look at me. When he did, his eyes were darker than the sky and
I felt a shiver chill me. I didn't know what to say or how to say what I
needed him to hear, so I just watched him and touched his arm and hoped
he could read my eyes.

After a long moment of us just looking at each other, Mulder took my hand
and squeezed it. We turned back to the sky and continued the gazing in
silence, ignoring the chasm that had been built up between us--a dark sky
of baby and work and silences.
=-=-=-=

"Brr," he shivered, clutching my waist. "Your toes are freezing."

I dragged my feet along his calves in response, feeling goose bumps rise
on his skin. I smiled in the darkness and felt his arms come around me,
large and dwarfing. He choked me on a hug and chuckled at his revenge. I
twisted until my feet were away from him and his arms weren't suffocating
me anymore.

"It looked like tonight was the last night for our stars," I said,
changing the subject.

Mulder pulled me back into his arms and tucked my head and body so tightly
against him that I knew I'd wake up hot and sweating in the middle of the
night, no matter how nice it was now. Maybe though, I was too rational all
the time. Maybe I should just be willing to enjoy the now and forget the
future.

"Yeah. It was rather cold out there tonight even."

"I should have gotten Emma a blanket. She gets those ear infections so
easily."

"I think she'll be okay, Scully."

He sounded so put out by me that I hunkered further into his embrace and
pushed back against him, seeking that warmth he offered with his body but
not his words. I didn't say anything to his remark, just wanting to sleep,
to rest for once, but Mulder sighed into my hair and I knew it wasn't
finished.

"I'm really frustrated with us, Scully," he said.

Mulder. . .can't you just shut up sometimes? Communication is great and
all, but there are some things I just don't want to know.

"Scully?"

"What are you frustrated about, Mulder?" I asked, trying to keep the sigh
from my voice.

"Sometimes I want to. . .there are just moments where I think you're
trying to run away from me."

"Run away?"

I turned in his arms to look at him, remembering Emma's birthday and our
kind-of fight. The way he had very nearly promised me he understood.
Perhaps he hadn't at all.

"Like tonight. When I said you were beautiful, you changed the subject."

Even now, Mulder saying I was beautiful brought something strange out in
me. Beautiful was a word reserved for art, for peotry and emotion and awe,
and I wasn't deserving of that, least of all from Mulder.

"Mulder, I'm not--"

"Oh yes you are, Scully. Yes you are. Do you realize what you're doing
when you say I'm wrong? You invalidate my emotions, my own judgments and
ideas on things. I say you're beautiful and I mean it, and I say that I
love you, and don't you think that I mean that too?"

"I. . .I know you mean it," I said, biting on my lower lip. "It's just. .
.not what I'm used to hearing from you, Mulder."

"Get used to it," he growled and turned over.

I felt cooler, not as trapped and not as suffocated, but I also felt
abandoned. My own fault, my own odd detachment again. But I was being
honest, and that seemed to get me in trouble. And why should it? Mulder
was the one who wanted to quietly go on not saying all those things we
knew we meant.

I socked his shoulder and pushed him onto his back, feeling angry.

"Don't you dare just roll over, Mulder. You started this stupid
conversation, you finish it."

He glared at me. "I just did."

"Get used to it? That's your wonderful advice, Mulder? No wonder I'm
running away from you."

I mumbled this last part, but I meant it and didn't know I was saying it
until it came out. I jumped out of the bed and grabbed my robe, but felt
too hot with anger to put it on. Mulder's grey T-shirt hung to the tops of
my thighs and I went to the drawer to fish out socks.

"Where are you going now?" Mulder said, in that tired, 'I'm through with
dealing with you' voice.

"Why do you care?" I shot back, arching my eyebrow at him as I yanked on
thick white socks. They might have been Mulder's--at that point I didn't
care. His insufferable attitude was getting on my nerves, and this honesty
policy was ruining things.

I felt a tight hand on my upper arm and turned to see Mulder glaring at
me.

"Maybe I care because I love you? But, oh, excuse me, you don't believe
me. You've never beleived me."

Did he have to be so melodramatic?

