Cornfields are Forever By RocketMan Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and FOX. No fringe is intended. Rating: PG-13, MS(R?)/UST Summary: Scully takes a detour. (No, not like raining sleeping bags detour). ========== Cornfields are Forever He watched her move through the rows of corn, her bright reddish brown hair a golden fish in the sea of leaf-green. Her hips moved slightly as she stepped forward, swallowed by the endless stalks, the dirt crunching lightly under her feet. He paused at the edge and wiped the sweat off his forehead, glancing back forlornly to the air conditioned car sitting like a behemoth on the edge of the road, wishing he had to car keys. It eluded him as to why she would suddenly pull their nice cool car over in the middle of Kansas, well the outside edge, near Leavenworth, for those endless rows of corn. So he looked to see where she was going, and began to follow. He took one step and his foot's impact sent waves of earty farmer smells up at him, of day's sweat and honest living mixed with the love of nature and animals. He could imagine her here, every day, running through the corn stalks like a summer's child, the wind playing with her hair and tossing it behind her, and the sun shining down on her fair skin to redden it like ripe tomatoes. Her bare feet left small imprints and it was only then that he realized she had slipped her shoes off in the car, he assumed while she was driving. It was another one of those odd things he hadn't noticed before. Besides the distinct trail, he could easily follow her slow movements, her beacon of red hair helping to show the way. It was odd seeing her among nature's warmth, when he was so used to seeing her in the grip of the city's smoggy hands, or the recesses of dark warehouses, searching for the oddest of suspects. In this suspended moment, she was like a child in her old home, delighting in the summer, perspiring under the sun, and smiling more than once at his lame jokes. He watched her from a little way off and was afraid to call her name, less she get shoved back into reality adn become Dr. Scully again. The stalks brushed against his face like teasing hands and he enjoyed this moment of carefree summer, watching her move gracefully between the rows of corn like she was born under the same sun as they. He caught up to her because she had stopped: already he could see the flush in her cheeks and the bright eyes that he had never though to identify her with. She looked beautiful standing in the amber waves of sunlight, her soft blue dress cascading down her legs to swirl in the stiff breeze. He was afraid to touch her, as if doing so would bring her fire spirit back from whatever heaven she had ascended to. He longed to follow her there, to touch such overflowing contentment at least once in his life. But he also wanted her to remain frozen forever in this moment, crystallized in corn and summer, always glowing with an untapped, unfathomable love. "Do you mind if we keep going?" she asked, with one raised eyebrow. This look seemed out of place in the corn, but it was sent as a peace offering for him, a token of common ground to recognize in the newness that had come over her. He let his mouth speak before he had a handle on his thoughts. "Looking like that, I'd follow you anywhere." She glanced at her dress, at her her slim figure for a brief second, and then looked back at him. He was relieved to see that there was no frown and not a single spark of veiled humor. She had appreciated his comment for what it was. Her eyes were electric blue fire, sapping him with so much energy he couldn't stand still. He took her hand before she could say anything and squeezed it. "Race you." A familiar expression crossed her face, but it was one that he liked. An answer to a challenge with just a hint of seduction. "You don't know where we're going," she replied. He grinned wickedly, "I'll find out, won't I?" She smiled back, her brilliance eclipsing the sun. Then she took off, her form falling away from him in the huge stalks. He followed behind, both of them conserving their energy for that last stretch when he would know where they were running to. He was only a few feet behind her, watching her feet touch the dirt, and her muscular legs flex in the sun. Sweat glistened from her body, mingling with the dust, and he could not help wanting her. Wanting her right then. They came to a clearing in the field, where a small shelter for storing tools was rusting away, and she sprinted forward, running for her life. He churned his legs and pulled even with her, then ahead, hearing her breathing right behind him, almost in his ear. They came up on the steel frame and slapped the sides as they flew by. He had beat her. He circled back around, grinning, and walked-jogged over to her. They matched up and began to walk around the perimeter of the clearing to cool down as their bodies heaved and chests expanded. "You're pretty fast for such a little person," he said as they claimed refuge from the sun under the roof of the shed. She looked out at him from shining eyes but said nothing to his comment for awhile. "You've seen me run before Mulder," she said quietly, sitting down on the packed dirt floor. The dress billowed out and floated back to rest on her sweat-sticky thighs. He couldn't