<![CDATA[
COMPLETE
by GMD614@aol.com
This story was formerly DROPPING BY..., but it has been seriously revised
and, well, COMPLETEd :) If you are a non-'shipper - B-A-I-L N-O-W !!! There
is nothing here but poor, wounded Mulder trying to pull himself together
enough to be worthy of his beloved Dana.
Rating: R
Classification: MSR
Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but to CC, FOX,
1013, etc...
Spoilers: Nothing really specific.
Summary: When Mulder drops in on Scully's quiet night at home, is he
prepared to face the truths revealed in the events that follow?
COMPLETE by gmd614@aol.com
The ringing of the telephone snapped Scully out of the romantic haze
she'd fallen into an hour ago when AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER began. She was
curled tightly on the sofa with an empty bag of pretzel logs and some used
tissues next to her. She stretched her leg along the cushions kicking the
cordless closer to her grasp.
"Hello?"
"Can I interest you in a big mug of tea and idle chit chat, Agent Scully?"
"Who's calling?" She smiled warmly, cradling the phone between her chin and
shoulder while lowering the volume of the TV.
"Very funny, Scully."
"Mulder? Is that you? I...I wasn't sure. I don't ever recall chit chatting
with you about anything."
"Open the door Scully."
Scully hung up the phone and hopped off the couch, smiling that Mulder
was just out in the hall. She seemed a bit too eager, even to herself, for
Mulder's company, and visibly slowed - physically and emotionally. She
stopped at the mirror. Her hair was pulled up in a lose little bun on the
back of her head. An old pair of boxer shorts were paired with an oversized
"Property of the FBI" t-shirt creating an overall schlumpy look. She was
pleased.
"Hey."
"Hey, Scully. You look good...nice bun."
"Oh? I was unaware that part of our job description included Fashion Police.
You should have that added to your resume. By the way, have you looked in a
mirror in the last 48 hours?"
"Scully, you wound me."
Mulder quickly took in the scene at Scully's apartment. Empty pretzel
bag, tissues strewn about, dim lights... He plopped down on the far end of
the sofa and raised the volume of the TV.
"Cary Grant? Are you in one of those *girlie* moods, Scully? Is that what
I'm in for tonight?"
"There's the door, Mulder. No one invited you, remember?"
"This is the one where they meet on the top of the Empire State Building,
right?"
"Impressive. Was I providing the tea?"
"I aim to impress you, Agent Scully."
"You're playful tonight. Any special reason? Something I should know about?"
"Can't a guy spend some down time with his partner? Can't we bond over
something other than files, Agent Scully?"
Mulder asked teasingly, pausing for a mocking response to his rhetorical
questions. When no response was offered, Mulder added, "I've missed you.
That's all. I'll put the water on."
As quickly as Mulder had invaded her quiet evening, he was off into the
kitchen to prepare a snack. Scully could hear him shuffling around in there,
humming to himself. She loved it when Mulder was in one of these moods. He
hadn't been in quite some time...since Allentown and her diagnosis. She
missed these times. She was touched that he felt it also.
"Hey Scully? Do we have any cookies to go with the tea?"
Chuckling, she moved toward the kitchen. Do *we* have any cookies, she
thought. When did this happen? *MY* cookies are *OURS*. Typical. Scully
decided to play along with Mulder's little game.
"We, Mulder? Do *we* have any cookies? Last time I paid the rent, I don't
recall collecting your half. When did *my* cookies become community
property?"
"When you dropped your robe in my motel room on that very first case, Scully.
I silently vowed that everything you had would be mine."
Scully never could resist that goofy grin, or a typical Mulder
double-entendre, but when he paired them together, she was doomed. Scully
pulled out the Chips Ahoy, smirked at Mulder, and brushed past him toward the
sofa.
As Mulder set the mugs of tea on the coffee table, Scully watched him
carefully. No signs of distress. No deep creases along his brow. No haunted
look in his eyes. Actually, his eyes were awfully clear...and green. Scully
had never seen his eyes look so bright before. They were enchanting.
"What are ya starin' at?"
"Sorry," Scully said a bit sheepishly, "but your eyes are gorgeous."
"I'm hurt you've never noticed before," Mulder mocked as a blush crept into
his cheeks.
"No, really, Mulder. They're beautiful. Look at me."
Scully sat up on her knees and took Mulder's face gently in her hands.
Smoothing the pads of her fingers over his brow, Scully felt Mulder shudder
under her touch. As if seeing him for the first time, Scully studied his
face. Mulder's features, individually, were awkward and misshapen, but
together, he was a beautiful man.
Mulder was as insecure as he ever remembered being. His breathing was
shallow and he was shaking. He could not move, allowing Scully to take her
time examining his face. Her touch was soft and warm, and he could feel her
breath on his cheeks. This was getting decidedly dangerous. Mulder tried to
lighten the mood by perhaps bringing a bit of humor into the situation.
