From: Dani Lane Date: Sun, 28 Nov 1999 19:00:19 GMT Subject: Class Act (1/1) (NC-17) TITLE: Class Act AUTHOR: Frederica Hollywood E-MAIL ADDRESS: c/o publishers at rsdforty2@aol.com FEEDBACK: Is lovely and will be acknowledged. DISTRIBUTION: Please ask. SPOILER WARNING: Tiny second season one. RATING: NC-17 CLASSIFICATION: MSR KEYWORDS: Mulder, Scully DISCLAIMER: These folks belong to Carter and Fox. Now that I'm done with them, they're back in their box. SUMMARY: Scully, knowing that Mulder must go up to the Vineyard to put his family's old home in Chilmark up for sale, suggests that he attend his high school reunion, which is taking place the same weekend, and even offers to go along to keep him company. AUTHOR'S NOTES: Originally appeared in "Red Speedo Diaries #1" from Two Plums and a Gherkin Press Class Act (1/1) By Frederica Hollywood Basement, J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC May 10, 1995 Mulder, you're going to be there anyway," said Scully. "Why not go?" "Because I'm not a masochist," replied her partner. "My high school years were not the best ones of my life, so there's no point in going. I wouldn't have any fun. I'll just see the realtor and sign the contracts and get out." "People don't go to high school reunions to have fun," Scully said patiently, as though explaining to a backward child. "They go to find out how badly their former classmates have messed up their lives. They go for revenge." "I had no idea you had such a mean streak, Scully." "You'd be surprised. How many in your graduating class?" "Ninety-two. Chilmark is a small town." "And out of those ninety-two, how many attended Oxford and went to work for the FBI?" "One." I rest my case. Compared to everyone else, you're at the top of the food chain, Mulder. Go and let them see how well you turned out." "Well ... that might be fun for a moment or two." He looked up and met Scully's gaze directly. "But I haven't got a date." She knew he was daring her, and Scully, still being something of a tomboy at heart, could not resist a dare. "I'll go with you. I'd face aliens for you, Mulder, even take a bullet. What makes you think a class reunion would bother me?" "You never went to Chilmark High. Think Stepford Children, Scully." "Are they the little blond ones with the weird eyes?" "Close. That was Village of the Damned." Scully hopped down from the corner of his desk. "I'll find something special to wear." Mulder perked up. "Black leather and chains?" "In your dreams, partner." Now, in my dreams ... A moment later, though, as she looked across their cramped office at him, an idea came to life. She smiled and shook her head and wondered if she'd ever have the opportunity to carry it through. xxx 2790 Vine Street Chilmark, Massachusetts June 21st, 1995 At ten o'clock on a Friday night in June, after a long ride on the ferry from New Bedford, Mulder and Scully stood outside a white clapboard house looking up at the windows. "We can still go to a motel, Mulder," said Scully after a moment. Samantha had been abducted from this house; Mulder's father had been murdered here. It was perfectly understandable to her if Mulder didn't want to stay in it this weekend. He sighed and squared his shoulders. "No, I've got to lay my ghosts to rest and this might be my last chance to do it. Besides," he added, turning to pull their bags out of the back of the car, "the caretaker went to a lot of trouble to get it ready for us." Minutes later, Scully found herself settling into his parents' bedroom. She unpacked a few things and hung up her dress, before washing her hands and face and going in search of Mulder. She found him sitting on the bed in his old room, staring out the window at the night sky. He hadn't made any effort to unpack. "Mulder?" He blinked and looked at her. "I'm all right, Scully. Just thinking." She sat down beside him and looked around. His old bedroom brought a smile to Scully's lips: the NASA poster on the wall over the bed, the Star Trek models, the collection of Batman and Dr. Strange comic books spilling out of the bookcase, all pointed to the future Mulder. "You want to talk about it?" she asked after a while. "No." He picked up his overnighter and put it on the dresser. "C'mon. I'll give you the tour." He made a point of opening every closet and saying, "No, no skeletons in here" each time. He pointed out the spot in the living room where he had last seen his little sister, but avoided altogether the first floor bathroom where Bill Mulder had died. "It's a nice house," Scully said, "but I understand why your mother doesn't want to live here any more." "I think she's given up hope, Scully, hope that Samantha's ever going to come back." "Mulder, you have enough hope for both of you. And I have hope, too." They were on their way back upstairs when she stopped suddenly and turned to face him. "What?" asked Mulder, who had been watching her bottom appreciatively as she preceded him on the staircase. He hoped the light was dim enough to conceal his embarrassment at being caught behaving like a teenager on hormone overdrive. He couldn't help watching: she had a great ass and he'd been watching it every chance he got for almost three years now. Scully bent down and did something she had never done before: she kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Nothing. Good night, Mulder." He stood there staring after her for a full minute before he was able to move again. His lips seemed to be tingling slightly, a sensation akin to what happened when he put too much chili sauce on a hotdog. At the top of the stairs, he paused and looked toward his parents room, where a sliver of light escaped from beneath the door. A shadow moved from one side of the sliver to other, betraying Scully's passage across the room. Mulder sighed heavily and walked on to his own room on the opposite side of the landing. xxx Chilmark, Massachusetts June 22nd, 1995 The next morning they had breakfast at the Beetlebung Cafe in the center of town and split up. Scully dropped Mulder at the realtor's office; he'd call her on the cell phone when he was finished. She went shopping; there wasn't much else to do in Chilmark on a pre-season Saturday morning. It was a tiny New England village and most of it was centered around Beetlebung Corner, a crossroads named for a nearby grove of black gum trees. Her choices were limited, however, to a general store, a clothing boutique and an art gallery. Scully soon found herself back at the general store after spending half an hour at Chilmark Chocolates, where she watched the confections being made in the back room. The idea that Scully had had the day she'd persuaded Mulder to attend his reunion had been churning around in her mind in the weeks since. Now, this morning, she had to make a decision. She wandered the aisles of the general store, mulling, until at last she found herself standing in front of the prophylactic display. Go for it, Dana, part of her urged. You'll never know unless you try. The teenage clerk at the check-out stand smirked as he rang up her purchase. "Getting ready for the reunion, huh?" he inquired. She ignored him, and stashed the small white paper sack deep in her purse. xxx Mulder was uncharacteristically quiet when she picked him up at half past twelve. She suggested lunch; he nodded agreement. Scully drove them back to the restaurant at the crossroads, where they ordered sandwiches and iced tea. "Did it go all right?" she asked, squeezing the lemon into her drink. "Yeah," Mulder replied. