From ZZCF89A@prodigy.com Fri Oct 04 09:14:05 1996
Disclaimer: Chris Carter, 10-13, Fox.  Not me.  

Warnings: There's some bad language, but nothing serious.  Nothing you 
wouldn't hear on the playground, though I guess it depends on where you 
live.  By the MPAA rating system, 2 f-words = R rated, but  I don't buy 
into that.  So you can judge for yourself.  No, this wasn't *really* 
inspired by that does Scully swear thread.

Please send comments!!!  my email is zzcf89a@prodigy.com
_________________
Break Time
by Megan Reilly
zzcf89a@prodigy.com
Sept. 7, 1996
_________________

"Shit!"

Mulder glanced up from the research book he was reading when he heard  
Scully's curse from out in the hall.  Oh, he thought, maybe I should have 
told her the copy machine is acting up.  He quickly buried his nose in 
the book as she reentered their office.

"Fuck!"

Mulder glanced up again, frowning, when he heard her mutter under her 
breath.  She whacked the computer, hard, and he lowered his eyes before 
she could catch him.  Scully got up and stalked out of the room.

"God *damn* it!"

When he heard what sounded like her fist impacting the vending machine at 
the end of the hall, and then her howl of pain, Mulder knew it was time 
to act.  He got up and walked out of the office, but she had already gone.


He extracted the rumpled dollar bill the vending machine had rejected and 
refed it into the slot, then studied the choices.  What would Scully like?
 he wondered, and realized he'd never seen her patronize this vending 
machine before.  He selected Hostess mini-donuts, E-2, thinking that a 
little chocolate sometimes went a long way.  Then he mounted the stairs 
to find her.

She was sitting out on one of the stone benches, with her arms wrapped 
around her knees as she stared off into the distance.  She didn't look up 
when he approached.  He sat down next to her and found that the bench was 
both cold and damp.  "Needed a break?"

No answer.  He poked her with the donut package and tried again.  "I got 
the machine to take your dollar."

"Figures," she muttered under her breath.

"Scully, is something wrong?"  Mulder asked.  She didn't answer.  "Here." 
 He put the package into her hands.  "Maybe you'll feel better..."

She looked down at the donuts and refused to accept them.  "Do you know 
how much fat these have?" she asked.

He shot her a grin.  "It's the thought that counts."

Scully got up then and started to walk away without a word.  Mulder 
frowned after her.  Was it something he'd said?  How could it be?  
"Scully, what's wrong?"

She stopped, and turned and looked at him, placing her hands on her hips. 
 "What time is it, Mulder?"

"Eleven thirty."

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Sunday."  That wasn't it.  He tried again.  "The...twenty third?  Of 
February."  She nodded, sighed, and started walking again.  "Scully, 
where're you going?"

"Home."

"Why?"

"I'm tired, Mulder, it's late."

"But that case report is due on Skinner's desk at nine tomorrow morning.
"

"Fuck Skinner.  Fuck all of them."

At least she'd stopped walking.  "Scully?" Mulder asked, thinking he had 
to have misheard her, or else something was very wrong.  He'd never heard 
her use that sort of language before, never.

She looked at him over her shoulder.  "Know what, Mulder?  Fuck you too." 
 Her heeled shoes clattered as her pace increased.

Mulder jogged after her and caught up to her easily.  He put his hands on 
her shoulders, and she stopped, her entire body rigid.  "All right, 
that's enough.  What is it?"  She glared at him.  "Whatever it is, you 
can tell me."  He rubbed her shoulders lightly, feeling all of the 
tension she carried there.

She let her head droop, looking down at her shoes and he continued to 
massage her muscles.  "...forgot my birthday," she mumbled.

Mulder froze.  "Oh my God, Scully, I'm sorry."

She shrugged.  "It's OK," she said, like it didn't matter.  "Everybody 
else forgot too."  She looked sad for a just a moment, and then her face 
changed.  "I'm going home."  She broke away from him and hurried on her 
way.

