Title: "What You Do For Me"
Author: Angela W.
Category: MSR (Mulder/Scully married)
Summary: When Mulder is at his wit's end while out-of-town investigating a case with the serial killers task force, Scully comes to visit him.
Timespan/Spoilers: This is part of my "married" series, which diverged from the "real" XF universe about midway through season seven; assume everything through the events of "Closure" has taken place, but that Mulder was never abducted and that the consummation of the MSR and the conception and birth of their child were different from the events portrayed in late season seven and beyond. No real spoilers, although there are vague references to the events of several episodes from season six or before. In my series, this story comes after "Home Again".
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.
Feedback: If it's nice or contains *constructive* criticism, feedback is valued.
Archive: Feel free to archive anywhere.
FBI Special Agent Fox Mulder rolled his shoulders as he stared at the autopsy reports in front of him. He and the other members of his serial killers task force has been in Charleston, South Carolina for a week, trying to track down a serial killer who was operating in the historic city. There were obvious religious overtones to the crimes, as the victims had all been found on the doorsteps of churches. All the victims were white, male and ranged in age from early adolescence to mid-20s.
Other than that, Mulder was stymied in his attempts to find a connection between them. His initial guess was that religion would be the common denominator, but it simply wasn't. One victim had been a devout Catholic, another an equally devout Baptist. The others had included those who professed Christian beliefs but only attended church sporadically, one who had been raised in an extremely fundamentalist church but had ignored its teachings since turning 18 and one who was pretty much an agnostic and had never - as far as Mulder had been able to ascertain - been formally affiliated with a church of any kind. He couldn't find any place or time where their paths could have crossed. They came from all socio-economic levels and had lived in the city for time periods ranging from just a few months to their entire lives.
Well, they were all single, but that was pretty much to be expected, given their ages. The youngest victim was only 11, the oldest was just 24; not many men married prior to 25 nowadays. All Mulder knew was that if he didn't find a connection or a key soon, this coming Sunday morning or one soon after, another congregation would arrive at church to find a dead body blocking their entrance to the sanctuary.
"Mulder? Why don't you go back to the motel, try to get some sleep?" Special Agent Andrew Chan suggested.
"Yeah," Mulder agreed. But as soon as he entered his hotel room, Mulder realized sleep was likely to prove elusive. He undressed anyway and lay down on the bed, but the details of the case kept flitting through his mind. Eventually he drifted off into a fitful, troubled sleep.
Several hours later, Special Agent Dana Scully woke from what had been a sound sleep with her heart pounding and sheets drenched in sweat. She felt like she'd had a nightmare but, at the same time, she didn't think the dream was hers. It must be Mulder's, she realized.
While Scully was usually a skeptic when it came to paranormal processes like dream communication, she'd stop fighting the fact that she could sometimes tap into her husband's subconscious while they were both asleep, no matter how far away they were from each other physically. It had simply happened too often for her to ignore it or explain it away as coincidence.
Scully reached for the cell phone beside their bed and pushed the first button on the speed dial.
Mulder tossed restlessly as the faceless killer advanced upon him. There were church bells ringing in the background.
Suddenly he realized that the sound wasn't bells, but his cell phone. Now awake, but with the dream still vivid in his mind, Mulder reached for it. "Mulder," he muttered.
"Mulder, it's me. You need me down there, don't you?"
If he'd had a few minutes to compose himself, Mulder would have thanked his wife for her concern but waived off her offer. But he was still half asleep and still frightened by the adversary his subconscious had supplied. "Please. Come to me, Scully."
By mid-morning, Scully and their daughter, Melissa, were on their way. Scully actually enjoyed the chance to do some interstate driving. Despite the fact that she and Mulder differed from the stereotypical married couple in many fashions, they clung to the traditional sex roles when it came to driving. If they were both in the car, her husband was the one behind the wheel about 98 percent of the time.
They stopped for lunch at a fast food restaurant that provided an attached playground where Melissa could toddle and play in a ball pit after eating. As soon as they were back on the highway, the baby's dark curls began to nod and soon she was asleep. She didn't waken again until her mother had pulled into the parking lot of the motel.
"Come on, sweetie, let's go see Daddy," Scully said, lifting the little girl out of her car seat.
"Daddy?" Melissa asked, her face lighting up. However, after stopping by the front desk to pick up the key card her husband had left for her, Scully reached the room and realized her husband was nowhere in sight. Probably off interviewing the family member of one of the victims or viewing the site where one of the bodies had been found, she thought. Melissa wandered around the room, looking behind curtains and in closets, saying, "Daddy?" at regular intervals, as if she suspected her father of playing hide and seek with her.
"He's not here yet, Melissa," Scully explained. "But soon."
