Stratego
by Mish
Email: mish_rose@yahoo.com

Begun: February 1999
Finished: April 1999

Classification: MSR, Scully/Mulder first person
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Tithonus, vague references to FTF and Season 5 and 6
Summary: War games, mind games and sex games.
Archive: Yes to Gossamer, anywhere else just let me know, ok?
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and Walter
Skinner are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.
They are not mine and never will be (*sob*).

Author's Note: This is set in the time period between Tithonus and
TF/OS;  Mulder and Scully have yet to be re-assigned to the X-Files.

Also, I was days away from posting this when I read "Lost" by Dreamshaper.
There are similarities, which I'm sure will be noticed; it was not
intentional, be assured.  Although if this story is half as good as "Lost", I
will be happy.



Part One

For what possible purpose do I even come to work anymore?
Could this job get any worse?  Surrounded by personality deprived
government employees in cubicles just like mine, their faces as
drab as the imaginary walls that separate us.  Bored beyond
belief, I try to check my hair in the computer screen in front of me.
Oh my God, I'm green!  No, wait a minute, that's the color of the
antiquated dBase program I use to enter these dreadful fertilizer
reports.  Sometimes when I've finished for the day, I notice that
everything around me has a distinct pink haze to it.  I even did a
little research into it; it seems the eyes overcompensate for being
exposed to the unnatural green color of the words on the computer
monitor. It doesn't hurt; actually, it's kind of nice to see life through
semi-permanent rose colored glasses.  With this work looming
over me, I'll take anything I can get to lighten the mood.

Mulder, of course is not at all bothered by the "pink haze".  He's
color-blind, so the acid green screen has no effect on him
whatsoever.  He does,  however, think that it's "cool" to see the
world through that calming filter.  Yeah, right.  Like it makes my
life soooo much better.

I look up from the screen and crane my neck over my monitor to
find his back to me.  He's totally engrossed in something on his
screen (and I'd bet that it wasn't fertilizer reports).

"Mulder!" I snap, causing him to jerk around suddenly.  I notice
he's still managing to hide the screen from my view.

"What?"  He's nervous, I can tell.  Fidgeting hands, slightly raised
eyebrows, small congenial smile.  Yep, he's hiding something.

"Could you possibly finish last week's reports?  Because I really
am getting tired of sitting in front of this computer.  The "pink
haze" is coming on, I can feel it."  Good Dana, generate
sympathy, make him feel guilty.  Whatever he's playing with he
should have shared, dammit.

That got his attention.  "Ooooh, the "pink haze", huh?  I've always
wanted to ask you Scully --- Is it very peaceful looking at the world
through a rosy haze?"  Those eyebrows bounce suggestively a
couple of times." Would you say that it's a turn-on?"

I roll my eyes, ignoring that last question, then say with all
seriousness, "Peaceful?  I wouldn't say that.....It does, however,
have advantages."

Crossing my arms and standing, I covertly peer over his shoulder
only to notice that his screen saver has kicked in.  Shit, now I'll
never satisfy my curiosity.

"Oh, yeah, like what?"  He crosses his arms too, and leans back in
his chair.  He knows he's relatively safe from my prying eyes.
Smug bastard.

"Well, I finally get to see what you would look like in pink.  Very
flattering color on you Mulder, I must say."  The white shirt he is
wearing today looks most definitely pink.  I turn to retrieve my
briefcase from my under my desk.  Can't resist another poke at
him, though.  "You know, like Ralphie in the bunny suit on A
Christmas Story."

"Adorable?"

"No, more like a deranged Easter bunny."

"Ha, ha, Scully." He's seen that I'm preparing to leave so he rises
as well.   "Somewhere you have to be?  It's only 3:30," he says,
looking pointedly at his watch.

"I have to attend the United Way drive meeting; I was asked to
chair this section's fund-raising efforts this year, remember?"  I
turn abruptly around  halfway out of the office door only to bump
into him right behind me.

"Sorry," he mumbles sheepishly, stepping aside to let me get back
to my desk.  "So I guess you're not coming back today, huh?"
With his hands in his pockets and an overdone pout, he looks
sincerely saddened by my  departure.  Saddened by the work he'll
have to finish, is more like it.

"I don't think so, Mulder.  If I'm lucky, I'm done for the day."  I'm
hurriedly rifling through the papers on my desk, searching for the
United Way folder I pulled out after lunch.  Doesn't take me long
to find it - unzipping my briefcase, I slip it in and turn once again to
leave.  He shuffles past me on his way back to his workstation.
<God, but he smells good!>, I think as I now step aside to let him
pass.  That scent that is uniquely his - a combination of healthy
sweat and soap.  No prissy cologne for my Mulder.  My Mulder?
Enough of that, time to go.  I'm late already.  But not late enough
to avoid one last shot.

After he sits dejectedly, I lean over his shoulder and whisper into
his ear, "Oh, by the way, Mulder. My pink haze is most definitely
not peaceful;  actually it *is* rather arousing."

Take that, Mr. Sneaky.  I turn and saunter away confidently,
feeling his gaze upon my departing backside.


**********


I do *not* gaze at Scully.  Alright, maybe I'm gazing (rather
stupidly) now, but nobody's paying enough attention to me to
notice it.

How could I not?

She just shocked the hell out of me.  Scully never speaks to me in
that breathy tone.   Down boy, no use wasting that energy now.
Save it for later.

Yes, that's what I meant.  Later, when I finally summon the
courage to lay it all on the line.  Declare my intentions.  Profess
my undying devotion.  Whatever.  Tell her I love her.

Like I haven't done that already.  Geez, what does it take to get
through to this woman? I've asked her to marry me.  I told her she
made me whole.  I even told her not long ago that I loved her.  I
know she doesn't take me seriously;  I really can't blame her.
From the first day we met I've acted like a nervous geek - all jokes
and harmless innuendo.  And now, when I really need for her to
see me, the real me, she keeps brushing me off.  So it's time for
some action.

Call me General Mulder from now on.

First things first.  Surreptitiously eyeing my computer screen
again, I bring up the file I was working on in the document1
window (the fertilizer report gets relegated to document2 status; I
know my priorities).  I've entitled it "STRATEGO".  Yes, it does
bring back some unpleasant memories; but it was, however a
game that "Fox Mulder - Super Genius"  mastered very early in
life.

God, how I hate working on computers.  So, I'm old-fashioned; I
would much prefer putting my thoughts down on paper.  In this
case, however, it wouldn't do for Scully to find this laying around.
She knows exactly how I operate.  My computer would be the last
place she would look if she were snooping; just as I know her
computer would be the first place I would look.  And they say oil
and water don't mix.  Just add a little dispersant and that problem
is solved.

Sure, I figure I can win her over by following a simple
organizational plan.  Type up a list of attack points and follow it
one by one until she's surrendered.  Easy, right?  I dive into my
plan with determined zeal.  Today is D-day, after all.
Dana-will-be-mine day, that is.


**********


God, but I'm exhausted.  All I would like now is to be at home,
soaking in the tub with a glass (no, make that bottle) of wine at my
fingertips.  Then Mulder  would saunter in, wearing nothing but
that smile of his.  Quickly the fantasy fast-forwards into a tangle of
arms, legs and mouths; my bathroom is soon filled with moans
and sighs.....The elevator groans to a halt on my floor and my
fantasy bath disappears with a jarring lurch.  Just as well, I
suppose.  My fantasies are unrealistic and will only lead to further
frustration.  With a shaky breath, I straighten my shoulders and
trudge down the hall to the bullpen of desks that we now call
home.  Glancing at my watch, I finally notice why everything
seems so quiet.  It's after six p.m.; only a workaholic fool like me
would feel compelled to check on the status of those weekly
reports after having practically slept through another boring
meeting.  There are, I am relieved to notice, several desk lamps
still glowing as I pass certain doors.

I cursorily nod at A. D. Kersh's secretary, Lynn, as I pass her
door.  She glances up, notes that Mulder is not with me, and
frostily nods. <I know, my dear.  Join the club.>  She's not the only
one, either.  I could name a half-dozen females up and down the
chain of command that fantasize about  Mulder like I do.  He's
totally oblivious to the stares and sighs he receives from the
opposite sex.  If you're not levitating or morphing, forget it honey.

Shaking my head with sympathy, I practically stumble into the
door of our office and am amazed to find that Mulder is gone.  He
never leaves this early. <Must have had a hot date with his VCR>,
I snort to myself.  I guess my little remark about "my arousing
haze" didn't pique his interest quite enough to get him to stick
around.  Face it Dana, you can't expect miracles.  Although I very
seldom "flirt" with Mulder in that way, when I do, it usually pays off
with a little extra attention from him.

Maybe I'm going about this all wrong.  Sitting at my desk, it
suddenly occurs to me that I've quite possibly been "too"
professional with him in the past .  I've never been comfortable
with revealing too much of myself to people; it's just not me.
Lately, though, I thought we had gotten past some unseen bump in
the road.  I know I'm receptive to any advances he may make;
maybe I just haven't let him know that clearly enough.  Maybe......

Hard stop!!! My conscience slams home this very important fact:
If Mulder wanted to be with you, he would have told you so by
now.  You are just his good friend, that's all you will ever be.

Okay, okay.  Get a grip, girl.  Concentrate on the work and make
your life easier.

Once I've regained control, I scan my desk surface quickly for the
completed reports.  The sooner I find them, the sooner I can go
home.  My in box looks suspiciously empty.  Damn him!  I should
have known better than to leave any unfinished paperwork for
Mulder to do.  Fuming, I push away from my desk and storm into
the disaster area he calls his own.

Rifling through the stacks of other unfinished work he conveniently
shoved aside, I continue to curse him under my breath.  Why do I
let him do this to me? Now I'll have to stay for another two hours
and clean up once again.  I pause with my face raised to heaven
and say a silent prayer to any and all saints.  Please let me find
them somewhere, I beg.

Like a thunderbolt it hits me - could he have done them and just
not printed them out?  Please, let it be so.

His chair almost throws me like a bucking bronco when I flop into
it and face his computer. Whoa, boy.  Not used to having me here,
are you?  The computer quickly boots up and I enter his password.
It's a good thing he trusts me enough these days to tell me what it
is; he never wanted to tell me the first couple of years we were
together.  His file organization skills, however, leave a lot to be
desired.  Not much here on his hard drive, I see when I open
Windows Explorer.  He never was one to use the computer a lot.
Likes to use the pen and paper.  Okay, let's start with the obvious.
Files modified on today's date.

"Reports".  Double click.

Wordperfect opens from Windows Explorer and what I thought
may have been paydirt is actually his expense reports.  You mean
he did his expense reports this month?  Unbelievable.  Close that
one;  delete it later if I don't find what I'm looking for.  That'll show
him.

"Kersh".  Double click.

I nearly explode with laughter when Paint Shop Pro opens and a
photograph of what bears an uncanny resemblance to our boss
flashes onto the screen.   At the bottom of the picture is printed
"Krewe of Petronius Bal Masque 1998".  He's .........well, let's just
say that I didn't realize that the boss was a big fan of  the Mardi
Gras.  That can't be him - it has to be a fake.  The Gunmen must
have sent Mulder that pick-me-up.  I'll have to look surprised when
he shows it to me on Monday.   Yes, let's close that one quickly.
Wouldn't do to have anybody else see this.

"POOPOO".  Must be it.  Has to be it.  Double click.

Jackpot!  I should have known he would enter this data in Lotus.
He hates dBase.  As I also should have known he would think this
was shit.  Hell, I even think it's shit, but I wouldn't go so far as to
name the file "Poopoo". Okay, this is easily taken care of.  I can
re-enter it in dBase at home Sunday.  But where is the report he
should have generated from this data?  It has to be in the word
processor somewhere.  Okay, if I don't find a report, at least I
won't have to read the numbers from his hand written field notes.
Relieved beyond measure, I click the print icon then close the file.
As it prints on the other side of the room, I slide the arrow up and
close Lotus.  The Windows Explorer screen reappears and just as
I'm about to "x" that out too, something else catches my eye.....

"STRATEGO".

What's this?  A moment before I double click this file, I realize that
this is bordering on invasion of privacy.  Sure, we all do some
amount of personal work on our computers, but nothing really
serious and secretive.  The word "stratego" seem harmless
enough;  it was, however, the board game that he and his sister
were playing the night she was abducted.  Probably pertains to
that.  It was last modified today.  Oh shit.  Did he have contact
with a new source today?  Could he have learned of something
that sent him off on another dangerous wild goose chase?
Dangerous?  Okay, I've justified opening the file.

Double click.


**********


Plunk!  Damn!  There go my keys onto the floor by the soggy
umbrella I dropped seconds before.  Balancing the bag of supplies
in my left arm, I gingerly squat and retrieve them without too much
trouble.  What else can go wrong today?  I mean, are the gods
frowning upon my little endeavor or what?  About the only thing
that's gone right since I left early was the fact that I *did* happen
to sneak out without being caught.