"Scu...Scully, are you gonna kiss me? Cause if you're gonna kiss me, I..I'd
like to be ready for it. It would only be fair since...."
Scully lowered her lips and barely brushed them across his. He stopped
talking, stopped breathing. Scully was bursting inside. No matter how hard
she tried, she thought she'd never *shock* Mulder the way he could shock her
with a touch, a look, or some carefully chosen words. This was an act of
sheer genius - even if Mulder inadvertently planted the idea. Repeating the
action, Scully touched her mouth to his once more, then pulled away slowly,
again staring deeply into his eyes.
"Really beautiful, Mulder. Deep, clear green."
Her voice was a whisper that danced on his face. His Adam's Apple
bobbed up and down, up and down, as he tried making sense of, of...this.
Scully's tone returned to the light, playful one she possessed before she
rocked Mulder's world. It was as though Scully hadn't just shattered his
truth, their truth, about this carefully-progressing relationship.
"There are little gold flecks all around the edges. God, they look like
fireworks!" Scully sat back on the sofa. "Pass a cookie, please. Ooh, this
part is great!" she exclaimed pointing at the TV. "They bump into each other
at the theater and she's just a mess!"
"Scu...ahem, Scully?"
"What is it, Mulder? Make it quick. I want to hear this. It's soooo sad."
Mulder just sat there shifting his eyes from the TV to his partner and
back again. He wanted to say something, but somewhere between the kiss and
this moment, Mulder lost his entire vocabulary.
Oh, Scully wished she could take a snapshot of Mulder's face and frame
it for all eternity. That was probably the most spontaneous and exciting
thing she'd done since high school. Prepared not to panic by thinking too
much, Scully broke the silence.
"Say something, Mulder. It's killing you, just sitting there. Whatever it is,
good, bad or ugly, just get it out."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?" Scully emphasized her point with a poke in Mulder's ribs.
"Can't."
He caught her hand and held it. They sat that way, just looking at each
other for a good while. Mulder's grip loosened as he began stroking Scully's
knuckles with his thumb. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Feel better now, Mulder?"
"Better?"
"Your color is returning to normal, and your breathing seems much more even.
I bet if I took your pulse...."
"Regrets, Scully?" Mulder interrupted her.
"It was barely a kiss, Mulder."
"Not the kiss...everything. The whole shebang. Five years."
"I told you once before in Apison, I wouldn't change anything."
"Do you still feel that way, Scully? I mean, you know, the cancer..."
He looked away as his voice trailed off. Scully slid closer to him, and
touched her fingers to his face again, turning his gaze back to her own.
"Everything about our relationship is intense, Mulder. When I say I wouldn't
change anything, I *do* mean that, but tonight...can't we just pretend that
we're not FBI agents, that I'm not sick. Can't I be *Dana* playing house with
a great-looking guy for one night?"
"Scully, honey, do I have to take out the trash?"
"Shut up, Mulder."
He draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. Scully
snuggled in and Mulder pressed his lips to her forehead.
"Is this what you had in mind, *Dana*?" She smiled and sighed.
"Mmmm-hmmm. This is perfect. I almost feel normal."
"Could you deal with normal, Scully? I mean, every day?"
"For about as long as you could," Scully chuckled.
"Would it be all right if we played house, played normal, every once in a
while. I never had *normal*...not since Samantha, not even before...I want to
feel that, Scully."
"As long as you promise that *normal* won't include any unnecessary guilt for
things out of your control, Mulder. If you promise me that, I'll play with
you as often as you want."
# # # # #
To the faint strains of THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER, Scully awoke. Mulder,
asleep beneath her on the sofa, must have pulled her on top of him after
she'd dozed off during the late movie. Scully quieted the patriotic sounds
coming from the television, but left it on for light.
Carefully, Scully rose off the sofa, off Mulder, and covered his lanky
form with a quilt...his quilt - the one Mrs. Scully had sewn when she learned
that Fox sometimes stayed over "due to the nature of our work, Mom." He
stirred and sighed at the loss of her heat against him. Even after months of
their "playing house" arrangement, Scully still found it fascinating to watch
Mulder sleep. She curled herself into a ball, hugging her legs, as she
settled onto the floor beside him.
Mulder and Scully would usually engage in this little indulgence - this
game of theirs - two or three nights a month, but of late, more frequently.
Baring their souls to one another became standard; however, physically,
Mulder and Scully subconsciously drew faint lines in the sand. Until the
kiss...the one and only time Mulder initiated anything more than a chaste,
friendly embrace. The only time since Scully gently brushed her lips across
his the night they began this journey three months ago.
# # # # #
One Week Earlier...
Playing house with Mulder was one of the most exhilarating experiences
of Scully's life. He had lacked so much as a child...love, warmth, safety,
trust, truth. Scully wanted so badly to give it all to him, and in return,
Mulder couldn't have been more receptive and reciprocating of her attempts.
