From: donnilee@juno.com
Date: Tue, 20 Feb 2001 22:39:06 -0500
Subject: RE:  "S is for Suspense" by Donnilee
Source: direct

TITLE:             S IS FOR SUSPENSE
AUTHOR:       DONNILEE
RATING:         NC-17
POSTING:      Please ask permission first and make sure my e-mail and
name is attached when you do post it. (Donnilee@snet.net)
SPOILERS:    Little ones for Fire, War of the Caprophages, Fight the
Future, The Rain King, Millenium, Triangle, The Sixth Extinction,
Home, Chinga, Never Again, Orison, Emily. Small references to various
characters and events from episodes. DISCLAIMER:  The characters
herein belong to Chris Carter, Fox  Broadcasting and Ten Thirteen
Productions.  Nope, not to me.  I would  have much more fun with them
than CC does if I owned them!  No  pennies are being made here
either. SUMMARY:   Scully agrees to go away with Mulder for a weekend
of R&R before beginning a new case.  

AUTHOR'S NOTE:   Requiem never happened.

DICTIONARY WORD

NEW LEXICON WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY
sus-pense - (SESPENS) N. the state of anxious expectancy or
uncertainty that usually develops while waiting for a decision,
outcome, etc. || (in drama, fiction and the movies) an effect of
intense and prolonged expectancy || (law) temporary suspension of a
right, etc. TO KEEP (or hold) in suspense - to keep in a state of
uncertainty or indecision [O.F. suspens, suspense, delay]

PART 1 (PG-13)
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2001
9:00 PM

We sat on my couch, eating egg rolls with one hand and trolling
through files with the other.  I was reading autopsy reports on the
latest in a string of victims that seemed to have been abducted and
returned.  Within days, they fell ill and died.  Five such deaths had
occurred, all in the small town of Warren, Connecticut.

Now this town was 5 miles across and 7 miles wide.  Population 1,000 -
Whoopee!  One four-way intersection, one general store, one church,
one elementary school, one town hall, one fire house, and one ...
everything essential.  It was the ass end of nowhere, twenty miles
past the last sign of civilization.  The good news was it was in
scenic Litchfield County, which was supposed to be the best place to
be during peak foliage season.  It was the first week in October and
it was the beginning of peak 'leaf peeper' season as my partner called
it.  

The victims all were dying from some virulent form of cancer.  They
disappeared healthy and were returned ill.  The autopsy reports
indicated that all the victims had been exposed to severe radiation of
some kind.  Radiation burns were found in various places on all the
victims.

Now, my partner had experienced radiation burns from his close
encounter with what he claims was a sunken alien ship.  He, however,
had been lucky and his burns had healed.  He was assuming now, of
course, that these people had been taken and experimented on and
exposed to the same form of alien 'radiation' that he had come in
contact with.  It had left them with cancer.  He didn't have cancer,
but was postulating that the victims' exposure was much more severe
than his had been.   Something was killing those people, but I doubted
it was extra-terrestrial in nature.

He leaned back on my couch and I watched him out of the corner of my
eye.  His hair had grown a little and was curling around the backs of
his ears, and brushing the top of his collar.  His glasses were
perched on his face, and reflecting the light from the lamp sitting
next to him on the table that sat next to my sofa.  His long, graceful
fingers held his egg roll as though it were a pointer.

"Look at this, Scully.  It says here in this state police report that
the locals have long told stories about a mysterious area of town
called Warren Woods.  It's a town park, but apparently backed by a
pond called Fisher's Pond.  There is a trail leading around part of
it, but the brush and undergrowth then grows too thick to continue. 
There have been reports of the pond 'boiling' in areas."

"Boiling, Mulder?"  I was incredulous and I sounded like it.

"Probably something sunk in the pond that is periodically releasing
pockets of air and causing turbulence in the pond.  But they say it
was a prime fishing spot until about five years ago when all the fish
died and floated to the surface.  They tried to restock it a couple of
times and then gave up after they all kept dying."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I want to see this pond.  And I want to see if I can
get someone to dredge it."

"What do you think is down there?"

He looked at me with that bright eyed, boyish expression he gets when
he's about to propose something insane.  "No, Mulder.  Please don't
tell me that you think there is an alien ship hiding in the bottom of
the pond."  I paused.  "There's no case here Mulder!"

He just continued to look at me and the corners of his mouth twitched.
 I let out a long suffering sigh.  He grinned.  "I'm not sure, Scully,
but I like to see you squirm.  You should see the expression you get
on your face!"

"What expression?"

"The one that says, 'Oh no, not again!  My partner's hanging a serious
mental left turn.'"


I frowned.  "Thanks, Mulder!"  I didn't even try to hid my sarcasm. 
"So what do you really think?"

"Sorry, Scully.  I love that expression.  Anyway, I think that
something is killing those fish and I want to find out what it is. 
What do  you say?  Trip to Connecticut tomorrow?"


"How long is the flight?"

"I thought we'd drive."

"Drive?  What, are you crazy?"

"Certifiable if you ask most people," he quipped without missing a
beat.

I smiled.  "Why do you want to drive?"

"I lived up there all my life, hating the New Yorkers and Jersey City
people that used to flock into the area this time of year, drive 25
miles per hour and stare at the hills."

"And?"


"And maybe I want to be a leaf peeper for a change!  It's really
beautiful, Scully.  You should see it.  You don't appreciate it when
you live there.  But after you've been gone a while, you miss it.  I
miss it.  D.C. isn't exactly a natural garden, you know?"

"You don't say?"  My voice dripped sarcasm.

He looked at me and then deflated.  "You're right, Scully.  There's no
case here.  We just don't have anything else to do. But the locals can
dredge the pond if they are so inclined.  I just thought that ...
well, we never get to relax and yes, and if we checked this out ... it
was just an excuse.  We don't have anything else to do. And ..."

"Spit it out, Mulder."


"We could spend a nice relaxing weekend.  Take in the leaves, go
hiking, hang around the house, whatever.  We never get away.  And then
we could check this thing out on Monday."

"Wait a minute!  What house?"

"My house."

"I repeat, what house?"

He looked at me and grinned.  "My father owned a house in Greenwich."

"Your father owned a house ..."

He was nodding slowly as if I was a slow child.  "And now it's mine."

I felt my eyes widen despite my best attempts to look unaffected. 
"You never told me you owned a house."

"You never asked."


"Mulder!"

He looked away and set the file on the coffee table and took another
bite of his egg roll.  He chewed carefully.  "Yeah, I know, lame
answer."

"Your father left you the house."

"Yes."

"And you didn't sell it."

"Not yet."

"Why?"

He shrugged.  "Never got around to it, I guess.  I thought I might
want to have a place to get away to, away from the city once in a
while.  I haven't been there since about six months after he died.  I
hired his former housekeeper and left.  Haven't been back since,
except for once."

He shrugged again.  He still wouldn't look at me.

"Mulder, look at me."

He turned and faced me, swallowing the last of his egg roll.  His eyes
darted away and then back to my face.  I could feel the tension
rolling off him suddenly.  Gone was the grinning, playful partner of a
moment ago.  "Look, forget it Scully.  I know you've probably got
better things to do than spend the weekend with me.  You see me every
other day of the week, right?  You probably want a weekend home alone.
 God knows you don't get many of them."  He looked at the coffee table
as if it had suddenly become very interesting.

"No, I don't.  Then again, I don't get away very often either."  The
thought of spending the weekend in the country with Mulder was more
appealing than it should be.  He was right.  I should want to spend
the weekend home, getting things done that had been neglected over the
summer.  He looked so dejected now.

But spending the weekend with Mulder could be dangerous too.  He had
no idea how tempting this was to me.  I could easily be lulled into
thinking he meant more than just having a little relaxing weekend. 
Did he?  Was that why he was suddenly acting so strange, so nervous?

He glanced at me again and then shook his head slightly.  "I don't
know what I was thinking."  He began gathering up the files and
putting them in a pile.  "It's late, I'd better be going."

What the hell was going on here?  Why did he suddenly want to bolt out
of here.  What did I say?  Or not say?  Oh, duh.

"Mulder, wait."

He stopped and looked at me, hands still on the piled files.  "What?"

I wanted a weekend away.  And sad, but true, I wanted that weekend
away with Mulder.  When would we ever get another chance?  It wasn't
like I had a bunch of friends knocking down the door to take me away
on a weekend get away.  

I could control myself.  I know I could.  And it might be fun.  See
where he grew up, have him tell me about the area.  "O.K."

"O.K. what?"

I smiled gently at him, knowing I was going to shock him.  He never
expected me to agree from the beginning.  I realized that now.  And he
was embarrassed that he had asked, that was the problem.  God, I could
be thick sometimes.  "No, we'll drive."

"We will?"

"Yeah, tomorrow morning.  Let me sleep in a little though.  Pick me up
at 8:00 AM."

The smile that lit his face up made my heart roll over in my chest. 
Good lord, this man was going to be the death of me.  He looked like a
little boy that had been granted his most desired wish.  He bit his
lower lip.  That killed me when he did that.  What the hell was I
doing?  I was going away for the weekend with Mulder.  But we were
friends.  We could do this.

How would it look? 

Who cares?

What were his intentions?  Lord, I sounded like a stern father. 'Gee,
son, what are your intentions with my daughter?  I was having second
thoughts already.  But he actually looked happy as he stuffed the
files into his briefcase and stood up, the big toothy smile still
splashed across his face.  Happy Mulder was a rare thing and I didn't
have the heart to rescind my decision now and wipe that smile off his
face.

He stood and said, "O.K., I'm going to get going, go home and pack. 
Uh, bring some warm sweaters and stuff, it can get chilly at night. 
Do you have hiking boots?"

"Yeah."

"Bring those too."

I nodded, his smile was infectious.  "It'll be fun, Scully, I
promise."

I nodded again and stood to follow him to the door.  He stepped into
the hall and then turned suddenly and put a hand on the back of my
neck.  I squeaked as he pulled me to him and kissed my forehead, hard
and quick.  "God, Scully, you've made my month," he declared. 

He kissed my forehead again, this time slower and softer and I
clenched my teeth to keep the shiver I experienced from showing on the
outside.  I looked up and he was grinning down at me.  "Thanks,
Scully."

"For what?"

He pulled me into a hug.  "For being my friend."

God, it was so easy to please this man, really.  Thank you for being a
friend!  Oh God.  I chuckled.  "No problem, Mulder.  You're a good
friend to me too."

He smiled at me again and then let go and waved over his shoulder as
he trotted down the hall to the elevator.  I watched the way his snug
jeans hugged his rear end as he strode away from me, actually humming!
 I shook my head and grinned, ducking back into the apartment.  My
body could still feel the imprint of his warmth against my chest.  My
forehead tingled where his lips had brushed my skin.

