Title: Passing Time
Author: Laura >lebontrager@iname.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013 and Fox. No fringe is
intended. This song does not belong to me and I don't even know who it
does belong to. It was on Tootsie, though.

~~~~~
Passing Time
~~~~~
"Time
I've been passing time
watching trains go by
All of my life
Lying on the sand
watching seabirds fly. . .
If I found the place,
would I recognize the face?
Something's telling me it might be you
All of my life."
~~~~~

He watches the eyebrows twist into an expressive grimace, tilts his head
to see her eyes better, with their glint of pleasure that borders on
disgust.

Disgust because people are dying, pleasure because she can help stop it.

Her eyebrow raises and she looks up at him; he manages to cover his stare
with a nonchalant look.

She motions him over, begins to describe an elaborate method of virulogy
for this new disease, her mouth quirking up and down behind the mask and
her face making every range of expression there is.

He likes to see this.

It's been a while since he last saw her impassioned about this job, been a
long time since he saw her smile at being able to help.

He nods and throws out a few theories that sound good, if not accurate,
and then steers her away from the corpse, over to the doors.

He pushes her to leave, but without words, only the barest of touches on
her elbow and a suggestive look and maybe his eyes twinkling at her.

She follows him out of the suite and into the hallwayg off her sterile
clothes and the mask, letting him see her mouth, the way her lips have
danced across her face and teased him out of sight.

"Mulder?" she questions, and he just smiles and wishes she wouldn't do
that.

"Let's eat, Scully. We need to eat."

She nods and stuffs the autopsy trash into a bin and makes a note on the
chart outside the door, calling instructions to the coroner at the desk as
he leads her out.

She follows him and says nothing about his odd behavior.
~~~~~

She watches him sink into the booth with an easy, grateful air, and then
slip across the slick plastic so that she can sit with him.

He's never done that before, but she sidles up next to him and tries to
forget about all the strange things he's done on this case already.

His lips quirk as he orders a burger and then his eyes glint when she
takes the offer of a chicken salad. The waitress leaves them and Scully
tilts her head to watch him again.

He is studying the wooden table intensely, believing there is some great
truth behind it's stained, carved veneer, hoping to find his path in the
well worn grooves declaring the love between former patrons and their
significant others.

She chuckles and takes his chin with one finger to tilt it back up, then
smiles into his eyes, her own giving him permission, handing him his
forgiveness.

She has forgiven him again, and he is relieved.

This time, he thought maybe he had gone too far.

She takes his hand in hers and squeezes it softly.

"I understand," she says and smiles sadly.

He blows out a breath.

She always understands.
~~~~~

one week later
~~~~~

"This case is twisted, Mulder. They're coming on to help. They promised to
let you run it your way, but Mulder, you have to let them into your loop.
I can handle not knowing, because I realize you'll let me in on your great
secret eventually. They can't work like that."

Mulder glares at her and shifts to the side, hating that she is right, but
hating more that she is taking their side.

"Scully, they said I could run this how I wanted. I'm running it like
this."

She grows exasperated and twists away from his outstretched hand, a look
of almost disgust on her face.

But the thing is, she can understand what he means. And she knows this is
how he works.

For once though, for once, can't he fall into the mainstream? Can't he do
things like everyone else?

She sighs.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm just tired of defending you at every turn."

He freezes and she feels her blood draw away from her face.

She didn't meant it like that. Not like that at all.

"I never asked you to defend me. You don't have to be my personal
guardian, Scully."

But his voice is soft, hurt, not the hard she expects.

"Mulder. . ."

"No, Scully, I know you get a lot of grief because of me."

"Mulder, really, I don't-"

He turns away, abruptly ending their discussion, making her shudder with
the wound gaping open in him.

She has to fix this, somehow. She knows she can't let this fester between
them.

But then, the agents on loan from VCS come waltzing in, their grins of
disdain including her in their making fun, drawing her into their crowd.
Mulder sees this and takes it as her inclusion in their constant
belittlement of him, and he sits down and forges on.

"Our killer has begun to escelate again, and once agian his methods have
become more involved, more impossible to determine, more intricate."

Mulder pauses, glances with remorse to Scully, and continues his lecture.

"His hunt of these women has become more than just a game. . ."

By his face, she can see that he now thinks of her as a part of 'them',
those out to get him, or at the very least, to hurt him.

She bites her lip and listens, trying to give him the attention he
deserves.
~~~~~

"Agent Spooky, uh, Scully, can-"

Agent Greenspan's words are cut off by the snickering of his partner, and
Scully turns in frigid anger to their workstation.

Mulder has said nothing this entire time and she wishes he would take up
for her, like he had been doing all before.

But he remains stubbornly silent, refusing to look over at her, pretending
maybe that he does't even hear.

She hates this. Hates how these two agents have turned her and Mulder's
partnership into a simple, petty thing.

She ignores the agents and continues to review the notes from her autopsy
findings, thinking and feeling that the answer is in the reports, and
knowing also that if only Mulder will talk it over with her, they can find
it.

She sighs and raises up, then gathers her things.

"I'm leaving. You guys go ahead and keep at it. I just need to concentrate
a little better."

It is a slight against Agent Greenspan and Agent Collins, and even Mulder,
but they acknowledge her with a mere nod and let her walk out.

She sighs and heads for the stairs, ready to flee from this basement
prison.

She can't understand why everytime someone on the outside comes in, things
get so bad between them.

It is partly her fault . . . maybe even mostly her fault. But he still is
not helping any.

He still isn't talking to her.
~~~~~

The apartment is silent, but her door is swinging open in a draft and her
lights are blazing.