Their time together would be spent one of a variety of ways. Sometimes,
they would sit and talk...sharing deep-rooted, emotional stories and events
from their childhoods. Mostly, Scully did the talking and Mulder would just
sit and listen or flip through photograph albums to capture the image and
essence of the child-Scully as she spoke. There were times when Scully would
insist on silence, usually after a harrowing work week. Then, they would
read...separately but together. Both would be involved in a work of choice,
but they would sit on opposite ends of the couch, legs entwined. Soft music
might be playing in the background, but not always. Often, the soft sounds of
the other's breathing was background enough. On few occasions, the two would
venture out of Scully's apartment. It was harder to keep up the facade on the
outside. Then, they usually agreed on a long drive or a trip to a secluded
beach or lake. Once, Mulder surprised Scully by renting a sailboat and its
captain for the afternoon.
Never did the two discuss work. Never. It was an unspoken rule. Work
would be done at Mulder's apartment. Scully's place was a safe haven from
mutants, aliens, and things that go bump in the night. Scully's apartment
was reserved for Dana and Fox.
She was seasoning the chicken when Mulder knocked on the door. She
smiled unconsciously, wiped her hands on a dish rag, and slid the roasting
pan into the oven. Again, Mulder knocked, impatient to leave the FBI and
serial killers behind tonight. Another case that hit too close to
home...young, red-headed women ceremoniously crucified after being sexually,
ritualistically abused for 7 days and nights. Scully crossed the space to the
door in short, quick steps.
"Hold your horses, Mulder! I'm coming..."
"Oh, how I wish that were so," Mulder sighed, as Scully met his impish gaze
across the threshold.
"Jerk."
"I brought something for you," he said, ignoring her comment.
Scully said nothing but arched her eyebrow in question. Closing the
door, Scully locked them in knowing neither would be leaving tonight.
Turning toward Mulder, she watched him put a few things into the fridge,
place a loaf of Italian bread on the counter and gracefully walk to the coat
rack. He had nothing left in the bag, so whatever he brought must fit in his
pocket.
"Aren't you curious, Scully?"
"Very. Do I get it now or later?"
"Later. After dinner."
Mulder watched Scully's eyes travel the length of him, move to the empty
bags on the table, and back to Mulder's jacket that was now hanging on the
coat rack by the door. She made an attempt to walk in that direction when
Mulder grabbed her around the waist with one arm and effortlessly lifted her
off her feet.
"Don't do it, Dana," warned Mulder as he deposited her onto the sofa, and
dropped down next to her. "I said later."
"Okay, okay, I'll wait...but only if I get a hint."
"A hint? Okay, a hint. Uh, remember I stopped at my mother's house during
the week?"
"While you were in Connecticut following a lead. I remember."
"Ok, that's your clue."
"Going to your mother's is supposed to mean something to me?"
"No. But it will later."
With a smirk and a peck on the cheek, Mulder rose off the sofa and went
to check on the status of their evening meal. She followed close behind.
"What's cooking, D?"
"Uh, chicken, potatoes, some steamed veggies...I could ask you the same
question. You seem very *up* tonight, Mulder. After this last case..."
"Shhh! No talking shop!" His fingers were pressed to her lips. She nodded.
"I'm fine, Scully. Really. Just looking forward to relaxing with you and
eating. I'm starved."
Mulder broke off the end of the Italian bread, and dunked it down into
the bottom of the salad bowl sitting on the counter. Dripping a bit of
vinaigrette on his chin, Mulder popped the bread into his mouth and grinned
at Scully. She couldn't help laughing, shaking her head at the sight of him.
There was something different tonight...and Scully was growing increasingly
anxious to find out what it was.
# # # # #
Dinner was uneventful. Scully and Mulder ate in a companionable silence,
testimony to just how hungry both were. Scully's mind was reeling. She felt
like a kid on Christmas Eve, and the worst part was that Mulder knew it.
He sat back in his chair, watching Scully play with the vegetables on
her plate. The cogs were turning, he knew. He' d seen her this way thousands
of times over the course of their career together. Mulder smiled, and caught
her eye. He held Scully's gaze for a little longer than either was used to -
even in light of their new-found relationship.
"So, Dana, wanna wash or dry?" He pushed himself away from the table and
began clearing the dishes.
"Dry. I'll put up the coffee while you start the dishes."
The radio was tuned to an oldies station, and strains of Johnny Maestro
and The Brooklyn Bridge filled the room. "Sixteen candles...make a lovely
light..."
"Hey, Scully? How old were you when you went on your first date?"
"My "official" first date, or my "first" first date?"
"There's a difference?"
"There was to Ahab. When I was 14, Jeff Wilton and I went bowling off base.
My parents thought I was with Melissa, and technically, I was. They just had
no idea I was with Melissa, her friends, and one of my own."
"Kiss him?"
