Title: Midnight (1/1)
Author: RocketMan >lbontger@wmcstations.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No
infringement is intended.
Summary:  Mulder and Scully observe a ritual few know of.

Midnight

I am watching this wonderfully horrible movie called "The Fly" when she
calls.
"Mulder." I answer.
"Hey. It's me."
I smile and click off the television.
"Hey, you."
She is smiling too, I can just see it. 
"Mulder, are you all right?"
I raise an eyebrow. She's asking me this? She was the one who looked
about ready to cry earlier today.
"Um, well. I'm all right." I say, hoping she will come over tonight.
I glance at the clock.
It's ten thirty.
That's perfect.
"Do you want me to come over tonight?" she says.
<And you have to aks?>
"Yeah, if you would."
I try to make it sound like I need her to come over, not the other way
around. I do want her over here, but she won't come if she finds that
she's the one needing help.
"All right. I'll be there in about thirty minutes."
We hang up and I smile to myself.
I stand and walk to the fridge, getting out some milk and pouring it in
her glass. I found out last time that she likes skim milk. It helps her
relax at night, puts her to sleep.
But she doesn't like it too cold.
So if I pour it now, it'll be ready for her when she gets here.
I pick up a few dirty clothes and some underwear I haven't had time to
clean yet, and stuff them in my bedroom.
Scully never remarks on the state of my apartment, but hers is so neat
all the time that I think she works better when things are neat.
I straighten some of the cushions and wander around my living room,
waiting for her.
I think about our case.
It wasn't particularly dangerous, nor conspiracy related, but it was
disturbing. A father went nuts and gone on a rampage, kidnapping his
children aling with two of their friends and later killed them.
We were too late.
It weighed a lot on her the whole plane trip home.
She needed to stop thinking for awhile, so I had told her to go home,
get some rest.
Evidently she hadn't.
So she was coming over tonight.
About once a week now, she came over. Either because of me, or because
of her.
Tonight it was her.
I sit down on the couch and wait for her.
A light tapping on my front door signals that she's here and she walks
in as I stand up.
In jeans and a T-shirt, with her hair pulled into a ponytail she looks
comfortable, easy going. I smile.
"Hey beautiful," I say softly.
She doesn't smile but her eyes glow.
Tonight is the only time  I could get away with that.
She walks over and I take her hand and seat her on the couch, giving her
the milk.
She smiles because I've remembered, and takes a long gulp, as if the
milk could drown her problems.
She sets it down and leans back, closing her eyes.
I am reminded of the last time she came over, near midnight.
She came then because of me, and sat on the couch just like this as I
made us hot chocolate. I walked over and gave her the mug and she looked
up at me and told me with her eyes that everything would be just fine.
Her eyes always heal me.
She sighs loudly and I watch her for as long as she stays that way.
Then she opens her eyes and looks at me.
"You know this has really affetced me, don't you?" she says.
I nod.
Her face stops putting out that aura of self-control and she seems to
crumple.
I open my arms and she crawls into them, resting her head on my chest.
I know she needs this. She comes to me when she has nothing left of
herself because she knows she can be anyone with me, and I will still
love her. 
I caress her hair, reveling in the scent and the feel, as she closes her
eyes.
I lay her down, stretched out across the couch, her head pillowed in my
lap. I run my fingers over her forehead, lightly smoothing away the
frown lines and trace her eyes with a fingertip. She shivers and shifts
under my touch. 
I've noticed she likes to be touched, although she'd never realize it.
She needs that closeness with another human being, especially after
cases where it seems like the whole world is cruel and crazy. Her family
was so close and together that I know it is hard for her to keep them
away all the time. She feels truly alone with them because so much of
our job is classified and no one understands.
I'm the only one who knows everything.
I'm the only one she can run to.
I always take her when she seeks me; I need her just as much.
She likes to feel someone's warmth on her face, in her hand, on her
back, or just holding her. I almost am a teddy bear in a way, something
that she can be human with again. 
She likes to be touched, because she likes to know she is alive.
In that she is beautiful, and I gladly hold her to me.
I like sliding my fingertips over the smooth planes of her face and the
contours of her soft skin. She sighs under me and her lips move against
the skin of my palm. A whisper of her breath sends shivers of molten
lava through my blood.
She shifts and her face turns into my stomach, lips brushing across the
skin that becomes sensitive to her every movement. I lay my hand on her
head, palm to her cheek, fingers snarled in her hair, as if my touch can
give her heavenly benediction.
And it seems to.
Her breathing slows and her muscles ripple into smooth pools of
strength. I run my thumbs along her high cheekbones and her lips brush
my palm again.
"Mmm," she murmurs, and I can't describe what that noise from her does
to me.
"Everything seems better when you touch me," she says. 
I'm sure she doesn't know what that does to me. My blood feels like it
will burst from my veins and my body could run a mile in a second.
She shifts again and I smooth my fingers around her face, then trail
down her arms to her stomach, leaving trails where I've forged this new
territory.
I like touching her and she likes to be touched.
I glance at the clock and see it's midnight.
Just like last time.
I look back to her and she is asleep.
I guess I do something that puts her at ease.
She won't wake until morning I know.
I kiss her forehead and lean back in the couch, holding her.
I can fall asleep now.

end 
adios
RocketMan