He let her go.

Damn him, she thought, he let her go.

+++++

She'd been drowsy in the hot bath, but now, lying in her bed in her blue 
satin pajamas, she couldn't sleep.  She turned her head and looked at the 
clock.  11:59.  At least this rotten day would be over soon.

Another year older.  Who the hell cares? she thought.  Maybe she should 
have a glass of wine, maybe it'd put her to sleep.  Trouble was, she 
didn't want to drink, not alone.  She didn't want to be alone any more.

11:59.  She stared at the clock, waiting for it to change and free her.

There was a soft knock at the door.  She waited for it to go away.  She 
waited for the clock to change.  The knock came again and she dragged 
herself out of bed.  "Who is it?" she called, reaching for her gun as she 
put her hand on the deadbolt.

"It's me.  Mulder."

She yanked the door open.  "What are you..."  The words died on her lips 
as she saw what he held in his hands.

A cake.  With one candle glowing on the top.  Tears flooded her eyes as 
he looked at her hopefully.  "Can I come in?" he asked.

"You didn't have to do this," she said.

"I wanted to.  Now can I come in?"

"Sure."  Scully moved aside, and he strode into her apartment, placing 
the cake on her coffee table.  She closed the door behind him and threw 
the bolt again.  Mulder stood next to the table, looking at her 
expectantly, his shiny in the light of the candle.  She didn't know what 
to do or say.

"Do you feel better now?" Mulder asked, hope apparent on his face.

"No."

"No?"

"You felt obligated, that's the only reason why you're here."

"That sounds like self-pity," Mulder said and she wanted to smack him.  
Of course it was self pity, wasn't she entitled?

"Maybe you'd better go," she said, staring him down, crossing her arms 
angrily.

"Not until you make a wish and blow out the candle."

"I don't believe in wishing."

"Just blow out the damned candle, Scully,"  Mulder ordered, watching her.


Defiantly, she stomped over and blew hard on the candle.  It went out, 
and suddenly the room was dark.  A moment of silence passed between them.


"What'd you wish for?" asked Mulder.

"That's it," Scully cried, exasperated, "Out!"

"Aren't you going to turn on a light?  And eat a piece of cake?"

Scully snapped on the light and looked at her partner.

He just looked back.  "You know, Scully," he said in a low voice that 
made her skin tingle.  "Those are really nice pajamas."

She felt her face flush as she looked down at herself.  She hadn't 
realized...but Mulder had seen her pajamas before.  Giving up, she sank 
down on the couch.  "That's more like it," he told her with a cute grin.  
"I'll go grab a knife."  He shot her another look.  "Unless you were 
thinking of using that on the cake?"

Scully looked down and saw she was still clutching her gun in her hands.  
"Um, no," she admitted, and set the weapon aside.  Mulder nodded and 
disappeared into her kitchen.  He had gone to a lot of trouble, she 
thought, and that was sweet.  She ought to at least be nice to him.

"I found this on the counter," Mulder said, brandishing the wine as he re-
entered the room.  "I don't know if red wine goes with chocolate cake, 
but..."

"What the heck,"  Scully said and she could feel the look he gave her.  
She looked over at him deliberately and saw him biting his lips on a grin.
  "What?"

"That sounds more like you."

"What?  Oh.  Sorry about the language earlier."  She lay her head back 
against the couch.

"No, it's OK," Mulder told her.  "Proves you're human."

"I wasn't aware there was any doubt," she snapped, and then winced at the 
sarcastic words.  She didn't want to think about the X-Files, not now.

He sat down very close to her on the couch and cut an enormous slice of 
cake, placing it on the plate he'd brought, and handed it to her.  "I 
can't eat all this," she protested.

"I'll help you," he said, handing her a fork and taking the other one 
himself.  She set the plate on her knee and took a tiny bite of the cake. 
 

