From: jenbird@earthlink.net Mon May 12 18:34:15 1997 Subject: "Us 1: The Signs of My Undoing" by Jennifer Maurer From: Jennifer Maurer <*new* email address: jenbird@earthlink.net> -------- Adam & Natasha, I finally finished my "Us" series *does a happy little dance* so here's part 1, parts 2-5 will follow, each in a separate e-mail. Thanks! --Jennifer -------- This is my VERY FIRST time posting anything, ever, so please be gentle as far as formatting goes! Where the writing's concerned, say whatever you like. Address for comments below. DISCLAIMERS: I think we know this as well as we all know the words to the theme from "Gilligan's Island," right? Mulder, Scully, Skinner and even Gerald Schnauz don't belong to me (but who'd want Jerry, anyway? Gimme DD any day hehehe...), they belong to Chris Carter, FOX, and 1013 Productions. I took them without asking, so GO AHEAD AND SUE ME! Ha, ha, just KIDDING! I don't have any assets anyway, only debt, and you're welcome to THAT. This is (hopefully) the beginning of a series inspired by Peter Gabriel's album "Us". All lyrics quoted herein are the property of Real World Music, Ltd. No infringement intended there, either. Love ya, Peter! I also included some lyrics from Alanis Morissette's album "Jagged Little Pill" because they fit, simple as that. Please don't hurt me, angry woman! RATING: Hmm...I suppose we'll say NC-17 for some racy scenes and a few bad words. Heaps of Scully-angst. Some Hallmark moments. MSR but no nooky yet. SPOILER: If you haven't seen "Unruhe," this is where you get off. The rest of us can stay on the bus. Also includes references to "Pusher," "Wetwired," "Irresistible" and Scully's sister and father. SUMMARY: Scully realizes that this case has affected her more deeply than she previously imagined. Mulder, great guy that he is, helps her deal with a rare case of the willies. LAST THING TO READ BEFORE THE STORY: Comments/praise/even flames are welcome at: <jenbird@earthlink.net>. I won't whimper and plead for feedback, I'll just cry into my pillow every night until I get some. Really, feel free to make me do the happy e-mail dance! This part is dedicated to "the *enigmatic* Dr. Scully" and to Kelli. Thanks for the help! "US/THE SIGNS OF MY UNDOING" part 01/?? by: Jennifer Maurer "I caught sight of my reflection/I caught it in the window/I saw the darkness in my heart/I saw the signs of my undoing/They had been there from the start/And the darkness still has work to do/The knotted cord's untying/At my request you take me in/In that tenderness I am floating away/No certainty, nothing to rely on/Holding still for a moment/What a moment this is/Oh for a moment of forgetting, a moment of bliss" ---Peter Gabriel, "Blood of Eden" I was awakened by a scream <Mulder, I'm in here! Mulder, help!> but I wasn't aware until I hit the floor that it came from me. I froze for a moment, breathing hard, trying to figure out what had happened. Jerry Schnauz had been coming at me with his icepick---Mulder was slamming himself against the trailer door in a futile attempt to break in---Schnauz placed a hand on my forehead, lifted my eyelid with his thumb, steadied his aim. As the shining steel point rushed towards my eye, I screamed Mulder's name again- And found myself on my own living room floor, shaken and sweaty. Another nightmare. The second one in as many nights. Last night, working on my report for this X-File, I had started to cry. A single tear escaped and rolled down my cheek as I gazed at the contorted photograph of my own terror. My mouth frozen open in a scream. My hand reaching for Mulder to help me. Six hooked claws reaching for my face. That photograph opened the floodgates and I suddenly found myself sobbing. The professional part of me was embarrassed by this outburst. I usually pride myself on my ability to stay detached and in control, the yin to Mulder's emotional, obsessive yang. In the privacy of my apartment, however, I quickly gave up my feeble attempts at self-control and cried myself to a troubled sleep. That was when the first nightmare came. Hazy, jumbled images at first: Melissa's voice calling me, her figure always disappearing around a corner as I tried to catch her. Heavy footsteps fading in and out, my father's voice: "Did you get my message, Starbuck?" Then Schnauz with the icepick, circling me strapped to his chair, explaining that all he wanted to do was help me, end my unrest. <Ich habe keine unruhe!/Yes, you do. Everybody does. But especially you.> Skinner and Mulder stood watching, nodding solemnly. I had screamed myself awake from that one, too. I stayed up the rest of the night. <They live inside your head. They make you do things and say things that you don't mean, all your good thoughts can't wish them away.> Tonight's show had cut right to the chase---all I remembered was being in that trailer, the icepick hurtling towards me, <You've got them right...HERE...don't you feel them?> ready to sink into the tender tissue of my brain. Mulder unable to reach me. In reality, of course, Mulder had burst in and killed Schnauz in the nick of time. He has a knack for that, having saved me dozens of times. His only miss was Duane Barry. Over all, an excellent average. He had wanted to comfort me after this most recent rescue, I knew, but I'd brushed past him, unable to accept his kindness. All I wanted at that point was to see the sky, be outside that damn shoebox of a trailer. Anything he might have wanted to say after that got lost in a jumble of police reports and other loose ends. I had called out sick the next day with some trepidation---I never do it, not even after my abduction or Ahab's death. I wondered what Mulder's reaction would be. In the end I wimped out and e-mailed him at 5AM when I realized I wasn't going to be a productive agent on no sleep. I gave him some lame excuse and then shuffled off to soak in a hot tub, hoping it would relax me. When I got out, my computer was beeping softly to indicate I had a reply from him: <Since you'll be home, tape Geraldo for me---it's transvestite biker day> I smiled and settled down on the couch in my bathrobe. I was too tired to move but not tired enough to really sleep, and spent the day channel surfing (it really was transvestite biker day), reading, and dozing in fits and starts. Mulder called that afternoon to check in but I let the machine pick it up. I didn't want to go out or see anybody. I had no idea how I was going to deal with tomorrow. <I'll sleep on it and see how I feel in the morning>, was my last thought. Famous last words. I gingerly rolled over and pulled myself into a sitting position, rearranging my tangled bathrobe. It wasn't a long drop from the couch where I'd fallen asleep to my living room floor, but my elbows and knees were already aching in protest. <Shit, now I'll probably get bruises and have to wear slacks for a week.> I hauled myself creakily to my feet and dropped onto the couch. Tears of exhaustion filled my eyes and before I knew it I was crying again. What was it about this case that had started me unraveling? God, I'd survived my own abduction, my sister's murder, and dozens of close calls without faltering. Why go to pieces now? I didn't want to think about this anymore. I didn't want to think at all, I just wanted some rest, but I knew that would be impossible now. With tears still trickling down my face, I got up and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. I had to get out of my apartment. I needed to see the sky, my apartment seemed too small. <Like Schnauz's trailer?> whispered a voice in my head, and that's when I grabbed my coat and keys and bolted out the door. In the elevator going down I wondered where I thought I was going at 1:30 in the morning. I paused outside the front door and looked up at the stars. The night was clear and I could make out several constellations. I sighed and descended the steps. I decided to take a walk around the block. <Not the best idea in the middle of the night, perhaps, but I am an FBI agent. I should be able to take care of myself.> And on the heels of that thought came another: <Then why do these things keep happening to me?> Mulder is the one who chases trouble, and he's gotten himself into some bad situations. With rare exceptions, however, he usually emerges from them just fine. I cover his ass with Skinner, but that's about it. The one time I really pulled his butt out of a sling, I was the one who'd gotten him into it by shooting him. I, on the other hand, seem to be a virtual magnet for death fetishists, ax- wielding cannibals, liver-sucking mutants, and God knows what else---maybe even aliens. Not to mention my astounding talent for getting bonked on the head by a wide variety of suspects. "Yup," I said out loud to myself, "I'm an FBI agent anyone would be proud to have for a partner." I kept walking, smearing the tears away with the backs of my hands, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. I was over the worst of my self-pity when I discovered I'd wandered farther from home during my wool-gathering than I'd intended. I found myself at a small elementary school a few miles away. <I'll sit on the swings awhile> I thought as I headed for the playground. I was more weary than ever and just wanted to sit down. An eerie glow came from the floodlights still illuminating the basketball court at the bottom of the hill. <Too bad Mulder's not here, we could have a little one-on-one.> After that thought, of course, I couldn't get him off my mind. I knew we would laugh about our height difference, and he'd probably hold the ball way over my head to tease me. Afterwards we'd sit on these swings and shoot the breeze, or maybe not talk at all, just enjoy a companionable silence together. The longer I ran through these scenarios, the lonelier I became. I really did want Mulder with me. I would happily accept his comfort now. More tears started flowing down my cheeks and I angrily wondered when I was going to pull myself together and stop this childish blubbering. I checked my watch. Quarter to three. <Mulder's probably awake, watching some horrible sci-fi late-late movie.> All the times he's called me in the wee hours, he won't mind. I stopped myself. <Dana Katherine Scully, get a grip and go home. You have to go to work tomorrow and you need your sleep.> The thought of facing more nightmares unnerved me. They were only dreams, true, but I didn't think I could handle another. I stifled another sob. Fuck it. I needed Mulder. I could not face being alone anymore. He was the only one I wanted to lean on now. I pushed myself up and headed for the payphone on the corner of the building. In my haste I had forgotten my cell phone. I dug in the pockets of my jeans for change. None. <I'm batting a thousand, that's for sure.> I lifted the receiver and punched 0. "Thank you for choosing Sprint, this is Marjorie, how can I help you?" "I need to make a collect call." "The number you're calling?" "202-555-0199." "And your name?" I hesitated. Mulder only used my first name when he wanted to get my attention on a personal level. It seemed appropriate now. "Dana," I quavered. "One moment, please..." His phone rang once, twice. I started trembling all over. <Why am I doing this? I could hang up and GROW up and no one would be the wiser. But I don't want to. Please be awake. Please answer.