"He kissed *me*, Mulder. My aggression developed somewhere in college," she
said with a smirk.
"What was it like?"
"It was a kiss. No fireworks. Just a kiss."
"Any tongue?"
"Why did I know you were going ask me that?"
"Well?"
"Yes, Mulder, tongues were involved if I remember correctly."
"Oh."
Now it was Mulder's turn to be lost in thought. Scully hopped up onto
the counter next to the sink with a dish rag. She began drying as Mulder
silently soaped and rinsed the dinnerware.
"Why so quiet?"
"No reason."
"Liar. What's wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong, Scully."
He couldn't fool her. Not that he was really trying. She was staring
right at him, her gaze never wavering from his face. Basically, Mulder
cracked under the pressure.
"OK, OK...you're gonna think I'm being stupid."
"Probably, but tell me anyway."
"I feel comfortable when I say, Scully, that I think I know you better than
just about anyone. You and I are...very close... I...I guess I just find it
difficult to believe that some 14 year old walking hormone has kissed you
more deeply than I have."
Smiling a big wide smile, Scully swatted Mulder with the towel.
"True, but I never, ever dropped my robe for Jeff," she teased remembering
his comment made on that first night of "playing house".
A low chuckle emerged from Mulder's throat, and Scully was pleased to
make him laugh.
"What about you, Mulder? Any good stories to tell," Scully said swinging her
leg to tap him on the hip.
"My first kiss was with Nancy Ann Scranton the summer after Samantha
disappeared. She and Jimmy O'Hanley, my best friend, were the only kids who
weren't afraid to talk to me. We were like Tom, Huck and Becky.....You know,
now that I think of it, Nancy was a lot like you."
"How so?"
"Fiercely loyal, very no-nonsense, driven...tough as nails."
"That's how you see me?"
"Sometimes."
"And the other times?"
Mulder looked over at Scully perched on the counter next to him. They
were eye-to-eye now. He smiled a smile that reflected in his eyes and made
Scully's heart skip a beat. He avoided her question.
"So, this Jeff guy...what ever happened to him?"
"We lived on a Navy base, Mulder. People were always moving away, always
losing touch."
"Funny how you never seemed lonely as a kid, even with all the moving you
did; yet, I moved only once and couldn't have been more alone."
Scully squeezed Mulder's shoulder, then slid her hand to his chest and
rested it over his heart. She couldn't bring herself to look at him - it
would have been too much. He was healing. Scully knew that through these
wonderful nights of "pretend", Mulder's heart was in repair. She was
performing the surgery. Dr. Scully to the rescue.
"How long are you going to keep me in suspense? What did you bring from your
mother's house?"
"A few things actually...I realized that you've been doing most of the
storytelling, and I figured it was my turn. I brought a few props."
"Props? You are quite the mystery tonight, Fox Mulder."
"It's part of the "Spooky" mystique. Didn't Blevins tell you about that?"
"Ha ha ha, Mulder. Oooh, listen...Elvis..."
Mulder and Scully listened quietly to The King crooning the words to
CAN'T HELP FALLING IN LOVE. They worked busily straightening the kitchen, so
the rest of the night could be spent on more interesting things.
"Only fools rush in, Scully. Guess that makes us very, very wise people."
That comment caught Scully a bit off-guard, and she visibly blushed.
"Why, Scully, are you *blushing*?"
"Shut up, Mulder," she replied with an edge of embarrassment in her voice.
"You are! Scully, I'm flattered. It's an honor to know that I can make the
Ice Queen melt merely with a few choice words."
"Watch it, Spooky, or you'll really know the meaning of icicle. And you'll
know it most intimately."
"Oh, Baby! Promise?"
Scully glared at him for just a moment, then her "angry" facade cracked
and fell away, both laughing hysterically.
Mulder turned off the faucet, and grabbed the end of Scully's dish rag
to dry his hands. He moved between her legs, tossed the towel aside, and
took her hands into his, studying them. He was instantly moved by the
incongruence of her tiny stature and magnanimous presence in his life.
Leaning in, Mulder rested his forehead to hers. Not sure of his next move,
Mulder felt Scully's legs encircle him and lock at the ankles. This was all
the encouragement he needed.
Pulling back slightly, Mulder tilted his head and leaned in again,
barely touching his lips to hers. Back and forth, Mulder's mouth moved
against the silkiness of Scully's with feather-light strokes. He made no
motion to deepen the kiss just yet, reveling in the feel of Scully so close.
"Mulder?"
"Mmmmm..."
"Kiss me..."
With pent-up passion spanning the last five years, their lips met in a
kiss more powerful than either Mulder or Scully had ever experienced. Hungry,
yet patient. Soft, but demanding. Dangerous, but so safe.