Finally I shoulder open the door and drop the paper bag onto my
coffee table, then wince as I realize what I just did.  Shit - hope I
didn't break anything!  Nope, everything's okay.  It would be just
my luck if I smashed the bottle of wine in a fit of frustration.  Yes,
wine.  One of the major types of ammunition at my disposal this
evening.  I know it's cliche', but if I remember correctly from my
college days, it should still be effective.

If the mini-disasters keep up though, I may not be physically fit
enough to reap the benefits.

First of all, the piece-of-shit bureau car I drive wouldn't start.
Luckily the guy in the slot next to me had jumper cables.  Seems I
had forgotten to take the headlights off this morning.  At least the
trip to the liquor store was uneventful.  Except that I had to park
two blocks away and the heavens opened up on me just as I was
exiting the store.

The salesgirl at the flower shop, I believe, felt rather sorry for me.
Considering I looked like a drowned puppy, it's no wonder.  She
practically told me I could come over to her place to "warm up".
But I didn't want sympathy or whatever else she was offering;  all I
wanted was some flowers, not a come-on.  Why do women find
me attractive?  Especially when I don't want or need the attention.
I've never seen anything when I look into the mirror that warrants
this reaction. Big nose and an awful haircut.  That's all I ever see.

Suddenly I realize that it's approaching six o'clock and if I want to
be at Scully's place for eight I have to get a move on.  I strip
hurriedly on my way to the bathroom, dropping the water-logged
suit on my bedroom floor as I go.  Well, I suppose it's salvageable;
I go through suits fairly quickly in my line of work and they don't
come cheap.

You wouldn't think that even more water pounding on you would
make you feel better but when it's hot water, it makes a hell of a
difference.  I could blissfully stay here forever, but my future
awaits.  Just thinking of the night ahead creates a buzz of
anticipation; I feel my legs getting weak and if I had anything in
my stomach, I would probably throw up. <Easy Mulder>, I tell
myself as I wrap a towel around my waist and carefully step out of
the shower.  How would you explain a hospital visit on the phone
to Scully - "Um Scully?  I'm in the Georgetown Emergency Room;
I fell and knocked myself silly in the shower because I was anxious
to jump your bones tonight?"  Yeah, that would go over really well.

Okay, what's next?  Shaving.  Yes, shaving's good.  Some of my
best ideas have come to me while I was shaving.  There's a
chance to contemplate many of life's mysteries while making
scrunching faces in the mirror.  If I don't slash my throat because
of nervousness, that is.

You know, I guess I wouldn't even have considered any of this if
she hadn't almost died not long ago by the hand of that prick
Ritter.  Seeing her bloodless face once again on a hospital bed
pillow finally woke me up to the possibility of life without her.  I
can't let her live another day not knowing what she means to me.
If she doesn't return my feelings, that's fine; I already know that
she loves me.  I'm her best friend.  We've got the kind of platonic
love relationship that is unheard of between men and women.
Face it, friendship between members of the opposite sex is a
rarity.  It's great to be friends with a woman.  Some guys just don't
understand it or want it.  I never had a problem with it.

Until now.

Not that I have a problem with the friendship, per se.  No, not at
all.  I just want the benefits of a romantic love relationship too.
Sounds like I'm thinking with my dick, huh?  Well, okay, having
sex would certainly be a welcome change for ol' Woody here.
Looking down, it crosses my mind that Woody may not even
respond to a living, breathing female.  He's been fed a diet of
videos and magazines for far too long.

But I don't want just that.  I want the closeness, the cuddling that
comes with being in  love.  I want to watch her sleep in my arms
and then kiss me awake.  I want to watch her eat ice cream right
out of the carton.  I want to see her cry at sappy movies.  I want all
these things that I'm missing by being alone.  And I want them with
her, only her.

My watch sounds the alarm for the hour and snaps me back into
reality.  Shit!  It's seven o'clock already!  No time to waste.  Only
one hour more to go.  I get dressed  in record time, pick up what I
braved the elements for, and dash out the door.

**********
Part Two

Disclaimers, etc. in part one.

*********

Oh my God.  My heart surges and my stomach plummets with the
adrenaline rush caused by the unbelievable words I see before me.
Flowers, wine, dinner. Mulder details a plan guaranteed to win the
heart of any woman out there.  Right down to the letter.  That's just
like him.

As I scan the document slowly, it dawns on me that many of these
details involve the tastes of one particular woman: me.  Jesus, this
is Mulder's plan to win me over!  White wine, yellow roses, tickets
for the Sunday afternoon symphony.  They're performing an all
Beethoven program; I know this because I phoned Mom Monday
afternoon (in his presence) and asked if she would attend with me.
His Violin Romance No. 2 is one of my favorites.  When she told
me she had other plans, I figured I would go alone.

Now I know who will be affectionately hiding his utter dislike for
classical music by enduring it for me.

I sit in utter shock for a few minutes while the exhilaration wears
off; a myriad of emotions crash into me one after another like
waves at the beach.  Excitement (yes, finally!), indignation (how
dare he!), fear (what if someone finds out?);  after giving each one
little thought, I am left with the inescapable conclusion that this is
right.

This is what I've wanted for years now.  Calm descends over me
with a gentle sigh.  I could sit here and overanalyze his motives
and mine until doomsday but the fact remains that we would still be
in love with each other.  We belong together; and if it takes
strategic planning on his part to achieve this goal, then so be it.
Mulder has always had trouble expressing his feelings to me.  Hell,
I'm just as guilty of aloofness as he is.  I tried once before in a
seedy hotel in Florida to loosen up and he ran like a deer caught in
the headlights.  What  made him pick today to expose all?  I really
don't know and I really don't care.  The fact is, he's ready and by
God, so am I.

I power down his computer and breathlessly gather my things for
the trip home.  Panic has now set in as I realize I have lots to do.
The apartment is a mess, my legs haven't been shaved in days,
and the sheets on my bed really should be changed.  Optimistic,
aren't I?  Damn straight I am.  This girl has had enough of  solitary
nights and electric blanket warmth.

The elevator comes at my call within seconds; juggling my laptop
and briefcase, I board it with some difficulty.  Why I'm bringing the
computer home I'll never  know; if I'm lucky I won't even get a
chance to use it.  I guess the workaholic in  me subconsciously
picked it up.  Impatiently rolling my eyes skyward, I can't  seem to
stand still.

Ping!  Dammit!  The elevator stops at the fourth floor, further
impeding my progress.  Jesus, I didn't even notice before I got in
that this car was going up!  Shit!  I am not surprised to see Skinner
when the doors open, but he seems mildly taken aback to see me.

"Agent Scully."  He greets me coolly and enters the car, taking up a
considerable amount of space.

I return the greeting with a strained smile.  "Sir.  Er, um, I wasn't
paying attention to the arrows before I got on."  How embarrassing.
I quickly change the subject.  "How are things in your part of  the
building?"  I hate making small talk.

He obliges me by pushing the button for the parking garage.
"Business as usual."  He faces me, even though I haven't dropped
my eyes from the slowly moving floor numbers.  From his stance, I
can tell he has something on his mind. <Not now>, I inwardly
groan.  "Scully, if you have a few moments, I'd like to have a word
with you."

No! No! No!  Just when I was almost home free!

Diplomacy rules, however, and I stumble over my reply.  "Uh, sir...I
was on my way home.  Can this wait until Monday?"  Please, God.
I glance at him suspiciously, still not completely sure of his motives.
At last, the elevator stops at the lower level parking garage.

He follows me out and insists with an impatient scowl, "This won't
take long.  May I walk you to your car?"

"Of course, sir.  Would you mind?..."  I offer the laptop to him to
hold so I can find my keys.  He accepts graciously and falls into
step beside me.

He wastes no time in stating what's on his mind.  "I've been trying
to get with either you or Mulder privately for days now."

"Sir, we've been exactly where we are supposed to be.  Mulder or I
would have been right down to your office if you had just called."
Now I'm thoroughly exasperated and I hope he can tell.  One day
he's your friend; the next day he totally ignores you.  I never know
where I stand with Skinner.  He and Mulder have always had a
better understanding of each other.

He drops a light hand on my arm, stopping me.  In a hushed voice
he snaps back, "This is *not* a matter for office discussion.  There
are prying eyes and ears everywhere."

Don't I know it.  But I remain stubborn and continue to rile him.
"Okay, sir.  You have until the time I reach my car to speak your
piece."  I start on my merry way again, not really caring if he's
following or not.

He is.

"Okay, Scully."  Now he's more cooperative, apologetic even.  "I
know I haven't been very helpful to you and Mulder lately, but I just
wanted you to know that I have some information that you may find
enlightening.  Maybe even good news."

Bet it can't beat what I just discovered.  But curiosity gets the better
of me and I ask anyway.

"Good news?  Pertaining to what?"  Keep moving legs, almost
there.

"I have reason to believe that the X-Files will soon be returned to
the two of you."

Shit.  That stops me cold.  Boy, was I ever not expecting *that*.
After a brief moment of disbelief, I slowly turn to meet his eyes.
He's deadly serious, I can tell.  Why would he lie, after all?  He
knows how much this means to us.  But skeptical Scully steps in to
take charge.

"Oh yeah, and where did you get that idea?" Cynicism drips from
every word.

"Would you lower your voice?", he rasps, eyes darting around like
he's expecting the cars to have ears.  He firmly grasps my elbow
and guides me to a dimmed portion of the garage.  "From the
evaluations I've seen of Spender's work, or "non-work" I should
say, he's going to be replaced in a matter of weeks.  The case
solve ratio has dropped tremendously and even his connections
will not help him when the director himself is taking notice."

Now I'm really shocked and I'm sure it shows on my face.  "The
director?" I squeak.

With a nod, a fleeting smile passes over his face.  " That's right, the
director himself called me in today.  He wanted my opinion on the
matter; I told him I thought the X-files would have continued to be
successful if they had only been left in the right hands.  Even Diana
Fowley, with her expertise, has not helped any.  Spender just
vetoes any suggestion she makes.  The little prick thinks he's
God."

I can't help it; a small chuckle escapes me at that.  My head drops
for a moment then I raise my eyes to Skinner's.  "I guess my Mom
was right; she always tells me what goes around comes around."

"Yeah, it seems Spender has overestimated the strength of his
connections.  And underestimated the strength of Mulder's."

That surprises me.  I didn't think Mulder had any connections.
Other than the Gunmen, that is. With narrowed eyes, I ask, "What
do you mean?"

"Let's just say that he has more than Senator Matheson on his
side. These are enlightened times, Scully.  There are highly placed
people in government who readily believe in conspiracies of any
sort these days."

He hands the laptop back to me; this conversation is coming to a
close.  "Just tell Mulder to be patient.  I'm sure everything will work
out."  Another brief smile and then he vanishes into the darkness.

"Patient?"  I murmur to myself. "Not in Mulder's dictionary."

**********

Fuck!  I slam the steering wheel with the palm of my hand and
instantly regret it.  Jesus, but that hurts!  <And it won't help the car
to get started>, states the rational part of my brain.

"Shut up, Mulder, and figure out how to start the damn vehicle," I
grumble to nobody in particular.  Fucking Taurus picks this moment
to be temperamental.  It ran fine on the way home; just the normal
groans and squeals of protest.  I tend to demand a lot from a
vehicle.  Especially when I have to be somewhere important, *like
now*.

Okay, I can do this.  Mechanically inclined I've never been, but I am
optimistic.  I pop the hood and grab my flashlight from the floor
where I threw it last week.  Everything looks okay to me; after
poking at the battery and checking the belts and hoses, I try again
to turn over the engine.  Nothing - not even the pop of the battery
firing.  I know I didn't leave the lights on but I check to make sure.
Besides, the car wouldn't let me leave the lights on, it sounds an
alarm if I do.

With a brief check of my watch, I finally conclude that I'll have to
call for help.  Benny's Garage two blocks over knows me as a
regular customer; I'll just give him a buzz.  He has 24-hour
roadside assistance, lucky for me.

He answers on the second ring.  "Benny's Garage."

"Hey Benny, it's me, Mulder."  I grimace as I notice it's starting to
sprinkle rain again.

"Yo Mulder!  How's it goin'?  Havin' a little car trouble?"  He knows
me so well.

"No, Benny, I'm calling for spiritual guidance."  Smartass.  "*Of
course* I'm having car trouble.  Why else would I be calling?"

"Oh, I just figured you wanted to fix me up with that babe you work
with, like I been askin' you to."  He laughs because he knows how
that kind of talk irks me.

I don't have time for this shit and I tell him so.  "Look Benny, shut
the hell up.  I'm stuck at my apartment.  I have an important
meeting at eight and my car won't start.  Could you just cut the crap
and give me a hand, please?"

I think he thinks I'm the FBI equivalent of James Bond.  All right, in
the past I may have led him to believe my work is more important
than it actually is but I do that to get his lazy ass moving.  And it
does the trick, because he sobers up instantly.