Was I crazy?  How was I going to go an entire weekend, alone with
Mulder and keep my hands off him?  The urge had been gradually
increasing in the last year or so.  It was becoming nearly unbearable.
 He was still the same old Mulder.  He still treated me with ultimate
respect and kindness.  Work was a buffer and a safe zone.  I could
fall back on the need for professionalism to distance myself from him
when things got too 'close'.

He could be a self-centered ass at times when he was wrapped up in a
case, but he didn't mean to be.  He always realized it later and
apologized afterwards.  I had come to accept it as being part of him
that would always be there.  He tended to be obsessive about things
that interested him and that wasn't going to change. 

What would it be like to be an obsession of Fox Mulder's?  I wondered.
 I shivered at the mere thoughts that this line of thinking was
dredging up.  Why hadn't he dated in all the time I'd known him?  I'd
asked myself that question more than once.   Was it simply because he
didn't have the time?  He'd had offers.  I knew that.

I knew Diana had propositioned him, that chick in Kroner, Kansas had
propositioned him.  I wasn't sure, but I think Marita would probably
jump him if he asked, and I know Phoebe would have.  Then there was
Bambi the Bimbo.  For God sakes!  Who names their child, Bambi?  No,
opportunities were not the problem. He'd had plenty of opportunities. 
And that's just the ones I knew about.

I swallowed hard as I felt a lump form in my throat, remembering the
crushing jealousy I'd experienced for every woman that had ever
touched him.  Sometimes it was light envy, other times it was
devastating jealousy.  Why?  I had no right to be jealous.  Mulder was
not mine.

Not mine.

That was the problem and I knew it.  I didn't want to face it.  He
wasn't mine and I ...  did I want him to be?  Would he want to be
mine?  I had been denying it for years, but I knew the answers to
these questions.  But facing them would mean that I had to do
something about it, didn't it?  Seven years of suspense was a long
time to teeter on the knife edge of sexual tension.

I sat down and put my fingers through my hair, scratching my scalp.  I
needed a shower.  I flopped back on the couch instead, closing my
eyes.  I couldn't fall asleep.  I needed to pack.  I had some stuff
that I always kept packed.  A bag with a couple of suits and
toiletries was always ready to go, but I needed casual clothes for
this trip.  

Alone with Mulder for a whole weekend in a house in the country.  I
was insane, but I felt excited too.  Why did I keep fooling myself? 
God, the way he looked at me when I said I would go!  Was there any
better feeling than making the brooding, introspective Fox Mulder
happy.  What that smile did to me!

Did he not date because he ... wanted to be with me? NO!  I couldn't
let myself think that.  It was a recipe for disaster.  I knew I wasn't
his type.  I knew he liked and respected me.  I also knew I drove him
nuts, well, more nuts than he usually was on any given day.  But
sometimes I would catch him looking at me.  His expression would be
sad, or wistful by turns.   If I caught him at it, he always looked
like he wanted to say something, but he never did.

He was rarely openly affectionate with me.  The kiss on the forehead
had taken me by surprise.  He must have really been happy to be bold
enough to do that.  Those touches usually only came in times of sorrow
and great need or illness.  Why was that anyway?  Was that the only
time we felt we had a right to touch each other?  No.  It was the only
time I felt I had an 'excuse' to touch him.

Did I need one?  He was my best friend after all.  I shouldn't be
afraid to touch him, but ... I was.  Why?  Who am I kidding?  I know
why.  I'm afraid to touch him because if I do, he will touch me back. 
He's a much more tactile person than I am.  I know he holds back out
of respect for my boundaries.  But if I touched him, it would be
permission to be touched back.  And I know in my heart what his
touches will do to me if they last more than a couple of seconds. 
I've felt it.   I've felt that sizzling tension between us before.  

So many times, I've come close to giving in to the urge to curl up
into his warmth and take solace.  In his hallway when he thought I was
going to leave him.  He looked like he'd had his heart ripped out.  He
was going to kiss me then, I know it.  I felt the soft brush of his
full lip and then ... that damned bee.  What the hell?  I'd replayed
that near kiss in my mind a thousand times.  

What was his intent?  To merely make me stay?  Or was there more to
it?  Was it something he wanted, and at that moment felt that he had
nothing to lose?  Or was it just a ploy to get me to stay?  I know he
would have done anything to get me to stay.  But in my heart, I also
knew that he respected me way too much to use that sort of behavior as
a tool against me.

So what was the bottom line?  

One, my partner excited me much more than I was comfortable
admitting.


Two, my partner was a brilliant, kooky, intriguing, mysterious man.

Three, my partner was sexy as hell.

Four, my partner respected me and was my best friend.

Five, I was going to spend the weekend with him ... alone.  I
swallowed hard again.  

Bottom line, I was excited about it.  I could have him if I wanted
him.  I knew I could.  All I'd have to do is make the first move. 
He'd told me he loved me.  But he'd been in a drunken stupor from the
drugs at the time.  I knew he loved me as a friend.  I also knew he
was a normal, healthy, heterosexual male who hadn't gotten any in a
long time.

Neither had I.  But it wasn't as simple as becoming lovers to relieve
a need.  We had a lot at stake.  If we did this thing and it didn't
work out, it could mean disaster.  It could spell the end of a
beautiful friendship and the end of a spectacular working
relationship.

On the other hand, I couldn't help but wonder what I was missing. 
Some instinct told me that he would be a great lover.  I shivered
again as I felt my nipples harden just at the thought of him touching
me with those big hands.  

Shower.  I needed a shower.  I needed to pack.  And then I needed to
think some more.  Was I ready to cross that line?  Was I willing to
risk what we had?  These were questions I needed to answer before I
ran willy-nilly into a situation that had enormous potential to
backfire.


PART 2 (NC-17)
FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2001
11:00 PM


Holy Shit!  Scully agreed to go away with me for the weekend!  I
couldn't believe it.  And there was no case.  I had just been using
that for an excuse to lure her up there.  She called me on the case
and ... she still agreed to go! This was something that romantically
involved couples did ... went away for the weekend together.  It was
an event in most relationships that marked an increase in commitment. 
You had your first date, you dated, and you slept over at each other's
places.  And then, you went away for the weekend together.

My relationship with Scully was anything but conventional.  We had
come together as wary adversaries.  We had progressed from aggravation
and incredulity to respect and fondness.  Then we had moved on to
tentative friendship.  Later, a deep and abiding trust and close
friendship had bound us together.

We had been there for each other through horrendous events, life
altering events.  We'd both had our faiths and beliefs shaken, stirred
and put back together again.  We'd lost our idealism.  But our
friendship and respect and trust for one another had survived,
although all those things had been severely tested.

We had touched before, hugged and comforted each other on several
occasions.  We had given comfort kisses on the forehead to one
another.  We had cried with each other.  We even held hands a time or
two.  But it was always in response to a traumatic event.  I almost
kissed her when she was going to leave me, in my hallway.  I'd felt my
lips brush hers, feather light, and then that damn bee had stung her
and almost tore my world to shreds.

Then there was that lame kiss on New Year's Eve.  I'd had to do it.  I
had to know what she would do.  She didn't stop me.  She didn't push
me away.  But she didn't encourage me either.  One little indication
and I would have swooped and devoured, despite my wounded arm.  But
there had been none.  She had stood placidly, her eyes closed and let
me do it.  And that was all.  I think I adequately hid my crushing
disappointment when she didn't respond to me.

Like most things, I wrote it off as just a New Year's kiss and never
mentioned it again.  Neither did she.  We were the King and Queen of
denial.  There was something between us.  Something fierce and
arousing that bred unshakable loyalty to one another.  She was
essential to me.  And I'd like to think that I was essential to her,
although I question that on a daily basis.  She's never said one way
or the other what I really mean to her.

I tried to tell her after I was unceremoniously dragged out of the
freezing water of the Burmuda Triangle.  Hypothermic and my head
swimming with drugs and visions of a 1939 Dana Scully in my arms, I'd
proclaimed my love for her.  Stupid move.  She'd dismissed me out of
hand and nearly laughed in my face.  I'd shrugged it off at the time,
the drugs helping immensely to block my broken heart, but I'd been
devastated later when the reality had hit me.

She'd said, 'Oh, Brother', as if it was the most ridiculous thing I
could have said.  And she'd walked away, like she did in so many of my
nightmares, leaving me alone, as always.

She always came back though and that had to mean something.  I was too
close to her, to the situation.  I had too much of an emotional vested
interest in the outcome to be able to look at our relationship
objectively, or to adequately figure out her reactions.  Besides,
profiling Scully seemed like the worst kind of invasion of privacy.

But when she'd come to me, sweaty and disheveled from Africa, having
found our holy grail, she'd been weak with relief to find me alive.  I
could feel it.  And she touched my head and my arms and begged me to
hold on.  I could hear her, although she didn't know it.  I could read
minds then, sense emotions, but I couldn't speak.  And I'd felt her
unconditional acceptance and love for me flow over me like a warm
blanket.  She's never said the words.  Maybe she never will.  But I'd
felt them.  I also sensed that she hadn't put a name to those
feelings.  She didn't know what she felt for me at the time.  She only
knew that if I should die, she would be devastated.  I took heart in
that.

As usual, after the whole ordeal was over, I began to doubt what I'd
sensed and felt and heard from her mind.  Perhaps I had put a name to
those feelings, the name I WANTED to put on those feelings.  Because I
didn't doubt my own.  I knew I loved her.  I knew I was in love with
her like I'd never been in love with anyone.  And I knew a fierce,
protective, strong and abiding love for my partner as a colleague, as
a friend, as a companion, a scientist, and most of all, as a woman.  I
loved the woman, Dana Scully, not just the partner, Scully.  

She called me mercurial, but her moods were just as abrupt and
changeable as mine, they were just different moods with different
triggers.  She was enigmatic and mysterious in some ways.  In other
ways, she was as predictable as rain after the sight of black clouds.

Her mind was predictable, but her heart?  Ah, her heart was a vast
labyrinth of mystery.  A mystery that I really had no hope of ever
figuring out.  But that was what made her so intriguing.  It was what
kept me coming back to her light, like a moth to a flame.  I knew I
could get burned, and burned badly.  But I was helpless against the
draw of her pure motives, her unconditional friendship, and her belief
in spooky old me.

So now, she was going away with me to my father's home for the weekend
before the start of a case.  Oh boy.  What did it mean?  Did it mean
anything at all?  We were friends after all.  And I'd wrapped my
invitation in a gift wrap of opportunity to get away and relax.  This
was something neither of us got the chance to do very often.  She had
vacationed a couple of times since our partnership began.  Christmas'
with her family, a certain trip to Maine one year that turned into a
working holiday.  