Slowly, Scully ended the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at
Mulder's face. His eyes were still closed and his lips wet and slightly
parted. Scully could hear his uneven gasps for air and that made her smile,
for she too was having a little trouble breathing. Mulder's hands couldn't
remain still. He was rubbing Scully's back in small circles, holding her
close to him. She settled her head on Mulder's shoulder, nuzzling his neck
with her nose and mouth.
"I think the coffee is ready. Why don't you help me down from here? We can
get more comfortable in the living room. I haven't forgotten about the
treasures in your jacket."
"Scully, I...w-was that...ok?"
"Mulder, it was perfect, the most amazing kiss..."
"No, I mean, was it ok that it happened, that I kissed you?"
Sometimes, Scully wasn't sure if she wanted to punch Mulder for being so
dense, or pull him into her arms for being so endearing.
"Fox Mulder, it was the most perfect, natural, wonderful moment I can
remember. Now, get me off this counter..."
# # # # #
PRESENT DAY...
Mulder began to stir in his sleep. His brow furrowed and quiet groans
were audible. Scully feared a nightmare, and began stroking his cheek softly
with the back of her fingers. Gently working her fingers into his hair, she
rubbed his scalp in small circles, and spoke calming words into his ear.
Once again, Mulder slipped back into restful sleep murmuring one word before
falling silent..."Scully..."
She was in love. There was no question now, not after that kiss in her
kitchen last week. However, this was Mulder she was dealing with...nothing
could be simple. The kiss Mulder so tentatively began opened doors that had
been bolted closed. Mulder, nevertheless, panicked and tried slamming the
door closed again. Luckily, Scully got her foot wedged in before he could
seal the opening completely. Now, she was fighting to break through once
more.
He was so afraid. It broke Scully's heart that such a beautiful person
was so wounded. She couldn't promise forever; couldn't promise a future. But
she loved him the only way Scully knew how to love him...with everything she
had. Damming the emotions back for five years made the tidal wave that
flooded her all the more powerful. If only Mulder would stop holding onto the
pier and allow himself to be caught up in the tide.
Scully continued stroking Mulder's hair as she watched him
sleep...thinking back to the minutes after their kiss one week earlier...
COMPLETE (2/2)
See part one for disclaimers and stuff.
He had been so excited to show Scully what he'd brought back from his
mother's house. The coffee was poured and they sat cross-legged on the sofa
facing each other.
Mulder's jacket was rumpled on the floor next to him. Scully tried casually
glancing at the heap of leather to perhaps subconsciously get Mulder to pick
it up and remove the contents of his pockets, but he just grinned more
broadly at her each time her attention was directed to the floor.
"This is killing you, isn't it? I've never seen you like this," he laughed.
"C'mon, Mulder! Please...it's been so long since I've been surprised by
anything pleasant. Stop teasing."
"You were the one who woke the entire family up at 5 AM on Christmas morning,
weren't you?"
"Guilty as charged, Agent Mulder."
"Ok, I give...but first you have to promise not to laugh."
Scully's curiosity was taking on a life of it's own. She was enthralled
by the mystery in ways that Big Blue, Jose Chung, and Eugene Tooms just
couldn't titillate.
"Mulder, just show me!"
Now, Scully was pouting and Mulder wanted nothing more than to kiss her
again. However, Mulder knew if he changed the subject or attempted to
distract Scully from the contents of his pocket, he'd surely be a dead man.
Nodding his head, he began to speak, softly and seriously.
"Scully, I love listening to you talk about your childhood. Your memories are
so vivid and fondly remembered that I feel like I was there...right beside
you...experiencing these things with you. When you were...after Duane
Barry...ahem...your mom and I spent some time together. She told me stories
about your childhood, and about your strength and your character. I
understood so much about who you are because of that, but the one greatest
help to me was a picture of you."
"A picture? Mom showed you pictures," Scully questioned nervously, wondering
which embarrassing photos her mom had pulled out and shown to Mulder.
Scully's face reddened.
"She gave me one. It's a picture of you at the beach. You were about 8 or 9
years old."
Mulder paused and looked at Scully fearing that she was uncomfortable
with this new information.
"Why did she give you such an old picture? Why not one of me as an adult? If
I didn't come back, wouldn't you have wanted one as you remembered me?"
"That's not...I never stopped believing..."
Scully took Mulder's hand in her own as his voice trailed off. It was so
difficult for Mulder to express himself on such a deeply intimate level, even
to Scully...especially to her. Usually, all Mulder needed was a little
encouragement and he'd get through the rough spots.
"I kept that picture in my wallet. Whenever your mother and I would start
talking, I'd hold it. I felt more connected to you that way."
"Is that why you look through my photo albums so often?"
"I guess so, yeah. It ties everything together for me."
Scully waited patiently for Mulder to go on, stroking the back of his
hand with her thumb. He seemed to be losing his nerve and she didn't want to
push him, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. He continued.
"Scully, I know that I haven't shared as much with you as you've shared with
me, but my stories aren't nearly as happy or entertaining as yours. I love
the feeling I get from hearing about the Scully clan in action."
