***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.
The songs "She's Always A Woman," "She's Got A Way,"
and "You're My Home" belong to Billy Joel.

ARCHIVING: Link only, please!

==========

Caught on Tape
by shannono
shannono@iname.com


Story, Angst, Songfic, Mulder/Scully Romance

Rated PG

Spoilers through "Memento Mori"

Summary: Mulder and Scully listen to a little Billy Joel, and come
to a few realizations.

==========

Caught on Tape
by shannono


Dana Scully crossed her legs as she hit the "rewind" button on her tape
recorder, trying to recapture the last few words of the notes she was
transcribing. Nothing happened. She shook the hand-held recorder and
tried "play"; still nothing. Reaching across the table, she grabbed the
small box where she kept extra batteries, and found it empty.

<Great,> she thought, an image of the adapter cord lying on a table at her
apartment springing into her mind. <At this rate, I'll *never* get out of
here.>

Her partner, Fox Mulder, was gone again, chasing down some obscure lead
he hadn't seen fit to inform her about. So Scully was alone in the basement
office, trying to tie up their last case so she could head home for some
well-deserved rest. She briefly considered leaving the transcription for
the next day but decided instead to check Mulder's desk for his recorder.

She stood and crossed to the desk, flicking on the light as she pulled open
the top drawer. What a mess, she thought, smiling wryly at the jumble of
papers, pens, and other junk. Amazingly enough, though, the recorder was
right on top -- with the earpiece plugged in and a tape already inside.

She pulled out the recorder and popped the door, extracting a worn tape.
She looked at it and, to her surprise, read one word on the label -- "Dana."
Curious, she replaced the tape, pulled out the earpiece, and pushed "play."

The first haunting piano notes sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place
them. Until the singer's distinctive voice sang the first words, and her breath
left her in a rush:

>>She can kill with a smile
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child
But she's always a woman to me.<<

She found herself thinking back to the day the week before when she'd seen
a couple of Billy Joel tapes sitting in Mulder's car, while she was waiting
for him to run back into the office for a file he'd forgotten. She'd been
curious then, but Mulder had returned and launched into one of his convoluted
theories before she could ask him about it, and she'd simply pushed the
moment aside.

Now, she listened with rapt attention as the words continued to unfold:

>>She can lead you to love
She can take you or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe you
And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free
She steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me.<<

"She can ask for the truth, but she'll never believe you ..." Is that what
Mulder really thought of her? That she never quite believed him? Well, it
was true that she rarely put much stock in his most outlandish ideas, but
then, these days, neither did he. It was almost as if he now approached
each case with the most far-out expectations he could, just to see her
reactions to his crazy conclusions.

She smiled ruefully, remembering the countless times she'd countered his
ideas with scientifically correct, rational explanations -- and how many of
those times her conclusions had been just as wrong as his, if not more so.

Yes, it was true that she didn't always believe in the same things her partner
did. But didn't he know by now there was one thing she did believe in? She
believed in him, her best friend. And wasn't that what really mattered?

Her thoughts returned to the lyrics:

>>Oh, she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh, and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind.<<

<Ooh, that man!> she thought, shaking her head in amusement and a little
frustration. "Just changes her mind"? Like she'd never admitted he was
right and she was wrong. Well, she'd just have to see about that ... but
the music went on:

>>And she'll promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me.<<

Scully's mood and face softened at these words, remembering all the times
she'd seen Mulder at his best with her -- by her bedside when she emerged
from her coma, comforting her after Melissa's and Penny Northern's deaths,
fighting against the cancer that threatened to tear her away. And she'd seen
him at his worst, she admitted, although he wasn't always himself at those
times -- like when he was pointing a gun at her against his will, or when he
was being drugged and accused her of spying on him.

And she definitely remembered all the times he had blamed himself for 
their predicaments. She had never blamed him, of course, through all the
death and despair they'd both suffered. But he still held himself responsible,
and she didn't know how to relieve him of that burden.