And other than taking off to parts unknown to search out a hunch about
my sister and one trip of Graceland, I hadn't had a vacation in over
seven years.  But that ill fated trip to Graceland.  She had gone wild
that time in Philadelphia, without me.

She'd gotten a scratched face, burned hands, a black eye and a tattoo
for her trouble.  But she had been more mysterious and beautiful to me
than she had ever been upon her return.  And she had told me that not
everything was about me.  Clearly, I had overstepped my bounds of what
I could expect from her.  I had taken her for granted.  And my heart
paid the price.  I was twisted with jealousy and rage over her
indiscretion.  At the same time, it made me want her more than ever.

So now I had to take her away with me and I had to NOT read anything
into this.  It was going to be hard.  I wanted so much for this to
mean something.  I wanted it to mean that her barriers were softening
toward me.  I wanted it to mean that she wanted something other than
friendship from me.  I wanted it to mean that I had a chance of
someday hearing her say that she loved me.  But I knew with resigned
sense of fatality, that all this was just that.  What I wanted.  What
I wished.  Wishful thinking.

I packed steadily as these thoughts ran through my head that evening. 
Despite my intellect telling me not to get my hopes up, I felt hope
and excitement flare in my chest.  Dana Scully was going away for the
weekend with me, ... alone with me for the weekend.

I jumped when the phone rang, startling me out of my self-absorbed
revelry.  I snatched up the receiver off the bedside table.

"Mulder."

'Mulder, it's me.'

"Oh, hey, Scully.  What's up?"

'I was wondering if I should bring some things.'

"What do mean?"

"Should I bring candles?"

"Candles?"

"In case the power goes out."

I laughed.  "It's not a cabin in east Podunk, Scully.  It's a fully
equipped house.  Even has indoor plumbing for your bathing pleasure. 
But if you want to bring candles, you can, or we can buy them there. 
I wouldn't mind sitting around with you by candlelight."

She chuckled.  'Oh.  Sorry.  Um, should I bring a backpack?'

"If you want.  Again, we shouldn't need it.  If we go hiking, it won't
be an all day affair, unless you want it to be.  I can always pack a
lunch in a small cooler or basket or something."

"Are you taking me on a picnic lunch, Mulder?"

"I'll take you on whatever you like, Scully."

There was a pregnant beat of silence.  She cleared her throat.  "So
I've packed sweaters and sweatshirts, jeans, wool socks and hiking
boots, even a winter jacket just in case.  Can you think of anything
else I should bring?"

"Just your pretty, little fanny."

'Mulder!'  She sounded exasperated but amused.  At least the comment
didn't piss her off.  It was rather juvenile and not something I would
normally say.

I laughed a little.  I couldn't help it.  "You might want to pack some
jammies.  I don't know what you usually wear to bed, but it can be
cool at night in the fall there, although I can always crank the heat
up."  I bit my lip as I realized how that could sound if taken the
wrong way.

She ignored the possible double meaning as usual.  "I have some warm
jammies.  Good.  I guess that's it then.  I'll see you in the
morning."

"O.K.  Hey, Scully?"

I was a little startled at how low and gravel my voice sounded when I
spoke.  "I'm really glad you agreed to go.  I'm ... really looking
forward to this."

There was another beat of silence and then she said, "Me too, Mulder. 
Me too.  Good night."

"Night, Scully."  I hung up the phone and zipped my suitcase, my
packing complete.  I'd managed to get everything into one oversized
suitcase and one duffel bag.  I walked them out and set them by the
door and undressed down to my boxers.  I looked at the couch and
decided I wanted to sleep in the bed tonight.  I wanted to get a good
sleep and having just heard her voice, I didn't feel so lonely as I
usually did.  I slept on the couch often because I didn't like going
to an empty bed, or waking up in one.  If I slept on the couch,
somehow it wasn't so bad.  It was like I just fell asleep watching TV
and didn't have to face the large, King size bed with no one in it to
greet me.

I shrugged, shucked off my boxers and crawled between the cool sheets,
shivering slightly as I squirmed to try and warm them up.  My eyes
drifted closed and as usual, visions of Scully skittered across the
back of eyelids.  Scully with her lips pursed in annoyance.  Scully
with her eyes sparking with blue flint in anger.  Scully smiling that
full smile that made my chest tighten to the point where I couldn't
breath.  Scully's soft lips pressed against my forehead, her hands on
my face.   

I felt my dick harden and slid my hand down to the inside of my thigh,
teasing the hair there and feeling warmth rush into my groin.  I
moaned lightly, giving in to the nightly ritual.  I cupped my balls
gently and fondled them, feeling myself rise to fully erect.  

I pictured her flushed and angry, red rising up her chest and face. 
That angry flush I'd seen so many times transformed and before my
mind's eye was an aroused Scully.  She panted gently, her eyelids
drooped with lazy arousal.  Her stormy blue eyes clouded with desire. 
I imagined the feel of her lips against mine. 

I began stroking myself lazily but firmly.  I imagined the feel of her
silky skin against my chest and groaned as I stepped up my pace. My
index finger pressed harshly below my head on that sensitive spot with
every stroke.  Her lips ... I could imagine them wrapping around the
swollen head of my cock.  Her tongue swirling over the sensitive skin.
 Oh, this was so good.  I swear I could actually feel her suck on me
as my imagination took flight.  

I felt my balls coil suddenly and release in a fast, furious orgasm
that left me spent.  I panted and reached for the tissues on the
bedside table to clean myself up.  Maybe now I would be able to sleep.
 I looked at myself in the mirrors above the bed and talked to myself.
 "You're one sorry son of a bitch, you know that?"

I closed my eyes and fell asleep within minutes.

XXXXXXXXXX
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2001
12:30 PM

I'm going away for the weekend with Mulder.  Oh my God.  What did I
say to him by agreeing to do this?  I mean, he could take it entirely
the wrong way and think that I wanted to advance this relationship
beyond the point where it is now.

Do I?  Why did I accept?  I knew before I said yes that it was a
dangerous thing to do.  And not because I fear that he will do
anything that I didn't want him to do.  In fact, I'm not even afraid
he'll make a pass at me.  He respects me too much and I've given him
no reason before now to believe that I wanted anything else.

What am I afraid of?  Why am I so nervous?  It's just Mulder.

Nothing about Mulder or what I do with Mulder is JUST anything. 
Everything we do and say is laden with multiple meaning and levels of
importance.  We each chose the definition and meaning that we were the
most comfortable with and ran with it.  We ignored the rest.  I have
to be a fool not to recognize the incredible chemistry we have
together.  The near eerie ability we have to know what the other is
thinking.

But that's just it.  I know what he is thinking, but rarely do I get a
glimpse of what he is FEELING.  He has that blank mask that he slips
so easily into to place to hide his heart from me.  Sometimes I am
grateful for it.  At other times, if I am honest, it hurts me.  He
trusts me with his life, but not with all his feelings.

But then again, 'Hello pot, this is the kettle!' Was I any better? 
Did I ever pontificate on what things make me feel?  Rarely.  We have
seen each others' hearts on the rare occasion when the pain or the
fear was just too much bear and we didn't have the energy or the
stamina to continue hiding it.  On those occasions we had fallen into
each other's arms like long lost lovers, reveling in the feel of
safety and security that comes from knowing you are loved and
cherished.


Loved?  Does he really love me?  He tried to kiss me once but I
convinced myself that it was only because he was desperate to make me
stay.  He said he loved me once, but he was so drugged up, I couldn't
allow myself to believe him, lest I get my heart broken when he
sobered up from his drug induced giddy euphoria.  I viewed it much
like you view the declaration of a happy drunk who loudly declares, 'I
love you, man, really I do.'

I viewed it with a combination of amusement, sadness, and acceptance. 
But I didn't take him seriously.  But the things he has done for me
are certainly above and beyond the call of duty.  He's saved my life
more times than I care to count.  He's infuriated me with his alpha
male protective bullshit.  He's been tender and comforting when I was
battling my own demons after the whole Phaster shooting fiasco.  But
what does that really mean anyway?

I've done the same things for him.  So I guess if I figure out why I
did these things, I might have my answer as to why he did those
things.  Am I brave enough now to really look at that?  I think I have
to whether I am ready or not, because I don't want to make a fatal
mistake in this relationship.  It's too important to me, to my
survival, to my sense of who I am.

When did that happen?  When did I begin measuring my success in life
by the amount of praise and acceptance that I received from him?  That
wasn't very healthy.  I knew I was generally a strong person.  I knew
that I could easily sublimate my independence to him if I let go of
the tight grip on my emotions.  Would that be such a bad thing?

He would never harm me on purpose.  This I know.  But he has the
potential to utterly destroy me emotionally without even meaning to. 
I know this too.  So what does that mean?  How can someone have that
sort of power over you and only be 'a friend'?  Is that even
possible?

The answer is 'No.'  Mulder is much more than a partner to me.  He is
my other half, a part of me.  I felt that he balanced my character
defects.  We were each other's polar opposite, but somehow instead of
creating conflict, that created a balance and a flowing synergy
between us that allowed us to operate as a team like a well oiled
machine.  At work it is undeniable, our ability to look at all sides
of a thing has given us the highest solve rate in the Bureau on cases
that no one else even wanted to attempt to figure out.  What could we
do with normal cases?  Would there be anything, between the two of us,
that we couldn't figure out?  I doubted it.

So then why is this so hard to figure out?  Why can't we figure out
each other.  Because we've talked about cases.  Because we've talked
about theories.  Because we've talked about evidence and fit the
puzzle together.  Ahh, but the puzzle of US.  That, we never talk
about.  Why?  Fear, plain and simple.

What am I afraid of?  Like I thought before.  I know that he would
never do anything that I didn't want him to do.  I'm afraid of myself.
 I'm afraid I will make a pass at him.  I'm afraid, being alone with
him for an entire weekend, will be more than I can resist.  I'm afraid
that I will break down my carefully constructed walls I have built
against him and lose my control.

And what would happen if I did?  Aren't we good enough friends to
weather the end of an affair, should it come to that?  No.  Once we
take that final step across the line of human relationships and become
intimate, there will be no going back.  No going back to being friends
would ever be enough.  I know it.  I'd bet that he knows it too.

It could make us better.  It could destroy us.  But only if we let it.
 An intimate relationship would require an enormous effort on both our
parts to communicate better.  We communicate just fine on the job. 
But that talent would have to be released upon our personal lives. 
Could I do that?  Yes, I think I could.  It wouldn't be easy. 
Expressing my feelings has never been easy.  But I think it wasn't
easy because I was always afraid of being hurt.  Always afraid that
someone would use those emotions against me.  I knew in my heart that
Mulder would never do that.  