"Sure thing, Mulder.  I'm on my way."

Pushing "end" on my cel phone with more force than necessary, I
disconnect without so much as a goodbye. <Calm down>, I tell
myself and shut my eyes.  After a few deep breaths, I'm back in
control of the situation.  Things will work  out.  Just a glitch that's
easily taken care of.

I get out of the car to stretch my legs and forget that it is now
showering at a steady pace.  So what, I think.  I'll just wait in my
apartment.  I can see the street from here; Benny will be here
shortly.  I really should call Scully anyway to make sure she is
actually home.  That's a fine way to pass the time anyway. Talking
to my favorite girl.

As soon as I open the door and switch on the lights I hear Benny's
monster tow truck arrive.  I wave at him from the window; he knows
what to do without me.  I left the keys in it for him.  What the hell, it
won't start anyway.

Absently watching him work from my cozy spot, I dial Scully's
telephone.  The answering machine picks up after four rings.  Why
isn't she home yet?  Instead of leaving a message, I decide to try
her cel phone.  I won't panic yet.  I won't.

"Scully."  Thank goodness.

"Hey, Scully, it's me."  She's on the road, that much I can tell.
"Where have you been?  I thought you would have been home by
now."

"Oh, I just got off a little bit later than I thought.  You know how it is.
Meetings tend to drag on sometimes."

She sounds different somehow.  Tired, maybe?  "You okay?
Anything wrong?"

Big sigh.  "No, nothing's wrong.  I'm just beat.  What's up?"

I look down to see Benny giving me the thumbs up.  He must have
gotten the car started.  I signal that I'll be right down and tell Scully,
"I just need to discuss something with you.  Wanted to make sure
you were home before I came over, that's all."

"Um, Mulder, can this wait until tomorrow?  I'm really tired and if it's
okay with you, I'd like to get some rest."  Now she sounds really
down.  But I won't push it.  I can wait until tomorrow.  I want to have
her undivided attention anyway.

"Sure, Scully.  If it's okay with you, I can come over about noon.
We'll go out for lunch, okay?"

"All right, Mulder.  See you then."  She disconnects abruptly.

I'm sure disappointment is written all over my face when I meet up
with Benny again downstairs.  At least the car is running now.
That's some comfort.

"She's ready to go, Mulder.  Battery cable had gone bad.  Easily
fixed, though."  He closes the hood and winks broadly.  "Big date,
huh?"

I'm mildly shocked that he knows.  "Who says I have a big date?"

Gesturing to the vehicle, he replies, "Well, I figure she must be
something special for you to spring for roses and wine.  Not to
mention the fact that you seemed pretty upset about bein' stranded
here."

That's right.  I left the flowers and wine on the seat of the car.  "You
know, Benny, you should be working for the FBI."

He nudges me with his elbow and winks again.  "Only if I get to
have a partner as good-lookin' as yours, you know what I mean?"  I
smile ruefully.  Yep, she is mighty fine looking.

After we settle the bill, he walks back to the cab but stops before he
climbs up and smiles once again.  "You treat Scully nice, you hear.
Or you'll answer to me."

Sputtering, I stammer, "How - what - "

"Mulder, I always figured that one day you'd wake up and smell the
coffee.  Nice to know you finally did."  With a last wave, he's gone.

Jesus, am I that transparent?  No, I can't be or Scully would have
seen through me years ago.  Some people are just lucky guessers,
that's all.  I kill the motor and notice that the flowers are looking a
little worse for the wear.  Got to get them into some water, pronto.
The wine can stay there and age a bit longer.

Dejectedly trudging through the sidewalk puddles, I remember that
I *will* see Scully tomorrow.  Just a little delay.  Actually, I probably
will see her in my dreams tonight, just as I have for years now.
Reminded of a piece of poetry that serves this moment really well, I
stop and place my right hand over my heart.  My left hand, still
clutching the roses, raises up in a plea to Mrs. Feduccia in
apartment #50, who has been watching this whole farce since it
began an hour ago.

            "Come to me in my dreams, and then
            By day I shall be well again!
            For so the night will more than pay
            The hopeless longing of the day."

She scowls at me like I'm an idiot and abruptly closes her curtains.

<Groan.> Now I'm *really* getting sentimental.  Quoting love poetry
to my eighty-one year old neighbor while standing in the rain in
plain view of the whole street. Love does that to you, I suppose.
Turns otherwise intelligent men into slobbering idiots.

I'd rather be an idiot.

**********
Part Three

Disclaimers, etc. in part one.

**********

<Come on, open up.>

Isn't it a weird feeling when your eyes refuse to open in the
morning?  You try once and your eyelids stick together like they've
been glued shut.  Then you panic and rub them vigorously with
your fingers, hoping that you're not permanently blinded.  This
usually works and you feel stupid for thinking you'd never see
again.

I know why my eyes refuse to cooperate this morning and it's all
my fault.  Do I even care if I can't open them?  No.  Do I care if I
ever get up out of this bed?  Hell, no.

So, with crusty eyes and a pounding headache, I lay here and feel
sorry for myself. <Ladies and gentlemen, Dana Scully, pitiful fool.>

The mind-numbing sleep that I crave refuses to return, however,
and I am bombarded with images I'd sooner forget.  It started in the
car on the way home last night.

He just had to call, had to track me down.  Mulder can be such a
bulldog.  Tenacious and loyal, when he's worried about you he can
be a dear.  But after my conversation with Skinner, Mulder was the
last person I wanted to speak to.  At least until I could think over
how I was going to handle this revelation.

I knew I was happy for Mulder.  He would have his life's work
returned to him.  He hadn't been the same person since the x-files
were taken away.  Almost lost, like a child without its mother.  Oh,
he was the same wise-ass but he was missing that edge that made
him Mulder.

But I would now never get what I wanted.

Really, it didn't hit me until I heard his voice.  We had come so
close and fate once again conspired to keep us apart.  He was
going to come over to my apartment and tell me things in his heart
and soul that echoed what I felt in mine.  And I couldn't let him.  I
put him off with an excuse about being too tired; by the time I'd said
the words that would delay the inevitable confrontation, I had
started to cry.  Thank God the cel phone connection wasn't the
best.  Even then, he picked up on my despair and I all but hung up
on him.

I cried all the way home.

I cried so hard in the hallway outside my apartment that I dropped
my keys and couldn't find them through the blur.  Luckily my sweet
old neighbor, Mr. Hutcherson, offered his assistance even though
he had his arms full of grocery bags.  He knew, too, just by looking
at me that I was heartbroken.

"Boyfriend trouble, my dear?" He thinks Mulder is my boyfriend.
Much as I try to disabuse him of that notion, he remains steadfast
in his belief.

Sniffling, I decided that I need a little sympathy.  "Not trouble,
really.  Just a misunderstanding."  He opened my door and handed
the keys to me.

"Well, Dana, if you want me to speak to him, I will.  I hate to see
such a pretty young lady in distress like this."  He gave me a small
smile and squeezed my hand.  I couldn't  let him think the worst,
however, and I offered him a short explanation.

"Thanks, Mr. Hutcherson, but there's nothing either of us can say
or do to fix this.  Sometimes fate just isn't on your side."

"Dana, love always finds a way.  Sounds corny, I know, but it's
true."  He picked up his bags and walked away, keys in hand.
Before he entered his apartment, he turned and winked broadly,
shocking me with his last bit of advice.

"And if fate won't cooperate, tell it to fuck off."

I didn't think eighty-two year old people could swear like that.
Guess I'm naive that way.

Finally inside and secure for the night, I collapsed on my couch and
sat in total darkness for about fifteen minutes before my sensible
side kicked in.  I had to eat something and take my mind off of this
mini-catastrophe for a while.  Yeah, food sounded good.

I sniffled through a tasteless microwave egg roll.  Couldn't find
anything chocolate, wouldn't you just know it.  I think I made it
through my shower okay, but that's just optimism talking.  When
you're soaking wet, you can cry and even fool yourself into
believing you're *not* crying.

The shower helped tremendously.  So did the wine.  At midnight I
was halfway through the bottle and mellowing nicely.  Until I came
across the late movie on Channel Eight.

"North by Northwest".  Okay, I know this shouldn't make me feel
worse, but it did.  One of the most appealing aspects of this movie
is that it stars Cary Grant.  I'm a sucker for Cary Grant.  Several
years ago I came to the conclusion that Mulder reminds me of Cary
Grant in many ways.  Good looks, dry wit, innocent sophistication;
if I had to picture Mulder in a movie role, he would fit nicely into
most of Cary Grant's movies.  Even when Cary Grant tried
slapstick comedy, he pulled it off with panache.  Much as Mulder
does when he does something stupid.  He just looks so *good*
doing it.

And so this Hitchcock movie, totally lacking any sentimentality,
brought me to my knees.  I tortured myself by watching it through
until the end, then I succumbed to the next feature on the double
bill, "The Philadelphia Story".  Ah, romance.  This time with
Katharine Hepburn.  A woman after my own heart.  Torn between
practicality and sex.  Sound familiar?

It was four in the morning before I'd finally had enough of my crying
jag and hauled my sorry ass off to bed.  Don't know how I did it, but
I slept soundly until 10:30 a.m., when my inner alarm decided I'd
better get up.

So I'm laying in bed, trying like hell to think of one good reason to
greet the day when I open my eyes with a start. <Shit!  Mulder's
supposed to be here shortly to take me to lunch!>

"Think, Dana," I mutter to myself.  "There's got to be a way to get
out of it."  No way in hell I can face him today.  He'll take one look
at me and immediately know something's wrong.  Not to mention
that I could never rebuff him if he decides to tell me he loves me.  I
would fall happily into his arms and the x-files would be the farthest
thing from my mind at that moment.  Somebody has to keep a clear
head. There's nothing left to do but run.  And fast.

After wolfing down an energy bar and a cup of instant coffee, I
shower quickly and don my jogging outfit.  If I'm going to run from
Mulder, I might as well truly get some exercise while on the lam.  I
figure if I disappear for two hours or so, he'll give up on lunch
today.  Then I'll just spend the rest of the weekend at Mom's; I can
phone him before I go with a quick excuse about a family matter
that needs attention.  He'll buy that; then I won't have to see him
until Monday.  He wouldn't dare approach me with personal
conversation in the office, too many gossips around.  Then, if I can
avoid him in the off hours, maybe before too long we'll have the
basement back.  I can truly forget about a personal relationship
with him at that point.

"Stratego, huh?" I speak to myself in the bathroom mirror while
slicking my hair back into a short ponytail.  "You ain't seen nothin'
yet, bud.  You're dealing with a *master* strategist in Dana Scully."

At 11:30 I'm out the door.  My car is parked right in front of my
building, like it usually is.  I get in and drive to the neighborhood
pharmacy and leave the car there.  After a few stretches, I'm off to
run the Mulder Marathon.

**********

<Okay, this is it.> I take a deep breath and knock lightly on Scully's
door.  While waiting for her answer, I quickly check out my
appearance once again.  I dressed in my favorite black jeans, gray
t-shirt and black jacket; from the appreciative looks Scully gives me
when she sees me in this, I'm guessing it's her favorite too.
Fidgeting with the bottle of wine, I knock again, harder this time.
Maybe she's in the shower.

It's too bad the flowers didn't survive the night, I think she would
have really liked that touch.  I did manage to salvage one single
rose from the bunch that didn't look so bedraggled and it's clutched
in the hand that's now pounding on her door.

"Scully!"  Even if she's in the shower, she can't have missed that
lovesick bellow.  Her neighbor, Mr. Hutcherson, pokes his head out
of his door.

"Mr. Mulder?  What's the problem?  I thought somebody was trying
to break down Dana's door with all that noise."  He's obviously not
pleased with my antics, judging from the scowl on his face.

Putting my friendliest smile, I smoothly reply, "Oh, there's no
problem, Mr. Hutcherson.  I just had a lunch date with Dana today,
but she must be in the shower and can't hear me at the door."  That
should satisfy him; he's always liked me, that I could tell.  I think he
thinks I'm Scully's boyfriend.  That's fine with me; I can use all the
help I can get.

"Oh, but she's not home, Mr. Mulder."  He says this with a puzzled
look, like I should have known that fact already.

"Not home?" My thought processes must be on the fritz.  She *has*
to be at home; she *knew* I was coming by today.  He must be
mistaken, Scully isn't that inconsiderate.

"I saw her leave about twenty minutes ago.  Looked to me like she
was going for a run."

Going for a run?  I'm sure my shock and disbelief show plainly on
my face.  She stood me up.  She *fucking* stood me up.

"A run, huh?  Well, thanks, Mr. Hutcherson.  Guess I'll catch her
later."  The disappointment and hurt in my voice is embarrassing,
but at the moment I don't care. <Please go back into your
apartment, Mr. Hutcherson.  Before I make a total fool of myself on
Scully's doorstep and cry right here.>

"Mr. Mulder, you're welcome to wait for her at my place.  I'm sure
she won't be very much longer."  He can see my obvious distress.
I can't stay, though.  I'm not comfortable with the situation as it is
already.  Crying on the shoulder of Scully's elderly neighbor
wouldn't be my style.  Sure, I need to cry on someone's shoulder
right now, but my best friend that usually takes care of me in these
instances just ditched me.