> "Yeah?" Mulder's voice was scratchy and he sounded half-asleep but not totally groggy. My spirits lifted a bit at the sound of his voice. "This is the Sprint operator with a collect call from Dana, will you accept the charges?" "Yes, yes," he answered, sounding completely awake and alert now. "Go ahead, Dana," the operator said, and clicked off. "Scully? Where are you?" "I'm, um, at a playground a few miles from home," I said in a shaky voice. "What happened? Are you okay?" I could hear the panic rising in his voice. "I'm not in danger or anything, but can you please come get me, Mulder?" "Of course. Is there a public place where you can wait for me?" "I'll be okay here. It's Overbrook Elementary school, do you know where that is?" "Yup. I'm on my way. Don't go anywhere." "I won't." We hung up and I immediately stopped crying, filled with relief. Part of me hated myself for calling and crying like a lost child, but mostly I was glad I would finally have someone to talk to about this. Someone who understood. I walked back to the swings and plopped down with a sigh, facing the opposite way so I could see the road. I started swaying back and forth gently as I watched the headlights go by, waiting for Mulder. One car swung around the corner sharply and sped up the street, and I knew it was him. He careened into the parking lot and jumped out of his car. I watched his lanky frame as he ran towards the playground with a flashlight. "Scully? Scully!" he yelled. "Over here, Mulder," I called out to him. The beam of light swung around and hit me right in the eyes. He came closer, sweeping the area around me, and I saw that he had his gun in his other hand. "Mulder, it's okay, it's nothing dangerous. Just me." He took one last look around and then holstered his gun. He knelt down in front of me and took both my cold hands in his own warm ones. I could tell by his expression that he saw the strain in my face. "Are you hurt?" he asked softly. I shook my head. "Sure?" I nodded. "God, Scully, I was so scared." "I'm sorry," I whispered. We looked at each other for a long moment, his forearms resting on my thighs as he absently stroked my hands with his thumbs. He studied my face in the dim light. "Your eyes are puffy. You've been crying." I shrugged, then nodded. He looked at me, lips pursed, and I could tell he was wondering what to make of this. I stared into his eyes, at a loss for words. I waited for him to say something. "This is not like you," he stated quietly. It wasn't an accusation, just a fact. I nodded agreement. "It's the case, isn't it? That's what's bothering you." I nodded again, my eyes beginning to water. My throat contracted with the threat of tears and I swallowed to try and get rid of the lump. Mulder noticed this and reached up to touch my cheek gently. "Dana, please tell me what's wrong." It was my first name that broke the dam. I made a choking whimper, trying to hold it in, and I saw Mulder wince in sympathy with my pain. I burst out sobbing and he gathered me gently into his arms. I leaned into him and cried for a long time, shaking. This time I couldn't make myself calm down and stop, everything came out at once: I was crying for my own unrest, all of it. Schnauz had been right when he said I had unruhe, as much as I had tried to deny it. <Yes, you do. Everybody does. But especially you.> The deaths of Melissa and my father. My abduction. All the times I'd thought I'd lost Mulder---New Mexico, the alien retro-virus that almost killed him. Falling under the influence of those subliminal signals and thinking he had turned against me. <You're one of the men who abducted me!> Watching him struggle against Modell, trying not to shoot me. <Scully...run.> I cried deep, hoarse sobs, moaning as each painful scene replayed itself in my mind. I felt myself slipping further and further out of control, with only Mulder's presence to anchor me. I sagged against him, almost too tired now to sit upright, and I threw him off balance. He shifted to sit on the ground under the swing and pulled me down with him, settling me in his lap and rocking me back and forth. Finally, I started to hyperventilate, and panicked. I pulled back and looked up into Mulder's face, gasping wordlessly, clutching his jacket. He looked back into my eyes and put his palms against my cheeks, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. With an effort I brought my breathing under control and drooped back against him, completely spent. "Feel better?" I nodded against his chest. "How about we blow this pop stand?" he asked. I nodded again, and he slid me off his lap so he could stand up. He reached for my hands and pulled me to my feet. I wrapped my arm around his waist and he circled my shoulders, squeezing me close to him. Joined together like this, we hobbled to his car. He gently deposited me in the passenger seat and walked around the front of the car to get in his side. I watched him, finally feeling some measure of peace since this whole disaster began. I was not acting like myself, but Mulder knew me better than anyone, and he would help me. We were both silent on the drive back to his place. He knew, without even asking, that I didn't want to go home. Mulder's apartment may not be the coziest place in the world but there is something about it I like. I sighed and leaned my head against the window, watching the scenery go by. I could sense him turn his head and look at me every once in awhile, and at one red light he reached over and took my hand. He squeezed it and I gave his hand four quick squeezes back. "Scully?" "Nothing," I said, turning to him and showing a small smile, "Just a secret handshake my grandmother taught me." "Show me." Just then the driver behind us beeped his horn; the light had turned green. Mulder released my hand and turned his eyes back to the road, the moment over. We got to his apartment and I actually waited for him to hop out of the car and come around to open my door. He bowed and made a flourish. "May I offer you my arm, m'lady?" I smiled at him and tucked my hand under his elbow. We rode the elevator up to the fourth floor in silence, both of us watching the blinking floor indicator. He led me down the hall and ushered me into his apartment, his hand on the small of my back in his customary gesture. I sank down on the sofa. "Let me take your coat. Tea for you, right?" "If you have any, yeah, that would be great." "Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime, with a dash of honey." He smiled at me, proud of his knowledge. I returned the smile. "Mulder, I am impressed." "You'll be even more impressed when you see me drink some myself," he called over his shoulder as he went into the kitchen. I listened to him bustling around and soon he returned with two steaming mugs. I took a sip, enjoying the familiar warm flavors sliding down my throat. Mulder watched me over the rim of his mug, eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Just right. You can make my tea every day from now on," I teased, setting my mug down. Mulder took a gulp of tea and set his mug next to mine. "I thought you didn't like frilly girl beverages," I said, referring to a remark Mulder had once made in our great debate of coffee vs. tea. He smiled and shrugged. "First time for everything." We stared at each other silently for a minute, and I knew he was waiting for me to begin. Suddenly I felt shy, and somewhat embarrassed about rousing Mulder from sleep in the middle of the night to come pick me up like a lost child. "I'm so---" He held up a hand and cut me off. "I don't want to hear any apologies, Scully. You've been there for me every time I needed you. I'm glad to have a chance to do the same for you in return, although I wish I didn't have to. Because I hate to see you upset, I mean. But I'm happy to do it." He smiled at his convoluted sentence. "Does that make sense?" "As much sense as you usually make," I smirked, trying to lighten the mood. He made a face at me, then watched me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. "Mulder...I don't know what's wrong with me. We've handled dozens of dangerous cases, seen any number of disturbing things. In the past, I have been able to handle our cases in the manner in which I was trained to. This one, though...I can't stop dreaming about it." "Nightmares?" I nodded, then ducked my head to break eye contact. "I haven't slept since that day. I wake up screaming." He looked at me sympathetically. "I can relate to that." I looked back up at him. "Mulder, this X-File, it's pretty tame compared to others we've investigated. No UFO's or government conspiracies..." "Just some concrete evidence: a photograph of your own terror." I sighed and put my logic cap back on. "There could be any numbers of explanations for that: those photo booths aren't very reliable, it could be old film---" "Yeah, unflattering pictures of myself give me nightmares all the time," he answered dryly, shooting me a pointed look. I blushed and fell silent. "Scully," he continued, "I asked you once why you refused to believe, after all we've seen. You told me you were afraid to believe. Isn't it possible that's what's happening here?" "This is totally different from Luther Boggs---" "Is it? You're confronted with something paranormal that directly involves you, and you shy away from it, try to explain it away with science. Only this time, your subconscious won't let you, because deep inside you know something's going on." "Yeah, I'm losing my mind," I whispered, looking down at my hands clenched in my lap. "No, you're not. I know how you feel--- this is my specialty, you know. Getting inside the minds of criminals. The more deranged they are, the better I understand them. What does that say about me?" "That you're brilliant," I answered. He gave a small smile at the compliment. "Or that I'm spooky." "Don't say that," I said irritably, "You know I hate it when you call yourself that." His grin widened. "What about when they call you Mrs. Spooky?" "That I don't mind. I'm proud of the work we do, Mulder." He nodded. "I know you are. I am, too, and I'm proud to have you for my partner." I leaned back with a sigh. "Right now I can't imagine why." "Scully, listen to me," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders, "You've held it together through many traumatic situations, some that I put you in. Every one you handled in a textbook manner, including this last one. You almost had an icepick shoved into your brain, for God's sake, who wouldn't get nightmares from that? There's nothing wrong with being scared." "I wasn't scared, exactly, Mulder...I mean, yes, being kidnapped by Schnauz was terrifying. I owe you my life. A few more minutes and I would have still been alive...but Dana Scully would have been dead." I started to tremble, becoming agitated, and Mulder let his hands slide down my arms to hold my hands again. "Everything I am, all my memories, my emotions, would have been destroyed. Not just three month's worth... *everything*. I wouldn't miss who I had been. I wouldn't even remember." "I would miss you, Scully," he said in a low voice. "But I wouldn't miss you," I cried, "I wouldn't even know you! I wouldn't know myself!" "Dana, it's okay. It didn't happen. I got to you in time. I never should have let you go to the car alone-" "Mulder, this is not about blame and it's not about close calls! What bothers me the most..." I faltered, unsure if I could actually voice my next thought. "Go ahead. Say it. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me." I nodded and continued, "What bothers me the most...is that Schnauz was right. I...I do have unrest. *Especially* me, he said. There are things haunting me that I will never be free of as long as I'm alive...or sane. In my darker moments I think that it wouldn't have been all bad to lose myself that way. The thought of being completely out of touch with reality terrifies me, but with that loss would come peace." I could tell by the stricken look on Mulder's face that this was not the answer he expected. This was a thought he may have had occasionally, but not one he expected to hear from Dana Scully, scientist, MD, and the ultimate professional. I watched his face anxiously, waiting for his reaction. "Scully, you don't really mean that." He meant it to come out as a statement, but I also heard the question, the plea for me to deny it. "No, I suppose not. I'm happy with who I am. But sometimes, Mulder...I wish I didn't know everything I do." "You wouldn't, if you hadn't been assigned to the X-Files." "Oh, no, you don't. This is one thing I'm not letting you blame yourself for. Mulder, I make my own choices, and that includes career choices. You are without a doubt the most extraordinary FBI agent I've ever had the privilege to work with, and I wouldn't change a thing about our partnership. The things I've been through, the things I wish had never happened, are things entirely out of our control. I know you hate that, and so do I. But we both know who's responsible. And it's not you." We sat in silence for a minute. I could tell he was letting my words sink in, struggling against himself to accept that I was right and it wasn't his fault. Mulder is his own favorite scapegoat. "It's just..." he hesitated, then continued, "Every time something like this happens, every time you get hurt or your life is in danger, I can't help but think that I could have prevented it by doing something different. Being a better FBI agent." "Mulder, I