I would never do it to him either, because I love him.  

Oh lord.  Did I just think that?  Shit.

I love him.  I do love him.  Oh God.  Why didn't I realize it before? 
Too busy hiding behind the walls, that's why.  And with sudden clarity
I realized why I have done all the things I have for him, things that
were against my nature.  It's because I love him.  And I know that the
door must swing both ways.  The extraordinary things he has done for
me are because he loves me.  And he could no more face life without me
than I could without him.  What is that but love?

He feels my pain.  I feel his pain.  What is that, but love?  I have
panicked and felt devastation every time I have thought that I was
going to lose him to death. What is that, but love?  Railing against
my helplessness in the face of his impending demise, what is that, but
love?

I've been a complete and utter idiot.  Whew, that's something I never
thought I would admit.  Me, Dana Scully, and emotional idiot.  Yes
folks, there you have it.  So what now?

So I realized these things?  Did that mean I was ready to act on them?
 Did it mean that he was ready to act on them?  He'd invited me to go
away with him for the weekend.  Why had he done that?  Just to spend
time alone with me?  He could do that here.  Who am I kidding?  It's
not the same and I know it.

I laid down on the bed, naked, my mind spinning with all the
implications of this weekend.  Without thought, my hands slid to my
breasts, kneading them gently, grasping the nipples and rolling them
into tight little buds.

I moaned softly, feeling the familiar tingle between my legs.  One
hand slid down my abdomen and caressed the inside of my thigh, teasing
myself.  Oh man, I could picture it, his hands, twice the size of
mine, gliding my inner thighs, feeling his rough calluses on my tender
skin.  I shivered and felt my labia grow moist and swollen, swallowing
the resulting moan.  

My fingers slid up to rub up and down against my lips in an effort to
relieve the slight ache that had began there at my juncture.  His
lips, I could imagine them sucking my nether lips between their plump
fullness.  His rough tongue lapping at my sex, swallowing my
excitement for him.  Damn, I wasn't going to do this again.  I wasn't
going to fantasize about him again.  I couldn't help it.

I resigned, sighed and rolled over to open the draw on the nightstand.
 I pulled out the long, smooth vibrator, Seven inches long and 1-1/2"
wide hunk of plastic that would provide me with enough relief to
sleep.


I turned it on low, the gentle hum filling my ears as I rubbed it
lightly over my clitoris, shuddering at the vibrations.  I tipped it
inside, holding my labia open and pressing it inside.  I was so wet,
it slid in without resistance and I pressed it in until just the last
inch was peeking out.  I rolled onto my stomach, one hand pinching my
nipple, the other working the vibrator slowly in and out from between
my legs.  My face was mashed into the pillow, my breathing
accelerating as I tipped it forward toward the front, searching for
the elusive G-spot that would send me spinning to a quick conclusion. 

I could imagine his hard chest pressing against my back, his large
hands kneading my butt cheeks.  Or what would it be like to straddle
him and ride him fast and deep, watching his face transform into
expression of passion I'd imagined so many times before.  What would
he look like when he had an orgasm?

I sped up my ministrations, using my fingers to let the vibrator slide
out on its own and push it back in.  The palm of my hand fell to my
pubic bone, crushing my clit against the humming vibrations and hard,
warm plastic pulsing between my legs.  Those lips, I could picture
them suckling my tits, those green eyes flashing with desire.

That's it.  Waves of pulsing pleasure rolled through me and I let them
come, succumbing to the contractions of my womb and the unbearable
tightening of my nipples.  I shouted, "Oh God, Mulder, please!"  

I slumped in defeat, yanking the plastic from between my legs and
twisting the end to shut it off.  I stared at it for a moment before
addressing the inanimate object.  "You've been great, but I'm sorry,
there's no substitute for the real thing."  

I sighed and grabbed a tissue to clean off the vibrator.  I got up and
ran a washcloth under hot water in the sink, cleaning myself up.  No
sense waking up sticky and nasty.  I was bone tired now.

I went back to the bed, my feet dragging on the carpet and crawled
under the sheets.  I grabbed my extra pillow, embracing it with both
arms, setting my chin on the top of it.  I closed my eyes, pretending
he was there, pressed against me, and fell asleep at last.


PART 3 (R)
GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT
FOX MULDER'S HOUSE
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2001
4:00 PM

I'd picked her up shortly before 8:00 AM.  The eight hour drive had
been surprisingly pleasurable. It was usually a drag, but then, the
other times I'd made this trip, I had been alone.  We took turns
driving, stopped for lunch and ate it in the car as we continued on. 
She'd brought two suitcases.  I'd almost laughed, knowing that she was
usually such an economical packer.  She'd defended herself, saying
that on business trips, she knew what she was going to need.  For this
trip, she didn't. 

I wanted to make a quip about making more room by leaving her pajamas
behind, but decided against it.  No need to make her uncomfortable
before we even got there.  I didn't want her to think that making a
pass at her was the intention of this trip.  I didn't want her to
think I invited her for the sole purpose of getting her alone and
jumping her.

Was that the reason I'd invited her?  No, it wasn't. I'd invited her
spur of the moment, never expecting that she would accept.  I'd
thought about inviting her up here many times, but never had the guts.
 The case was so close though and I found I couldn't resist.

And now, here she was, sitting placidly in the car next to me, like so
many other times.  Only this time, we were going to my house.  I still
had a hard time thinking of it as my house.  My father had purchased
it and moved in shortly after the divorce.  I'd rarely been here when
he was alive, or since he was dead, maybe once a year for the
obligatory familial visit.

We would have dinner, stumble through stilted conversation and end up
leaving things as awkward as they had ever been between us.  We
avoided the subject of my work and obsession like the plague and never
mentioned my mother or her welfare.  It was as if we knew
instinctively that these topics were taboo for us and would lead to
nothing good.

Now he was gone and I was his sole heir.  He'd left me this house.  My
mother had left me the house on the Vineyard and a summer cottage in
New Hampshire.  I had sold the cottage, but kept these two houses.  I
still wasn't sure why.  Maybe in the back of my head I had imagined a
future with a wife and kids and a place to go and settle down. 

I remember telling Scully when we were in Home, Pennsylvania, that if
I was to settle down it would be in a place like that.  That was a bit
of a fabrication.  I would have to be closer to civilization.  But
Greenwich was a heavily populated area, but with cul-de-sacs of
privacy, much like where this house stood.  Scully didn't know about
the 28 foot cabin cruiser I had docked in Norwalk at the marina
either.  Another gift from dear old dad.  I'd never felt the need to
share these things with her.  I was almost embarrassed by my wealth
and that of my family at times.  I'm not sure why, maybe because I
knew her family grew up struggling to support four kids on a military
salary.  

I knew Dana wouldn't have held that against me or automatically
thought I was a snob because of it.  I'd gone to Oxford for Christ's
sake and not on a scholarship.  She had to know that was hefty chunk
of change.  But I guess I felt the trappings of wealth represented a
false image of my family that I had never been comfortable with or
subscribed to.  I felt that my father's money was blood money, ill
gotten through his nefarious career with the Department of Justice. 

My mother's family had been wealthy.  She had given them their start. 
My father had lived the American dream, married into money and made
his own fortune with what seed money had been gifted to him by his
father in law.  Of course, bribes and payoffs from the shadow
government and the Department of Justice hadn't hurt his bank account
either.

But it had cost us Samantha.  I knew in my heart, that aliens or no,
he was the cause of her abduction.  He had allowed it.  He had
condoned her being taken as insurance against an invading alien race
and their shadow conspiracy cohorts.  It ensured that he would keep
his mouth shut.  

And he did, for over 40 years.  Then one fateful night, he opened his
mouth ... to me.  He was going to tell me of his horrid participation
in a cover up so massive and gruesome that it was mind boggling.  I
sensed it.  And he had broken the rules.  Those bastards had known of
his plan to spill the beans to me and had sent their dapper little
assassin to his home and killed him in the bathroom while I waited
ignorantly in the living room.  I suppose that there was justice in my
being able to enjoy the fruits of their labor and misfortune.  

I shook my head to clear it of these memories as I pulled into the
driveway.  The driveway was a long one, heading straight onto the
property for about a quarter mile and ending in a circular drive at
the front of the house.   A fountain in the center of the top of the
drive sported a water sprite carrying a jug that spurted water down
her body and into a basin.  It was silent and empty now and hadn't
been used in years.  

The grass was neatly mowed and trimmed and I was sure the inside would
be clean.  I paid someone to mow the lawn and plow in the winter.  And
I kept a paid housekeeper who came every week to dust and vacuum.  I
had called her from the car to let her know that I was coming, ...
with a guest and she assured me that all was well and she would be
there when I arrived that afternoon.  I told her that wasn't
necessary, but she'd insisted.

I'd known her for years and we had become friends by telephone since
my father had passed away.

Scully's eyes went wide as we approached the circular drive and I slid
the car to a stop before the front stoop.  The large wrap around porch
with Greek white columns was impressive, even to me.  The large
mahogany front door swung open before I even exited the car and popped
the trunk.


Jodie Hallman, the housekeeper, came tripping down the stairs a wide
smile on her face.  She was a woman in her late forties who had worked
for my father for nearly ten years before his death.  She wrapped me
in a tight embrace as Scully looked on.  She was a tall woman with
long brunette hair pulled back into a ribbon.  It was showing shots of
gray here and there. She had laugh lines around her eyes and
affectionate grin on her face.

"Fox, oh it's so good to see you!"

I jerked my head up when I heard Scully mumble, "I'll bet."

I caught her eyes and she looked embarrassed and quickly looked away. 
I disentangled myself from Jodie's embrace.  "Good to see you too,
Jodie.  How have you been?"  

My eyes kept straying to Scully, wondering what was wrong.  She was
smiling, but it was her 'phony' smile, the one she pasted on to cover
up anger.  "I've been good, Fox, how about you?"

"All right, I guess.  Jodie, this is my ... very best friend, Dana
Scully."

Jodie spun on her heel and stuck out her hand to Scully.  "Oh, so good
to meet you.  I've heard so much about you over the years!"

Scully jerked an eyebrow into the air.  "Is that so?"

She shook Jodie's hand and I watched as Jodie's smile faded.  "Yeah,
uh, he calls now and again to give instructions on the upkeep here. 
He always talks about you."

"Jodie, that's enough," I warned.  Scully perked up then, out of her
sullen mood that I hadn't understood.  Her radar went up and she
realized the chance to get some information from this woman.

