From: "Kate M." <sibcat@concentric.net>

Catharsis
part 2
F/F, Scully/Other

AUTHOR: Kate M. <sibcat@concentric.net>
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: Some dark stuff, but not much in this bit.

See Part 1 for disclaimers and copyright info.


--start part 2--
******
Thursday, May 27, 1999
3:12 a.m.
Scully's apartment


<<She runs down the hall, as she has so many times before.  The room
is behind her now.  The cold dull walls and the slot in the door are
behind her.  They are behind her as she runs.  She runs and runs to
keep them behind her.

But when she turns to look over her shoulder, she can still see them,
the slot in the door and the door and the room, they are behind her,
but they are right behind her, as if she has only just stepped through
the door, as if she has run only three or four steps, three or four
very tiny steps.  She runs faster and squints into the blackness ahead
of her, trying to distinguish something, a shape, a glint of light,
anything.  She runs harder.

She is too afraid to look over her shoulder again.  She simply runs.>>

<<>>

Scully awoke with a start, sweating, shaking.  She'd had the dream
every few nights since she'd regained her freedom.  Just when she
thought she'd had it for the last time, it would come back, darker,
more urgent, somehow even more unsettling than before.

And it exhausted her.  Despite her terror, her clenching heart, the
dots of sweat on her face, her seized-up muscles, she could never stay
awake after the dream.  Her eyelids would fall and she'd settle back
down in the too-warm bed, unable to resist.  Her brain would fight,
fearing the dream would only start up again, but her body would drag
her back down into thick, muddy sleep.

Her fears of returning to sleep were usually justified.  Tonight the
dream began again almost immediately, and she ran, not daring to look
over her shoulder, unable to move her heavy legs and burning feet any
faster than they were already moving.

<<She heard a scream and almost turned around to see who was
screaming, before she realized it was her own terrified howl.

Suddenly she fell.  No; suddenly, the ground she was running on fell
away.  She tumbled into blackness, her arms and legs cutting wide
useless swaths of air, and she heard that disembodied scream again,
her own.  She seemed to fall forever.  She finally closed her eyes,
unable to keep looking down at nothing.

And then she was underwater, under warm water, and she pulled her eyes
as far open as they would go.

The water was clear, clean, calm.  She paddled her way back up to the
surface.

The sun was shockingly bright.  She squinted up at the sapphire sky
and tried to get her bearings.  She was in a calm lake, surrounded on
all sides by lush plants, unbelievably vibrant greens and reds, and
solid, comforting cliffs, ancient, quiet grey.

The room and the door and the slot in the door were nowhere to be
seen.

She felt herself start to cry with joy.

She swam a little, enjoying the therapeutic feel of the gently
resisting water against her tired muscles.  She glanced around,
finding it hard to believe she really was free of the darkness and the
cold tiny room.  She floated on her back, and it was only when she did
so that she realized she was naked.  The realization made her laugh, a
hearty gurgly laugh.

She rolled over and swam some more, then dog-paddled a bit.  She tried
to decide where the nearest shore was, but it seemed she was precisely
in the middle of the lake.

When she turned to look to her left, she saw a figure, too far away to
identify, but close enough to look familiar.

For some reason, she was not afraid.

The figure began to swim toward her, and she slowly began to swim
toward it as well.  As the distance between them closed, she realized
who it was, and swam faster.

"Dr. Scully."  The braids, the wide smile, the kind chocolate eyes.

Scully smiled broadly.  "You're calling me 'Dr. Scully' now?  What
happened to 'Dana'?"

"What happened to Dana? Well, she's just come home, I think." Gwen
suddenly held her wrist high in the air and looked at her watch, the
watch that was identical to Scully's.  Gwen smiled.  "It's high time
she arrived."

Scully reached out her arms and pulled Gwen close.  She kissed her
fully and deeply, wrapping her legs around Gwen, feeling her warmth
even in the warm water.

She broke away laughing, joy-filled.  She swam with Gwen to the shore
and made love to her on warm moss-covered rocks. She kissed her again
and again, as long as possible and everywhere possible, savoring her
skin, relishing her.>>


<<>>

Scully awoke with a start again, but she was not sweating this time,
nor was her head pounding.  She put the fuzzy pieces of the dream back
together in her head, and rolled her eyes when she realized what she'd
been doing in her subconscious.

"Great," she muttered, rolling onto her stomach and pushing her face
into the pillow.  "One session and I'm already hot for my shrink.
What a cliche."