The song continued:

>>She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
But she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me.<<

As the notes faded away, Scully thought of years of cases they'd
investigated, the personal crises they'd endured, the arguments, the
tenderness, and knew she wouldn't change anything if it meant she'd
lose him now. A new resolve came over her, and with the tape recorder
still in her hand, she crossed to her desk and reached for her phone,
punching in the familiar cell phone number.

"Mulder."

She could hear music in the background, and wondered ... "Mulder, it's
me," she said. "Are you home?"

"Yeah, I finished up and came on back here," he said, puzzlement and
concern in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said, "but I'm coming over, if that's okay."

"Of course," he said, "Um, I may have to run out for a minute, but if I
don't answer, just let yourself in."

"I'm on my way."

Scully hung up, then ejected the tape and slipped it into her coat pocket.
Grabbing her purse and the transcription she'd been working on, she
headed out the door -- before she could talk herself out of it.

==========

(Earlier that day ...)

Mulder exited the small cafe and crossed to his car. Well, that hadn't
done much good, he thought, although Scully might have some suggestions
when he filled her in tomorrow. He climbed into the driver's seat, started
the car, and reached for one of the tapes in the center console. Recently,
whenever he was alone, he kept finding himself coming back to several old
Billy Joel tapes. He wasn't normally one for sappy love songs, but a few of
these had captured his attention and wouldn't let go.

And he knew the reason, although he sure couldn't let *her* know. At least,
not yet.

He inserted the tape as he pulled out into traffic:

>>She's got a way about her
I don't know what it is
But I know that I can't live without her.
She's got a way of pleasin'
I don't know what it is
But there doesn't have to be a reason anywhere.<<

Mulder's thoughts went back over the past few years, starting from the
moment he'd looked up from his desk and seen her standing before him.
He'd barely greeted her, launched into a description of their first case,
but that one look had reached deep inside him and touched a part of him
he didn't even know he had. He hadn't understood it then, but now it seemed
crystal clear: He *couldn't* live without her.

>>She's got a smile that heals me
I don't know why it is
But I have to laugh when she reveals me
She's got a way of talkin'
I don't know why it is
But it lifts me up when we are walkin' anywhere.

She comes to me when I'm feelin' down
Inspires me without a sound
She touches me and I get turned around.<<

<Boy, is *that* ever the truth,> Mulder thought. He smiled slightly as he
pictured her, giving him that *look* she always did after he spouted forth
one of his crazy ideas, or cracked a ridiculous joke. Somehow she always
knew just how to react to his pronouncements, always knew when to take
him seriously, when to ignore him, and when to shoot back her own light
remark. She could always lift his spirits, usually just by being near him.

>>She's got a way of showin'
How I make her feel
And I find the strength to keep on going.<<

Mulder knew she *was* his strength, that, without her, his world would have
crumbled long ago. Heck, it nearly had, every time he nearly lost her --
and there had been plenty of those times. He still blamed himself for every
one, leaving him with a dark spot on his soul and a weakness only she
could support.

>>She's got a light around her
And everywhere she goes
A million dreams of love surround her everywhere.<<

Mulder sighed, the song ending just as he pulled up at his apartment
building. He left the tape where it was, climbed out, and headed upstairs,
still thinking about that last verse. For so long, he'd avoided sleep because
of the dark nightmares that lurked there. But during the past year or so,
he'd found some of those nightmares being replaced by foggy but still
hopeful dreams, dreams where he'd been alone, but could see a light in
the distance and felt himself drawn to it. In the dreams, he hadn't yet
reached the light, though he'd tried.

It had taken him a while to make the connection, but he'd finally realized
that *she* was that light, and he'd never reach it in his dream until he
reached it in his life. Now, if he could only decide what to do about it ...

He entered his dark apartment, peeling off his coat as he headed for the
tape player sitting next to the television. He punched the "play" button, and
the song began again:

>>She's got a way about her
I don't know what it is
But I know that I can't live without her.<<

Mulder dropped onto the couch beside his coat, leaned back and closed his
eyes, letting the music flow over him like a cool breeze. He felt himself
relaxing ... and his cell phone rang.

Sitting up, Mulder groped in the dark for the phone, punched a button and
said, "Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me. Are you home?"

