From: Easterhawk & Eagleclaw <aerierlh@gnv.fdt.net>
Date: 12 Jun 1999 07:36:20 -0700
Subject: xfc New: Alive NC-17 part 1 of 10

From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw" <aerierlh@gnv.fdt.net>

TITLE: Alive part 1 of 10

AUTHOR: Easterhawk
E-MAIL ADDRESS: aerierlh@gnv.fdt.net
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere is fine, just let me know so I can come and visit!!
DISCLAIMER: Not mine (I wish!) - the belong to Chris Carter and the
extremely talented David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson! Bless them!
SPOILER WARNING: Through "The Unnatural"
RATING: NC-17
CLASSIFICATION: SA MSR MF m/f Rape (past)
KEYWORDS:  SA MSR MF m/f Rape (past)

SUMMARY: Mulder must deal with issues from his past before he can live in
the present. Scully helps him through it all. 

AUTHOR's NOTES: This is my first work in the X-Files Universe! Many thanks
to Texxasrose who lovingly edited this for me! Without her, this would have
been left in the trash heap!!!  Feedback is GREATLY appreciated!

	For me, it seemed as if time had slipped into some unknown vortex and
disappeared. My senses were imprisoned; my logical, analytical thoughts
were effectively silenced before they could even begin to voice their
protests. All that mattered was the feel of the bat in my hand, how it made
my entire body tingle each time we made contact with the ball, like an
electrical current passing through my very being. It was a charge, of
sorts, that filled my body and kept me focused, a fracturing of all that
had seemed important in the past, breaking it down into millions upon
millions of charged particles that seemed to move along rapidly through my
body. One word, alone, was enough to describe the way I was feeling: alive.
For the first time in so long  I could not remember the last time I had
experienced this feeling; I felt alive. And grounded. Grounded not by my
science, but by the earth beneath my feet, by the solid feel of the
baseball bat in my hands and, most importantly, by Mulder's arms which held
me, not restrictively, not desperately, not quite passionately, just
securely. It was a rare and special and, ultimately, comfortable feeling
unlike any I had ever experienced in my life.

	I belong here, I thought to myself at the time, and 'here' had not so much
to do with a baseball field in the middle of the night as it had to do with
the man behind me. Mulder. My partner. My best friend. So much more than
any words can describe. Our relationship had been, for so long,
undefinable. I could not begin to put into words what we meant to each
other. To say that I loved him was inadequate on some levels because what I
felt for him went beyond what is so often mistaken for love. On another
level, too, it was an inadequate word because we were not lovers in the
physical sense. Yet, that evening, in his arms, I began to feel the line
between friendship and something more begin to blur and I realized that we
could never fit any true definition. We were deeper than that, more
elemental.

	I could feel his breath teasing the side of my face as he whispered to me.
I could hear the words he was saying - casual and teasing yet serious at
the same time - but could make no sense of them. The rush of feelings was
keeping me from ordering my thoughts, drowning  me in a chaos that was not
completely unwelcome. His tone of voice was lulling me into a state of
relaxation while his words affirmed so many things that I had felt were
lost between us recently. I had called into doubt the nature of our
relationship, questioned his trust in me, feared that we would never be
able to return to the place where we had almost been. Then, in his own way,
he had brought us back together again.

	I was listening to his words, but I didn't really want to hear them. I
told him to shut up, that I wanted to play ball, but what I really wanted
was to let myself float on this sea of sensory overload. The feelings were
so much more real to me at that moment and they were all that I could
handle. He was quiet for a moment, but, soon he was prattling on again in
his typical Mulder fashion. The feel of his hand against my hip, holding
him to me, was so much more powerful, connecting, that I let the words
float past me almost unnoticed. In my mind, I moved his hand a few inches
closer to my center, imagining the feel of him there. He was talking about
900 numbers and I was picturing him melting inside of me. I was lost in my
fantasy, each though, each word, punctuated by the swing of the bat, the
contact of the ball, the surge of electricity and the increasing closeness
of his body against mine. I almost missed what he said, almost allowed the
words to slip by, unnoticed, in my blissful haze. But I didn't.

	He was talking, nonstop. "...my ditching, and not always trusting you, and
the truth about Diana, I owe you that, listening to your theories, and all
the times you could have left and reason would have told you to go, I love
you, even at times when I drag you off into stupid situations in the middle
of the night, and haunted houses with over-ambitious ghosts, flukemen and
monsters like Padgett...."

	I dropped the bat and the ball whizzed past us and into the chain link
behind home plate. I had heard those three words before. Once, that was an
excusable mistake, a drug induced haze perhaps, but twice? Once, I had
allowed myself to believe that the words had not been for real. My own
voice cracked and strangled as I forced a response. "What?" I asked him,
looking up at him with what may have been the most perplexed expression I
have ever mustered and turning in his arms to force him to loosen his grip
and allow me to look into his eyes. 

	"You have to swing the bat, Scully." he replied, "This is baseball, not
dodgeball." His eyes twinkled mischievously, but they also hid something
else. I could see this, clearly, as he forced himself to look me in the eye
without concern.

	A small voice, youthfully indignant, interrupted my chance for further
unspoken communion with Mulder. "I gotta go home soon, Mister. Are we done
here?" Mulder released me, distancing himself from the confrontation, and
casually reached for his wallet. Mulder paid the boy and watched him walk
off down the field, hands in his pockets, whistling to himself in the
carefree way of children who are unafraid of the dark.  

	As soon as we were officially alone, he did not turn back to me. His whole
body exuded a tension that I had not seen in him before. "So," he cleared
his throat several times, still staring off into the distance. "So, do you
still believe I don't know how to have fun on my day off?"

	I was not prepared to back down so easily this time. "What did you just
say, Mulder?" I asked him, taking one tentative step closer to his back,
bridging the distance as slowly as possible, afraid that, this time, he
might be the one to run away.

	"Fun, Scully. Was this acceptable to your idea of fun?"

	He was backpedaling, retracing his step, and I had to keep up with him.
"No. That's not what I meant, Mulder. I was talking about earlier. What did
you say before that?" One step closer and I saw him shift his weight away
from me, maintaining our distance.

	"Before what, Scully?"

	He still had not turned away from the darkness, made no effort to face me
as we spoke. The darkness, so comforting to me before, began to take on an
almost sinister feel, oppressive and cold and alone. Where once there had
been the comfort of his arms around me, now there was nothing but space and
the overpowering charge of fear. I was no longer willing to just let it end
this way. So many of our nights and days had ended like this, alone and
frightened and sad and hurt.

	"Before, Mulder. Before I dropped the bat." My voice was, amazingly,
stronger this time than I had imagined it could be and I used that moment
of courage to allow me to take one, far less tentative, step towards him. 

	"Flukemen, Scully. I was talking about Flukemen. Surely you can't have
forgotten that experience." 

	I could hear the fear in his voice, more than just nervousness, but a real
and oppressive terror. All at once, I realized how important this moment
was to me, to him, to us, even. The choice was mine. He had said the words,
twice, and it was my turn to take the next step, to carry us forward to the
next level or to take us back, safely, to the place where we had been
before. I covered the last two steps until I stood behind him, close enough
to feel the heat of his skin, but not yet touching. My answer, my decision,
had been made many years ago. I had no more doubts, no more desire to hedge
the issue. I stared at the back of his head, level with where his eyes
would be should he turn and face me, and gave voice to my decision. "I love
you, Mulder."

	We stood there, frozen for one second, then five, then ten, then thirty.
Finally, he released a breath that he had been holding inside of him and I
watched as the tension fled from his body, his shoulders dropped first,
then his knees as he collapsed to the ground before me. He fell to his
knees and bowed his head as if in prayer and I heard the breath, as it
escaped him, turn into sobs that racked his body and shook my soul.

	Mulder anger, I was familiar with. Mulder angst, even, was something I had
seen, first hand, on many occasions. But this, this was different. I had
never seen him truly cry. The anguish and pain I heard in those sobs tore
my heart from my chest in a manner much more real than even what Padgett
had done. I knelt beside him, afraid to touch him but wanting, at the same
time, to gather him into my arms and give back to him the safety he had
given me. Finally, when I could bear it no longer, I tentatively placed my
hand on his shoulder. He trembled, but did not pull away. I turned his body
towards me and searched his face, seeing the tears that coursed down his
cheeks, the red of his eyes. "I love you, Mulder. It's okay to feel this."

	He was staring into my eyes now, and I could read all of the feelings that
he could not express in words, fear and shame most of all. When he finally
spoke, it was not to say that he returned my feelings, but to beg for
something that meant more to him, at the time, than my love. "Forgive me,
Scully."

	I did not know, then, exactly what it was that he needed me to forgive him
for, but it seemed to be the only thing that I could do to relieve his
pain. I took him into my arms and he collapsed against me, soaking my
jacket with his tears. "Of course, I forgive you. Just let me love you,
Mulder." I must have said the right thing, because the tears began to flow
more freely, although I would not have believed it possible, and he held on
to me as though he were afraid that I might disappear into the night. We
stayed that way until the air began to take on the chill of that time
between late night and early morning. 

	Finally, he broke away, helping me to my feet without saying a word. He
took my hand in his and we walked, in silence, to my car. His own car was
nowhere in sight. We were close, I knew, to his apartment, so I let him in
to the passenger seat and took my own place behind the wheel. It seemed the
right thing to do.

TITLE: Alive part 2 of 10

I don't really remember many details about the brief trip in my car from
the baseball field to Mulder's apartment. We didn't talk at all. He was no
longer sobbing, but, from time to time, I could hear him catch his breath
with a shudder that indicated to me that all was not yet well in his
troubled mind. He let go of my hand long enough for me to make the trip
around the car from the passenger's side, where I had securely deposited
him and ascertained, before closing his door, that he had, in fact,
promptly fastened his seat belt, to the driver's side. He had kept his
distance while I fastened my own seat belt, started the ignition and turned
on the head lights. However, as soon as I was able to take one hand off the
steering wheel and rest it casually on the gear shift mechanism, I found
that it was instantly covered by one of his. He was not holding, not
rubbing, but just resting there, with his hand covering mine, and he stared
out the window of the car at the traffic, heavy even at 3am in Washington,
DC. We were about to make a connection of some sort, or we already had and
I didn't quite know what it was.