help but watch this for a moment, before turning over a rain barrel and sitting down heavily on it. "Yeah, I've seen you chase after suspects, but I wasn't paying attention to how fast you were." She gave him a look and leaned against the side of the wall, her neck revealed to him like a vampire's feast. "So what are you usually concentrating on?" she asked. He licked his lips and moved away from her, back against the wall. "Let's just say it's not my fault we lose so many suspects that way." ========== She sighed a little and sat up, leaning in close to him, the view now offered far better than watching her dress stick to her legs. He wondered if she was doing it on purpose, to tease him. Scully wasn't a tease though. But Scully also wasn't a free spirit running through corn either. He leaned back to get his eyes away from their dangerous path, and stretched his muscles as pretense, closing his eyes to half-slits. "Do you like it here?" she asked, her face revealing nothing, but her voice indicating the importance of his answer. He glanced around, eyes searching through the long rows of green to come to rest on the huge pools of blue. "Yes, I do. It's peaceful," he replied honestly. She looked away from his eyes and he caught the edges of her hidden smile, making him grin quickly and smother it when she turned again to look at him. "Good. I like it here too. It helps me find balance." He sat quietly listening to her, mainly because he was fast falling in love with this new inflection, new tone of throatiness, that was apparent in her voice. She closed her eyes and her mouth parted to breathe better. Her chest rose up and down and he felt guilty for watching her like he was: like she deserved better than his primal instincts and animal hormones. She was basking in it, though. Her body warmed to the glow of his eyes and the waves of his desire. She was impressed that he had not tried anything, but it also touched her deeply because it showed the respect he obviously carried for her. She closed her eyes in contentment and let her entire body relax completely. She knew that out in the cornfields, with Mulder a few feet from her, nothing could happen. Her body untensed, her muscles uncoiled, and she felt good for the first time since . . . since the news of her cancer. Mulder watched her pulse twitch slowly in her throat and her eyes grow heavy lidded and sleepy. "Mulder . . ." she said finally, opening one eye. His mind felt just as relaxed watching her unwind, but his muscles were tensed, his body poised on the balls of his feet. "Can't you relax?" she said and turned her face to see him better. A soft breeze rustled the corn into whispers and danced her hair across her face and into her eyes, making her miss his expression of rapt attention. "I guess not," she said, frowning as his body tensed and shifted slightly. It was like a call to challenge for her: make Mulder relax. She shifted positions until she was sitting on another rain barrel right behind him, placing her hands to his shoulders. "Let's see if you can," she said and kneaded her knuckles into very sore, very cramped muslces. He made a groaning noise, despite himeslf, and his eyes slammed shut as his head dipped forward, letting frustrated passion disappear under her fingers. He couldn't seem to get up enough energy to thank her, and his eyes refused to open, but the noises that escaped his mouth when he wasn't looking were doing a good job. "That feel good, Mulder?" she murmured, digging harder into his shoulders and back. He nodded and let out a half whine, half grunt that sent little thrills of fire racing through her. "Good," came her voice from somewhere in front of him and he opened his eyes to see a sea of green and blue. He blinked because all his other reactions were delayed by the numbness that had set in after her massage. She looked like she needed to be kissed, but he forgot what muscles to move to lean toward her. Instead she sat next to him and took his hand. He smiled and liked the feel of her side pressed into him, her sweat slick and sweet on his already soaked grey T-shirt. "So what's it about this place that makes you so happy?" he asked. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "This used to be my grandparents' farm," she said softly. He sensed danger but kept on going. "Why aren't they here anymore?" "My Gramma died of cancer and my Papa died a few weeks later of a broken heart." He sighed and looked at her. She was smiling. "It's okay though. They were old and they needed to go home. Papa just didn't want to get left behind. They were my Dad's parents. They died when I was thirteen." He nodded and put an arm around her. She smiled. "We used to come here during the summers, when Mom got a chance to go with Dad on some of his tours. They would go to Tahiti and Hawaii and we'd beg to come here and waste away the summer. It was great. Gramma had oatmeal cookies made and she let us lick the spoon and the bowl and then Papa would tell us all a story. At night we'd play hide and seek in the corn and Papa would ring the dinner bell to get us to come in. You could play that game out here forever and never be found." Her eyes were far away. He liked the way she looked when she told the story, with her hair floating in to weave around her head like a crown, and