Pulling myself together, I reply as confidently as I can.  "That's
okay, Mr. Hutcherson.  I'll call her later.  I'm sure she just forgot
about lunch today."

He seems sincere when he responds, "Yes, it probably just slipped
her mind."  He pauses a moment then adds, "Every thought
probably just flew right out of the window with the night she had last
night."

Night?  What night?  Images of Scully with some brawny Fabio
look-a-like screwing the night away flow rapidly through my
subconscious, taking some of the hurt with them and replacing it
with anger.  My eyes narrow and I step closer to the gentleman, icy
resolve slowly creeping into my voice.  "What kind of night?"

He backs away slightly and with hands raised, answers quickly.
"Oh, not *that* kind of night, Mr. Mulder.  I meant, with her obvious
misery.  The poor girl looked as though her world had just ended."

Now I'm really worried.  I place a firm hand on Mr. Hutcherson's
shoulder to stop his retreat and say in a calmer tone, "Mr.
Hutcherson, did something happen to Dana?  Is she okay?"

He pats the hand on his shoulder to reassure me.  "Sure, Mr.
Mulder, she's okay.  She just seemed very sad last night when I
saw her.  Like she had been crying for quite a while.  I asked her if
she was having boyfriend problems.  She just smiled through the
tears and said something about fate being against the two of you."

Whoa.  Brain overload.  Must get away to think, fast.

I shake his hand with maybe a little too much excitement and make
a quick getaway.  "Thanks, Mr. Hutcherson.  I understand now."
Nodding a goodbye, I notice that he's looking at me like I'm going to
fix everything.  Sure, just as soon as I figure it out myself.

I flop down onto the top step of the building's entryway and almost
scare away the big fluffy furrball of a cat that's sunning a few steps
below me. Looking with desperation at the wine bottle still waiting
to be opened I think , <Shit, I could sure use a drink about now.>

So, fate is conspiring against us, huh?  Us?  There's an "us"?  I
always knew there was, but does she?  It sounds like she's at least
considered the possibility.  I grin stupidly at the cat that's purring at
my feet.

"So, Kitty, do you think Scully wants there to be an "us"?"  She
raises her head as if to say, "You talkin' to me?" <Great, Mulder.
Carrying on a conversation with a cat.>

Looks like she's a Himalaya mix; lots of fur and beautiful blue eyes.
Reminds me of Scully's; like I really need a reminder of anything
Scully.  I have every bit of her branded on my brain.  Well, not
*every* bit, although I'm working toward that end.  Naturally she
doesn't answer, just drops her head back down and snoozes once
more.

Finally, I let myself believe that, yes, Scully has considered the
possibility of a more personal relationship between us.  I've loved
her a long time; I'm pretty sure she loves me too.  So if I'm having
these thoughts, then surely she's had them too.  And if Scully let a
neighbor assume there was more than friendship between us, then
that's proof enough for me.

But reality intrudes.  Mr. Hutcherson said she had been crying.
Apparently about "us".  Why?  Did I do something, say something
to hurt her?  Thinking back to yesterday, I can honestly say that, for
once, I don't think I behaved in my usual bone-head manner
towards her.  Actually, I was nervous as all hell.  Trying to be the
teacher's pet, as far as I'm able to be.

So I didn't offend her, to the best of my knowledge.  But the fact
remains, she ran.  Scully never runs from anything or anybody.
Yet she ran from me.  Definitely ran from me.  She put me off on
the phone last night and left me out in the cold today.   Okay, so it's
not cold outside, actually it's a pretty decent early late winter day.
But I'm determined to wallow in self-pity for a while longer.

And I do just that.  In between nuzzling Kitty with my foot and
sighing dramatically, another hour passes before I know it.
Rubbing my face with my hands then looking at my watch, I
suppose I can't kill any more time.  I'll just have to wait until Scully's
ready to approach me.  Stretching, I get up and deposit the wine
and the flowers into the trash can at the bottom of the steps.  No
use hanging on to that.  I'm tired of carrying it around all the time,
anyway.

Angrily, I open the car door.  It has suddenly become too warm and
I shed my jacket, tossing it onto the front seat of the car.  I make
the move to get in and end this miserable sojourn when a flash of
familiar red bursts around the corner and I come to a dead stop.
So does she.  We stare at each other for a few seconds before she
spins around and bolts in the opposite direction.

**********
Part Four

Disclaimers, etc. in part one

**********

God, but that felt good!  After walking/running for an hour, my body
is singing and my mind is remarkably clear.  The pharmacy where I
parked my car is across the street from me but I pass it up without
a backward glance.  Think I'll walk home; why stop now?  I can
always come back later.  Besides, I'm positive that Mulder has
come and gone.  He's probably royally pissed that I stood him up,
but it's nothing compared to the times he's left me high and dry.  It's
time he had a taste of his own medicine.

Adrenaline surges through my veins; yeah, that'll show him.

Blissfully ignoring the sounds of traffic and pedestrians, I round the
corner and start for home with a bounce in my step.  Basking in the
early spring sunshine, I don't notice the car parked right in front of
my building until it's too late.

Shit! Mulder!

He looks as though he was leaving.  The car door is halfway open
and he's just standing there, gaping at me like I'm gaping at him.
For a few seconds there is nothing on that street but the two of us,
staring at each other in frozen perfection.  Everything and everyone
slows to a grinding halt.

Then I see his hand move.

It barely shifts on the frame of the car door, but it's enough to
galvanize me into action.  The hand movement is the first step
towards confrontation, and I just can't face that now.  Pivoting
sharply, I break into a run immediately and round that corner once
again.

"Scully!" he cries, urging me to stop but only making me pull away
faster.

At the next block I hear it again.  "Scully!  Stop!"  Shit, he's following
me. <Like you didn't think he would?> Sensible Scully sneers.

"Oh shut up," I mumble to myself.  I know what I'm doing is
juvenile, but I can't make myself stop.  Fear has taken over now.
Like a child running away from a certain spanking, I know I'm just
postponing the inevitable.  His legs are longer than mine.  I know
he'll catch up with me eventually.  But maybe I can lose him before
that happens.  If I can do that, I can plead temporary insanity at my
judgement Monday.

Yeah, he might have the physical advantage but I know my
neighborhood like the back of my hand.  Though the sidewalks are
virtually empty on this lazy Saturday afternoon, I know I can find a
crowd somewhere that I can get lost in.

Then I hear it.  Carousel music.  That's it!  There's a public park two
blocks away, the name escapes me at the moment.  Every
weekend it's filled with parents, children, pet-owners and pets,
joggers, you name it.  People just enjoying the outdoors, especially
on a beautiful afternoon like this.

Yes!  Luck is with me today; I catch sight of the park with no time to
spare.  Mulder is breathing down my neck, I can feel it.  I know if I
turn around, he'll gain that extra second or two he needs to put an
end to this chase.

There's some kind of fair going on today at the park; in addition to
the carousel, I see clowns and booths with games and all sorts of
foods.  The park is practically overflowing with kids and baby
carriages.  For once I'm glad I'm not a big person; I should blend in
pretty well.

I decide to get into the longest line I can find.  The carousel line will
do nicely.  Merging in somewhere in the middle, I ignore the angry
stares and mumbles I get from the harried mothers I cut in front of.
God, I wish I had something to cover my hair with!  It's like an
alarm to Mulder.  Instead, I crouch slightly between the women who
would certainly like to hurt me now.  Sympathetic they will not be.

And there he is.  He comes to a screeching halt not fifteen feet
away from me, sweaty, pissed and gorgeous.  Even the hens
bitching me out stop their tirade long enough to admire the man.  Is
nobody immune to Mulder?

"Ooooh, do you see what I see?"  Mother #1 crows to Mother #2.
Jesus, girls, you have kids here, you know.

#2 is just as horny.  "Yeah, you don't see something that fine every
day.  Wish my hubby looked like that.  Mmmm - mm!"

Sneaking a peek over #1's shoulder, I notice that he's stopped a
passerby.  From his gestures I can tell he's describing me.  Oh shit,
the guy just pointed in this direction.

"He's coming this way!" #1 squeals.  "Stand aside, honey," she tells
#2, "*I* don't have a hubby!"

That's it.  Even if he weren't coming this way, I'd have to leave
before I puke.  Hoping beyond hope that he doesn't spot me, I
slowly creep in the opposite direction.

"Scully!"  Dammit, he saw me.  I make a break for it and can't help
but chuckle when I here that same woman croon, "Where ya going,
honey?"

I steal a glance behind me and see that he's whipped out his badge
and is waving it around like he's in the process of apprehending a
criminal.  Oh, that is sooo unfair!  Now he's really got the
advantage.  I didn't think to bring my badge with me; everybody
watching this little Keystone Cop Adventure is going to think that
I'm the big baddy now and he's the righteous law enforcement
officer out to save the world.  Now I'm really pissed.

While he's delayed for a few seconds with the "ladies", I have a
chance to talk to a group of teenagers that just might be able to
give me a hand in this....

**********

*What* is wrong with her?  She's obviously trying to ditch me
big-time and she's pulling out all the stops to do it.  Maybe she
thinks she can shut me out like she shuts out everything else that
challenges her emotionally, but I've got news for her.  I'm not
backing down from the chase; it's become suddenly imperative that
I find out why she's running from me.

Running?  Hell, more like flying.  You put her in a pair of sneakers
instead of high heels and that woman can move.  I'm in pretty good
shape, though.  I figure five more minutes of this and I'll catch up
with her, it's just the laws of nature at work here.  Man with longer
legs *always* overtakes woman trying to get away.  Me Tarzan,
you Jane, and all that.

But what I don't add to the equation is the crowd she's disappeared
into.  Gotta hand it to Scully - she may be smaller than me, but her
brain can outdistance mine any day.  No problem though.  My
badge should take care of any obstacles; hell, it took care of those
predatory moms back there, everything else should be a piece of
cake.

A parade of strollers cuts me off momentarily, and gentleman that I
am, I must stop.  Can't barrel over children, you know.  When it's
finally clear, I panic for a few seconds, thinking I've lost her.  Then,
like the waters parting, the crowd thins and I see her just beyond a
small group of teenagers.  Aha!  Nothing between us now but a few
yards of turf and six bored kids.

Just as I politely (well, as politely as I can, considering how truly
aggravated I am at the moment) shoulder my way through the kids,
I am bombarded with a chocolate milkshake and an insincere
apology from the doofus that did the deed.

"Sorry, dude," he drawls, obviously not sorry in the least.  "Guess I
wasn't watchin' where I was goin'."  God, I'd love to wipe that smirk
off of his face, but time does not permit.

"That's okay," I hurriedly reply, trying to wipe the brown goo off of
my t-shirt as best I can.  "No harm done."  I'm backing away when I
hear a shriek.  Jesus, what now?

"Watch it, asshole!"  One of his friends is cursing and gesturing
wildly at me, shouting that I crushed her foot under my shoe.  In
seconds I'm surrounded by six angry juveniles, one of whom has
dumped a bag of potato chips over my head.  Suddenly I'm
engulfed in a shower of junk food and soda.  Great, now I've really
had enough.

"FBI!" I scream and brandish my badge in a sweeping circle,
deflecting some of the barrage.  "You are interfering with official
Justice Department business!  I will arrest all of you if you don't
disperse NOW!"

Of course I can't see very well, but judging from the silence that
now ensues I'm guessing that they've hauled ass.  As soon as I
wipe some of the mess from my eyes, I can see that all of them are
gone.  With the exception of one brave soul who looks at me with
fear in her eyes.

"We're sorry sir, but she told us you were her crazy ex and you
were stalking her.  She just needed a little time to get away, that's
all."  She's wringing her hands and about to burst into tears at any
moment.  Suddenly I'm very tired and I want this to end, now.

"Where did she go?"  I know I haven't calmed down enough to
keep from scaring this kid, but I really don't care.  I also know I
really shouldn't be flashing my badge around like this, I could get
into serious trouble.  Better not to linger for too long.  "Which way?"

She points in the direction of the biggest swarm of people.  Damn,
I'll never find her in there.  I've got to regroup and think of an
alternative tactic.  Besides, I've had enough of screaming kids and
pimply teenagers.  Trying to scrape some of the goo off of me, I
turn and slowly make my way out of this madhouse.

Just in case she's watching (and I'd bet she is), I affect my most
pathetic demeanor and totally ignore the whispers and giggles
following me out.  Hey, they could even work to my advantage if I
play this right....

**********

<Yes!  He's giving up!>

That optimistic thought is quickly replaced by a calmer, more
rational one.

