Date sent: Sun, 30 Nov 1997 13:50:39 -0800 From: Wendy Thomas Subject: Dead Pools, by Sheena, NC-17, MSR, SRA Title: Dead Pools By: Sheena E-mail: wendyt@ucla.edu Category: SRA Summary: Sex, angst, not much plot. Rating: NC-17 Warning: MSR, ahoy mateys, sex and profanity lie ahead. If yee can't handle that sort of thing, then yer gonna have to walk the plank. Arrr! Spoilers: This is set post Memento Mori, but before the end of the 4th Season. Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Nuff said. Thanks: I would like to officially thank all the voices in my head. Feedback is very much appreciated. Dead Pools ************************* The road lies like a thread on which our car dances, edging across the tightrope strung taut between two points. It doesn't threaten to fall, it merely crawls along the thread, inching its way across the landscape, numb to the scenery it passes. My hands are folded in my lap, holding one another, but I cannot feel them. The circulation went dead about ten minutes ago and I haven't felt the need to wake them. I wonder if I just sit perfectly still, if eventually the sleep will pass through my arms, leaving them dead, and then move on to my legs, my torso, my neck. If I lie still enough, will my body forget that it's still alive? Or will it fall prey to the sleep as Sleeping Beauty would, just letting the fog of a dark spell usurp it? I wonder how long my body will lie in the earth before it rots. Mulder is driving; his eyes dart across the road, ever vigilant for. whatever. His posture is straight. He watches the road stretching out before him. He makes sure our car doesn't follow another car too closely and that we stay within a reasonable speed. He makes sure we are safe on this road. He'll pull into the next motel that looks clean enough to carry soft towels, but dirty enough to carry the Playboy Channel. Still, he looks distracted. The muscles in his jaw twitch every once in a while and the way he shifts in his seat suggests discomfort. He rolls down a window. "You don't mind, do you, Scully? Just trying to keep some fresh air in here." "Of course, Mulder." "I mean, I don't want you to be cold, I." "I don't mind, Mulder." "I should roll up the window." "Mulder.." He swiftly rolls it up and places both hands on the steering wheel before him. His jaw is tense, his eyes obscured by the darkness of the night sky. It was amazing how dark it gets at night in the country, she mused. Living in D.C., she had grown used to the perpetual fluorescent glow of night-time. I wonder why cities are so bright, she thought. Are we scared of the dark that peeks in at us from in-between the light of street lamps, trying to push it out, or is it merely that we long to create objects brighter than the stars to gaze up into at night? We want to burn down the ceiling of the universe with our fires so no one will be able to see beyond the narrow margins of our own skyline, where only science fiction writers and astronomers can live. And an FBI agent chasing the dusk too fast to let it slip from surveillance. I sigh as Mulder turns into the parking lot of a motel and attempt to stretch my hands. They're heavy and numb. He glances over at me briefly before unclasping his safety-belt and stepping out of the car to the rental office. I stay where I am. He'll come back for me in a few minutes, give me the keys, and then disappear for the night into his own room. He returns to the car with an abject look on his face. "They only have one room, Scully." "You're kidding. Didn't know two bit cheap motel rooms were so hard to come by." I heave a weary breath as I step out of the car. "Well, we can't keep driving, you've been at the wheel for hours, you need some sleep." I refrain from mentioning my own exhaustion. I have no damn excuse to be so tired. Except that I need my energy to keep out the gloom of twilight that edges in on my sentience like a maggot laying its eggs in refuse. It's just a time bomb waiting to hatch. Mulder opens the door for me and I step out, hesitantly wobbling for a moment before catching my balance. Fuck, I know he caught that one. His eyes drape over me as I move to where the door of the rooms are, trying to steady myself under his scrutiny. I just want to flee from his presence, to avoid his piteous staring. The lamb out to slaughter. To retreat from it, the charity cloaking him like cheap cologne. He unlocks the door to the motel room and I walk inside. Tossing my coat off, I fling my purse on a chair next to the doorway. He carefully closes the door behind us. "You need your rest, Mulder. I'll sleep on the chair in the corner." "Bullshit, Scully. I can sleep fine in the chair." "Save your chivalry for the next Bureau function, Mulder. That chair is too small for