her ocean eyes gently rocking him back and forth, swimming in intelligence and happiness. He wanted to play hide and seek in the corn with her. He wished he could hide them both away from the world in these long green waving hands of welcoming corn. He wanted to kiss her. On her lips and then her chin and then her neck and taste the sweat and feel her pulse move beneath his mouth. She glanced at him and her eyes narrowed, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Just do it Mulder." ========== He gaped at her and fell off his rain barrel, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud that sent aftershocks of pain coasting through his bones. "Mulder!" she yelped, reaching over to help him back up. "What did you say?" he asked, his bottom now firmly residing on his vacated seat. "Uh. . . Mulder?" she replied, a shady confused cloud coming over her sky-eyes. "No, before that." "Playing hide and seek in the field?" She was getting really concerned for him now, and she had fright and hesitancy etched into her features. He wished he could erase away those lines and have her as she was before. She must not have said it. He had to be going crazy. "Oh, never mind," he groaned and leaned back against the wall as she moved to sit by his feet. He could smell her now. A tiny noise escaped his lips and he rubbed his face raw trying not to let her show just how much she was getting to him. But it came again. As if a breath of God was sending her scent straight to him: flowers and earth and sweat combined with the aroma of the day's morning shower and being on the road. He wanted to reach out and touch her hair: it looked like a waterfall of satin gold and red, curling on the ends like plumed feathers. He had an idea. "Thanks for the back rub," he murmured. "It feels great." She gave him a special smile and he grinned, then suddenly stopped as if he had remembered something. "Scoot closer, I'll do your shoulders now," he said. She shrugged and turned back to him. "Fair enough." It was ecstasy. He reached out and pulled her hair away from her neck, letting his hands glide through like sailboats cutting through an ocean. Her head tilted a bit, then her tongue came out to lick her lips as he touched her skin. Her shoulders were smooth and soft, with strong muscles bunched beneath fair skin. His breath came out and skirted along the edges of her neck, hot and quick like steam. She shivered and he flexed his fingers, making her skin loosen and her muscles tight. While his hands worked her shoulders, his eyes roved over her body. Her head was tucked between her knees, her hands locked and loosely clasped in front of her. Her knees were jutted out into the air like flags on the moon, and her head lolled back and forth as he worked out her muscles. Her neck stretched before him like a ray of light, smooth and soft and ridged with her spine. He let his thumbs slide forward before quickly coming back to her shoulders. After a few minutes, she was making soft pitiful noises that sent fire straight to his stomach and ripped through his guts. It felt almost as if his bones had been axed in two, split in the middle like green wood. He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. This was ==Scully.== Not some . . . raunchy video or something. He had more respect for her, and for himself, than to be doing this. He let his hands drop and she sighed like in the old Coke commercials -- a satisfied expulsion of breath and a thirst quenched. He moved to place her hair back on her neck, his fingers shaking as they connected with the fine strands. She was very still in front of him, perched there almost, as if waiting for something to happen. The air was still as he slowly ran his hand down her hair. Everything was still. He fiddled with the ends then reached up and started both hands at the top of her head, shaking when she slumped back into him. With her head propped against his leg, face turned so that her cheek was resting on his knee, he let his hands make their journey again. Tangles were softly sifted from her hair, and sighs issued from her lips. She was relaxing under his fingers as if every touch was laced with sedatives. He moved to see her face and was surprised. Her eyes were heavy and slipping shut, her mouth parted as if inviting him to kiss her lips in agonizing slowness. He sank down to the ground behind her, slipping his arms around her stomach and pulling her body to his. She came willingly and let her head fall against his chest. She was trusting him; he knew this now. She was trusting him to lead them into places that were brighter than this valley of Shadows. The touch of his warm hand and large body slipped around her: she was capsuled in him. She was falling asleep to his heartbeat's lullabye and drowning in the cells of his skin. Mulder closed his eyes and reveled in the sensations radiating through him like an electric heater in winter. In these cornfields, with the sun fiercely berating them, he wanted to touch her and have her . . . have her melt into him. Her eyes were fluttering and her chest falling into rhythm with his heart: she was a small child tucked into his arms and he was in love with her. "Scully?" he whispered. She didn't move. He couldn't help himself anymore: he had to touch her more than just this, more than just