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking about that old house." "And how much you're going to miss it?" He shook his head. "I hate the place. It was the coldest, emptiest house I've ever been in, even with three people living in it. It was a nice place to live up until the time that Samantha was abducted, but afterward ... when my family fell apart and the love went away ... It stopped being nice." She touched his hand, communicating her sympathy silently. "But at the same time," Mulder went on, "my roots are there." "You have mixed emotions about selling it?" "Yeah." "Will it do you any good to keep it? Do you ever want to live in it again?" "God, no!" "Then cut it loose." He nodded again. xxx Chilmark Pond, Martha's Vineyard June 22nd, 1995 That afternoon, he took her rambling around Chilmark, showing her places he had known as a boy. Sometimes, Scully found it difficult to remember they were on a tiny island because of the great sweeps of moorland and the Chilmark Hills with their long views. There were swamps, and valleys, and ponds, and beaches, and everywhere, boulders large and small. There were stone walls that ran for miles, isolated houses that sprang up from the ground like mushrooms, and everywhere the tang of the sea permeated the air. She tried to imagine Mulder running and playing here as a child, but failed because he had never struck her has having anything approaching a normal childhood. On Violet Hill, they stopped to rest for a few minutes and admire the view. Mulder discovered some late-blooming violets, both blue and white, and gathered a few, binding them together with a strand of grass. A little shyly, he gave them to Scully, who carefully tucked them into her windbreaker. Eventually they ended up at Chilmark Pond. "This is where I learned to sail a boat," Mulder announced as they stood together on one of the docks. "I didn't know you could do that," responded Scully, genuinely surprised by this revelation. "If you grow up on an island, you learn to do two things: To swim and to sail." He glanced down at her. "Want to go out on the water?" "Won't you get seasick?" "It's pretty calm today. It usually is on the pond." Thirty minutes later he was rowing her toward one of the pond's quiet backwaters. Scully lounged in the bow, watching him work the oars and occasionally inhaling the faint perfume of the violets in her windbreaker. Presently, when civilization had more or less faded into the distance, he shipped the oars and said, "Listen." She did. She could hear nothing but birdsong, punctuated by the occasional cry of a seagull. "Mulder, it's wonderful." She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on the music of nature. When she opened them, it was to find Mulder gazing at her with an intensity that he usually reserved for X-Files. He averted his eyes abruptly and heeled off his tennis shoes. "Will you be all right alone for a few minutes?" he asked as he doffed his jacket. Scully nodded. "What's up?" He pulled his sweatshirt over his head, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, turning away from her as he peeled them off to reveal a pair of red Speedo trunks. "I'm going to swim a few laps around the boat. There's no current here, and I'm not going out of your sight. Okay?" He was over the side before she could warn him of the dangers of hypothermia from swimming in sixty-degree water, but not before she got a good look at the Speedo. She'd seen Mulder in his boxer shorts before, but boxers concealed rather more than a Speedo did, and what she had seen, and what Mulder had tried to conceal from her by turning away and diving into the chilly water of the pond, was an impressive hard-on. Did I do that to him? The knowledge that she had that kind of effect on her partner under casual circumstances was startling to her. It's only fair, considering what he does to you, Dana. Long ago she had accepted the fact that thinking about Mulder, or sometimes even just looking at him, had an undeniable effect on her. More than once she'd had to excuse herself and go to the ladies' room because of him. Not to mention the dreams ... Too bad I didn't have the foresight to wear a swimsuit, she thought, squirming a little on the hard wooden seat of the rowboat. I could use a cold swim right now, too. She took a deep breath, mastered herself, and realized that she was probably going to have to be the one to make the first move. Mulder could have had her right here in the boat, and she wouldn't have complained very much, but instead he had elected to jump over the side of the boat. What could it mean? He's shy? He's afraid of something? He's your partner, Dana, warned a part of her mind that she thought she had left in Washington. He's also the man I love. Scully smiled softly as she watched Mulder swim swift laps around her. The rowboat rocked gently to and fro with the motion of the water he displaced with his strokes. "Mulder!" she called after five minutes. "Get back in the boat before you catch pneumonia!" I have plans for you, and they preclude your getting sick. xxx Mulder Residence Scully came downstairs at half-past five, confident that she looked her best. She wore a short-sleeved dress of champagne-colored silk crepe shot with gold threads, almost off the shoulder, with more decollete^ than she was accustomed to displaying to her partner. Her only jewelry was a thin gold bangle, and a pair of pearl ear-drops that had belonged to her grandmother. She'd taken extraordinary pains with her makeup, and had even coaxed her loose auburn hair to curl a little. Mulder was waiting in the living room, pacing restlessly back and forth. He looked up as she glided down the stairs and seemed almost startled to see her. "S-Scully?" "Do I look all right?" "Uh ... " "I'll take that as a yes." "Yes! I mean, you clean up real well, Scully." "Thanks. So do you." Mulder was wearing one of his working suits, a charcoal gray one that she particularly liked. His shirt and tie were an identical pale gray silk. The effect was very sophisticated. "Shouldn't we be going?" "I want to ask a favor, first," she said. "Tonight, as far as the two of us are concerned, let's leave the Bureau in DC. You're a civil servant; I'm a doctor. You call me Dana; I'll call you Fox." "Not Fox. Anything but that." "Fox," she said firmly. "I'm not going to spend the evening explaining to everyone why I address you by your last name." He acceded to her wish. Actually, his name didn't sound that unpleasant when Scully said it. xxx Chilmark Community Center Chilmark, Massachusetts 6 PM The reunion was being held at the Chilmark Community Center, where everything from town meetings to concerts was held. Someone had expended time and effort to decorate the place with white crepe paper streamers, silver stars, and glitter. While Mulder was at the registration table, Scully wandered over to where a series of portable screens had been set up. Pictures, obviously enlargements of yearbook photos, were scattered over them, but no names were included. Apparently the idea was to search until you found your picture, or that of someone you knew. Finding Mulder's picture was easy. All Scully had to do was look for the oldest eyes. The fifteen-year-old Fox Mulder looked ill at ease, as though he'd rather be anywhere else than in front of a camera. His features were still soft, unfinished, and overset with a familiar sadness. An adolescent on the cusp of adulthood, with the promise of the beautiful man he would become still veiled in the inexperience of youth. "Who're you looking for?" someone asked. Scully turned her head. A man, probably Mulder's age but