you to comfortably sit in." "Fine," he relents momentarily, "I'll sleep in the bathtub." "What? That's ridiculous, Mulder, you.." He interrupts me, speaking firmly but softly. "Scully, you're talking to someone who generally sleeps on a sofa in total comfort. It's fine." I gave him a long look before turning my back on him. "Fine, Mulder," she muttered, "whatever you want." I'm too tired to care. **************(tense change here)****** She was pulled from sleep by what sounded like a waterfall. It rushed at her ears and for a moment she doubted if she wasn't imagining it. It could perhaps be blood pulsating against the walls of her skull, screaming to escape. She hadn't fallen asleep easily. After listening to Mulder settle into his pseudo-bed in the bathroom she had quickly gotten changed and slipped into the double bed in the main room. It was ridiculous, she had thought, that they hadn't just slept together in the same bed. Then again, that's a typically Mulder preference; one nonsensical action after another. She had lain in bed, trying to hear his breath through the door of the bathroom. She thought that maybe if she strained her ears hard enough, that she might catch the light sounds of dozing. Her body was stiff, sore from sitting in one position for too long. Her muscles held her bones painfully, cradling them like feathers that could blow away in a breeze. Her sleep hadn't been settling. She couldn't remember her dreams but had a feeling they weren't good. She slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door of the bathroom. It was dark but the noise was definitely coming from in there. She pushed open the door. The light from the full moon cast a shadow on the bathtub across the room. Mulder was sleeping in the tub and the shower was on full blast. She approached the shower and stuck her hand under the water. She leaned in to wake him. ************* He was with Scully in a river and they were playing on a Ouiji board. The board floated like a log raft on the river yet they seemed to have no problems staying above the water's surface without having to tread water to stay afloat. Her hair was long, though, down her back, wet from the pool surrounding them. Her hands were lying over his, guiding the triangular gadget with that eyehole of clear plastic peering at the letters on the board. "You're leading it, Scully." "I'm not leading it, Mulder. I can't help where it's going." "What should we ask it?" She shrugged, and he saw that she wasn't wearing a shirt. She must be naked. The warm water flowed across his bare skin, encouraging an erection, and he knew that he must be naked, too. He leaned over the board. "I know what to ask it. I want to know where we are." The object moved under their hands. It stopped at each letter. D-E-A-D-P-O-O-L it spelled out letter by letter. "That's not really a place." She remarked pointedly. "Okay," he ventured "second question. How long have we been here?" F-O-U-R-Y-E-A-R-S "Long time." She remarked. "Four years in the same place, that's not possible. We were just on assignment in Montana. The water's too warm for Montana. This thing isn't working, Scully." The water began to bubble slightly. Scully spoke next. "Are we alone?" Y-O-U-A-R-E-A-L-O-N-E "Wait," she said "I am alone, or we are alone?" Y-E-S "How enigmatic." He said, looking at her. The water was getting hotter. Her skin was flushing pink, her hair surrounding her head, sticking to her skull. He was burning. "I'm hot, Scully. I want to leave." He turned to the board. "How do we get out of the dead pool?" The water swirled around them, creating tides in the loose nooks of space between their bodies. A-C-T "I don't get it." He raised his voice, "How do we get out of here?" A-C-T "What does that mean, Scully?" "Nothing, Mulder. It doesn't mean a thing. It's just a piece of plastic." Where is the mental process, Mulder? Why can't you just do it? Why the fucking stagnation? Isn't it obvious? Scully's eyes teared up and she began to cry silently. "Scully." "Don't you get it? It's just plastic. It can't determine anything that wasn't already true. I feel nauseous." He reached for her naked body in the pool and pulled her to him. Her skin was so smooth against his chest, her breasts bobbing slightly, peering out of the top of the water. He was so hard against her. She wrapped her legs around him and opened her mouth to him... ************************ "Mulder, what are you doing?" Mulder's hands grabbed her and pulled her into the tub. She tumbled in on top of him, straddling him, and the water hit her; a shock to the system. His hands ran up and down her body, groping and grasping at her. "Oh god." She murmured as she felt him under her, rising like the head of a snake. He was tightening his