<Yeah, right.  Like Mulder would give up on anything that fast. >

>From my vantage point behind a balloon vendor, I see him walking
gingerly back to the entrance of the park.  He's covered with what
looks suspiciously like chocolate syrup and popcorn.  The park
patrons that are not avoiding him like the plague are snickering and
pointing at him.

Now I feel like shit.  Lower than low.

Now that the rush of fear has passed, I can think clearly once
again.  I know that running away was a cowardly thing to do; at the
time it seemed like the quickest and easiest solution to the
immediate problem.  But I didn't realize how much it could possibly
have hurt Mulder.  I mean, here he is, ready to give us what we've
both wanted forever, and I treat him like he's a leper.  Not to
mention the humiliation he suffered moments ago.

I will tell him the truth.  We will sit down, have a reasonable
discussion about this matter and settle it like adults.  Straightening
my spine, I emerge from the colorful camouflage I'm hiding behind
and begin marching in his direction.

He visibly flinches at a particularly crude remark thrown his way by
one of the more asinine fair-goers and picks up his pace until he's
running back the way he came.  Shit, if I don't hurry I'll never catch
up with him now!

He's out of sight before I can break out of the crowd.  I would shove
my way through, but there are small children everywhere.  In the
interest of safety, I must take it slower than I'd like.  Just as I sense
an opening, I accidently knock the bottle out of the hands of a
toddler who instantly starts crying.

"I'm so sorry!" I apologize profusely and bend to retrieve the bottle,
which is now hopelessly dirty.  The poor mother looks appropriately
frazzled and the baby's cries aren't helping.  Glancing nervously
around, I realize there's only one thing I can do.

"Let me get this cleaned up for you," I offer.  After all, it was *my*
fault.

"No, really, you don't.  It's just water anyway.  I can do it."  A tired
smile graces her features.  She's being really nice about it all.  So
naturally, I feel worse.

"I insist; it won't take but a minute.  There's a water fountain right
over there."  I take off for it before she can protest further.
Thankfully there is just a little dust around it's body and nothing on
the nipple itself.  I quickly rinse it inside and out and refill it.

She's standing where I left her and the baby seems to have cried
himself out.  But he reaches eagerly for the bottle when I hold it out
to him.

"Thanks."  She plants a small kiss on the top of his head.  "He's
really lost without it, you know."

I nod in sympathy as though I know all about child-rearing. <No use
thinking about the past now, Dana.  There's someone out there
right now that's lost without you.  Get going!>

"Yeah, I know."  I turn and run toward my future.

**********

Even though I'm a sticky mess, I climb into the driver's seat of the
car and start the engine.  Scanning the street, I maneuver the
vehicle out of the space in front of Scully's apartment and park it
around the corner.

She's nowhere to be seen but I run up the steps of her building as
fast as I can, anyway.  Scully thinks she's beaten me.  But she
hasn't yet met the thoroughly immovable force that I can be.

If it takes all night or even all weekend, she's going to come home.
But somehow I don't think it will take that long.  She saw me leave,
I know she did.  And right about now she's feeling really guilty.  I
figure I have about a fifteen minute wait in her apartment before
she returns.  She'll immediately head for the telephone to call and
apologize. *That's* when I'll nab her.

I don't really like to use her spare key; I could have used it the first
time I was here today.  I do respect her privacy, after all.  But
desperate times call for desperate measures.

The apartment is spotless, as always.  Which only brings to mind
how messy I really am.  Checking the street through the blinds, I
can't see her anywhere.  So I figure I've got a few minutes to spare.
Stripping off the ruined t-shirt, I dash to the bathroom to clean up.
Scully always keeps a change of clothing here for me; I've know
exactly where it is in her closet.  She's the most practical person I
know.

After splashing water on my face and arms, I towel off and check
for any stray food sticking to me.  The mirror tells me I look decent
enough, even with the sticky hair.  I tried rinsing out most of the
goop, but couldn't really get it all without washing it.  Not enough
time for that, so this will have to do.

Using her brush, I try to restore some order to my hair.  Yes, she
would kick my ass if she knew I was using her hairbrush, but I
figure this is the least she deserves for the shit she put me through
today.  She's lucky if I don't use her toothbrush to clean her toilet;
but, sweet guy that I am, I just can't do that.  I do, however, brush
my teeth with it.  Bet that would piss her off too if she knew about it.

Satisfied that I have cluttered up her bathroom enough in my quest
for cleanliness, I search the closet for the dress shirt and put it on.
Now, all I need are her handcuffs.......

**********
Part Five

Disclaimers, etc. in part one.

**********

When the stitch in my side forces me to slow down, I decide to stop
at the pharmacy and retrieve my car.  I figure if Mulder wanted to
wait for me, he would.  If not, then so be it.  The few extra minutes I
use to get my car wouldn't make a difference either way.

By the time I round the corner, at least thirty minutes have passed
since I saw him last.  My heart takes a nosedive when I notice his
car is gone.  Maybe I was foolish to hope that he wasn't angry or
hurt enough to leave.

I park in the spot that he vacated and take my time getting out of
the car.  No use rushing inside.  I'll call and leave a message on his
machine, if I can think of something to say that will make any
sense.

The steps to my building seem awfully steep and I sigh as I slowly
ascend. <Courage, Dana.  The words will be hard to say, but you
have to suck it up and say them.>

Yes, I will beg, plead, and humiliate myself.  I will come down from
that lofty perch I've been on and actually be human for once. I will
apologize profusely and hope that we can go on as before.

The apartment seems mighty lonely and quiet.  For as long as I
remember, it has been my sanctuary.  Now it just seems like a hole
that I don't want to be in anymore.  I want to live in the light.  With
the man that loves me.  Even if we can't be together in *that* way,
we can still walk side by side with each other towards the future.

Suddenly I feel the spring return to my step.  Time for action.

I peel away the sweatshirt, intending to shower first before I make
the telephone call to Mulder.  I really would rather not speak to his
machine, and speaking the words I want to say to him on his cel
phone may result in an unfortunate accident on his part.

Just as I'm about to unfasten the sports bra I'm wearing and
release myself from some of the torture associated with exercise, I
feel a hand on my left wrist and I hear an ominous *click*.

**********

Before she can react with any force (thank goodness), I have the
handcuff on her wrist and I'm spinning her around to flop onto the
bed.

"Mulder!  What -" I have the other handcuff around the headboard
spindle before she can even finish sputtering.

"Shut up, Scully," I growl.  "Just shut up."  I must be doing a pretty
good job of convincing her how angry I am because her mouth
instantly closes and she lowers her gaze. <Afraid to look at me,
huh?  Coward.>

Immediately I go on the offensive.

"What the hell was all that about?"  I speak with deadly calm.  She
knows I mean business, because now I have her attention.  As our
eyes meet, I can almost see her backbone stiffening.

"I couldn't let you do it, Mulder."  A thought that's been hovering in
the back of my mind since she bolted finally comes to the forefront.
<She knows.  Somehow, she knows.>

But I'm not letting her off that easily.  "Do what?"  Let's clear this
up, once and for all.

Scully glances away and begins fidgeting with the lace coverlet on
her bed.  Ah, a crack in the armor.  She clears her throat and
almost whispers, "I couldn't let you ruin your life, your career."

I kneel before her and gently turn her head to me, forcing her to
meet my eyes.  "Scully, what could I possibly do that would ruin my
life or my career?"

Unshed tears are transforming her eyes into glittering orbs of
sapphire.  Her breath hitches slightly when she answers.

"Love me."

That does it.  I get to my feet and start pacing, hand on hips.  I don't
want to hurt her any more than she's hurting right now, but a few
things need to be said.

Stopping at the bedroom door, I turn and face her head-on.

"So I guess I'm not a very good strategic planner, huh?"

She shakes her head and grins slightly, wiping a few errant
teardrops from her cheeks with her free hand.

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing - after all, I never was the type
Uncle Sam would want."

That remark earns a little laugh from Scully.  Good, she seems to
be relaxing just a bit.  So I go in for the kill.

"That point conceded.  Now - " Pausing for effect, I narrow my eyes
and let her have it.  "Just what gives you the right to decide what's
good for me and what's not?"

"Mulder -"

"NO!  Just listen to me for once, Scully!"  I resume the pacing and
her attention never wavers.  "I finally figure out that *you* are the
most important thing in my life - finally throw caution to the wind
and come here to give you my soul - and you run away from me?  I
love you, dammit - and I know you love me.  What in the world
were you thinking?"

She tries to interrupt but I'm on a roll.  "Mulder -"

"Did you even stop to think how much that would hurt me?  Did
you?  Did you -"

"MULDER!"  Now that stops me cold.  I'm sure my jaw is slack and
all I can do is stare.  Scully has never yelled at me like that before.

"Skinner spoke to me yesterday as I was leaving.  He told me it
was just a matter of time before you got the X-files back."

I blink twice and swallow before answering.  "Are you sure?"

The determined look she gives me assures me of that fact and she
replies, "Yes.  He said there are forces at work to reinstate us even
as we speak."  She pauses and gives me a watery smile.  "You've
gotten back what you most wanted, Mulder."

**********

Dumbstruck.  Mulder is dumbstruck.  I should savor this moment.
This doesn't happen very often.  However, I know this silence will
not last much longer so I continue while I have control of the
conversation.

"Mulder, listen to me, please, just for a moment."  Something must
register, because he nods and slumps back into my Queen Anne
chair across the room.

He steeples his hands across his mouth and murmurs, "Okay,
Scully, you've got the floor.  Let's have it."

Realizing that I'm still shackled to the bed I ask politely, "Could you
remove these please?"  I wave the hand that's bound.

Once again, he doesn't move his hands except to reply, "No way."
God, his intense scrutiny is unnerving.  Though barely open, his
eyes are fixed on me with a phosphorescent fire.

"And why not?" I indignantly sputter.

"You say what's on your mind then we'll discuss that option."
Okay, so he thinks I may run again, I can understand that.  Case
closed on the handcuff issue for the time being.

"Fine."  He knows that frustration has set in because I can't get up
off of the bed.  I wish I could pace like he was doing earlier.  If I'm
not mistaken, the tiniest of smirks is lurking behind those elegant
fingers.

"First of all, I'm sorry for nosing into your computer files.  There is
no excuse for that."

"Oh, so that's how you found out."  He looks genuinely surprised.
"Guess I won't be putting my Christmas list on there anymore."  He
nods graciously in acceptance of my apology.

"Second of all, I'm very sorry for taking off like that.  It was a very
juvenile thing to do."

"I agree," he says softly.  The evening shadows are starting to take
over and I'm having trouble getting a handle on his mood because I
can't see him really well.  "I never figured you for a coward, Scully."

"I'm not, I just - well, I just panicked."  I raise my eyes to meet his,
or so I'm hoping in this dimness.  "Needless to say, it was a stupid
move and I apologize for all the hassle you had to endure this
afternoon."

"Apology accepted.  Please continue."  He's so calm it's frightening.

Taking a deep breath, I plunge ahead.  "Once I realized what you
were planning, I knew I couldn't let you go through with it.  If we
took that *step*, crossed that line, so to speak - it would jeopardize
any chance of your getting back what you want so desperately -
your life's work."

I'm met with total silence. <What is he thinking?> I can't stand it, so
I go on.

"Mulder, all I want is for you to be happy.  And I know that you can't
be unless you have the X-files back.  I thought if I could put you off
long enough, we would be back in the basement before we did
something we'd both regret."  At least I know he would regret it; I
could never regret anything I do as far as he's concerned.

I can't bear to look at him anymore.  If he looks into my eyes, he
will see into my heart and know that I love him despite the words
I'm saying.  Dropping my head, I offer a final apology.

"All I can say is I'm truly sorry if I hurt you in any way.  You're my
best friend; hopefully we can get past this and go on with our lives.
With the X-files."

Finally he speaks, so softly I'm sure I've misunderstood.

"Scully, are you in love with me?"

**********

I do believe she missed the question.  My suspicion is confirmed
when she jerks her head up and asks, "What?"  Her brow is knitted
in confusion.

I raise my voice slightly so she can't pretend not to hear.  "Are you
in love with me?"

With an exasperated snort she replies, "Mulder, you are my best
friend.  Of course I love you."

That I already know.  "But are you *in love* with me?"

She lowers her eyes, breaking contact.  Now comes the hard part.
She's about to lie to me.  I know it, she knows it.

"No."

"Liar," I hiss.  She jerks her head to one side just a fraction, but still
doesn't look at me.  "You're afraid to even look at me because I can
tell when you're not telling the truth."

Slowly she picks her head up and replies, "You cannot.  I've lied to
you before and you never even knew it."  That chin rises with a
child-like move.

I'm no fool.  I know that she's trying to change the subject, but I
play along just a bit.  "Oh yeah?  When?"

"Well, um..."  She's trying like hell, I can see those wheels turning
in her mind, but to no avail.  "Just give me a minute, okay?"

I make a production out of looking at my watch.  "One minute,
Scully."

