Reply To: lovesfox@home.com Title: Alarming Behavior Author: Lovesfox E-mail: lovesfox@home.com Website: www.geocities.com/sstormc/index.html Rating: NC-17 Category: Story, Angst, MSR Spoilers: Not really. Takes place somewhat after En Ami. Summary: Something terrible happens, can Mulder and Scully deal with it? Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, what can I say? They are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Production. Archive: Sure, if you want it, just let me know please! WARNING: This story contains subject matter that may be offensive or difficult for some readers. There is a rape scene and graphic sex. Lyrics from the song "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden re-printed without permission. Alarming Behavior (Part 1 of 4) by Lovesfox Mulder's Apartment Alexandria, VA Mulder leaned wearily against the back wall of the elevator, staring upwards with unblinking eyes as the lights lit for each floor number. His suit jacket was slung over one shoulder, his tie askew. Finally, the doors opened on his floor, and he stepped out slowly, shoulders slumped. He had been looking down as he exited, and did not see the other person waiting to enter the elevator. Their shoulders met with a thud, and Mulder exhaled heavily at the impact, hearing the other person's surprised grunt. He staggered slightly, and felt a hand briefly clamp his arm, pinching slightly, before sliding away. Mulder was tired, and did not react very quickly. By the time he turned to apologize, the doors were already closing. He had a vague impression of a scraggly-haired man, looking out at him with dark eyes. Did he know the man? Something nudged briefly at his mind, and then was gone. Mulder stared at the closed doors for a moment before shaking his head briefly. The sounds of his footsteps were loud on the tiles as he made his way down the hallway to his apartment. He stopped in front of his door, his free hand digging in his pants pocket for his keys. He turned his house key in the lock, pushing the door open with one foot. He nudged it shut behind him and re-locked it. He tossed his jacket in the general direction of his couch, not caring as it missed and slid to the floor. He tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening it, before yanking it over his head. It joined the jacket on the floor. Mulder toed his shoes off one by one and then ran a hand across his mouth, over his face and through his hair as he stood there in the middle of the room. He stretched his arms out and behind, elbows bending with the motion. There was a slight ache in his arm and shoulder from his collision and he rubbed at it briefly. He sorted through the handful of mail that had been accumulating in his mailbox, most of it bills. He tossed them on the side table. That was a chore for later. He wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, staring without interest at the meager contents within for long moments. He really wasn't that hungry, anyway. He pushed the door shut, hearing it slam as he walked out of the kitchen. He moved over to check his answering machine. The red light was flashing. He pushed 'Play' and listened to the three messages. Nothing of vital importance, although Frohike wanted him to show him some interesting photos he and Langly had downloaded off the net. He pushed 'Erase', and hesitated, hand resting on the phone on the desk. With a wry twist of his lips, he decided to call the guys tomorrow. He really didn't feel like going out anywhere. He turned and stood there, eyes blank. He had been going to... what had he planned to do? He couldn't remember. Mulder started to shake his head, telling himself to just lie down and get some sleep, when he was surprised by a sudden, blinding pain behind his eyes. He bent at the waist, hands coming up to clasp his head, moaning. He felt himself stagger, nearly falling, and stumbled over to the couch, still bent over. He fell into it, hands not releasing his head. He lay down, feeling the cool leather against his cheek. The pain continued, throbbing in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, another moan escaping his tightly clamped lips. He shot one hand out, groping along the coffee table. His fingers brushed his portable phone, and he moved forward slightly, the motion increasing the pain in his head, and grabbed the phone. Scully. She could help him. He brought the phone to his face, opening one eye to squint at the buttons. He pushed in her number and pressed the phone to his ear. The phone rang twice, the sound shrill in his ears, before Scully's voice came through the receiver, saying her name. "Scully," he grunted, face screwed up from the pain. "Scully, I need some help." He listened as she began speaking rapidly, asking him what was wrong. "Please, Scully," he gasped. He barely heard her affirmative reply as the phone slipped from his hand to fall to the floor. Scully's Apartment Georgetown, DC Scully let herself into her apartment, struggling a little with her briefcase and the two bags of groceries she had picked up on the way home. Finally inside, she pushed the door shut with her hip, dropping her briefcase on the floor to lock it behind her. She pushed her briefcase to the side with one foot and then carried the groceries into the kitchen. As she passed the little table by the door, she dropped her keys on it, checking the answering machine with a quick glance. No messages. She efficiently unpacked the groceries, neatly storing everything in its proper place. The wine bottle she left on the counter for later. She was going to change into more comfortable clothes, make some dinner and then relax with a nice glass of wine. Or two. The day had been long. Actually, she mused, the entire week had been long. No new cases, no leads to follow. Just office work. Interspersed with a couple of autopsies as a favor to the VCU. She left the kitchen to retrieve her briefcase from the floor, slipping one hand in the side flap to remove the mail she had grabbed on the way up. She flipped through it quickly, noting a thick card-sized envelope addressed to her in her sister-in-law's writing. Probably more pictures of Matthew. The rest were bills and she carried them over to her desk, laying them on the mouse pad, to be dealt with later. She put her briefcase down next to the chair. As she went down the hall to her bedroom, she worked one fingernail along the seal of the envelope, feeling it pull away. She saw a flash of bright color. It was a card. Tara loved to send them just to say 'hi', almost as much as she loved to chat on the phone. Scully pulled it out, careful not to let the pictures fall to the ground. She sat on her bed and opened it. She placed the pictures to one side while she read her Tara's message, smiling at the first words, 'just a short note...'. Tara did not know the meaning of a short note. Her flowery handwriting filled both sides of the blank note card. She scanned it briefly, intending to read it in full later and put it down, picking up the pictures. A couple of Bill, Tara and Matthew, all three grinning at the camera, one of Bill and Matthew, mugging with identical faces, and one of Matthew alone, his shy smile reminding her so much of Bill as a child. She sighed as she returned the pictures to the card, rising from the bed and walking over to place the card on her dresser. Scully removed her holster and placed her gun on the dresser beside the card. She was just starting to shrug out of her jacket when her phone rang. She moved over to the night table to scoop up her portable, pressing the answer button and saying, "Scully," into the receiver. She listened as Mulder said he needed help. Her heart quickened and she asked him what was wrong. She went cold as first she heard his voice whisper 'Please, Scully' and then a thud as his phone fell or was dropped to the floor. She hung up, tossing the phone on the bed. She grabbed her gun out of the holster and was running down the hallway, grabbing her keys from the table in one smooth motion. She was out the door, locking it behind her and heading down the hallway in moments. There was only one thought in her mind. Mulder needed her help. Mulder's Apartment Alexandria, VA Mulder did not know how long he lay there after calling Scully. The sharp pain behind his eyes had finally stopped, and he could move without feeling like his head was going to explode. But his mind refused to work. He could not form a thought beyond her name. Scully. There was a knock then, sharp and quick. He struggled to rise from the couch, his body strangely lethargic, managing to sit up, barely. He obviously took too long, because he could hear the door opening and then closing again, followed by heels clicking across his floor. Then Scully was crouching in front of him, her cool hands cupping his cheeks. He heard her whisper his name, and looked into her eyes, seeing the concern on her face. Her eyes. He could drown in her eyes. Their blueness drew him in, engulfed him, mesmerized him. He stared wordlessly into them, not hearing her call his name, and then again, more sharply. There were only her eyes. He vaguely felt her hands leave his cheeks to begin smoothing through his hair, feeling along his scalp gently. He blinked slowly, heavily, and realized her lips were moving. Her lips. Red, ripe, full. Hertongue darted out to moisten them, and he mimicked her gesture, his own lips suddenly dry. Sound reached him again. Scully's voice, saying his name. "Mulder, are you all right? Mulder, can you talk to me?" He nodded slowly. He loved to hear her say his name. The low tones, the way she rolled the L slightly. He had never noticed that before. Why hadn't he noticed that before? Had she always said it that way, with the hint of sex hidden beneath? Her hands were on his upper arms then, urging him up, and he shivered at the contact. Strong, capable hands. Hands he imagined running over his bare chest, up his back. He swallowed thickly, and allowed her to pull him off the couch, lead him into his bedroom, faintly hearing her voice telling him she wanted him to lie down. Mulder staggered slightly as they neared the bed, and the motion caused him to lean into Scully, his nose pushing into her hair. He inhaled deeply, and her smell, the smell of Scully, sent a surge of lust straight to his groin. Scully turned to face him fully, her hands coming up to grasp his upper arms again. Of their own volition, his hands rose to her hips. He clasped them firmly, bringing her body flush against his. Scully gasped, and the sound sent shivers through him. He thrust his hips in reaction, pushing his sudden erection into her stomach. "Mulder?" Scully whispered, her voice husky and confused. "Mmmmm. . ." he mumbled, mouth nuzzling at her neck, breathing in her scent, intoxicating and wild. His hips thrust again, and one hand slid from her hip to grab her ass, pushing her firmly into his body. He kissed his way up her neck, along her jaw, before finally settling on those lips. Lips that were meant for kisses. Deep, wet, long kisses. His kisses. His tongue swept inside, forcing her mouth open wider. He ignored her whimper, not knowing if it was from desire or fear, not really caring, his other hand leaving her hip to trail up her body and tangle in the hair at her nape, holding her head still. He felt her hands slide up his arms to push at his shoulders. She could get little leverage with their bodies pressed so closely together, so there was no strength behind the effort. He ignored her attempt, slanting his head for better access to her mouth. She moved her head, trying to pull away, and his hand grabbed the back of her neck roughly, squeezing until she desisted. Without breaking the kiss he swept the hand from her ass up her back to begin tugging at her jacket. It was difficult, and he had to pull away from her for precious moments and switch to his other hand, until he finally succeeded in removing it. He threw it to the floor, having never once lost contact with her lips. He walked towards his bed, pushing her with his body. He felt it bump against her legs and then they were falling upon it, his body landing atop of hers, her lips finally breaking free from his kiss. "Mulder? What the hell are you doing?" Scully asked, and there was anger in her voice, as well as a touch of fear. Her hands had come up to his chest as they fell to the bed, and she began pushing at him, bracing her back against the firm mattress. He did not reply, did not even meet her gaze. His eyes were focused on her chest, which was heaving from her exertions. His pelvis ground into hers as he lifted his upper body up to grab her hands with both of his. He pulled them away from his chest and lifted them to rest on the bed over her head. The motion thrust her breasts forward and pulled her blouse away from her pants. His eyes were drawn to the pale flesh revealed. He manacled her wrists with one of his hands, and the other came to rest on her throat. He slid that hand down her front until it came to a rest on the bare flesh of her stomach. The muscles there skittered and jumped at his touch. He slid it back up, dragging the blouse with it, baring more of her skin. He caught a glimpse of pale pink lace and his fingers were suddenly tugging at her buttons. The first three opened with ease, but he had trouble with the one between her breasts. With a growl, he pulled at it. The button popped, and he heard it roll across the floor. He parted the blouse, and his breath escaped in a hiss as he stared at the swell of her breasts, encased in pale pink satin cups, the bra edged with that same lace. He could hear his name being whispered over and over again, but the voice was faint, far away. Were there tears in that voice? He pushed the thought away, too entranced with the beauty before him. His face descended, burying itself in her cleavage. He inhaled deeply, smelling the musk of her body. His erection began pulsing, pressing painfully against the confines of his pants. He began a slow, steady thrusting against her to relieve the ache. Her wrists were twisting in his grasp, and she had begun to buck to try and throw his weight off of her. He tightened his grip on her wrists, feeling the fine bones grinding together, and shifted his lower body slightly, so that it pinned her more completely, beginning his thrusting motions again, harder this time. His free hand came up and plucked at the front clasp of her bra. It opened, and he slid the cups aside to reveal her bare breasts. His breath escaped him in a hiss of pleasure. His hand hovered in the air a moment before covering one of the mounds, hefting its weight, squeezing it firmly. He released it to let his hand move lightly, brushing his palm over her nipple. It hardened with the motion, and he bared his teeth in a savage grin as he heard a moan. His fingers pinched it, rolled it between his thumb and one finger. The moan came again, and he felt his penis spasm in reaction. His mind suddenly had one thought, and one thought only. To plunge himself into her, over and over again. His hand moved from her breast to the waistband of her pants. He yanked at the button, feeling it pop and come away in his hands. He flung it over his shoulder and then pulled her zipper down. She was squirming again, her body twisting, trying to dislodge him, and he used her motions to work her pants down her legs. He pulled her shoes off roughly, hearing each one clunk as it hit the floor, and then yanked her pants off, throwing them down as well. He ran his hand up her leg to the apex of her thighs, encountering the barrier of her matching silk panties. His breath was panting in and out harshly, and his fingers plucked ineffectually at the panties. With a growl of frustration, he grasped the edge and ripped them off, the thin material almost shredded by the strength of the motion. There was only the rushing in his ears, and the feel of her body beneath his. His hand pulled his shirt out of his pants and ripped it open, buttons scattering like seeds in the wind. He moved to his own waistband, struggling with his belt buckle. Wasted seconds as he fought with it, and finally it was open. His fingers fumbled at the button, the zipper. He shoved his pants and jockeys down together, his erection springing free. It was huge, engorged with blood, and throbbed with each beat of his heart. His feet kicked once more, the clothes dropping to the floor. He used his knee to shove her legs apart and forced his hips between them, bringing his lower body flush against hers, his penis brushing against the nest of curls. He reached between them and grabbed his penis in his hand, guiding it to her entrance, thrusting his hips forward. He met resistance, she was not wet and ready for him. His hand went to her leg, sliding under her thigh. He lifted her leg, bending it at the knee and pushing it towards her chest. It opened her wide, and he shoved inside. She cried out in pain, and her body lurched against his in reaction, unwittingly pulling him deeper. He moaned as her heat enveloped him. He began to thrust harder, rapid movements that caused his belly to slap against hers, feeling her