******



Thursday, May 27, 1999
7:30 p.m.
Scully's apartment

*Beep.*

Scully kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the couch, expecting to
hear another of Mulder's dizzying, agitated messages.

"Dana, this is Gwen Wilson."  The voice was quiet but clear--clearer
than her answering machine usually managed to be.

Scully sat up.  She hadn't forgotten her dream, and the sound of
Gwen's voice brought it back into her mind with full force.

"I just wanted to follow up on the session we had Monday.  I know that
I was somewhat...aggressive.   I apologize for that."

Scully smirked.  She thought she could hear a little shake in the cool
therapist's voice.

"I just wanted to make sure that you want to keep your appointment
next week.  And I wanted to...well, no, that's all I wanted to do,
actually. So...call me and let me know, when you can, about the
appointment.  You have my number."  A nervous throat-clearing sound
preceded the dial tone.

Scully ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes.  On
Monday, she'd felt quite sure that she didn't want to see Gwen again.
After the initial breakthrough, during which Scully had felt almost
empowered by the compassion Gwen had shown, the rest of the session
had gone rather badly.  Somehow, every question Gwen asked had put
Scully on the defensive.  Questions about Scully's father, about what
it was like to grow up Catholic, about why she'd joined the FBI.

And Gwen had made the serious error of asking about Mulder.

Scully didn't know why, but she never felt like talking about her
relationship with Mulder.  Not at all.  Maybe that was because she and
Mulder had never discussed it--had never really said anything about
friendship or love, though they had danced around the topic more than
a few times.  Perhaps she feared that breaking that code of silence
would make it all go sour.

She knew that her love for Mulder was not sexual, nor even all that
affectionate.  It was based on a sort of cherishing, an appreciation
for who he was--period. If she tried, she could analyze it further,
and pick out some specific characteristics of his that she admired,
like his ability to be gentle with strangers when he managed to notice
that they needed an understanding ear, and, of course, his persistence
in pursuing the truth.  But none of those aspects of him, or of their
relationship, were as profound and meaningful to her as the whole, and
she couldn't quite characterize the whole.  Often the way they
understood each other was mysterious, unfounded and unreasonable.  But
it had become as important and as natural to her as the air she
breathed.

Maybe that was why she didn't like to talk about it--she couldn't
really figure it out.  Or maybe it was because she was pretty sure
that almost nobody would be able to really figure it out, no matter
how hard they tried.  It seemed futile, and almost insulting, to try
to explain away something that just...just *was.*

Not even a therapist would be able to explain it.  Not even one who
said, "Look, I'm gay.  I have a pretty open mind about relationships,
so you can tell me how you feel about Mulder."

Now *that* little revelation had sent a strange shimmer up Scully's
spine.  And, apparently, it had implanted something in her
subconscious, something that had sprouted into the dream that had
distracted her all day.

Although she had appreciated Gwen's frankness, Scully had refused to
say anything at all about Mulder during the session, and Gwen had
eventually given up.  The session had ended coldly, formally.

But, whether it was the silly fact that they were wearing the same
unusual wristwatch, or the fact that Gwen had seen so startlingly
clearly into Scully's fears and into the effects of her captivity,
something had stuck in Scully's brain, leaving her a little shaky,
uncertain, and certainly intrigued by Dr. Wilson.

{{It was strangely intimate,}} she wrote in her journal that night.
{{Almost too much so.  The way she looked at me, the ease with which
she looked right at me and...into me.}}

{{Why do I have to analyze--and dream about--everything?}}

Scully shook her head and stood up, leaving her bag on the couch and
her shoes in the hall.  She shuffled to the bathroom, certain that a
bubble bath would have its usual clarifying effect.

The water hissed and gurgled in fits, fighting its way out of the
faucet.  Cool blue liquid dove down from the bottle in Scully's hand,
then folded back on itself before it was transformed into thick suds.

One sock.  Two.  A rumple of black, as a handsome pair of trousers
fell to the floor.  A tailored hip-length black jacket landing gently
on top of them.  A pearl-grey satin short-sleeved shirt cascading
through the air, falling slowly.

Electric blue cotton underwear adding a splash of shocking color to
the demure heap of fabric.  Cotton grey jog bra, soft and well-worn,
dangling in a careless pose atop the lot of it.

A careful toe gingerly testing the steaming water.

"Uhhhhhh."  The voice a low rumble of relief.