"Ohhhh...that's good," she murmured.

Mulder reached jerkily for the wine.  "I forgot to bring glasses," he 
said, shifting to get up.

"Who cares?" Scully said, picking up the bottle and drinking directly 
from it.  She shivered as the alcohol went down and she suddenly felt 
lightheaded.  She was too tired to be drinking.  She set the bottle 
heavily on the table again and blinked at Mulder.  "What are you waiting 
for?" she asked.

"Huh?"  He'd been lost in thought.

"Cake?" she reminded him.

"Oh.  Yeah."  He hesitated a moment before gingerly scooping a bit of it 
from the plate with his fork, setting the plate rocking on her knee.  
Scully had another bite, bigger this time.  "Scully..."

"Yes?" she mumbled, her mouth full.

"I wasn't really getting up because I forgot the glasses," Mulder 
admitted.

"No?" she asked, swallowing and suddenly wishing for a tall, cold glass 
of milk. Then she realized what he was saying. "Oh.  Mulder, if you want 
to leave, then go.  I won't hold it against you."

He looked surprised.  "That's not it," he said.  She raised her eyebrows 
at him.  "It was because...I wanted to...do this, and I didn't think I 
could resist."  Mulder leaned in and touched her lips lightly with his, 
too briefly, and then pulling back.  "Happy birthday, Scully," he said 
softly.  She smiled at him, a real smile, and he thought his heart would 
melt.  And that flustered him.  "Maybe you're right," he said, dragging 
his eyes away, "Maybe I should go."

"You don't have to, not because of that," she said softly, touching him.  
He looked at her.  "I thought...I was the only one who felt that way," 
she admitted.

"What are you saying, Scully?"

She took a deep breath, as though weighing her words carefully.  "I'm 
saying, do that again."

"OK," he said slowly, watching her eyes, giving her the chance to change 
her mind.  There was no change.  He kissed her again, starting out gentle 
and soft, and allowing her to take the lead when she asserted herself.  
And she did.

"Why didn't we do that sooner?" she asked him.

He shrugged.  "You're always mad at me."

"Because you get irritated when I say your theories are bogus."

"We're doing it again."

"What?"

"Arguing."

"I guess...it's because this scares me, Mulder," she admitted.

"It scares me too, a little."  His pause was short.  "Not as much as a 
six foot tall Flukeman, but..."

She laughed.  She couldn't help it.  And once that door was opened, she 
couldn't shut it again.  "What about a liver eating guy?"

"Not as scary as a flukeman," Mulder snickered, thinking how good it was 
to hear her laugh.

"Or robotic cockroaches from outer space," she roared, laughing until her 
stomach hurt.  She leaned against Mulder on the couch for support as she 
giggled helplessly.  "We're crazy," she said at last.  

"Good," said Mulder, "Want some more wine?"

That set her off again and he couldn't help joining in.

End of part one.
Comments welcomed at zzcf89a@prodigy.com



_________________________________________
Megan Reilly          zzcf89a@prodigy.com
Web page for my fanfic and other writing:
http://members.aol.com/eponine119/


From ZZCF89A@prodigy.com Fri Oct 04 09:14:57 1996
Disclaimed in part one.
_________________
Break Time, part two
by Megan Reilly
zzcf89a@prodigy.com
__________________

+++++
Six hours later...

"...and that's how I broke my arm the first time," Mulder finished, 
stroking her hair lightly.

She raised her head from his chest and looked in his eyes.  "The first 
time?"

"The second time was on my first Bureau assignment.  I, uh, ran into a 
door."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," Mulder admitted.  It was amazing, he thought, he trusted 
this woman every day with his life, but he'd never trusted her with his 
secrets.  Until now.

"You're such a dork," she said, but she was smiling.

"Thanks a lot!" he cried.  Her words did sting a little.

"But a wonderful dork," she amended, laying her cheek back against his 
chest.  "You look so sexy with your glasses on."