It was well into the evening hours when Mulder and the rest of his crew finally returned to the hotel. Mulder was tired, angry and frustrated. The feelings abated, however, when he spied a familiar car in the parking lot. He practically ran down the corridor to his room.
As soon as he opened the door, a small figure clad only in a diaper and smelling of innocence hurled herself into his arms. "Daddy!"
Mulder tried to return the enthusiastic kisses his daughter was showering on his face and, at the same time, scan the room for his wife. He felt a gentle touch on his back, just below his neck. "You're tense, lover. Why don't you take off your shirt and I'll give you a back rub?"
"As soon as Melissa lets go of me. I think I'm in danger of being loved to death here," Mulder replied with a chuckle.
They eventually managed to make it to one of the two double beds in the room, where a nearly naked Melissa and a shirtless Mulder stretched out beside each other. Scully straddled her husband's hips and began working her hands along the knotted muscles of his spine.
"Daddy!" she said triumphantly, patting her father's cheek. Scully had the amused notion that their daughter actually believed Mulder had been in the room all along, but that she had only "found" him after emerging from her bath.
"Woof-woof, key-cat," she said in a solemn tone.
"Uh, you want to translate for me, Mommy?" Mulder said then let out a low moan as Scully put a little more pressure into the tight muscles between his shoulders.
"I think she's trying to tell you that Elvis chased a kitty cat out of our yard this morning," Scully explained.
After massaging her husband's back until the tension was gone, Scully slid off the bed and said, "I'm going to take a bath. Why don't you see if you can persuade our little near-nudist here to put on her pajamas, then sing her to sleep?"
"Will do," Mulder agreed.
When Scully finally emerged from the bathroom - with Mulder there to watch Melissa, she hadn't thought it necessary to do the usual rush job while she kept alert for the sound of her daughter - she found father and daughter snuggled together on the bed with their eyes closed. Melissa was asleep, but still clad in only her diaper. Oh well, Scully thought with a smile, one out of two wasn't bad.
Scully assumed Mulder was asleep, too. She was glad; he needed some rest. She was debating whether she wanted to try to squeeze into the same bed as the rest of her family or lay down in the other one when her husband opened his eyes and smiled at her. Bringing a finger to his lips to indicate they should be quiet, he slowly slid Melissa's arm off his chest and stood up. Melissa gurgled for a moment, but her father pulled the covers up around her and stroked her cheek gently, and she settled back down to sleep.
Mulder stood up and stretched and Scully was struck anew by how *big* her husband was. Not just his height, but his broad chest with its mat of crisp hair in the middle, his well muscled arms and his incredibly long, strong legs. With a grin, he reached out to touch her and with a single flick of his dexterous fingers, the towel she'd had wrapped around her was on the floor.
Not to be outdone, Scully reached for his belt buckle and quickly unfastened it. She slid his slacks and boxer-briefs - the only two items of clothing he was still wearing - down to his feet and he stepped out of them. Mulder pulled the covers down on the empty bed and gestured with his hand, as if to say, "After you, my dear." Scully slid in and scooted over, so that Mulder had room to lay beside her.
It wasn't until after they were both in bed that she spoke. "I thought you were asleep. You looked tired."
"I am. But I haven't even had a chance to kiss you hello yet; somebody else was monopolizing my attention."
"Yes, I know, but she's asleep now," Scully pointed out.
Mulder brought his mouth down to hers and Scully felt the familiar rush of wetness between her legs as his tongue began a leisurely exploration. After being married to Mulder for nearly three years and having given birth to his daughter over a year ago, it was amazing that a simple kiss could still turn her on this much, she thought hazily, with the small part of her brain that was still functioning.
Of course, it *had* been nearly a week since the last kiss. And they *were* naked. When Mulder eventually lifted his mouth from hers, Scully gave a small whimper.
"Shh!" Mulder whispered, his voice amused in her ear. "We're going to have to be quiet; Melissa's asleep not five feet away."
"I know," Scully whispered back. "I love you. And I missed you."
"I love you, too. Thanks for coming down. I probably shouldn't have asked, but I was going nuts without you."
"So what else is new, Mulder?" she replied with a smile, only to have to bite her lip to keep from groaning when he began to nip at her neck. Scully managed to keep quiet - although her breathing was ragged - as her husband licked her breasts and stroked her back, bottom and thighs.
When she moved her hand between his legs, though, she was surprised to find he was still small, not hard and engorged as she'd expected. "Fox? Do you want me to use my mouth?" she inquired, beginning to slide down the bed.
Sure," he replied.
However, after several minutes, he still hadn't sprung to attention and he lifted her back up so that their faces were side by side on the pillow. "Sorry about that Dana," he murmured.