	When we arrived at his apartment, he let go of my hand and quickly got out
of the car, so quickly, in fact, that he was half way to the door of the
apartment building before I even had a chance to shut off the ignition,
turn out the headlights, remove my seat belt and exit the vehicle. It was
at this point that I realized that he was, once again, running away. I
admit it, I was not exactly as understanding as I could have been, given
all that I already knew about Mulder, and trust, and fear and whatever else
it was that kept his emotions at bay when it came to us. But, to be
perfectly honest, I was angry. No, I was more than angry. I was pissed. He
was the one who had coerced me out to a deserted ball field in the middle
of the night just so he could get his hands on my body. He was the one who
had said those three little words, not once now, but twice. And, finally,
he was the one who had broken down and sobbed, not just cried, but sobbed,
on his knees, in the dirt, and begged for my forgiveness when I told him
that I returned those feelings.

	Okay, so this was not exactly your usual declaration of love between two
people. When have we ever been normal? I wasn't expecting hearts and
flowers. I wouldn't want those things from him. But he was running away and
that would definitely not have been an acceptable ending to such an
emotionally charged evening. "Mulder!" I screamed at him, "Where in the
hell do you think you're going?"

	I got the car door shut and locked and started after him. He stopped
walking, just stared off into the distance and waited for me to catch up to
him. When I reached my usual place at his side, he turned to face me for
the first time all evening. "Go home, Scully. This was a mistake. I'm
sorry."

	Wrong answer, Mulder. That is exactly what went through my mind as he said
those words. Not hurt or loss or anything like that, simply wrong answer. 
I am not a stupid woman. You can't just push me away that easily, not when
I know that you really don't want to. "No. Mulder. I am not leaving here
until you tell me what it is about this evening that you see as a mistake."

	"Scully, please...."

	"No. You are not getting out of it this time, Mulder. So, we can either
stay out here and talk where all of the neighbors can see us, or we can go
upstairs to your apartment and sit down like two rational adults and have
this conversation in private."

	"Fine," was his only reply and he turned back towards the apartment
building, with me firmly in tow this time.

	So this was how we ended up back at Mulder's apartment, in the aftermath
of what was almost a real admission of mutual love, sitting as far apart as
possible from each other on Mulder's sofa in the darkness. Well, in the
near darkness. The television was on, as always, with the volume muted, and
the fish tank cast an eerie green glow about the room as well. We sat in
silence for so long that I almost lost my nerve, but, finally, I realized
that, if this conversation was ever going to happen, I had to be the one to
begin.

	"Mulder, what is it? Why does the fact that I tell you that I love you
hurt you this much?" I wanted to reach for his hand as I said this, but I
didn't. I kept my voice as level as possible and trained my eyes on his
face with as much compassion as I could muster in spite of the fact that I
was still angry and frustrated and not just the least bit confused.

	"Scully, I just can't. I need you to understand this. I can't."
	
	"Can't what, Mulder?"

	"This, Scully. This."

	He was becoming more and more panicked. I could feel the tension building
up inside of him as he spoke to me. Whatever it was that he felt he could
not handle, I began to realize that it was something more than just his
feelings for me. I slid closer to him on the sofa, prepared to make a grab
for him if the need arose. "Mulder, whatever it is, you can tell me."

	"Things were fine just the way they were, Scully. I should have just left
this alone. I shouldn't have crossed that line."

	"What line, Mulder?"

	"You know exactly what line I'm talking about. Don't give me that..."

	"You mean the line between the truth and the lies?"

	That one floored him. I knew what he was talking about. I knew he was
referring to the fact that he felt that we had somehow crossed the line
between friends and partners into something more. But I realized something
in that moment. We had already crossed that line a long, long time ago when
we started to have those feelings for each other. Admitting those feelings
was just a matter of crossing the line between the truth and the lies that
we had been telling each other daily in an effort to camouflage our
feelings. 

	"What?" was all he managed to croak out in response. I knew I was finally
gaining some ground.

	"The only line we've crossed, Mulder, is the line between being completely
honest with each other about our feelings and telling each other little
white lies to avoid the ramifications of that honesty. I'm ready for truth,
Mulder. I have trusted you for so long with most of my secrets. Now, you
have them all. I love you. I have loved you for quite a while. I'm not sure
how long; I just know that it has been a while. I have no regrets about
loving you. My only regret is that I didn't admit this to you sooner, when
you were ready for me to believe you."

	"Scully, I'm not sure that I would have been ready then, either. I just
can't do this and I wish you could just accept that." He turned away from
me and the defeat was evident in his voice.

	"No. I can't just accept that. I have the truth now, Mulder, and I can't
just let us go back to where we were before. What is it that you are so
afraid of? Tell me. Let me in, please. Just don't run away anymore." I
started to cry a little bit then, beginning to feel as if I were losing
ground faster that it could be regained.

	"Scully, I can't do this to you. I can't ask you to understand this. It
isn't fair to you. You understand so much about me. You put up with so many
things that other people would run from. You stand beside me when all the
rest of the world is ducking for cover. I can't add this to your burdens."

	"Loving you is not a burden. I want this. You have shown me tonight that
everything I have ever hoped for is in reach. I never believed that you
could possibly love me, Mulder. You, of all people. What would you want
with me? And then, tonight, I realized that, maybe, just maybe, there was a
future in this world for Fox Mulder and Dana Scully as something more than
friends, something deeper than partners, something quite a lot like lovers.
So maybe we aren't exactly traditional. Most people kiss after they confess
their love to one another. But I can wait for that. just don't shut me
out."

	Mulder took a deep breath and I saw his eyes change color in the low
light. They went from hazel to almost black and I could see, too, that he
was fighting back another round of tears. He reached out towards me with
his hand and I covered the distance in record time, taking his hand in mine
and pulling him into my arms all in one swift motion. I stroked the back of
his head, letting my fingers comb through the softness of his hair. I knew
that he needed time to face whatever it was that was keeping us apart. As I
held him there, I let my mind wander back to the way I had felt in the ball
field as he had held me in his arms. Alive. He had made me feel alive. I
concentrated on that word and tried to somehow project that feeling into
Mulder. I know, this seems like a very un-Scullylike thing to do, but
Melissa used to do it to me all the time when we were kids. She'd
concentrate on a feeling or an emotion and she was able to actually make me
feel it. I don't know how it worked, but I just felt as though I had to try
something.

	I continued to stroke his hair and gradually I let my fingers roam down
his shoulders and his back, massaging gently. "Mulder," I whispered to him,
"It's okay to feel. I feel. You know what I feel when I'm with you? I feel
alive." I just kept on whispering to him until he was ready to speak. When
he did, he seemed to have regained some of his usual calm. However, he also
seemed to have distanced himself a bit more than usual. There was a
detachment about him that I knew was designed to keep whatever this was
that he was about to tell me from hurting him.

	"Okay, Scully, you win." His voice was thick and almost frightening in its
intensity. "I'll tell you why we can't have this, why I can't have this,
but only because I know that, once you have heard all that I have to say,
you will want to leave. You will want to leave not only this apartment, but
you will also want to put as much distance between you and me as is
possible. So, agent Scully, if you don't want to give up the illusion that
you have of me now, tell me to stop. We can go our separate ways and you
can remember me the way I was to you before tonight. But, if you really
want to hear the truth, then don't say a word. Don't try to touch me. Just
let me talk. And. when I have told you this story in its entirety, you may
leave. And I won't follow."

	I was terrified. I had wanted him to open up to me, to tell me what was
going on inside of him. But this was frightening. I wanted to tell him
that, no matter what, I would not leave him, but all I could do was nod and
let him proceed. The story that followed horrified me beyond description,
sickened me, angered me, saddened me. I felt all of these things for
Mulder, not about him. What I could see and he could not was the simple
fact that he was the victim. And I thanked a God whose existence I could
not prove that this beautiful man was still alive. And I made a silent vow,
to myself and to him, that I would never stop trying to erase his pain.

From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw" <aerierlh@gnv.fdt.net>
TITLE: Alive part 3 of 10


	Over the next two hours, Mulder spoke in a clinical, almost unemotional
manner about his life, the personal aspects of which I realized I knew very
little, from the time after Samantha disappeared until the time we met. He
never looked at me. He never moved from his seat on the sofa. I never
touched him, though there were many, many moments when all that I wanted to
do was take him in my arms and hold him forever. I knew then, beyond all
hesitation, two things. I could never make him whole again, and I would
never, ever leave him while I was still alive and in control of my own
destiny. This was his story, as I remember it, and I think that I always
will remember it:

			**************************


	I knew that, once this was all said and done, Scully would leave. She
would be gone for good, and I would not be able to blame her. But, at least
I could comfort myself in the knowledge that she would be safe. Once I got
started, I realized that it wasn't going to be all that hard to tell her. I
found that I could distance myself from my life just as easily with this as
I had with my love for Scully.

	"After Samantha died my parents didn't say very much to me at all. My
mother, she was in a state of shock, I think. I don't really believe that
she ever meant to stop loving me, but I don't think she had a choice."

	 "My father, on the other hand, was hiding something from us all. I knew
that, even then. He knew where she was all along, but he couldn't bring her
back. So he had to find a scapegoat, someone to blame for his mistake, for
the fact that, I now believe, he had chosen the wrong child to let go of.
It should have been me. They could have lived without me. They couldn't
live without Sam."  Just like I knew that, when all was done, I would not
be able to live without Scully. This was the beginning of my very own,
personal end, my descent into whatever hell I had avoided until this point.