He choked.  "What?" he cried.

"It's true," she said.  "Sorry, I've never broken anything, so I don't 
have that to tell you about.  But it's just as embarrassing to admit that 
the minute I walked into your office and saw you in those little wire-
framed glasses, I had a crush on you."

"Well, I had a bit of a crush on you, too," he admitted.

"No, seriously," she said, sitting up halfway to make her point.  "No 
matter what stupid thing you did or how angry at you I was, all you had 
to do was put on those damn glasses and I was sunk."

"You realize now I can hold that over your head?"

"I'm sure that you will, too," she said frankly.

"What is it about women and glasses?" he asked her, urging her head back 
down onto its former spot on his stomach.

"I don't know.  Do all women have a thing about glasses?  I thought I was 
the only one."

"Oh yeah," Mulder said, "Maybe it's a Clark Kent thing."

"You're going to have to explain this way out theory to me, Mulder, 
because I don't get it."

"Well, that's who Superman really is."

"I think I knew that, Mulder."

"No, that's who he really is, inside.  It's his soft side, his true 
nature."

"He's vulnerable, you mean," Scully said.  "Because he's a little dorky.
"

"Exactly.  Women like to see their men looking like dorks."

"I'm not sure how accurate that is," she protested.  "I mean, it only 
works on certain guys."

"Like who?"

"Like, I don't know!  It's a very fine line."

"Between dorky-cute and just plain dorky?"

"I'm beginning to hate that word, Mulder."

"I'm just trying to understand, Scully.  So, glasses on Brad Pitt would 
be..."

"Very hard to picture," Scully frowned.

"And glasses on Newt Gingrich would be..."

"No thank you."

"OK, but those were pretty obvious," Mulder said.

"Is this a test?" she cried.

"No.  Well, maybe."

"What happens if I fail?  Maybe we should go back to talking about your 
broken arm in your wild youth."

Mulder chuckled.  "I want to find out where this fine line is."

"OK," she said as though this was torture.

"Langly?" he asked.

"Yeah, OK," she said.

"You think *Langly*'s cute?" Mulder cried.

"Sure, why not?" Scully said casually.  "In a Langly kind of way."

"So the glasses work?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Mulder was silent for a long moment.  "Skinner?"

"Definitely," Scully sighed.

"Maybe we should go back to the broken arm," Mulder said, suddenly 
uncomfortable.

"Why?  You asked, so I told you.  They make him look less like a big 
hulking marine, and more like someone you can relate to."

"Scully, do you have one of these crushes on Skinner, too?"

She looked at him because he really sounded scared.  "Of course not," she 
said truthfully and he relaxed a little.

"Frohike?" he asked.

"No way!" she cried, and he laughed.  "This is nice," she said.

"Talking?"

"Uh-huh," she agreed, toying with the button on his shirt.  Suddenly his 
stomach growled loudly.  "What was that?" she said, touching his stomach 
through the cloth.

"I think we need to get some breakfast."

"But it's the middle of the night."

"Not anymore, Scully."

"You're kidding."

"No.  It's six thirty."

"Already?  We talked the whole night?"

"The whole night."

"That's amazing."

"So I guess you could say we've spent the night together," Mulder said, 
teasing her.

"I guess we have," Scully said.  "Breakfast?" she asked.

"Breakfast."

+++++

"This is not a proper way to start the day, Mulder, these have more 
calories than your body requires from an entire day's nutrition!"

"Shut up and eat, *Dr.* Scully."  Mulder told her, shoving half of the 
Egg McMuffin into his mouth.

She did as he said, falling into silence as she picked at her hash browns.
  They were quiet all through the meal, and even when they emerged onto 
the early morning street.  It felt like something had changed when they 
left her apartment, like their closeness had been lost to the light of 
day.

Mulder took her hand as they jaywalked across the street to the FBI 
building.  "What are all those people hanging around for?" he said, 
frowning at the crowd gathered into a line at the back entrance.