body rock beneath his. He released her wrists in order to use that arm to support his weight, his other arm still clamped around her thigh, holding her leg up. This new position enabled him to push harder, deeper. Beyond anything but the feel of her body writhing beneath his, he barely felt her hands hitting at his chest, shoving at him. He buried his face in the flesh of her breasts, sucking and nipping, unaware of the grunting noises that escaped his mouth with each thrust of his body. His teeth tugged at a nipple and he sucked furiously, his tongue worrying it frantically. Her unique scent, mingling with the smell of sex filled his nostrils, and an animal urge overcame him. He bit the flesh before him, high on the slope of her left breast, feeling his teeth break the surface. She cried out, her voice high and thin, and her hips bucked mightily in her pain. Her motion disturbed his rhythm, and he growled his anger. His hand left her thigh and came up to wrap around her throat, squeezing until he heard choking sounds. He released her throat, ignoring her gasps for air, hand trailing along her neck to her breast where he plucked at her nipple with his fingertips for a moment. He then dropped the weight of his upper body onto her, his hands sliding under her back to crush her tightly to him, hips resuming their fast pumping. Her fists began to beat at his back, his ribs. She grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked, and his head reared back, shaking her hand loose before his mouth descended on hers, grinding against her teeth. He felt a flash of heat high on his shoulder blade as her fingernails scored his flesh, but he ignored it. The incredible pressure was building in his groin and he continued to pump, faster and faster, hips slamming against hers. Suddenly with one last, hard thrust, he emptied himself into her, his entire body tensing, a long, drawn-out groan forced past his lips. His muscles quivered as his hips still pumped away, and then he finally collapsed atop her, lungs heaving. His breathing slowed, and his muscles became lax, heavy. Within moments he had passed out. *** Scully lay beneath him, breathing with difficulty as his weight compressed on her chest. She could still feel his penis twitching within her. Hot tears continued to leak from her eyes, sliding into her hair. Her bottom lip hurt and she could taste blood. She wasn't sure if she had bitten it, or if Mulder had. Mulder. Her eyes squeezed shut, the memories running rampant through her mind. Arriving at his apartment to find him sitting slumped on the couch. His vagueness and lack of response. Leading him to his bedroom, intending to help him undress and tuck him in. Him stumbling against her, and then his hands grabbing her, pulling her into his body. Feeling his erection pressed against her, her own surge of arousal in response, quickly masked. His lips nuzzling her neck, his hand on her ass. Then his mouth on hers, his tongue deep inside. Trying to push him away, knowing it was too much, too soon, even if she did want him. Badly. He was moving too fast, they should talk. His hand rough on her neck, holding her still. Him pulling her jacket off and pushing her onto the bed. Fear and anger warring within her as she tried to stop him. Him tearing at her their clothes, the surprising shock as he entered her roughly. Her ineffectual struggles to get him off her, to reach him somehow, calling his name to no avail. His hand at her throat, squeezing, choking her. . . She stifled a sob, re-living the fear she had felt at thinking Mulder, Fox Mulder, her partner, her best friend, could ever hurt her that way. She tried to move, feeling aches and pains all over her body. His snoring reached her ears, and gathering every last bit of strength she had left, she put her palms flat on his chest and shoved. Mulder rolled off of her onto his back, his penis slipping out, leaving a burning sensation between her thighs. She pulled her legs free and rose painfully from the bed. The tears continued to run down her face, dripping onto the floor. She winced as she stood there, weaving slightly. She staggered into his bathroom to clean herself, turning the taps on, avoiding the mirror over the sink, not wanting to see her reflection. As she ran the water over a cloth that had been sitting on the countertop, she involuntarily looked up. Her eyes were huge and wild in her face, tears leaving mascara tracks along her cheeks, lips red and swollen, and her hair was a disheveled mess. She looked away, running the cloth over her eyes before folding the cloth and hurriedly wiping between her legs, wincing again at the soreness there. She rinsed the cloth out thoroughly and then tossed it in the small hamper in the corner. Her open blouse flapped around her as she moved, and she looked down at herself. Her bra hung open as well, and she was naked from the waist down. Her eyes were caught then by the bite mark on the fleshy upper part of her left breast. It was almost a complete circle, clear imprints of Mulder's teeth. A wave of mixed emotions, of shame and fear and pain, washed over her, and her hand came down to steady herself against the sink cabinet as she felt faint for a brief moment. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and quickly re-did the clasp on her bra, before buttoning up her blouse. It gaped open at her cleavage, due to the button Mulder had ripped off in his haste, but she knew her jacket would hide the sight from the prying eyes of anyone she might encounter on the way home. Scully almost tiptoed back into Mulder's bedroom. She needed to get out of here before he woke up. She stooped and grabbed her pants, hands trembling a little, shooting quick looks in Mulder's direction to make sure he had not awoke. In the semi-darkness she could not see her panties, and heard again in her mind the sound they had made as Mulder had torn them off her. She shoved her legs into her pants hastily, she could ignore the fact that she had no underwear on for the trip home. Her shoes were almost hidden beneath his pants beside the bed, and she pulled them free, grabbing her jacket as well, before making her way carefully through the mess that remained, out into the other room. She glanced back once more, to see Mulder sprawled on his back, legs spread, mouth open, snoring. She put her shoes and jacket on, buttoning it to conceal her gaping blouse, and picked up her gun off the coffee table where she had placed it when she had knelt before Mulder on his couch. Her keys were there as well and she scooped them up. She left, shutting the door quietly behind her, walking carefully down the hallway to the elevator. Scully's Apartment Georgetown, D.C. Scully let herself into her apartment, shutting the door and locking it behind her, sliding the deadbolt home as well. During the drive home her body had stiffened, and walking from the car to her apartment had brought all her aches and pains to new life. She desperately needed a long, hot soak in her tub. She glanced at her answering machine as she passed the small table and dropped her keys upon it, feeling a sense of deja vu, remembering coming home and doing the same thing not too long ago. The red light was flashing, signaling a message or messages waiting, but she ignored it, continuing on towards her bedroom. She put her gun back into her holster sitting on her dresser and then simultaneously kicked off her shoes while removing her jacket. She allowed the jacket to fall to the floor, eyes closing briefly as she saw Mulder tear it off her and throw it to the ground. She unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall as well, knowing she would probably never be able to wear it again, even if she replaced the missing button. Her bra and pants quickly followed, joining the pile. She grabbed her thick terrycloth robe from the foot of her bed, wrapping it tightly around her body, shivering slightly from the cold. Probably from delayed shock too, she told herself. Tying the sash, she shuffled into the bathroom, bending to turn the taps on, letting the water run for a few minutes before plugging the drain. She cranked the hot water tap as far as it could go. Her legs were shaky, and she felt weak. She hated to feel weak, and cursed softly as fresh tears sprung to her eyes. Why had Mulder. . . She stopped the thought, she would not think about him, about what had happened. Not right now. She sank down onto the toilet seat, staring mindlessly at the water filling the tub, at the steam that rose from the heat of it. She was unaware she was rocking herself back and forth, her arms crossed defensively across her middle. Finally the tub was nearly full and she stood with a wince, shedding her robe. She lifted her leg slowly and stepped into the tub, feeling the burn of the hot water. She didn't care. Her other leg followed and she sank down onto her bottom, legs drawn up to her chest, one arm clasped around her knees. Her other hand reached out and turned the taps off. Her skin had reddened from the hot water almost immediately, and she felt the ache between her legs begin to throb. Goose bumps covered her bare arms and shoulders and she shivered before scooting her rear end down slightly so that she could lie back, her head coming to a rest on the rim of the tub. A sigh passed her lips as the heat of the water began to work its magic, easing the myriad aches and pains of her body. The water stung the bite mark on her breast, and her hand came up, one finger tracing it lightly. The skin was broken, but had not bled, and although it would be bruised for a while, she knew it would not scar. Her nipples were sore, from his twisting and pulling. She stared at the wrist of the hand by her breast and then brought the other one up to examine it too. There were faint finger-sized marks on both of them, marks she knew would be bruises in the morning. Her hand went to her throat next, remembering the feel of his hand choking her, sure there would also be evidence of it the next day. Her left thigh ached from being held up close to her body, and even though she could not see the back of it, she was sure it too would be marked. Scully realized suddenly that by taking this bath, she had effectively destroyed some of the evidence of. . . her rape. She swallowed the lump in her throat, finally admitting to herself that that was what had happened to her. She had been raped. By Mulder. Not that she would consider reporting the incident to anyone. Ever. Mulder's Apartment Alexandria, VA Mulder woke in the darkness of night. He realized that he was naked and he was cold. His hands fumbled at the bedding for long moments, feeling his head throb slightly with his motions. Finally he managed to pull them out from under his body so that he could snuggle into the warmth. He turned on his side, and moved his head a little on the pillow, trying to find a position that would not aggravate his head further. He pulled the blankets up around his neck, tucking his head down, his nose almost buried. For some reason, the bedding smelled like Scully. He smiled to himself, rubbing his cheek against the pillow. Scully. He drifted back to sleep thinking of Scully. *** Mulder awoke again, just as dawn was breaking, lunging up in the bed. His breath was coming harsh and fast, and his head throbbed for a moment, in time with his heartbeat. He was also sporting a fairly sizeable hard-on. Another strange dream. He had been tormented by dreams all night. Dreams about he and Scully. Dreams of a sexual nature. He had had sexual dreams about Scully before, fantasies even, but these had been different. Disturbing. Almost violent. He brought a hand up to his eyes, rubbing at their soreness. His mouth had that gummy, dry taste, like the morning after an all night binge. Except for the fact that he couldn't remember having had anything to drink the night before. In fact, he could remember little, if anything, of the night before. His mind was fuzzy. He kicked the covers off and realized with a start that he was naked except for his dress socks. What the hell? He never slept in socks, and rarely in the buff, he liked pajama bottoms or boxer shorts at the very least. This morning was getting stranger and stranger. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and they encountered a pile of clothing on the floor. He shook his head. Had he been on a bender? He was a slob, that was true, always had been, but he never just dropped his clothes by the bed and fell into it naked. With a twist of his lips, he thought . He stood, his body as weak as a newborn kitten, feeling his head begin to throb again. Mulder sighed and bent to scoop up the clothes at his feet, his pants with his jockeys still inside, and his dress shirt. He dropped the pants on the bed and held up the once crisp white shirt. All the buttons were missing, the tiny threads that remained evidence that they had been torn off. He tossed it on top of the pants and shook his head. A flash of pale pink on the floor caught his eye and he stepped over to it, bending to pick up a torn pair of silk panties. Women's panties. He fingered the cool silk in his hands, trying to think. His head throbbed violently for a minute, and he closed his eyes at the sensation. In his mind he saw himself on his bed, over a woman, tearing the panties off of her. The vision lasted only an instant, before he could see the woman's face. His eyes popped open, and he spun, whipping around to stare at his bed. The motion caused a flare of pain on his back, high on his shoulder blades. He lifted his arm and awkwardly felt along his skin. Scratches? His breath came faster, and he almost ran into his bathroom, turning his back to peer over his shoulder into the mirror. Long, red, angry looking scratches starting at the top of his back and running down about a hand's length. They looked like fingernail scratches. Jesus. What the hell had he done? Mulder left the bathroom and moved back to the bed. He sank down onto it, his thoughts whirling. He could not remember anything of the previous night. He took a deep breath, and concentrated, thinking through the entire day. . . Greeting Scully at the office, indulging in their usual morning banter. A meeting with Skinner about expense reports. Killing time until lunch, which had been at a local eatery just around the corner from the Hoover building. Killing more time after lunch as Scully had a meeting with the senior Agent on a case she was assisting on for the VCU to discuss autopsy results. Reading through incident reports from crime databases, looking for any interesting or unusual occurrences. Joking with Scully as they headed to their cars at the end of the day. Fighting rush hour traffic. Riding up the elevator, tired beyond belief. Bumping into some guy getting out of the elevator. Letting himself in the apartment. . . His head throbbed again, and he remembered feeling such pain in his head that he could barely move. Remembered calling Scully for help. And that's where things went blank. Scully. He would call Scully. She could help him find out what happened. Mulder realized he still held the silk panties balled up in his hand. He put them down on the bed and then leaned down to peel his socks off before rising slowly, cautiously. His head did not throb this time, but a dull ache had settled in behind his eyes. He walked over to his bureau, and opening one of the drawers, he pulled out a pair of track pants. He slid them on and went out into the living room. His portable phone was on the floor by the coffee table, and he sat down on his couch, reaching over to pick it up. He dialed Scully's number, shifting until he was sitting with his back against the leather. The phone rang twice in his ear before going to her machine. He realized he didn't even know what time it was, beyond being early, having seen the first rays of dawn streaking the sky. He waited for the beep and then said, "Scully, it's me. Call me when you're up." He hung up and thought that maybe a shower would help clear his mind, maybe get rid of his headache too. *** After a long, hot shower, Mulder felt somewhat better. He was more awake and his headache had nearly dissipated. He dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, brushed his teeth and hair, and went into the other room to check his machine. No messages. He glanced at the watch he had strapped on while dressing, and saw that it was just shy of 7 am. Scully had told them as they were leaving that she had no plans beyond relaxing at home that night, so he did not think it was too early to try again. Besides, she was used to him phoning her at all hours. He picked up his phone and dialed her number again, pacing around the room as he listened to the two rings followed by her voice asking him to leave a message. He said, "Scully, it's me again. Call me." He hung up the phone and put it down on the coffee table. He paced back and forth on the worn carpet, his gazed flicking from the silent phone to his watch to the floor he trod upon. Twice he stopped and peered through his blinds at the street outside, slowly getting busier as the morning progressed. With an exasperated sigh, he snatched the phone up and dialed Scully's number again. She had to be up by now, he knew her. Even on the weekends she was usually up early, running errands, cleaning her apartment, doing laundry. He got her machine yet again. "Scully, it's me. Pick up, wouldja? It's important." He pressed disconnect and tossed the phone onto the couch. He couldn't stand to just sit here and wait, he had to move. He stalked over to his bedroom door, where his leather jacket hung, and snatched it up, pulling it on roughly. He paused for a second and then strode into his bedroom and over to the bed. He picked up the panties and stuffed them into his pocket. He walked back out and towards the door, stopping to scoop up his keys and cell phone before heading out to go to Scully's place. End Part 1 of 4 Alarming Behavior (Part 2 of 4) by Lovesfox Scully's Apartment Georgetown, D.C. Scully rolled over gingerly, shifting with a grimace as the phone rang yet again. What was that, the third time in less than an hour? She did not feel like talking to anyone, and was half-certain it was Mulder. Who was she kidding? Of course it was Mulder. She wondered what he could possibly have to say to her. 