	"Sam was the brightest point of their lives. I was just another child, a
mouth to feed that would not go away. My father didn't speak to me much
before Sam disappeared. Afterwards, he never spoke to me at all. He ignored
my existence, which was a blessing." 

	Except for the times he would walk past me in the hall and hit me, for no
reason other than the fact that he was drunk and angry and needed to take
it all out on someone. But I didn't tell Scully that part. Not right away.
It didn't seem important.

	"That was just the way it as for us, until one night. Sam had been gone
almost a year, and he came to my room in the middle of the night. I wasn't
asleep, I remember that, although it must have been very, very late. He had
been drinking, heavily, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath even
before he sat down on the edge of my bed."

	I am cursed with an eidetic memory, so these facts will be etched in my
brain forever. However, the good part about that was the fact that I could
tell her everything he said to me. I hoped, at the time, that she would
realize just how right my father had been in his description of me.

	 "Fox," he said to me "I'm going to tell you something, something that you
will want to remember for the rest of your miserable existence. You are
worthless. Your life means nothing to me. Do you want to know why?" And,
when he asked me this, I knew that, no matter what I said, he was going to
tell me anyway. "You are worthless because you have destroyed our lives.
You should have been the one to leave, not her. What you don't understand
is that no man deserves to be loved. You have to earn that love by strength
and heroic actions. Men was put on this earth to take care of women, to
make them happy. You, Fox, have not done that. You, and you alone, let your
sister down. You destroyed your mother's life. Do you understand me, Fox?
Do you really understand how worthless you are?"

	I started to cry, his words hurt me so badly. I didn't understand how I
could have prevented Sam's abduction, but I knew that I had somehow failed
her, failed my mother. I wanted to cry again as I was telling Scully all of
this, but I knew that I couldn't let that happen. I did not want her pity.
I didn't get my father's pity.

	"As soon as he heard me crying, he got angry, more so than I had ever seen
before. He grabbed me by the collar of my pajamas and pulled me upright in
the bed. Then he hit me. Not an open handed slap, but a closed fist punch
across my jaw."

	 "You are shit, Fox. Shit! You are not my son and you never will be!"
Those were his final words to me. We never spoke of that evening again. He
never came to me again, either. We lived as if the whole thing had never
happened. The next day, I stayed home from school with a bruised nose and a
blackened eye. My mother never said a word. She knew. She just didn't
care."

	I had to stop here, for a moment, and collect my thoughts. I was telling
her more than I needed to. I could see that she was not moving away. I
could sense her, just a few feet away, wanting to wrap her arms around me,
comfort me, and I could not let that happen. If I let her inside, then it
would be impossible for me to tell her the next part, the part that she
needed to know to understand just how right my father was.

	"I existed, from that point on, with those words in my head on a daily
basis. My father was right, I had failed Sam. I never dated because I was
afraid that I would fail someone else. I did not deserve love. When I got
to England to go to school, I still had not planned on becoming involved
with anyone. But Phoebe had other ideas. At first, it seemed as if she
wanted to be my savior, like she was on some kind of a one woman mission to
rescue the dark, mysterious man from the demons of his past."

	 Kind of reminded me of you, Scully. But I couldn't tell you that. Or,
maybe I could have. Maybe then you would have seen just how dangerous it
was for you to get involved with me.  

	"She was a bit of a control freak, though. Everything had to be done her
way. When she found out that I was - inexperienced - she took it upon
herself to educate me in the ways to please a woman. The first time we
actually had sex, I guess I was a little overeager. Anyway, it didn't last
very long and she was disappointed, to say the least. So, from then on out,
she decided that I needed to learn control. Bondage, they call it. That was
her thing. I was to be her servant. When I reached the point at which she
felt I was worthy, then I would be allowed to actually have sex with her.
Until that point, I was to touch her and please her and make her come as
many times as she wanted. In whatever way that she wanted. Some nights, I
was good enough for her. Other nights, she would leave me so bottled up I
thought that I was going to explode. But I couldn't do anything about it
because I knew, in my soul, that I really was not worthy. I was shit. She
was right. I should have been thankful for the little bit of love that she
did bestow upon me. And I was."

	I wanted to make absolutely certain that Scully understood me. I didn't
want her to think that what my father had said to me was wrong. She had to
understand that I knew he was absolutely right about me. Then, and only
then, could I make her see just how evil this thing was that I had done.

	"One night, however, I was running late. I was supposed to have been at
her place by eight, but I had some last minute work to do on a paper that
was already late and I got stuck at the library until after nine. When I
finally reached her place, I let myself in, as always. She wasn't alone.
There was another man in the apartment with her. In the bed with her,
actually, and she was giving him pleasure in all the ways that she said I
wasn't worthy of. I went insane. Here was this stranger, someone she had
never seen before that night, in our bed, and she was giving him all of the
things that I had longed for. She looked up and saw me standing in the
doorway."

	"Fox," she said, "you were late. See what happens to disobedient little
boys? They are never worthy. They never get to have any fun. Sit down and
watch, Fox. Watch what it's like for a real man."

	I was racing through my story now, getting to the most important part, the
one thing that Scully had to know about me in order to understand just how
afraid she should be of this thing within me, this beast that I become when
I think that I am actually worthy of love.

	"I was frozen. I didn't know what to do. And then, this stranger grabbed
her by the hair and flipped her over onto her back and started fucking her,
really fucking her. She was screaming in pleasure and he was pounding into
her and I couldn't stand it any longer. I grabbed him and pulled him off
her and started pounding the crap out of him. I think I broke his nose and
maybe a few of his teeth in the process, but the next thing I knew he was
grabbing his clothes and running out of the apartment. I looked over at
Phoebe, still sitting on the bed, and she was laughing. The bitch was
laughing, hysterically."

	"Poor little Fox. He's gotten himself all worked up. What's the matter,
Foxy boy?" She asked, between laughs. "Can't stand to see another man, a
real man, take your place?"

	I didn't know what to say. "I thought you were special. I thought you
loved me." In reality, what I was saying was that I had actually thought
that I could deserve her love. I had forgotten, temporarily, what my father
had tried to instill within me.

	"Love, Fox? Really. How naive can you be? I don't love you. You bore me.
It was fun for a while, playing with the poor, pathetic virgin. But I need
a real man, Fox. Not a boy. Go on. Get lost, little puppy. We're done
here."

	"I had trusted her. I had told her about my life and she had told me that
she loved me, and now this. I lost control. She wasn't expecting that kind
of outburst from me, and, at first, she was stunned. Then she tried to
fight back, but I was stronger. I held her down on the bed and I raped her.
Not once, but two, I don't know, maybe three times. She cried and she
screamed and she finally just went limp against the bed. And I left her
there."

	"The next day, I realized what I had done. I tried to apologize. I
groveled at her feet and begged for forgiveness. She told me that if I ever
came near her again she'd have me up on charges. I deserved that and more.
I had failed her, just like I failed Sam. I never saw her again until last
year. I left England soon after and I swore that I would never let myself
get close to anyone again. I was not only worthless, I was dangerous as
well.

	I was okay with that, for a while. I forced myself to ignore women. I
watched porn tapes to get off when the need was too great. I really liked
the S and M ones. The nastier the better. Before too long, I couldn't even
get it up without something playing in the background. I began to wonder
if, maybe, what I had done to Phoebe was who I was. If that was the case,
then I knew that it was the best thing I could do to stay as far away from
the real live women as possible."

	I wanted to beg and plead with Scully to understand what I was telling
her, to make her see that she needed to get as far away from me as
possible. But she wasn't leaving. I could feel her eyes drilling holes in
the back of my head and, even though I had my back to her at the time, I
knew her gaze was not filled with hatred. She wasn't repulsed. Didn't she
even understand that I was a madman? I had to continue. I had hoped that,
by telling her about Phoebe, I could get her out of my life once and for
all, do something good for a change, but she was still sitting there beside
me as if this were some sort of rational discussion we were having, as if I
hadn't just admitted to her that I was the lowest of the low, a rapist, one
step short of a murderer, or one step closer, depending on your
perspective. I had to continue.

	"Then came the X-files. And, with them, came Diana. I was able to keep
things purely professional between us for quite a while. I didn't even
desire her. She held no interest at all for me. Then, out of the blue, she
started coming on to me. And I don't mean just flirting. It was almost as
if she could see inside my soul and understand all of the dirty little
secrets I held there. I never told her about Phoebe, but she seemed to
sense that there was something holding me back. So, one night, she started
telling me a little bit about herself. We went back to her apartment and we
had a few drinks, and the next thing I remembered was her telling me that
she liked it rough. She said it was hard for her to really get involved
with a man because they were all too weak for her. She liked a man who
wasn't afraid to take control. Then, she asked me if I thought there was
something wrong with that. I didn't know what to say, so I told her that I
thought she was perfectly normal. After all, if I thought any differently
about her then I would have had to admit to myself just how sick I really
was."

	I told myself, at this point, that there could be absolutely no more
secrets. Scully would know the whole truth, all of it. Then she would go.
Why wasn't she going, I began to wonder. What would it take to make her
leave? I had to know. She wasn't safe with me. I wasn't her friend and I
could never be her lover.

	"She asked me if I liked to watch porno movies. I told her I did, so she
went over to her bag and took out a tape and put it into the VCR. I had
never seen anything like it in my life and I had seen a lot of these
things. Women being tied down and fucked by two and three men at a time,
sometimes willingly, sometimes not. One woman was being beaten with whips
by one man while another was doing her up the ass and another was shoving
himself down her throat.  It made me feel ill to watch this and yet, at the
same time, I realized I was getting turned on. Diana turned to me and told
me that she had fantasies like these. She wanted to be tied down and fucked
as many times as possible, until she screamed, until she begged for mercy.
Then, she wanted to be fucked again."