feel the same way when something happens to you. When it happens to me, like this latest incident, I question my abilities even more. If I can't take care of myself, how will I ever be able to protect you in a dangerous situation?" "You've done a great job so far." I smiled. "Thanks." "Look, Scully, these are the risks we take as officers of the law. Sometimes things go wrong and people get hurt or killed. I trust you completely. With my life. I know that you always do everything you can to watch my back. And you know I do the same for you. As far as your unrest is concerned..." I picked up where he trailed off, "It's scary how similar our lives have become, isn't it? We've both lost our fathers suddenly. Our sisters were taken from us in exchange for our lives. It was me Krychek meant to shoot, not Melissa...and you found your name on that folder under Samantha's." "It does make you wonder," he conceded. "How do you deal with it? How do you sleep at night?" I asked bluntly. He shrugged. "I don't always. I usually channel surf until I drop off. You know that." "But how do you live with so much unrest? Don't you ever want to retreat into your own mind and not have to face it anymore?" I persisted. Mulder shifted uneasily and responded, "Sure, but I have to believe that by facing it, I'll find Samantha someday. At the very least, I know that my gift for understanding the deviant mind can help others. That gives me some satisfaction. Look, Dana, you of all people know that I'm not the best at expressing or dealing with my emotions. We just do the best we can for ourselves, and each other." I looked into his eyes for a long moment and whispered, "Mulder, I don't know if I can do this." The color drained from his face and his eyes widened. "You mean you want to leave the X-Files?" I shook my head. "No. I could never do that. I'm just afraid that I'm losing my effectiveness as an agent." "You worried about that during the Pfaster case, too." I looked at him in surprise. I had never told Mulder that I'd gone to see a counselor at the Bureau and told her that very thing. "How did you know that?" He shrugged. "I could just tell." "Mulder, I don't want to put you in danger because I'm falling apart at the seams, maybe I should back away..." He grabbed my upper arms tightly and pulled me close to him. My eyes widened at the intensity in his face. "Scully, don't you know by now that you're what keeps me out of danger? I felt at first that you were holding me back, but I learned in time that you're the one that keeps me grounded. And I'm the one that makes you stretch your boundaries. We're the perfect complement to each other, can't you see that? Remove one of us and the whole thing falls apart. And then they win. We can't let that happen. You can't leave. You're too important to me." I recovered my powers of speech enough to say the only inane thing that popped into my head: "I...I didn't know you felt this strongly." He reached up a hand to caress my cheek. "I do. God, Scully, the same things you said before went through my mind today, too. A few more minutes and I would have had to spend the rest of my life watching you as a vegetable." His voice sank to a whisper and he leaned in to rest his forehead against mine, his hand reaching up behind my head to stroke my hair. I held very still, startled as much by his actions as I was by how much I enjoyed the sensation of having him so close to me. His breath was warm against my face as he continued, "You mean more to me than anyone. I can't lose you again. Your abduction was bad enough, but having to watch you like that for the rest of your life..." He shuddered and pulled me into his embrace. My heart started pounding. I was sure he could feel it through both our shirts because I could feel his pulse racing as well. We held each other tightly for a moment, then he pulled back from me and looked into my eyes again. His hands were still tangled in my hair and his eyes had that hooded look I'd never noticed was so sexy before. I gazed back at him and caught myself involuntarily licking my lips. He correctly took that as my consent and closed his eyes, dipping his head down to mine. <Oh my God, Mulder is going to kiss me.> My eyelids fluttered shut as his lips met mine. A light, soft touch. Then he paused, waiting to see if I would respond. I returned the kiss, running the tip of my tongue along his full lower lip, then pausing myself to see what his next move would be. He responded by pressing his lips down on mine, kissing me fully. I opened my mouth and slowly explored his with my tongue, feeling his sharp intake of breath at the sensation. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he tightened his grip on my hair as our passion built. He slid his hands down my back to pull me closer against him. We were both letting out soft little moans as I sucked on his tongue. A small part of me couldn't believe this was Mulder I was kissing so erotically, but it felt so right. We had shared so much together, why not share this, too? I certainly found Mulder attractive, and every so often I would catch him looking at me in a way that made me wonder if he felt the same towards me. Apparently he does, I thought with an internal smile. After two days of terror and no sleep, it felt wonderful to be with Mulder like this. I felt alive. Here was a caring, compassionate human being who obviously wanted me as much as I wanted him. What nightmare could withstand love? Mulder pulled back from me abruptly, leaving me with my mouth hanging open. My lips felt swollen from being pressed against his teeth. We were both breathing hard and I saw beads of sweat on his forehead. I could tell by the look on his face that he was having doubts about what we'd just done and it made my stomach sink. "Scully..." he began, then stopped and sprang up from the couch, stalking over to the window. He leaned his forehead against the glass. I sat still on the couch, afraid to approach him, afraid I wouldn't want to hear what he had to say. Maybe he had only kissed me out of pity. Maybe he'd just gotten caught up the emotions of my close call. Maybe I was an idiot for assuming he was experiencing the same startling, new feelings I was. I had never thought of Mulder in sexual or romantic ways before---okay, yes I had, but only in the occasional dream. Or he would make some remark fraught with innuendo and I'd start to wonder what lay behind it, only to have him follow up with some totally goofy comment that would make me think: <Don't be stupid, Dana, he's only fooling with you.> I made myself get up off the couch and walk over to him. His breath was fogging up the glass and I could see his hands clenching and unclenching. I pushed aside the thought of what those hands might feel like on my body <God, where did that come from? I really am losing it.> and touched his shoulder. He turned around and looked at me, his face neutral. My heart skipped a beat at the blankness I saw in his face. Until I got a close look into his eyes. I could read the desire there, and the fear. "This was a surprise for you, too," I said quietly. He nodded. "Are you sorry?" he asked. "No," I replied, "Are you?" "No. I just don't know what to do next." I couldn't help but grin at such a remark coming from Mulder, the man of 1000 off- color jokes and an impressive pornography collection. He instantly read my thought and smiled back. "Well, I know *what* to do. I'm just not sure if I *should*." "What does your heart tell you?" I asked, placing the palm of one hand against his chest. His heart beat like a drum beneath my hand. He caught his breath at my touch, then covered my hand with his own. "Several different things." "Like what?" I persisted. "Well, part of me wants to toss you onto my rarely used bed and ravish you in various creative ways." I blushed and smiled at his words. I cleared my throat and asked, "And the other part?" "The other part says I would be taking advantage of you if I did. You haven't gotten much sleep, Scully, and maybe you're not thinking too clearly right now." "Oh, I think I'm thinking clearly about certain things for the first time," I replied, and was gratified to see him blush in turn. "Maybe so. I hope you are. But a little sleep couldn't hurt. I'll still be here when you wake up." "But, Mulder, I'm not slee-" I betrayed myself at that moment with a bone- cracking yawn. When I opened my eyes Mulder was grinning at me and I laughed. "Okay, maybe I am." "Come along then, Dana," he said, leading me by the hand into his bedroom. "It's bedtime for FBI agents." He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt that NOBODY KNOWS I'M ELVIS. "You can wear these. The bed's yours. Enjoy it." "Don't I get a bedtime story?" I teased. "Oh, yeah. Sure. Once upon a time there was a woman named Dana and a man named Mulder. One night, they decided to wait until the next morning to see what direction their relationship would take. The end. Good night." With a kiss on my forehead, he left, shutting the door softly behind him. I chuckled and changed into the shorts and T-shirt. I peeled back the crisp sheets, which looked like they hadn't been slept on in awhile. I heard Mulder switch the TV back on and flop down on the couch. Resisting the urge to walk out there and pounce on him, <Did I really say pounce?> I slid under the blankets and snapped off the lamp. I felt myself sinking towards a contented sleep for the first time in two days and smiled at the luxurious feeling. I watched the flickering light from the TV seep under the door until I drifted off. I woke to Mulder's gentle hand stroking my hair. All the blinds were drawn and I had no idea how much time had passed. I was lying on my side and Mulder was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to me. I stretched like a cat and looked up at him, yawning. "What time is it?" I asked. He checked his watch. "Ten after seven." I scooted myself up to lean against the headboard. "I didn't sleep very long, did I?" He smiled at me. "I mean, it's ten after seven in the evening, Scully." My eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean we slept the whole day?" "Well, you did," he teased, "I was up at the crack of dawn and put in a productive day. Don't worry, Scully, I called us out sick. Skinner was a little surprised when I told him we were sleeping together, but..." I cut him off with a punch in the shoulder. "Mulder, that is *not* funny." "Sure it is," he cackled, ever the merry prankster. "Why didn't you wake me?" "Why should I have? You hadn't slept in two nights." I switched topics. "How long were you sitting there watching me before I woke up?" "Oh, about an hour. I was in and out all day checking on you. You talk in your sleep, you know." I felt myself redden to the hairline. "I do not." "Do too." "What did I say?" "Enough to give me hope that you *were* thinking clearly last night." I squirmed slightly under his scrutiny. "Like what?" He grinned at me. "I'd tell you, Scully, but the thing is, you asked me in your sleep not to...and I promised you I wouldn't. Don't worry, I'm sure the memories will seep back into your conscious mind someday." I smacked him again. "Mulder, you're trying my patience." "So what else is new?" He unfolded his long legs and rose, holding out his hand to me. "Come on, dinners' ready." I let myself be pulled out of bed and led down the hall. "You cooked for me?" I asked, amazed at this side of Mulder. Domestic God. Who knew? He snorted at my question. "You're awake, Scully, the dream's over. We ordered Chinese." My laughter abruptly stopped when I saw the coffee table in Mulder's living room. I'd been expecting cardboard cartons scattered around and maybe a six-pack. Instead, he'd set the low table with china plates and wine glasses. A fat, scented candle in a glass jar flickered softly. Two big pillows for us to sit on. "Something wrong, Scully?" he asked, wondering at my sudden silence. I shook my head and smothered a grin. He shrugged and plopped down on the floor, indicating I should sit also. I did, watching him pour us wine and open the cartons. "General Tso's chicken and lo mien," he said, dishing some out for each of us. "Your favorites, right?" I nodded and dug in, suddenly famished. For awhile we were both silent as we inhaled the food. I tangled with the chopsticks at first, watching Mulder dig in with his bare hands, sauce and noodles dripping from his fingers. <What would he do if I reached over, took his hand, and sucked the sauce off?