'Gee, sorry, Scully, got a little carried away last night. Forgive me?' The thought of actually having to talk to him right now twisted her insides, and she brought her knees up to her stomach to curl in a little ball. The motion woke all her aches and pains, and she let out a little moan. She knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now, so she threw back the covers and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She sat still for a moment, bracing herself, and then stood. She felt the blood rush, and was light-headed for a moment. After her long soak last night she had covered herself in heavy flannel pajamas, with thick wool socks on her feet, and climbed into bed, foregoing dinner, her appetite non-existent. Not that she had gotten much sleep, she mused with a grimace. For the longest time she had lain there in the dark, jumping at sounds, seeing shadows, before finally turning the lamp beside her on to its lowest setting. Just enough to keep her imagination at bay. But still, every time she had shut her eyes, her mind had been assaulted with memories from the night before. She pushed the thoughts to a corner of her mind. She was not going to spend the day thinking about it too. She glanced at the clock on the night table. It was almost 7:30 am. She decided to have a quick shower, get dressed and go out somewhere. Anywhere. To keep her self busy so that she had no time to think. The sudden shrill ring of her cell phone had her jumping slightly. Her nerves were obviously jangled from the lack of sleep. The sound seemed to be coming from the pile of clothes still on the floor where she had dropped them last night and she moved over to them, eyeing them with distaste. She should just grab a garbage bag and throw them out. The ringing continued, and she reached down and picked up her jacket. The phone was in one of the pockets. She pulled it out and held it in her hand, listening as it rang for endless moments. Finally, it stopped. She turned it off and placed it on her dresser beside her gun. She stared at it for a moment, thinking. She had forgotten all about it in her haste to get to Mulder last night, and had not even known it was in her pocket. She shook her head. It didn't matter now, anyway. She needed to get moving. With that decided, she grabbed her thick, terry cloth robe from the end of the bed and moved into the bathroom. She readied the shower, shed her pajamas and socks and stepped under the hot spray. She stood there, letting the water stream down her body, sighing with pleasure as it relaxed her sore, tense muscles, before reaching for the shampoo bottle. Soon its fragrance filled the room as she washed and rinsed her hair. A quick wash of her body and she was done. After drying herself with her large, fluffy towel, she wrapped the robe around her body, tying the sash tight.She stepped closer to the mirror over the sink and picked her brush up off the counter, to begin running it through the wet strands of her hair. The motion was soothing, and somewhat hypnotic. There was a faint sound down the hall. She paused, blinking in surprise, her hand in mid-stroke. Was that a knock at the door? The sound came again, a little louder this time. It was a knock. Her heart started to beat faster, fear nearly overwhelming her. She knew it was Mulder. Her eyes were a little wild as she stared at herself in the mirror. What the hell should she do? He was fully capable of pounding on that door for as long as it took for her to open it or the landlord to come up and let him in just to stop the noise. The pounding started then. Followed by his voice calling her name. She cringed and hurried down the hall. She stopped at her door, rising on tiptoe to peer out the spy hole. Mulder was staring directly at it, and said her name again. His voice was loud, and she could hear it clearly through the wood. "Scully, I know you're there! Open up. I need to talk to you!" Scully lowered herself, one hand coming up to tug the edges of her robe closer together, the other going out to unlock the door. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, her facial features composed, and hopefully blank, before turning the knob and pulling the door open. She had to step back as Mulder rushed in. Not only just to get out of his way, but because she did not think she could handle it if he touched her, even if it was in passing. She saw out of the corner of her eye that he immediately began pacing. She took a moment to shut the door and lock it again before turning to face him. Her heart had settled into a steady fast beat, loud in her ears. She took another deep breath and opened her mouth to speak. Mulder beat her to it. "Scully, something happened last night. I don't know what, but I think. . .I think it was bad." His voice was lower now, and there was a hint of fear in it. He turned to her then, and his eyes implored her to help him. Both his tone and his words stunned her, and she stood there silently, mouth still open. Anger began to battle with the fear. What kind of sick game was this? Something must have shown in her eyes, because he came over to her, saying, "Scully, what is it?" His arms lifted up as he reached to clasp her shoulders. Scully stepped back quickly to avoid his hands, nearly tripping on the edge of the rug as she did. She looked down quickly as she heard his gasp of surprised shock. Her heart was beating triple time now, and her breath was coming faster, harsher. Seeing his hands coming at her had reminded her of how he had choked her in punishment for trying to move away from him, and she had briefly felt like she was choking again as she remembered. She had let go of her robe as she stumbled and brought her hand back up to her throat, rubbing it as if to soothe the pain away. She heard her name whispered, and looked up to meet Mulder's stunned eyes. *** Mulder had frozen in place as Scully backed away, his hands still outstretched towards her. He had seen fear flash in her eyes as he moved to her, and stopped immediately. He lowered them to his sides slowly and watched her, seeing her steady herself, looking down to avoid his gaze. His eyes were drawn to her throat as her hand came up to rub at it, and he felt a stab of pain in his heart when he saw bruises stark on her pale flesh. He whispered her name, fear making his voice tremble, and she looked up at him. Her eyes met his briefly, before skittering away, flitting about, looking at anything but him, and he felt another stab of pain. His head throbbed then, a reminder of why he had come. But that could wait, he had to find out what had happened to Scully, find out why she was acting so strangely. He cleared his throat and spoke again, his voice only marginally stronger. "Scully, what happened? Are you okay? Do you need to go see a doctor?" He started toward her again and watched as she backed away yet again. He tamped down the automatic surge of anger when she did, and stopped, his hands coming out, palms up, in a gesture of surrender or peace. Something was very wrong. Strangely, his normally quick mind did not connect the unknown events of his evening with Scully's bruises and odd reactions. Not then. Mulder was not surprised when Scully shook her head rapidly, her eyes huge in her face as she shifted them to meet his briefly. His partner was a lousy patient, and hated to be sick or hurt. "Okay, Scully, no doctor," he said, his voice calm, and hopefully soothing. "Can you tell me what happened then?" Her head jerked in another negative shake. He watched as her hand clenched the hem of her robe together at her neck, like she had been doing when he first came in. Her other arm was clamped across her stomach, and her shoulders were hunched slightly. He realized she was in a classic defensive position, as if she were shielding herself or preparing for an attack. The other pieces clicked into place. Shying from his touch, the anger and fear in her eyes, her alarming behavior. Scully was waiting for an attack from. . . him. Mulder's knees went weak, the blood in his veins icy cold. He staggered back from her, until the backs of his legs bumped the arm of the chair. His hand came out to catch himself on the padded surface, and he moved around it to sink down on the cushion. The breath he had not been aware he was holding suddenly whooshed from his lungs, and he saw spots before his eyes. His head fell forward, and he brought his hands up to cover his face. Images assaulted his mind suddenly. Scully crouched before him, her hands running through his hair, checking his scalp. Scully urging him to his feet, leading him into his bedroom. Stumbling into her, inhaling her wonderful smell. Grabbing her and kissing her. Pushing her onto his bed. Tearing her clothes off. Lying on top of her, forcing himself on her. Hurting her. . . *** Scully could hear Mulder's voice, tinny and far away, saying something about a doctor. Did he want her to go to the doctor? She panicked, shaking her head frantically, barely able to meet his gaze. She couldn't go to a doctor, they would find out what happened. Everyone would know. Mulder. . .Mulder would get in trouble. She heard his voice again, asking her to tell him what happened. She shook her head once more. None of this made sense. Could he really not remember what he had done? Her hand clutched her robe tightly again, feeling exposed, naked. With a start, she remembered that she was naked beneath the terry cloth, and the thought sent a frisson of fear through her. If he got hold of her, if he pulled at her robe, he would see that she was naked. What if he attacked her again? A part of her knew she was thinking irrationally, Mulder was not acting violent or aggressive in the least. In fact, he was treating her like someone who had been traumatized. Like she was a victim. Scully saw Mulder's face blanch, and then he stumbled back, away from her, almost falling into the armchair. His head dropped into his hands and she stared at him, uncertain. She jumped slightly when a low, keening sound reached her ears. She sidled a little closer, immediately concerned, to watch in surprise as he began to rock back and forth, his hands leaving his head to cradle his stomach. "Mulder?" she whispered, her voice low and shaky. It was the first time she had spoken to him. The first time she had spoken since crying out last night as he thrust into her. She was next to the chair now, hand hovering just above his shoulder, trembling slightly. Mulder lifted his head then, turning it to the side to look at her, and Scully instinctively stepped back, out of reach. She saw him flinch at her motion, and his eyes, oh God, his eyes. They looked tortured. Swimming with pain. Her heart lurched, and she felt her own eyes fill with tears. She wanted to go to him so badly, to comfort him. To take that look out of his eyes. She forgot her fear, the pain. "Mulder," she said again, her voice a little stronger, but still husky, her throat aching with unshed tears. "Mulder, what happened?" she asked. She moved a little closer, to crouch beside the chair, one hand closing her robe over her bare knees, the other one reaching out to touch his shoulder fleetingly before laying it on her lap. She watched as his mouth worked, but no sound came out. He squeezed his eyes shut, and one lone tear rolled down his cheek. He opened them, focusing intently on her face, and this time his voice could be heard. It was hoarse and guttural, but the words were audible. "Scully, I. . .I hurt you." Her eyes were wary as she studied him, and her next words were guarded, controlled. "Do you remember?" *** Mulder 's eyes remained on her. He knew the misery was clear on his face. "Not everything, but. . . enough," he replied, his voice still low. He looked down, no longer able to look in her eyes. To see the concern and compassion. Concern and compassion for him, the man who had raped her. "Scully, oh, Jesus, Scully, I raped you!" The last was a tortured cry. He rose out of the chair quickly, the suddenness of his movement obviously startling Scully, who fell back from her crouch beside the chair, and scuttled backwards awkwardly, staring up at him wordlessly. Her eyes were wide, her face paper white. Mulder stopped immediately, holding his hands out towards her. "Oh, Jesus, Scully, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He backed away slowly, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs, staring with such naked emotion. "Scully?" he asked, when she still hadn't moved. He wanted to go to her, but was afraid of her reaction. Finally, she blinked, and got to her feet. He could see she was shaking and felt his own body begin to shiver in reaction. "Scully?" he said again, easing one foot forward slowly, keeping his hands up, open and visible. "I'm. . .okay, Mulder," she said at last. Her hand was clenched tight at the neck of her robe again, the other fisted tightly at her side. He stepped closer when she did not object at his first step, and although her lips tightened, she did not tell him to stop. A few more steps and he was within an arms length. He could easily have stretched his hand out and touched her, but did not. The fact that she was letting him close to her was enough for now. "Oh, Scully," he said softly. "I don't know what happened, what made me do. . . what made me do such a horrible thing. I still don't really remember everything. Just bits and pieces." He saw her body visibly relax, and felt his own tight shoulders loosen as well. He watched as her hand slowly unclenched from the material at her throat, and smooth down her front. The other hand came up to meet it, and she clasped them together. He swallowed heavily and gestured her towards the couch. "Can we sit down?" he asked gently. She nodded, one quick jerk of her head, and as she hesitated, Mulder realized she was waiting for him to go first. So she could keep an eye on him, he knew. He went then, and sat down on the edge of the sofa, watching expectantly, hopefully. Scully followed more slowly, and lowered herself down onto the chair he had vacated. Far enough away from him that he would not be able to touch her, and where she could jump up and get away if he made any frightening or aggressive moves. He hurt, watching her behave this way, but was familiar with the myriad reactions of a rape victim. He waited a moment, to make sure she was not going to bolt, before clearing his throat and beginning. "Last night, after we left work, I was stuck in traffic, and it took a while to get home." He paused, it was funny that he could remember these details with such clarity, even recalling the driver's face in the black sedan that had nearly sideswiped him on the way, but he could not recall the events that had occurred after he got home. "I was tired, and I bumped into some guy as I got off the elevator at my floor." He stopped again, picturing the scene in his head. That man had seemed familiar somehow. He sensed Scully shifting nervously on the chair. She was probably wondering why he had stopped talking. "That guy, Scully, I feel like I should know who he is..." He rubbed one hand over his brow, he could feel a headache coming on. "My arm and shoulder hurt from bumping into the guy, and I went into my apartment, but I felt, I don't know, antsy, maybe, restless, distracted. I checked my messages, looked through my mail, thought about eating but changed my mind. I got this horrible pain in my head, and I collapsed on the couch. I had one thought on my mind, Scully. To call you for help." He swallowed again, his throat was very dry, had been ever since he got up. He longed for a glass of cold water, but did not want to risk upsetting Scully. "This is where I get kind of fuzzy," he continued. "I remember hearing you come in, your hands on my head. But I felt far away, distant. We went into my bedroom, and I smelled your hair, Scully, and it smelled so good." He noticed then that he could smell it again, that unique fragrance that was Scully. The fresh, clean scent of soap