starting to thicken, was beside her. "Fox Mulder, but I've found him." "Freaky Fox is here?" The man snorted with laughter; Scully could smell beer on his breath. "And you're with him?" She nodded, disliking the man more every second, and mentally reversed her decision to call Mulder 'Fox' within earshot of anyone in the room. "How much is he paying you?" "I beg your pardon?" "Don't bother," interjected a new voice. "Rick's got all the sensitivity of a water buffalo, and that's when he's sober." The man lurched away, leaving Scully alone with a pretty woman wearing a tuxedo complete with boutonniere. Rather incongruously, her long blond hair had been done up in a soft knot, a la Gibson Girl. The newcomer held out a hand. "I'm Betsy Hathaway. Are you a friend of Mulder's?" "Yes, I am. I'm Dana Scully." "Betsy!" This time it was Mulder. He put his arms around Betsy Hathaway and kissed her cheek. "You haven't gone butch on me, have you?" "This?" She gestured at the tuxedo. "I'm just wearing it to annoy our classmates. Laura Ashley is more my style." She glanced at Scully and added, "I'm the class of '75's token lesbian. So, Mulder, is it true you're a G-man?" "It's true, but I'm not advertising it tonight." "Oooh! Show me your gun and your badge." "Later, if you behave yourself." "I promise not to make a pass at your friend." "Actually, Scully's a little more than a friend." Betsy's eyes widened. "Your wife? Mulder, you promised to invite me--" "She's--" Scully squeezed Mulder's arm in warning. He glanced at her, remembered her request, and finished, "my best friend." "Lucky woman. If I wasn't bent, I'd be Fox-hunting myself. You turned out real well, Mulder. Too bad the same can't be said of the majority of our classmates." "Where's Fleur? Are you still together?" "Yes, we are, and she's on duty this weekend. Fleur's a doctor," Betsy added for Scully's benefit. "So am I." Betsy looked from Scully to Mulder speculatively. "I'll bet that comes in handy." "More than you can imagine," Mulder said fervently. "Mulder, were you accident prone as a teenager, too?" asked Scully. "I used to carry a box of Band-Aids with his name on it," Betsy assured her. "Look, there're some people here I have to go antagonize. I'll find you two later, okay?" "I hope so," said Scully. "There are some questions I want to ask." "No you don't," said Mulder, leading her away to the bar. xxx They walked into the dining room half an hour later, having emerged from the bar relatively unscathed. The few of Mulder's former classmates who had approached them had been low-key, polite, and curious. "Oh, hell, place cards," muttered Mulder after glancing at one of the tables that filled the room. "C'mon, over that way." "What makes you think we're seated over there, Mulder?" "Because that's where the kitchen is." But no place cards bearing the names of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully could be found. Puzzled Mulder looked around the room and spotted Betsy waving at him from a table in front of the dais, where the class officers were to be seated. They made their way over to her. "We're sitting here," she announced. Scully glanced at the table; sure enough, there were place cards bearing all three of their names." "You didn't ..." said Mulder, with a ghost of a smile. "I most certainly did," Betsy responded. "They stuck us in the corner by the kitchen for prom. I am not about to let history repeat itself." "I told you," Scully said to her partner as he seated her. "Revenge." "What?" asked Betsy. "I talked Mulder into coming by convincing him that people came to these things for revenge, not to have a good time." "You are so right!" the other woman agreed. She was sitting on Mulder's left. "Why do you call him Mulder, if you're 'best friends'?" "Because he won't let me call him Fox," said Scully. She looked at her partner and winked. Another couple approached their table. Scully recognized the man as the one she had encountered in the lobby. The woman with him reminded her of a Barbie doll: too toned and tan to be real, although her wheaten hair, cropped short and slicked back behind her ears, seemed genuine enough. "Homecoming queen," Betsy mouthed to Scully. "And the captain of the basketball team." Rick, whose last name Scully never learned, appeared to have sobered up somewhat and forgotten their previous encounter. His wife was introduced as Donna. Both of them seemed surprised to find Mulder, Scully, and Betsy Hathaway at their table. "Bruce and Tina were supposed to be with us," Donna explained. "Well," said Betsy, "someone must have confused the place cards. You remember Fox Mulder, don't you? And this is his friend, Dana Scully." An odd look passed over Rick's face. "Someone said you were here. So, you returned to the scene of the crime, huh, Foxy?" "That's one way of looking at it," Mulder replied. "I assume the damage wasn't permanent." "No, got two kids, no thanks to you." Rick frowned as he seated his wife. "I can't wait to hear about this," Scully whispered to Mulder. "So, Fox," said Donna. "What are you doing now? The last I heard, you were studying in England." "I'm a civil servant," he replied. "With a suit like that?" "I'm also frugal." "What about you ... Dana, wasn't it?" She nodded. "I'm a doctor." Donna's face began to exhibit symptoms Scully knew all too well. "Maybe we could talk later." "My specialty is forensic pathology. I'm afraid I couldn't give you any advice." "What's forensic pathology?" "It means," said Betsy, obviously enjoying herself, "Dana's not interested in you unless you're dead of unknown causes. She's a medical detective." Donna made a moue of disgust. "Then I'm not surprised Freaky's dating you. Why on earth would anyone as attractive as you want to cut up dead people?" "Because I want to know why they died." Thereafter, Donna treated Scully to a cold shoulder, while she continued to ply Mulder for information about his work, which he declined to give. "It's something to do with national security, isn't it?" she guessed at one point. "It might be," Mulder replied. "But if I admit to it, I'd have to shoot you." Donna tittered. "Fox, do you carry ... a gun?" Mulder raised one eyebrow as he drank some root beer. "And what was it you studied at Cambridge?" Donna persisted. "Oxford." Mulder smiled a tight little smile. "Psychology, with emphasis on aberrant behavior." "I'll bet you got along great with those tight-ass Brits," muttered Rick. "Reasonably well." There was a brief lapse in conversation, during which the waitresses cleared the table and served coffee and dessert. Eventually, though, Donna resumed her dogged interrogation, turning next to Scully and asking, "How did you and Foxy meet, Dana?" "At work," answered Scully after a moment's consideration. "Oh, you work for the government, too?" The band struck up at that instant, playing a four-piece arrangement of a forgettable disco song. Scully, grateful for the interruption, grabbed Mulder's wrist. "I love this song! C'mon, Mulder. Dance with me!" He allowed himself to be dragged out on the dance floor. "I hate to dance," he informed her. "My feet are too big. I'll step all over you." "Then we'll fake it until we're out of their line of sight." They managed to slip out onto the terrace. "Mulder, I have a brand-new respect for you," Scully said, linking her arm in his. "What do you mean?" "You survived high school with those people without turning into a raving lunatic." "I told you they were the worst years of my life." "I thought you were exaggerating. I'll never doubt your word again." "Never?" he