> I giggled a little at the thought and ditched the chopsticks, using my fingers instead. By the time we'd finished, we were both messy up to our wrists. I sat back with a satisfied sigh, watching Mulder slurp up the last of his lo mien. "Good?" he asked. "Just what I wanted," I answered. He nodded seriously, "I know." My eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really?" "Really." "You know what I need?" I asked. <Should I be pressing this issue? Maybe not, but I'm going to anyway...> Mulder nodded again. I gave him my patented think-you-know-it- all-don't-you-Mulder look. "So what do I need right now?" "You need to clean off your hands," he replied. My heart started to race at his words. I gulped. Had he read my thoughts? Was I that transparent, or was he that...spooky? Before I could completely recover my composure he leapt up and went into the kitchen, returning with two damp paper towels. My hand shook as I reached out to accept it from him, wiping the sticky sauce off my fingers. I watched him do the same with a startling pang of regret. He caught what must have been an odd look on my face. "Something wrong, Scully?" "No, no," I replied, shaking my head. "Everything was delicious. Let me clean up." "Nah, just dump everything in the sink, I'll get to it later." "Before or after it becomes a biological hazard?" I laughed over my shoulder, carrying our plates to the sink. I turned on the tap and dug out an ancient bottle of Palmolive out from under the sink. I scrubbed at the dishes as if I could scrub away my own thoughts. I'd had plenty of sleep, so Mulder's worry that my mind was foggy no longer held true. Yet I was still feeling these peculiar tugs toward him...had Dana Scully, the one they called the Ice Queen (yes, I knew what other agents thought of me) really contemplated sucking "Spooky" Mulder's fingers? <Yep, that would be me.> I felt my ears starting to burn at the thought. What was wrong with me, anyway? First I fall apart over some routine (for Mulder and I, anyway) case, now I'm struggling to repress my desire to climb Mulder's body like a jungle gym. "Need any help?" came Mulder's voice at my ear. I yelped and knocked the plate I'd been washing against the sink, cracking it cleanly in two. One half crashed to the floor and the other slid into the sink. I whirled around to face him. "Mulder! Jesus Christ..." "Just call me Mulder," he smirked, bending down at the same time I did to retrieve the broken pieces of plate. Our foreheads cracked and we both straightened up, laughing. "I'm beginning to think I should wear a football helmet, I get bonked on the head so much," I joked. "Here, I'll kiss and make it better," he whispered, leaning in and softly kissing the lump on my forehead. His lips lingered against my skin longer than necessary and I wondered if that was really the tip of his tongue I was feeling. He pulled away and looked at me, half-defiant, half-scared. The ball was in my court now, I knew. I could end this, or continue. He was leaving the choice up to me. "Come here," I whispered, putting one hand behind his head to pull him down to me. He dipped his head and closed his eyes as I gently touched my lips to his forehead. I paused there, inhaling his scent with a shaky breath. My mouth traveled down one side of his face, kissing his closed eyelids one at a time. I planted light kisses along his jawline, enjoying the tingling feel of his stubble. I kissed his chin, down his neck to his Adams's apple, feeling it move beneath my mouth as he gulped and put his hands on my hips, a half-embrace. I slid my mouth back up and hovered over his lips, pausing before I took that final leap. He waited, his breath warm and moist against my face. I snaked out my tongue and touched the tip to his full bottom lip, hearing him gasp at the touch. I nibbled his bottom lip, a secret part of me enjoying his ragged breathing, his obvious desire. I was panting just as hard. He still hadn't tried to kiss me, hadn't pulled me closer. I brought my other hand up to frame his face with my palms, standing on tiptoe as I pulled him closer. He let out a moan as I traced his lips with my tongue again. "Dana, please..." he whimpered. I kissed him then, exploring his mouth with my tongue, tasting him. He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me tight against him. I could feel him, hard against my stomach, and it only got me hotter. I was sucking on his tongue, biting his lip, kissing him for all I was worth. Responding eagerly to my obvious hunger, he grabbed my ass and boosted me up onto the edge of the counter, sucking my tongue into his mouth. I wrapped my legs around his waist, rubbing against him. Our caresses grew more frantic, he shoved his hands under my sweatshirt and stroked my breasts through my bra, leaning closer to me. I felt myself sliding backwards...right into the sink. I started laughing into his mouth as I felt the warm dishwater soak through my jeans. <I wonder if Glenn Close remembered to drain the sink first?> At that thought I completely lost it, giggling madly, breaking the kiss to laugh into his chest. "What?" he gasped, half-smiling. He was torn between wanting to know the joke and wondering if it was on him. "Look at me," I laughed, hopping off the counter and turning around to show him my wet butt. "What...? Oh, the sink," he said, smiling. "We can't even make out like normal people," I grinned. To my surprise, his smile faded at my remark. "What do you mean?" My own smile faded at the sudden seriousness of his expression. "I just mean...you know, it's kind of funny, ending up in the sink." "But you didn't say we were funny. You said we weren't normal." My brow furrowed to match Mulder's, wondering where he was going with this. "I didn't say *we* weren't normal--" He cut me off, "Just that we don't kiss normal." "Mulder---" He shook his head and smiled at me. "Forget it, Scully. I'm just being...spooky, I guess. Come on, I'll take you home so you can change into some dry clothes." I frowned at this unexpected proposition. One minute we were necking like a couple of teenagers, the next Mulder has shut down and wants to take me home. I followed him into the living room. "Mulder, what's wrong?" He avoided my gaze. "Nothing. We'll have a lot to catch up on tomorrow, you know, and you could probably use some more sleep." Sleep was the last thing on my mind right now, my body was still humming with desire, and my mind was reeling with both the newly discovered depths of my feelings for him and his abrupt rejection. Blinking back tears, I put on the coat he held out to me. His eyes met mine for an instant and he saw I was ready to cry but didn't say anything, only looked away. It was a long, awkward ride back to my apartment, nothing like the ride to safety and desire I'd taken earlier. Mulder cranked the radio up louder than usual. To block out any attempts at conversation, I was sure. Alanis Morissette was blaring out of the speakers, and it started the tears flowing down my cheeks. "I don't wanna live on someday when my motto is last week/I don't wanna be responsible for your fractured heart and it's wounded beat/I don't wanna be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling/What do you thank me/What do you thank me for?" I wanted to ask him if he felt responsible for me, and if that was why he'd kissed me, why he'd let me sleep at his apartment and bought me dinner. Maybe Mulder's motto was "last week", and he didn't want any entanglements. I felt my face set into the professional mask as I dried the last of my tears. Fine. Whatever he wanted. We'd just forget this little interlude had ever happened and go back to being partners. I'd let my composure slip, but that was understandable, considering what we'd just been through. Mulder had come on to me, I assured myself. And now he was regretting it. Okay. Tomorrow everything would be back to normal. As we pulled up in front of my apartment building, I knew that last thought was the biggest lie of all. Things between Mulder and I would never be the same again. To be continued... End part 01. I'm working on part 02 now, it should be out shortly. From jenbird@earthlink.net Mon May 12 18:35:57 1997 Subject: "Us 2: This Time I Believe" by Jennifer Maurer From: Jennifer Maurer <jenbird@earthlink.net> -------- *Sigh* I feel like I'm falling behind, everyone else is writing about Scully's brain tumor and I'm still plodding through her near escape from an icepick lobotomy. Ah well, this is what inspired me and I'm running with it. And now...the long awaited Us 2! Thanks to everyone who asked for this, and for waiting while I worked on it! DISCLAIMERS: I covered those in part 1. I see no need to repeat myself. We all know who M & S really belong to *sigh*. The song lyrics aren't mine, either, credit is given where due. SPOILERS: One teensy reference to "2Shy" (if you don't care how Scully dresses, then it won't be spoiled). References to "Duane Barry", "Ascension" & "One Breath" (I got my copy of the new X-Files set while writing this; now I've FINALLY seen the abduction!) Also references to "Fire" and "3" (yup, the women in Mulder's past). RATING: PG-13. Few mildly sexy things (still no nooky), few bad words. CLASSIFICATION: Starts out as a Mulder- vignette, becomes sort of a relationship story when Scully comes on the scene. This is one of those stories where you want to crack their heads together and scream, "Talk to each other, already! Clear the air! Then suck some face! You know you want to!" Mulder started to frustrate me and *I'm* the author! You can dress him up but you can't take him out... SUMMARY: Mulder drops Scully off at her apartment and returns home after their necking session. Now it's his turn to mope and ponder the hidden meaning of what they've just done. Then he has to face her at work the next day...heh heh heh. COMMENTS: Feel free to heap gobs of praise on <jenbird@earthlink.net> Constructive criticism also appreciated, I suppose:) This part is dedicated to Agent Sabine. Thanks, girlfriend, I had the strength of your beliefs! US 2/ THIS TIME I BELIEVE part 02/?? By: Jennifer Maurer "So, you know how people are/When it's all gone much too far/The way their minds are made/Still, there's something you should know/That I could not let show/That fear of letting go/This old familiar craving/I've been here before, this way of behaving/Don't know who the hell I'm saving anymore/Let it pass let it go let it leave/From the deepest place I grieve/This time I believe/And in this moment/I need to be needed/With this darkness all around me/I like to be liked/In this emptiness and fear/I want to be wanted/Cos I love to be loved/I love to be loved." ---Peter Gabriel, "Love to Be Loved" Normal. Funny how a small word like that could brings the walls crashing back down between Scully and myself. "We can't even make out like normal people," she'd said with a grin. It *was* kind of funny, her sliding into the sink like that, but my defenses came up and wouldn't let the humor in. Despite all the protests of my lonely heart, my mind had shut down and offered her a lift home. Talk about your smooth segue-ways: one minute we're sucking face (and what lovely face it was), the next I'm shoving her into the car. I knew she was hurt and perplexed, but I just didn't have it in me to try and articulate what I was feeling. All during the ride back to her apartment, I could feel her turn and look at me every once in awhile. The silence was oppressive. Once I heard her take a deep breath, as though she wanted to say something, and my hand automatically reached out and cranked up the radio. Alanis Morissette wailed at us: "I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours/I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey hidden in the bottom drawer/I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine/Lend me some fresh air." <Fresh air, *that's* what Scully needs, not my moldy basement atmosphere.