grip on her ass, pulling it to him, madly trying to furrow himself into her. "Mulder, wake up." She wailed, shaking him slightly, even as a heat spread out from inside her. An ancient, untapped heat she had left long ago to putrefy in its coffin. She could not embark on what would inevitably end in grief. She slapped him. Hard. "Wake up, Mulder!" His body quaked for a moment, and then went still. For a split second, she thought he had known what he was doing the entire time. But no. He shoved her away and she flew back, hitting her head against the metal knobs of the shower. "Shit, ohhhh shit. What the..., oh shit, are you okay?" Blood leaked out of her head, and she pressed her hand to the wound. She bit her lip to keep from crying. "I need a towel." She asserted. He climbed out of the tub, his clothes clinging to his frame while she, with her free hand, turned off the water. He returned with the towel and laid it against her head. For a moment neither of them spoke; he rubbed the towel over her head and she held her balance by pressing her palms against either side of the tub. "I was dreaming." He murmured. "You don't say. Just tell me I wasn't a stand in for one of your cyber-nymphs." More silence. "You should wash that blood off, so we can see how deep the cut is." "Okay, I'll get out in a minute." She leaned back in the tub and held the towel to her head and closed her eyes. Just for a moment, she thought. "Scully?" "In a minute, Mulder." "Maybe we should call the paramedics, Scully." "Hold on." He said. With that, he swung his leg over the side of the tub and climbed back in, first pulling off his T-shirt. "Give me that." He said, gently taking the towel from her. He pulled her head so that its top lay against his chest and she was staring straight at the crotch of his pants. He began running handfuls of water over her scalp. "Doesn't look too bad." He concluded after a few minutes. He turned off the water and pulled himself out of the porcelain basin. "Get out." He said firmly. "In a minute." "No, Scully," he affirmed, leaning over and picking her up with one swift movement "now." He brought her to the bedroom and sat her down on the foot of the bed. "Take off your clothes, Scully." Her body disappeared from her, a thousand miles away. Her spirit could not clutch at the tethers tying the corporeal body to the intangible self. She did nothing. He knelt before her and took off her wet socks. "Come on, Scully, help me out here, you'll catch your death if.." Laughter erupted from her mouth. She shook from it, her shoulders rising and falling in jerky movements. He smiled and chuckled along with her. "What, what's so funny?" "Boy did you miss the boat." She looked into his eyes, fully appreciating the macabre irony of the facts at hand. "I'm already dead." She tossed her head back and laughed as the smile faded from his lips. He leaned in and began unbuttoning her nightshirt. "That's not funny." He concentrated on the buttons before him, pushing each one between his finger-tips. She sobered and stared at him. "That's not a joke." His grip tightened on her shirt, uselessly snagging its buttons with his fingers. "Don't say those kinds of things." "Why not? It's the truth. Isn't that what you always want? The truth? Well, why should I be the one to lie when I know as well as you what the truth is? Do you want to know how the story ends, Mulder?" "You don't know that. We don't know.." "Fuck it! What am I supposed to do? Bury my head in the sand of paperwork and pray? Forget it. I don't have the faith any more. It left me when I was given cancer by the bullies on the playground. I can't pray for a useless life on a desolate planet in a deserted universe!" "No, no.." "No what?! Mulder, face it, we are alone! You know, even if there is extraterrestrial life, maybe we won't ever fucking find it! Or maybe they know we're here and they flew right by because they know our existence is just one more insignificant pit-stop in the galaxy!" He cracked then. He clenched the fabric of her shirt and shook her, tearing it from her. "That's not true! We, you...I'm not alone!" "You've been alone all your life, Mulder. We both have. We're too chicken-shit to be anything else." He froze, still clutching her shirt. What the hell does that mean? With her nightshirt almost torn off her body, he glimpsed her slender body beneath the fabric. He saw tears in her eyes. She laughed even as they streamed down her face. "I thought I had been emptied out; but there're always tears." He kissed her. He wrapped his hands behind the nape of her neck and dragged her mouth to his. She pulled away, pushing at his torso for release from his grip. His tongue moved over the outside of her lips, and she opened her mouth partway, relenting to