Toes feet ankles calves knees thighs, settling, prickling to life in
the hot water, muscles jumping for joy in the soothing rippling sudsy
embrace.

"Yesssss."  The voice lighter now, airy.

The hands slowly reaching forward, lazily turning the handles of the
faucet.  The shifting and adjusting, the search for the perfect
position, chin just above the water.

A pause.  The eyes closed, the breath slow.  A fragment of a dream
tumbling through the brain.  An exhilarating sensation of freedom,
excitement, unfettered sensuality.

The fingers suddenly sure and strong, caressing breasts, sliding
smoothly over the slope of the belly.

A careful teasing touch, almost immediately growing insistent, the
swirling suds gathering as if to help out, knees rising a little, then
more.

Fingers flat, pressing, swaying, rippling like the water.  Other
fingers jumping, reaching, urgent.  A push and a pull, hand versus
hand, dipping, lifting, curving and tugging.

Slosh slosh slosh.  Silence.

A final, sudden slosh, the knees falling, the hands still, the once
sea-level chin thrown high, the back of the head christened in suds.

A sly slow smile.

A thumping heart and a heat-rushed head.

"Sure," she whispered.  "I'll go to therapy next week.  I'll get in
touch with my...with my fucking feelings."



Tuesday, June 1, 1999
2:30 p.m.
West Woods Clinic
Bethesda, MD

"Come in, Dana."

Gwen's smiling face instantly made Scully feel unsettled again.  She'd
been trying to think of anything but her ordeal or her dream--the
latter having disturbed her almost as much as the former.  She had not
been able to get the dream out of her mind all weekend, and had filled
pages of her journal with speculation about whether she was gay,
crazy, or just really lonely.

She hadn't arrived at much of a conclusion, but when she saw Gwen's
face, she thought maybe it was a combination of all three.

Scully settled into a different chair than she had selected during the
previous session. "Does this mean something?" she asked idly.

"Does what mean something?"  Gwen sat in the same chair she had sat in
before, but this time it was next to Scully, rather than across from
her.

"The fact that I sat in a different chair than I did last time.  Does
that mean anything, like I can't commit, or that I'm especially
mercurial at heart?"

Gwen laughed softly.  "It probably means that you feel like sitting in
a different chair today."

Scully smiled in spite of herself.  "Okay, good.  I guess that, just
because I analyze everything, doesn't mean you have to--even if you
are the shrink."

"Do you analyze everything?"  Gwen's face was serious.

"Well, I guess the session has started," Scully joked.

"No time like the present."

"Sure.  Okay.  Yes, I do tend to analyze everything, but that is a
strong asset in my line of work."

"I don't doubt that,"  Gwen nodded.  "But is work life, and is life
work?  Are they the same to you?"

Scully hated the question as soon as she heard it.  "Couldn't you have
waited a few sessions to get to that?  Do we have to focus on one of
my biggest problems right away?"

Gwen looked confused.  "It was just a question, Dana."

"Fine.   Yes, work is life, and life is work, and that is all I know
on earth, and all I need to know."

"Yeats.  Ode on a Grecian Urn. Clever," Gwen smiled.

"I wasn't trying to be clever."  Scully felt irritated but didn't know
why.  "I'm trying to say let's not talk about work right now.  Let's
talk about something else."

"Okay.  Like how it felt to be abducted?'"

"No!" Scully was surprised to hear the anger in her own voice.
"That's the same as talking about work, really."

"Okay."  Gwen waved her hands.  "I'm clearing the air.  Let's start
over.  How was your week?"

"That question is about work too."  Scully half laughed at the
absurdity of the situation.

"Okay, I guess that's true.  I'm sorry.  Let's see..."  Gwen tapped
her temple as if she were summoning something up from the inner
wrinkles of her brain.  "Well, if you're really working every waking
hour, then we might as well talk about the only time you're not
working--when you're asleep.  Let's talk about your dreams."

Scully blushed a deep crimson.

"Well, I must have hit on something there," Gwen smiled.  "Tell me
what you've been dreaming lately."

Scully tried to regain her composure, and almost refused to reply.
But something in her wanted to know how Gwen would react.  She slowly
described the nightmare of non-stop running, and was again touched by
what looked like genuine sadness in Gwen's eyes.

"That's horrible, Dana.  Do you ever make any progress at all in the
dream?  Do you ever find your way out?"

Scully took a deep breath.  "I did the other night," she said softly.

"Good.  What happened?"