They both laughed easily and relaxed a bit.
"I thought I owed it to you to share whatever I remember of my childhood.
Good or bad, it's who I am. I need you to know, Scully."
"You don't owe me anything, Mulder, but the truth is...I...I really want to
know. I always have wanted to know. Just when I think I understand you,
Mulder...just when I think I know what makes you tick, you throw me a curve
and all my theories go out the window."
"Maybe these will help..."
Mulder pulled a smallish, clear, plastic bag from his jacket pocket.
Inside were photos, both black-and-white and color, in varying sizes.
Tentatively, he extended his hand to Scully, and gave her the photos.
Scully's eyes began to fill with unshed tears, but she forced herself
not to cry. Taking the bag, Scully held it between both hands. She studied
the pile, and realized just what Mulder was giving her. Tracing the image
that stared up at her with the tip of one finger, Scully recognized the
smiling baby to be her partner. The tears spilled over onto the plastic,
bouncing and splattering on her hands. She wondered how long after this
picture was taken had things begun to go wrong for Fox Mulder.
Nothing was said between the two as Scully slowly removed the pictures
from the bag. One by one, she examined the images before her; Mulder's baby
pictures, birthdays, first days of school. There were photos of a lovely,
young mother and her first born...then, with both of her children. A stiff
young man sitting solemnly on a chair with his small son standing stoically
beside him. Two adorable children on the beach sharing a sandwich. A big
brother holding his little sister's hand at the zoo. A proud girl staring up
at her older brother in his baseball uniform. A high school graduation
picture.
The lump in Scully's throat was more than she could bear. The tears fell
freely onto her face and slowly ran down her cheeks. There was nothing she
could say to express the emotions she felt for the man beside her.
Here was Fox Mulder, open and vulnerable and complete before her. Scully
had never been given such a beautiful gift in all her life. Nothing had ever
meant more to her than Mulder re-opening his wounds for her to heal.
Mulder selected a picture from the pile and held it moment before
speaking.
"This was my fifth birthday. I got a bicycle with training wheels. I remember
being so proud of that bike. It was metallic blue. I remember the day my
father put the bike in the garage for the winter. We chose the spot together
and I handed him the tools as he mounted the hooks high up on the far wall. I
loved that bike so much that when my parents fought or Samantha got cranky
and cried, I'd go out into the garage and stare at the bike up on the wall
just dreaming about the Spring and riding it again."
Mulder handed the picture to Scully and chose another. It was a
photograph of Mulder, a shorter boy, and a blonde girl. They were about 15. A
smile played on his lips and Scully felt the tiniest pang of jealousy.
"Nancy Ann?"
"Yeah. We had an on again/off again thing for years...until I left for
Oxford. After my parents' divorce, my mother and I moved to Connecticut. I
thought I'd never see her again. Mr. Scranton's company transferred him to
the Manhattan branch, and her family moved into the same Greenwich
neighborhood a few months later. My mother found them the house."
"What happened to Jimmy?"
"He, um, he overdosed on drugs in 1979. I couldn't get home from Oxford for
the funeral. Nance came to England and we had our own mourning period there.
I haven't seen her since she left, and right after that I met Phoebe."
Scully curled herself into Mulder's side and the two went through each
picture and all the stories Mulder could remember about his formative years
and thereafter.
# # # # #
They had been called to Denver on a case early the following morning and
had chased leads across the Great Plains for the remainder of the week. Now,
Scully sat on the floor beside Mulder's sleeping form on her couch. He
pulled as far away from her as he could during the week. The pressures of the
job were a factor since no one was more focused than Mulder when he was
working. Something else, Scully felt, was going on in his head. He was too
formal, too professional, too distant. She had hoped that his walls would
come down once they were home again and back in her apartment. That hadn't
happened.
While on the case, there had been no time to discuss or to explore the
kiss they shared. Scully feared that the longer they remained silent, the
harder it would be for Mulder to deal with what had happened between them.
Scully was sure he'd push those emotions deep into the recesses of his
eidetic memory, recalling them only when he was alone and missing the
nearness of her, convincing himself that the kiss was just a fluke - a chance
happening.
Her fears were being realized. He still hadn't gained the confidence in
their relationship to trust his feelings. Scully knew Mulder wanted to pull
her into his arms at the end of each night on the road, but regulations
frowned on that sort of "fraternizing" between partners. Work was work, and
Scully respected that. They would have to be strictly professional while on a
case - it could endanger them otherwise. However, Scully knew that wasn't the
only reason Mulder hadn't come near her in a week's time. He was never a
stickler for rules...
She brushed a lock of hair off Mulder's brow and kissed his head.
Pushing herself off the floor, Scully made her way to the kitchen. Perhaps a
cup of Chamomile tea would calm her, and give her the strength to deal with
Mulder's anxiety.