"It's okay, Fox. You're over 40 now. This is going to happen once in a while especially when you're under the kind of stress you've been dealing with during the past week. The important thing is not obsess about it." Scully would have kept on talking, but her husband stopped his fingers pressed gently against her lips.
"Thank you for the medical information, Dr. Scully. I'm well aware that most middle-aged men experience occasional episodes of impotence and that, unless it happens frequently, it's not anything to worry about. And, actually, an inability to get an immediate erection every single time I want one isn't going to make me feel like I'm less of a man than the twentysomething guys on my squad or rush out to my doctor and demand a prescription for viagra. The question now is, what can I do for you?"
"Fox, you don't have to do anything! I'm just so glad to be with you, to hold you."
"Damn it, Scully, don't do this to me!" Mulder hissed. Scully had the feeling he would have shouted if it hadn't been for their daughter asleep in the same room.
"Lie to me about sex. Issue the equivalent of "I'm fine, Mulder", when you're practically throbbing with unfulfilled sexual tension! Because, while the inability to get an erection might not harm my sense of manhood, leaving my wife restless and unsatisfied damned sure will. You want to come, Dana. You *need* to come. I can see it in your eyes, feel it dripping onto my fingers. . .hell, Scully, I can *smell* it!"
Scully let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "You're right, Mulder. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you. . .even though simply holding you *does* make me happy. But. . ." "What?" he murmured. "Would you use your mouth, please?"
Mulder flashed her a grin and murmured, "C'mere." Then he pulled Scully up so that she was straddling his face and he had her ass cupped in his hands. Scully reached out to grab the headboard as she lowered herself onto her husband's mouth. While Mulder frequently performed oral sex on her, this position was unusual. Generally, she was lying on her back with her head on the pillow while he knelt between her legs. Or, if they were engaging in mutual oral-genital stimulation, she'd lie on top of him. But to simply sit on his face like this. . .it seemed a bit like a scene from one of those movies Mulder had watched back in their pre-marital partnership days; the ones that weren't his.
Still, Scully realized this felt awfully good. His tongue could angle deeper inside her in this position than it usually did and his nose was getting into the act, too. She flexed and arched and felt the familiar quivering begin between her legs. Mulder brought one of his fingers around to join the party and she came against him with a shudder, biting her lip hard to keep from making any noise.
As Mulder repositioned her so that she was snuggled in his arms, with her face next to his on the pillow, he flashed her a smug smile. "See, Scully? Isn't honesty the best policy?"
"Mmm. Yes. I love you. Sleep now."
The next morning, Mulder awoke drenched in sweat from another nightmare about the killer. This time it apparently hadn't transmitted itself to Scully, as she lay sleeping soundly in his arms. He realized he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, but at least he felt more refreshed than he had for several mornings. He slid out of bed and pulled on a tank top and jogging shorts, then put on his running shoes.
"Mulder?" Scully murmured sleepily. "Going out for a run. I'll be back in a bit, then we'll go down to breakfast after I shower."
Scully nodded and buried her face in the pillow that still bore his scent, trying to grab an extra few minutes of sleep. As the mother of a toddler and with a job that, despite only requiring her to work three days a week demanded her full concentration when she was in the labs, she'd learned to grab every moment of rest she could.
However, just as she had fallen fully back asleep, the phone rang. "Hello?" she answered, her voice still husky with sleep.
"Er, I'm trying to contact Special Agent Fox Mulder. Do I have the right room?" a male voice inquired. It was vaguely familiar to Scully, but she wasn't yet awake enough to put a name to it.
"Yes," Scully said, still not functioning enough to identify the voice.
"I'll call back later," the voice replied.
As soon as she hung up, Scully heard Melissa give her usual morning greeting of "Mommy! Up! Up!" and slid out of bed to change her daughter's diaper and get them both dressed for the day.
Special Agents Tom Colton and Andrew Chan were sitting in the hotel dining room engaging in a furious, albeit soft-voiced, debate. "I'm telling you, Spooky picked up some woman for the night!" Colton said. "I called his room and a woman answered. And it wasn't a wrong number, because I *asked* if it was Fox Mulder's room and she said yes!"
"Colton, for all you know it was the maid!" Chan snapped back.
"She sounded awfully sleepy for a maid," Colton replied with a sneer. "And have you ever heard of a hotel maid starting her housekeeping routine before seven in the morning?"
"I'm sure there's an explanation," Chan replied. "In any case, it isn't your business, my business or the business of anyone on the task force except Agent Mulder."
"It's Agent Scully's business," Colton pointed out. "I'm a friend of hers; we went through the Academy together. If her husband makes a habit of having sex with strangers when he goes out-of-town for business, she has a right to know. It's not just a matter of morality, it's a matter of her health. Some sexually transmitted diseases can kill, you know."