"With stunts like this, how can I ever believe you?" I said, jerking away
from him and reaching for my jeans, disregarding the underwear. I wasn't
sure where I was going, but it would be away from here. I'd take Emma with
me.

It was at that point I heard crying in the other room. Not loud, but she
was probably awakened by our shouting. Because we'd been shouting for the
last few minutes. Emma sounded afraid and I felt ashamed for breaking that
one rule of Mulder's: no fighting where Emma could hear it. Mulder knew
about the damage of parents' fights.

I slipped away from our room gratefully and felt, rather than saw, Mulder
coming behind me, his anger and heat like a storm at my back. When I
opened Emma's door, she hushed, standing upright in the crib with shiny
tears tracked by moonlight. She held her arms out for me, pouting and
shifting on her feet.

I grabbed her up, pulling her into my arms and snuggling her close.

"Hey Emma. Sorry, girl."

I kissed the top of her head and closed my eyes, smelling her and rocking
her in my arms. She wiggled around to see Mulder behind me, then settled
down, still sleepy and now content. I walked to the rocking chair and sat
down, holding Emma to my chest like a newborn.

Mulder sat down on the floor in front of me so that I had to see him, had
to meet his eyes. We looked at each other over Emma's long back and I
sighed.

"Let's just forget it, Mudler."

I was tried of having to figure things out, tired of assuring both him and
myself, tired of trying. But just looking in his eyes I knew he didn't
want to drop this, that it was important to him. Emma was moving against
me with the feel of my tension, so I purposefully closed my eyes and
leaned my head back, trying to relax.

After a few moments, I heard Mulder leave and the muscles in my body
relaxed completely. Emma was beginning to fall asleep again and I was
quickly following her, her warmth healing me. I stroked her back with my
hand, humming to her with some kind of melody but not much else. Mulder
usually sang to her, not me.

When I opened my eyes to stand, Mulder was in the doorway, watching me
with Emma. I sighed and lowered Emma back into her crib, pulling her baby
blanket to her shoulders and smoothing down her pajamas. She shifted and
sighed, but was asleep peaceefully.

Mulder's hands lighed on my shoulder and I leaned back against him,
letting him know it was over and I was not angry anymore. He bent his head
to rest his chin on my shoulder and we watched Emma sleeping, breathing in
tandem.

"Scully. . ."

Okay, maybe it wasn't over.

"Why do you run from me?"

"Mulder--"

"If I could just have some sort of understanding, it would be easier to
deal with Scully. Just something. . ."

"Mulder. I don't run from you. I deal with things differently. I like to
stop and think about things."

He was shiting back, away from me again, and I frowned.

"So when I say, you're beautiful, you have to stop and think?"

"I have to remember."

"What? Remember what?"

I shrugged and licked my lips nervously. "That you really mean it. And
that makes me nervous."

"Why? Why does it make you nervous?"

His voice held a desperate edge and I tugged him away from Emma's crib,
back through the hallway to the living room, remembering my own promise:
no fights in the bedroom. Althought we'd already broken that one once or
twice before.

"Like you said, Mulder. I have to get used to it."

He didn't like that answer and I had to admit, it was a lame excuse for
the mixed up feelings inside me. I didn't know how to begin telling him
the range of things that went through me when he said things like that, at
least, not without hurting him somewhat.

Mulder sat down heavily in the couch and I placed myself gingerly next to
him, poised on the edge of the cushions as if waiting to run back into our
room. He reached out and took my hand, smoothing his figners down my skin.
I relaxed and leaned back, touching his shoulder with mine.

"I don't think that's it, Scully."

I frowned.

"I think you're afraid of this, and that's okay. But if you don't tell me
why, why you're afraid, this isn't going to work."

"What do you mean?" I whispered, turning to face him. My fear was a very
tangible, vibrant thing.

"My parents' marriage failed because they never talked. My mom withdrew
into herself and my father spoke with alcohol. We're not going to let that
happen. So you're going to have to talk to me tonight."

"Tonight."

He nodded, trying to be semi-humorous to keep me from being totally on
edge. I knew how that worked, and yet it still made me more comfortable.