One minute passes in excruciating silence.  All the while I have her
pinned with my gaze, shifting ever more uncomfortably with each
second that goes by.  I actually let one more minute tick away
before I stand up, suddenly anxious that we proceed without delay.

"Time's up.  Give it your best shot."

I'm actually rather proud of Scully; she meets me head-on,
apparently as weary of this game as I am.  "Okay, Mulder, you win.
I can't think of a single instance where I've lied to you.  But that
only means that I can't think of one, not that there isn't one."  God,
but she's magnificent in her poised logic.

"I'll accede that point.  But I still want a *truthful* answer to my
original question.  Are you in love with me?"  She opens her mouth
to speak, slightly turning away, but I interrupt abruptly, "No, Scully.
Look at me when you answer, dammit.  If you can look me in the
eye and tell me you aren't in love with me, you win.  I'll leave and
we will never speak of this again."  Oh, Jesus, this had better work.

It seems like forever before she raises her eyes to mine.  But once
she does, I know her answer before she even says it.  The truth is
radiating off of her face in waves, making me catch my breath.

"I'm in love with you," she whispers, then smiles at me so brightly it
lights up the whole room.

**********

Okay, I've given in, finally said the words.  I can't really tell, it's so
dark in my bedroom now, but by the look on his face, I think I said
the right thing.  Two steps and he's crouched by my bedside.  He
slowly reaches up to turn on the lamp, then looks at me.

Adoration.  Plain and simple adoration is written all over his face.  I
could live happily on just that look for the rest of my life; perhaps
that is all we will ever have.  I bring a hand to touch his cheek and
he leans into my touch with closed eyes.  For just a moment I let
him, and all is right in our little world.

But circumstances force me to bring up some details that I think
he's overlooked.  "Mulder," I say quietly, pushing up his chin to
break this wonderful moment.

"What?"  He looks tired but at the same time I feel the energy within
him.

"We still have to talk about some things here."  Like the fact that we
really shouldn't act on these feelings, considering we are partners
in the FBI.  Partners who can never become lovers.

"Like what?"  He's kneeling now, nuzzling my knees with his nose.
*My knees!  God, I never knew that knees.......*

<Stop it Dana!  Get a hold of yourself!> I don't stop him, however, I
am enjoying this *way* too much.  I can still speak to him rationally
and enjoy a little tickling, right?

"You're in love with me and I'm in love with you, right?"  He nods
emphatically, which serves to spread my legs a bit wider. <What a
sneaky bastard!> I try to bring them together once again, but he's
taken hold of my calves, holding my legs still.  All the while
lavishing full attention on my right inner thigh.

"Mulder, stop!"  Much as it pains me, he does as I ask, although
when he looks up at me again, I notice he hasn't released his grip
on my legs.  He waits silently for me to speak again, so I do.

"We can't go any further, Mulder.  Much as I want this, I have to put
a stop to it."

A slight frown passes over his brow and he asks, "Who says we
can't?"

Is he really dumb or just acting that way?  "Our employer, for one.
You know as well as I that the bureau frowns upon intimate
relationships between partners.  We don't want to lose our jobs just
when we are so close to getting the X-files back, now do we?"

He rises to his feet once again and faces me with hands on hips.
"And where in the FBI rulebook is that particular tidbit found, huh
Scully?"

He's got me there.  Of course, there is no written rule against such
a thing, but he knows as well as I that such a relationship would be
the first excuse they would pounce upon if we screwed up in any
way.

"Mulder, I just don't want to give anybody more ammunition to use
against us, that's all.  Surely you can see that?"

He sits back into the chair but is anything but relaxed in it.  "What I
see is that they have used us against each other so many times
already.  What I also see is that at this point I really don't give a shit
about what anybody thinks or says.  They already think we've been
sleeping together for years, don't you know that by now?"

Yes, I do know what the Bureau gossips have been whispering
about us.  I also do not care what other people think of us,
personally that is.  Professionally speaking.....well, that is another
matter entirely.

Brushing my brow lightly with my fingers, I continue, "Yes, Mulder, I
know all of that."  God, I hope I can explain this without causing him
any more grief.  "Please try to understand that I'm thinking of what
this may do to your work, your *life's* work, Mulder."

At last some of this seems to be sinking in.  He sits for a moment in
quiet contemplation, then sighs , "Okay, Scully.  Are you willing to
listen to me for just a minute?"

Lifting my left hand from the pillow where it's been resting for the
past fifteen minutes, I reply, "I can't very well go anywhere, now
can I?"

**********

Jesus, I forgot about the handcuffs.  I really should remove them,
but not right now.  They are not really hurting her in any way, just
humiliating her a bit.  After all I've endured for her sake today, a few
more moments of captivity should just about even the score.

Deciding to ignore her sarcasm, I begin.

"My *life's* work, as you call it, has long since evolved into
something totally different from what it originally was.  Sure, I'm still
digging, hoping to find Samantha and bring the conspiracy to an
end.  Those goals have not changed.  What has changed,
however, are my feelings for you."

I pause, knowing that my next words could make or break this
relationship.  She's listening to my explanation with rapt attention,
although you wouldn't know it by the stiffness of her back and
shoulders and the cool expression on her face.

"When I first met you, I thought you were there to *disrupt* my
work, to say the very least.  You were smart, opinionated,
stubborn, and beautiful.  You still are."

Her eyes soften just a bit.  "Go on," she urges quietly.

"I was determined not to let you affect me in any way.  My work
was all that mattered to me; I certainly was not going to let
anybody, much less this little slip of a girl distract me."  She bristles
at that.

"What do you mean - slip of a girl?"  Before she gets angrier, I cut
her off by raising my hands.

"Hold on, I'm not finished."

She falls into silence once again and moves to cross her arms but
realizes she can't.  With a small snort of frustration, she replies,
"So?"

"So, before too long I began to respect you.  I may not have liked
you at times, but I respected you.  I still do.  As time passed, I
discovered that I trusted you.  Then I fell in love with you."  I never
take my eyes from hers, not once.  She must know how difficult it is
to admit my feelings.  "The first time I admitted this to myself, I
thought - okay, so I'm in love with Scully.  I can live with this.  Even
if she never reciprocates, at least she's still my best friend."

To say that Scully is melting before my eyes would be an
understatement.  With every word I can tell that she's weakening.
"When?" she whispers.

Slightly confused, I question her in return.  "When what?"

"When did you know that you loved me?"  I guess she wants to
hear that I was lost without her during her abduction, and I suppose
I really was.  But that wasn't when I came to the conclusion that I
loved her.  It's almost embarrassing to admit to the exact moment,
and I tell her so.

"Scully, I can't.  You'll think I'm an idiot."  Now I'm blushing, so I
hang my head, hoping she doesn't notice.

"Why not, Mulder?  Too sappy to say?"  God, she is smiling now.
Good sign.  Guess I'll have to spill my guts.

"On the contrary, Scully.  Too ridiculous to be believable."  When
she gives me that no-nonsense, I want answers now look, I
continue.

"Okay, remember the one and only bureau safety meeting we ever
attended?"

"Yeah, about three years ago?  It was right after we returned from
that case in Comity, if I recall.  But what does that have to do with
anything?"

"Hold on, I'm getting there."   Knowing the dangers of bringing up
*that* case again, I deftly veer the conversation in the direction I
want. There are any number of events in our history together that
Scully can resurrect in order to sidetrack me.  She knows it, and I
know it.

"It was one of the most boring meetings I've ever attended," I
begin.  "But also one of the most enlightening in my life."

"How so?"

"Well, in the midst of an auditorium full of other bored employees, I
let my mind wander and I found myself fidgeting and I could tell you
were trying your best to pay attention."  So what's new, her face
tells me.  "I knew you were pissed at me, especially when I started
yawning loudly and groaning when somebody would raise a hand
to ask yet another stupid question.  I was just about to walk out,
which would have really drawn unwanted looks, when you nudged
me and pointed to your notebook.  I thought you had been taking
notes all this time and was surprised to find you had been doodling.
Imagine that, Dana Scully *doodling* at a meeting!"

Laughing, she nods.  "Yes, I usually try to at least find some use for
any meeting.  But that one was a bit too uninteresting, even for
me."

Now I'm on a roll.  "Then you whispered - Wanna play Hangman?  I
was floored.  You actually *aided and abetted* my disruptive
behavior.  Sure, I knew all you wanted to do was keep me busy
and out of trouble, but it was when I looked at your face while we
were playing that I knew.  You were having fun, I was having fun.
There was a definite spark of mischief in your eyes that I rarely
ever see.  Didn't you notice how much I lost to you that day?"

A single tear escapes but she quickly wipes it away.  "Yeah, you
weren't a very challenging opponent," she says with a shaky
breath.

"Of course I wasn't.  I not only lost most of the games we played
that day - I lost to you heart and soul, Scully.  That afternoon I
realized you *owned* me - and I never wanted to leave you again."
Jesus, that sounded so cornball, it hurt.  I've said enough; if that
doesn't do it, nothing will.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because - oh hell, I don't know.  There never seemed to be the
right moment, you know?  I was happy with our relationship as it
was; I saw no reason to change anything.  Even when you were
sick, I didn't want to burden you with my feelings.  It seemed
inappropriate at the time.  What can I say? - I'm an idiot."

"Why tell me now?"

"Seeing you in yet another hospital bed in another life-threatening
situation made me come to a decision.  I knew I had to tell you -
and the consequences be damned."  Well, there's only one thing
left to say.  "So it's up to you, Scully.  We both know how we feel -
the question is - do we act on it?"

In the span of the next few seconds, a myriad of emotions crosses
her features.  Joy, fear, sorrow and even passion.  But most of all I
can feel her uncertainty.  She wants this as badly as I do.  Perhaps
it's time for the next step.

**********
Part Six

Disclaimers, etc. in part one.

**********

God, he's leaving the decision to me.  I just *knew* he would do
something like that.  He sits there, not moving a muscle.  But his
eyes are full of hope, intense with longing and desire.  How can I
refuse him this?  Even so, I make one last attempt at negotiation.
Ever the professional, that's me.

"Mulder, I think we should discuss this more before we do
something we can't take back."

Ah, resignation at last.  At least that's what I think I'm seeing now.

"Okay, Scully.  Discussion it is."  He leans forward in the chair as if
to rise, but then he reaches for his shoes.  His shoes?!?!

"Mulder, what are you doing?"

He takes both shoes and socks off, then answers, "I'm just making
myself more comfortable, Scully.  You *did* make me chase you all
over this neighborhood today, you know."  Sighing in contentment,
he digs his feet into the bedroom carpet with a feline stretch of his
legs.

My temperature just went up a fraction of a degree, I think.  Funny,
but I never have seen Mulder's bare feet, not in recent memory.
They are long and slender, perfect actually.  Startled, I realize that
heat is rushing into my neck and face.  I can't seem to take my
eyes off of his feet.  Sliding and rubbing across the floor oh so
slowly, almost hypnotically.  Erotically.

Whoa!  Where did that come from?  Trying to regain some sense of
control, I make the request once again.

"Could you please remove the handcuffs?"  They've almost
become a part of me now, I'm so used to them.

Standing up, he begins to unbutton the shirt he must have changed
into when he beat me home.  "Sure, Scully.  Let me just get this
damn thing off.  It's gotten a little warm in here, don't you think?"

Boy, has it.  One by one, inch by inch, the buttons pop free,
revealing an expanse of tanned skin.  I follow the movements of his
hands with rapt attention, my mouth dropping open just like the
shirt.  Feeling like a fool, certain that I'm drooling, I snap it shut,
then open it to protest when my brain kicks in again.

"Mulder-"

The sight of those muscles expanding and contracting when he
finally removes it shuts me up, but quick.  I swear, it's like he's
moving in slow motion.  First, he grabs the two edges and
painstakingly pulls them apart, arching his back slightly and
groaning with pleasure at the audible *pop* of his spine.  Then he
shrugs it off and carelessly tosses it onto the floor at my feet.
Closing my eyes and inhaling deeply, the Mulderscent assaults my
senses as it breezes by.

For a few seconds, I just let warm thoughts wander through my
mind.  Bodies entwined, lips touching, hands joined....

Reality intrudes when it dawns that he's not saying anything.  I
open my eyes to find him just standing there, hands on hips, with a
smart-ass grin on his face.  "Scully?  You okay?"

Clearing my throat, I answer, "Yes, I'm okay.  Now back to the
matter at hand...." I wave my bound arm - hello?

"Just a second, Scully," he interrupts, raising a finger to stop me,
then he heads to the bathroom. "Nature calls, sorry."

Exasperated, I nod and he leaves for more pressing business.
Well, at least I have the opportunity to compose myself.  If I didn't
know better, I'd have to say that Mulder is performing a striptease
for me.  But he wouldn't be so bold, would he?

The sound of running water from the bathroom signals that he's
about to return.  Okay, I am now in control of this situation.

Like hell I am.

Sauntering back to the chair, he remarks, "You were saying,
Scully?"