and the exotic, fruity mixture of her shampoo, and something more, perfume, maybe, he did not know. He only knew that he loved that smell. And that his body was reacting to it. Mulder shifted on the sofa, his hands in his lap. Scully had been silent through his recitation, although he had seen her eyebrow raise when he told her about the man he had bumped into. He spoke again. "I kissed you. . .and I was. . .I was aroused. " He looked away then, he could not look at her when he said this next part. His voice unconsciously lowered with his shame and pain at saying the words. "I can see myself pushing you on my bed, ripping your clothes off. Forcing you. . .Oh, Jesus, Scully, I raped you!" He sprang up again, and began pacing. He could not stay still, any more than he could look at her. His fists were clenched tight, the muscles in his neck and shoulders so tense that he walked stiffly. He avoided going anywhere near the chair where she still sat, moving over to stare unseeing out one of her windows. Her voice, when it reached his ears, was very low, almost a whisper. "Mulder," she said. He turned slowly, uncertainly, to see that Scully had risen from the chair and was staring at him. She was no longer so pale, and in fact, the color was high on her cheeks. He watched as her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. She seemed to be struggling to find her words. *** Scully felt cold as she listened to Mulder's reply. Her hands were shaking in her lap and she squeezed them together, hoping to still them. He didn't remember it all, but enough. Listening to his voice, seeing that he was unable to meet her eyes, she hurt so much. For herself, and for Mulder. Mulder jumped up then, startling her, and she fell back, almost on her rear, hands coming out and stopping the contact with the floor just in time. She could not help it, she immediately backed away, using her hands and feet. Her heart was pounding, almost painfully, and her breath was panting in and out of her lungs. She looked up and saw Mulder frozen in place, looking at her, the horror and remorse clear on his face. She heard his impassioned apology and felt a pang in her heart. She hadn't meant to react that way, had thought she was calm enough to be near him. But his unexpected movement had scared her. And now he was hurting again. She stood slowly, shivering with the cold, and clenched her robe shut again with one hand. "I'm...okay, Mulder," she said. She watched as he moved closer, and tensed slightly. He made no fast moves, and was soon standing very close. He could have touched her easily, but did not, and she let herself relax. This is Mulder, she told herself. But Mulder hurt you, said another voice in her head. No, she told herself. Something had been wrong last night, but everything was okay now. He wont hurt me. She released her hold at her neck, and ran her hand down the front of her robe, smoothing the material, before clasping her other hand. Mulder gestured toward the couch, asking her if they could sit, and she nodded. A part of her held herself back, letting him walk in front. Ready to flee? the voice asked. Stop it, she thought, and moved behind him, sitting down on the edge of the chair. Mulder was watching her. He seemed to be waiting for her to do something. When she did nothing, he cleared his throat and began telling her about his evening, after they had left work. She shifted uncomfortably when he stopped for a moment and then felt herself start, her eyebrow lifting, as he told her about the man he had bumped into. Something bothered her about that, but Mulder was still speaking. She would come back to it after. She listened, and could barely contain the tiniest of smiles when he said her hair smelled good. She wanted to tell him that his nose had tickled when he had breathed in her hair, and had sent a shiver of pleasure through her body, but she did not. She held silent, and then had to hold her breath as he talked of kissing her, and being aroused. A tingle had shot through her body when he had pressed his erection against her stomach, and she had been tempted, so very tempted, to push against it in return. But she had held back, worrying that they were taking a very big step, too soon. She could also still feel that first kiss, slightly rough, yes, but it had been incredible, his lips warm and firm. Then his tongue had entered her mouth and she had nearly given in again. The pleasure she had felt had warred with her fear at his rough handling of her body, his hand on her bottom, sweeping up to grab the back of her neck. She had begun to be frightened then. Mulder's next words ripped at her soul. "...Oh, Jesus, Scully, I raped you!" He burst off of the couch and began pacing. The torment in his voice moved her to tears. She blinked them back, rising from the chair slowly. She had to tell him how she had felt, that it wasn't as terrible as he imagined. He had raped her, yes, and he had hurt her, but they could get past this. That had to. She did not know how, but they would. She whispered his name. "Mulder." Scully watched as he turned from the window, and suddenly she did not know what to say. She felt a blush stain her cheeks as that little voice said, tell him you liked it at first. But it was true. She had liked it at first, very much. His hands, his lips, his body, stirring feelings within hers. "Mulder," she said again. She moved towards him, stopping a few feet away. "Mulder, when I got there, you were. . ." She stopped, mind whirling suddenly, remembering how he had been when she had arrived, piecing it together with his words from moments ago. She swallowed, unconsciously moving a little closer, one hand on her hip, the index finger of the other tapping her lip. "Mulder, you were barely responsive, your face was flushed, and your pupils were slightly dilated. I thought maybe you had fallen, hit your head, but I could feel no bumps or abrasions. " She stopped again, her eyes narrowing with anger, as she recalled him saying his arm had hurt after bumping into the man at the elevator. The anger was not directed at Mulder, but at this unknown person who..."Mulder, I believe you might have been drugged!" She took that last step to stand beside him, her hands coming up to tug at his jacket, pulling it down over his arms. Her nervousness and fear at his nearness seemed to have vanished in her concern for him. "Let me see your arm." They got his jacket off and let it drop to the floor. Mulder turned as he pulled the sleeve of his tee shirt up so that she could look at it. High on his upper arm, in the muscle, was a puffy red area, with a tiny white dot in the centre. An injection site. Scully hissed through her teeth. "Jesus, Mulder, someone...that man you bumped into, he injected you with something. We need to get your blood tested, as soon as possible. Let me go get dressed, and we'll go the Bureau, use their lab." Scully turned and walked quickly away, unaware of Mulder's surprised eyes following her as she left the room. *** Mulder watched Scully hurry from the room. He had been waiting to hear whatever was causing her to blush, and had not expected this turn of events. He looked at his arm again, at the evidence that he had been injected with some unknown drug. A drug that had made him rape Scully. Who could have done something like this? He immediately thought of CGB Spender, but after the recent trip the man had taken with Scully, where it seemed he had been trying to make amends, it did not make sense. The answer was there, he would just have to find it. He bent and picked up his jacket, slipping his arms inside the sleeves. From down the hall he could faintly hear Scully moving from her bedroom into the bathroom, the sound of her blow dryer. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, a dull ache behind them, and moved back over to the couch. He sank into it with a weary groan, leaning all the way back against the cushions. His mind would not stop thinking. About the previous night, about the man in the elevator...but most importantly, and the thought that lightened his heart considerably, was the fact that Scully had touched him. Not for very long, but voluntarily. Without repercussions. Her concern about him had over ridden her fear. He marveled at that, that her feelings for him let her push aside what he had done to her, to allow her to put that aside. He knew that it was just for that moment, that she would probably be skittish and uncomfortable around him for a while, but it was a start. Mulder realized he had fallen into a doze on her couch, when he startled awake at the sound of Scully's footsteps as she came back into the room. He sat up with a small grunt, to see her regarding him, an odd expression on her face. He knew immediately her walls were firmly back in place, and this time they were higher than they had ever been. Despair clutched at him with its cold fingers, but he pushed it away. He could not allow despair, or guilt, to drag him, or Scully, under. If he did, their bond, their friendship, whatever they had had before last night would be gone forever. Irretrievably lost. As would he himself. Mulder stood slowly, none of those thoughts on his face. He kept his expression blank and open, as he made his way to the door, careful to leave Scully plenty of space. He turned and waited by the door, watching Scully. He had noticed she had placed herself so that the chair was between them, and that her body was tense. He scanned her face and body as she stood there, mentally cataloging everything. She was dressed all in black, in casual pants and a blazer, with a mock turtleneck. To hide the bruises on her throat, he understood suddenly. That sent a dart of pain through him. Bruises he had caused. He wondered what other marks or injuries she was hiding beneath her clothes. He would find out, he needed to know. So that he could make amends for each and every one. He also noticed that her lips were slightly swollen, and red. She had not put any lipstick on. They must be sore. Her face was pale as well, but otherwise composed, with just a touch of make-up. He saw her take a deep breath and then release it. She walked over to the little ttable to the left of the doorand picked up her keys. She stopped a foot away from him, raising an eyebrow slightly. He followed her unspoken request and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway. He moved far enough away that she would not have to be near to him as she locked the door, which she did a moment later. They headed silently down the hallway, Mulder very aware of Scully behind him and to his left. Although there was only a foot or so separating them in reality, the mental distance between them was immeasurable. He sighed inwardly, obviously the interlude of normalcy was over. He vowed to himself that he would not let it stay that way. End Part 2 of 4 Alarming Behavior (Part 3 of 4) by Lovesfox J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, D.C. Scully shot another glance at Mulder as they rode the elevator towards the laboratory section of the Hoover building. They were the only occupants in the car, and had only encountered the guard on duty down in the lobby thus far. Scully was glad, she felt like she had a big sign on her forehead, 'I was raped', similar to the infamous scarlet letter 'A'. It was easier not to have to face the curious stares she was sure would be there. Mulder was very quiet, and had spoken little since they had left her apartment. She appreciated the fact that he was not pressing her to talk about what had happened last night. After she had gone to get dressed she had thought about what she had been about to reveal to him, and was thankful she had not. She could not burden him that way, nor reveal herself. Not now. She had become uncomfortable at the thought of telling him such an intimate detail about herself. And of course, her mind had gone off on a tangent, re-playing scenes from the previous night, and she had gotten all worked up again, feeling her pulse begin to race, her breathing accelerate. It had been an effort to return to the living room, to him. But she had, and found him sitting on her couch, slumped into the cushions, his eyes closed. He had looked so vulnerable, so lost. Her love for him had nearly overwhelmed her, and it was only through sheer force of will that she had kept herself from running to him and drawing him into her arms, to ease his pain and suffering. For she knew he was suffering, nearly as much, if not more, than she herself was. Lost in her thoughts as she was, Scully gave a start when the elevator jolted to a stop. Mulder turned to her, his hand automatically coming out to steady her. "I'm fine, Mulder," she said softly. He grimaced, but said nothing, merely stepped out of the elevator and started down the hall. Scully followed more slowly, taking a deep breath to steady her suddenly racing heart. She had felt a flash of fear as his hand came towards her, but was fairly sure nothing had shown on her face. There were only two technicians in the lab when they walked through the door. One looked up and smiled at Scully. She nodded back to the woman as she headed to the back corner. It was not unusual for either of them to be there, in fact, Scully had often worked there late in the evening or on the weekend, but she did not want anyone witnessing her drawing blood from Mulder. She could just imagine the rumor mill working overtime with that one. Scully gestured Mulder onto a stool and he sat obediently after taking his leather jacket off and laying it on the counter in front of him. She removed her blazer and hung it carefully on the back of a chair before getting the necessary items required to get a sample of Mulder's blood. She laid the kit next to his jacket and absent- mindedly pushed the sleeves of her turtleneck up out of the way. She had been aware of Mulder's eyes watching her every move and was a little startled when she heard him inhale sharply. She shot him a sideways glance, to see him staring at her wrists. To be exact, staring at the lurid bruises that encircled them like bracelets. She fought the impulse to tug her sleeves back down and cover the bruises. It would only make the situation worse. She met his eyes for a moment, the beautiful hazel orbs wide and pain-filled. His mouth opened, and she shook her head, saying his name quietly. He nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath before reaching one hand out slowly. He ran his index finger gently over the wrist closest to him, barely touching it, and she imagined he was memorizing each and every bruise. She managed not to flinch at the contact, as butterfly-light as it was, staring at his outstretched arm until he returned it to his lap. She circled her right hand around his left wrist, and lifted it to the counter, laying it open and facing up onto the cool surface. His skin was warm, and she could feel his pulse thrumming steadily against her fingers. It sent a tingle up along her arm, and shee released his wrist quickly,feeling a slight blush stain her cheeks. She risked another glance at Mulder, to see if he had noticed her reaction, but he was staring down at his lap. Scully picked up the tourniquet and tied it tightly around his upper arm, and then tapped her fingers on the flesh beneath the bend of his elbow. She inserted the needle deftly into the resulted bulging vein and attached the red- topped glass vial. In moments the vial was full and she removed it and laid it on the counter, and then undid the tourniquet before removing the needle. She picked up a cotton ball and applied pressure firmly on the site for several seconds. A band-aid was next, and then she turned to the equipment to begin the tox screen. Out of the corner of her eye, Scully watched Mulder slide off the stool and put his jacket on. She murmured, "It'll take a little while. I'm going to test you for HIV and Hepatitis B and C while I'm at it, but you should get re- tested again in six weeks." Mulder nodded and replied just as quietly. "Thank-you, Scully." He paused and then said, "I'll go get us some coffee, okay?" Scully, whose hands were already busy, did not look at him but nodded in reply, with a quiet, "Please." Mulder walked away, and Scully looked up from her task to watch his tall form, his shoulders slumping, as he made his way through the lab and out the door. With a heavy sigh, she resumed her task. *** Mulder walked back into the lab sometime later, carrying two cups of coffee, just slightly above lukewarm, but not by much. After leaving Scully to her work, he had wandered down to their office, checking for any messages or e- mails. There had been none, and he had headed up to the vending machine area to get their coffees. He had run into an agent from the VCU seconds after buying the coffee, and had answered the agent's nosy enquiries with vague responses before finally breaking free. He saw Scully look up as he walked toward her, and could not interpret the seriousness of her expression. He came around the counter and placed her coffee on top of it, not wanting to force her to accept it from his hand. Her lips moved in the faintest of smiles, but it