teased. "Well, hardly ever." "I'll be satisfied with that." "Mulder, I'm sorry I insisted you come to this fiasco. I had no idea what it would be like." "It's okay, Scully. I'm starting to enjoy myself." "You are?" she said, incredulous. "Yeah. It was kind of neat seeing you squirm when Donna was grilling you." She punched him in the arm, then leaned against him. Mulder put his arm around her, only to have to let her go a second later when she pulled away. "Mulder, you're wearing your gun." "Once a Fed, always a Fed. Don't you have yours?" With a little sigh, Scully admitted, "It's in my purse." "We'd better go back." He smoothed a strand of hair away from her face. "I'll buy you a thigh holster for Christmas. Black leather. Real sexy." "Thanks, Mulder. It'll go great with the black leather lingerie." "Don't tease me, Scully." She laughed and led the way back inside as the band segued into a slower tune. "Oh, this is a good song," she said, stopping to listen. "You really like it?" Scully nodded, swaying slightly in time to the music. Mulder put his hand in the small of her back. "Then let's dance." "You just said you hated to dance." "I do. But I'll dance with you, if you want." She turned and smiled up at him as she stepped into his arms. "I think you'll find whether or not you like to dance is directly related to whom you're dancing with," she informed him as they sidled out onto the floor again. "I think you may be right." Mulder curled their arms inward, bringing Scully's hand to rest against his chest, between them. "But I don't dip." It was nice, dancing with Mulder. He didn't step on her feet, he moved well to the music, and he didn't say a word when she rested her cheek against his chest. In fact, the warm hand on her back not only guided her around the dance floor, it encouraged her to come closer to him. She closed her eyes, and when the music ended, just before they stepped away from one another, she was sure she felt him kiss the top of her head. Scully looked up quickly, but his face betrayed nothing but the pleasure he had had dancing with her. "Thanks, Mulder." "You're welcome. Do you mind if I dance with Betsy?" "Not at all. I might even dance with her myself." He chuckled as he led her back to their table. x Later, after Mulder had wandered off to talk to some people, Scully went out on the terrace again, this time in the company of Betsy Hathaway, who she had learned was an illustrator of children's books. Settling into a couple of the ubiquitous resin chairs dotting the area, Scully asked for the names of some of the titles she had illustrated, intending to buy a couple for her godson. Then, boldly, before she lost her courage, she said, "Tell me about Mulder. All I know about his childhood is that Samantha vanished." Betsy nodded. "We met when my family moved next door to his. He was eight and I was ten, and a tomboy. He was a plump little kid, a little shy, and a smart-ass, but he was always nice to me, and he knew all sorts of really interesting stuff." "He still does," remarked Scully. "Yeah, and that photographic memory of his really pissed off a lot of people. "Was he treated differently after his sister was abducted?" "Most people avoided him, especially after the police questioned him a second time." Scully hadn't known about that. Betsy continued, "Afterward, I was the only kid in town willing to be seen with him." "What was he like as a boy?" "Sarcastic, dark, dry humor, anti-authoritarian, difficult, over-protective, independent, brilliant--Stop me if you've heard this before." "Sounds familiar." "We ended up as lab partners in all our science classes." She glanced sideways at Scully, as if appraising her. "I was Mulder's first girl friend. By default, I guess. No one else would go near him because of that business with his sister." She smiled, remembering. "It was a strange relationship, more an experiment, for both of us." "An experiment?" "He'd just hit puberty and I wasn't sure about my sexual orientation, although he didn't know that 'til later. I taught him how to kiss." Betsy laughed gently at her memories. "He was a quick study, and a great kisser. I'll bet he's even better now. And if he's half as good a lover as he is a kisser, you're a very lucky woman, Dana." Scully looked down at her hands, which had knotted themselves together in her lap. "Sorry," said Betsy after a minute. "Sometimes I don't think before I speak. I didn't mean to offend you." "You haven't," Scully assured her. "Wait a minute ..." She leaned forward in her chair, studying Scully's face. "You haven't got a clue what I'm talking about, do you?" "I--" "Why are you pretending to be lovers if --" "It's a little complicated," interrupted Scully. "What's complicated? You're obviously attracted to one another." Scully decided to break her own rule about the weekend. "Betsy, we're partners as well as best friends." "You're a fibbie, too?" Scully nodded. "Technically, Mulder is my supervisor. He's in charge of a division of the FBI called the X-Files. It's just the two of us. I was assigned to assist him almost three years ago." "What do you do?" "We investigate weird cases: mutants, crop circles, UFOs, things like that. It gets pretty intense sometimes." "And he's never tried anything with you?" "No. He's not like that." "Oh, wow." Now Betsy flopped back in her chair. "Dana, do you know how he looks at you?" "Probably the same way I look at him." Recalling what had happened on the pond that afternoon, she smiled faintly. "And you haven't done anything about it?" She didn't really want to discuss it, even with someone as sympathetic as Mulder's old friend, so she took the moral high ground. "Regulations prohibit--" "Screw regulations! I hate giving advice, Dana, but I'm giving you some: Grab that man. He's worth ten of anyone else on the planet." Scully's mouth quirked. "Good choice of words when referring to Mulder." "Did I hear my name?" They looked up to see Mulder approaching. Scully glanced at Betsy, who gave a slight nod. "I was just telling Dana about the time you decided to give flying lessons to the fetal pig we were supposed to be dissecting in Biology II." "Thanks, Betsy. I'm sure she really needed to know about that." "Relax. I haven't told her any of the good stuff." "So what did Mulder do?" asked Scully, quirking an eyebrow at her partner. "He tied a string to one of its legs and lowered it out the window." Betsy chuckled. "It gave the Spanish class in the room below ours quite a fright." "Why am I not surprised?" Scully grinned up at Mulder, who smiled back and held out a hand to her. "Let's go back inside. I want to dance with you again. And you, too, Betsy." He ended up dancing with both women, at the same time, to "I Will Survive." "I thought you hated disco," Mulder," Betsy said when the music ended. "I do, but that song seems so appropriate for Scully and me. Right, Scully?" "Right, Mulder." She smiled up at her partner. xxx Root beer and dancing to disco music took their toll. Mulder walked into the men's room, saw what was going on, and walked out again. "That was fast," remarked Scully, who had been waiting for him. "Rick and at least three of my former classmates are in there sucking up coke like it was oxygen." He looked back over his shoulder at the men's room door. "I can't let this slide, Scully. They're breaking the law I promised to uphold." Something in his face prompted her to ask, "Does this have something to do with that remark he made about returning to the scene of the crime?" Mulder nodded. "Twenty years ago I walked into a school restroom and found Rick