"I'm aware of that," Chan said, his voice tight. "Look, if you really think it's necessary to inform Agent Scully of your suspicions - and remember, that's all they are, suspicions - fine, tell her. But only her. If I find out you've been spreading rumors throughout the task force or to other members of the bureau. . ."
Before Chan could finish his sentence, Mulder walked in. . .hand-in-hand with Scully and with their daughter in his arms.
When Scully spied Colton, her face seemed to light up. "Colton! It was you who called our room this morning, wasn't it? I'm sorry I sounded so spacey."
"Colton, you are a *complete* idiot," Chan muttered, too quietly for Mulder and Scully to hear. Actually, he was annoyed with himself for not thinking of the rational explanation: that the woman most likely to be asleep in Mulder's bed was his wife.
As the other agents who were members of the task force joined them for breakfast, most greeted Scully with little surprise and Melissa with expressions of delight.
"I didn't know you were going to be joining us on this investigation, Agent Scully," Agent Donna Briggs - the only female agent on Mulder's force - said politely. "I mean. . .all the bodies have already been autopsied."
Scully shrugged. "I'm not really here in an official capacity, although I suppose I could do some lab work if it should become necessary. But, as you can see, I brought our daughter with me. The only way I'd be free to work would be for Mulder to stay here at the hotel and keep an eye on Melissa. Since he's the head of the task force, that hardly seems a good idea."
"Well, we're glad to have you," Agent Charles Guillbeau said. "Agent Mulder seems to think more clearly when you're around."
"Amen to that," Mulder replied with a nod.
Scully spent the morning walking through the historic district of the lovely seaside city. There were several public parks full of azaleas and magnolias where she let Melissa get out of the stroller and wander around. Just when Scully was about to head back for the hotel for lunch, her cell phone rang. "Scully."
"Hey, are my two favorite girls free for lunch?" Mulder asked.
"You bet. Where do you want us to meet you?"
"There's a seafood restaurant right on the shore, a few blocks from our hotel. I figured you'd like that, my little beach bunny."
"Mulder, I *sincerely* hope no other members of your team can overhear this conversation!"
"What, you don't want to be nicknamed Agent Beach Bunny?" "I think I'll stick with Mrs. Spooky, thank you very much. See you in a bit."
During lunch, Mulder shared his frustrations and information about the case with his wife. "So what's your theory, Mulder?"
"At this point, I don't have one, Scully. The fact that all the victims were found on church steps practically screams 'religious mania' but, like I said, other than the fact that all of them were at least vaguely Christian in their beliefs there's no common denominator. And, let's face it, in the Deep South you're not going to find too may Buddhists, outright atheists or whatever."
Scully noticed that the waitress -- a nondescript woman in her early 20s, with mousy brown hair and hint of acne on her chin -- was listening to their conversation with rapt attention. Scully assumed she was just curious. Mulder's holstered weapon was in plain view just under his shoulder and he'd told his wife he'd been on several of the local newscasts a couple of nights earlier, asking that anyone with information or suspicions about the case call him at the Charleston Police Headquarters.
After they'd finished eating and paid the bill, Mulder asked Scully what she planned to do for the rest of the day. "Well, I think Melissa's ready for a nap; after that, she and I will probably go for a walk on the beach."
"I don't know when I'll be back at the hotel, Scully. Probably not 'til late. I guess it was sort of selfish of me to ask you to come down here, then leave you on your own for most of the day and evening."
Scully shook her head. "You're working, Mulder. I'm a big girl and it's not like I don't have companionship," she said, letting her hand rest briefly on Melissa's downy cheek. "Even when we worked together full-time, on the X-Files, it's not like we were side-by-side all day everyday. Lots of times we'd go our separate ways for hours on end, you to interview suspects and me to perform autopsies. Call me if you need me, otherwise don't worry."
"Right. Bye," he murmured dropping quick kisses on Dana's and Melissa's cheeks in turn.
Several hours later, refreshed from their naps, Scully and her daughter sat on a pier, tossing bits of stale bread to the seagulls and pelicans that circled the wharf. Melissa squealed with delight every time one of the birds dive-bombed the water.
Scully was so intent on the birds and her daughter, that she paid little attention to the rest of her surroundings. She was in "Mommy-mode" not "FBI Agent-mode". The first she was aware of the presence of another person on the pier was when a voice sounded a few inches above her ear. "Hey. Lady."
Scully turned with a start and found the waitress who had served them at lunch squatting behind her. "Yes?"
"That man you were with at lunch. The handsome, dark-haired guy. He's your husband?"
"Yes," Scully replied, trying to quickly assess the situation. The three of them were alone on the pier. If she placed herself between Melissa and the waitress, Melissa would be perilously close to the edge. But she didn't feel comfortable leaving her daughter between the two of them. She reached out and scooped Melissa into her lap, trying to make the gesture seem casual.