Breaking her own rule, Scully began to allow the guilt to set in. She
had banned Mulder-guilt from their nights together trying to eliminate
unnecessary obstacles from this cleansing period in their relationship. Now,
Scully was letting it get the best of her. Maybe she shouldn't have allowed
this "game" go on as long as it had. She knew her ability to seemingly turn
emotions on and off was sharper than Mulder's, but she admired his openness.
Mulder was an open book, perhaps only to Scully, but she was the only one who
needed to read those pages. Had she inadvertantly confused him by playing
this "game"? *No,* Scully thought, *he knows my feelings.* Conceivably,
Mulder could have thought that Scully was only pretending. She hadn't come
out and told him how she feels about him, though to Scully it was painfully
obvious. Their little game of playing house, impersonating a couple, had
become more real than either of them thought it would - but not as real as
they each secretly wanted.
"He doesn't know," she sighed aloud, dipping the tea bag in and out of the
steaming mug of water.
"Doesn't know what?"
Scully was startled by Mulder's appearance in the kitchen, but she was
immediately warmed by his toussled hair and the seam-lines on his left cheek
from the cushions on the couch.
"Mulder, you scared me. Did I wake you?"
"No. Who doesn't know what?"
"Tea?"
"Yes, and why are you avoiding my question?"
"Avoiding your question? I'm not avoiding your question."
"Scully..."
"I was thinking out loud. That's all. I do that sometimes. I think I'm going
to make a PB & J. Want one?"
"Sounds great. Use the chunky peanut butter on mine."
Mulder sat at the table watching Scully work. Mulder could equate nothng
to the pleasure he derived from simply watching Scully. She was so graceful,
so powerful. The safety Mulder felt when he was with Scully compared to no
other feeling in his memory. It was something of a maternal protectiveness he
felt from her, but underneath, there was so much passion and energy. She was
his shield from the dangers that kept him awake at night.
Her deft movments amazed Mulder as she prepared their late night snack.
The hands of a surgeon, precise and steady. Often, when Scully would drift
off to sleep before Mulder, he'd watch her sleeping, and wonder if she ever
found him as fascinating. Mulder could so easily imagine them in another
life, in another dimension, living together as husband and wife. She was
always a doctor in his vision, but her surgeries were perfomed on the living,
away from the macabre stench of death. He was in private practice, helping
those in need of counseling...those not fortunate to have their perfect
compliment waiting at home.
"Yoohoo... Mull-derr?"
"Oh, sorry...I was just..."
"Imagining me in buff again, Mulder. How many times have I told you, `Ask and
ye shall receive.'"
She smiled and placed his peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the table,
tousseling his hair as she turned for the coffee mugs on the counter. Scully
wanted so much for Mulder to jump at the bait. She knew in her heart that it
would never happen. She'd have to take the first step if anything were ever
to happen. Again, the ache in her chest throbbed a bit more for this fragile,
broken man before her.
"So, Mulder, now that we're both wide awake at such an ungodly hour, what
shall we do?"
"What woke you, Scully?"
"THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER."
Mulder's brow wrinkled in question as he bit into his sandwich.
"The television station was signing off. I guess the change in volume from
voices speaking to orchestration did it."
"I must have been out cold not to notice you getting up."
"You noticed. You just didn't wake up."
Scully decided to take the chance.
"When I got up, you started fidgeting. You called my name. I sat on the
floor beside you rubbing your head until you quieted."
Mulder blushed. He genuinely blushed. Scully couldn't help but giggle at
the scarlett color of his ears and the blotchy patches on his neck.
"Why are you laughing?"
"You're blushing."
"So?"
"You're adorable when you blush, Mulder."
Grinning from ear to ear, Scully felt a fluttering in her stomach. He was so
unbelieveably sexy. *Tell him, you big coward,* she told herself.
"Adorable and kinda sexy."
"Sexy?"
With a mouthful of PB & J, Scully nodded her head, and winked at him.
"Sexy. Do you really thnk so?"
After a sip of coffee, Scully replied earnestly.
"Are you kidding me? Mulder, you are a very sexy man. Very sexy."
"How so?"
Mulder was baiting her and she knew it. She wanted to give this to him -
for all the insecurities he had felt over the last 37 years, Scully had the
power to make up for some of the crap he'd been through. He deserved to hear
it. Scully took another sip of coffee.
"Your eyes are the most amazing shade of green...no, not green exactly. They
change constantly, from brown and gold to green, depending on your mood.
Sometimes clear and open. Sometimes cloudy and guarded. You can make women
melt with a glance, Mulder."
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to accept her words as
truth.
"Of course, that pouty mouth doesn't hurt either...especially when you're
working and you constantly run your tongue along your bottom lip..."
"Do I? I didn't realize..."
"I'm not finished. Your hands are sexy, Mulder. Very elegant. Long fingers.
Powerful. Gentle."