"They're waiting for the tour," Scully responded automatically.  Mulder 
looked at her, and he didn't have to say anything for her to know what he 
was thinking.

"You want to?" he said.

"Sure," she said, "What the heck?"

"I don't think I ever heard you say that before last night, Scully."

"Well, I've said it enough since then."

"I like it," Mulder said.  They were the last people admitted for the 
tour of the FBI building.  Mulder stood close to her as they waited to go 
through the metal detector.  Scully looked at it, feeling a knot in her 
stomach.  She remembered what had happened last time she went through 
this metal detector.

Mulder kissed her tenderly on the back of her neck and she jumped, but 
his lips lingered and she couldn't help relaxing as he wound his arms 
around her waist.  He is a marvel, she thought, glad to feel their 
closeness returning.

"Thanks," she murmured, pecking his cheek once they were through the 
machine.

"That's what I'm here for."

They trailed behind the tour group, not all that interested in what their 
young guide was telling them.  It was a lot of public relations and show, 
like telling them that two of the Ten Most Wanted had been identified by 
persons taking the tour, just like they were.

"And these are the labs where the agents conduct their detailed tests on 
paint, fiber and fingerprints," said their guide, who was walking very 
quickly.

"So they work under surveillance of the tours?" called out one of the 
group, taking in the plate glass window that formed one of the walls of 
the lab.

"Looks like it," Mulder muttered.

"Some of them even like to put on a show for the groups," their guide 
admitted.  "There was one technician who..."  Her words trailed off as 
her example appeared in the lab, suddenly looking up at the tour group 
through the plate glass window and swigging down the liquid sample he'd 
been analyzing.

"Eew," groaned some of the students.

"I'm sure it's just apple juice, for our benefit," assured their guide.

"Oh my God," Scully whispered.  She looked at Mulder and saw his white 
face.  They looked at the agent through the window again and knew that 
they'd been recognized by the way Agent Pendrell's mouth now hung open as 
he stared at them.

Scully managed to hold onto her composure long enough to wave at him and 
mouth the word "Cheers!"  Mulder just hurried away, and they both burst 
into helpless laughter.  Their tour guide gave them a startled look, but 
continued, leading them down some steps.

"These are the stars that commemorate the thirty two agents killed in the 
line of duty since the Bureau's beginning," she said and they sobered 
instantly.  "And these are the medals awarded to the families of the 
agents killed on their way to or from duty, including car accidents, 
plane crashes, things of that nature."

Mulder and Scully looked at the stars in the case.  They both knew agents 
who were gone, good agents who had been lost.  Scully reached over and 
sought Mulder's hand with hers, giving it a hard squeeze.  Once or twice, 
she had thought she might have to deliver one of those medals to his 
mother.  She turned and looked at him and saw a tear roll down his cheek. 
 She tried to smile and found it hard.  They faced death every day.  As 
much as they managed to forget it most of the time, that was always with 
them.  "It's OK," she whispered, hugging him quickly before they had to 
hurry to catch up with the group.

"And now, for the highlight of your tour...the demonstration on our 
firing range.  There will be a short wait before an agent is available to 
come and give the demonstration," said the guide, "Please make yourselves 
comfortable."  She opened the door and a dozen adolescent boys from the 
school group pushed past them, eager to sit in the front.  Closer to the 
actual gunfire.

"How can they be so excited, after hearing about the lives lost?" Mulder 
said, moving to the middle of a bench about three rows back from the 
curtain that was drawn across the glass.

"It doesn't mean anything to them, Mulder," Scully said practically.  He 
shook his head and she touched his face, brushing where she could still 
see the faint line from his tears.  "They don't mean anything by it."

"I know," he murmured, holding her eyes with his until the urge became to 
intense to fight.  She parted her lips and he kissed them.

"Good morning."