did not reach her eyes. Eyes that were tired, wary and...angry? Somehow, Mulder knew he was not going to like what she had to say. She began without preamble, her voice still quiet, but Mulder could hear that anger in her dulcet tones. "Mulder, I was so shocked by what I found that I ran the test again, just to be sure." She stopped, pursing her lips tightly before relaxing them and continuing. "Mulder, what I found...Mulder, you were injected with Sildenafil Citrate and Flunitrazepam." She looked away for a minute, flushing slightly. Mulder frowned. He thought he recognized one of the drugs she had named, Flunitrazepam. He was pretty sure it was Rohypnol, or as it was known on the street, 'roofies'. The date rape drug. The other one he did not know, but it obviously could not be good. He raised an eyebrow in question for Scully to continue. "Flunitrazepam, as you may know, is also known as Rohypnol. What you may not know, is that it is a benzodiazepine, a sedative with ten times the potency of diazepam. Valium, Mulder. Its purpose, probably its sole purpose, is to reduce resistance, although it is also often used by drug addicts to allay their withdrawal symptoms." Scully paused again, looking almost embarrassed. "Sildenafil Citrate, Mulder is Viagra. I am sure you are aware of its purpose." Mulder blinked, and then looked away. Viagra and Rohypnol? A chill went through him. The combination of those two drugs had to have been deliberate, their intent to cause him to attack Scully. The perpetrator, whoever it was, must know him so well, must have known that he would contact Scully at any sign of trouble. And known that having sex with her, to rape her, would be the only result, his only course of action once he saw her. The thought horrified him. Were they nothing more than pawns? And why? His mind whirled. What did this person have to gain? What could he hope for? A chill ran through him suddenly. Had it all been a desperate attempt to separate them? To force Scully into leaving him? They had to know Mulder would do everything in his power to stop that from happening. Mulder stumbled back and fell into the chair Scully had hung her jacket on. He didn't think his legs could support him. Peripherally he was aware of Scully seating herself on the stool he had vacated not so very long ago. He could feel her gaze on him, and he looked up at her, seeing what must be on his own face reflected on hers. "Scully..." he began, but stopped, at a loss for words. "Mulder, we both know what the combination of those two drugs would be likely to result in, which it obviously did. The drugs probably started to take affect not long after you were injected, and when I arrived, you were well under their hold." Scully's voice was quiet, neutral. There was no feeling leaking through, but Mulder could see the emotions dark in her eyes. "Short of knocking you unconscious, or causing you great bodily harm, I don't think I, or anyone else, could have stopped you." She looked away, her lips twisting slightly. "Which we both know I was unable to do." Mulder shifted uncomfortably in the chair, looking away as well. He still could not remember all the details from last night, but bits and pieces had been continually flitting through his head for the last hour.One stuck out now, more than the others, after hearing Scully's words. Her hands on his chest, trying to push him off of her. But her motions had not dislodged him. Rather they had only drawn his attention to her breasts, thrusting forward. He blinked rapidly, shaking his head, and the memory was gone. He brought his mind back to the present, recalling her words of moments ago. It had not surprised him to hear Scully vocalizing his thoughts. They usually traveled along the same wavelength, so attuned to each other as they were. They were often able to communicate without speech. And when they did talk, they sometimes even finished each other's sentences. Scully spoke again, and he brought his gaze back forward, to see her watching him, the compassion back in her eyes. "Mulder, we'll find out soon if your blood is clear, but I cannot stress how important it is to get re-tested in six weeks." "I will, Scully," he replied, grimacing as he thought of the possibility of more grief that could result from the assault on them both. For being injected with drugs was not just an attack on him, but Scully as well. He swallowed, his mouth dry. "Is there anything more we need to do here?" Scully shook her head, and began to tidy up the area she had used. Once done, she moved to the chair where he sat and gestured at her blazer. Mulder got up and lifted it off the back, handing it to her. She took it silently, their hands just brushing, and slid her arms into the sleeves. He watched as she fixed the collar, lifting her hair from beneath it, before picking up the reports she had printed on his blood work. They left the lab, Mulder leading, conscious of Scully close behind him. Scully's Apartment Georgetown, D.C. Mulder watched as Scully lifted her house keys up and unlocked her door, pushing it open. She walked inside, and he followed, hearing the clunk as she dropped the keys on the little table to the left of the door. He closed and locked the door behind him. He saw her look at her answering machine, and that the red light was flashing. Mulder stood impassively, just behind her, and saw her run her hands nervously down the front of her trousers. He knew she was uncomfortable with him being there and that she wanted him to leave. She had not wanted him to come up at all after he had driven them to her apartment building, turning slightly in the passenger seat to thank him for the ride when he pulled up to the curb. He had merely nodded and shut the engine off, getting out of the car at the same time she had. The flash in her eyes had been the only outward sign of her irritation. That and the unnatural stiffness of her body as they walked towards the front entrance. Scully turned to face him, her features blank. But Mulder could see the weariness in her eyes. "Mulder..." she began. "Listen, Scully, I know what you're going to say, but I'm not leaving. We need to talk about what happened last night, and what we discovered today," Mulder interrupted, moving very close to her, but still not touching her in any way. Her eyebrow arched, and she glared at him for a moment, before turning away with a sigh. Her shoulders slumped. "I know," she agreed quietly. Her hand came up to rub at the back of her neck. "I'm just going to change. I'll be back in a few minutes." Mulder nodded and headed toward the couch, taking his jacket off as he did. He could hear the sounds behind him as Scully turned and went down the hallway to her bedroom. He laid the jacket over the back of the couch and then sat down on one end. He rested his head on the cushioned back and took several slow, deep breaths, trying to relax. He and Scully needed to talk, desperately. Not only about what they had discovered had been done to them, as well as their thoughts as to who and why, but about the events of the previous evening, and how they were going to get past it. And they were going to get past it. They had to. Mulder knew his life would have no meaning if Scully were not a part of it. His stomach rumbled then, and he was surprised he had an appetite at all, until he realized he had not eaten since lunch the day before. He wondered if Scully had eaten since then either. He glanced at his watch; it was past noon. He wondered if he should order a pizza. He should probably check with Scully first. He stood and stretched before making his way down the hall to her bedroom. As he neared, he could see the door had not closed all the way, it was open a crack. He could also hear her crying. Mulder hesitated just before the door, hand poised to knock. His first instinct was to flee. Scully did not cry easily, and the fact that she was now scared him. He did not know if he could face learning what he had done to her, but he knew he had to. He also wondered if he should intrude. Besides not crying easily, Scully did not like to lose control in front of others, even him. His hand relaxed from its fist and hovered uncertainly in the air over the door. His head lowered, forehead just brushing the wood. "Scully," he whispered. Taking a deep breath, Mulder lowered his hand to the wood and pushed. The door opened easily, with the slightest of creaks, and he stepped inside. Scully's back was to the door, but she whirled around at the sound of his footstep on the hardwood floor. The robe she was wearing gaped at the front, and her hands, which must have been tying the sash closed, flew up to grab the lapels and tug them together. But not before Mulder saw the red mark marring the flesh of her upper breast. The blood drained from his face and a small moan escaped his lips. "Scully?" he choked out, and moved forward, his steps wooden and awkward. He came to a stop just in front of her, and although she stiffened, she did not move away. Did she sense he needed to see, needed to know what he had done to her? He held her gaze with his for long moments, before she looked away to the left, and watched her lips release a sobbing breath, felt the exhalation warm against his upper arm. Her hands left the lapels of the robe, fisting down at her sides, tacit approval for him to look. Mulder's hands shook as he brought them up to her robe. He parted the material gently, careful not to touch her skin. Standing this close to her, he could smell her Scully smell, and he closed his eyes briefly as the fragrance teased his senses. When he opened them again, he could see her pulse fluttering erratically at her throat, and knew that she was probably fighting the impulse to flee. He forced his gaze to her chest, to the swell of flesh above her white cotton bra, trying not to admire the smooth, creaminess of her skin. He steeled himself to study the wound as objectively as he could. He knew he failed miserably, when his breath hissed out and Scully flinched. He could not help it. He blinked again, but the image remained. When he had caught a glimpse of the mark as Scully turned around, he had thought it was a hickey, or a burn maybe, from his stubble. It was not. It was a bite mark, a perfect imprint of teeth. His teeth. He could see that he had broken the surface, and that the flesh surrounding the wound was red and a little inflamed. One hand clenched in the material of her robe, the other let go, and shakily lifted to the mark. His index finger just grazed it, running over it with a touch that was feather- light. Scully jumped at the touch and he pulled his hand away quickly. He could see her chest rising and falling rapidly; hear her breaths loud in his ears. "I am so sorry, Scully," he whispered. His voice sounded odd, thick. His breath hitched then and he felt the tears welling in his eyes. He dropped to his knees in front of her, burying his face in her stomach, arms coming up to hug her tightly. Her body was stiff, and as his arms went around her, she made a small sound...of alarm? He loosened his grip slightly, but did not release her. He could not. The first sobs wracked his body, and he cried into her stomach. Suddenly Scully pulled her hands up and away from her body where they had been trapped by his embrace. He could feel her body trembling, and then her hands were on his head, stroking through his hair. Her touch was like a benediction. *** Scully walked down the hall to her bedroom, hand coming up to cover her mouth as she yawned, her other hand still rubbing her neck. The adrenaline had surged after they had found the injection site on Mulder's arm and gone to the Hoover building, but now she was so tired. And her body hurt, in places she didn't want to think about. She was nervous, too. She knew they needed to talk, but was not really ready to face it. She did not want to break down in front of Mulder, to lose control and become a weak mass of crying female. Her emotions were right at the surface, and it would not take much to break them loose. Scully stepped into her bedroom, swinging the door shut behind her. She crossed over to her bed and stood beside it, shrugging out of her blazer and laying it on the end. She stood there for a moment and then toed off her shoes and undid the button and zipper of her pants, pushing them down over her hips. Her mock turtleneck was next, and as she stood there in her bra and panties, she shivered with a slight chill. She grabbed her robe and when she lifted her arm to put it into the sleeve, she saw the bite mark on her chest. Tears sprang to her eyes, burning hot. Her breath hitched and then she was crying, her body shaking with the effort to hold her sobs in. She hurriedly pulled the robe the rest of the way on, wrapping it around her body, hands tying the sash. She was going to lie down and smother her tears in her pillow, fully conscious Mulder was just down the hall, and that there was nothing wrong with his hearing. A sound reached her ears, a footstep on the floorboards. She whirled, hands still on the sash of the robe, to see Mulder standing there. She realized her robe had gaped open, feeling the cool air on her chest, and watching Mulder's eyes drop there. Her hands whipped up to pull it closed again. Her sobs had stopped with her surprise, and she could feel the tears drying on her cheeks, although her breath was still coming in pants. Mulder paled, and then he moaned. She heard him whisper her name, and then he was moving towards her, his movements choppy. He stopped in front of her, and she stiffened. His eyes held hers for many moments, before she looked away, one last sob escaping. She knew he had seen the mark on her breast, and what he wanted to do. Her hands left the lapels of her robe and she moved them to hang straight at her sides. She held herself still as his hands came up shakily to grasp the edges of her robe and pull it open. He stared for the longest time, making her nervous, when he exhaled with a hiss suddenly. She flinched in surprise, but managed to hold herself still. His eyes remained focused on the mark, and she felt one of his hands fist in her robe, the other coming up. The touch of his finger on it was so light, so gentle, and goose bumps rose on her skin. She jumped slightly, her breath coming faster. She remembered his hands on her body the night before, and marveled at the difference, from rough misuse to tender reverence. Mulder whispered, "I am so sorry, Scully," and then he was on his knees, hugging her tightly, his face in her stomach. She felt his body shake with sobs and wanted only to comfort him. She lifted her arms free from his embrace and brought them to his head. She stroked his hair, enjoying the feel of the silky softness sifting through her fingers. Mulder nuzzled into her stomach, and the action sent a nearly overwhelming wave of love through her. Her knees buckled and Mulder's grip on her loosened, allowing her to fall to her knees before him, their bodies almost touching. Mulder's hands came up to frame her face and her own hands hovered before fluttering to land on his wrists. They stared into each other's eyes, endlessly. Scully saw love, and sorrow, and trust in his hazel depths, and let her own same emotions pour forth. A tremulous smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and she answered it with a smile of her own, feeling one lone tear roll down her cheek. Mulder's thumb moved and brushed it delicately away, before his lips slowly descended to trace the tear's path. He whispered her name, and the sound, uttered so close to her ear, sent shivers down her spine, and she squirmed slightly. Her head had been tilting to allow him better access to her neck, wanting to feel his warm lips there. Her eyes had drifted shut, her body unconsciously leaning towards his. She almost fell forward when Mulder leapt to his feet. She opened her eyes to see him backing away, a look of distress on his face. He whispered, "I'm sorry," and turned and walked out of her bedroom. Scully realized with sudden clarity that Mulder had mistaken her movement as being one of fear, not pleasure. She scrambled to her feet, barely avoiding tripping over the hem of her robe, to run after him. That little voice in her head was sarcastic. Must you always chase after this man? Her answer was succinct. Yes. *** Mulder strode down Scully's hallway, his fists clenched, cursing himself under his breath. He had to get out, he could not bear to see her face again, not after all he had done to her. When she had sank to her knees with him, he had been so overjoyed, believing she had forgiven him totally, he had not been able to resist trailing his lips over the softness of her cheek. But she had squirmed. He did not know if she had suffered a flashback, or if she could no longer stand his touch. He could not, would not, risk inflicting more emotional pain on her. No matter how much his heart was breaking. "Mulder, wait!" Scully's voice, calling him. He stopped, turning uncertainly, to see her walking towards him, her hand outstretched. To push him away? Or to stop him from leaving? He hoped, with everything within him, that it was to stop him