Turning to face me, he flops casually into the chair once again.  Oh
God.  The first two buttons on the fly of his jeans are undone,
revealing the lighter skin of his abdomen and the faint line of gray
fabric sport jockeys.  Licking my lips, I follow the path of hair to his
chest and finally glance at his face.

Gone is the smirk from moments ago.  His eyes have transformed
into gray-green orbs of passion mixed with challenge. <Give me
your best shot> they're proclaiming.  "Had a big breakfast," he
explains, patting his tummy.

I have got to do something about this, NOW.

"Mulder?"

"Hmmm?"

"Please take the handcuffs off," I plead, in my sexiest voice.
Maybe I can cajole him into believing I'll play along.

"Oh, Scully, I'm sorry, I completely forgot."  Like hell he did.  "Let
me just find the key."  Rising from the chair, he makes a big
production out of searching his pockets for the key, which only
serves to make the jeans ride impossibly lower on his hips.  Damn
him, he's enjoying this way too much!

"Found  em!"  It takes me a while to move my gaze from his hips to
his raised hand.  He's dangling them in front of me like the prize
from a Cracker-Jack box.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" <Please, God, let me make it
through this.>

"Sure you won't run off Scully?" he asks with a small frown.

"Of course I won't, Mulder, " I lie.  Well, not really a lie.  I won't run
off just yet.  Maybe to the living room, but certainly not out the front
door.

I know he can catch me in a lie, but this time it appears I've pulled it
off.  "Okay," he says and moves to the bedside.  Just as I think I'm
home free, I hear a muffled, "Damn."

"What?!"  That sounded ominous.

"Dropped the key."  Mulder crouches at my feet, reaching into the
space between my nightstand and bed.  He places his left hand on
my hip and stretches even further, groping under the bed.

With Mulder draped across my thighs, it does occur to me that he
could probably reach them by simply moving the nightstand out of
the way.  That would be the logical thing to do, and I open my
mouth to say so when I notice something unusual.

There, in the perfect shell of his ear, is a smattering of chocolate
syrup.

He must have missed it in his cleanup.

Chocolate-covered Mulder.

I debate this for a moment.  Just a second.

Before I lower my head and lap it up with my tongue.

**********

I freeze instantly.  If I'm not mistaken, Scully is tracing the outline of
my ear with her tongue, taking small nibbles along the edge as she
goes.

<Yes!!!!>  The hand faking the grope under the bed closes easily
around the key and makes a fist of triumph.

Strategy is everything, you see.  My impromptu Chippendales (well,
sort of) performance has just paid off.  I bask in the glow of victory
for about ten seconds, feeling impossibly exhilarated as well as
incredibly turned on.  Jesus, if her tongue is that talented I'm in for
a treat.

"Uh....umm....Scully?" I manage to breathe.

"Yes?"  she whispers huskily, not even pausing in her endeavor.

Shit, these jeans are becoming more uncomfortable with each dip
and swirl of her tongue.  I swallow hard.  "What are you doing?"

"You missed a spot," she murmurs.  "You know how I hate to leave
any job unfinished."

Her free hand is now caressing the fine hair at the nape of my
neck.  With my nose buried between her lap and the pillows, I
unmistakably smell the scent of her arousal.

Really not wanting to disturb this precious moment, but desperately
wanting to continue further, I slowly sit up and clear my throat.
Before I even look at her, I quickly unlock the cuffs, freeing her at
last.

Suddenly tired of this teasing, fun though it may be, I rise to my feet
and walk away, putting a little distance between us.  I can't do this
to her.  Participation, not seduction, is my ultimate goal.  I love this
woman with all my heart.  But I wouldn't want her to look back at
this with any feelings of entrapment.  So I offer her an out, as
difficult as it is to say the words.

"Scully, we don't have to do this.  I don't want to force you into a
relationship you're not ready for.  Please forgive me," I sigh and
bow my head. <It's for the best.  It's for the best.  It's for the best.>
Yeah, I keep repeating it to myself, eyes tightly shut.  Maybe if I
block everything else out it will begin to make sense.

I hear shuffling behind me and suddenly Scully is there, wrapping
her arms around my waist from behind and nuzzling my back.

"Mulder?"

Holding my breath, I answer, "Yes?"

"I'm going to the bathroom.  Then I'm taking a shower and
shampooing my hair.  Then I'll brush my teeth.  Then I will return to
my bedroom.  And so help me God, if you're not in that bed naked
and ready when I come in, I will never speak to you again."

Giddy with relief, I stutter, "Y-yes ma'am.  At your service, ma'am."
I'm still too nervous to turn around.  So she maneuvers me into a
position facing her.  Opening my eyes at last, I find her sporting a
brilliant smile.

"I love you, Mulder."

My breath hitches and I smile tremulously, unable to believe this is
finally happening.

"God, I love you Scully.  So much it hurts."

Holding my face in her tiny hands, she reaches up on tiptoe to plant
a kiss on the tip of my nose.  "I know, Mulder, I feel exactly the
same."

Reaching down to my backside, she gives it a gentle squeeze and
a frisky pat before sashaying to the bathroom.

"Remember what I said, Mulder.  Naked and in bed, mister," she
throws at me over her shoulder and slams the door shut.

She won't have to tell me a third time.

**********

I collapse against the bathroom door, my heart pounding in my
ears.  <I can't believe I just did that!> With trembling hands, I reach
into the cabinet for fresh towels and glimpse myself in the vanity
mirror.

Even sweaty and disheveled, I must say I've never looked better.
My cheeks are rosy and my eyes clear and luminous.  And it's all
because of Mulder.

Fox Mulder.  FBI wunderkind.  Brilliant psychologist.  Generously
supportive friend. Absurdly handsome man.  And he's mine.  I
giggle to myself when an image of me rubbing my hands together
like a cartoon villain pops into my mind. <Mine, all mine!   Ha ha
ha!!!>

<So he's arrogant at times>, I muse as I strip and climb into the
shower. <And self-deprecating, troubled, and overly-sensitive at
other times.>

Soaping and shampooing with swift efficiency, I rinse off at last,
continuing to catalog his admirable traits along the way.

<Athletic, sexy as hell, lusted after by half of the female employees
of the bureau and envied by half of the male employees.> Not that
he notices any of this.  He is so insecure about his attractiveness.
That's something I'll have to work on.  Although not too diligently,
however.  Wouldn't want him to develop an over-inflated ego.

I dry off quickly, then towel dry my hair and don the terry cloth robe
that hangs ever ready in my bathroom.  I'm not going to waste time
by blow-drying it.  With a brush of my fingers, it's fluffed and falling
in pleasing waves around my face.  Just one more task and I'll be
ready.

Where is my toothbrush?  It's not in the holder; for that matter,
neither is the toothpaste.  After searching the counter top, I spy
them both under the towel that Mulder used earlier this afternoon.  I
can't believe he used my toothbrush.

For a brief moment I am repulsed.  I really *do not* like other
people using my toothbrush.  It's one of those things that is really
too intimate for someone else to share, besides the fact that it's
downright unhealthy.

Then I shrug it off, rinsing the toothbrush with hot water before
using it myself. <I guess this means I'll have to buy one for him to
use here.>

Whoa.  That's like, you know, commitment.  I've scared myself with
my toothbrush musings.

Before the way-too-analytical part of my brain takes over, I shrug
all of this fear off, too.  It's high time I had some fun in my life; it's
time Mulder had some, too.

Speaking of time, it's also time to get this show on the road.  I
decide to open the bathroom door as quietly as I can, just to sneak
a peek.  Oh, what a sight!

Mulder is lounging on his side on the far side of the bed, facing the
window and away from me.  His head is pillowed on his right arm,
and from his even breathing, I think he's asleep.

Walking softly to the window, I gently pull the drapes closed,
blocking out the noise and night-time street lamps and sit on the
floor next to him.  I admire the lines of his body, barely covered with
just the sheet from the hips down.  Poor baby, I must have really
tired him out today.  He emits a small snore with every breath,
more like very heavy breathing, actually.  And his face!  Perfect in
every way, from the sweep of his brow to the rather longish
eyelashes resting against lightly freckled cheeks to the square,
obstinate jaw.

Just as I'm about to touch my lips to that mole that he hates but I
consider a beauty mark, he stirs but does not awaken, falling onto
his back.  His left arm is outstretched above his head and his right
is laying palm up, inches from my face, the fingers relaxed but
flexing slightly.

As I rhapsodized earlier to myself about his feet, so I do now with
his hand.  Average hand, really.  Not too big, not too small, but just
right.  The fingers are long and slender also, the nails clean and
filed squarely to a suitable length.  And the palm - pink with small
callouses at the base of each finger.  Perfection it is.  I think I'll start
right here.

Lowering my head, I breathe deeply of the smell of his skin before I
plant an open-mouthed kiss deeply into his palm.

**********

Something is tickling my hand.  Actually it's quite a pleasant way to
wake up, giving the term  warm and wet' a different meaning from
the one you usually associate sleeping with.  Sighing, I bring my
left arm down and rest my hand on my stomach, absently stroking
the skin there, all the while reluctant to open my eyes.  Then I
remember where exactly I am.

<Scully!>

Oh, shit, she's gonna be pissed that I fell asleep!  Popping my eyes
open, I'm about to bolt from the bed to jar myself completely awake
when a flash of red catches my eye.

It's Scully, kneeling on the floor by my side, with her head bent over
my hand.  With an inaudible sigh, I drop my head back and enjoy
the treatment she's lavishing on my palm.  Kissing and licking with
silent enthusiasm, she's obviously enjoying herself.  I'm savoring
this moment, too, unsure if I should alert her to the fact that I am
now awake.

However, all this becomes moot the moment she covers my index
finger with her mouth and starts sucking.  My head snaps to
attention, as well as another previously limp part of my anatomy,
and I practically moan with pleasure.

"Sculleeee...."

**********
Part Seven

Disclaimers, etc. in part one.

**********

>From the delicious moan I just heard, Mulder is most definitely
awake.  His eyes are still closed, however, but on his face is a look
of sheer bliss.  I caress his palm one final time with a tiny kiss, then
pull myself up to my knees and lay my head on his stomach, facing
him.  His right hand moves away temporarily, only to return to rest
lightly upon my hair, stroking softly.  I feel a shift of his legs; slowly
the left one lifts to effectively cradle me in his lap.  I also feel the
insistent press of something rather impressive between us,
something that most assuredly warrants further investigation.

"Mul-derrr," I purr, hoping I don't sound like a total bimbo.

He releases a gentle sigh but apparently is too content to open
those gorgeous eyes of his and look at me.  "Scully?"

"Yes?"  I can't resist a swipe of my tongue in his navel, which
results in a shiver and a shaky chuckle from Mulder.

"Are we gonna have that discussion now?"

"What discussion?"  Like we will be coherent enough to converse
very shortly.

"You know, the one where we try to talk ourselves out of doing this
but don't succeed......", he stops with a gasp, mainly because my
hand has made the foray into here-to-fore unknown territory under
the sheet.

"If you want to waste time Mulder, sure.  But don't expect to hear
much from me, I'll be way too busy," I declare, my mouth beginning
the ascent to his as we speak.

Between gulps and hitches of breath, he makes one last request, I
hope.  "Scully?"

"Yesss," I reply, hoping this will be the end of the question and
answer time; let's move on to show and tell.

"Could you wake me up like this from now on?"

I leave a trail of kisses up his chest to his neck, where I nuzzle just
a bit before replying, "Sure.  But you have to supply your own
toothbrush from now on.  And razor.  And -"

With a speed that renders me breathless, he sits up and pulls me
into his arms for what dawns on me is our first real kiss.  It's not
gentle; more like a plundering of souls on both sides.  I ravage his
mouth, he ravishes mine.  After aggressively dueling for a few
moments, we both acquiesce simultaneously, soothing each other
with soft kisses between gulps of air.

"Wow," I whisper, cradling him in my arms, as he is laying his head
on my shoulder.

Suddenly he pulls away, taking my face into his flawless hands so I
am forced to look at him.  The love I see in his eyes burns right
through me, taking my breath away.

"Does that mean what I think it means?", he asks, devouring me
with his gaze.

I nod, totally willing to let him into my life this way.  It's rather
strange, but I never in my wildest dreams pictured myself in this
position.  Especially not with Mulder.

I've never wanted to give myself completely to another person; in
all of the relationships I've been in over the years (well, two to be
exact) there was always a part of me that would hold back.  Yes,
they were healthy, giving, sexual relationships.  But not of the type
where we even considered co-habitating.

For me to even remotely entertain the idea of Mulder moving some
of his things into my place - well, let's just say that's a tremendous
leap forward.  He knows this; he knows that I've accepted him in
this way.  And we haven't even been intimate yet - that's amazing.
A hurdle we're about to cross, God willing.

To that goal, I release my hold on him and attempt to stand.  He
reluctantly yields, and rises as well, fully naked and magnificent in
his arousal.  Hoo-boy.  My brow arches as I leisurely peruse the
feast I'm about to consume.