his insistence. He firmly pushed her back on the bed and lay so that half his body covered her, preventing her from moving. What the...? What, time for a late-night quickie, alien boy? He's pulling off my night-shirt. His lips caressed her neck as his arms held her down tightly beneath him. He moved his head down, laving at her skin like a dog, out from the hot sun, slurping at its water bowl. "No, this isn't.." He licked around the outside of her aureole and then closed his mouth around her nipple. "ahhh, aghh, oh.." Like the child tugging at a kite to bring it back to the earth, the spirit she had allowed to ascend farther and farther away from reality was being drawn back to its nest. Her body quivered. "Let's just see, Scully." "No. I don't want to. No." She swung her leg around and kneed him in the stomach. "Oooff.." He bent down and held his stomach. He looked up at her. "What was that for?" She turned on her side, away from him, and brought up her arms, crossing them over her bare torso. Why can't I just sleep? I don't want to wake up now; going back to sleep will be too hard, then. I don't want to sleep. Oh God. Small sobs started, beginning from the well of untouched fear in the darkest place inside her and dripping out of her eyes and mouth and nose. "Scully?" A small moan leaked out and she was trembling. "Oh, I'm.." He stuttered. "I'm so sorry, Scully. How could I..." She turned over suddenly and sat up, rage flickering like the fire from a candle in a hurricane. She flew at him, hitting his torso, yelling nonsensical sounds, plummeting against him, beating him till her fists were two round pellets of numb flesh. He just bowed his head and took it. "Just take your fucking pity and your fucking life and get out of here!" He lifted his head. "My what?" "Why can't you let it go? Why are you trying to start something now that it can't ever be what I wanted?!" "You think..." "Get out!" "No." "Get out now!" He brought up his hands and took her forearms, holding her in place. "Scully, listen to me." She wailed softly and fell against his chest in defeat. "Why can't you just let me be?" "Scully, listen." Like a rag doll, her head flopped up and looked at his face, his darkened shadow of facial hair as a result of not shaving, his eyes like broken leaves on a forest floor. "I don't pity you, Scully. I admire you." "Noooo.." She hummed from her throat. "I admire your strength in this, I think you're so brave. And Scully..." "Don't say it." She pleaded. "I just want you to know that.." "Please." "I really love you." She cracked. The sobs shook her violently and she buried her head in his chest as he held her carefully, shielding her from the force of her pain. "It's too late." "No, it isn't." His mouth caught hers again and she helplessly opened herself to him. He lay her back on the bed and nuzzled her neck. He waited till her tears subsided and then began to nibble at her earlobe, to delicately explore the shell-shaped ring of her ear with his teeth. Her body lay taut. Having trained herself to refrain from enjoying the physicality of existence, she couldn't bring herself back to it. "Turn over, Scully. You're so tense." She turned over to lie on her stomach. He brought his hands up to her shoulders and began to knead at the wired muscles, pulling the knots from their roots and bringing the flow of blood back to her body. She whimpered softly. Ohh, those hands. She breathed in deeply and the pleasure of his hands rubbing her down floated through her body. She felt that old same sting of wetness seeping out of her, sticking to the tops of her thighs. "Roll over, Scully." She felt him ease her over; her muscles were unsure, her movements child-like, clumsy. He moved his hands over her stomach, eroding the friction of her muscles there. He brought one palm to lie atop her belly as his other hand came up to her breasts. He brought his thumb to one of her nipples, and began to move over it. Her hands turned to fists and she turned her head away from him, closing her eyes. "Don't, Scully, I want to see you." "I can't, Mulder." "It's okay, it's just me. Trust me." She turned back to him and opened her eyes. Her body was reeling with the feel of his hands over her. He brought his face down to kiss her stomach and leaving her breasts and stomach, he brought his hands down to the edge of her panties. He looked up at her to receive her silent permission and then pulled them off in one maneuver. Moving slowly, he carefully spread her legs apart, despite her automatic jerk to keep them together. She smiled apologetically and tried to relax. Her breathing was labored and short, panting. He carefully licked the outside folds of her and then moved his tongue in to carefully probe her depths. Her hips jumped