and a buddy of his smoking pot. I asked them to stop. They wouldn't, so I found a teacher and told him, which resulted in Rick getting suspended and missing the final game of our senior year." She couldn't imagine her partner as a snitch; there had to be more to the story. She asked the question with her eyes. Mulder hunched a shoulder, apparently still more than a little ashamed of what he had done. "I wouldn't have said anything, except Rick hurt a friend of mine the day before, and I was looking for a way to even the score for her. The next day, after school, he jumped me. I was younger, smaller, less experienced, so I lost the fight, but not before I kicked him in the balls. And tonight it's happening again, except now Rick's sniffing coke, and telling the teacher isn't going to do much good." "Let me get my purse." "What for?" "Mulder, I'm not letting you go in there without backup, especially with a coked-up ex-jock who already has a grudge against you." He smiled. "Were you a Girl Scout, Scully?" "Just until I found out Girl Scouts didn't get to do any of the cool stuff the Boy Scouts got to do." She added, as an afterthought, "And I'll get Betsy to call the locals." Scully returned moments later. Discreetly, she retrieved her pistol and her identification from her purse before dropping it on the floor to one side of the men's room door. "You go first," she told him. "It is the men's room, after all." Mulder shouldered the door open and stepped inside. Startled, four heads swiveled towards him. He dangled his ID between the fingers of his left hand, which he used to steady his right hand, which gripped the Smith and Wesson 1056. "Freeze! FBI!" "You're joking, right?" said Rick. To reassure his companions, he said, "It's okay. I know the guy. He's an asshole, likes to kid around." He took a step toward Mulder. "Get outta here, Freaky." "You're under arrest for possession of a controlled substance." He sensed Scully stepping around from behind him, weapon at the ready, "Turn around and and put your hands on the wall. The local police will be here shortly to take you into custody." "Rick, he's not kidding around," one of the other men said. "Sure he is!" "Turn around and put your hands on the wall!" snapped Scully. "Do it! Now!" She gestured with the pistol. One by one, all the men except Rick turned to the wall. "Freaky--" "Don't call me that, Rick. I didn't like it when I was a kid, and I like it even less now." "Okay, okay! Fox. You don't really want to bust your old school buddies for doing a couple of lines of coke, do you? There's plenty here for everyone, even the little lady." "We were never buddies, Rick. Now just do what I told you." "Or else what?" The other man's features twisted into a sneer. "You'll shoot me?" "No, I won't shoot you," said Mulder wearily. "But the 'little lady' might. She shot me once, so shooting you won't be a big deal for her." Rick glanced uneasily from Mulder's face to Scully's. Not liking what he saw in her cool, blue gaze, he finally took a position against the wall with the others. "Another kick in the balls!" he muttered. xxx "You happy now, Freaky?" asked Rick ten minutes later, as he was being led away by sheriff's deputies. "Is this revenge for my beating the crap out of you our senior year? Why in hell didn't you say the two of you were FBI?" "You never asked." Mulder glanced at Scully, half-smiled, and then turned back toward the men's room. "Excuse me. Got to take care of some business." "You know, Mulder," said Scully when he reappeared again a few minutes later looking more at ease, "this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I told you people came to high school reunions for revenge." "I know." He glanced down at her, a small smile playing on his mouth. "But it's sweet, all the same." "I had no idea you had such a mean streak, Mulder." "You'd be surprised. Hey, Scully, when's your reunion? xxx Mulder Residence 11:21 PM The reunion broke up not long afterward. The two newly revealed FBI agents were the cynosure of all eyes, some approving, some not. Betsy Hathaway, one of the approving, extracted a promise from them to come up to Edgartown in the morning before returning to the mainland, for brunch with her and her companion. Back at the house, Scully once again stopped on the stairs, this time on the fifth riser, and once again, Mulder, paying more attention to the firm little bottom going up the stairs before him than anything else he was doing, bumped into her. A smiling Scully turned to look at him. "I had a great time tonight, Mulder." And then she leaned forward and touched her mouth to his for the second time in as many days. This time, however, she lingered longer than a casual good-night kiss required. Without thinking about what he was doing or the possible consequences, Mulder took her into his arms and kissed her back. Thoroughly. A moment later he tore himself away from her, horrified by what he had just allowed himself to do. "I'm sorry, Scully," he said, wishing it were possible for the earth to swallow him whole. "I shouldn't have done that. It was way out of line." "I liked it. Didn't you?" "I liked it a lot, but you're my partner. I shouldn't be kissing you." She curled a hand around the back of his head. "Even if I want you to?" He pushed her away gently, her words ringing in his ears like church bells as he sagged against the wall and slid down to sit on the step. He covered his face with his hand. Scully sat down beside him. "I love you." Minutes ticked by, and when he did not speak or move, Scully took his free hand between her two and squeezed it slightly. "Let me in. Please, Mulder." He shook his head. "I can't. It's too dangerous. For both of us." "That's not good enough, Mulder. Anything can happen to anyone at any time. Try again." Mulder dropped his hand to look at her. "Scully ... I've lost everyone I've ever loved, one way or another. If something happened to you again because of me ..." "What makes you think something's going to happen?" "The nature of our work. My beliefs. Last fall, when you were taken ... It could happen again so easily." She shrugged. "It wasn't very pleasant, but I'm not going to live my life in fear that it might happen again. And after what happened to you in New Mexico, I'm surprised you don't feel the same way." "We're just not going to get involved." "But we are involved. We're partners." "Maybe you should request a transfer." "Mulder, don't ever suggest that again." He studied her face in silence, and discovered the truth in it. It terrified him. "I'm not going to make stupid promises that nothing will happen to either of us," Scully went on. "Things will happen. That's life. But those things are only possibilities, not probabilities." "No." "Mulder, you can't isolate yourself from all human interaction just to try to avoid something that might never happen. It's emotional suicide. You have to take a risk sometime and let someone inside. And I want to be the one. I need to be the one." "Scully, I don't want to talk about this any more. It'll just make it harder for both of us." "It's already hard. Do you love me?" Sighing, he said, "Yes, I love you." She smiled. "This is a good thing." "No, it's a bad thing. If OPC were to discover we have a personal relationship, we'll be split up, the X-Files will be shut down, and your career will be damaged." "I've put my career on the line for you before, Mulder. I'm not afraid to do it again." Mulder put his hand over his face once more. "Jesus, Scully." He felt her fingers at his throat, loosening the knot of his tie and