	God, Scully, I was thinking at the time, why are you still here? Am I
getting through to you? Or are you so shocked that you can't even get up to
leave? I wouldn't have stopped you. I wanted you to go. I wanted you to get
as far away from me as possible so that I could go ahead and do to myself
what someone else should have done many years before. I was going to kill
myself. That had been the plan from the moment I made the decision to tell
Scully the truth. I was going to show her who I really was, so that she
wouldn't mourn for me when I was gone. I wanted her to be able to get on
with her life, to leave behind the sick and empty shell who had already
done her an irreparable amount of damage over the last six years without
ever laying a hand on her. 

	"I just stared at her in shock, at first, and then she was begging me to
rape her. Those were the words she used. She wanted me to tie her up and
rape her. A part of my mind was screaming at me to get out of her apartment
and go get her some help, but another part of me just wanted her so badly I
didn't think I could stand it any longer. That side won. I grabbed her
shoulders, threw her to the floor and ripped her clothes off. I raped her,
just like she wanted."

	All I could think of was the fact that I had now admitted to Scully that I
had raped not one, but two women, and she still didn't leave. I began to
think that maybe she was just waiting until I was finished so that she
could cuff me and haul me off to jail. I also began to realize that
spending the rest of my life behind bars was probably a far better
punishment than a shot to the head. I deserved to suffer, for Sam, for
Phoebe and for Diana.

	"The next day, at work, she acted like nothing had happened. The following
weekend, the cycle repeated itself and that was our pattern for several
months. Then, one day, she came in to the office and told me that she was
pregnant. She said that she would have an abortion if that was what I
wanted her to do, but I knew that she didn't want that. So, I married her
instead. I guess we loved each other. I'm not really sure anymore. Even
after we got married we continued with our sex life as it had been.
Sometimes it was more violent than others. One day, about three months
after she had first told me she was pregnant, she came in to the office in
tears. She had been to the doctor, she told me. She had lost the baby. That
wasn't all. Apparently, on one of our rougher nights, I had done something
wrong. I had pushed her to hard. It was my fault, she told me. She had
trusted me to take care of her, to treat her the way she wanted to be
treated, yes, but not to actually hurt her."

	There it was, plain as day. That was my story. I was empty after it was
all told. There was nothing left to say but the outcome. 

	"She got a transfer and left. The divorce papers came in the mail. The
official story was that losing the baby had been too hard on our
relationship. But I knew the truth. I had, once again, failed to be the
kind of man a woman needs. My father had been right all along, but what he
didn't know was that I was worse than just a failure. I was evil. I
actually enjoyed hurting women. So then you came along, Scully. I did
everything in my power not to care about you because I knew that, if I
started to care, then I would want you. That's why I can never have you,
Scully. Because, if I did, then I would hurt you, too. I'm not a normal
man. I'm sick, twisted. I get off watching porno flicks and I jack off
until it hurts, and I still can't make the pain inside me go away. I've
even imagined it was you I was fucking. That's how sick I am, Scully. So,
if you know what's best for you, you'll just walk away now. Go out that
door and don't come back. Put in for a transfer. I won't stop you. Just go,
before it's too late, before I allow myself to destroy someone else."

			********************************
	And that was then end of his story. Many years of pain and anguish
condensed into two hours of monologue spilled forth, and he had not even
looked at me. He stood up and walked as far away from me as the room would
allow, staring out the window into the almost-morning.

	"Why aren't you leaving, Scully? You asked for this and I gave it to you.
I told you my dirty little secret. Why don't you leave?"

	"No."

	"No! Are you crazy?"

	"No, and neither are you, Mulder. Just confused. I love you, and nothing
you can say or have said to me so far is ever going to change that."

From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw" <aerierlh@gnv.fdt.net>
TITLE: Alive part 4 of 10



	When I told him that I wasn't leaving, he finally turned around to face
me. The look in his eyes frightened me then, but I stood my ground. It was
as if he was not so much looking at me as through me.

	"I am a rapist, Scully. I hurt women. I am the kind of person we put
behind bars. What is it that I am failing to get through to you?"

	"Mulder, I am not condoning what you did to Phoebe. It was wrong. But so
was what she did to you. Diana was another story entirely. I'm not saying
that I, personally, find that kind of relationship to be healthy; but I can
understand why you did. I don't want to get into a discussion of how she
knew so much about you and your likes and dislikes, but I do believe that
she knew things that were outside the scope of just casual knowledge. She
preyed on you, Mulder, using what she knew to fit herself to your needs.
She toyed with you, just like Phoebe did. I won't do that, Mulder."

	"Aren't you even the least bit afraid of me? Jesus, Scully. I can't even
touch you without taking a chance that I might lose control."

	The anguish in his eyes as he said that to me was almost unbearable. I am
the first to admit that some of the things he had admitted to me were a
little bit overwhelming, frightening, even. But I also knew Mulder. I knew
his propensity to berate himself for things, to make them out to be worse
than what they actually were. I was telling the truth when I said that I
loved him, that I would stay with him, and that I felt that, although what
he had done to Phoebe was wrong, he was not completely to blame. Diana was
definitely another issue. I firmly believed, and I still believe now, even
more so than I did at the time, that someone had gotten to her. She had
known in advance all about Phoebe, about Mulder's taste in X-rated movies,
and she had used this knowledge to twist him into some sort of living
parody of the kind of person he already feared that he was. To say that I
wasn't a little bit afraid would have been a lie. I wasn't sure what I felt
at that particular moment. I trusted Mulder, but I also knew that until he
trusted himself he could be a threat to me. I knew that he wouldn't harm me
intentionally, but I was well aware that he was walking a fine line between
sanity and complete mental breakdown. What he had revealed to me tonight
was, in his mind, his final attempt to push me away. If I had left him, I
do not doubt that I would never have seen him again. Not alive, at least. I
knew that I needed to gain his trust, but I didn't know how to begin. I
started simple, and prayed that it would be enough.

	"Mulder, you touch me all the time. You hold my hand, you guide me along
with your hand at my back, you hold me when I need you. You do all of these
things every day. You've never hurt me before. What makes this any
different?"

	Before, we were friends, partners. Now, everything has changed. We can't
go back to what we were before, but we can't go forward either. It's too
dangerous, Scully."

	"No, it isn't." I had him talking, at least. Now all I needed to do was
keep him focused on me, on my words. "Why don't you at least come back over
here and sit down?"

	"No."

	"Why not?"

	"It's too dangerous."

	"Okay. If you won't come to me, I'll go to you." I took a deep breath to
gather my nerves and stood up. I walked straight towards him and he looked
at me like a caged animal, but he didn't run away. It was a good start, at
least, so I took the next step. I reached out and took his hand in mine.
This time, he did try to pull away, but I wouldn't let go.

	"Scully, come on. Give it up. This isn't going to work. What do I have to
say to you to make you realize that I am NOT NORMAL! I am DANGEROUS!" 

	He was screaming at me and I was holding on. I looked him straight in the
eye and I didn't flinch. We stared at each other and I did not back down.
Slowly, his eyes lost the angry glint and began to soften. Then, he was
crying again and I took advantage of his momentary weakness to pull him
back to the sofa. I did not take him in my arms, though I wanted to. I just
sat beside him and held his hand and let him cry. I stroked his fingers
gently, establishing a simple, yet soothing pattern of tracing my thumb
gently across the back of his hand. After a while, his tears subsided and
he looked at me again.

	"You're not going to give up, are you?" he asked.

	"No."

	"Why? Why can't I make you understand?"

	"That's where you're wrong, Mulder. I do understand. I can't help you
change the past. I can't make any of this go away. But I do know that it's
not really who you are. You have stood by my side for six years. I know you
better than any of them. People make mistakes, but they also make changes."

	"But I haven't changed. That's the problem. I still get my kicks by
watching porno movies and fantasizing about them. Shit, I even fantasize
about you while I'm watching them. Yet you are still willing to sit here
beside me and hold my hand after I tell you all of this. I just don't
understand you."

	"First off, Mulder, while I am not exactly a fan of adult entertainment, I
don't think there's really anything sick or wrong about it. As long as it
doesn't get out of hand. Now, people who go out and rent those faces of
death videos, they have a problem, but you, I think, just have some
unresolved issues."

	"Rape fantasies are unresolved issues, Scully?"

	"Yes, as long as they are just that, fantasies."

	"But I did more than just fantasize."

	"With Phoebe, yes. And that is something you will have to live with for
the rest of your life. But I don't think it's something you will ever do
again. And I'm not even really sure it was rape, Mulder."

	"Don't justify it, Scully."

	"Okay, I won't. But you still have to come to terms with it. Forgive
yourself."

	"Maybe I could have done that if I hadn't repeated the whole process with
Diana. After what happened with Phoebe, I was physically sick. I never
thought I could let it happen again. But I did. And I enjoyed it."

	"No, you enjoyed something entirely different, Mulder. You enjoyed a
consensual relationship that was based on an elaborate fantasy."

	"Maybe, Scully, but our child was NOT a fantasy! I murdered our child!"

	Now we were into serious territory because I can honestly say that, even
then, I wasn't exactly certain that there had ever been a child. "Mulder,
did you ever talk to her doctor?"

	"About what?"

	"About how she lost the baby."

	"No. She told me how."

	"And you believed her?"

	"Why shouldn't I?"

	Ouch, that one hurt, but I held my tongue and gave him the condensed and
edited version of what I was really thinking at the time. "Well, for
starters, when a woman loses a child she is angry, she wants to blame
someone. You were there to blame."

	"But she said that it was my fault."

	"It takes two to play the kinds of games you were playing, Mulder." I
didn't really want to ask the next question, but I had to. "Exactly what
kinds of things did you do, sexually?"

	"You don't really want to know the answer to that, do you?"

	I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Yes, I do. As a doctor, I can
tell you whether or not it was likely that something you did caused her to
miscarry."

	He squeezed my hand tighter, seeking reassurance, before he began, and I
took this as a good sign. He wasn't pulling away, at least.

