Title: More Than (1/1)
Author: RM >lebontrager@iname.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.

SPOILERS:: Vaguely this season.....

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More Than
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--"Music I heard with you was more than music, and bread I broke with
you was more than bread."
Yes. And always will be.--

--Madeline L'Engle, "Two-Part Invention" Crosswicks Journal: Book Four

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The sun was dipping hot fingers into the sea, sizzling with the contact
as water met light, and the resulting bathwater warmth offered only
slight relief. The vivid blue of the sky clashed with the dull grey of
the ocean, and the white capped waves rode stilting tides to the rocks,
finding a certain amount of relief in smashing apart on the cliffs.
Soft, lazy breeze sprinkled salt sprays into her eyes, a half felt
effort that merely served to annoy her.

Dana Scully pushed the towel back from her shoulders, letting her bare
skin warm to the sun, warm to his eyes probing her body for permission.
She didn't turn, but she knew he was there, watching her and protecting
her with his sense of unwavering intensity. As if the fierceness of his
need could hide her from harm.

She settled into the side of the rock face, scratching her knees on
brambled weeds and the sharp corners of the hand-chiseled path. Her
towel bunched and she wiggled around to keep it smooth, trying to
prevent dirt and rocks from getting up her shorts. The sun was like a
heavy hand on her head, and she blinked, then winced into the sea.

It was still such a lazy day, such a place and feeling removed from
time. She knew they would end up sleeping in the king sized bed
somewhere around one o'clock, his hand across her belly and his lips
pressed to her forehead. She knew that sometime early the next morning,
she would throw off the man-blanket and pad into the living room to
watch the sun come up again. She knew these things and yet she didn't
feel the need to panic.

At home, in DC, she had panicked. They had both panicked and fled and
ended up on the New England coast, wishing they had the courage to head
back whole and unified and unbreakable. But that just wasn't the truth.

She felt his touch before she realized he was there and his hand slid
smoothly down her shoulder, warm and light.

"Hey," she said and turned her face to the light of his eyes, ignoring
the haze of the sun for the brilliance of his intensity.

She felt as if they were stuck somewhere between dream and death, with
their jobs and the conspiracies and the smoking man menacing on the
right, and then this new thing struggling between them on the left. His
hand left her shoulder and travelled to kiss her cheek with a brush of
skin and nail.

Married, married. She still couldn't wrap her soul around the thought,
still couldn't help wrapping her body around him at night, as if afraid
he would be gone when she woke. His hands were like magic, caressing and
memorizing and exploring, even in the sunshine and the spray, so smooth
and cool, like a balm.

"Mulder. . ."

He gave up the search of fingers and pulled her tightly against him,
nestling her back into his chest and tucking her so snugly into him it
was as if their bodies had molded and flowed and burned to join just so.

"We can't hide out here forever," she said softly.

She listened to her truth echo down the rocks and to the sea, then drown
there by the slow pull of the summer lethargy. They were gentle and easy
together and work and world were too far away to even worry them.
Mulder's hands seduced her skin and her heart was given to him in a
phoenix created of desire-flames and cold-ashes.

It was so beautiful, it was so perfect. It was so not them.

"Scully?"

"Hmm?"

"What if we just lived here forever, no more roads, no more monsters. I
would like that," he sighed and leaned his chin into her neck, his
tongue licking slowly along her artery.

It wasn't a question, but more of an apology, a way of showing her that
she was important to him, that this was right, but that the real world
was there and waiting and they could not escape. Living out their lives
on the cliffed coast of New England was plausible, yes, and they might
even try it for a month, but guilt and duty and honor would drive them
back, worse for the retirement.

"I would like that too," she said anyway, playing along, moving her head
to nip at his lips with her teeth and soften the brush with her lips.
Her hands worked into fists at her sides, so tense with the waiting,
with the holding back. Mulder liked slow, she wanted fast. It was his
turn.

He chuckled into her ear and French kissed her neck, mirth overriding
need as he felt her tremble. His body pushed into hers tightly, fitting
his hips into her back and drawing her so close, so close, that air
between them was nothing, and he was aching with every touch.

But he wanted to talk, needed to have things out there and waiting for
them when life returned. He was still Mulder, and she still Scully, and
reassurance was needed but not given, as always. So he closed his mouth
and rested his forehead against the back of her neck, leaning her
forward as he tried to control his ache.

She twined her fingers in his and was content to wait, breathing slowly
in and out to the time of the slow breaking of water upon the rocks. The
grey dullness of the ocean soon matched the grey dullness in her eyes as
she waited for him to speak.