unbuttoning his collar. "What are you doing?" "Making you a little more comfortable." Finished, she leaned her head against his arm. "I fantasize about you, you know." "You do?" He seemed surprised. "Mm-hmm. About what's under your suits. What it might be like to undress you, touch you, go to bed with you ... " She looked up at him. "When you jumped out of the boat this afternoon, you left behind an extremely frustrated woman, Mulder. One who liked what she saw when you undressed." "I fantasize about you, too," he said softy. "Good." Carefully, she put her arm through his. "Wouldn't you like to explore those fantasies, make them real?" The psychologist in Mulder said, "Fantasies by their very nature are supposed to be unreal." Scully sighed. "I've tried romance, I've tried logic. Now I'm going to try appealing to your basest instincts, Mulder: Do you have any desire at all to get naked with me in a bed somewhere and make me scream your name?" "Is that all I have to do?" he asked, a flash of humor sparkling in his eyes. "Just make you scream my name?" Frustrated, she smacked his thigh with an open hand. "Dammit, Mulder, don't try to distance yourself from this discussion, because I'll drag you back from wherever you try to hide." "So you think I'm sexy," he said after a moment. "Among other things." "Well, as I've said before, I think it's remotely possible that someone might think you're hot because--" "Yes?" She wrapped her arms around his waist beneath his coat. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I do. Always have." "Take a chance: Put your arms around me, Fox." "Please don't call me that." "Get used to it. I have to call you something, and I hate nicknames. I'll only use it when we're together like this. All right?" He nodded, thinking again that his name didn't sound quite so ridiculous when she spoke it aloud. "You called me Mulder all evening ... You said you were going to call me by my first name." "That was before I met some good old Rick and Donna. They made a perfectly nice name sound like a bad word. When I call you 'Fox,' I want you to feel good." She pressed a little closer to him. "Now, would you please take me in your arms and kiss me?" For once, Mulder did as he was told, and found himself locked mouth to mouth with a Scully he had only imagined existed. For the next few minutes they did nothing more than hold one another and exchange soft, wet kisses. "So far, so good," Scully whispered. She pressed her face against his throat for a moment. "More ... " Her lips were soft and pliant beneath his, and when they parted, without prompting on his part, Mulder felt an odd lurch in his chest, and thought, This is ... right. He inserted his tongue into the warm, dark recesses of her mouth and began to explore the mystery that was Dana Scully. She tasted sweet; he hoped he didn't have root beer-breath. He felt her tongue glide over his, entwine with it, and move on to prowl restlessly over his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Raising a hand to her shoulder, he pushed aside the neck of her dress. Her skin, warm and smooth and smelling faintly of citrus, felt like silk under his palm. He took his mouth from hers and kissed his way down her neck to the point of her shoulder and back again. Mulder's curious hands lingered briefly over her bosom before moving on. He smoothed her hip, her thigh, then moved round to her back and arms. Going back to her breasts, he squeezed them gently, feeling their warmth through the thin silk of her dress. Her nipples, barely perceptible moments before, stiffened instantly beneath his touch. With a sigh of utter contentment, he rested his head against her shoulder. "Take a chance ... " Scully murmured again, her lips brushing against his temple. She took his mouth again, nipping lightly at that sensual lower lip just as she had imagined doing since he came out of his coma in Dead Horse. And her hands were no more idle than his. They wandered over his back and chest, pausing to undo a button of his shirt so she could slide one hand inside to rest against the smooth skin of his belly. After a moment, she withdrew her hand and let it rest on his thigh for an instant before drawing it lightly over his groin. For Mulder, it was like a jolt of electricity. Feeling himself starting to harden, he shifted, silently encouraging her to continue to touch him. By way of example, he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her dress, where only the fine mesh of her hose came between her skin and his, and ran them up the inside of her thigh. "I want to make love to you," Mulder whispered. "That sounds like an awful big risk," replied Scully. "Are you sure you want to take it?" He nodded. "I've loved you for a long time, Dana. Since before the night you brought me root beer and a liverwurst sandwich. But you know that, don't you?" She remembered that night with crystal clarity, especially his half-serious, half-joking comment about, 'If there's an iced tea in that bag, it could be love,' and the fleeting look of disappointment she thought she'd seen in his eyes when the drink had proved to be root beer. "You really meant it about the iced tea?" "Yeah," he admitted, feeling a little self-conscious. "I'd made this deal with myself. If you brought me iced tea, I'd find a way to start coming on to you. Anything else, and I'd have to behave." "Oh, Mulder, why did you stack the deck against yourself?" "Because I was afraid of what might happen. It's always been easier to keep everyone at arm's length. No one got hurt." Mulder ran his fingers through her hair and set the pearl drop in her ear swinging. "Scully, there's something I want you to know." "What's that?" He swallowed, hard. "You may be getting into something with me you might not like." "What do you mean?" "Despite the evidence of my video and magazine collections, I'm not a fan of those 'let's hop in the sack and boff our brains out for one night' relationships." He grinned suddenly, enthusiastically. "Not that I don't want to boff my brains out with you. But I want more than a one-night stand with you." "Mulder, that's perilously close to a proposal of marriage." "It's not. Not yet. But you never really know." She nodded. "It's what I would like, too: a lasting relationship with someone who loves and trusts me as much as I love and trust him. Maybe even marriage." She paused before adding, "That's perilously close to an acceptance." "Well, I definitely love and trust you, Scully. Otherwise I wouldn't be exposing myself to you like this." She reached up to caress his jaw with the back of her hand. "Take me to bed, Fox." He let go of her and they stood up. Scully kicked off her heels and took his hand, leading the way upstairs. Out of habit, he hung back a little, just to watch her climb the stairs. "I think," she said, without turning her head, "that sometimes you should go first, so I can watch your ass." "Scully, you always watch my ass." Freeing her hand, she reached back and patted his rump, giving it a little squeeze. "I meant in the carnal sense." But on the threshold of her room, Mulder suddenly balked. She quelled a minor surge of panic. "What is it?" "Not in that bed. Not in my parents' room." "All right. Just let me get something." She slipped in to retrieve the box of condoms. He looked at it, then at her. "I bought them this morning," Scully told him, "while you were with the real estate people. Just in case." Mulder smiled and took the box from her. "Scully, you really were a Boy Scout!" They walked back down the hall to his old bedroom, where he