I cringed as I thought of all the things I'd told Jodie.  I'd known
her for years.  She'd been loyal to my father and didn't know about
his extra curricular activities in the government and I'd never
enlightened her.  She had always been a sympathetic ear and a safe
one, being so far away.  We'd been friends but most of that friendship
conducted over the phone.

Scully asked, "He always talks about me, huh?  What does he say?"

"Jodie," I warned again.

She flashed an impish smile at me and I knew I was sunk.

"Darlin'," she exclaimed, her slight British accent coming through. 
"You should hear him go on about how brave and brilliant you are. 
He's told me about how you've saved his life and comforted him when he
was down."

"Jodie, that's enough!" I nearly barked at her, trying not to get
annoyed. 

She just smiled and continued talking.  Scully was smiling now,
enjoying my discomfiture immensely. "And that's not all," Jodie said
with a sly tone to her voice, also enjoying my upset.  It just made me
angrier.

Scully beamed.  "Oh, do go on, please."  I could tell she was ready to
bust and despite my worry that Jodie would say something
inappropriate, I liked seeing Scully with that mischievous glint in
her blue eyes.

"To be sure," Jodie quipped.  "He's also gone on about how drop dead
gorgeous you are and how you turn all the men's heads wherever you
go."

Scully's mouth dropped open now and I turned away, swallowing the
sudden thickness in my throat.  Damn her!  This was going to be
awkward.  Now I did bark, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. 
"Jodie, I said that's enough.  Now shut the fuck up!"

Both women spun to face me, surprised by my outburst.  I'd never
talked to her that way.  She took one look at my face and cringed. 
"Sorry, Fox. I'm ..."  She backed up.  "I'm really sorry, I was just
...  having a little fun."

I felt guilt crash down on my shoulders and I strode to Jodie in two
long strides.  I wrapped her up in my arms, feeling like a real ass. 
She tried to jerk out of my embrace but I held her fast.  The tears
were swimming in her eyes.  I leaned down and whispered into her ear. 
"I'm sorry Jodie.  I shouldn't have barked.  I'm sorry.  It's just,
she doesn't know ..."

Her head jerked up to look me in the face.  I was realizing that Jodie
was the only person I had ever told that I was in love with my best
friend, my partner.  I'd never really thought about it before.  She
was wide eyed and brushed the tears from her eyes.  I saw realization
dawn on her an instant later.  She knew now why I was so upset.  I
realized that the things I'd said may have led her to believe that
Dana and I were involved.  Well, we were, but not the way that my
confessions may have hinted.  She shook her head slightly.  "Fox,
you're an ass, you know that?  A complete ass."  

She said this aloud.  And although I'd whispered, Scully had obviously
heard me.  I let go of Jodie and turned as Scully asked, "I don't know
what?"

I just looked at her,  "Later, Scully, O.K.?  Please, just let it go. 
I'm sorry.  I don't want to start this weekend off on a sour note. 
Let's just get our luggage inside and figure out what we are going to
do for dinner.

Jodie spoke up again.  "I left a note on the kitchen counter so you
would know where everything is kept.  I'll be going now.  If you need
anything, give me a call."

She turned and headed toward the three car garage attached to the
house.  Her mustang was parked there and she backed out, nearly
pulling a donut as she peeled out of the driveway.  I hung my head,
knowing that my apologies were not nearly over as far as Jodie was
concerned.

Scully approached me with her no nonsense look on her face.  "What the
hell was that all about, Mulder?"  I glanced at her and then away
again.  "Look at me, Mulder."

I forced myself to meet her gaze.  "I've known Jodie for over ten
years.  We've become friends since Dad died."

"Some way to treat a friend, Mulder.  It's a wonder you have any
left."

I hung my head again, swallowing and taking a deep breath, trying to
regain my composure.  "I know.  I've never yelled at her like that."

"Why did you?  And look at me when I'm talking to you."

I lifted my head again and said, "I panicked."

"Why?"

"I've confided in Jodie over the years.  She was a good friend to my
father, loyal, discreet.  She was always fond of me."

"I'll bet."

I heard the clipped tone of her voice and looked at her a little
harder.  Could it be that she was jealous?  Naw!

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she said a little too quickly.

"Scully?  What is it?  Does it bother you that Jodie and I are
friends, or that you didn't know that we were friends."

"You've never mentioned her, but that's beside the point.  Don't try
to side track me.  I'm the one asking the questions.  Now what just
happened to set you off like that?  She was just teasing."

I filed away her response for later discussion.  "When it comes to
you, I don't like to be teased."

She looked at me then and I saw something come over her face.  It was
realization.  Realization of what, I'm not sure, but realization of
something.  She looked like she did when a huge piece of a puzzle fell
into place on a case.

Slowly, her voice softened now, she asked, "And why is that, Mulder?"

I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly gone dry.  "I've confided things
to Jodie.  She was a 'safe' ear if you know what I mean.  She was
removed from my life, never intermingled with my friends in D.C.  And
sometimes I needed to talk to someone and she was always there for
me."

Scully nodded.  "You didn't answer my question."

"Can't we talk about this later, Scully?"

"No, we can't."  Her tone brooked no argument.

I sighed.  I decided to tell the truth, as little of it as I could get
away with and not incriminate myself.  "I was afraid she would say
something ... embarrassing to me, something maybe I'm not ready ...
for you to know."

She looked at me then and I could see the hurt in her eyes.  I was
confiding in another woman, a friend she didn't even know existed. 
Jodie was a friend that knew things that I didn't trust her with.  I
could see all this in her face and I could see how it hurt her.

"I see," she said.

I put my hands on her shoulders and she cringed.  I didn't let go. 
"Look at me, Scully."  Now who wouldn't look who in the eye?

She looked up, trying to mask her hurt but she couldn't.  "It's not
what you think.  There's no one I trust more than you.  You know
everything important about me."

"Is that so?  Then if what she knows isn't important, why wouldn't you
feel you could tell me."

"Because it's too personal."  Wrong thing to say.  She looked
absolutely crushed.  "No!  Damn it.  I don't mean that the way it
sounds."

She jerked away from my hands and circled to the trunk, making a lunge
for one of her suitcases from the open trunk.  I followed her quickly
and pushed it out of her hands, wrapping my arms around her from
behind.  "Stop it, Scully.  Listen to me."

She struggled for a second or two and then went limp.  "I've told her
things about you, Scully, but not personal things you wouldn't want
anyone to know.  I would never do that.  I've told her things that I
... feel for you."  

I paused trying to think of a way to put this without launching into a
discussion we weren't nearly ready to have.  "You can tell this
'friend' how you feel about me, but you can't tell me?  What's wrong
with that picture, Mulder?"

I sighed, pulling her tighter to my chest.  My lips dropped down to
talk into her ear.  "I guess I should correct that, you're right.  But
I'm afraid a lot of the time, Scully."

"Afraid of what?  Me?"

"No, not exactly you."


"Then what?  You aren't making any sense yet, Mulder."

I took a deep breath and decided there was no getting out of this the
easy way.  "I'm afraid of what I feel for you, Scully."  She shivered
in my arms.  I let my lips brush her ear, closing my eyes against the
soft feel of her hair and skin on my face. 

"Mulder?  Let go."

I shook my head against hers, letting my lips brush the shell of her
ear.  She swallowed a whimper and I felt my groin tighten against her
rear end.  "No, you wanted an answer, Scully, you're going to get an
answer.  You insisted.  Be careful what you ask for, Scully.  You may
get it."


She squirmed slightly.  "Mulder, please!"

"Please what?" I asked, inflecting innocence into my voice.  Christ,
it felt so good to tower over her like this and feel her softness
pressed against the length of my body.  I didn't want to let go.

"Let go, I'll let it drop now."

I ignored her and whispered into her ear this time.  My arousal found
it's way into my voice despite my efforts to sound light and
unconcerned.  "I feel a LOT of things for you, Scully.  But you're so
... distant with me sometimes.  I'm afraid to tell you about them.  I
need you in my life, Scully and I don't ever want to scare you away
with what I feel.  Do you understand that?  So I've held back ...
afraid of ... risking what we have.  Because what we have is precious
to me."

Her head fell back against my chest and she relaxed into my embrace. 
I sucked in a breath as her butt pressed into my crotch, feeling the
blood drain from my head and make a quick trip south, stiffening me
against her.  I heard a little gasp from her but she didn't move.  She
was silent and we stood there for several long moments.  Finally, I
said, "So if you were to find out how I feel about you ... I didn't
want you to hear it from Jodie."

I loosened my arms and she tentatively stepped away, not turning to
face me and dragged her suitcase out of the trunk without a word. 
Without turning to look at me, she walked toward the porch.  I hoped I
hadn't ruined everything.  Shit!  Why did this shit always happen to
me?  Why couldn't we just come here and have a nice weekend and enjoy
each other's company?

Damn Jodie and her big mouth anyway.  I felt instantly contrite.  This
was not Jodie's fault.  I should have sworn her to secrecy.  I knew
she wouldn't betray me.  I should have told her before I came that she
was not to repeat anything to Scully of what we had talked about,
especially the last time.

Oh well.  I sighed and slung my duffel bag over my shoulder and yanked
the other two suitcases out of my trunk.  I slammed it shut and
followed Scully up onto the porch.  She had disappeared inside and I
went through the door, kicking it closed behind me.  She was standing
in the middle of the parquet floor of the foyer, staring up at the
balcony above her head and looking at the staircase, first one side
and then the other that ran up the walls.  A chandelier hung dead
center over head in the cathedral ceiling.  I looked about,
experiencing a slight sense of wonder that I owned this place.  

Finally, a low whistle came out of her lips and she turned to face me.
 "Mulder, it's beautiful.  I had no idea the place was so ... big and
so ... beautiful."

I chuckled.  "Dad never was one to deny himself much in the way of
creature comforts, Scully."

She smiled at that.  "Now they could be your creature comforts."

"Nah.  I'd have to leave D.C., my job ... "  I paused.  "I'd have to
leave you Scully and I couldn't do that."

I thought I saw her eyes grow moist before she turned away, picking up
her suitcase again.  "Where should I put this?" she asked, her voice a
little less sure than it was before.

I went towards the stairs, laden down with our suitcases and my duffel
bag and headed up the stairs.  Over my shoulder I said, "Follow me. 
We'll get this out of the way and then I'll give you the dime tour."