"He's an FBI Agent, right? Sent down here to investigate all these killings of the young guys."
"That's right," Scully replied.
"There's a place called Joe's. A comic book and trading card shop not far from downtown. Tell him to check out the owner." After saying that, the woman turned and walked quickly back to the esplanade.
Scully balanced Melissa on one hip while she whipped out her cell phone and hit the first number on the speed dial. "Mulder, it's me," she said when the familiar voice answered on the other end. "I think I may have a lead for you."
It was well past midnight, but Scully couldn't sleep. Mulder had called her once, a couple of hours after she'd called him, to tell her that he was going to be staking out the place she'd mentioned and that he'd be turning the ringer off on his cell phone. She and Melissa had eaten supper, then she'd bathed the baby and read to her.
After that, she and her daughter had indulged in the rare treat of watching cartoons together in bed; at home, Scully was strict about limiting Melissa's TV watching to no more than an hour per day, but on vacation -- without the usual distractions of a houseful of toys and a playful dog --she tended to relax her standards a bit.
Melissa had been asleep for hours, however, and Scully had had little to do but channel surf and pace the room. She was restless and would have liked to go out for a run or a swim but, of course, that was impossible; she couldn't leave her daughter alone.
Finally, just when Scully had decided she'd better lay down and at least attempt to get some sleep, so that she wouldn't be a zombie when Melissa awoke at the break of dawn the next morning, the door inched quietly open. Scully had a frisson of fear before she recognized the familiar tall frame in the doorway.
"Hi, Fox," she said softly, trying not to startle him.
"Dana? You're still awake? I thought you'd have gone to sleep hours ago!"
"I was worried about you. And curious about the case."
"I'm fine and the case is solved."
"Tell me about it," she invited, patting the spot beside her in bed.
"Give me a minute in the bathroom, then I'll give you all the details," he agreed.
Mulder was as good as his word. Barely a minute later, stripped down to his boxer-briefs and smelling faintly of toothpaste, he slid into bed beside Scully. He leaned down and kissed her gently, then said, "You're a genius, you know that?"
"Because I had an entire task force down here for a full week and we didn't make an inch worth's of progress on this case. You wander into town and before you're here for more than 24 hours, people are crawling out of the woodwork to give you vital clues that allow us to make an arrest. I think the wrong member of this family heads up my division."
"Well, Melissa's too little to work full-time and I don't want to," Scully replied. "Besides, I'm not sure what it is I actually *did*. The waitress recognized you from TV and she had some vital information to impart about the case. She approached me instead of you, because. . .well. . ."
"I don't know why, but I could take a guess," Mulder said. "For some reason men, perhaps particularly men in positions of authority, like law enforcement officers, frighten her. There could any number of reasons for it: she could be a victim of rape, or domestic violence or God only knows what else. But you're a woman. Not just a woman, a mother with a beautiful baby girl. You're the very definition of gentle and trustworthy. So she approached you when she couldn't bring herself to approach me."
"So what did you find out, Mulder? What weird religious obsession led to this man - Joe, I'm presuming - killing all these boys and young men?"
"Nothing, Scully. There was no religious obsession, no sexual angle, nothing -- speaking as a criminal profiler -- particularly interesting about these crimes. It was all smoke and mirrors. These were crimes for profit, pure and simple. What I learned was: collectibles can be a cutthroat industry. Joe was apparently a loner with few friends and no close family members. He prided himself on having the most extensive and valuable collection of comic books and trading cards, with some of the rarest items, in the entire southeastern section of the United States. Occasionally, when somebody approached him offering to sell him an item he couldn't afford but that he really wanted, he'd arrange for them to come back at a time when he'd be alone in the store. Then he'd kill them, take the item, and dump the body."
"But why on the steps of churches, Mulder?"
"Apparently, people like me have received a bit too much publicity in the last few years. He figured that by leaving the victims on church steps, I'd jump to exactly the conclusion I did - that there had to be a warped, religious angle to the crimes. I almost forgot the most fundamental question every investigator is supposed to ask about every crime: who benefits financially."
"So everything's wrapped up?"
"Pretty much so," Mulder replied. Then gave a huge yawn, glanced over at his daughter asleep in the neighboring bed, spooned Scully up next to him, and was snoring in her ear in less than a minute.
Scully smiled softly as she snuggled down in his arms. As a doctor, she knew exactly what had just happened: the adrenalin rush that had been fueling her husband during the investigation had given out and he'd crashed.