switched on the bedside lamp and dropped the prophylactics on the nightstand. After turning down the bedclothes, Mulder straightened and looked at the woman waiting at the foot of the narrow bed. She smiled back at him, confident, and when he opened his arms to her, she came into his embrace without hesitation. "You can still change your mind, Scully," he said, the words muffled a little by her hair. "Why would I want to do that?" He shrugged. "You can do better than Spooky Mulder." "Maybe," she allowed. "But it's Spooky Mulder I love." He kissed her until she was breathless. For what seemed an eternity, Scully did nothing but lean against him, rejoicing in his touch as Mulder caressed her. Only when his long, sensitive fingers touched the back of her neck did she stiffen. Though she might deny it aloud, the tiny scar there still had the power to frighten her if she let herself think about it, and she was certain its presence disturbed Mulder, too, even though he, like her, would refuse to admit it. "Turn around," he whispered, letting go of her. Slowly, she turned her back on him. He parted her hair and rubbed the mark lightly with one fingertip before pressing his lips to it. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her against himself. Scully reached up and back, pulling his head down so she could kiss him, kiss away the guilt she knew he still felt over her abduction. After a moment, she turned in his arms and held him tightly. She reached behind his back, beneath his coat, pulling the tails of his shirt free and sliding her hands beneath the cool silk in order to run them up and down the broad, warm expanse of his back. "Let's take off your coat," she suggested. "I was thinking the same thing about your dress." "Great minds ... " Mulder's fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress, opened it, and gently eased the dress off her shoulders while Scully pulled his suit coat off his shoulders. As he shrugged it off and tossed it aside together with his tie, she stepped out of her dress and, in bra and half-slip, attacked the buttons of his shirt with nimble fingers. He stood quietly, half-smiling, watching her work each one free until his shirt gaped open. Pushing it out of her way, she leaned in to kiss his chest, the sensation of her tongue and lips teasing his nipples giving him exquisite pleasure. Murmuring endearments, he put his arms around her and held her head gently against his chest, letting her nuzzle and nip at him until the tiny knots of flesh were as taut and hard and sensitive as her own must be. He felt her pull at his shirt again, and sensed her puzzlement as she became aware of an impediment to removing it completely. "Cufflinks," whispered Mulder, pulling her close. "Deal with them," she whispered back. He grabbed her wrist as she took a step away. "Where are you going?" In his own ears, the words sounded panicky. He might as well have shouted, "Don't leave me!" "To sit down." She skimmed her hands over his chest, barely touching him, like a pair of gulls gliding over the waves of the sound. "It's okay. I just want to get out of these pantyhose." "Let me do it. Let me take them off for you." She laughed and said, "All right." Stepping backward and a little to one side, Mulder sat down on the edge of the bed, and drew her between his knees. "You have such a tiny waist," he told her, circling it with his hands. He slid his hands down her thighs to the hem of her slip, then ran them back up to her waist again, this time beneath the slip. She felt him hook his thumbs in the elastic waistband of the panty hose and begin to draw them downward. Again, their eyes met and locked. Scully smiled. Carefully Mulder rolled the hose down to her ankles and Scully, leaning on him, stepped free. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her close as he buried his face against her. Scully stroked his hair for a moment, then unfastened her bra and dropped it on the floor. "Fox?" He looked up, wondering. A twitch and a wriggle, and she had rid herself of the half-slip as well. Naked, she stood before him like a statue, waiting. "Oh, Scully ... " Licking suddenly dry lips, Mulder reached for her, pulling her down on top of himself and rolling them both to a more secure place on his old bed. Above Scully now, and holding her tightly in one arm, he gave his free hand license to roam over her body. He captured her mouth with his, then released it to fasten his lips first to one nipple and then the other, sucking the tender flesh like a greedy infant while she cradled his head in her arms. Mulder's hand drifted lower to stroke the coppery curls at the juncture of her thighs, then slid between to cup her sex in his palm. Gently, he probed her depths with an exploratory finger, eliciting an encouraging moan from his partner. Shifting his position, he trailed his tongue the length of her torso until ... "Let me in, Scully," he murmured against the soft, silky hair. Her thighs parted and he crouched between them to bury his face in her. Scully squirmed against the sheets, uttering wordless little cries interspersed with his name as he pleasured her. Her voice, her words, enhanced his own pleasure in the act. He reached around her hips with his long arms to knead her breasts. Between mouth and hands, he led her gently to the precipice, but no further. "No!" she cried, desperate to go on, to finish what he had started. "Ssssshhh," he whispered. He kissed the soft skin of her inner thighs. "We're not through yet, love. Be still. Be patient." When he made her come for the first time, Mulder intended to be deep inside her, experiencing it with her. He crept upward, meaning to bury himself in her body, until he realized he was still wearing most of his clothes. Mulder swore and sat up, trying to take off his shirt. "What is it?" Scully asked when he seemed to be having trouble. "The damn cufflinks!" "Forget them." She slid off the bed and reached for his belt buckle. "Stand up!" Scully unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped and yanked first his trousers, and then his boxers, down to his knees. Pushing Mulder back on the bed as she tried to pull his clothes all the way off, she allowed herself to be distracted by his erection. She curled her fingers gently around it in the lightest of caresses. "Oh, Mulder," she said, echoing his words to her earlier. But there was yet another obstacle to be dealt with: His shoes. She knelt and glanced up at him, mischief in her blue eyes. "You were right, Fox, you do have big feet. And I guess what they say about men who have big feet is true ... " Raising himself on his elbows, Mulder began to say, "My feet aren't that big--" then stopped, realizing the meaning behind her words. She removed his oxfords, peeling his socks off at the same time. Pausing only long enough to press a kiss to his ankle, she finally finished stripping him of everything but the grey silk shirt. Scully dropped his clothes on the floor on top of hers and sat back on her heels to look at the fully revealed Mulder with a frank, appraising gaze. He gazed back, a bit apprehensively. "What?" he asked after a moment. She pushed the shirt off his right shoulder and with the tips of her fingers, touched the puckered pink scar tissue where she had shot him. "I regret this." "But Scully, it's a lot more subtle than a tattoo of a heart with your name in it." "You're the only man in the world who would see it that way." "Well, yeah, I suppose I do have a unique way looking at things." "'Unique' doesn't even begin to cover it." With a grin, she pushed