PART 4 (R)
FOX MULDER'S HOUSE
GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2001
6:00 PM

Mulder had told me to go ahead and take a bath while he made dinner. 
He had apparently instructed Jodie to stock the fridge and freezer and
she had done just that.  The house was incredible.  It had a kitchen
any chef would drool over with all the modern appliances.  The living
room was decorated in various shades of white with deep pile, shag
carpet and a fireplace on the side wall.  The dining room boasted a
cherry dining set with exquisite dark cherry paneling and antique
buffets.  Mulder had showed me to the guest room, one of three he said
and I had marveled at the beautiful dcor there as well.  It had pink
shag carpet and a canopy bed, with an antique bureau and a lovely
vanity desk with a lighted mirror.  

I had been hard pressed to keep my mouth from hanging open.  I didn't
want to appear to be a nave hick, but God, I'd never known such
beauty and luxury in a home before.  He was nuts not to want to live
here.

He'd said he couldn't leave.  He said he felt things for me that he
was afraid to express.  Did all that mean what I thought it meant? 
Did it mean what I wanted it to mean?  I had realized that I had
crossed a mental line somewhere and was thinking of him in a different
light.  My utter acceptance of the fact that I wanted more from him
was a little startling.  Shouldn't I be more upset about wanting that
sort of thing from my partner?  Shouldn't I be more ... something?


The feeling of calm acceptance about the strong emotions that were
surging through me was a foreign thing.  I'd never felt so ... SURE
... of myself, so sure of how I felt before.  I was in love with him,
there was no doubt about it.

The stab of horrendous jealousy that ripped through me when he
embraced that woman had nearly taken my breath away.  She was older
than us by a few years, yes.  But she was his 'type', or what I had
come to think of as his type.  She was tall, brunette with a shapely
figure and dark eyes, and rather well endowed in the chest area.  

I'd almost given myself away.  I had to him.  He'd seen it.  Later,
I'd been slightly embarrassed at my squeal of delight when I saw the
enormous sunken bathtub in the master bath, that doubled as a Jacuzzi.
 He knew how I loved my baths.  Mulder had laughed at my reaction,
affection and amusement shining in his eyes when I'd turned to look at
him.  I was hit with how utterly handsome and sexy he was, especially
when he laughed.  It had been an effort to tear my eyes away from his
face.  I got into that tub and stayed in there until my skin was
pruned with moisture.  

I had dressed in a light pull over sweater and worn jeans when I heard
a rap on the bedroom door.  "Come in."

He swung the door open and shook his head as he saw me heading for the
vanity with a towel on my head and my make up bag in the other.  He
strode to me and coaxed the bag out of my hand and set it on the
vanity.  I looked up with him with a question on my face.  He smiled
and reached up to pull the towel off my head.

My hair fell in damp waves around my face and down my neck.  His
fingers reached for my temples and plunged into my hair, smoothing it
back away from my face.  I nearly staggered at the tingles that went
shooting down my spine as the heat of his hands penetrated my scalp. 
He didn't stop, just continued running his fingers through my hair
slowly, until all the tangles were out.  My head was lolling around on
my shoulder by then.  I was unable to keep from expressing how good it
felt.  He was behind me when he finished and his hands dropped to my
shoulders.  I tipped my head back into his chest, placing the crown of
my head on his sternum and looking up into his smiling face. 

His voice was low and soft when he uttered, "Don't blow dry it.  I
like it wavy."  He paused.  "Don't put make up on."

My look questioned him.  "It's just us, Scully.  Leave it.  You don't
need it."

I stood up and turned to face him.  "But Mulder, I'm used to ..."

He cut me off shaking his head, "Forget what you're used to.  You're
here to relax and enjoy yourself.  There's no one to impress here."

I chuckled and couldn't resist teasing him.  "What if I want to
impress you?"

He smiled a sly smile.  His thumb came up to brush across the mole
above my lip and my hand flew to cover it up.  "You'll impress me if
you don't use make up all weekend."

"I hate that mole," I said, not really knowing why I blurted that
out.

"I like it," he mumbled.

I looked up at him.  "Why would you like a mole, Mulder?  They're
hideous, especially to a woman."

He smiled another lazy smile.  "I love it because it's part of your
face, Scully, part of you.  And I love your beautiful face.  I could
stare at it all day."  This was said softly but with confidence.  Oh
boy, was he pouring on the charm.  These were not things he ever said
to me.  I felt myself grow warm under his unswerving regard.  

"It's still a mole, Mulder," I tried to sound flippant but it fell
flat.  

"It's a beauty mark," he replied.

"Whatever, it's ..." 

I nearly yelped when he leaned over suddenly and pressed his lips over
my mole, sucking gently before letting go.  His voice was gravel when
he said, "It's beautiful, I like it.  Dinner's ready.  Come on down."

He turned and left, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging
open, trying to regain my breath that was now panting out of my lungs.
 My hardened nipples stung from their sudden inflation at the soft
touch of his lips against my face.  He'd been so close to my lips. 
His action was so out of character.  I hadn't been prepared.  I never
thought he'd be bold like that.  Guess I'd opened a can of worms with
the whole feelings thing, huh?

Time to pay the piper.  He was going to let me know, little by little.
 He'd seen my hurt when I knew that he had confided in Jodie and not
me.  And he was out to correct it, show me that he was willing to
trust me, at least trying to trust me with his feelings.  Be careful
what you ask for, Dana, indeed.  I was going to get it, and get it
good.

I hoped I could handle it without making a complete ass out of myself.
 I steadied myself and made my way downstairs, throwing my head back
in a classic move of projecting confidence and strode into the dining
room.  The smell of freshly cooked steak assaulted my nose and my
mouth watered.  There were two steaks laid out on a platter, a bowl
with four baked potatoes and a bowl with corn in it.  The table was
set with china and exquisite silverware.  The lights were out and two
red candles burned in the center of the bowls.  The table was long and
large.  He had set a place at the head of the table and another
immediately to his left.  A candle light dinner.  Was he trying to be
romantic or just playing because he could?

I was still staring at the set up when he entered with two wine
glasses and an open bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, perfect with steak. 
He grinned at me and set the glasses down, waving toward the chair at
the side of the table.  I approached slowly as he poured the wine and
placed one in front of each plate.  When I arrived beside him, he
pulled out the chair and I sat.  He scooted me back up to the table
and then sat himself. 

"Mulder, you didn't have to do all this."  My voice was barely above
whisper, and I cleared my throat immediately afterwards.

He merely smiled at me.  "I know, I wanted to."

"I didn't know you could cook."

He laughed good-naturedly at that and reached for the steak with a
fork, stabbing it and placing it on my plate.  He stabbed a potato and
did the same and then spooned up some corn as well.  Then he turned to
his own plate.  He caught me staring at him and said, "Eat, before it
gets cold.  I did yours well done, the way you like it."

I picked up my silverware and began to cut up the steak, wondering how
he knew that I liked my steak well done. It was perfect, cooked all
the way through, no pink, but not burnt anywhere.  I salted it lightly
and put a little pepper as well and put margarine on my corn and
potato that I proceeded to empty out and mash into my plate.  He
watched with amusement as I placed a dollop of butter in each half of
the potato skins that I had carefully hollowed out, salting and
peppering each with just a dash of condiment.  I looked up to see him
grinning at me.

"What?"

His grin grew wider.  "I just love to watch you.  You are so ...
precise about so many things."  I blushed and looked down at my plate,
suddenly embarrassed.  He continued.  "Don't stop on my account."  He
started cutting up his own steak which I noticed was slightly pink in
the center.

"You like yours medium?"  He nodded.  "How did you know I liked mine
well done?"

He said, "How many times have we eaten together, Scully?"

"Countless, but we're usually on the road."

"Yes, we are.  But I pay attention when you order.  I know what you
like."

"Why would you care what I like to eat?"

He looked up finished chewing a piece of meat.  Then he quipped, "In
case I ever had the opportunity to try and please you with my secret
knowledge."

I grinned and began eating.  "Oh this is delicious!"  I exclaimed.  He
grinned and nodded.

"Glad you like it, eat up."

We ate in silence for a while and sipped our wine, occasionally
peeking at one another and flashing smiles each other's way.  When we
were finished, he told me to stay put and disappeared into the
kitchen.

He returned with whipped raspberry cheesecake that melted in my mouth.
 He admitted that Jodie had left that.  His culinary skills did not
extend to baking.  I was absolutely stuffed at the end of it and
collapsed back in my chair, groaning and holding my stomach.  He
grinned at me and held out a hand, hoisting me to my feet.  We cleared
the table and did the dishes, chatting about the case that was coming
up on Monday.  

When we were finished, he turned to look at me.  He opened his mouth
as if to say something but then closed it and just continued to look
at me.  I became self conscious and asked him, "What, what are you
looking at?"

"You, just thinking."

"Thinking about what?"  I knew that was a dangerous question.  I
really had to get a padlock on my tongue.  Be careful what you ask
for, Dana.

"I love this."

"What?"

He shrugged.  "Spending time with you outside work.  I love eating
with you, relaxing with you, doing something as normal and mundane as
the dishes with you.  It almost makes me think sometimes that we could
be ... normal."

I chuckled and quipped, "We are a lot of things, Mulder, but normal
isn't one of them."

He grinned then but there was a sadness behind it and I felt myself
drawn to him.  He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning on the
counter.  His black turtleneck was tucked into his worn, black jeans. 
He was wearing black boots.  He looked dark and mysterious, a lock of
his thick chestnut hair falling across his forehead.  God he was sexy,
especially in a relaxed pose like this.

I stepped to his side and he unlaced one arm and held it out.  I
hesitated but then stepped into him, pressing my front to his side and
sliding my arms around his waist.  His arms fell on my shoulders and
curled around me, pulling my torso into his.  He surprised me again
when he dropped a chaste kiss onto the top of my head.  He was so much
taller than I was.  I forgot that sometimes.  I was always wearing
three inch heels around him.  Now I was in my sneakers.  I felt his
chest rumble against my breasts as he spoke again.

"I know we'll never be normal, Scully, not completely.  But sometimes
I wish there was some ... balance in my life."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I run around chasing weird things all day, drowning in
frustration and need that never gets fulfilled.  Then I go home to an
empty apartment and eat alone, wishing there was someone there to talk
to about the events of the day.  I hate eating alone.  I hate watching
TV alone, wishing there was someone to share it with, just simple
things."

He paused and took a deep breath.  His chest was warm and seeping into
my breasts.  The rumble of his chest as his baritone voice flowed out
was lulling me into a dangerous state of relaxation.  "Most normal
people have stressful jobs, and crazy careers, maybe not as crazy as
ours, but crazy and stressful nonetheless.  But then they get to home
to someone.  Have someone hold them at night ... kiss away the tension
... make love to them after a hard day."