> She sighed sharply and turned her face completely away from me, as if she had read that thought. I couldn't look at her again for the rest of the ride. If I had turned to her, I knew I would have grabbed her and never let her go. Every atom in my body was digging in its heels and shrieking "Noooooo! Don't let her get out of the car without telling her how you feel about her!" I'd never had to struggle against such strong instincts before, not that I often did. We pulled up in front of her building. She shoved the door open and hopped out, then turned to me, her cool professional mask back in place. "Thank you, Mulder," she said quietly. I nodded. "Not a problem. See you tomorrow." She paused, then nodded back and shut the door gently. I think I would have felt better if she'd slammed it. I *had* ditched her rather abruptly. I hoped she would be okay. I hesitated, about to roll down the window and call out to her, but she ran up the steps and disappeared inside before I could work up the nerve. Well, she'd probably tell me she was fine anyway, as usual. I turned the radio even louder on my way home, wanting the sound to block out my restless thoughts. "You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor..." I snapped it off so viciously the knob came off in my hand. <Cheap piece of shit> I snarled to myself, wondering if I was actually referring to the radio or myself. My apartment had all the cheerfulness of a broom closet without Scully's presence. I paced back and forth, running the scene over and over in my mind. <We can't even make out like normal people.> Damn eidetic memory. <Whatsa matter, Spooky? Can't take a joke?> a voice taunted in my head. The voices of all the agents who'd ridiculed me over the years. Which was pretty much all the agents I knew...except for Scully. She had only been teasing me, and I knew it. Yet I'd overreacted like some jilted teenager, getting rid of her before she could say anything else to hurt me. Her remark, for all the affection in it, *had* hurt me. Because I knew it was the truth. I hadn't been a normal person since Samantha's abduction. I'd accepted this long ago and learned to deal with it, even enjoyed it in a perverse way. I had never been your average agent, but I knew the X-Files had really put me out in left field, reputation-wise. I still remember Scully's disconcertion that first day we'd met, when I'd leaned in and asked her if she believed in extra-terrestrials. Being known as "Spooky" Mulder didn't always bother me. Only at certain times. Like now... How did normal people kiss, anyway? <Stop nit- picking, Mulder, you know that's not what she meant. It was funny. She got soaked in the sink while you were making out, that's funny. *Normal* people would laugh at that.> I uttered a short laugh that was more of a bark and paced faster. I had already put Scully through so much professionally. Was I prepared to wreak havoc on her personal life as well? <Maybe it could work> teased a voice in my head. <You trust each other, you care about each other...maybe it could work.> Scully *was* the only one I trusted, I knew that without a doubt. I did care for her, considered her the best friend I had. Did I love her? My mind spun, refusing to settle down long enough to entertain that thought completely. I strongly suspected I did. When I'd heard her voice over the phone last night, shaking with fear, my heart had stopped. My mind screamed <NOT AGAIN!> When she asked me to come get her, auto-pilot took over, all I could think about was getting to her in time, before the bastards took her away from me again. There had already been one close call that day, I couldn't push my luck again. My relief when I'd found her unharmed had surprised me a little. I had been somewhat startled by her tears. I had only seen Scully cry once before, during the Pfaster investigation, smothered whimpers into my shirt. Last night's wild sobs had thrown me, but I realized even Scully's bound to lose her composure once in her career. I had been secretly complimenting myself on comforting her when she'd dropped that bombshell about half-wishing she could lose her mind to escape her pain. <My God, I've turned her into me> was the thought that filled my frozen mind. <I've made Scully into an eccentric, miserable loner.> I'd stopped worrying about that when we kissed, like any two people <lovers!> would. I'd trod this ground carefully, wondering if she'd respond in kind or slap me. Her kisses had been all I'd fantasized about, and more. I'd never paid much attention to her "Ice Queen" reputation. At first I'd thought <It's always the quiet ones that have a secret wild side.> Later, as we became closer, I discovered that despite her cool exterior, Scully really did have a warm and gentle heart. Watching her sleep had been a rare treat, something I usually only enjoyed in snatches on stakeouts. I'd leave the room, putter around my apartment, try to work on my computer---yet I was always drawn back to my bedroom, watching Scully sleep. Her red hair fanned out on my pillow, where no woman had slept for so long <Watch it, Mulder, dangerous territory ahead>. I reached my hand out and then drew back half a dozen times, wanting to touch her hair. Finally I took a lock between my thumb and forefinger and rubbed them together. Soft. I got more daring and combed my fingers through the bright strands. Her sweet scent drifted up to me and I inhaled, smiling. Pretty. I remembered that plane we'd found on the bottom of the ocean, named "Drop Dead Red." I'd teased Scully about that for weeks: I'd call her "Red" and she'd pretend to glare at me and growl "Drop dead." We had laughed about it. After the scare last night, though, I didn't think we'd be joking about dropping dead anymore. Then she had started muttering softly in her sleep, and let me tell you, THAT got my attention like nothing else. Her brow furrowed, she frowned slightly. <Not another nightmare> I pleaded silently, <Let her sleep in peace.> I smoothed her forehead with my fingertips, the lightest touch, and her frown had disappeared with a sleepy sound of contentment that made me smile as well. Scully reached up and touched my hand, still asleep, and murmured, "Safe...thanks, Mulder..." I blinked back tears at that simple statement. I was probably the *least* safe person in Scully's life, yet she had turned to me last night when she needed someone. Finally she had opened up to me. <In more ways than one> I thought with a chuckle. She said one more thing before sinking back into deep sleep and letting go of my hand: "So nice...kissing me..." I grinned. She had awakened suddenly while I was still playing with her hair. I'd had to restrain my impulse to bolt off the bed and flee from the room like a frightened woodland creature. <Chill out, this is Scully...she's still your friend, even if you did take a few liberties last night...right?> Her smile had slowed my pulse to a normal rate and her shock at sleeping so long had amused me. She seemed okay with the kissy-face of the previous evening, although I did have my doubts when I'd caught her looking at me oddly over dinner...doubts that were then erased by the kisses we'd shared in my kitchen. Doubts that had reared their ugly heads again <hi! thought we were going somewhere?> when she'd made that "normal" remark. And now here I was, pacing my living room like a caged animal, mentally kicking myself for slamming the recently opened door in her face. She'd taken me into her confidence, trusted me with her problems, and how did I handle that? By having what amounted to a temper tantrum and escorting her coldly home. Geez, she was gonna kill me. If she spoke to me at all, that is. <Fuck, this is why I never wanted to get involved with Scully.> I snorted at that thought. I was *already* involved with Scully, and I wanted very much to be *further* involved. I just didn't think it would be the best thing for her. I hadn't loved anyone since Samantha...what would happen if I let myself love Scully? <Dana> a voice in my head chided me, <She's *Dana* and you can't *let* yourself love her...because you already do.> Thus, I spent the rest of my evening alternately pacing some more and flopping down on my couch with angry sighs, wondering why nothing on TV was distracting me tonight. I must have reached for the phone a million times, wanting to call her. <Scully...Dana, I'm sorry. I didn't *want* to shut you out...> The furthest I got was dialing half of her number. <She needs her sleep...Bullshit. She's probably not sleeping much after the way you treated her. Be noble, Mulder, and let her go. Don't fuck with her head anymore than you already have.> Okay then, I would go into work tomorrow and act like everything was normal. <Christ, that word again. No escape.> I picked my most obnoxious tie the next morning, the one I knew Scully hated the most, hoping to get a smile out of her. I kept the radio off all during my drive to FBI headquarters, drumming my fingers nervously against the wheel to my own internal beat. <God, this is like going to pick up my prom date...only worse.> I ran down the stairs to the basement, too edgy to wait for the elevator. I paused outside the door, then swung it open. Darkness. She wasn't here yet. I snapped on the lights, started the coffee, even making that god-awful fudge flavored stuff I knew Scully loved. I stared at the file on the desk in front of me, wondering why I was even pretending to make the effort. My senses were tuned into the hallway, waiting for her footsteps. My door was even half-open, an event unusual enough to warrant its own X-File. Footsteps came and went...then I heard hers approaching. I'd know Scully's step anywhere. Her sensible pumps ticked down the hall, counting out the seconds until...what? My heartbeat drummed in my ears, growing louder with her footsteps. The door swung open the rest of the way and that red head peeked around the corner. "Someone bust the lock again?" Scully inquired pertly. I think I gaped. I had been expecting anger, coldness...anything but Scully's *normal* behavior. Usually I have a witty comeback ready for any banter she throws my way, but right then I felt like my brain was wrapped in cotton. "Uhhhh...no." "Good, because I think maintenance is tired of giving you new doorknobs and keys " she replied, walking in and sitting down in her chair facing my desk, like she'd done a million times before. She was wearing my favorite suit, the sky blue pants suit she'd first worn during the 2Shy case. It was unlike any of her other conservative, dark suits. It matched her eyes exactly. I'd made a comment to that effect at the time and she'd felt my forehead for a fever. "Ummmm...yeah." I managed a watery smile. "Mulder...are you all right?" she asked, arching one eyebrow at me. Was I all right? What kind of a question was that? <We *did* kiss last night, didn't we?> I wanted to ask her more than anything, but something stopped me. As her cool blue eyes met mine, I began to catch on. She wanted to pretend none of this had happened. That she hadn't bared her soul to me, that we hadn't kissed each other like no partners should. Whatever she wanted. I could play this game. "I'm fine. Just fine." "Good. What are we working on?" "Well, we have to finish up the case report on Gerald Schnauz <she didn't even flinch at his name---damn, she's good> and get all the usual annoying paperwork done for Skinner: expense reports, yadda yadda, yadda." She nodded. "Well, since I started the case report, how about if I wrap that up, then I'll help you with the other forms, okay?" "Sure. Fine. Whatever." Scully shot me a look at my curt tone but said nothing, only rose and walked over to her desk to set up her laptop. She got right down to work <how the hell can she concentrate?> while I angrily shuffled papers around. I hate red tape on a normal day <what the hell *is* a normal day for us, anyway?> but I really thought I might snap trying to fill in the dotted lines with Scully sitting across the room, tapping softly on her keyboard. I wanted to throw myself at her feet and ask forgiveness for doing a 180 and dumping her back at home. I wanted to sweep the computer off her desk with one arm and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing to me. I wanted to tiptoe up behind her, tap her on the shoulder, and softly inquire, "Did last night happen or not?" "Excuse me?" she said, turning in her chair to face me. "What?" "You said something." "No, I didn't." <Shit, was that out loud?> "Oh...I thought I heard you say something." "Nah, just, um, talking to myself. You know." She looked at me for a minute, then shrugged and turned back to her work. <How can she just sit there and type? Doesn't she want to know what I said? She didn't really buy that "I didn't say anything" crap...did she? Of course, she was probably saying much the same thing to herself last night after I...