Sheepishly grinning, he spreads his arms and turns slowly,
allowing me to look my fill.  "You said to be naked and ready.  Well,
Scully, this is as naked and ready as I'm ever gonna get."

I step forward and wrap my left arm around him, squeezing one
cheek playfully while enclosing his erection in my right hand, giving
it equal attention.  He hisses, "No fair, Scully.  You went straight for
my obvious weakness."

"I know.  All's fair in love and war, Mulder," I quote.  "You followed
your battle plan; all I'm doing is following mine."  With my face
buried in his chest, it's easy to brush his nipple with my lips,
increasing my advantage.

Oh, Lord, I could simply remain this way forever, I think.  Skin to
skin with Mulder, merging slowly until we can't tell where he ends
and I begin.  Many minutes pass; it's hard to keep track of time
when you are doing something so enjoyable.

Just when I think I have him totally under control, he pushes me
away slightly and grabs my hands, bringing them up to kiss each in
turn.  His eyes are twinkling with barely contained mischief.

"Oh yeah?  Well, I do believe the next move is mine, don't you
think?"

**********

Before she can fully react (she's rather enjoying herself at the
moment), I step back just far enough to loosen the tie on her robe.
It's in a heap at her feet in two seconds flat.

Scully is a beautiful woman, inside and out.  Although tiny, she
possesses a voluptuousness that really doesn't surprise me.  I
always guessed those suits were covering a fantastic body; I just
never really knew *how* fantastic.

Full breasts, tiny waist, slightly wide hips with a flat tummy.  Yes,
her hips are wider than I'd bet she likes, but they fit.  She may not
be perfect by Madison Avenue standards, but she's more than
perfect to me.  She's everything I ever wanted.

Just like I did moments ago, she turns for my inspection, stopping
with her back to me.  Tossing her head over her shoulder she asks,
"See anything you like?"

"Oh yeah," I reply, dropping to my knees and grabbing that
gorgeous ass in both hands, holding her still to admire the tattoo I
had only seen before in photographs.

She knows I'm looking at it, which makes her squirm in my hands.
But I hold tight, unwilling to let her escape my perusal.

"I really like it, you know," I whisper reverently, healing that wound
with just a few words.  "And I never want you doubting my
admiration or respect ever again, do you understand?"

Scully is silent, unmoving.

Oh, shit.  I think I just made a big mistake.

Deflated, I move to sit back on my heels, letting my hands fall away
from her.  Before my fingertips lose contact with her skin, however,
she seizes my hands and wraps my arms around her waist.  I let
my face lower, my forehead pressed against her spine, sorry I ever
brought the subject up.

At last she speaks, so earnest and steadfast in her response.

"I will try, Mulder.  I can't say that I will never doubt you again, but I
will always respect your opinions.  I hope that you can do the same
for me."

Closing my eyes in a silent prayer of thanks, I answer quickly, "Of
course, Scully.  Always."

Eager to move beyond this awkwardness, I resume my exploration
of her backside.

She inhales sharply when I press my mouth to that silken skin and
suckle.  Through the roaring in my ears, I hear her moaning in
pleasure.  Suddenly I want more, I want all of her open to me.

I twist her smoothly to face me and she gasps when I spread her
legs, intent upon learning all of her secrets.

"Mulder?"  She makes me pause by laying her small hands on my
shoulders.  There is indecision written all over her face.  I do
believe she's never let anyone do this for her; but I want to so badly
and I almost beg for the opportunity.

"Scully, please, I *want* to give you this," I murmur, knowing how
hard it is for her to be this vulnerable.

With a sigh and a smile, she brings her hand to the back of my
head and pushes me forward, oh so slowly.  At the moment she
opens her legs to me, I hear, "Oh, Mulder."  And I am lost in all that
is Dana Scully.

The essence of her fills my senses; I've never loved her more than
at this moment.

I trace her folds with my lips and tongue; she clenches slightly at
first, then relaxes more and more with my gentle ministrations.  For
a few minutes I just tease and play with her, letting her get used to
this type of love play.  From the sounds I'm hearing from her, I
must be doing it right.

I find a spot just above her pubic bone with my thumb and she
jumps.  "OH!"  That's it.  Releasing the pressure slightly but not
totally, I insert one, then two fingers deep inside of her and
squeeze gently, all the while burying my face in her springy curls.

Languidly mimicking what will soon be our physical joining, I move
my fingers in and out of her, watching her face transform with each
wave of pleasure that washes over her.  She is a joy to behold; so
open, smiling up to the heavens.

She comes almost immediately when I increase the urgency of my
movements, sliding my fingers in and slightly up to capture her
clitoris.  Her back arches;  her hands grab my head in a vise so
tight that I couldn't look away even if I wanted to.

"God, Mulder!" she cries as I feel her walls close around my fingers
with rapid force.  I'm so wrapped up in her orgasm, I almost come
myself, but manage to stay in control.

Laughter bubbles out of her, making me pause long enough to
glance up at her.  Her eyes are shut tight and suddenly her cheeks
are wet with tears.  This alarms me; I don't know if she's hysterical
or in pain.  Suddenly her knees give way, and I retain my grip on
her, just barely.

"Scully, you okay?"  I ask before she bonelessly slips into my lap,
enfolding me in her embrace and laying her head on my shoulder.
She is still shaking; whether from laughter or tears I can't tell.

With a trembling hand, I gently force her to look at me.  Though
flushed and moist with a combination of sweat and tears, her face
is jubilant with happiness.  "Mulder -" she begins, then stammers, "I
- I've never felt....I mean.....that's never -"

"Shhh, I know, Scully, I know," I reassure her quietly, placing her
head back in its place and contentedly holding her until she calms
down.

"You know, Scully, you scared me there for a minute.  I don't think
I've ever made a woman laugh during sex before.  I didn't know
what to make of it," I tell her truthfully.

Scully is almost purring into my neck, she's so pleased.  "Well,
Mulder, to be honest, that was the first time I ever did that, laughing
that way.  You made me so happy that I think it just burst from me
on its own."  She sits up and looks me squarely in the eye.  "That
was the single most wonderful experience of my life."

God, I love this woman.  Other pressing matters aside, I believe I
could perform this act of love for her every day for the rest of my
life just to see her face like this.  Glowing, radiant, whatever it's
called.  The words escape me at this moment, so I express my joy
with a lingering kiss, which she returns enthusiastically.

Breaking it off abruptly, she says, "Mulder?", while I kiss my way
down her neck and beyond.

"Hmmm?"  Don't stop me now, Scully.  I'm getting into the groove.

"Don't you think it's time we moved this to the bed?"  If I'm not
mistaken, she's ready for Round Two.

"Oh, I don't know," I tease, "I'm comfortable right here."

"Well," she answers, "I have feeling if we stay here I will end up
with a really *uncomfortable* rug burn on my ass."

"Okay, okay," I chuckle.  "You can be so demanding at times, you
know."  We untangle and move this production to the bed, where I
wind up exactly where she puts me, resting between her legs with
an unencumbered view of those breasts.  I immediately set to work
satisfying my curiosity about their feel and taste.

She playfully runs her fingers through my hair and teases me in
return.  "I'm thinking of your knees, too.  We wouldn't want to wear
them out too quickly, you know.  You're not as young as you once
were, Mulder."

This side of Scully entrances me.

"I'll show you old," I growl, and enter her with one long, smooth
stroke.

**********

I gasp and he stills, concern for me etched upon his face.

"Scully -"

"No, no, I'm okay," I assure him.  "It's just been a while, you know."
I wrap my arms around him, keeping him firmly in place.  When he
remains immobile, chest heaving, I pinch his ass.  "Get moving,
mister.  I won't break."

"Yes ma'am," he answers, slowly pulling out then in again.  His
eyes never waver from mine.

"Scully?"  Thrusting slowly, he obviously is still very much in control
at the moment.

"Yes?"  My control, however, is faltering as the pleasure curls low
within me once again.  I tighten my vaginal walls; wouldn't want to
leave him behind this time.

"Do you - oh, you wicked woman-," he rasps, "do you have any
idea how much I love you?"  Apparently my ploy is working; he
speeds up considerably.

"If today was an indication, I'd say a helluva lot."  Mulder reaches
between us to stroke *that* spot again and suddenly the room
starts to spin.  "Almost as much as I love you, I imagine."  Jesus,
but he's good at this....

"Oh no, Scully, not almost.  More.  More than you'll ever know."

My throat burns with unshed tears but I will not allow myself to cry
again.  Mulder is so sensitive to tears; I refuse to let him console
me again for something he thinks is his fault.  Besides, I'm too busy
having fun watching him concentrate on our lovemaking.

Instead of answering him, with an evil grin I crook an ankle around
his thigh and in one swift move I have him on his back without
separating his body from mine.

"Whoa, Scully!", he cries with mock indignation.  "I was just getting
the hang of it."

"Mulder," I whisper, "you never lost it, if I may say so."  He likes
that; he's smiling broadly up at me.  "I want to do the work for a
little while, okay?"

"Sure, Scully.  Never let it be said I was uncooperative."

"Mulder, *uncooperative* is your middle name."

"Actually, no, it's William....."

"Shut up, Mulder."

**********

So I do.  Scully is making it difficult to breathe, much less talk.
Moving over me with perfect grace, she's so beautiful I don't know
how much longer I can last.  I feel that familiar burn begin,
coiling in my belly with incredible speed.

"Scully, I want you to come with me -" I begin, but she shushes me
with a devastating kiss.  Then she leans low and commands in a
shaky voice,

"Scoot up just a bit, Mulder."

With what little control I have left, I obey, grabbing the headboard
with both hands and pulling, bringing us both to a sitting position
against the pillows.  I bend my legs to support her back; with her
recent injury, I believe she's tiring rapidly, though she won't admit
it.  Ever the trooper, that's my Scully.

Spanning her waist with my hands, I slowly drop my left hand to the
small of her back, urging her on while thrusting up into her with my
hips.  This is appropriate, I think; we are facing each other, neither
of us is the dominant one for our first foray into intimacy.  She knew
this when she made me move.  I love a woman that plans ahead.

"Let it go, let it go....", she whimpers, tightening her grip on my
shoulders as she accelerates to the inevitable finish.

"No," I hiss, forcing her to hold eye contact with me.  "You....have
to.....come with me."

My right hand snakes down, its fingers capturing her clitoris, and
she explodes around me, her head thrown back with abandon.
Although jerking in an almost uncontrollable fashion, she still
manages to move upon me until I swell precipitously inside of her.

"Scully!", I cry, unable to contain myself any longer.  With a
series of rapid bursts, I empty into her warmth just as she's
collapsing onto my chest.

"That's it," she whispers into my neck, "Make *me* whole."

Trembling with after shocks, I lay my head back and allow the tears
to fall.  Now I know how she felt moments ago.  And why she cried.
Before I can reach up to dry my eyes, she looks at me, brings her
hands up, and smooths the tears away.

"Will it always be this way?", she asks with a wobbly smile,
brushing my cheeks with her thumbs.

I reach for her hands and plant a reverent kiss in each palm.  "God,
I hope so, Scully.  Although -" , I hesitate, dropping my head just a
bit.

"What?", she panics, certain that she did something wrong.

"I don't see how it could possibly get any better."

Score one for me.  I can be romantic when I want to be.  Scully
chuckles then moves up slightly, separating our bodies with a
wince she tries unsuccessfully to hide.

"You okay?", I question her as she settles on my lap, her legs
between mine.

Tweaking one of the sparse hairs on my chest, she replies, "Of
course, Mulder.  Just a little sore.  It will pass."

"Good, because I plan on resuming this activity sometime this
weekend but only if you're up to it.  In between other pursuits, that
is."

"Oh, I will be, Mulder, I will be."  She raises her head to ask, "But
what are we going to do with the downtime?  I don't feel like
working, do you?"

"Well, we do have symphony tickets for tomorrow afternoon," I
point out.

"Mulder, I know how much you hate classical music.  We don't
have to go if you don't want to."

Did I mention how much I adore this woman?

With a shit-eating grin, I reply, "Well, if you bring along pencil and
paper, I'll be perfectly happy."

**********

End.


Longing
            by Matthew Arnold

            Come to me in my dreams, and then
            By day I shall be well again!
            For so the night will more than pay
            The hopeless longing of the day.

            Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
            A messenger from radiant climes,
            And smile on thy new world, and be
            As kind to others as to me!

            Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
            Come now and let me dream it truth;
            And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
            And say: My love! why sufferest thou?

            Come to me in my dreams, and then
            By day I shall be well again!
            For so the night will more than pay
            The hopeless longing of the day.


Well, did you enjoy?  Could you tell this was my very first fanfic?

Special thanks to Carri and Nay for putting up with me - you guys are the
best!!!!

I'm toying with the idea of an afternoon at the symphony - Yea or
nay?
mish_rose@yahoo.com