	"Okay. Mostly, she wanted me to sneak up on her, tie her up or handcuff
her. She would struggle and I would rip her clothes off of her, or cut them
off sometimes. She would beg me to stop and I wouldn't. I would touch her,
tease her, force her to suck me off, things like that. Sometimes, she would
hold her legs together and I would force them apart and take her. other
times, I'd tease her until she begged me to do her. I'd make her dress a
certain way or call her a bitch or my slave. things like that."

	"Anything else?"

	"Like what?"

	I had to fight the urge to keep from laughing. Not that I had ever done
anything like this, but, so far, all I saw was a little bit of harmless
bondage, role playing. "Did you ever hit her?"

	"No. Never."

	"Mulder, she was upset, maybe, but I don't think you caused her to lose
the baby. You would have had to do a lot more than any of what you have
just described to me to make her have a miscarriage."

	He turned away from me, obviously embarrassed. "Maybe you're right,
Scully, but it doesn't make it right."

	"Mulder, it sounds like what you and Diana did was right for you. It may
not be right for everyone, but it isn't sick."

	"I feel sick. When I think about it, I feel repulsed. Yet, at the same
time, it turns me on." He pulled away and distanced himself from me before
he continued. "I have dreams, Scully, and in my dreams I do those things to
you. Only worse, because you really don't want me to do them. Then I get
out of control and I hurt you, like I always hurt you. Look at all of the
ways I've hurt you. When I wake up in the morning, I feel so sick that I
don't know how to face the day."

	"Mulder, you're confused. You have never hurt me. Things have happened
that have been beyond your control and I have gotten hurt. We have gotten
hurt. It is a part of who we are. But you're mixing that part up with your
feelings for me."

	"I don't know what I feel anymore, Scully."

	"Yes, you do."

	I managed to maneuver myself so that I was seated beside him again, but he
was up an moving in a matter of moments. When I looked up at him, I found
myself facing down the barrel of a gun.

	"Get out, Scully. Now!"

	I guess Mulder underestimated a lot of things about me, not the least of
which was the extent of my physical strength when provoked. I was never
afraid for myself, not even slightly. If he had truly been able to shoot
me, he would have done so before, with Modell. We would have stayed like
that, at an impasse, he holding the gun, me staring back at him passively,
forever, had he not turned the gun on himself.

	I reacted and he was not prepared. I even had the presence of mind to be
thankful that, at the time, no fish were living in the aquarium, which
received the force of the stray bullet. Better a ten dollar tank,
replaceable at the local K-Mart, then Mulder's head.

	In the end, that was all that was damaged. I had him subdued and in
handcuffs, face down on the sofa with his arms behind his back, before he
could even react. In retrospect, the most amusing aspect of the entire
situation was the simple fact that none of the neighbors ever alerted the
police, although the gunshot was definitely audible throughout the
building. I guess they were used to this by now. Having Fox Mulder for a
neighbor could never be seen as dull.

	As soon as he realized that he had lost control of the situation, Mulder
ceased to function on any discernible level. I had expected anger, a
struggle, even tears at this point. He gave me nothing, not even a sound. I
knelt by the sofa and gently rolled him onto his back. His eyes were open,
but it was as if he were looking at something very far away. Catatonic. I
checked his pulse. It was slow, but steady. He was waiting. I knew that it
would be quite a while before I could safely remove the handcuffs, so I did
the next best thing, I tried to make him as comfortable as I possibility
could.

	He did not protest as I placed the pillow beneath his head. When I bent to
remove his shoes, I was reminded of the way it feels to maneuver a cadaver,
not a living, breathing human being. It was only then that the extent of my
terror became apparent. It was as if he were already dead. I covered him
with a blanket and perched beside him, cradling his head against my lap. He
did not move, except for when I physically shifted him. I stroked his hair
away from his face, soothingly as possible, and I wanted to cry. I would
have given anything, at that moment, even my own life, to bring him back to
me. I was as lost as he was, and I had never felt so completely alone.


From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw" <aerierlh@gnv.fdt.net>
TITLE: Alive part 5 of 10

I don't know how long I sat beside him that way, stroking his head and
whispering "I love you," and "Please," to no avail, probably no more than a
few minutes, but it could have been hours. The telephone rang and my first
reaction was to look at the clock. It was nine in the morning. Sunday
morning. 7 hours. 7 long hours of hell. The phone was still ringing. Mulder
does not have many friends, none that would call this early on a weekend.
Skinner was a possibility, but why? Telephone solicitors, at least those
who want to escape with their lives, do not call people at nine o'clock on
a Sunday morning. The phone was still ringing. I answered it.

	"Agent Scully." Frohike. It was a statement, not a question. His voice
held no trace of surprise at the fact that I was answering Mulder's phone
at this hour of the morning on a weekend.

	"Yes."

	"We have been monitoring the situation. Go to the computer and retrieve
Mulder's E-mail. The password is Red." 

	Why was I not surprised?

	"You will be receiving some files. They, too, are password protected. I
believe you will be able to figure out the password without too much
effort. What you will find, when you open these files, should prove to be
quite....enlightening."

	I didn't know what to say. I wanted a savior and I had gotten one,
unlikely as it may have seemed. I wasn't sure whether I should be thanking
them for their concern or planning their executions for listening in on a
very private conversation. In the end, my desperation for help of any kind
won.

	"Thank you. All of you."

	"Oh, and Agent Scully, there are three guns in the apartment. The first,
you already have in your possession. There is one more wedged between the
matters and the liner in the bedroom, right side, by the headboard. The
third is in a container of cookies and cream ice cream in the freezer."

	"Thank you, Frohike. I ... appreciate your concern."

	"Any time. Take care of him."

	I stopped him before he could hang up the phone. "Oh, and Frohike."

	"Yes?"

	"Turn off the bugs."

	"Yes Ma'am."

	"All of them."

	I hung up the phone without waiting for his reply. He knew that I would
call him if I needed anything, and I knew that at least one of the devices
would continue to be monitored until they felt certain I had the situation
in hand. I went to the computer and began downloading the files. The
password, I got in one try. "Bitch." My feelings, exactly.

	While the files were in transit, I checked on Mulder. He had not even
moved. He didn't seem to have been aware that the conversation had taken
place. I bent down and placed a brief kiss on his forehead, whispered "I
love you," once more and set to working collecting things in a large trash
can. I retrieved all of the guns as well as kitchen knives, razor blades, a
letter opener, shards of broken fish tank and the baseball bat. I added my
own weapon to the stash and raced down the stairs, in too much of a hurry
to wait for the elevator, and deposited all of my stash into the trunk of
my car. I slammed the trunk shut with the keys inside. I would deal with
that little problem later. You can never be too careful.

	Upon returning to the apartment, I was almost surprised to discover that
even in my absence Mulder had not moved a muscle that I could see. I didn't
like that at all, but I needed to see to the files. If the gunmen had been
confident enough in them to send them to me, then they had to be critical.
I was not disappointed.

	The first file was a complete medical history on one Diana Fowley. It
seemed that, as a teenager, Miss Fowley had been admitted into the hospital
with suspicious lumps on her ovaries. When she was discharged it was
without a significant portion of her female anatomy. She had undergone a
total hysterectomy. There was never a baby. It was all a lie.

	This file was, to say the least, interesting. However, it was the second
file that caused me to want to leave the apartment immediately, track her
down and kill her where she stood. Apparently Miss Fowley had done quite an
extensive amount of graduate research in Psychology. In particular, her
focus was on the ways in which the power of suggestion can be used to
modify a subject's behavior patterns and belief systems. As I scanned the
multiple pages of documentation, case studies and test results, several
lines stood out in my mind:

Subjects drawn from a group in which they had received little or no love in
their family environment as children were most readily susceptible to
programming.

The easiest trait to condition within a subject is the trait which he or
she most abhors.

Non-violent subjects can easily be conditioned to believe themselves to be
violent as a result of low dosages of the test drug, combined with the
power of suggestion and the lure of an emotional reward for the conditioned
behavior.

One test subject had been successfully conditioned to view himself as a
sexual deviant and had come to find enjoyment only in performing sexual
acts he initially found distasteful.

	I wanted to kill her. Had she stood before me, at that very moment, I
probably would have done so, bare handed. Fortunately for her, I had more
important matters with which to contend. 

	I knelt beside Mulder's still body, caressing his hair. "Mulder? I know
you can hear me. I need you to listen to me, please. Just this once, for
me, okay?"

	He didn't answer, didn't do anything at all to indicate to me that he had
heard a word I had said, but I continued anyway. I told him all of it. I
told him that there had never been a baby. I read the reports, word for
word, about Diana's research. When I reached the end, when all of it was
laid bare before him, he still had not responded. But, when I looked up at
him, his eyes were wet and a tear was forming. I kissed his cheek where the
moisture fell, kissed his eyelids and held him in my arms. Gently, I undid
the handcuffs. If I wanted him to trust me, I knew that I would have to
trust him.

	When he finally spoke, his first words tore me apart. "She never loved
me."

	"No, Mulder, she didn't. But I do. I love you."

	"You're the only one who ever held me, Scully."

	"I've got you now, Mulder. It will all work out. I promise you."

	"Just hold me." It was such a simple request. I gathered him up as closely
as I could, sitting with him on the sofa, and I held him. Finally, I was
allowed to cry. I cradled him in my arms, stroking his cheek, tangling my
fingers through his hair and letting my tears fall freely onto his body.

	Hours later, we slept.

From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw" <aerierlh@gnv.fdt.net>
TITLE: Alive part 6 of 10


	"Hey." he said to me, turning in the chair to get a better look in my
direction. He turned on the lamp at the desk and I could see that he was
still exhausted. His face was pale and he still wore the same clothes he
had on the night before.

	"Hey, yourself. How long have you been up?"

	"Not long. I didn't want to wake you. I was going to get us some food, but
I was afraid you'd worry if you woke up and I was gone.

	"Thanks. I would have."

	We just looked at each other. So much had happened, and I didn't know
exactly what to say to him. He looked so vulnerable, so lost.