from leaving. He ducked his head down, hiding the emotion he knew was plain on his face. He saw her feet as she stopped beside him, the outstretched hand reaching out to grasp one of his, her fingers cool. She squeezed it, until he looked up, to see her chin lifting so that she could stare into his eyes. "Mulder, I wasn't scared when you touched me." Her cheeks flushed, and she broke the stare, looking over his shoulder to stare at the wall. Mulder had to lean forward to catch her next words because her voice was so low. "It felt good, Mulder. I was shivering because I enjoyed your touch." Mulder knew his mouth was gaping open. He stared at her, unblinking, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She met his eyes again, and a small smile crossed her lips. It took a minute for it all to sink in, but when it did, he smiled back, his eyes full of hope. Her words bridged the chasm in his soul. "Scully," he said. He stepped forward just as she did, and then his arms were around her, and they were holding each other tight. "It will take time, Mulder," she said into his chest. "But we will make it." He buried his face in her hair, nodding his head. "I know we will, Scully." Long, quiet moments, in each other's arms. At peace. Her whispered voice came again. "Mulder, I have too tell you this." She pausedand then continued, "Last night, Mulder...last night, I wasn't...afraid at first. When you held me against you, and I felt your arousal... I was aroused too. It was exciting, Mulder, to know I could do that to you. " He heard her swallow, and she rubbed her face into his chest in her embarrassment. "And when you kissed me, I nearly lost the ability to think." Pleasure warred with guilt. To hear Scully saying that she had been aroused, what his kiss did to her, was an amazing thing. It was a balm for his heart. His arms tightened briefly in reaction, and he felt hers stroking up and down his back in long, soothing gestures. Mulder felt he could have stood there forever, holding her, but they still had to talk. He eased back reluctantly, his hands moving to her shoulders, and smiled gently at her. One hand left her shoulder to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she briefly snuggled her cheek into his hand. "Go get changed, Scully," he said softly. "I'll make some coffee, see if I can put together some lunch." Scully scrunched her face up in a totally adorable way, shaking her head quickly. "Stick to the coffee, Mulder. I'll make us some lunch after I change." Mulder stood there and watched Scully walk back to her bedroom. He could see her shoulders were straight, her head high. Gone was the slouching, frightened woman of earlier. He smiled faintly to himself, immensely cheered, his whole spirit lightened. And he also could not help but admire the graceful sway of her hips, and the way the terry cloth of her robe molded to her rear end. Or think of putting his hands on that same flesh without the robe... With a flash of guilt he shook his head at the direction his thoughts had taken, and turned and headed to Scully's kitchen. He moved about comfortably, getting the promised coffee ready, retrieving her favorite blend from the freezer, and starting it up. He leaned against the counter to wait, staring unseeing across the room. In between self-recrimination and more feelings of guilt, tremendous guilt, he had been re-playing the incident at the elevator over and over for the last few hours. It ran through yet again and his mind made one of its sudden, intuitive leaps. He spat out, "Krycek!" just as Scully walked into the kitchen. Scully was no slouch in that department. She understood immediately his memory had prompted his outburst. The merest quirk of her eyebrow was her only reaction, followed by a muttered, "Bastard." She stopped and stood in the center of the kitchen, her hands on her hips. Her lips pursed for a moment before she exclaimed, "Jesus, Mulder. Why?" Her tone was indignant, her cheeks flushing with anger. "Why would he hurt you, hurt us this way?" Mulder shook his head, straightening from his slouch to get down cups for the coffee. He needed to keep his hands busy. As disturbed and angry as he was by the knowledge that Krycek had been behind this obscene plot, he was also finding the sight of Scully in all her furious glory rather...exciting. He wondered if there was something wrong with himself. He should be more concerned about what he had remembered. He was concerned, but somehow the news Scully had related moments ago was much more important, more life impacting, and also incredibly arousing. He couldn't seem to stop thinking about Scully, in a sexual way. He knew though, that she did not need to hear that, not now. He cleared his throat, focusing his attention on the subject at hand. Krycek. "Scully, I can only guess that Krycek, and whomever he was working for, if he was working for someone, wanted to separate us. That he believed my actions would cause you to leave. To what purpose, I have no idea." His voice was contemplative. "He, or they, never realized I would never let that happen." Scully shot him a look, and he quickly added, "*We* would never let that happen." He paused, still not looking at her. "Scully, you have to know I would never willingly hurt you. I would sooner eat my gun then cause you pain." He heard her sharp inhalation, and it was several seconds before she replied. Her voice was odd, it sounded tight, as if she were fighting tears. "Mulder, God, I know that. This was not your fault. You had no control over what was done to you. To us." She sniffled a little bit. "I will heal physically, Mulder. And together, we will heal emotionally." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Scully heave out a deep breath before she went to the fridge and pulled it open. She joined him at the counter and began to make sandwiches. They worked in silence until their lunch had been prepared. They each carried a plate and a mug of coffee and went into the living room to sit on the couch to eat. *** Scully quickly slipped into a pair of jeans and a sweater. She hesitated briefly as she pulled the sweater on, thinking about her bruises. Mulder had already seen them, she had practically bared her soul to him, and it would be silly to hide them now. She glanced in her dresser mirror and then flicked her hands through her hair before heading to the kitchen. Her steps were light and a faint grumble came from her stomach. She realized she was actually hungry. As she neared the kitchen, the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewing coffee intensified the feeling. She walked in to see Mulder slouching against the counter. His gaze was blank as he stared across the room, and suddenly he said, "Krycek!" Her mind processed the name and immediately flashed back to the man at Mulder's elevator. Although the news was disturbing, somehow it did not surprise her at all. Krycek's loyalties and motives had always been a mystery, one they had never been able to solve. She quirked an eyebrow slightly at Mulder and said, "Bastard." There was no heat in her voice, it was merely a statement of fact. The anger flared however as she thought further, as she pictured him bumping into Mulder, deliberately injecting him with a combination of drugs he had known or hoped would result in something terrible. Her cheeks flushed as she stood there with her hands on her hips. "Jesus, Mulder, why? Why would he hurt you, hurt us this way?" she exclaimed, her voice rising slightly with her indignation. She stared as Mulder rose from his position against the counter and turned to get some mugs down from one of the cupboards. She listened to his theory about Krycek, his voice low and controlled, contemplative, about trying to separate them. He said he would never let that happen, and at his use of the word 'I', she shot him a look. He quickly amended it to 'we'. His next words sent shock resounding through her system. The thought of Mulder dead, by his own hands, was almost more than she could bear. She fought back tears, her voice sounding thick to her ears as she replied. She had to reassure him that she knew it was not his fault, and as she spoke the words, "we will heal emotionally," she knew that it was true. They gave each other strength, and together they would help each other through it. Scully took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to calm herself before joining Mulder at the counter to make them some sandwiches. Mulder poured them both a steaming cup of coffee, fixing hers exactly how she liked it, and she arranged the sandwiches on two plates. They each carried a plate and a mug and went into the living room to eat. Scully sat on the sofa, Mulder plopping down beside her, their thighs not quite touching. The coffee was perfect. She closed her eyes briefly as the caffeine first hit her system, smiling faintly. Beside her, Mulder dug into the first of his sandwiches with enthusiasm. He turned his head to her, swallowing heavily. "I'm going to talk to the Gunmen about Krycek, have them start a search. I know we've gone this route before, but maybe they can turn something up." Scully nodded, her own mouth full. The Gunmen were often able to find information that she and Mulder, with their Bureau resources, could not. Maybe they would get lucky and actually find the rat bastard. It was possible he had remained nearby, to witness the results of his...experiment, for lack of a better word. The thought twisted her stomach, and she put her half-eaten sandwich back on her plate, her appetite suddenly diminished. "Mulder, do you think he's watching us?" She looked as Mulder eyed his second sandwich, which was nearly gone, and then returned the remainder to his own plate. He scrubbed one hand over his mouth before replying, "It's a good possibility, Scully. But we've been watched before. Hell, we're probably always watched. We just can't let it get to us. Easier said then done, I know, but we really have no choice." His mouth quirked sideways as he looked at her, his shoulders rising in a semi-shrug. He was right. There was nothing they could do, and worrying about it would only make it worse. She sighed, and then took another mouthful of coffee. She held the mug cradled in her hands, and said, "You're right, Mulder, but it just makes me so angry. And scared." "I know, Scully. It scares me too," Mulder said. He picked up his coffee and took a swallow before continuing. "I think we should tell Skinner, too." He looked back at her, and she could hear the shame and sorrow in his next words. "Not everything, but enough, so that he is aware of what happened, and that Krycek may be in the area." Scully nodded slowly, trying to imagine Skinner's reaction when they related their watered down version of the events of the previous evening. The AD was an intelligent man, he would know they had not told him everything. She knew he was also an honorable man and would not press for further details, trusting them to relate those that were pertinent. She stood and picked up her plate and mug, and headed to the kitchen. She could hear Mulder behind her, following suit. She put the dishes in the sink, taking his from him as well, not meeting his eyes. She fiddled with the dishes, feeling nervous and awkward and tired all of a sudden. There was not much else they could say on the subject of Krycek, nor did she really want to discuss the heinous bastard, and although she knew they were not finished talking about what had happened, she just wanted to put it out of her mind for a while. Mulder thankfully seemed to read her like a book. "Hey, Scully, you going to be okay? I'm going to go see the Gunmen, get them looking for Krycek. You look really tired, why don't you lie down?" He shifted on his feet and then continued more softly, "Do you want me to check on you later?" Scully turned to face him finally, a small smile on her face. His concern plucked at that string on her heart. "I'll be fine, Mulder." His eyes smiled at her and he lifted one hand slowly to tuck that same strand of hair behind her ear again. "I really don't want to leave," he said. "But I know you need some time to yourself." He stopped and stared at her, leaning slightly towards her but coming no further, and she knew he wanted to kiss her, but was afraid to take that last step. So she took it for him. She stepped closer to him, scant inches separating their bodies, and lifted her chin, angling her head to the side. He smiled again and lowered his head to hers. His lips grazed hers gently before sliding to press firmly against her cheek. They both stepped back at the same time, and Scully could feel the silly grin on her face, a grin that mirrored the one on his. Mulder turned and left the kitchen, and she followed behind him. He opened the door and stepped out, and Scully rested her hand on the doorknob. "Mulder, call me tonight, okay?" she said, and he grinned more widely, nodding. She watched until he got on the elevator, and then slowly closed and locked her door. End Part 3 of 4 Alarming Behavior (Part 4 of 4) by Lovesfox Six Weeks Later Scully's Apartment Georgetown, D.C. Scully glanced at the clock on the stove as she stirred the spaghetti sauce once again. The sauce was bubbling nicely, and its aroma filled the kitchen and teased her taste buds. The thick, crusty bread was waiting in its paper wrapper on the breadboard to be cut, and the package of pasta sat on the counter beside the empty pot on the other burner. She had already set the table, and she gave it a critical once over for the third time. She wondered if the candle in the center was too much, but liked the squat, three-wick pillar too much to move it. Mulder would be here in just under an hour, and she still wanted to have a quick shower before she had to get dressed. She turned the burner down a little and put the lid on the pot of sauce before wiping her hands on the tea towel resting on her shoulder. She folded the towel neatly and placed it on the counter, and then headed to her bedroom to get undressed. The drugstore bag was the first thing she saw when she entered the room. It still sat on her bed where she had dropped it when she got home from her shopping. She walked over and emptied its contents onto her comforter. The toiletries needed to go into her bathroom cabinet and the last item, she picked up and stared at for a moment. She blushed lightly and with a loud exhalation, tucked it into her night table. She stripped out of her clothes and slipped into her silk robe, luxuriating in the feel of the cool material sliding over her body. She tied the sash and then scooped the clothes off the floor and walked over to the hamper. She dumped them inside before retrieving the items from her bed and moving into the bathroom. She put everything away and as she turned the taps on to start her shower, she thought longingly of a long, hot, bubble bath, but knew she did not have time. The steam rapidly filled the room as she stepped inside. She sighed with contentment as the hot water pounded down on her head and back, and she rolled her head from side to side to let the water work at her neck. She found the shower also helped to calm her nerves. She could not believe how nervous she was about Mulder coming to dinner. It probably had something to do with the plans she had for after the dinner, but she was actually nervous about everything. She had debated for two days about what to cook, and had spent almost half an hour earlier that morning picking her outfit. She shook her head as she reached for the bottle of shampoo; she was acting like a teenager going on her first date. It was silly, really, she mused to herself, working the lather into her hair. Mulder had eaten dinner here many times, just as she had eaten at his place. Take-out to be sure, but she had eaten there more times than she could count. They had also often spent some of their off time together, before 'that night', and even more so in the last six weeks. She hated the fact that she still thought of the night Mulder had raped her in such distinct terms, but knew it would take time for her to let it go. She had been seeing a therapist for a few weeks now, and was finding it easier to talk about the rape without freezing up or crying. She smiled to herself, her face directly in the water flow, pleased that she had used the word rape with no difficulty, even if it was in her own mind. The frequency of her nightmares and flashbacks was also lessening, for which she was very grateful. They had been difficult to hide from Mulder, and they pained him as much as they did her. Mulder. She smiled again as she thought of him, lathering soap over her body. Their relationship had taken a different turn after the rape; another smile, that was twice she had said it. They had become much more open with each other since spending so much time together. They had also got physically closer as well. Mulder now seemed to find excuses to touch her all the time. Holding her elbow as they walked, fingers glancing over hers as he reached for something. His favorite thing lately though was touching her hair. He would tuck an errant strand behind her ear even