Disclaimer:  They're not mine.  They're much more
romantic in my little universe, though.  

Category:  A,  MSR 
Rating:  R (language)
Archive: Gossamer and Shannon (if you want to).
Summary:  Mulder's thoughts of Scully late at night.
Feedback:  Yes, I need to be validated that people like me and
my writing. ;-)   

"Late Night Brooding"
by Lisa
(haven599@msn.com)

For Leyla, who urged me to try. 

   This is the time of night I think about her.  Late.  Very late.
The middle of the night.  I don't sleep much, so I've got plenty
of time to think about my life.  *Our* life.  I wonder how it could
have been different.  If we never met.  
   Scully's life might be . . . no would have been better without me.
She'd definitely be safer.  No abduction. No cancer.  Her sister would
still be living.  She'd probably have a normal life - a husband, 
children, a medical practice.  Scully would be happy and never know
about this other side of life.  Never know the darkness that I exist 
in and must thrive in to find the truth.  More importantly, I wouldn't
have fucked up her life, putting her through all this shit constantly.  

   Ok, so what if we had met under different circumstances. She 
could have still worked for the bureau, but maybe we started dating. 
But, I can't see us out on a date together.  Would the dinner 
conversation flow effortlessly from topic to topic or would there
be awkward pauses? 

   I am unable to fathom what my life would be like without her. 
The X-Files would probably be shut down, as they were already
getting annoying by me working on them solo -  telling me my 
talents could be put to better use.  Whatever.  So, our paths wouldn't 
have crossed, professionally or personally.  

   It's the personal aspect that keeps running through my mind. 
What if  we became lovers? Right after the time of her cancer 
diagnosis. At that point I realized just to what lengths they'd go
to hide their secrets.  Their ultimate plans.  Exposing innocent
women to cancer - *causing* this cancer by a procedure to remove
their eggs for a selfish master plan.  How am I supposed to protect
her? I can't be with her 24 hours a day to ensure her safety.  I feel
I need to apologize to her for all she's been through since the 
beginning. No one should have to endure what's she has suffered.
I want to hold her whispering promises that nothing will ever happen
to her again as long as I'm alive.  But, she wouldn't want that.  It 
would mean allowing herself to be vulnerable.  To show that side
to me, admitting that she can't handle everything that comes her 
way.  She can't always be *fine.*  Anyway, back to the possibility 
of us as lovers, it seems right to me.  I want to touch her, not like
I do now, but really touch her.  I want to find out if her skin is 
really as soft as it looks.  I want to have her sleep in my arms 
all night after we make love.  Then, she'd have to let me in - let
me get that close, physically and emotionally. I need to hear her
fears and hope for the future and have her trust me enough to listen.
I want to hear them, since I'm falling in love with her.  Honestly.  
This is so different than any other relationship I've had in the past.
How in the hell am I supposed to tell her this? When? In one of our
many long drives? In some small town?  In a motel room?  The truth
is that I'm scared shitless to say anything, to do anything that might
change what we have now.  Or it could be better?  We are so trusting
and with everything else but our feelings for each other. Someone has
to be the first one to reach out.

   It's almost 7 o'clock now.  Maybe I should go over to her 
place with breakfast and take a chance. Yeah, right and say in
between bites of a bagel, "I'm falling in love with you."  That's
real romantic.  I don't think there will ever be a perfect time.  
If I wait too much longer, she could be taken away from me 
again and this time it could be forever.  I wouldn't be able
to forgive myself if that happened.  If she died . . . I don't 
know what'd I'd do.  I need her.  Always.  

   I hear a soft knock at my door, taking me out of my reverie.
I wished they'd go away.  I don't want to see anyone right 
now.  No one is worth getting up this early for.  I shut my eyes
hoping the person will give up and leave me to my own thoughts.
I hear Scully's voice calling my name softly on the other side of
the door.  I rush over to answer it, thinking something is wrong.
Why else would she be here at this hour?  

   Scully walks through the door, apologizing for the early hour
carrying two Styrofoam cups of coffee and a brown paper bag 
with grease seeping through the sides of it. Breakfast, I hope.
She's not dressed in the usual pant suit, but a T-shirt and jeans
and yet this attire makes her look even more beautiful.  I watch
her walk over to the table and set the hot cups down along with
the brown bag.  
   "Mulder . . what is it?"  she asks.
   I then realize that I had been staring at her.  Her movements.
How mundane this gesture seemed, but also special at the same 
time.  I walked over to her, catching her off guard and touch her
cheek.  Caressing it with my palm.  Before she has time to say 
anything I kiss her softly.  Tenderly.  I feel her arms come around
my waist as she responds and leans into the kiss.  I pull away to
look at her face.  I see a look of contentment.  Fulfillment.  My
arms are still around her and my hands begin to touch her back  
before moving underneath her shirt.  She closes her eyes with 
pleasure.
   "I know you would feel this soft, Scully."  I breathe against 
her cheek.  
   Breakfast is quickly forgotten as our hunger for each other 
is greater.

END