	 "Come sit with me. I miss you."

	I was afraid that he would turn me down, but he didn't. He laid the papers
on his desk and came to sit beside me. This time, his arms encircled my
body and he held me.

	"How are you, Mulder?"

	"Scared."

	"Of what?" I buried myself as close to him as possible, wanting to feel
him, to know that he was really still here.

	"Of this. Of everything, Scully. It's all changed now. I know the truth
about Diana, but it doesn't make it all better."

	"She coerced you into believing things that weren't true, Mulder, about
yourself and about her."

	"I know, and if she were the only one that might make it okay. But what
about Phoebe. What excuses that?"

	"Nothing, Mulder."

	"See what I mean. That will never go away."

	"No, but we all make mistakes. We just have to learn to forgive
ourselves."

	"It sounds so easy, but it isn't. What if I do it again? What if something
happens and I turn on you?" 

	He pulled away from me, holding on to my shoulders and forcing me to look
him in the eye as he said this.

	"Mulder, it isn't going to happen. You were a troubled college kid. She
manipulated you and you reacted. It isn't going to happen again."

	"I'm scared, Scully. I don't know how to love you."

	"Do you?"

	"Do I what?"

	"Love me?"

	"Yes." It was a whisper, but I knew that he meant it.

	"Then we'll learn together."

	"I'm afraid to even touch you, Scully."

	"You're touching me now." I reached up to place my hands over his as they
rested on my shoulders. "You touch me all the time."

	"That's different."

	"True, but it's a start. We have to start somewhere. And we don't have to
build this relationship overnight. When I said I love you, I didn't mean
that I love you just for now. Believe it or not, I have never said those
words to anybody outside my blood relatives. I don't just say things like
that. It's a forever thing, Mulder."

	"Forever?"

	"Does that scare you?"

	"No."

	He pulled me into his arms again and he was crying. We held each other.
Tentatively, I could feel him begin to slide his hands up and down my back,
gently. I did the same to him. It felt good. better than good, it felt
right.

	"Mulder?" I knew that, if we were ever going to put things back together
again, we had to face reality. "You need a shower, and we need food, and
it's getting late."

	"Yeah. You're right."

	He pulled away, reluctantly. His eyes were dark and his face was less pale
than it had been before. He smiled at me and I smiled back, our faces only
inches apart. I wanted to kiss him, but I was afraid to push for too much
too soon. In the end, he made my decision for me.

	"Scully?"

	"Hmm?"

	"May I kiss you?"

	"Yes."

	It wasn't exactly heavenly, but it was close enough. Our lips met softly.
He tasted of sweat and tears. He was soft and gentle. It wasn't a
passionate kiss and it didn't evolve into one either. There was plenty of
time to ease into that next step. it was enough just to feel his lips on
mine and to know that he loved me.

	"I love you, Scully."

	"I love you, too. Now go shower. I'll order Chinese. Delivered. I get the
shower after you."

	"Yes ma'am." was his reply and I knew that a hint of the old Mulder was
sneaking back in. 

	As soon as he was out of the room and I heard the shower running, I called
Chang's and ordered take-out, lots of it. Then I called my mother to let
her know that I was still alive. I usually call her on Sundays, but I had
been a bit busy. I called Skinner, as well. At home. I told him that Mulder
and I were going to be taking some personal leave. He didn't seem all that
surprised.

	"When was the last time either of you had a vacation, Agent?"

	"I don't know, sir."

	"Stress is one of the leading causes of poor performance in the workplace,
agent. I strongly suggest, in fact, I make it an order, that the two of you
take a full 3 weeks vacation, paid of course, starting, let's say tomorrow
morning. Just E-mail me any reports that you're working on. Don't even
bother coming in."

	"Thank you, Sir."

	"The paranormal can wait, Scully. Take care of each other."

	I knew, then, that he knew that things were changing between Mulder and I.
Essentially, he had given us his blessing. Three weeks. Not a lot of time
to try and erase the past, but more than I had hoped for. 

	By the time I had finished making my calls, Mulder had turned off the
shower. I went into the kitchen and rummaged about for a couple of
moderately clean plates and some utensils. I made some fresh iced tea, as
well. I returned to the living room just in time to see Mulder exit the
bedroom. He was wearing only a pair of light yellowish beige pajama bottoms
and his hair was wet and rumpled. I stopped what I was doing and just
stared at him. It was not as if I had never seen him with this few clothes
on. I've seen him with no clothes on, actually. It was just that I had
never seen him as the man I love standing half naked and disheveled before
me. He was beautiful. There are no words that can adequately describe what
I saw in him at that moment, but it was a combination of things like love,
trust, sadness, fear, hope and desperation, all at the same time. I
couldn't speak. I couldn't move. This time, he rescued me.

	"Shower's free, Scully. I left you a clean pair of sweats and a T-shirt.
And a clean towel."

	"Thanks. Food is on its way."

	He crossed the floor and held out his arms to me. I went to him, gladly,
and he gathered me up as close to his chest as possible. We stood in that
embrace for several minutes. Breathing in the damp smell of him was almost
intoxicating to me. I realized that I could stay like this all night and
that would be what heaven was like. But he was trembling, and I could feel
his heart pounding against my cheek.

	"Mulder, I love you." I whispered to the soft hairs on his chest, and he
held me even tighter.

	"If you keep on saying that, maybe my sick, twisted mind will someday let
me believe you."

	I pulled back from him, slightly, just enough to see his face. We
communicate better, sometimes, without words. This time, however, his eyes
told me nothing. They were distant. I led him, gently, to the sofa and we
sat side by side. 

	"Scully, what do you see when you look at me. I mean, what do you really
see?"

	I took a moment to answer him, because I sensed that this was truly
important. "Well, I see a strong, intelligent man. I see a person who is
deeply committed to his beliefs, who is honest and caring. But I also see a
lot of pain and a need for love. I see a little boy who never got a chance
to grow up. But, most of all, I see something so beautiful and special. I
feel love, and I know that the love I see in your eyes is for me. Do you
have any idea how that makes me feel?"

	"Tell me."

	"Alive. It makes me feel alive, Mulder. I have cheated death so many
times, and it has always been because of you, because of your love. You
make me complete."

	I reached forward and traced the line of his face with my fingertips and
he drew back slightly.

	"Don't pull away. Trust me."

	"I do trust you."

	I touched him again, and this time he allowed me to continue, drawing
gentle arcs across his slightly stubbled skin. He closed his eyes and
exhaled deeply, leaning in to the pressure. He brought one hand up to the
side of my face and mimicked my actions. His touch was electric and I
shivered with pleasure at the contact. Again, he drew away.

	"You see, Scully. When I touch you now, after all that I have told you, It
makes you afraid."

	"No, Mulder." I laughed, softly. "Not afraid. It feels good. Incredibly
good."

	I took his hand in mine and replaced it against my face, holding it there,
encouraging him to explore, to feel. I locked my eyes to his and leaned
towards him, drawing us closer. I could feel his breath, warm against my
lips. Simultaneously we closed the distance, lips to lips, kissing gently.
This time, I allowed my tongue to trace the moist flesh of his mouth,
seeking entrance. He opened himself to me, hesitantly at first, afraid to
let go. Cautiously, I expanded my exploration of his mouth, touching his
tongue to mine, and he returned the gesture. I could feel the energy
building up inside me. For the first time in my life, I had to consciously
struggle to keep from losing control as we melted together. His kisses grew
more and more passionate, deepening until he was crushing my mouth against
his. His hands came up to tangle in my hair and I drew my arms around his
neck, holding him steady, encouraging him to drink his fill of me. It was
an explosive experience. I could feel the moisture building between my
legs. I was dizzy, drunk with the taste of him. He was slightly salty,
leftover sunflower seeds, and mint from his toothpaste and something else,
something unique and beyond description. I wanted to stay there, locked in
his embrace, forever.

	A knock at the door was the catalyst that finally drew us apart.
Breathlessly I fell back against the sofa cushions, face flushed with
pleasure.

	"I'll get that. You go shower."

	He was embarrassed. I could tell from the tone of his voice that he had
not anticipated going this far this fast. As for myself, I had wanted to go
even farther, but I knew that this process would take a lot of time. I was
willing to wait for him. I had waited this long.

	I kissed him softly once more as encouragement and he rewarded me with a
smile; then we went our separate ways, he to the door and me to the
bathroom. I had visions of a cold shower. Men are definitely not the only
sex to get hot and bothered!

	In the bathroom I discovered clean, soft towels, an unopened tooth brush,
shampoo, conditioner and clean clothes laid out neatly for me. I smiled at
his thoughtfulness and was once again reminded of just how horrible his
life had been. it amazed me that someone who had never known love could
feel so deeply.

	A part of me wondered how long it would be before he was ready to take the
next step, to make love to me completely and physically. I wanted that,
but, at the same time, I was afraid. Mulder was not the only one with
secrets. I had loved him from a distance for a long time, never really
believing that he could ever be mine. I had waited for him, but not just
for the six years we had been together.  

	I had boyfriends growing up. I experienced a fairly normal childhood.
While training for the FBI, I had even been seriously involved with
someone. I had also come very close, in a time of desperation, to falling
into bed with a drugged psychopath. But I hadn't. Ever. As strange as it
may seem, and in part due to my strict Catholic upbringing, Dana Katherine
Scully was a thirty-six year old virgin. I had waited my entire life to
give myself to one man, forever. That man was Fox William Mulder. I knew
this without question. What I didn't know was how to tell him.  

From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw" <aerierlh@gnv.fdt.net>
TITLE: Alive part 7 of 10

Dinner was a quiet affair. We sat at opposite ends of the sofa, silently
eating our food, and avoiding eye contact. I think, for Mulder, the
seriousness of the past hours was finally embedding itself in his
consciousness. I wanted to go to him, but I knew that the next move had to
be his. I could scare him off so easily. So I sat there, comforting myself
with the fact that the clothes I was wearing, his sweats, carried his scent
with them. It was like having his arms around me, only less satisfying.
Mulder broke the silence.