It was early afternoon of the following day before the various members of the task force were able to begin traveling back to Washington. Most of the members were flying from Charleston to Dulles, but Mulder had elected to drive back with Scully and Melissa. They'd been on the road for several hours, and were discussing whether they should begin looking for a place to stop for dinner now or wait until Melissa - currently asleep in her car seat in the back - woke up.
For the past thirty miles, they'd been driving in rain, but it was becoming heavier by the minute. "God, Mulder! This is almost as bad as that time you tried to drive through the hurricane in Florida."
"Where's Arthur Dales when you really need him?" Mulder muttered.
After a few more minutes, Mulder spied a rest area and pulled over. "I'm not even going to try to drive in this. There's no reason. We'll just wait here 'til it lets up. If Melissa wakes up. . .well, you've got juice and snacks and stuff in her diaper bag, the way you always do. It's not like she'll starve."
"So what do you suggest we do in the meantime, Mulder?"
"We could always make out," he suggested. Then he waited for the usual eye-rolling or for Scully to point out that Melissa was sleeping only a few feet away.
Instead there was a long moment of silence, then the sound of Scully's seatbelt being released and her seat being pushed back as far as it would go. "I think it would work better if you came over here. And, Fox, you do realize that if Melissa wakes up we'll have to quit immediately, no matter how, er, far along things are? We don't want to warp her for life."
"Actually," Mulder said slowly, easing over to Scully's seat and lifting her up so that she was sitting in his lap, "I've read that almost all kids walk in on their parents making love at least once during their childhood. As long as what they witness is normal, loving sex - nothing involving violence or humiliation - it doesn't do them a bit of harm. They just block it out of their memories. Some psychologists even say that those subconscious, buried memories of parental sex form the building blocks of our own sexual behavior when we're adults. But, yes, of course we'll quit if we realize Melissa is awake and watching us."
"So, Fox, when you were undergoing all your hypnoregression therapy back to your childhood days, did you discover any memories of parental sex in there with the aliens?" Scully asked as she settled herself more comfortably on her husband's lap and began unbuttoning his shirt so that she could slide her hand inside and caress his well-muscled chest.
"Please, Dana! If you don't want me to have a repeat of the problem I suffered the other night, don't bring my parents into this conversation."
"You were lucky," Scully pointed out. "You only had one sibling; you could allow yourself to believe that your parents had only had sex twice. Once I had learned the facts of life, I was forced to acknowledge that Mom and Dad had "done it" at least four times!"
"I'm not too wild about the idea of bringing *your* parents into this conversation, either," Mulder said. Then, deciding that there was an obvious solution to keep her from talking, he brought Scully's mouth to his in a forceful kiss. It was deep and passionate, similar to the one they'd shared so many years ago -- and despite Scully insistence that it was all a dream, he still believed they'd really been there -- on the Queen Mary.
This time, however, when the kiss ended she didn't punch him. Instead she sighed deeply and said, "I love you, Mulder. Kiss me again, please."
"I love you, too, Scully," he replied, before doing as she'd asked. He let his hand glide down to her breast and began stroking her nipple through the double layer of her dress and bra.
When they came up for air again, she whispered, "I can't feel you enough." Pushing herself a bit away from his body, she unbuttoned the bodice of her dress and reached behind her back to unhook her bra. Then she replaced his hand on her breast and wiggled ecstatically on his lap as he pinched her nipple lightly.
Mulder grinned at her enthusiastic response and slid his hand to the other breast. He knew she'd pout if both didn't receive equal attention. Scully zeroed in on his neck and began licking and nipping at it. "This seems awfully familiar," Scully murmured.
"We've done something vaguely similar a few time before," Mulder replied, his tongue delicately tracing the outline of her ear.
"I don't mean the sexy stuff," Scully explained. "I mean being in a car with you while it's pouring down raining outside. Is it just my imagination, or did it rain an awful lot the first year we worked the X-Files together?"
"Every single, damned case," Mulder confirmed. "A lesser woman would have taken it as a sign from God to get as far away as she could, as fast as she could."
"I've always liked the rain," Scully replied with a sigh. "And I liked you phoning me late at night, right before I went to sleep. . .did I ever tell you that?"
"Mmm. No, but you never told me to stop calling you at that ungodly hour, so I figured you didn't mind too much." Mulder moved his hand up under her dress to squeeze her bottom lightly. Only the wispy lace of her panties separated their skin. "Dana, how far did you want to take things? I mean, are we just making out or. . ."
"Or am I going to let you go all the way?" she whispered, an teasing glint in her eyes.
"Yeah. Tonight I'm primed and ready."
"I sort of noticed that Mulder. I'm sitting directly on the evidence."
"So. . .?"
"Is Melissa still asleep?"
Mulder craned his head back to look at his daughter's face. "Yep. Her eyes are closed. Besides it's almost dark in here, even if she wakes up she's not going to be able to see much. And all she'd see anyway, from the angle she's at, is you sitting on my lap and me kissing you; she sees that all the time."