"I fell into some sort of wonderful blue lagoon and...made love with
someone I barely know in real life."

"Wow!  Well, that's quite a nice ending to a terrible nightmare."
Gwen smiled that full, open smile again.

{{Here it comes,}} Scully thought.  She nodded and squinted a little.

"Do you want to tell me who you made love with in the dream, or does
it seem irrelevant?"

"Oh, I'm sure it's not irrelevant at all.  But it does have a
rather...unsettling effect on me."

"Okay.  Well, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but it
might point us in the right direction.  Maybe this person could be
some sort of aid to recovery in real life.  Maybe your subconscious is
trying to tell you that."

"Oh, I'm sure this person could help."  Scully was starting to find it
all rather funny.  "I'm sure she's already helping me, actually."

If Gwen was shocked by the pronoun, she did not show it.  "Well,
that's good then.  Do you think maybe you want to get a little closer
to her in real life?"

"I doubt that would be a good idea."  Scully sighed, realizing she was
about to take this as far as it would go, and certain the outcome was
not going to be nearly as splendorous as her dream.

"Why's that?"

"Because you'd be breaking whatever code of ethics applies to people
in your profession," Scully said simply.

This time the surprise showed on the therapist's face.  "I--I'm not
sure I---"

"I dreamt about you, Gwen."  Scully looked at the floor, embarrassed
but excited, and propelled by some long-buried sense of recklessness
to tell the whole story. "You were in the lake, and I swam toward you
as fast as I could, and we kissed, deeper and longer than I've ever
imagined a kiss could be.  Then we swam to the shore and made love.
Several times."

She paused for effect, and to quell the arousal that had begun to
flutter somewhere near her stomach.  She kept her eyes fixed on the
floor.

"It was really really good, actually--I felt sated, and simultaneously
very...sensitive...when I woke up."  Scully's voice was almost a
whisper, and she could tell her cheeks were flushed again.

Gwen cleared her throat.

"Dana, it's not uncommon for clients to place a lot of trust and hope
in their therapists."

Scully let out a short sharp laugh.  "Wow, that was a textbook
response."  She rolled her eyes and finally looked up, meeting Gwen's
steady gaze.

But the steadiness in the chocolate eyes wavered.  Gwen sighed and
winced a little.

"What did you think I would say, Scully?  That yes, I'm attracted to
you too, so why don't we just get it on right here on the floor?"

Scully blushed again.  "No, I didn't think you'd say that."

"You know as well as I do that there's a line in this kind of working
relationship," Gwen continued, "and I won't cross it, no matter how
very much I might be tempted to."

Scully's eyebrows went up sharply. "Should I..should I take that as a
compliment?"

"Yes."  Gwen sighed and walked over to the window.  "The truth is--and
I know I shouldn't say this--but the truth is that the minute I saw
you, I wished you would just turn around and walk out the door,
because then maybe I'd bump into you in a grocery store somewhere and
could ask you for your phone number.  But I was also terrified that
you really might walk out the door, because even though becoming your
therapist would mean I'd never get to figure out why my first look at
you made a strong surge of heat course through me, I also didn't want
to risk never seeing you again."

Scully was stunned. She tried to focus on her breathing, and cleared
her throat.  "Dr. Wilson, those speeches of yours sure do pack a
punch."

They both laughed softly, glad the tension had been broken.

But there seemed to be nothing left to say. Gwen returned to her chair
and sat silently, smiling a little.  Finally Scully offered, "It must
be difficult, to see people every day who touch you in various ways,
and to never really be able to get close to them."

Now Gwen was stunned, and flooded with a sense of gratitude at the
understanding.  "Yes, Dana, it is extremely difficult.  It's almost
enough to make me quit my job, but not quite."

Scully sat up a little straighter, attempting to restore the sense of
decorum for which she was well-known and, often, for which she was
avoided.  "Well, I'm glad you haven't quit.  Because I do think you
will be able to help me, in your present capacity, that is. I'm sure
we can keep things at a professional level. And I'll try not to have
any more dreams about you."

"Well, no reason to drop me right away now, is there?"

They laughed again, and Scully felt unguardedly happy for the first
time in a long while.

"So..." Gwen said carefully.  "I'm going to hazard a guess that you
don't generally dream about making love to a woman.  Should we talk
about that?"

Scully sighed loudly and rolled her eyes.

"You know what?  Talking about work is starting to sound pretty good
right now."

******
--end part 2--