	"I guess you need to be getting home soon."

	"No, Mulder. I'll stay with you."

	"You don't need to do that. I can take care of myself. Besides, it's not
as if you've left me anything useful to do myself in with." He forced a
small, weak laugh.

	"True. But that's part of the problem."

	"I don't follow you." He started up, gathering the remains of our meal and
heading for the kitchen.

	"I locked my keys in the trunk of the car. Along with the guns and any
sharp objects I could find."

	"Shit, Scully. I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

	"Shut up, Mulder." I was getting a trifle irritated at him and his chronic
feelings of self - deprecation. "I don't want to lose you. Not now. Not
ever. If you want to blame someone, blame your Father. Blame Diana. for
that matter, blame Phoebe! It's not as if she was some kind of innocent
victim!" 

	I was angry. I realized, at that point, that no matter how the situation
had turned out, Mulder was not entirely to blame for his actions. I stood
up and walked into the kitchen, following Mulder, and came up swiftly
behind him. I grabbed his shoulders, much more forcefully that I had
intended and spun him to face me. He closed his eyes tightly against my
wrath. He honestly believed that I was going to hurt him.

	"God, Mulder. I'm sorry. Open your eyes, please. Look at me. I'm not going
to hit you. I could never do anything like that. I love you. Please,
believe me."

	His face softened and he looked at me, timidly. "I know, Scully. I believe
you. But that doesn't change the fact that we need to get you home so you
can get some sleep. I'll give you a ride and then I'll pick you up in the
morning. We can call a locksmith from the office."

	"We aren't going to the office tomorrow, Mulder."

	"What?"

	I was nervous as to what his reaction would be when I told him about my
conversation with Skinner, but I forged on, seemingly undaunted. "We're on
vacation. Three weeks. It's been approved. The paranormal will have to get
on without us for a while, Mulder."

	"How?"

	"I would imagine the same way it has for centuries. Surely you don't
believe that you corner the market on the unexplained?" I knew that was not
the question he was asking, but my answer seemed to put him at ease.

	"Skinner's okay with all of this?"

	"He cares about you, Mulder. He cares about us."

	 "How much did you tell him?"

	"Nothing."

	"Seriously, Scully."

	"Seriously, Mulder. I told him nothing more than the fact that we needed
some time off. I was hoping for a day, I got us three weeks. It's not an
eternity, but maybe we can make the most of it." I drew my arms up around
his neck and held him to me. He returned the gesture, clasping me firmly in
his embrace.

	"Scully, I'm not sure how long it'll take me to feel okay about this,
about us. I want to try, but I don't want to make you feel like you have to
keep on waiting for me."

	It was now or never. I looked him straight in the eyes when I spoke. "I've
been waiting for 36 years. What's a few more weeks?"

	He was speechless, for all of ten seconds. That had to have been some sort
of Mulder-record. "Scully, you're...you've never...I mean..."

	"Stop stammering, Mulder. I'm a good Catholic girl. This surprises you?"

	"No. I mean, yes. I mean... what about...?"
	
	"No. Never. Not with anyone. Not until now. Not until you."

	I kissed him, soundly on the lips. I didn't want to talk about this now. I
wanted him to know that I loved him more than anyone else, ever. He
returned my kiss, but he kept the passion in check, blocking the seeking
motion of my tongue with his tightly closed lips.

	"Scully, slow down. God, I don't want to hurt you. I can't do this." He
pulled away and returned to the living room, flopping heavily on the sofa
and burying his head in his hands. "You deserve so much more. Don't you
understand that?"

	I followed him and sat beside him, placing one hand on his knee and
ruffling the other through his hair. "It's not about what you think I
deserve. It's about what I want. I want you."

	He looked up at me, then, and his eyes took on a deep shade that was
almost black in the encroaching darkness. "Then marry me, Scully."

	I almost fainted, right then and there. I know that I swayed a bit,
because his strong arms were there to steady me. I fell against him,
sobbing, overwhelmed, but with enough presence of mind to say the word he
needed to hear. "Yes."

	"Stay here." He whispered into my ear, and leaned me gently back against
the sofa cushions. 

	I opened my eyes to see where he was going. he walked out of the living
room and into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. I listened
carefully, for a moment, and heard nothing but silence. Then, I heard his
voice. Thank God for thin walls.

	"Mrs. Scully? This is Fox.........Dana's fine........I'm wonderful, Mrs.
Scully. Listen, I'm sorry for calling so late....you
were?....really.....No, she's here with me. Anyway, I called because I need
to ask you a very important question. I would ask you in person, but I need
to know the answer......yes, I'm still here......Mrs. Scully, may I have
permission to ask your daughter to marry me?.....Actually, yes, I
have.....she said yes......but, I won't if.....thank you, thank you Mrs.
Scully.....I will.....I love you, too, Mom."

	It was my turn to be speechless. He had actually asked my mother for her
blessing. I had known she would give it to him, but he hadn't. The sheer
courage that it must have taken him to make that call astounded me, made me
love him even more. When he returned, his eyes were red and his cheeks
glistened. He was carrying a small, velvet box.

	"You heard that, didn't you?"

	"Yes." I croaked my response.

	He walked softly towards me and bent down on one knee, handing the box to
me as he searched my face for some sign of my emotions. "I want to do this
right, and to give you a chance to back out, if you want to. Dana Katherine
Scully, will you marry me?"

	I opened the box and found inside of it a beautiful antique diamond ring.
At first I assumed it had been a family heirloom, until I looked at the
inscription. "To my Scully. You make me whole. Mulder."

	"Yes." There was no hesitation in my voice this time. I held out my hand
and let the tears flow freely as he slipped the ring onto my finger.

	"I have wanted to do this for so long, Scully. So many things held me
back. I never once believed that, after everything I told you, I would
still have this chance, this gift. I love you."

	He gathered me into his arms and pulled me with him to the floor. We
laughed and cried and kissed until we were exhausted. It was after 11:00
according to the digital clock on the desk. Not even 24 hours had passed
since this ordeal began. So much had happened. I should have been
emotionally drained, but I wasn't. I felt so full of life, so engorged on
the promise of a tomorrow, that I didn't even want to think about sleep.
But I knew that we needed to rest, to recover. There were so many more
things we still needed to talk about. It wasn't going to be easy just to
forget about the past. I knew that Mulder needed more than just this moment
to heal completely.

	"Mulder, Sweetheart?"

	"Yeah?" He mumbled into my neck, and I could feel the smile that came to
his lips when I used that particular term of endearment.

	"We need to get some sleep."

	"Okay." He reluctantly disengaged himself from my arms. "I'll take the
sofa. You can have my bed."

	"No. I want to stay with you. We can share the bed."

	"Scully, not yet. Let's wait, okay?"

	"I didn't say anything about sex, Mulder." He cringed at the mention of
that word, as if it were somehow repulsive to him, and I knew that this
would take a long time. "I just want to hold you. Can I do that for you,
please?"

	"I'd like that, Scully."

	"Okay. Let's go."

	We made our way to his bedroom in the semi-darkness. At first, as we lay
down together, I felt a wave of nausea. I had never slept on a water bed
before. As the minutes passed in silence, with our arms wrapped tightly
around each other, however, the gentle rocking motion became a soothing
lullaby to my body and soul. I had almost drifted off to sleep when Mulder
spoke.

	"Scully?"

	"Yes, Mulder?"

	"I love you."

	"I love you, too, Sweetheart."

	He was silent for a moment and I could hear his heart beating steadily in
his chest. I could smell him, wrapped warm and musky around me. I could
feel his heat. It was almost dizzying.

	"Scully?"

	"Yes, Mulder?"

	"Say that again."

	"I love you, too, Mulder."

	"Not that." 

	"What?" I was getting foggy from the feel of him.

	"Not that way. The way you said it before."

	"Mulder, Sweetheart, you've lost me here. I'm sorry."

	"That was it."

	"What was it?"

	"What you just said.'

	"Sweetheart, I just told you that you lost me. As in, I am completely
confused."

	He chuckled, softly, into the back of my neck. "Yeah, that. I like that."

	"You like me confused?"

	"That too, but I like the other, more. I like it when you call me that."

	"Call you wha...oh, that." realization dawned on me like a herd of
elephants dancing in my livingroom. "I love you, Sweetheart."

	"G'nite Scully." He mumbled, contentedly.

	"Goodnight, Sweetheart."

	I placed my head against his chest and we slept.


From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw" <aerierlh@gnv.fdt.net>
TITLE: Alive part 9 of 10

This was real. Of all the things missing in my life, through all of the
desperate searches for meaning, the one truth that mattered had been mine
all along. That she was here in my arms, that she knew all of my secrets
and chose to remain, was not what amazed me. What drove me to the utmost
edge of wonder was the simple fact that, not only did she love me, but I
believed her with no reservations. It was like being given the other half
of my soul, for I now believed in things like God and souls and
immortality, and I knew, unequivocally, that we would be together forever;
that love, our love, was infinite.

	I was about to become only person to ever know her in the way that a man
knows a woman, yet it was so much more than a physical joining. The fact
that I was to be the first frightened me, but it was as if there was some
strange and wondrous outside force guiding me and giving me the confidence,
for once in all of my life, to know that I would do this right. 

	I kissed her softly, at first, tasting the sweetness of her lips on mine.
I closed my eyes and I could smell her, musky mingled with a light, fruity
aroma. From that moment on I knew that I would recognize her scent in the
darkness wherever we would go, like an anchor that held me to her. 

	Slowly I began to explore her face with my lips, tasting every inch of
her. I discovered her ears. They are very sensitive and she shivered as I
reached out with my tongue to tease the edge of her lobes. She was pressing
against me and I had to concentrate to keep from moving too fast. I could
feel my erection straining to be inside of her, but it would have to wait.
This time was for her.