She stops, breathes in quickly, shuffles to the hallway again.

Then she turns and runs, heading back for her car, knowing somewhere in
her that they are chasing a woman killer, trying to hunt down a serial
murderer, and that he is mean.

He is mean.

And quick.

She feels the hands, screams from the overwhelming terror slashing through
her, and skids down the stairs with the feel of the man behind her.

Her hair is pulled, her body snatched back, and she feels bile rise in her
throat.

She is falling back, back into *him* and oh . . . oh, please. . . she
whimpers, Mulder.

A jerk and there is 	freedom! 	and she runs and runs and runs out
into the dark of the parking lot, runs until nothing is in her lungs, and
she is safe in her car.

Safe.

The engine starts at once and she thanks a merciful God, then tries to
stop shaking long enough to shift into first.

As she peals out of the parking garage, she sees a dark shape darting
away.
~~~~~

"What's with your partner, Agent Mulder?"

Greenspan looks over at him with thick eyebrows and an honestly ugly face.

Mulder looks at them in contempt. "What do you mean?"

"She's so . . . hard. There's no emotion in her. I mean, she's a woman,
and hot, but inside, there's just all this cold. . . cold . . .nothing."

Mulder shakes his head bitterly at what they are trying to do.

"Look, Greenspan, you won't get me to talk bad about my partner. There's
no way in hell I'd ever do that. Maybe she might join in with you in
ribbing me, but to me, she's the best there is. So just shut up about it."

Greenspan looks over to his own partner and smiles softly.

"You think she talks bad about you, Mulder? What kind of faith in her do
you have? She doesn't talk about you, she sits here and calmly, rationally
displays every single good quality you have and argues with us that you're
right, that you're some kind of super human while we sit here and laugh at
her. She's totally in love with you man. She thinks you're God or
something. But the weird thing is, she sits there like a hunk of ice and
ticks off your good points, a few of which I know she made up, and doesn't
react at all. She may adore you, but there's no heart to her at all."

Mulder lunges from his chair, his face raging as he hears these words from
this man.

In a flash, Mulder can feel Greenspan's jacket in his hands, can feel the
fear behind the man.

"You are a small, small man. Agent Scully has more emotion and feeling
than you can ever even hope to have. Like you said, she's being good and
true to our partnership and you laugh at her, right? You're slime,
Greenspan. Slime. Don't you forget it."
~~~~~

He is miserable, his tie stuffed into his pocket, his eyes rubbed over by
a weary hand.

He shakes his head and unlocks his apartment door, then steps into the
familiar darkness, yearning for the solitary mourning he seems to engage
in at least once a month.

Mourning because once again, he has messed up, he has screwed things over
with his idiocy and his  need to see bad in everything good in his life.

She is good, she is good to him, and he hurts her more.

A noise makes him pause and he tenses, listening.

"Mulder?"

He jerks and looks up, sees her standing in front of his couch, remembers
other times he has seen her there. In pain, in fear, in hurt and in shame.

There is never anything good here for her.

"Scully. . ."

"Please don't . . . "

She stops because she cannot say what she needs to. Cannot ask him to hold
her because he is angry with her, hurt  because of her, and she has no
business asking him for anything.

She wants to say, please don't make me leave.

But her words choke and she hangs her head.

He seems to be oblivious.

"Scully, I'm sorry. I know you were taking up for me and that it's not
easy."

She jerks her head up, not expecting this, not hoping for his apology so
soon.

The room looks very big and him far away and she wants to run across it
and have him slip his arms around her.

"Why are you here, Scully?" he asks suddenly, as if noticing that it is
midnight and she is at his apartment, standing in the dark, her gun drawn.

"My . . . someone broke into my apartment. Chased me. . ."

She can't say the rest, can't continue because her voice will crack and
she will lose her control and never get it back.

And above everything, she needs control in front of him. Without it, she
is lost.

He is suddenly there, no steps having been taken, but simply standing
before her, arms coming to encircle her, pulling her deep within himself.

"It's okay," he whispers and to her horror, she knows she is crying into
his shoulder.

"I thought it was him. He was after me. . .and I . . .I came here because
I felt safer here."

He listens to her words, amazed.

"You feel safe here?"

She nods softly and he draws her closer to him.

"It's okay. You can stay here, right?"

"Yeah."

"We'll report it tomorrow. We can say you stayed here with me to go over
the case, that you didn't find it until the next morning."

She nods, glad that he is understanding that she hates her loss of
control.

She knows she should have called the police, not run to Mulder's house.

He leads her to the couch and sinks into it, taking her with him, letting
his body warm her shivering one.

"I'm sorry Mulder."

He shakes his head. "You didn't do anything-"

"I did. I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I just don't know why I let them get to
me every time."

He shakes his head. "As long as we come back together, we're all right."

She shivers.

Dips her head into his shoulder and closes her eyes.

And thinks:

What if next time they didn't come back together?

They go nowhere in their lives, and all the time, they say nothing, they
achieve nothing.

Their eyes talk, tell secrets that could never be kept.

All this time, right there.

She pushes deeper into him and breathes in.

All her life, right there in him.
~~~~~

end
adios
RM