his knees further apart and inched forward. Grasping his rose-dark cock firmly in one hand, Scully first kissed it, then took it into her mouth. Mulder groaned and fell back on the bed, straining to control himself as she worked at him with tongue and lips. She rolled his balls between her fingers, squeezing them gently within their velvety sac. Her now-tousled hair tickled his thighs and belly. He groaned again. It was all too much, and if he didn't do something soon ... Raising himself on his elbows, Mulder touched the crown of her head with his hand; she looked up, with him still in her mouth. It was an incredible sight, one that he would never forget. "Dana ... please, I need to be inside you ... please..." With a final stroke of her tongue on the sensitive underside of his shaft, she released him and moved up to lie beside him. "I just wanted you to know how good you make me feel." "Believe me, I know." Mulder pulled her close, half beneath him, holding her there with one arm. He caressed her again, then, with the greatest care, once more probed her with his fingers. She gripped him like a warm, wet glove as he stroked her. "Next time," he panted, moving into position on top of her, "we'll take our time, I promise, sweetheart, but right now, I just need you so much." "It's okay." She ruffled his hair and smiled up at him. "I understand. I need you, too." Scully reached between them, to guide him toward her. "Wait! The condoms!" Mulder snatched a prophylactic from the box, tore it open with his teeth, and began to roll it on. He was in too much of a hurry, though: the thin latex ripped. Uttering a strangled cry, he threw it aside and reached for another, only to encounter Scully's hands. Deftly, she coaxed the sheath into place as he knelt over her. He caught her up in his arms. "God, I love you, Dana." "I love you, too." She lay back, pulling him with her, sliding her palms up his back beneath his shirt. Drawing her knees up, she whispered. "Now come in where you belong, Fox." He took her then, gently introducing himself into her body a little at a time. Pausing, he looked down at her face, cradled between his hands. Scully's eyes were open, looking directly into his; her mouth curved upward. He pushed an errant strand of titian hair behind her ear. "How're we doing, sweetheart?" "You feel so good," she whispered. "But be careful. You're going to have to live up to tonight every time we make love in the future." He grinned down at her. "So are you." She grinned back and shifted her hips slightly, gripping him with internal muscles in a way that sent a shudder of pleasure rippling through his whole body. He began to move, stroking in and out of her body in a long, slow rhythm that picked up speed as moments passed. She locked her ankles together in the small of his back, making him her captive. He felt her fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him on. He thrust harder. She drew his head down to kiss him, plunging her tongue deep into his mouth. Pulling away a moment later, he watched her eyes go dark with passion; her breaths were short and hard, and perspiration beaded her brow, as though she'd run a marathon. Again and again, she murmured his name and that she loved him. She ran her hands over his torso beneath the silk shirt, feeling the muscles in his back bunch and relax as he moved over her, until at last she arched up off the bed against him, calling out for him as he took her over the edge and beyond. She fell back, limp, while Mulder, sweating with exertion, gasping raggedly, continued to push into her until he, too, tumbled into the blissful void of orgasm, her name a slurred litany on his lips. Slowly, reluctantly, Scully came back to earth and opened her eyes. She turned her head slightly until her cheek rested against Mulder's temple. His face, moist with perspiration, pressed against her neck just beneath her jaw, and she could feel his breath, quick and warm and soft, on her throat, while the sweet weight of his body pressed her to his bed. She held him close, waiting for him to come back to her, and when she felt him stir, she whispered, "Fox?" "Dana ... " Her name emerged as little more than a sigh, but it conveyed a wealth of emotion. His mouth worked against her throat in a series of ghostly kisses as his right hand came up to cover her breast. He raised himself on his other elbow and they regarded one another with a certain shyness, as first-time lovers often do. Then Mulder, suddenly aware that Scully was bearing almost his full weight on her small frame, eased himself over to one side, and the one became two again. The night air was cool on his skin and probably on hers as well, although her face was flushed. Tenderly, he smoothed several damp tendrils of hair away from her face. "Are you okay, Dana?" "I'm fine." She smiled at him, the special smile she seemed to save for him alone. It was like seeing the sun rise for the first time. "And so are you." Putting out the light and pulling the covers up over them both, he lay with his back pressed against the wall to give her room to be comfortable in his narrow bed. She nestled against him, front to front, resting her forehead against his chin, her hands against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her again and insinuated his knee between hers so their legs were entwined. "This is the best part," she whispered, her breath tickling his throat. "Hmmm?" "Being totally exhausted from making love and going to sleep in the arms of the one person you love above all others: Can you think of anything nicer?" Her words sent a ghostly echo of what he had just experienced with her surging through him. "Dana ... " he murmured again, running his hand down her back, from the crown of her head to the tops of her thighs. Fox?" "Mmmm?" She tugged the collar of his shirt. "Aren't you still a little overdressed?" "I guess I am." Mulder sat up and removed his cufflinks, then shucked the now rumpled and stained shirt. He tossed it across the room and the cufflinks after it, and made a point of sliding as much of his body against as much of hers as he could as he lay down again. "Better?" "Much." He looked at her lying there in his arms, in his bed, and asked, "Would you hold me?" Scully gave him another of those perfect smiles and patted her bosom in invitation; he pillowed his head there, tucking his head under her chin. Her arms enfolded him as she pulled the sheet up around his shoulders. He rested one hand lightly on her breast again, holding it as though she were made of glass. "You're right," he told her after a minute. "There is nothing nicer than this." "Well ..." "What?" "How about waking up with the one you love?" "I can top that," said Mulder, after a moment. "With what?" "Waking up and making love all over again, only very, very slowly this time." xxx Mulder Residence June 24th, 1995 "Betsy, it's Mulder." "You're not coming for brunch, are you?" "How'd you know?" She chuckled. "Intuition." "Dana says to tell you that you were right on both counts, whatever that means." "I'm glad. Take care of her, Mulder. And let her take care of you. You deserve her." "But does she deserve m--Ow! Stop!--Apparently, Dana believes she does deserve me. Just what did you two talk about last night?" "Secret girl stuff. 'Bye, Mulder." He hit the cellular phone's off button and put it back on the nightstand beside the package of condoms. Beneath him, Dana smiled and stretched before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Again?" "Again," he confirmed, bending to kiss her. "Very, very slowly." The End