I shuddered uncontrollably.  His words were hitting home.  They were
thoughts I'd had myself and dismissed as silly.  I had chosen my path
and I had too much pride to admit that it wasn't always enough.  I
longed for those things too.  A sense of normalcy after a crazy day. 
The comfort of companionship when I walked through the door at night.
And yes, someone to make love to me.  It had been so long!  I snuggled
closer to his side and he nuzzled the top of my head with his cheek. 
"This is so nice, Scully."

"Hmmm?"

"Holding you, feeling you relaxed against me, sated from a good meal,
nothing to do for the rest of the evening.  No pressing phone calls,
files to read, nothing."

"We have files to read."

"Yup.  And we'll start that Monday morning.  From now on, no more talk
of the case until Monday, O.K.?  We are going to forget that the FBI
and D.C. exist and we are going to be normal for the next two days."

I chuckled.  "Define normal, Mulder.  Your idea of normal and mine
might be two different things!"

He chuckled and I loved the sound of it.  "Let's go sit on the couch. 
I'll build a fire, you can pour some more wine."

"O.K."  I slowly pulled away from him, missing the heat of his body,
the imprint of it lingering on my body.  He smiled down at me and
dropped another kiss on my forehead.  I was surprised at my acceptance
of this new level of connection.  We didn't usually touch this much,
or kiss this much, even these chaste kisses he was giving me.  He was
testing my boundaries, I knew he was.  Each time I didn't stop him or
react badly, I was giving permission for him to escalate this 'thing'
between us.  And I knew it.  And he knew it.  He smiled gently and
pushed away from the counter.  

I watched his jeans hug his thighs and ass as he walked away.  He was
so graceful and comfortable in his lanky frame.  I retrieved the wine
from the fridge and poured two more glasses.  I made my way into the
living room in time to see him lighting the paper under the grate in
the fireplace and standing to open the flu.  The smoke curled and was
sucked up the chimney, the paper igniting the kindling he'd laid down
and soon catching the wood.  A small blaze was going in no time.

I inhaled deeply, smelling the wood smoke.  "I love that smell."

"Hmm," he responded and sat down close to me on the couch and reclined
a little.  He looked at me for all of two seconds and then scooted
over and toed off his boots, leaning against the armrest.  I raised an
eyebrow at him and he motioned me toward him.  I sat my wine down and
toed off my sneakers, knowing I probably shouldn't get to comfortable
with him.  Hugging him in the bright kitchen was one thing.  Reclining
into his arms on the sofa in front of a fire was another thing
entirely.  He pressed his hip to the back of the couch, making more
room for me and I tentatively reclined against his arm, laying on my
back.  He adjusted again so he was laying on his side, his arm
supporting my neck and I sighed as I looked over at him.

He was staring at me again and I couldn't continue to meet his eyes. 
"Scully?"

"What?"  My voice was breathy and I cursed my traitorous body's
reaction to being this close to him.  His hand slid across my abdomen,
and his hand cupped my waist on the far side.  He hesitated but then
let the weight of his arm fall onto my stomach.  He squirmed and
snuggled in close.

"Tell me about something you want to do in your life that you've never
gotten to do."  That wasn't what I expected, but I relaxed, knowing
that he wasn't going to push this like I thought he might.

"Hmmm.  Let's see.  I've always wanted to go to New Orleans.  My
father was an architecture buff, somewhat of a hobby for him.  He used
to always talk about the beautiful architecture to be seen there.  He
filled my head with stories of sultry summer nights and mansions in
the Garden District.  He talked about Bourbon Street and the jazz
there that was like no where else in the world.  He talked about the
wonderful theaters and the churches that would take your breath away
with their artwork and architectural splendor.  He made it sound like
a wonderland for the senses."

Mulder nodded, causing his head to snuggle nicely into the groove
between my shoulder and neck.  His hot breath bathed the skin of my
neck and I felt my breasts grow heavy.  Good lord.  He wasn't even
doing anything, just ... breathing on me and my body was reacting. 
His voice rumbled out against my chest.  "Sounds wonderful.  We should
go there together some time, take in the sights, stay in the Rue
Royale, tour the French quarter."

"Have you ever been there?"

"Once.  Unfortunately, I was on a serial killer case during my early
days with VCS and I didn't have time to really look around much. 
Marti Gras was approaching and the authorities were terrified of the
havoc this guy could reek in that atmosphere.  People could disappear
for days during that time and no one would even be suspicious.  It
isn't uncommon for people to get boozed and drugged up and disappear
around that time.  They usually return a few days later, hung over and
in need of a shower, but none the worse for wear.  But with a killer
on the loose, it would be a perfect opportunity to snatch multiple
people and no one would even miss them for several days."

"Is that what happened?"

"Naw.  I told them he wouldn't do that, take multiple victims in a
short span of time."

"Why not?"

"I knew him, unfortunately.  My instincts and profile told me that he
liked to play with his victims, terrorize them before he killed them. 
He liked to keep them alive for several days, taunting them with their
imminent death.  He would like to hear them beg for mercy."

I shivered and this time not from the warmth of his body.  He grunted.
 "Sorry.  Too much information.  Anyway, he wasn't a quickie killer,
basically.  Snatching and killing quickly would have taken all the fun
out of it for him.  As it was, we caught him two days before Mardi
Gras and everyone was happy."

I nodded, not wanting to ask any more questions about that.  "Sorry, I
shouldn't have gone into that much detail."

"No, it's all right, but like you said, I'd like to leave work behind
for a couple of days."

"Hard to though, isn't it?  It's such a part of our life."

"It is our life, Mulder."

He nodded solemnly.  I felt it against my shoulder and shivered again
as his razor stubble abraded my skin.  His hand came up and he ran his
thumb over my collarbone, his arm lying between my breasts.  This was
so ... intimate, this position we were in.  It was starting to make me
uncomfortable.  At the same time, I felt a trickle of excitement and
seemed frozen in place.


He talked as he rubbed his thumb back and forth over my collar bone as
if nothing unusual was happening and he did this sort of thing every
day.  "What else?  What else would you like to have say, in the next
five years."

"A house of my own."

"Like this one?  I'll give it to you if you want."

I laughed.  "What would I do with a house this size?"  The
overwhelming thing was that I knew he meant it.  If I asked for it, he
would sign this house over to me in a heartbeat.  It meant nothing to
him, all this splendor, and all this money.  God, I loved that about
him.  He was not caught up the material world as most people were.  He
didn't measure his success by the amount of toys he had.  In fact, he
had very few toys, or so I'd thought before now.  I wondered what
other surprises he had waiting for me in the future.  He owned the
house on the Vineyard too.

"You could live in it, raise a family here."  

I felt tears sting the back of my eyes.  A family, something I would
never have.  Well, I had my family but I would never have one of my
own, hear the pitter patter of little feet.  I swallowed thickly
around the lump in my throat.

"You know I couldn't do that, Mulder."  I was hurt that he would tease
me with that vision.


"Why not?"

"Why not?!" I nearly shouted, my voice laced with hurt and tears that
I wished hadn't come through.  He squeezed me tightly with the arm
around my shoulders and said.

"Hey, hey.  I didn't mean to hurt you.  I mean that, well, you could
adopt children, Scully.  You were going to adopt ... Emily."  He
hesitated before saying her name.  "Why couldn't you adopt another? 
Or two?  There are hundreds of kids out there that need love.  And
you're the most loving woman I know.  You would be a terrific mother,
Scully."

The tears I was trying so valiantly to contain fell then.  I should
have known he would never say something intentionally callous to me. 
I'd jumped to conclusions again, my sensitivities overtaking me.  I
knew intellectually that it was wrong.  But my inability to have
children had severely damaged my ability to think of myself as a
desirable mate or wife for any man.  I felt less than whole, less than
complete, damaged goods.

He murmured in my ear, turning my body into his, and pressing my chest
to his.  "Shhh, oh Scully, I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have brought that
up.  I'm such an ass!  Don't cry.  Please don't cry."

I sniffled against him, letting the tears come and clinging to him
with a fierceness I hadn't displayed in many years.  He held me just
as tightly and continued cooing in my ear.  "Oh, Scully, I'm so sorry.
 Shhh, forget what I said.  I hate it when you cry, but let it out.  
You need to let it out.  You never have really, have you?"

I shook my head confirming his statement and let the sobs come.  He
held me tightly pressed to his body.  He pulled up slightly on his
elbow and tipped his body over me, one leg coming over mine to anchor
me from falling off the couch and anchoring me to his body.  I felt
surrounded by him and safe as I let the misery come as I never had
before.  I had stuffed it down behind the anger and the useless rage
and bitterness, never letting the loss of my womanhood really see the
light of day.  I was afraid that it would utterly destroy me if I ever
let it out.  

But I was letting it out and it was O.K.  It was O.K., because I was
protected and safe and being shielded ... by Mulder.  He would always
shield me if he could.  I could let it out here, safely with him
wrapped around me and not fear that I would dissolve into
nothingness.

The hard planes of his body reminded me that I was still here, still
alive, despite my losses and my misery.  His fingers tunneled into my
hair and he coaxed me to lie flat, propping himself on one hip.  His
arms, relieved now of their previous duty of preventing me from
falling off the couch, came up to furiously wipe the tears off my
cheeks.  I quieted some and sniffled, blinking rapidly, the hot tears
still coming.  I stuttered, "Oh God, I'm sorry, Mulder."

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for breaking down, sorry for being so morose when we are
supposed to be relaxing and enjoying ourselves.  Jesus, I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for.  I'm flattered you are comfortable enough
with me to let it out. I've been waiting for it for a long time."

"Waiting for what?"

"The explosion of all those suppressed emotions."

"Don't analyze me, Mulder."

"I'm not. I just knew you were hurting and I knew somehow that you'd
never really given vent to your sorrow.  I just hoped that I would be
there to catch you when it finally broke loose.  It was bound to
someday."

I nodded and the tears dried up some.  He wiped them gently once more
and let his body fall onto mine, covering one whole side of me.  I was
immediately infused with his heat, the other side of my body cold and
aching for that heat.  He stared into my face.  I didn't know what to
say.  I smiled an embarrassed smile.  "What are you doing, Mulder?"

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.  He
whispered, "I have no idea."

I laughed then and he did too.  I tipped my head back looking at the
ceiling and then squealed as I felt his lips touch my throat, and his
tongue flick out to gently lap at my pulse.  He stopped, his hot
breath bathing my neck again.  I was frozen.  He was waiting to see if
I would stop him.  I should lower my head, I should not be exposing my
neck in offering like this, but I couldn't move.  