They both jumped apart when they heard that voice and Mulder let out a 
sound that Scully would have classified as a girly scream if she hadn't 
been so startled.  Her heart slowed slightly as she realized he hadn't 
been addressing only them, though it had sounded that way because his 
voice was booming over the intercom system.

She blushed and avoided looking at Mulder, unable to look away from 
Assistant Director Skinner, who stood behind the thick bulletproof glass 
holding a Sig Sauer in one hand and a machine gun in the other.  He was 
looking right at them.

Finally he glanced away, continuing the presentation.  "Welcome to the 
weapons demonstration part of our tour," Skinner said.

"Do you think he saw?" Scully whispered to Mulder once Skinner safely 
turned his back on them to face the Q target.

"Yeah," Mulder whispered back.

"He's going to crucify us."

"Yeah."

"Think we can sneak out?"

"We're trapped.  That guide locked the doors when she left.  Safety 
precaution," muttered Mulder.

The lights went back up and they stopped whispering as Skinner turned to 
face the group again.  "He's coming out here," Scully whispered without 
moving her mouth.

"Shit!" said Mulder, loud enough to attract attention from the junior 
high schoolers in front of them.  "We're dead."

"We are," Scully agreed.

Skinner looked right at them when he entered the room, warning them with 
his eyes.  And he continued to stare daggers at them as he answered most 
of the audience's questions.

"Still like his glasses?" whispered Mulder.

Scully elbowed him in the stomach and he whimpered.  "What're we going to 
do?"

"Grovel," he suggested.

Skinner dismissed the group and the guide opened the door again.  Mulder 
and Scully knew they couldn't run, especially not when Skinner had them 
pinned to their seats like prey.  "Fancy seeing you here, sir," said 
Mulder affably.

"Where's your report?  It was supposed to be on my desk at nine," Skinner 
snapped.

"It was Scully's birthday yesterday," said Mulder and she managed not to 
punch him for using that as an excuse.

"And this is how you celebrate?" demanded Skinner.

"We're always eager to learn more about the FBI, sir," remarked Mulder.  
When in doubt, be a smart ass, he thought.

"And what do you have to say for yourself, Agent Scully?"  Skinner 
demanded, turning to her.

"You'd be surprised what we've learned about Agent Pendrell, sir," she 
said calmly.

"I'm sure he'll have something interesting to say about the two of you, 
as well," Skinner snapped.  "I don't ever want to see behavior like that 
from the two of you again, is that understood?"

"Understood," Scully agreed.

"We were just trying to rile you up, sir.  It won't happen again," said 
Mulder.

"I see,"  Skinner said, giving them both hard, unreadable looks and then 
walking away.

Scully started breathing again.  "Good cover," she said to Mulder.

"Thanks," he responded, suddenly feeling very stressed out.  "There's 
just one thing."

"What's that?"

"I can't remember if we were kissing in the hall outside the lab, before 
Pendrell did his thing.  Can you?"

"No," Scully groaned.  

"Shit!" said Mulder.

"We're screwed," said Scully.

Mulder looked at her with a twisted smile.  "And we haven't, even."

She looked up at him.  "What?" she asked, and then realized what he'd 
meant.  "DON'T say it."

"What?" he asked innocently, teasing her.  "We haven't."

"Not yet," she said, fighting a smile as he looked at her.

"Maybe we should take the afternoon off," Mulder suggested.

"Maybe we should.  Just to let Skinner get over his anger."

"Of course.  No other reason."

"None at all."  Scully couldn't fight the smile any more.

"After all, it was your birthday yesterday," added Mulder, smiling back 
at her as they started for the door.

"Mulder?" she said seriously.
  
"Yes?"

"You didn't give me a present."

"Not yet."

+++++
The end. 

Please send comments!  My email address is zzcf89a@prodigy.com   Thanks 
for reading!

Megan


_________________________________________
Megan Reilly          zzcf89a@prodigy.com
Web page for my fanfic and other writing:
http://members.aol.com/eponine119/