and she knocked him in the head with her knee. "Oh, I'm sorry, wait, I..." "Scully, relax. It's okay." She brought her hand to her stomach and lay her palm flat against it. She swallowed as his tongue touched her in places she hadn't felt in months. It was all so new and strange again. Tension rode in on the tides of pleasure that swept through her. She tried not to move her hips but couldn't help it. He brought his hands under her ass and then, realising how she needed the release, took her clitoris in between his tongue and teeth and lightly nipped it. She cried out as her hips thrust upwards against him and spasmed with pleasure. It rolled over her and she felt herself being born and dying and just felt it all again. Mulder let her go slowly and moved up to lie next to her. She breathed in as he stroked her hairline. She looked down at the prominent erection displayed through his boxers. "Mulder, I want you." He looked at her gravely. "I don't think you're ready for this." She smiled up at him. "I think you're ready, Mulder." "I think we should wait." "Oh really." She giggled. She brought herself next to him, languidly laying one leg over him and brought her head to his chest, planting soft, wet kisses on his muscled torso. She opened her mouth and suckled the nubs of his nipples. He groaned and moved to pull back. She grabbed him and pulled him to her, kissing his lips with a bruised and battered passion. "Oh, I.." He stammered through his clenched teeth, "I think this is a bad idea." She reached her hand down and slid it under his boxers, taking his erection in her hand with a familiar skill, once forgotten but not gone. He flung a raspy groan at the ceiling and powerlessly bucked his hips. "I won't tolerate hypocrisy, Mulder." With one hand she pulled his boxers off his hips, revealing his engorged member, glistening and solid. She pulled herself over him nudging his erection with the side of her thigh. She placed herself over the tip of him and started to press herself open. She was nervous, though. Wound up tightly and unable to hold herself steady. Pulling back, he moaned in frustration. "Mulder, I'm having, ahh, a problem. Can you..." He quickly sat up, throwing her over on her back, and with one of his hands holding either of her legs, pulled her to him. Steadying himself with one hand, he spread her open and pushed his way inside her. He was too big for her, expanding the delicate walls of her almost painfully. She squirmed slightly but let him enter her fully. His face contorted as he held her in his grip, not moving, employing his last reserve of willpower to stay with her. "You can move, Mulder." Placing one of his forearms to his side, he brought his other arm under her to bring her closer to him. Then, with measured strokes, he began to slide in and out of her. He brought his other hand under her ass and lay his face down against her stomach, yanking her to him with ever more precarious motions. She heard him grunting against her, trying to wait till she she came, but his body was straining against nature itself. "Mulder, let it go." He lost control of his rhythm and plunged into her fiercely, beating himself into her with ferocity, pounding out his needs inside her. He held her in a vise-like grip unremittingly, clutching at her body to keep him from plummeting over the precipice. Crying out incomprehensibly, he thrust himself into her and with three swift strokes, he came inside her. He moved convulsively as the orgasm seized him and snorted against her skin. He fell on top of her, weakened by the onslaught of pleasure and she cradled his head between her breasts, kissing his soft brown hair. "Feel better?" She asked. He ducked his head slightly and then looked up at her sheepishly. "Sorry about that." "About what? I had a great time." He wrapped his arms around her like an oyster protecting its pearl and a surge of emotion caught her unexpectedly in the ebb of their descent. "You know, Mulder," she murmured, "this is going to change everything." He chuckled slightly and pulled himself up to her so that they were face to face. "Thank God. It's about fucking time." For the first time in a long time, she laughed with ease and poignancy, hearing the sounds of it against her chest, inside her body, from the mysterious cavern of color still clinging to her soul. "What *was* that?" She laughed incredulously. Mulder shrugged. "Act, act in the living present, heart within, and sky overhead." He mused. "Whitman?" "Longfellow." She giggled teasingly. "My but aren't you a looong fellow." "Oh, that was bad, Scully." He chortled. She had a feeling that fear wouldn't be what kept her awake that night. **************** The End. Please send all feedback to wendyt@ucla.edu Authors love feedback.