"Okay, pull off my panties." Mulder bit back a groan as he hooked his fingers in the elastic at her hips and slowly eased them down. Scully knew how much he liked to be the one to remove her clothes. Of course, she was doing the same thing to him, yanking off his shirt and fumbling for the zipper in his shorts.
Once she had him in hand and he had her panties off, she slowly eased herself down on him. The confines of the car didn't leave much room for maneuvering, but he set up a gentle rocking motion that bounced her bare bottom softly against his thighs and brushed her breasts against the wiry hair on his chest.
After a few minutes, Scully moaned softly in his ear and came with a shudder that ran through her body all the way from her widened eyes to her twitching toes. Normally, this position wasn't the easiest one in the world for Mulder to climax in, but he let the sound of the rain drumming on the roof and his wife's earlier comments bring him back to the time when having his pretty partner bare-assed in his lap while he fucked the living daylights out of her had seemed to be an impossible dream. . .and the fact that it was really happening, rather than just a sexual fantasy, pushed him over the edge.
Scully was dozing in his arms, his now softening cock still partially inside her, when two things happened almost simultaneously. The rain came to an abrupt halt and a small voice called out "Mommy?"
"Yes, Melissa," Scully said automatically, reaching out to touch her daughter's petal-soft cheek.
"Up!" Melissa demanded.
"You can't get up, sweetie," Scully explained. "We're still in the car. But soon we'll stop to eat and you can get out."
"Up!" Melissa repeated.
"You heard Mommy, Melissa," Mulder said. "No 'up' until we've reached a restaurant or a motel."
"Daddy?" Melissa said, her small voice sounding puzzled. Although she lacked the verbal skills to come out with words she needed, the tone of her voice made it clear that she was trying to say, "Daddy, why are you in Mommy's seat instead of behind the wheel?"
"Daddy was just taking a little break from driving," Mulder explained, sliding his hands between his body and his wife's to zip up his pants. He reached for his shirt and pulled it back on, then shifted back into his seat. "As soon as Mommy buckles back up, we'll start driving again. When we stop for dinner, we'll get you some French fries."
"Fies!" Melissa shouted, clapping her hands enthusiastically.
"Just a minute," Scully replied, feeling around the floorboard of the car to find her panties, then easing them back on before she rebuckled her seat belt. "Okay, let's roll."
Several days later, Scully was at work when she received a notice to report to Section Chief Kersh that afternoon. Wonder what he wants now, she thought idly. The man had been a thorn in the sides of both her and Mulder since several years before their marriage. She didn't have to deal with him much any more, now that she was out at Quantico, and Skinner usually ran interference between Mulder and Kersh, since he was Mulder's direct supervisor.
Still, when an FBI section chief requested your presence, every agent in the bureau knew it was a "request" that had best be honored if you hoped to keep your job. When Scully reported to headquarters that afternoon, she wasn't surprised to see her husband in Kersh's outer office, as well. What *did* surprise her was the presence of Agent Guilbeau, Mulder's second-in- command on the serial killers task force.
"Just out of curiousity, Mulder, what are you in trouble for now?" Scully inquired as she sat down beside him.
"This time around, I honestly have no idea," he replied.
"Agents. Come into my office," Kersh said at that moment.
Once they were all seated, Mulder asked, "Is there some problem with my report, sir? We apprehended the killer of all those boys and young men in Charleston."
"So you did," Kersh replied. "But yes, I do have a problem. In your report, you say that the decision to run surveillance on the storeowner who turned out to be the alleged murderer was based on information provided to Agent Scully by an informant who approached her anonymously. What I want to know is: what the hell was Agent Scully doing in Charleston in the first place? Unless someone forgot to inform me, she wasn't assigned to that case."
"She. . .I" Mulder and Scully began, both trying to speak at the same time.
"Agent Mulder, please. Allow Dr. Scully to speak," Kersh said.
"I don't work on Fridays, so I have a three-day weekend. Melissa - that's our daughter - and I wanted to go down to Charleston. I drove my personal vehicle and paid for all of my and Melissa's expenses out of my own pocket. I didn't miss any of the days I was supposed to be working out at Quantico, so I'm confused as to exactly what the problem is, sir."
"Why did you want to go to Charleston, Agent Scully?"
"Because Melissa and I were lonely for our Daddy," Scully replied with icy composure.
"I see," Kersh replied.
"May I speak now?" Mulder inquired, the clenched muscles in his jaw the only proof of how perilously close he was to losing his temper.
"Certainly," Kersh answered.