"Scully. We'll leave tomorrow."

She nodded. This time had been a fantasy, a beautiful thing created out
of love and marriage and wild imaginations, but it was fading fast, even
if their need wasn't. 

"I've already packed us both."

He smiled then, and lifted his head, placing a gentle kiss to the crown
of her head. 

"You did?"

"I knew."

"I figured you would understand."

"Did someone call?"

". . ." He looked startled, mouth open.

"I saw that your cellular had been turned back on. I left mine off,
though."

"I'm sor-"

"No. It was time. I went in to turn it on, but you already had."

He grinned again, then moved so that he was sitting next to her on the
towel, his shoulder scraping the cliff and his cheek reddened by
scratches from the brambles. She reached out and thumbed away the blood,
then kissed the lips pouting at her.

"Skinner called."

She nodded, thinking as much. Her hands reached for his unconsciously,
and he tucked her smaller fingers in his own again.

"There's a case. Something very wrong with it too. A disease. There are
four little boys who are going to die."

"This was on purpose?"

"No, probably not." He was watching the ocean and then turning to look
in her eyes as if comparing the color. Deciding which was real.

"All right. Are we ready?"

"I hope so."

She shook her head and leaned against him, letting her weakness show at
a moment where she would have straightened her spine and shuttered her
mind. She was different here, and she knew it. She just hoped the
difference was soul changing and life rearranging enough to keep it
there. She wanted to go home with Mulder every night and wake up with
him every morning.

That was part of the reason she had allowed him to take her away, marry
her in secret, love her in a remote section of the New England beach. It
was time to leave, hopefully she wouldn't be leaving the good, the
marriage, behind too.

"We're ready, Scully. We've both stopped freezing up. I know you love
me, you know I love you. It's a miracle, yes, but we both believe."

She wanted to laugh at that, but he was serious and so was she. His hand
was circling her belly with tenderness, wishing things and hoping
things, but knowing it wouldn't happen. She had showed him it was good
to wish and hope, and he had showed her that it was all right if it
never happened.

"If we have a baby, are we going to quit?" he asked.

It was a silly question, something they would never have to face, but it
sent a thrill through her to think about it, to decide now.

"Yes."

"Yes," he echoed, smiling and looking at her body with a new
appreciation.

"If we find Samantha, are we going to quit?"

It was not a silly question, something they would continually face but
probably never achieve. If Samantha had been alive, she would not be
given back now, not after the burning at the Air Force base. Things were
past redemption, and they knew this deep in them.

"No," he answered and shivered a bit. It signalled a wish to change the
subject and she complied, leaning over to rest on his arm.

"It's hot out here," he said.

She nodded. "Hot and boring."

He smiled. "And the cliff is pretty steep. You could fall down. I could
fall down."

She took his hand and stood up, pulling him with her. "And the water is
lukewarm, like a bath that's sat out too long."

He shook out the towel and folded it over his shoulder, then took her
hand again. She led them through the brambles and back to the path,
reaching for the top.

"And all these thorns. . .they hurt."

Scully nodded and scrambled back to the grass and rocks, helping him up
too. They stood there a moment, watching the lukewarm water meet the hot
sun and wishing the beauty of the place still did not affect them so
much.

"And. . .and the house creaks at night," she added lamely.

Mulder glanced to her and sighed loudly, pulling her body roughly into
his.

"We creak at night too. . .let's stop rationalizing and just go. This
will always be a wonderful place."

"It will be more than just a place," she whispered.

His lips found hers again and sought her warmth, looking and seeking and
needing reassurance. Already they were finding ways to doubt, already
they were pushing back and forth from love to partner, like a slow game
of tug-of-war.

"It always will be more," he said.

"I'm not. . .I'm not ready to give up on this, Mulder. I'll never be
ready to give up on this, understand?"

He looked devastated. "I would never. . .never want you to think about
giving up. Scully. I thought we were past this, past the doubts and-"

"We are. We are. It's not a doubt," she said hastily. "It's a promise. A
lifetime of promises."

He sighed and hugged her fiercely, then began walking for the house,
walking for the road back to their life.

"I'll hold you to that promise, more than anything, it's something I 
am. . .you're something I am."

She squeezed his hand and watched the sun blazing down the sky in a
sudden rush of evening energy, anxious to get moving.

"Let's go, husband. We're fine."

He laughed. "We're just about perfect."

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end
adios
RM