When he heard the tone of her voice, his heart jolted. "Yeah, I finished
up and came on back here," he said, concerned and a little puzzled. "Is
something wrong?"

"No," she said, "but I'm coming over, if that's okay."

"Of course," he said, looking across at the tape player as an idea formed.
"Um, I may have to run out for a minute, but if I don't answer, just let
yourself in."

"I'm on my way."

Mulder punched another button, then dropped the phone and pushed himself
off the couch. Well, he thought, here goes nothing ...

==========

Scully nearly turned back three times on her way over to Mulder's
apartment. But she fought the urge each time, determined to see through
the episode that had started when she listened to his tape. The words of
the song still danced in her head as she drove ...

>>She can lead you to love
She can take you or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe you
And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free
She steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me.<<

Did he really believe she could "take or leave" him? She could no more
leave him than she could leave her own body. And just what had she stolen
from Mulder? Could it be the same thing he had stolen from her so long
ago -- her heart? 

She shook herself slightly to dispel the thought as she pulled up in front
of his apartment building and shut off the engine. Okay, so she wouldn't
confront him directly about the song. She didn't feel quite ready for the
risk of scaring him off. She would use the pretense of the case, asking him
to clarify a passage of her transcription. Then, she'd casually pull out
the tape, saying she'd taken it out of his recorder when she borrowed it
and had inadvertently picked the tape up when she left. She'd see where
things went from there.

Taking a few deep breaths, she reached into her pocket to be sure his tape
was still there, then she picked up the recorder from the passenger seat,
climbed out of the car, and headed up the walk and upstairs. She stopped
and knocked at Number 42, but got no answer. She knocked again, calling,
"Mulder?" Still no answer. So she pulled out her keys, selected the one
with his name on it, and let herself in.

The apartment was dark, save for a single candle burning on the shelf
beside the television. Leaving her purse and coat on the end of the couch,
she crossed the room and saw a note attached to the tape player. She
leaned over and read the two words: "Hit 'play.'"

A startled look crossed her face, and she looked around the room again.
Mulder's coat wasn't there -- and he had said he might be going out. She
looked back at the tape player, hesitated, then did as the note asked.

The by-now familiar voice of Billy Joel came from the speakers, but the
lilting tone of the song was new to her:

>>When you look into my eyes
And you see the crazy gypsy in my soul
It always comes as a surprise
When I feel my withered roots begin to grow
Well, I never had a place that I could call my very own
But that's all right, my love, 'cause you're my home.<<

She felt her knees weaken as the emotions in the words pierced her heart.
Backing up to the chair by the window, she lowered herself into the seat,
her eyes glued to the flickering candle and her ears to the music:

>>When you touch my weary head
And you tell me everything will be all right
You say, use my body for your bed
And my love will keep you warm throughout the night
Well, I'll never be a stranger, and I'll never be alone
Wherever we're together, that's my home.<<

Scully realized her hands were shaking, and she clasped them tightly
together, resting her elbows on her knees as she leaned forward, drawn
to the song:

>>Home can be the Pennsylvania Turnpike
Indiana's early morning too
High up in the hills of California
Home is just another word for you

Well, I never had a place that I could call my very own
But that's all right, my love, 'cause you're my home.

If I travel all my life
And I never get to stop and settle down
Long as I have you by my side
There's a roof above and good walls all around
You're my castle, you're my cabin and my instant pleasure dome
I need you in my house 'cause you're my home.<<

As the music started to fade, she heard a footstep and looked up to see
him standing in the doorway. His eyes showed a soul laid bare, with a
fear and a longing so deep it made her heart skip a beat. She couldn't
move, couldn't talk, could barely breathe.

Seconds passed, and she saw the look in his eyes change slightly as he
sagged against the doorframe. She realized he was losing hope that she
shared his obvious feelings, and the thought of his pain brought tears
to her eyes. As the first drop slid down her cheek, she managed to begin
a smile, and hope sprang back onto his face. He took a step toward her,
faltered again, then took another, that marvelous smile spreading across
his face as strength returned to her legs and she rose from her chair to
meet him.

Then they were in each others' arms.

==========END==========