"So maybe I am afraid," I admited and looked down at our joined hands.

"Of me?"

"Somewhat. And me. And all of this."

He noded. "I'll tell you a secret Scully."

I turned to see his face again.

"I'm a little afraid too."

I smiled softly at him, at the genuine mix of love and amusement in his
eyes. It was refreshing to see and rejuvenating to feel.

I curled my feet under me and leaned against Mulder's shoulder, knowing
that this was the extent to which I knew my feelings really, and that
there was nothing more I could tell him. Even if I wanted to.

"I'm afraid that I'll wake up one morning and you'll be gone. You'll
finally come to your senses and leave me, Scully. That's what I'm afraid
of."

I startled at his words, confused and hurt and just a bit more frightened
possibly by them. He was very serious now, and his eyes were dark with the
questions. The thing was, I knew this was in Mulder, already knew that he
had these inferiority problems and unrealistic fears. And I tried as much
as I could to banish them--I guess my efforts hadn't been good enough.

"I know what I'm doing, Mulder. And I have all my senses, thank you very
much." I leaned forward and kissed him gently. "And I still love you."

My lips were brushing against his cheek as I said this, letting Mulder
reach down and cradle the back of my head in his palm. His thumb brushed
the expanse of my cheek, his eyes gentled by awe and his lips reaching
mine for a holy kiss.

And in that thoroughly demanding kiss, I knew what I was afraid of.

He pulled away and I sucked in a breath.

"Fair's fair," I whispered and closed my eyes for a moment. "I'm afraid I
can never be all that you need me to be."

I kept my lids squeezed tightly shut, despite Mulder's soft sigh and the
touch of his fingertips along my lashes. Sliding forward, I pushed my
forehead into his chest, wanting the darkness of it for a moment longer. I
felt a kiss on the top of my head, a brush of a hot palm to my back, the
grip of his fingers through my hair.

"What can I say to that, Scully? How can I reassure you that just being
you. . .that's all I could need."

"You tell me I'm beautiful, but I know I'm not, and I know that I'm not
your type really, and I know that beauty fades. And you tell me that what
we have is different and I know that it's just love, and love fails,
and--"

He pressed his finger to my lips, but I shook him away, feeling it feeding
now, the fear and worry and insecurity, even though I didn't want to feel
it.

"You tell me these things and I know they're not true, that they'll fade,
and I can't. . .I can't be those things you want to see in me. I'm not
beautiful and I'm not perfect, and I'm not going to be able to express
everything all the time, and I'm not very good at all of this--"

Mulder clamped his hand over my mouth and I stared up at him, nearly
crying but refusing to give in to that. His grip relaxed and he leaned
down and kissed me lightly, gently, his lips like invitations. Like light
pink Valentines.

"Whatever you think, Scully, I love you. The you that tells me you're fine
when I know you're not. The you that frowns more than smiles, that can't
accept that I might be madly and completely in love with you, with all of
this, no matter if you're good at it or not. And beleive me, you're good
at it."

His eyebrows jumped and made me blush, ducking my head. But I leaned
against him, pressing my lips to his throat and sighing almost. He wrapped
his arms tight around me and I felt completely secure for the first time
in years, in long long years.

Mulder laid down and I went with him, settling down into his arms and
against the back of the couch. The smell of relief was like a tropical
forest around us, thick and moist and hinting faintly of sex and primal
things. I kissed his cheek and traced patterns aimlessly on his chest with
one finger.

"Scully?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not afraid anymore."

I smiled and sighed. "Me neither."

I opened my eyes and could just see out the living room window, out to the
stars still bright in the darkness of the cooling September night. They
were far away and glittering, like a million diamonds celebrating the
anniversaries of the ancient universe, the love between people and nature.

A shooting star chose to fall through the sky and I gasped, feeling
Mulder's arms tighten around me.

"Did you see--" I started and he was already nodding against my hair.

"Beautiful," he whispered.

I turned and he was watching me again. And I smiled because I knew I'd
always be beautiful to Mulder.
=-=-=-=

end
adios
RM