"Agent Scully came down at my specific request. Not as an agent but as my wife. Because I was going nuts down there. Profiling is a dirty, tricky business. Sometimes it can drag the profiler right to the edge of sanity. Sometimes, as with Bill Patterson, it can drag you right over the abyss into insanity. You know that as well as I do. Criminal profiling has the highest burnout rate of any job category within the bureau. I realize some people around here already question my grip on my sanity, but I don't want it to get any looser than it is. So if you're going to bust someone's ass for this, bust mine, not Scully's. She doesn't deserve this. She's never once called *me* to come out to Quantico and hold her hand while she performs an autopsy. She's perfectly capable of doing doing her job without my help. I'm the one who's incapable of doing mine without spousal support," Mulder snapped.
"That is, at least, an honest appraisal of the situation," Kersh said. "Agent Mulder, you are temporarily suspended from all duties until a psychiatric evaluation can be completed to see if you're fit for your current assignment. Special Agent Guilbeau, you're to take over command of the serial task killers task force."
"No." Mulder, Scully and Kersh all stared at Guilbeau in surprise. It was the first word he'd spoken so far.
"What did you say, Agent Guilbeau?" Kersh inquired.
"I said no," Guilbeau repeated, rising to his full height and leaning both hands on Kersh's desk to look him straight in the eye. The two men were the same age and race, but that was where the similarities ended. Kersh was a desk jockey who hadn't been in the field in over a decade, while Guilbeau was an active investigative agent with a long history of undercover assignments. He was also several inches taller and a several pounds heavier - all of it muscle - than his supervisor.
"I will not take Agent Mulder's position away from him due to your vindictiveness," Guilbeau continued. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, the purpose of the FBI going down there was to find out who was killing those kids. We did that. If Agent Mulder needed to call in his wife to make that happen, I'm okay with that. Hell, if the two of them needed to have sex on the beach to make it happen, I would, personally, volunteer to babysit their daughter so they could get on with it!"
"That's part of the problem," Kersh snapped. "We can't have
agents using out-of-town assignments to indulge in second honeymoons."
"Not that it's really any of your business, Kersh, but if it will put your mind at ease, I can give you my word that Scully and I didn't have sex while we were in South Carolina working on the case together," Mulder chimed in.
He was actually busy fighting down the amazement that had arisen at Guilbeau's spirited defense of his actions. Mulder knew he was respected by the other members of his task force. But - with the major exception of Scully - he'd always thought of himself as outside the close-knit community of fellow agents. He'd never thought he'd see the day when anyone other than Scully, except possibly Skinner, would stand up for him this way.
"Mulder is the best profiler I've ever seen," Guilbeau continued. "And that includes the legendary Frank Black, with whom I had the privilege to work early in my career. Mulder's not only doing his own job, he's mentoring Special Agent Andrew Chan to the point where Chan may be able to take over the task force in another ten years or so. Right now, there's nobody else who's capable of doing the job. Oh, Tom Colton would probably jump at the chance to head it up if you offered it to him, but he'd do a piss-poor job at it. So, I'm not taking over. Mulder's my boss. If you take him off the serial killers task force and assign him to do wire taps and manure checks, then I'll do that right along with him. If you assign him back to his beloved X-Files, tracking down aliens and werewolves, then I guess I'll load up on my supply of silver bullets. Am I making myself clear, sir?"
Kersh took a deep breath. He knew when he was beaten. Other than Guilbeau, none of the other agents on the task force had the skills and experience to head it up. And, as much as he disliked Mulder personally, he had a grudging respect for any boss who could inspire this sort of loyalty in his team members.
"Fine," Kersh said. "But I'll be watching you. All three of you. Dismissed."
As the three agents walked down the corridor together, Mulder said, "Guilbeau. . .thanks. I appreciate it. But I hope you know what you're doing. You've just made yourself a powerful enemy." "I'm aware of that, Mulder," Guilbeau replied. "But I think I've also made a couple of important allies - two agents who may be a bit out of the bureau mainstream, but whose loyalty to their friends and bravery in assisting them is worth having."
"Thank you, Guilbeau."
"I meant what I said, Agent Scully. Having you on a case with us always makes things go more smoothly."
"Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off," Mulder told his employee. "I think Scully and I will just head on home from here. It's almost four already."
Guilbeau nodded and left them
As they approached their car, Scully said, "You were kind of splitting hairs in there with Kersh, weren't you? I mean, technically we didn't have *intercourse* while we were in South Carolina, but. . ."
Mulder shrugged and gave her a grin. "Hey, I'm just following the lead of a former Commander in Chief. President Clinton's the one who set the standards for oral sex not being the same thing as having sex. If it worked for him, I figure us rank-and-file government employees can use the same argument."
Scully smiled, rolled her eyes and shook her head just fractionally. "Get in the car, Mulder. Let's go home."
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