watching and holding. His bent his head forward and let his breath fall against her skin, his nose touching her neck with languid desire. He moved up and brushed his lips to her forehead, feeling nothing but her and the heat. In the surrealism of the cornfield and the heat, the touch was more than anything before, more exciting, more intoxicating than any other times. He realized his lips were still poised above her forehead and he bent forward again and grazed her nose, her cheek, the corner of her lips. He tasted sweat and skin and more of her than any scent or touch could give him. Her eyes drifted open just as he pulled back and he found himself staring into orbs so bright, they blinded him with their very nature. She didn't move, only stared at him, waiting, waiting. A breath. A fluttering heart. A lone cry of a crow, yearning for corn. He breathed: blinked: shook: closed his eyes. Her hand touched his cheek and his eyes jerked open, watching with fear and forgiveness, fright and forever. She settled more against him and closed her eyes. She was trusting him: trusting that he would lead them to safety. But then she sat up and pushed away from him, a hand to his chest to remind him of her presence, remind him she wasn't going to run away from him. There was nowhere to go. "Mulder?" Her voice was uncertain, her face confused and for the first time, she didn't think she had the answers. He gave her a shy, little boy smile, peeking up at her with the tops of his eyes. "You looked so peaceful," he said, as if that could explain everything. "I just wanted to touch that." She blinked and stood up, stretching her cramped legs, then walked to the edge of the little shelter. The sun streamed in and made a halo of pure angel light around her. He watched her with the sort of pride that came from simply knowing her, as if somehow he had been a part of her creation. He was wishing too much. He'd had no part in making this beautiful woman who stood there before him. He loved seeing her like this: with the sun catching fire to her hair and making it gold, her eyes lost in the green of the cornfield. He wished she would stay forever like this; that they could eternally be in the corn, easy and comfortable even when he did something stupid like kiss her. Even when he did something stupid, everything was all right. Was it the place or them? She turned in the light, her front being plenty warmed, to face his eyes and his look. He smiled and stood and came to her. He quenched the feeling of panic rising through him and took her arms in his hands, squeezing. "You look beautiful." His words came out soft, shaky, all the more wonderful because he meant them and he was afraid. She looked at him with eyes like calm seas, yet something behind them was raging and storming: passion. Their blue was clear biting autumn winds or rushing, cold creeks he used to catch crawdads in. But alive beneath the chill -- warm and invigorating like fire or lava. Her eyes were both crisp, fresh, and also hungry, longing. He wanted her hunger to swirl to the top and manifest itself in his arms. Any other woman standing before him now, with such an uninterested far away look and sweat pouring from every orifice, would not have him conjure words like beautiful to describe her. With Scully it was as if the parameters had shrunk to only her . . . she was the only thing beautiful in his life. And he was amazed she hadn't run off. ========== He wanted to touch her lips so bad, he ached. In his gut, he was twisting around like fish on a hook, and his heart was being wrung like a washcloth. He =had= to kiss her. The sun was highlighting her hair and her eyes were ravaging his face, so he put his hands to her cheeks and swept his thumbs along her bones, preparing her for what he was about to do. She knew it; he could see the expectancy in her eyes. The flinty blue had been replaced with melted crayon blue; they seemed to plead with him to go ahead and kiss her. So he did. He didn't remember a thing about it except that she pressed into him and raised her head for more. He then looked at her, their separation a mutual need for air and a time to recover. She was looking right back at him, her breath coming quick again, her eyes shadowed. It was not the darkness of too many deaths, too many secrets, but the shadows of joy and forever and a fulfilled hunger, a slaked thirst. "Do that again," she said in her child's summer voice. He smiled and bent down: she met him and it was deeper, more alive, more. So intensely strange: surreal. She sighed and entwined her fingers through his, making a noise with her tongue. Her forehead rested on his chin for a moment and then her eyes glanced to the rows of corn, to the eventual car out there idling, to the world waiting. "Mulder?" she asked, still not looking at him. He squeezed her fingers and hoped the corn's spell would last for a little while longer. "Are you leaving?" she blurted out. He made a kind of cry that made her turn and look in his eyes. Her own were fierce. "No!" he cried, his eyes rioting. Her face was knotted in a small expression of fear. "Oh. With that . . . I thought something was going on. Like when someone learns they only have a few weeks to live and they do crazy things." She was unsure what to do now. "Was that crazy?" he asked, looking