before she would think to do it herself, or merely stroke his hand through its thickness when they said goodnight, and sometimes when he was close, he would nuzzle his nose into it and inhale deeply with a pleased hum. The best thing was that she was not uncomfortable with any of it, in fact, had come to depend on their closeness and contact. It was another reason why she had decided that tonight was the night she would take the next step. She had talked with her therapist at great length about her needs and wants, and whether she was ready to further their relationship, to the point where it would be difficult to turn back. She was. They were. She also believed that being physically intimate with Mulder, sharing her love fully and completely, would further erase the emotional and mental scars of the rape for both of them. She rinsed her hair and body one last time before turning the water off. After squeezing the excess moisture from her hair, she reached for the big, fluffy towel on the rack and wrapped it around her body before stepping out onto the bath mat. She went through her usual routine, taking special care to smooth body lotion over her skin, and then slipped back into her robe. She scrubbed a hand towel over the mirror to clear away the steam, and then picking up her brush, ran it through the wet strands of her hair. Padding barefoot to her bedroom, she went to her lingerie drawer and began to study its contents. She had always had a secret passion for silks and satins, and loved the feel of them under her FBI attire. She picked out a matching set in dark blue silk and carried them over to the bed. Shedding her robe, she slipped the panties on, and was just about to put on the bra when an impulse, and she could only label it a naughty one, had her deciding to forego the bra completely. Why, Agent Scully, you hussy, she thought and flushed a little. It was naughty, and sexy as well, and she hoped it knocked Mulder's socks off. With that, she moved over to her closet, to where the outfit she had finally decided on was hanging on a hook. She pulled the ice blue silk blouse off its hanger and putting it on, deftly did up the buttons. The material was cool, and she felt her nipples pucker in reaction as it slid across them. She almost changed her mind and started to unbutton the blouse to put the bra on after all, but a vision of Mulder unbuttoning the blouse himself and finding her naked beneath had her smoothing the silk down and reaching for the silk lounging pants hanging there and pulling them on. She headed back to the bathroom and after blow-drying her hair, expertly and lightly applied her make-up. A touch of perfume on the pulse at her throat and on her wrists and she was ready. She needed to check on the sauce and get the water for the pasta started, Mulder would be arriving soon. Moments after she filled the second pot with water and added a touch of oil and put it on the burner, she heard a knock at her door. Mulder's knock. She inhaled deeply and walked to the door, pausing briefly before she opened it to smooth the invisible wrinkles out of her blouse. She went up on tiptoe and peeked through the spy hole, seeing Mulder standing there, staring with a quirky smile at the closed door. Scully unlocked and opened the door, her smile shy as she looked at Mulder. He was dressed casually, as she had instructed yesterday with her invitation, in faded jeans, a button-down plaid shirt and his black leather jacket. The smell of his cologne, mixed with leather and Mulder himself had her nostrils flaring briefly in reaction, and sent a surge of awareness through her body. Awareness of the healthy, virile male standing next to her. Mulder was suddenly thrusting a bouquet of flowers in her direction, he must have kept them hidden behind his back. She had been so busy staring at him, she hadn't even noticed. She gawked at them, a mixture of carnations and baby roses, and reached out hesitantly to take them from his hand with a shyly whispered, "Thank-you, Mulder." They were so romantic, so sweet, and so totally unexpected from Mulder, she almost melted right where she stood. She regained her composure after watching Mulder's eyes skim up and down her body before dropping to her chest and widen with interest and desire. "I need to put these in water," she said. "Make yourself comfortable." She turned and headed towards the kitchen, fully aware of Mulder's hot gaze on her retreating backside. Her purely feminine smile was hidden as she walked away. *** Mulder strode down the hallway of Scully's apartment building, a bouquet of flowers clenched tightly in one hand. He didn't know what had come over him. He had been driving through the city, and stopped at a red light. There had been a flower shop on the corner just after the light, and he had stared at the display window, thinking, until loud honking had pulled him out of his trance to see the light was now green. He had waved at the impatient driver behind him and pulled forward, moving to the curb, leaving his four way flashers on to run inside and buy Scully some flowers. He had almost thrown them out the car window twice. Would she like them? Would she think he was a fool for bringing her flowers? He felt like a teenager trying to impress his date. He hoped like hell Scully would be impressed. Flattered even. Maybe she would even kiss him. Oh, jeez, he was sounding pathetic. He knew he should have just tossed them. It was too late. He was at her doorway. He knocked, and remembered to hide the bouquet behind his back. He stared at the spy hole, waiting for Scully to open the door. He sensed her there on the other side, looking at him, and smiled nervously. The door opened then, and he stepped inside, seeing Scully smile at him. He didn't know what to do first, so he thrust the flowers at her. Her eyes widened at the bouquet, and then they went soft, and he knew that she was pleased. Her reaction lightened his heart. Her hand came out to take them from him, and she whispered, "Thank-you, Mulder." He saw then that she was dressed far differently then he had ever seen her, in an ice-blue silk blouse that complimented her eyes and silky pants that reminded him of pajama bottoms. His observant eyes noticed something else. Scully wasn't wearing a bra. Breathe, he told himself. Inhale, exhale. That one glimpse of her nipples poking at the material of her blouse nearly did him in. She turned and walked towards the kitchen, and he stared at her ass as she retreated, his jeans now uncomfortably tight. He knew she had said something to him, but her words barely registered. Water? Comfortable? It took a minute, but he finally realized he was just standing there in front of the door. He moved into the room and slid off his jacket, laying it over the back of the couch. He was not quite able to sit yet so he meandered around her living room, taking deep, even breaths. From the kitchen came the sounds of running water, and cupboards banging, followed by the pop of a cork. Scully came out not long after, carrying a glass of what looked like wine, which she brought over to him.She held it out to him, and he saw that her hand shook slightly. Was Scully as nervous as he? She had looked so self-assured, so relaxed, and so damn...sexy, when she opened the door, he could not imagine thaat she would feel as he did. Somehow it made him feel just a little bit better. And a little bit cocky. He took the wine glass with a smile, making sure to meet and hold her eyes, drawling, "Thank-you, Scully." Her cheeks flushed a little, and his smile widened. She was nervous. He held her gaze a little bit longer, watching her blush deepen, before finally turning his head to the side to take a sip of the wine, watching her from the corner of his eye. "Uh...I need to check on the sauce," Scully said, her voice slightly higher than normal. She stood there for a few more seconds, staring at him as he took another swallow of wine, before blinking slowly and finally heading back to the kitchen. Mulder smiled again. Scully was flustered. And unless he missed his guess, a little bit aroused too. It certainly wasn't that cold in the apartment. The thought sent a dart of arousal through his body. Down, boy, he told himself. He put the wineglass down on the coffee table and went over to the armoire that housed her stereo system. He opened the wooden doors and turned the stereo on. The CD light was on, so he pressed play, curious to hear what she had been listening to. The song began, the drum beat slow and easy. He didn't recognize it at first, and reached for the CD case resting on top of the stereo. Savage Garden. He found himself swaying slightly to the music, and closed his eyes to listen better. "I will be strong I will be faithful 'cause I'm counting on A new beginning A reason for living A deeper meaning..." The words reached deep inside. His heart began to thud. He did not know if Scully had been playing it deliberately, or if it was just a coincidence, but the words spoke so truly about their situation. Could making love with each other erase the horrible memories of the rape? He hoped so. He and Scully had gotten so much closer in the last month or so, spending much of their personal time together. He had made the first move a few weeks ago, kissing her good night after they had seen a movie. At first, she had been hesitant, shy. He had kept their kisses light, unthreatening. He was careful to follow her lead, to watch for any sign that she was scared or uncomfortable. Gradually they had progressed to more body contact, light caresses. They had recently participated in some very heavy make-out sessions on both their couches. Was she ready to take the next step? Was he? Yes. His palms felt sweaty, and he was suddenly very warm. He turned the volume on the stereo up a little and went over to the coffee table to pick up his wine. He took a large mouthful, feeling the wine cool and tart on his tongue, and then with a deep breath, went into the kitchen. *** Scully saw that the water was boiling nicely when she returned to the kitchen, so she dumped the spaghetti into the pot. She then found a vase for the flowers and ran the water to fill it up before arranging them neatly inside. She put the vase on the table beside the candle and admired their simple beauty again. Mulder had certainly floored her by bringing flowers, and he had looked so adorably nervous as he gave them to her. He had reminded her of a teenage boy on his first date, just as she had felt like a girl getting ready for one. Until she had seen the desire flare in his eyes. Then she had felt like a woman. A woman who wanted her man. Scully blushed, and pressed her palms briefly to her hot cheeks before taking a deep breath and retrieving the wine she had bought earlier. She rummaged in the cupboards until she found the pretty crystal goblets her mother had given her years ago. She opened the wine and poured each glass full, lifting hers to take a calming sip. When she felt more in control, she put her glass back on the counter and picked up Mulder's, heading to the living room to bring it to him. He was meandering around the room but stopped as she approached him. When he accepted the glass from her, he stared into her eyes for long moments. She felt her cheeks go hot again, and inwardly cursed her pale Irish complexion. She stared in fascination as the muscles in his jaw worked as he took a sip, at how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. She wanted to press her lips to it, to trace it with her tongue. She noticed then that Mulder was watching her, and he seemed...amused, almost. She blushed again and stammered some excuse about needing to check the sauce. She nearly ran back to the kitchen. Dana, what is wrong with you? she asked herself. She shook her head slightly. My God, she was nervous. She knew she did not need to be, this was Mulder. Her best friend, her confidante, and if she didn't lose her nerve tonight, her lover as well. She also knew Mulder would never voluntarily hurt her, and that if she were to start something she was not able to finish, he would be there for her, with her. She would be lying to herself if she did not admit she had wondered what it would be like to make love with Mulder, before the rape, and even more so in the last few weeks. His looks were definitely a major attraction, but it was more than that. His intelligence, his dedication, his passion. His intensity, and yes, even his sense of humor. His caring and concern for her. He was the center of her universe. Realizing she was just standing in the middle of the kitchen having an internal debate with herself, she shook her head and stepped over to the counter to start slicing the bread. Her movements were quick and efficient, and within minutes she was arranging the bread in a linen napkin draped basket, which she placed on the table. She turned back to the stove when music from the other room caught her attention. Mulder had turned her stereo on. She listened as the first strands of Savage Garden's "Truly, Madly, Deeply" began to play. She had popped their CD on a few nights ago while relaxing on the couch, and had forgotten it was still in the player. She wondered what Mulder was thinking as he listened to it. It was a very pretty song, and she always thought of him when she heard it. She heard the stanza about a new beginning, and thought, tonight will be our new beginning. She checked the sauce, and seeing it was ready, turned the burner off, giving it a quick stir. The pasta, which she had thrown in the boiling water before she poured the wine, was done as well. She lifted the heavy pot and emptied the pasta into the strainer in the sink, leaning her head back slightly as the steam rose in a great whoosh. As it drained, she stepped over to the doorway and poked her head out, spying Mulder reclining on her couch in his sock feet, his eyes closed. "Mulder," she called. "Dinner's just about ready." She turned around and went back to the counter, reaching up in the cupboard to get the plates down. The first awareness she had that Mulder was in the room was when she smelled his cologne. Instead of sitting at the table, he moved to stand close behind her. She could feel the heat of his body, and then his hands were stroking up and down her arms, from her shoulders to her wrists. "Aren't you hungry?" she asked, hearing the tremor in her voice. A tremor from excitement and desire. "Not for dinner," was his husky response, whispered near her ear. It sent shivers up and down her spine. His hands spun her gently until she was facing him and as she met his eyes, the intensity in the hazel depths had her heart thumping madly. She watched, her own eyes widening, and then drifting shut, as his head lowered slowly towards hers. Her hands fluttered before coming to rest on his chest. And then his lips were covering hers. Warm and firm, exerting just the slightest of pressure. She felt pleasure, clear down to her toes, and her mouth opened, allowing his tongue to swoop inside, deepening the kiss. His hands left her shoulders to slide down her back, pulling her tightly into his body, her own arms moving to wrap around his neck, the fingers of one hand curling in the hairs at the nape of his neck. She could feel his hard strength everywhere, her chest, her belly, her thighs, and she thrilled at the contact. Long, delirious moments wrapped in his arms, in his kiss. He dragged his lips away from hers, pulling back slightly, and she moaned at the loss, her eyes coming open to see him looking at her. "Is this okay, Scully?" he said, and she could hear the desire, the need, in his voice. She nodded, smiling tremulously, and then Mulder was sweeping her up in his arms. She gasped at the sensation, tightening her arms around his neck, and he started for her bedroom. If someone had asked her before this moment, she would have answered that it was an antiquated gesture that belittled a woman's strength. But now, all she could do was relish his strength as he carried her with ease. Mulder was so careful as he carried her, as if she were the most precious of cargo. He turned sideways to ease through her bedroom door, so that no part of her touched the frame at all. He paused beside her bed and Scully felt the muscles in his arms flex, before he slowly loosened his grip on the one beneath her legs. Her body slid along his, and she thrilled at the contact, until she was standing in his embrace. His hands came up to frame her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones, and he stared deep into her eyes. "Are you sure, Scully?" he asked in that husky voice that did wonderful things to her insides. Scully met his eyes without fear, hoping he could see her desire. She nodded and said, "Make love with me, Mulder." He smiled then, a boyishly happy smile, and she smiled in return. His eyes traced the features of her face lovingly before his face turned serious, intent. His hands drifted slowly down her face, one thumb brushing over her lips, which parted at the contact, before he was once again lifting her in his arms. He stepped closer to the bed, one knee coming up on the mattress to brace his weight, until