After a few moments of silence, he slowly lowered his head to my neck
again and began showering it with little kisses.  Trailing his hot
lips across my collar bone and up the column of my neck.  He moved on
to the area under my ear.  "Oh!" I breathed out when his tongue lapped
at the tender area.  He slowly placed his lips around my earlobe and
sucked gently, swirling his tongue over the small flap of flesh there.
 I moaned as warmth flooded my abdomen and my nipples grew hard. 
Jesus Christ!  What was he doing?  What was I letting him do?  Stop
him, Dana.  Stop him.

His razor stubble raked across my cheek as he slid his head over my
face and lifted just far enough to look into my eyes.  The question
was written in every line of his face.  He panted gently, his hazel
eyes bright, his lids hooded.  Desire, holy shit, that was a look of
desire.  It hit me like a hammer blow.  He wanted me.  I knew it, sort
of.  But to see it was a shock.  He wasn't hiding it.  He wanted me. 
He looked at me and saw a desirable woman. I was a little blown away
by that.  I was damaged, I was not his type, and I was his partner.

He blinked slowly and as if he'd read my mind he said, "God, Scully,
if I could describe my perfect woman, I just show people a picture of
you."

I gasped.  "Per... hardly perfect, Mulder."

"To me you are," he murmured. 

He was still for a moment but then shifted again to cover the other
half of my body, covering my torso with his as he centered himself
above me and took his weight on his elbows.  His leg gently bumped
mine, coaxing it to fall to the side and he let his weight down into
the cradle of my hips.  We both moaned at the feeling of our pelvis'
crushed together.  He was hot and hard and I could feel him pulsing
right through his jeans and mine.  His eyes were closed.

"Scully?"

"What?"

His eyes opened.  "Can I kiss you?"

"You already did."

"No, that was just a ... nibble."

"Nibble?" I asked, having to suppress my urge to laugh.  He looked so
perfectly serious.  Then he grinned.

"Can I give you a real kiss?"

"Real kiss?"

He nodded, not willing to drag out the teasing game.  His face grew
serious and one hand came up to brush his fingers over my lips.  He
murmured, "You're so beautiful, Scully.  God, you have no idea what
you do to me, do you?"

I shook my head, not really sure if I wanted to know in detail.  I
could feel one detail pulsing against my belly and making my pelvis
wash with moisture and ache for that little detail.  Well, not so
little I realized as he slowly swiveled his hips and firmly pressed
his entire length into my belly and ground himself into my juncture. 
I groaned, "Oh God, Mulder."

"That's only part of what you do to me, Scully."

"What else?" Those words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop
them.

"You can't see the other things, or feel them."

"Like what?"

"My heart racing, my chest getting tight, my mouth drying out like a
desert."  He licked his lips then, never taking his eyes off me.  I
could feel myself flushing from the chest up and tried to look away. 
His hands captured my head and wouldn't allow it.

He head dipped down near my ear again.  "You don't see my panic every
time I don't know where you are, Scully.  You don't feel my rage and
jealousy every time another man looks at you like you are a meal.  You
don't feel my stomach turn over every time you touch me."

He paused, his breathing heavy now.  "When you're hurt or injured or
sick, you don't feel my agony knowing I might lose you.  But the
biggest thing of all ..."

"What?"

"The worst thing I've hidden from you ..."

"Tell me," I whispered.  I didn't seem to be able to curb my curiosity
at this point.  I wanted to know.  

"I hide how much you mean to me, Scully, afraid you don't feel the
same.  I didn't want you to know how easily you could destroy me, how
easily you could break my heart."

"Break your heart?" I whispered.

He took a huge breath and breathed into my ear, "I'm in love with you,
Scully."  His voice vibrated deep in my ear.  "That's the secret I
didn't want Jodie to tell you.  I was waiting for her to blurt it
out."

The words were tumbling out of him now, in a nervous fashion.  As
though if he kept talking, he wouldn't have to face my response to his
declaration.  My heart was slamming against my rib cage.  I couldn't
see his face as it was buried in my hair, his lips to my ears.  "She's
the only one I ever told.  I told her I was in love with you, Scully. 
But I never told her you didn't know.  She thought, she thought we
were couple.  And I ... I didn't disabuse her of the notion.  It was
like ... talking to her I could pretend it was true.  I could pretend
you were mine.  I wanted it so much."

He panted quickly a couple times as though trying to stop tears and
then continued.  "I still do, Scully.  I still want it so much.  I'm
sorry I hurt you earlier but I just imagined Jodie saying, 'He's told
me how much he loves you.'"  He hiccuped, his chest rolling against
mine.  "If you heard it from her, I would have died, and I knew you
would have been so angry."

He slid his arms under my shoulders then and clutched me to him,
letting his weight down on my body.  I sank into the cushions and held
onto him tight.  As if of their own accord, my legs spread and came up
around his waist.  He sunk against me, his erection still there
through all his emotional turmoil.  He was apparently ignoring it, so
I did too.  He cried softly against me for a few moments and then
said, "Can you forgive me for telling her first.  I'm so sorry,
Scully."

I was overcome with affection and love for him in that moment.  He
practically worshipped me.  I was afraid someday that I would let him
down.  That was one of my biggest fears, one of my biggest secrets.  I
practically lived to make him feel safe and happy.  He calmed and just
breathed gently against me.  I was warm now, a light sheen of sweat
covering my chest and face.  I blew my bangs out of my eyes and he
lifted his head.  His face was ravaged with a mixture of relief and
fear.  I hadn't tossed him off my body yet, but I hadn't really
responded yet either. 

He just looked at me, waiting.  For what, I wasn't sure.  He swallowed
and looked down then when I didn't respond.  He flashed a look of
annoyance, for himself I think and levered up onto his arms as though
he would get off me.  He confirmed it by saying, "I better move.  I'm
sorry, Scully.  I shouldn't have ..."

I stopped him with a hand on the back of his neck. I tugged gently and
his head came down to me.  My free hand slid around to his back and I
pressed between his shoulder blades.  He tentatively lowered himself
on top of me again, our groins still pressed together, my legs still
around his waist.  He took a deep breath, just watching my face.  

I pulled him down and captured his bottom lip between my own.  I
worried it gently with my teeth and then sucked firmly.  He groaned
hoarsely and his mouth opened wide and covered mine.  His tongue
pushed into my mouth and explored every corner.  I moaned into his
mouth and he tipped my head for a better angle and deepened the kiss,
playing with my tongue, lapping it and sucking on it.

We pulled away when there was oxygen left to be had.  His eyes were
dark with arousal.  His pupils dilated and his mouth slack.  "God,
Scully," he murmured.

I was struggling to get my breathing under control and pressed gently
on his chest.  He quickly lifted off of me and swung around to sit on
the couch.  His head flopped onto the back of the couch and he
breathed heavily, his eyes closed.  "Mulder?"

"Yeah?" 

"Are you O.K.?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me.  "Yeah, I'm
sorry.  I got carried away."

"That's all right.  I let you."


He nodded.  "Are we O.K.?"

"Yeah, we're O.K.  I just, don't really know what to say right now."

He chuckled a bit.  "Me neither."

He frowned.  I spoke softly, incapable of anything else.  "I've hurt
you, haven't I?"


"What do you mean?  You've delighted me.  You just let me kiss you ...
for real.  I never dreamed I'd get to do that."  He paused. 
"Correction, I've dreamed about it a lot of times, but never expected
it to ever happen."

I grinned then.  "It was ... extraordinary."

He focused on me again then, sharply, his eyes narrowing.  "Yeah?"

"Yeah," I whispered.

He smiled then.  "Does that mean I might get to do it again
sometime?"

I laughed then.  "I'm sure you will."

He gave me the full blown Mulder grin then, teeth and all and I felt
something I hadn't felt in a long time ... joy.  I realized how good I
felt about me when I made him happy.  How happy could I make him if I
let him touch me, skin to skin?  I shivered at the thought of it.  How
happy would I make him if I let him make love to me?  I bit my tongue
to keep from moaning.  He was staring off into space and then asked
suddenly.


"When?"

"When?"

"Yeah, when will I be able to kiss you again?"

I laughed.  I couldn't help it.  He sounded like a school boy who
before giving his first kiss asked, "Are you ready?"  I burst into
giggles at that thought.  He grinned at my amusement and shook his
head.

"I'm not sure, Mulder." I managed to choke out.

He nodded, his smile fading.  He nodded again.  "Maybe we should go to
bed."

"It's early."

"I know, but if I sit here too much longer, I ..."

I understood.  I stood up.  "How about a short walk outside.  It's a
beautiful night and I'd like to look at the stars."

"You want to look at the stars, Scully?"  He was obviously teasing. 
"Don't you get enough of that during the week?"

I laughed again.  "Come on, get your coat."

He stood and I pretended not to notice when he winced and yanked on
the leg of his jeans to give his groin more room.  I smirked to myself
and turned away, not wanting to embarrass him if he saw that I
noticed.  Poor guy.  He was probably going to want to take care of
that at some point.  That thought made me grin.

He came alongside me and asked, "What are you grinning about?"

"Oh nothing.  Let's go for that walk."

He strode by me and grabbed our coats that we had hung in the foyer in
the coat closet and he held mine up while I slipped my arms into it. 
He shrugged into his leather jacket, looking for all the world, like a
dark knight in his all black clothing and black leather bomber jacket.
 He opened the door and ushered me outside.  He gave me a tour of the
grounds, showing me the swimming pool I had failed to notice before. 
It was buttoned up for the winter now.  I wished it was summer and we
could go swimming.  Would I be brave enough to wear a bikini in front
of him?

I blushed, grateful for the darkness hiding my unwarranted thoughts
and reactions.  He talked about the history of the place, the few
times he'd been here with his dad, how Jodie had been so loyal to his
father but untouched by his shenanigans in the government.  She was
blissfully ignorant of her employer's shady activities.  I became
grateful that she had been a friend to him when he needed one.  The
way he spoke of her, she treated him more like a son, despite that she
was probably only seven or eight years older than he was.  That was
more of a relief to me than I was willing to cop to at that moment.  I
would keep that little feeling to myself for now.

Just the thought that she would want to touch him had made me furious
and green with jealousy.  But apparently my reactions had been for
naught.  He had no interest in her that way, I could tell by the way
he spoke of her. He respected her and appreciated her friendship but
that was as far as it went.

Finally, the wind picked up and my nose was getting cold.  I laughed
when he pulled me to him and locked his lips over the end of my nose,
bathing it with his warm tongue.  I wrinkled my nose in mock disgust
and we'd laughed as we trotted back to the front of the house and
stood on the porch gazing up at the stars.  The night was clear and
cold and the sky was full of bright white lights.  He stepped behind
me and wrapped his arms around me.  I sighed and relaxed back into his
chest, enjoying just being with him like this.  I could get used to
this, I thought.  I could get really used to this without much effort
at all.