> I shook my head and forced my attention to the crumpled forms in front of me. I was getting as good as I usually gave, and I didn't like it one bit. I couldn't even decide if Scully was playing mind games on purpose <nah, she wouldn't do that> or if she really just wanted to forget what had happened. <The *enigmatic* Dr. Scully> I thought, and managed a smile. My mind ping-ponged back and forth. Ask her? Let it go? Draw her further into my twisted universe or be noble and keep her at arms' length? Find out how she really felt about me or spend the rest of my life wondering? Admit to myself---and to her---how *I* felt about *her*, or keep my mouth shut and maybe regret it? Regrets. I had so many where Scully was concerned. She didn't know it but I still had the tape from my answering machine, when she'd been abducted by Duane Barry. <Mulder, I need your help! Mulder...!> I didn't play it very often anymore, although I had after she'd first come back. Constantly. <Mulder, I need your help!> Her words still echoed in my head like a mantra. I knew I would always hear them. It suddenly occurred to me that she'd sounded just like that screaming for me in Schnauz's trailer <Mulder, I'm in here! Mulder, help!> "Mulder...?" I must have jumped a mile at her gentle hand on my shoulder. I hadn't heard her get up and walk across the office to me. "Sorry...are you okay?" I looked up at her, almost surprised to see her standing there, I'd been so lost in my memories of when she'd been gone...and then dying. *Dying.* She had come so close to it. I had nearly lost her for good. Melissa had come to my door, urging me to come to the hospital before it was too late. <I expect more of you, Dana expects more! It may not bring her back, but at least she'll know. And so will you.> And if I hadn't gotten to her in time yesterday, I would've spent the rest of my life visiting her in a hospital, only she *wouldn't* have known. Her brows drew together in a puzzled frown as I gaped at her, lost in thought again. She was about to speak when I reached out and grabbed her hand. "You're here." She smiled. "Last I checked, yes." "I mean...you're *here*. Standing here. Everything's okay." She squeezed my hand back and then slowly pulled hers from my grasp. "I don't know...*is* everything okay?" I grinned like a goof. "Yeah. Everything's okay." She nodded. "Good. Now let's get back to work." She walked back to her desk and sat down, immediately absorbed in her report again. I watched her closely for a minute, still somewhat amazed that she was in one piece. As my mind cleared, however, I started to mentally kick myself. What the hell was *that* all about, Mulder? Some pretty smooth talkin' there. <You're here. Duh, of course she is, Mulder, she always has been. But for how much longer, if you keep denying how you feel about her...and how *she* feels about *you*?> I clenched and unclenched my fists around the forms, willing myself to open my mouth and speak. <C'mon, Mulder, you can do it. You *are* a Ph.D., after all. Just say it. You may not want to right now, but suppose something happens to her? Suppose they take her again...and don't bring her back this time. Think you could survive the rest of your life knowing you had the chance to tell her you love her and you let it slip away?> Sweat started to bead on my forehead at the thought. God, I was no good at this sort of thing. I hadn't been in love since Phoebe Green, not really. I'd various flings, sure, but never anything serious. Kristen Kilar flashed through my mind and I winced. Scully had been going through God knows what kind of torture and I'd been getting laid by a vampire. <Nice going, Mulder. Don't you think Scully deserves someone a little more loyal?> But I *was* loyal to her...wasn't I? I'd searched for her for months. I had never given up on her, not when her mother had bought her tombstone, not even when the doctors had given up all hope. She'd even said the strength of my beliefs had brought her back. And I'd always had the strength of hers. I'd let her get closer to me than anyone in my life, ever. Now here was Scully right in front of me, the partner I'd always depended on more than anybody...could I let her be something more to me? More to the point: she *already* meant more, but could I accept that? Did I deserve to? Okay. This had to be done. I knew with absolute certainty that I would never forgive myself if I didn't tell Scully how I felt about her now, while I had the chance. The door had been opened to me, by Scully herself <Mulder, can you come get me?>. Now all I had to do was walk through it. Into a place I knew well but had never really visited: Dana Katherine's heart. <Flowers, get her flowers.> The voice in my head seemed to be making some sense this time. <This is a momentous occasion>, I told myself, <don't just spill your guts here in your office, the warehouse for UFOs-R-Us. Impress her. After all, you only tell a woman you love her for the first time once, right?> I smothered a grin at the incredulous look I knew Scully would have on her face when I sprung this on her. I knew she thought Fox Mulder didn't have even a nodding acquaintance with romance or chivalry. Well, *she* was in for a surprise. I grinned. This was pretty sneaky of me. Guess ol' Spooky still has some surprises left in him. She would probably think I was some poorly programmed Mulder-clone, but I had a feeling I could soon convince her of the sincerity of my feelings. I shoved the forms aside and got to my feet, smothering my grin just before Scully turned around to look at me inquiringly. "Going somewhere?" she asked. "Um, yeah, I need to <think fast, Mulder> do a little research for a new case that Skinner's assigned us. I'll finish those forms later, okay?" She merely shrugged and turned back to her computer, resumed her typing. <She's probably pissed that I'm blowing off the paperwork. Oh, well, she'll get over it soon enough.> I continued to marvel at my own behavior as I walked to my car. Now it was my turn to act out of character. It was almost as if Scully's heart-broken sobs had opened up some door in my soul. A door with rusty hinges, that had been nailed shut since my sister's abduction. A door that led to a room full of emotions I had only had a nodding acquaintance with over the years. Emotions I logically knew everyone felt, emotions I could outwardly appear to feel...but emotions that I hadn't *really* experienced myself. Scully was sometimes the same way, I thought, she seems so cool on the outside, but every once in awhile she surprises me. The one and only she'd called me "Fox," for example, and told me I was the only one she'd put her career on the line for. Well, I decided, it was way past time for *both* of us to open up more. I felt like a big, lost dork as soon as I walked into the flower shop. I wrinkled my nose at the assault of odors, wondering again why women loved flowers so much. <They smell, they give you allergies, then they die...but who am I to go against tradition?> I grinned at that last thought, knowing that I was the poster boy for going against tradition. Still, Clark Gable would do it. <Okay, Mulder, suck it up and act like the suave gentleman we all know you can be.> I meandered around, managing to avoid the salesgirl by ducking behind displays every time she got near me. I didn't want to be talked into anything. This was *my* gift to Scully, a small way of saying how I loved her, and I was determined to be...different. As usual. I paused next to a big plastic bucket filled with long stemmed roses. <Okay, roses are good.> My eyes took in the red ones first, then dismissed them as boring. *Everyone* gives a single red rose to declare their love. Scully and I had not come together like everyone else, so doing it like everyone else was out. White? I thought of a phrase I'd read once, that very few women could dare to hold a white rose against their skin. <Scully *does* have beautiful skin...> Nah. Too mushy. Pink? Not for a redhead. Yellow? All I could think of was "The Yellow Rose of Texas." I finally settled on a half-opened <just like us> bud that was a delicate shade of peach. I couldn't explain it, exactly, but the color seemed right. "Just one?" the salesgirl asked me. "Yup." I answered. "Could you maybe dress it up a little?" She nodded and smiled, "Sure thing." I watched as she added a fern leaf and a spring of baby's breath, then wrapped the small bundle in dark green tissue paper. She even included a little plastic thing full of water on the bottom of the rose. I felt myself grinning. "Thanks a lot." "No problem. Good luck." She winked at me. I was pretty proud of myself as I headed back to my car. I was acting less like Fox Mulder, Special Agent and a little more like Fox Mulder, Human Being. <Although Scully might debate that last part when I present her with a single rose.> Heading back to FBI headquarters, I decided that my basement office was not where I wanted to talk to Scully. Someplace else, I thought. Somewhere outside. We'd always met each other on our bench by the Potomac when there was something important happening in our lives, that would be the right spot. I pulled out my cell phone and called the office. "Federal Bureau of Investigation." "Hi, this is Special Agent Fox Mulder, can you connect me to my office?" "One moment, Agent Mulder..." It rang once...twice. <Come on, Scully pick up.> Five, six...well, maybe she'd taken a break or something. Just as I was about to hang up, she answered. "Scully." "Hey, it's me." "Mulder? Where are you?" <Shit, I never told her I was leaving the building...oh, well.> "I'm in my car, Scully, can you meet me somewhere?" "Your *car*? I thought you were just going upstairs to the library." "Um, yeah, well...I had to go out someplace. It was important." She sighed. "Another secret source, Mulder?" "Better." "Better than a secret source? Do you have a little gray man in the car?" "Nope, it's even more mysterious than that. You game or not, Scully?" She paused. "Okay, where?" "Our bench by the Potomac. As soon as you can get there. I'm already on my way." "Fine." Abruptly, she hung up. <Probably *really* pissed at me now. It's worth it, Scully, trust me.> I sat on the bench, jiggling my legs impatiently. Five minutes for her to shut off the computer, think evil thoughts of me, get her coat on. Another five to get to the garage, maybe ten if Skinner catches up with her along the way. After that, about another ten or fifteen minutes to get here. We'll say twenty, in case there's traffic. That half hour was the slowest of my life. I didn't start to pace until forty-five minutes had gone by. <Where the hell *is* she?> One hour. One hour and twenty minutes. I tried to reach her on her cell phone and got a polite recording informing me that the cellular customer I was trying to reach was unavailable. <She *never* turns off her cell phone.> I tried back at the office---maybe she'd gotten hung up with something. No answer. One hour and thirty-five minutes. She should have been here by now. I tried her apartment. "Hi, I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message." Damn machine. One hour and forty minutes. Scully wasn't anywhere. Still clutching the peach rose in my hand, I started for my car, my heart pounding. Scully's voice echoed in my head as I ran: "Mulder, I need your help! Mulder, help me!" I couldn't outrun her cries. I jumped into the car and careened out of there, wondering where the hell I should look for her this time. To be continued... ***** Geez, don't ya just *hate* when they end like that? It's my own special way of making sure you guys stay tuned for Part 3...hehehe. Comments, praise, etc. welcome at <jenbird@earthlink.net> From jenbird@earthlink.net Mon May 12 18:38:25 1997 Subject: "Us 3: Get This Love Untied" by Jennifer Maurer From: Jennifer Maurer <jenbird@earthlink.net> -------- DISCLAIMERS: I don't need 'em this time because MULDER AND SCULLY BELONG TO ME NOW, HAHAHAHAHA...sorry, was that out loud? Those darn voices in my head... Alas, M & S and Mrs. S AND Skinner *still* belong to FOX, 1013, and most especially Chris Carter, who's now probably so rich from creating them that he can *hire* people to go out and do his surfing for him...sorry, Chris, just jealousy rearing its ugly head. SPOILERS: More references to "Wetwired" and other cases mentioned in parts 1 and 2. RATING: PG-13. Nope, sorry, not yet. CLASSIFICATION: Scully vignette with a little action once Mulder shows his face on the scene. MSR, angst. SUMMARY: Scully hangs up the phone with Mulder after agreeing to meet him on their bench by the Potomac, only she never shows up... (sinister music swells in the background) COMMENTS: More than welcome, as always, to <jenbird@earthlink.net> This part is dedicated to Della, who always listens even when she doesn't really understand what this X-Files thing is all about, and Greg, who gives me big slobbery baby kisses:) US 3/GET THIS LOVE UNTIED by: Jennifer Maurer "Letting go, it's so hard The way it's hurting now To get this love untied So tough to stay with this thing Cos if I follow through I face what I denied I'll get those hooks out of me And I'll take out the hooks that I sunk deep in your side Kill that fear of emptiness, that loneliness I hide River oh river running deep Bring me something that will let me get to sleep In the washing of the water will you take it all away Bring me something to take this pain away." ---Peter Gabriel, "The Washing of the Water" I slammed down the receiver with enough force to put the whole phone through the desk. <Bastard.