at her through half closed lids. She felt like shivering. "For you, that was crazy," she said, but her lips were smiling. "But . . ." "But I liked it." He lit a smile and and realized he could feel the blood punding through the fingers laced in his. He leaned down and kissed her again, softly once more. Scully broke away and looked out at the cornfields, away from him. "So, Scully, if you liked it so much -- how come you never did something crazy when you had the cancer?" She smiled softly at him and shook her head. "There's something in this place, Mulder. I'm not like this when we're other places. Here, nothing's wrong. I am me and I don't have to be someone else." "So be you everywhere." "It's not that easy. =We're= not that easy." "We can be." "How?" She turned and her eyes drilled into him. "Marry me," he whispered. She smiled sadly and shook her head. "I can't Mulder. If we stayed here forever, then it wouldn't be a problem. But someday we have to go back to the world, the conspiracies and cover-ups. It wouldn't work." He knew that but he felt like he had to ask. Her hand was warm in his, like a baby bird, because you could feel its heat and its little heartbeat and its fear of humans. She didn't move away from him but kept looking to the stalks swaying in an imaginary breeze that never quite reached their shelter. As if the wind was consoling the corn because it could not be in the shade like they were. He sighed. "So marry me here. Forget out there, and just marry me. In the corn." She looked to him for a long time, eyes light blue and revealing nothing. "If I do that I'll never want to leave." She sighed. "People need us Mulder. They need you and we'd just be letting them win." He was silent again. He knew that too. It wouldn't work. They matched, but it wouldn't work. Not with people spying on them, dark men watching them, webs of deceit tangling around them, and forever stretching to nothing. He tightened his arms around her buried his face in her neck. Nothing was his own anymore. ========== He had nothing but time anymore, nothing but the short space of seconds before they would leave -- he had to have more than that when he left. So he bent forward and kissed her harder, forcing more of his passion into it than ever, none of the gentleness with which he had handled it before. She gasped and released his hand, as if now, she knew exactly what they had awakened within them. She turned her face and pressed her cheek to his collarbone. He looked down and prayed there was not pity or fear or loathing in her eyes. He felt warm drops of raining tears and carefully raised a hand to caress the side of her head, stroking her hair and brushing her cheek. She turned to him again. "I'm sorry Mulder. I shouldn't have. It's never going to be the same . . . never." He had no words to say to make things better for her. It never would be the same. It would all change and they, together or apart, would have to adapt to it, modify themselves to make it all work, without ending up dead or gone. But now, he would know exactly what he was missing, and so would she. "Okay, Mulder." she said suddenly, her hands like talons around his waist. "Okay what?" he said. "I'll marry you here, in the corn. Only here. I have to . . ." He glanced over her torn and troubled face, hating that he had forced this happiness from her. "Come here," he murmured. He enfolded her in his arms and rubbed her body with his hands, sending friction across her shoulders and through her blood. He ran his fingers through her hair again and she stayed perfectly still. "Mulder? Thank you." "For what?" "For this," she said. "I haven't done anything." She said nothing, but strained her body up to his and kissed him again, unleashing her own fiery passion. It exploded through him and coursed through his body, leaving flaming nerves and severed bones and scorched blood in its path. "I've got to have you," he said gruffly. "You can." He was startled, thrown by her open admission even after she had kissed him so wonderfully. She really wanted this. She yanked on his hand and they began to run, their bodies slicing into the rows and shearing the green from the sky. They didn't care that the sun was unmerciful, that the heat was riding in waves off the ground. They stopped. Panted and breathed. A hot breeze rustled the stalks and made the ears dip down. They looked. Breathed and sweated. Crashed into each other like conflicting waves. The corn listened to nature and body, soul and fear, make love in the dirt. And then lay still, hearing a world start walking again, a life start rushing forward, a war raging again. A war raging again. ========== (two years later) The car was too dirty to even be distinguishable from the dirt road and as he drove, the woman next to him slept. Until something woke her up. The car stopped and she pushed the creaking door open until she could step out, the man following behind her. His hand came to her hair and dropped, brushing her hips as he moved forward. They walked. It was hot and she wiped the sweat from her forehead and imagined things in this place. Her ring shined dully with dirt and sun. They stopped. Green stalks bowed to them as he laid her to the ground. "Second honeymoon," he whispered and descended to her lips. ========== end adios RM ~~feedback?~~