he had deposited her gently in the middle. He settled himself on his side next to her, coming up on his elbow to stare down into her face. Scully could feel her heart pounding, and her limbs felt heavy, weighted. With desire. She reached up her hand to stroke his cheek, and he turned his face to press a kiss into her palm before his hand came up to grasp hers. He laced their fingers together, brushing his lips over her knuckles, and then moved her hand to rest up alongside her head. He pulled his hand free and stroked it through her hair as his face descended to hers. She lifted her chin slightly to meet his lips, but he merely grazed her mouth, trailing up her cheek to her eyebrow. He brushed a kiss there, and her eyes fluttered shut. He did the same to her other eyebrow, and then left light butterfly kisses on both eyelids, on her nose, her other cheek, before trailing down past her mouth again to kiss along her jaw line. Scully shifted restlessly, the kisses were just this side of ticklish. She felt him smile against her neck, and then his mouth was nibbling at her neck and throat. He mumbled, "Mmmmm...", the sound reverberating against her skin, and followed the path to her ear. His tongue traced the shell before his teeth nipped her earlobe. To ease the sting, he soothed the lobe by suckling briefly. Finally, he brought his lips to hers, pressing firmly. Her mouth opened immediately, hungry for his kiss, and his tongue darted inside to duel with hers. Scully shifted again, moaning questioningly into Mulder's mouth. He slanted his head to deepen the kiss, and Scully felt one of his hands skimming along her collarbone and up the arm that lay beside her head. He curled his hand briefly around hers, squeezing once before sliding it back down. His nimble fingers began to unbutton her blouse. He undid each one slowly and deliberately and then parted her blouse. He pulled from the kiss, lifting his head to study the flesh he had bared. Scully felt her nipples tighten more than she thought possible with the heat of his stare. "Scully," he whispered. "You are so beautiful." His hand hovered in the air for a moment as he watched her face for her reaction, before lowering to cup her breast. Scully moaned again, thrusting her chest forward, encouraging him to increase the pressure. His touch remained gentle, light. "Mulder." Her voice was husky, and just the tiniest bit embarrassed, almost feeling the urge to beg. "Mulder, you don't have to treat me like glass. I won't break. Touch me, Mulder." He obliged, squeezing her more firmly, before his thumb rubbed over her nipple, back and forth. Pleasure shot through her, and heat pooled between her legs. "Mulder, please," she groaned. She could not control the restless movements of her body, her chest thrust forward again, and her head moved from side to side on the bed. He took the hint, rolling the nipple between his index finger and thumb. "Do you like this, Scully?" he asked, and his voice was like smoke. She could only nod in response, too lost in sensation. He continued his ministrations with that nipple for a moment, before trailing his fingers across to her other breast, to tease its peak as well. Scully wanted to touch Mulder as much as she wanted his touch. She shifted so that she could put her hands on his chest. She could feel the heat of his body through his shirt, and it made her want his bare skin. Her fingers fumbled awkwardly at his shirt buttons and his hand left her breast so that he could sit up. He made quick work of the buttons, and she sat up slightly to help him pull his shirt off. She had seen Mulder's bare chest more times than she could count, but for the most part he had been injured or sick, and she had never really had the opportunity to study it, to admire it. And admire it she did. He was finely muscled, with a light sprinkling of hair that arrowed down into the waistband of his jeans. She wanted to follow its path with her tongue. She brought one hand up to touch a flat, brown nipple, and it immediately pebbled into hardness. Mulder inhaled sharply, and smiling slightly, she leaned forward to touch her tongue to it. He groaned her name then, and emboldened, she sucked it into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue. She used her other arm to push at his shoulder until he fell back onto the pillow. She shifted, sliding one leg across his. She lathed the nipple with her tongue, before running the point of her tongue across his flesh to the other nipple. She showered it with affection as well, as he had done with her moments ago. Mulder brought his hands to her head, fisting them briefly in her hair, before stroking his fingers through the strands. "Oh, Scully," he groaned, and he thrust his hips against her. She could feel his erection pushing at her leg, and then his hands were on her arms, lifting her until she was lying full length on top of him. He thrust upwards again, and she pushed down against him, drawing another groan from him. He slowly slid her blouse off her arms and pulled it from her body, tossing it aside, and then her breasts were rubbing into the springy mat of hair on his chest. His hands stroked up and down her back, and she rained kisses on his chest, up his throat, along his jaw, and across his face to his lips. He smiled against her mouth, and she pulled back slightly to look at him. His smile widened to a grin. "I can't believe we're finally doing this," he said. "Scully, I have to tell you, I've thought about making love with you, hell, I've dreamed about it, fantasized about it, for a very long time, and it's pretty incredible that we are actually here, now." The grin slowly left his face, and his eyes were suddenly serious. "Scully, I know you will probably never forget what I did to you, but I hope that what happens tonight will..." Scully placed her fingers over his lips, halting the flow of words. "Shut up and kiss me, Mulder," she said, and the gentle smile on her face took the sting from the words. "Yes, ma'am," he said, his own lips quirking into another smile. He cupped the back of her neck in one hand and drew her head down to his, their lips meeting in a deep kiss. His other hand rested on her hip, and with a quick, smooth move, he flipped her onto her back, his body covering hers. Her hands danced along his ribs before coming to rest at the waistband of his jeans. She pulled at the top button, feeling his stomach muscles jump and twitch beneath her fingers. She slowly unzipped him, letting her hand press a little into the bulge that was barely contained by the denim. He groaned into her mouth, and then his hands were helping her to push his jeans down, his weight leaving her for a moment as he kicked them free of his feet and onto the ground. He knelt over her, his fingers running along the waistband of her silk pants for a moment before he finally pulled at them. Scully lifted her hips slightly, and he tugged them down and off, tossing them towards the floor as well. Mulder's eyes took in her body, lingering at the tiny scrap of blue silk that was all that covered her, before he leaned down to press a kiss into her stomach. His tongue circled her belly button, and she felt the muscles there quiver in reaction. She felt him smile against her stomach, and then sucked in her breath sharply as his lips ran along the waistband of her panties. His teeth scraped over her hipbone, and she moaned his name, her hands lifting to clench in his hair. He lathed the spot with his tongue, inhaling her skin. It smelled like lotion of some kind, and he imagined her smoothing it into herself, her hands rubbing and circling. His penis began to throb, pushing insistently at his briefs. He thrust against her leg, trying to relieve some of the ache. The material of his briefs was constraining, and he lifted up from her for a moment and yanked them down and off, his engorged penis springing free, before returning quickly to lie atop her again. Scully's hips were twisting slightly, and he took the hint. He returned to her panties and carefully bit at the hem, letting her feel the edge of his teeth on her skin. Her hips bucked in reaction, and he quickly brought up one hand to help pull the panties off. He released the material in his mouth and slid them down her legs, throwing them onto the floor. His gaze returned to the nest of curls his actions had revealed. He brought his face closer to her, nuzzling his nose there, before pressing an open-mouthed kiss at her center. Scully moaned, and her thighs parted. The scent of her nearly drove him wild. Her voice reached him, pulling him from the depths. "Mulder," she gasped. "I want...we need..." Her hand gestured feebly towards her night table. "I bought...I bought condoms." Mulder looked up at her, to see her watching him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. She swallowed thickly, and he could see she was struggling with something. He waited, his heart pounding, his breath held. She finally continued, "I don't want to use them." She sucked in a breath, still moving restlessly beneath him. "I want to feel all of you." Her words were like lightning, igniting the flame within his body. He moved up her body, kissing, nipping and licking, until he was at her lips. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, and Scully surprised him by sucking at it, her hand gripping at the back of his neck, holding his face to hers. His pulse leapt, and he began to move his hips, thrusting against her leg, her hip. He felt her slide one leg around his waist, bringing her center into closer contact with his lower body. She squirmed beneath him, rubbing herself against him. His penis hardened almost unbearably at her actions, throbbing with need. He shifted slightly and slipped between her opened thighs. He nudged at her entrance, and her hand slid down between them to grasp him firmly. She guided him inside, and with one quick, hard thrust, he was buried to the hilt. They both gasped, and Mulder reared his head back to look at Scully's face. Her eyes were tightly shut, her teeth biting her lip. "Scully," he managed to say, trying to keep his hips still, when all he wanted to do was thrust and pump, to push them into oblivion. "Am I...hurting you?" She shook her head wildly. "No, Mulder. God, no. You feel...oh, God, you feel...you fill me so completely." Her inner muscles contracted then, squeezing him like a vise, and he began to move his hips. He moved up onto his elbows for better leverage, and it pushed him deeper. And more firmly against a spot that seemed to drive Scully wild. Her hands clenched at the comforter and she lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist. She met him thrust for thrust, twisting slightly as she did, grinding her pelvis against his. Her chin jutted upwards, her head pressing into the mattress and he swooped down to cover her mouth with his. He could feel the pleasure building and building, and his thrusts became quicker, harder. Scully matched his pace, pulling her lips free to gasp his name. He tucked his head down, burying his face in her hair, feeling his own breaths panting out. "Ohhhhh...Mulder, I'm going to..." Scully cried. She squirmed more frantically, her hands fisting in his hair, her legs squeezing him unbelievably tight. "Let it...go, Scully, let it go," he grunted back, pumping furiously, desperate to bring her to orgasm. "Please, Scully, come for me." "MUL-DER!!!" she nearly screamed his name, her hips bucking frantically. Her orgasm tipped him over the edge and with one final thrust, he emptied himself into her, groaning her name out in long syllables. He collapsed on top of her, his hips still moving slightly, before twisting with the last of his strength so that she lay sprawled over him. He could feel her heartbeat thudding next to his, and her exhalations puffing against the skin of his neck. "Oh, Scully," he sighed. His arms wrapped around her tight, and he hugged her to him for long moments before easing his grasp so that he could stroke one hand through her tangled hair. He felt her lips press a kiss onto his flesh. And then came a whispered admission, so faint he almost missed it. "I love you, Mulder." The words sent the most amazing feeling through his entire being, and erased all the emptiness and pain that had ever been in his heart. Mulder moved his hands to cup her face, lifting it so he could look into her eyes. "Scully, I love you." He watched as her eyes filled with tears and smiled gently at her. He raised his head and kissed each eyelid before placing his lips against hers very softly for a tender kiss. He pulled back slightly to see her return his smile, her lips trembling slightly. He had liked the sound of the words so much, liked saying them to her, so he said them again. "I love you." Her smile widened and she teased, "I think I could get used to you saying that." "I know I will love getting used to saying it," was his quiet rejoinder. Scully tucked her head back into his neck and he began to stroke her hair again. She murmured, "You know that song that was playing earlier, by Savage Garden? I keep thinking of one of the lines. 'I want to lay like this forever, until the sky falls down over me'. That's how I feel right now, Mulder." "Me too, Scully. Me too." Slowly he felt her breaths come slower and deeper as she began to doze. He closed his own eyes, feeling relaxed and comfortable, but not sleepy in the least. In fact, Scully's body pressed against his was sending signals to a certain part of his anatomy. He sighed to himself, trying to think distracting thoughts. Scully needed her rest, he could wait. *** Half an Hour Later Scully sighed as she stretched, feeling muscles pop and flex. Her body felt incredible. She felt incredible. Like she could dance on a cloud, or walk on water. She became aware of Mulder's hand stroking up and down her back. At the next stroke, he continued down further and cupped the cheek of her ass, squeezing slightly. She realized that was the wonderful feeling that had seeped into her consciousness, dragging her from her light sleep. "Mulder," she mumbled into his neck, nuzzling slightly. "I feel...well, incredible is the only word I can think of right now. I feel incredible." She stretched again, and the motion pushed her breasts into his chest. Her nipples hardened at the contact. "You most certainly do feel incredible, Scully," Mulder said, the leer obvious in his voice. His hand squeezed her ass again, and then he was flipping them, so that he was once again on top. He bent his head to her ear and huskily said, "I promise I am just getting started." The promise, uttered with such intense honesty, had her toes curling in anticipation. "Mmmmmm..." she murmured, as his lips nibbled at her neck. In response she ran her hands down his back to squeeze his ass. "Scully!" "I've always wanted to do that, Mulder. You have a very fine ass." She squeezed it once more, and then slipped one hand between their bodies to grasp his already hard penis. She was wet and ready, and lifting her legs to wrap them around his waist, she guided him to her entrance. He slid deep inside with ease, and they both sighed. Their bodies moved in concert. It was not as frantic this time, but no less earth shattering. Their voices mingled together when they came, each gasping the other's name. *** Two Hours Later They lay like spoons, curled together under the covers. Scully's rear end was nestled against him, and as she shifted slightly against him, he felt his penis begin to stir. He knew she was not asleep, but merely drowsing, for they had been talking quietly just moments ago. He pushed his hips forward, wiggling slightly, his lips brushing her shoulder. Scully's sleepy voice came in the darkness. "Again, Mulder?" She sighed, but Mulder knew it was just an act. She was wiggling back. "You're insatiable, Mulder." "Only for you, Scully," he said. Outside Scully's Apartment Georgetown, D.C. Alex Krycek grimaced at the sounds coming through his earpiece. Again? Jesus Christ, who'd have thought Mulder had it in him. Then again, these last few years, no women, watching all those porn tapes, he guessed a guy would have a lot stored up. And the taste he had of Scully six weeks ago must have been a good one. And speaking of Scully, the woman sounded like a wildcat. He wondered briefly what it would be like to fuck her, and the thought had him shifting uncomfortably in the car seat. He had spied and eavesdropped on the two of them many times before, but he had never had to listen to them go at it like dogs in heat. It was torture. Long moments passed. He tapped the fingers of his good hand restlessly on a jean-clad knee. Finally there was silence in his ear. He glanced at the windows of Scully's apartment. They were all dark, and everything seemed still. Could they be done at last? Or were they just getting their second wind, again? He didn't care anymore. He had heard enough. He reached over somewhat awkwardly and scooped up his cell phone. He dialed a number quickly and said, "It's done," before disconnecting just as quickly. Krycek started the car and pealed off into the night. THE END Feedback gratefully accepted at lovesfox@home.com