> So much for going upstairs to do some research for a new case <which he didn't even have the courtesy to brief *me* on, but that's okay, I'm just his *partner*>. Had I actually told him I would meet him by the Potomac? Forget that. He'd probably had this secret rendezvous with the next Deep Throat planned all along, so he could deal with it himself. Why should I drop everything to wander blind into a situation Mulder had created---which no doubt meant it was dangerous. No. This time he was on his own. I knew when I didn't show up that Mulder would worry about me, especially after all we'd been through in the last few days <has he forgotten that quickly?>. I sat down in his chair, drumming my fingers on the desk. <I should call him and tell him I'm not coming.> I actually had his cell phone number halfway dialed when I hung up. <When was the last time *he* called *you* to let you know he was okay?> I realized that I only wanted to get out of here. Curl up under my quilt like a sick child and just shut out the world. My famous Dana Scully armor had too many cracks in it for me to face Mulder now. It had been hard enough coming into the office this morning and acting normal. I snorted at the thought. One little word <*normal*> and I'd felt Mulder's heart snap shut like a steel trap. He was gone from me, even though he was still standing there. I shook my head. <I don't want to think about this now.> I wanted to go home and brood in private. This was the first place Mulder would look for me. I packed everything up and pulled my coat on. I could finish up my work just as easily at home. Let Mulder dig his own grave with those expense forms. My heart stopped at the knock on the door. <He wouldn't come back here to pick me up...would he?> I straightened my spine. Even if by some odd chance it *was* him, I could hold up for a few more minutes before I made my escape. "Come in." I don't think I'd ever been so glad to see Skinner in my life, for the simple fact that he *wasn't* Mulder. He paused, obviously slightly taken aback at Mulder's absence and my ready- to-leave attire. "Agent Scully..." he looked around. "Where is Agent Mulder?" I sighed, falling into the familiar drill. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know where Agent Mulder is. He said something about needing to pull some files for the case you've assigned us, but apparently he has left the building. I have no idea where he is now." Skinner's brows drew together in a confused frown. "New case? Agent Scully, I haven't assigned you two a new case yet. I'm still waiting to get the report on the Schnauz case." I felt my face start to burn. It wasn't as bad as Mulder neglecting to brief me on our new case, oh no. It was worse: he had *lied* to me about their being any case at all. Which probably meant he was off on another *solo* wild adventure. I felt like an idiot, and in front of my supervisor, no less. My anger at this new unfolding of events gave me a burst of cold energy, and I looked Skinner right in the eye. "I'm sorry sir, <damn it, why *I* always the one apologizing?> Agent Mulder led me to believe <no, I did *not* misunderstand him> that you had assigned us a new X-File. I haven't the faintest idea where he is now or what he's doing, although I suspect it's something neither of us would approve of." Skinner's eyebrows shot up at that last remark. I was half-shocked at the sarcasm coming out of my mouth, and I drew a deep breath before I continued, "If you don't mind, sir, I'd really rather finish up my work at home today. I'm nearly finished with the case report, I can e- mail it to you within the hour. Agent Mulder is responsible for the other work that needs to be finished." <There. Let's see him dig himself out of *that* one.> "That's fine, Agent Scully. You're not feeling well?" "No, sir, I'm fine." "Very well. Don't bother about e-mailing the case report, tomorrow on my desk will suffice. If you hear from Agent Mulder, please inform him that I'd like to see him." "I will, sir. Thank you." I could tell from Skinner's tone of voice that he was as angry with Mulder as I was. <Probably also feels sorry for me, the one who's always left behind to pick up Mulder's pieces.> I paused a moment after Skinner left, looking around the office I'd shared with Mulder for several years now. His posters, his gruesome photographs, his files, his desk. This was all about him. Where did I fit in? *Did* I fit in? I knew I was really asking myself this question on a personal, not professional, level. For all his overprotective reactions, I knew Mulder respected me as an FBI agent. I sometimes doubted myself, especially after an incident like the one with Schnauz, but Mulder never did. I had come into the X-Files in the middle of his quest for the truth, but the search had become mine as well. I had as much at stake now as he did, maybe more. No, my feeling of not belonging went deeper than the X-Files. In fact, that might be the *only* place in Mulder's life for me. I wandered listlessly to my car, feeling more dragged down with every step. I had gotten zero sleep after Mulder took me home, tossing and turning <alone> in my bed, unable to forget how his lips had felt against mine, his hands in my hair, on my body...I got in the car and slammed the door harder than necessary. <Damn you, Mulder.> I thought I understood, finally, why God told Eve not to eat the apple. Knowledge is not always a good thing. Maybe I should have been left to wonder the rest of my life what kissing Mulder would feel like. I had the knowledge now, and it didn't do me a damn bit of good. I pulled out of the garage faster than necessary, startled to hear my tires squeal. I made myself slow down and take deep breaths as I pulled out into traffic. Despite my earlier resolve, I still considered meeting Mulder on our bench. I drove around the block a few times, trying to make up my mind. I think I *wished* I wanted to go. But the desire just wasn't sincere. I really didn't want to be around Mulder anymore right now. I just wasn't up to it. Dealing with his rejection while simultaneously trying to act like nothing had happened after getting no sleep had simply worn me out. <Okay, but at least *call* him, you know how he gets, he'll be frantic when you don't show up.> I pulled over to the curb and reached for my cell phone. I had half of his number dialed when a wave of anger washed over me and I jabbed the off button, suddenly furious. How many times had Mulder done *me* this courtesy? None sprang to mind. No, poor Scully was always left behind, for one reason or another...and then got nothing but wise-ass remarks when I did finally track him down <"The Last Detail, starring Dana Scully">. He only wanted to protect me, it was too dangerous, he couldn't betray his source...Mulder had a million of them, and I'd swallowed every one like a good girl. Never explain, never complain. Mulder and I were the two halves of that expression and I was getting tired of it. <*Let* him worry> I thought as I pulled back into traffic, <*let* him see how it feels to have no idea where your partner is.> I turned the cell phone off completely and tossed it into the back seat of my car, ignoring the rational part of me that whispered <Aren't you being a little harsh? After Duane Barry, Mulder felt responsible for you, a responsibility that grows with each case...Donnie Pfaster, Gerald Schnauz. You know he will always worry about you when you're not there...and isn't that flattering? Doesn't that show he cares?> No, I told the voice, it was insulting, and caring is not the same as feeling guilty. I knew I was lying to myself even as I said it. Mulder felt so guilty *because* he cared. I abruptly decided I didn't want to go home after all. My apartment had seemed like a cage over the last few days. I had slept (or tried to, anyway) with the bedroom window open, something I never do, simply because I could no longer stand being completely sealed in. I felt like a sardine with all the windows shut...I felt like I was back inside Schnauz's trailer. How had Mulder ever heard me in there, with no windows? <No windows in a train car, either...isn't that where *they* kept you?> I jumped at the unexpected thought and felt goose bumps rising on my skin. No, home was not such a soothing option after all. I wondered who else to turn to, and decided on my mother. I thought briefly of the last time I had gone to her <"Mom, I've made a terrible mistake, Dad would be so ashamed of me...">, when I'd thought Mulder dead in New Mexico. I shuddered and turned up the heat in my car to combat the shivering I couldn't control. I turned towards my mother's house, with some reluctance. I always hesitated when the urge to confide in my mother came over me. Although she would never admit it, I knew she didn't want to hear about my work anymore, not after Melissa's death and my abduction. She still supported me, but preferred to do it without knowing the details. <Well, I can cry on her shoulder about Mulder, anyway, without telling her about Schnauz.> I had suspected for awhile now that my mother held secret hopes for Mulder and I. She sometimes reminded me how desperately he had searched for me when I was gone. I knew by those kind of remarks that Mulder meant a lot to her because Mom never spoke of my abduction otherwise. I pulled up in front of her house, feeling some measure of relief replace the nagging guilt that I had felt since switching off my phone. I was only half-way up the front walk when the door swung open and Mom stood there, looking absolutely petrified. I assumed she was startled to see me at her house in the middle of the day and hurried over to reassure her. "Mom, it's okay---" She cut me of by grabbing me in a tight hug. I could feel her trembling in my arms and rubbed her back. I let her go so we could both step inside and shut the door. Mom looked me up and down, still clutching my arm. "Dana, thank God you're all right, I was so worried..." "I know this is kind of a surprise visit, Mom, I just needed to talk." She frowned in confusion. "That's why you're here?" "Yes...is there a problem?" "No, of course not, honey, it's just that after Fox called here looking for you, I assumed the worst." Now it was my turn to frown. "*Mulder* called you looking for me?" "Yes, he said you were supposed to meet him somewhere and never showed up. He's looking everywhere for you, Dana, he was frantic. He said your cell phone was turned off and he couldn't imagine why." I pulled away from Mom and walked into the living room, trying to hold on to the last vestiges of my anger to keep from drowning in guilt. <Damn it, you *know* better than to scare Mulder like that, no matter how impossible he's being...that was cruel.> I paused in the living room and shut my eyes to stop the tears. I was overwhelmed by memories of the last time I had stood in the living room, pointing my gun at Mulder...then at my mother, who had stepped in front of him. <"I told you, Mom, he's here to kill me...Mom, just get out of the way!"> Mulder had looked at me sadly, silently, after it had become obvious his words <"Scully, you are the *only* one I trust."