Lulled by her throaty voice, Mulder found himself incredibly aroused by
her tone. The words were indistinguishable, but the music of her voice...
"The way you rest your hand at the small of my back makes me feel safe,
Mulder. Knowing that you are right beside me is the most seductive feeling
I've ever known."
"Scully, you don't have to do this."
"When you sleep, Mulder, I sometimes sit beside you and just look at you. You
are so different in sleep, so tranquil."
Touching her fingers to his brow, Scully traced the contours of his face
as her words soothed his nervous heart.
"The creases disappear from your brow. Your long lashes brush your cheek and
your mouth falls slightly open. Sometimes, I gain the courage to touch you. I
watch how my touch changes you, even in sleep; how it calms your fears during
a nightmare and chases the demons from your mind. I wonder what you dream of
when I sit there, speaking soft, silencing words."
"Stop it, Scully."
"Why, Mulder? Don't you think you finally deserve the truth?"
"The truth? Is that what this is?"
"What else would it be, Mulder? I have never lied to you. Why would I start
now?"
Considering her words, Mulder found himself lost in her gaze. There was
nothing hidden in her expression, nothing held back. She was open and honest
and real.
"I'm afraid, Scully."
"Oh, Mulder...,"
Her words were but a whisper; the expression on her face spoke volumes.
Taking his hands in her own, Scully rose from her chair and pulled him up
from his. Stepping closer to him, Scully stood on her toes and wrapped her
arms around Mulder's neck, drawing him into a fierce embrace.
Mulder was startled by the intensity of it, yet enticed by the nearness
of her body to his. His arousal was obvious and somewhat embarrassing, but
Scully didn't withdraw. Instead, she pressed herself into him, burying her
face in the crook of his neck...tangling her fingers in his hair.
"I'm so sorry, Mulder. I thought you knew...all this time, I thought you knew
my feelings."
He lifted her and carried her to the living room. Sitting on the couch
with Scully on his lap, Mulder closed his eyes and rested his head on
Scully's shoulder. They sat nestled in the cushions of the couch, breathing
in the scent of each other.
"Scully, I need...I don't know how...what am I supposed to do, Scully?"
"What do you want to do, Mulder?"
He wanted to say the words, but they wouldn't come. Scully saw the
struggle in his eyes, in his face. How could she make everything right for
him? How could she make it better?
Pressing her lips to his, Scully tenderly kissed him. Beginning slowly,
softly, Scully coaxed Mulder into a more passionate kiss, eliciting from him
an unspoken promise to say what was in his heart.
"Tell me, Mulder. What do you want?"
"You."
His trembling voice was barely audible.
"I want you, Scully."
"You have me.You've always had me."
"All of you. Scully...Scully, these last few years, I've come to know your
mind...God, how I love your mind, your skeptical, questioning, beautiful
mind. I need more."
"Mulder, what do you need? Say it."
"I need to know your heart. I can't play these games anymore. All this
pretending is driving me insane. No more fronts, Scully."
"I think I can do that, Mulder, if you can. My heart is yours...ever since
you held me in your arms after the Donnie Pfaster case. Probably before then,
but I was too "professional" to see it."
"Holding you, knowing you needed me, felt so extraordinary. It was one of the
most empowering moments of my life, Dana. I wanted to believe so badly that
your heart and your mind belonged to me, but you usually kept me at arms
length. You never let me near you."
"I was afraid I'd crumble, Mulder. I couldn't let you in. I had to protect
myself from getting lost in you."
"No. I'm not speaking of knowing your heart, Scully. You literally never let
me near you. When I killed Roche, you let me put my arms around you, but you
pulled away so quickly...I was left wondering if it was another of my
fantasies. You mentioned the feel of my hand on your back. That was my way of
reassuring myself that we were real, that you were with me."
"All these months, Mulder, it has felt so good to be in your arms...but I
want more. Sleeping beside you, holding you and being held by you, isn't
enough anymore. Make love to me."
"Oh, God...Scully, you don't know how much I want that."
"Please, Mulder. I don't want to wait any longer...not another night
pretending that we're pretending. I need you to touch me. Let me touch you."
Mulder's eyes darkened at her words, and he crushed her to him in a
hungry kiss. Making a conscious decision to slow down, Mulder pulled away
looking deeply into Scully's eyes.
"The bedroom, Scully. Not here. I want to do this right. I want to commit
every touch, every sound, every inch of you to memory. I want to bury myself
in you and lose all sense of control knowing you'll be there to catch me. I
want to fall asleep, sated and peaceful, with you in my arms."
"Shhh," Scully breathed, pressing a finger to his lips. "When I dropped my
robe in your motel room on that very first case, Mulder, I silently vowed
that everything I had would be yours. Make me yours."
Lifting her off his lap, and rising from the couch, Mulder led Scully to
the bedroom, ending his healing - giving her his heart, himself, complete.
THE END
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