	I traced the side of her face with my tongue and worked my way down to her
neck.  When I reached the bottom, the little V-shaped place where her
breastbone begins, she trembled and her breathing began to quicken. I
placed my ear against her chest through the fabric of the sweatshirt she
wore, mine in theory but already filled with the scent of her, and listened
to her heart. I could actually hear the increase in pace. 

	I touched her breasts gently through the fabric. She arched her back to
press them more fully into my hands. I kissed her again, more urgently this
time, and she kissed me back with so much passion that I began to feel as
though I would not survive the pain of my passion long enough to take it
slow. Her own hands reached out to touch my chest, and I gave her the
moment, allowing her to set the pace.

	"Do you want me to take off my shirt yet, Scully?"

	She could not answer me in words, just nodded and gazed, yes gazed, at me
with big, open, trusting blue eyes. I pulled the shirt off over my head and
watched as she chewed on her lower lip, studying my naked chest. She had
seen it before, but it was like she was seeing me for the first time. 

	My Scully is a very quick learner. She took her moment to appreciate what
she saw and then, as with everything else she does, she began a thorough
exploration. It was my turn to feel the heartpounding sensation of
anticipated pleasure. Her delicate hands explored my chest, inch by inch,
resting, at last, on my nipples. She circled them, then teased them, and I
thought that I would explode from delight. But she was not through with me
yet. She brought her swollen lips down and closed them over one nipple and
I could be silent no longer. My gasp astonished her and she pulled away to
look in my eyes.

	"Is that okay?"

	"Yes." I choked on my reply. "That is more than okay, but I need you to
stop for a minute."

	"Why?" 

	She looked so childlike when she asked me that question. "It's been a long
time since I've been with someone like this, Scully. I want to be able to
last for more than ten seconds. At the very least, I want to be inside of
you before this is over."

	I think I may have frightened her with that comment, and I almost
regretted saying it, but she took in a hesitant breath and brought her
hands down to the hem of her own shirt. I stopped her. "I want to undress
you," I whispered.

	She nodded her acceptance, and I drew the material over her head, tossing
it casually to the floor. 

	"My God, you are beautiful." 

	There I was, staring at her breasts like I had never seen a woman before
in my life, and I was about to cry again. I could feel the tears building
up behind my eyelids. I had seen her naked before, but now I understood the
wonder she must have felt seeing me only moments before. I brought my hands
to rest gently on her breasts, caressing them first, then kneading them
softly. She was leaning into my hands, pushing me deeper into her skin. I
thumbed her nipples and watched as they grew tall and hard. When I closed
my mouth around one of the peaks, she gasped and began to moan. Instinct
took over, showing my mouth what she liked the most. Gentle tongue flicks
caused her to breathe in sharply and quiver against me. Deep, suckling
motions elicited moaning sounds from deep in the back of her throat. The
best, however, was the way she reacted when I chanced a quick, bitelike
grasp with my teeth on the very tip of her nipple. She screamed then, and
bucked her hips against my side.

	"Mulder, that, that's...oh, God, that's..."

	"Good?" 

	"Yes," she replied through tightly clenched teeth as I began to work on
the other breast in the same fashion. 

	I pushed her gently to the bed and covered her with the length of my body,
allowing her to relax, as best she could, in the gentle waves of the
mattress, and giving myself even greater access to her body. When I
finished with her breasts, I began to taste my way across her abdomen,
nibbling and licking and kissing as she writhed beneath me making pleasured
squeaks and sighs. I was still erect, but my own desire was fast becoming
secondary to the pleasure I was getting from hearing and feeling what I was
doing to her.

	Her hands found my head just as I reached the waist band of her sweats. I
looked up and knew that she wanted me to stop. I did so, without
hesitation, and she sat up again, leaning against the head of the bed.

	"I want to see you first, please."

	I could never deny her anything she desired. I rose from the bed and stood
where she could see me as I slowly removed my sweats first, then my boxers.
I could see the fear in her eyes when she finally saw me, fully erect,
standing before her. I have had more erections than I care to think about
in the presence of Scully, but this one, I knew, was bigger than any I had
ever had, and I knew that it frightened her. I sat down on the edge of the
bed and bent forward to kiss her again, slowing us down. I took one of her
hands gently in mine and held on to it for a moment, before bringing it
slowly to rest on my cock. She touched me and I involuntarily sprang up to
meet her. She drew her hand back and clutched it to her chest.

	"It's okay, Scully. It does that, sometimes. I think it likes you."

	She laughed at that, and I saw the tension dissipate. She reached out to
touch me again, more confidently this time. I moved back fully onto the bed
and opened myself to her. She touched me, gently, stroking my shaft and I
forced myself not to respond too aggressively, although I wanted to.

	"It's so...big."

	I knew, then, what it was that was worrying her the most. As a doctor, she
was not a naive person, but clinical understanding and actual experience
are vastly different.

	"I won't lie to you, Scully. It probably will hurt, just a little, the
first time. But, the more relaxed you are, the easier it will be. And I
promise you, as much as I want to be inside of you, I won't do that until I
know you are ready."

	I kissed her again, and lowered her back down onto the mattress.  This
time, she took the lead, taking my hand and guiding it to the edge of her
waistband. I gently stripped her sweats from her body, leaving her in
nothing but a pair of pale peach cotton panties that I could already see
were saturated with her desire. I ran my hands gently up and down her legs,
encouraging her to spread them apart for me. She did so, willingly, and I
was once again rocked, emotionally, by the depth of her faith in me. 

	I moved to touch her center, wanting to feel her first through the
protective layer of fabric, allowing her to become accustomed to my touch.
As drenched as she was already, the moment my hand cupped the soft space at
the crest of her legs her juices began to pour forth like an ocean wave and
she convulsed against the palm of my hand. She lifted her hips from the bed
as best she could and I answered her encouragement by bending down to take
the sodden fabric in my mouth. I almost reached orgasm right then from the
taste of her, and she gasped.

	"What are you doing?"

	"Do you like it?"

	"Yes." At least I think she said yes. She was moaning almost incoherently
at that point. 

	I slid one finger inside the waistband of her panties and allowed myself a
brief moment of contact with her sodden clit. She screamed. My beautiful,
sensual, Scully let out a wail so loud I was grateful I have neighbors who
ignore me.

	She was moaning again as I continued to taste her, and this time I could
make out the words, almost a chant, that she was saying over and over
again. "More. Mulder. Sweetheart. I love you. Please."

	That nearly drove me over the edge. I removed the final barrier and took
one slight fraction of a second to look at her before I complied with her
pleas. I closed my mouth over her clit and pushed my tongue deep inside her
just in time to feel the first wave of her orgasm explode against my mouth.
She filled me and I could taste her flowing down my throat in a way no
woman had ever done to me before, a way I had never dreamed possible. I
drank from her open body until the spasms ceased then brought my face up
slowly to look at her.

	The color in her cheeks was as brilliant as a desert sunset, and her eyes
were enormous blue orbs reflecting shock and desire. I lay my head gently
on her stomach and waited for her breathing to return to normal. She worked
her fingers gently through my hair. 

	"Now?" she asked. 

	"Not yet," I answered her, taking this to mean she was ready to continue.
I wanted to make sure that I did not hurt her, so I began to gently tease
her engorged clit with my fingers, testing her readiness. She arched
against my hand, so I continued. Gently, slowly, I inserted one finger
inside of her. She did not make a sound, only spread her legs wider to give
me more room. From where I lay, with my head between her legs, I could see
my finger disappear inside of her, and I smiled. As delicately as possible,
I began to mimic the act itself, pumping into her with my finger. She
responded by matching my rhythm with her hips, so I added a second finger,
then a third. Soon, I was pumping into her and she was bucking against my
hand, and I knew that she was about to come again. I took her clit in my
mouth and rode her waves of ecstasy. For the second time, I gently cleaned
her with my tongue. I could never get enough of the taste of her.

	She tugged on my shoulders and drew my body up across hers. Her breathing
had, once again, returned to normal, and she brought me down to kiss her,
tasting herself on me. I could feel my cock, straining now, against the
triangle of hair at the apex of her sex.

	"Now," she said, and it was not a question this time, but a command.

	I looked deep into her soul through her beautiful eyes. 

	"I love you, Scully."

	Time stopped.

	I entered her.

	Slowly.

	Completely.

	Time started again and she was moving in rhythm with me as though we had
done this a thousand times. She reached her climax quickly and I followed
her over the edge, spilling my life inside her, making her my own.

	We lay together, side by side, cuddled close together, spent and cooling
in the early morning air.

	"I love you," I said, again. I could never say those words enough.

	"It didn't hurt."

	"What?"

	"When we made love. You said it would hurt. It didn't. It was wonderful."

	I couldn't think of anything to say to her, so I kissed her instead.

	"Do you want to know how I feel, Scully?" I finally asked her, after
exploring the depths of a mouth that I could now call my own.

	"Yes, I'd like that very much, Mulder."

	"Alive."

Epilogue
TITLE: Alive part 8 of 10
AUTHOR: Easterhawk


	It is late evening now, and Mulder is sleeping peacefully beside me. I
have his love and he has mine. Our worlds, our lives, may never be normal
or perfect or even anything close to reality, but we have each other. We
will continue to search for the truth, to protect the innocent, but we will
do it together, not just as partners, but as something infinitely more
precious. Our lives are intertwined now, inexorably, forever.

	Three weeks. I will not allow myself to think about the aliens or
conspiracies, or anything of that nature for the next three weeks. Nor will
I allow Mulder to do so. Our work will be there when we return. It always
is. For now, we have a life start, a new life, together.

	He looks so young lying there. He looks happy, for once, and at peace with
himself. He has a slight smile on his face, formed by lips that I know I
will never get enough of. I hope he is dreaming of me.

	Right before he fell asleep he told me that I gave him back his life. If
he only knew. he has given me life and so much more, time and again.
Together, we are alive.