> were not getting through to me. I had screamed at him, accused him of being part of the plot to abduct me and kill Melissa. "Dana, honey...?" Mom came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. Once again, it was my first name that broke me, and I started sobbing. Mom turned me around and held me, murmuring soft words of comfort in my ear, rocking me back and forth. When I calmed down she looked into my face for a moment. "This is about Fox, isn't it?" I nodded, tears pooling in my eyes again. "Dana, why did you run from him again?" *Again* I had never considered the fact that this wasn't my first time running from Mulder. In these circumstances, yes...but I *had* avoided him before, if not to this extent. After he'd shot Schnauz, I'd brushed past him and walked away. I could barely handle him calling me "Dana" for God's sake. The first few times he'd done that, right after Ahab died, I'd flinched every time. He didn't try it again anytime soon. I shrugged and dropped down onto the couch, unable to answer my mother's question in words. "Well, give me your coat and just relax here for awhile. Want me to make us some tea?" God, she sounded like Mulder last night, offering me tea and sympathy. I bit my lip to stop it from quivering and shook my head. "Will you at least let me call Fox and tell him you're okay?" I nodded. I was going to have to face him eventually; in the meantime, easing his worries was the least I could do. "Okay, then." She patted my shoulder as she walked by and I reached up and grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Mom, I'm sorry I scared you." "I know, honey. Sometimes when we're upset we do things without thinking how it will affect others." She kissed the top of my head and left the room to call Mulder. I sighed and pressed my fingertips to my swollen eyes. I'd cried more in the past few days than any other time in recent memory, and it bothered me. Acting irrationally seemed to be the story of my life these days. I could hear her in the next room, despite the efforts she made to speak quietly. "Fox, it's Margaret Scully. Yes, she's here. Mmm-hmm, she just got here. No, she's fine. Yes, I promise. <Mulder asked Mom to *promise* I was okay?> Well, why don't you just go back to work and...no, I understand. That's fine, then. All right, Fox, I'll tell her. <Shit, he gave her a message for me?> Okay, goodbye." My stomach started doing flip flops and I managed to restrain myself for two whole seconds after Mom walked back in and sat down next to me. "What did Mulder say?" "He's on his way here, he wants to see you." "What..." I swallowed the lump in the throat, "...what did he want you to tell me?" Mom looked at me sadly for a moment before she answered. "That he loves you." I felt my face crumple and tears start again. Part of me was so happy to hear that, while another, annoyed part of me thought, <God, Mulder, you couldn't have told me yourself? You had to get my *mother* to tell me?> "Mom, everything is so messed up with Mulder and me..." She pulled me into her arms and stroked my hair. <like Mulder...why does everything remind me of him?> Mom let me go and sat back to look at me. "Do you love him, Dana?" "Maybe...I don't know, Mom. I think so." She raised her eyebrows, unsuccessfully hiding a small smile. "You think so?" I sighed. Never could get one past Mom. "Yes, I love him. I'm *in* love with him. And please don't look so satisfied, Mom, it's not going as well as you might like." "What happened?" "I was having a bad day, and I called Mulder to talk. I would have called you, but..." I trailed off. How could I tell her that I chose not to confide in her because of our unspoken agreement not to discuss my work? Was there even such an agreement or was it all my doing? Would Mom be hurt that I had chosen Mulder over her? My mother reassured me by squeezing my hand. "I know you don't tell me everything, Dana. I understand there are some things you only want to discuss with Fox." I smiled my thanks at her and continued. "So we talked, you know, and I felt a lot better. It's always so hard for me to open up to anyone, but that night it was easier. Just him being there, holding me while I cried, helped me. We'd just finished this case---" I stopped at the change I saw in my mother's face. She was torn between wanting to stop me and wanting to be there for me. I continued as if I hadn't noticed, "It was a difficult one, and I was tired. Maybe so tired that I didn't know what I was doing..." I trailed off and looked down at my mother's hand in mine, not wanting to look at her. "What did you do, honey?" "I, um...kissed him. Or maybe he kissed me, I don't really remember. Well, whoever started it doesn't matter, we kissed each other for awhile." I felt my face burning and sneaked a glance up at Mom. She could barely contain her smile. "Mom, please stop looking like the cat who ate the canary." She made a serious attempt to sober up. "Sorry, sweetheart." "So then Mulder got up, and suggested that I get some sleep. I hadn't been sleeping well lately, and he thought maybe I didn't know what I was doing." "Did you?" "Mom! Of course I did!" "Okay," she crooned, stroking my hair again. I leaned into her hand, grateful for the caress. I sighed (for the millionth time, it felt like) and continued. "I fell asleep in Mulder's bed---*alone*" I stressed, seeing the corners of her mouth quirk up, "And when I woke up, he had dinner ready." Mom's eyebrows shot up and I thought how much we resembled each other with that one particular facial expression. "Chinese," I said. "Oh, I was wondering when Fox had learned to cook." I laughed. "I had the same thought. It was really nice, Mom, he had wine and real plates. Which for Mulder is saying a lot." "Sounds like a very romantic evening." "It was...for awhile. We started kissing again, and really...got into it. Then I slid into the sink---" There went her eyebrows again. "The sink?" I felt myself grinning at the memory. "Yeah, it wouldn't have been so bad, except it was still full of water..." "You mean, the kitchen sink like in that awful movie where they boiled the rabbit?" "Yeah," I laughed, remembering that I had thought much the same thing. "Mulder boosted me up onto the counter, because he's so much taller than me, and I slid backwards into the sink while we were kissing." "And he got upset?" "No, not at that point. Not until I made a joke about how we couldn't even make out like normal people. Then the walls came up. He just took me home." I felt tears sting my eyes again. "He wouldn't even talk about it with me this morning, Mom, he just pretended it never happened." "Did you give him a chance to talk about it?" "He had all morning, all we did was do paperwork for Skinner until Mulder left. He said he had to run upstairs to pull some files for our new case, but later he called me from his phone and asked me to meet him somewhere. Then just as I was about to leave Skinner came in, and told me we don't *have* a new case yet. So Mulder lied to me. I just couldn't face him, Mom...so I came here." "Without telling Fox?" The tears spilled over and my voice cracked, "I was just so mad at him, Mom, for lying to me...and he *never* calls me when *he* goes running off somewhere. He just vanishes and leaves me to wonder. I wanted him to know what it felt like." "I think he already does, honey," she said softly, and I knew she was referring to my abduction. "I know," I answered, "And it was such a stupid thing to do, I didn't mean to be so cruel to him. Mulder frustrates me sometimes but this was not the way to let him know. He's going to be so angry..." "He might understand if you *talked* to him, Dana." Mom suggested. "It's so hard," I said, "Mulder puts his walls up and I can tell just by looking at his face that he's a million miles away." "You do too, sometimes, honey." "Yeah. We're both pretty good at that. Which is why a relationship with him would never work." "You won't know that unless you try." "I'd rather not try and not get hurt." Mom tipped her head to the side and looked at me questioningly. "That doesn't sound like you, Dana. You have never been afraid to take chances." "This is different, Mom. This could destroy both us." "You're both stronger than that." I shook my head. "I don't know, Mom. This scares me more than anything Mulder and I have ever been through. I could lose him forever because of this." Our conversation ended just then with a knock on the door. My stomach immediately twisted into a knot and I convulsively squeezed Mom's hand. She rose from the couch and kissed the top of my head before pulling her hand from my grasp and going to answer the door. I heard her and Mulder exchange greetings as I huddled into a corner of the couch, wishing I could just crawl under the cushions and disappear. He walked into the room alone, warily, as if expecting me to be waiting with my gun again. I winced at the thought as he came over and sat down on the other end of the couch. "Hi," he said softly. "Hi," I whispered back. "You all right?" I nodded. "Your mom left, she thought we needed some time." I nodded again. "What happened, Scully?" I gulped. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't be there." "Why not?" "Mulder, why are you pretending that last night never happened?" His eyes widened at the sudden change of topic. "Is *that* what this is about?" "Yes. Among other things." "Jesus Christ, Scully, I was out of my mind worrying about you---" I cut him off coldly, hardly believing what I was saying, "You have a funny way of showing it." "What the hell is *that* supposed to mean? I was frantic, you weren't answering your cell phone---" "I'm surprised you even remember the number." He stared at me, open-mouthed. "What is *wrong* with you?" "Nothing," I replied icily, feeling my guilt dissipate as my anger renewed itself, "It's just that you don't often do me the courtesy of keeping me informed of your whereabouts." "That's not true---" "Mulder, it *is* and you know it! How many times have you run off somewhere, leaving me to cover your ass with Skinner? He came down to the office looking for you, and once *again* I had to inform him that I had no idea where you were. You weren't running upstairs to pull files for our new case because there *is* no new case!" "So this little disappearing act was your way of getting back at me for making you look stupid in front of Skinner?" "No!" "Then what was it, Scully? Some new mind game?" "I have *never* played mind games with you, Mulder." "Oh, bullshit. That's what they sent you to the basement to do, isn't it? Fuck with my mind?" I flinched at the reference to our first meeting, when Mulder had accused me of being a spy. That was their intent, but it didn't turn out that way. I was on *his* side. Didn't he know that by now? "Mulder, you know---" He rose and towered over me, glaring. "I don't know anything, Scully! Right now I feel like I don't even know *you*. The Dana Scully *I* know would *never* have pulled a dumb stunt like this! Childish games have never been your style." He turned and stalked angrily to the door. I got to my feet, anxious to stop him from leaving in the middle of this quarrel. I always hated not being able to resolve a conflict with Mulder. I called out to him in a way I knew would freeze him in his tracks. "Fox!" It worked. He stopped, paused. Then turned back to me, his face still dark with anger. His eyes narrowed. "I told you NEVER to call me that! I'm leaving. Just stay away from me for awhile, Scully." He turned again to go, then paused with his hand on the doorknob. I hurried over, hoping he would stay and hear me out. He pulled something from his pocket. "Oh, by the way," he snarled, "You're right, I lied about there being a new case. I wasn't at the library, I was out getting you *this*." Something hit me in the face, then dropped to the floor. I leaned over to pick it up. It was a peach rose wrapped in tissue paper. It was crushed from being jammed in Mulder's pocket. I stared at it, in shock. "Mulder--" He didn't hear me. He'd already left and slammed the door. ************ End 03/?? Well, it's not as nerve-wracking as the last ending, right? Thanks to everyone who told me I was evil for doing that. I took it as a compliment:) I think this is going to have 5 parts. You'll know when I know! Feedback, kudos and candy bars welcome to <jenbird@earthlink.net>