Rocketman XVIII
Never Again
(1/1)Date: Wed, 01 Apr 1998 15:49:56 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No
infringement is intended.
PLEASE REMEMBER: In this show, Mulder has not yet had regression therapy
from that doctor, and does not believe his sister was taken by aliens.
Only after he delves further into such cases does he decide that his
experiences with his sister constitute all the classic symptoms of an
abduction.
POST--TRAVELERS
Never Again
When Fox Mulder made it out into the sunshine, after the dispairing
dimness of the older man's apartment, he stood there for a long time
trying not to think.
The wind glanced across him and plyed tag with the leaves and the slight
chill of fall made him wince.
Or maybe it was the truth that made him wince.
His own father. His own father.
He shrugged deeper into his coat and ambled toward his rental car,
estimating the time it would take to get back to the VCS and then home.
His wasn't looking forward to spending much more time with Patterson;
the man would have his hide for taking off like that and investigating a
case that he would deem worthless.
His own father.....Mulder still couldn't get over it. Still couldn't see
why or how his father had managed to get caught up in all of it. Had the
Red Scare frightened him too? Or did he know of the . . . creatures
coming out of men's mouths and killing?
What were they? Had someone made up these disgusting things to kill off
Americans, or had it been something much larger than that? His father
was used to collect the men or women with the creatures in them,
supposed Communists. So his father was on the side of good. . . right?
But to set him up to be killed by that thing . . . that wasn't good.
What had happened so long ago to make everything come down to this?
These questions were like cannons booming within him, or explosions that
uprooted every good thing he had ever come to see in the government. It
made him naseous to think that he actually worked for such an
institution.
~~~~
The lights were off when he finally made it home that night, not
realizing that it was two o'clock in the morning until he had opened the
door.
Marie was sitting on the couch, her face still and stiff.
He felt a kind of shudder go through him.
He knew what was coming.
"Why'd you leave, Fox?" she said, and her voice was trembling.
She knew he couldn't stand weak women. He gritted his teeth and pushed
the door open.
A thud stopped him and he looked down.
His bags were packed and propped next to the wall beside the door.
"Marie, come on, you know I didn't mean to get back so late."
"You didn't even tell me where you were. You didn't leave a note or tell
anyone at your office or -"
"Marie, look, let's not do this right now. I've had a really bad day and
I've learned some things that have upset me alot."
"I'm sorry, Fox. I can't live like this."
She stood and came to him, her hands shaking and bare of her ring, her
eyes crumbling as she hurt him.
"I can't let this go on. You always loved my strength; well, here it is
again. I can't let you hurt me anymore."
"Marie, honey, please. Not tonight. I need you."
She pushed away from his eagerly seeking hands. "All you need Fox, is an
occassional warm body. I need something more. Please, leave."
His guts twisted into tight balls of rejection and acid seethed through
his stomach.
She left him standing there, moving her long, sinewy body through the
living room and to their bedroom.
Hers now.
It had been her apartment before their marriage; it was only fair it was
now too.
He knew she would hate him if he crawled after her; he would hate
himself if he did too.
He picked up his bags, glanced once more at the brief moments of
happiness he had once shared with this woman, then pried the gold
wedding band off his finger.
He set it on the television and walked out.
Why did he always fall for the ones that broke his heart?
Never again, he promised.
Never again.
end
adios
RM
==="Poor Fox. He always falls for the long legged, brown haired women
who end up trampling him."--my friend
"Which is why he's perfect for Dana Scully."--me===
Next Time
(1/1)Date: Sun, 08 Feb 1998 13:43:55 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully do not belong to me. They are owned by CC,
1013, and FOX Network. No infringement is intended. No offense is meant
to be taken.
Rating: S, PG
Dedication: To Lori H. who inspired this, unbeknowst to her.
Next Time
She watched the clock and waited for the right moment, the exact time
when she knew he began to unwind, relax, put his feet on the desk and
unravel from the day.
The hours dragged by and she knew he had this certain schedule that he
automatically kept on the days when they were in the office. For a man
who claimed to be very messy and disorganized, he had a very distinct
routine and she could predict it at any given time.
At least, when they were in the office. In the field, on a case, she was
way far behind. His mind made so many innane jumps that a rational
thinker like herself couldn't possibly keep up.
He sighed: the first signal; his eyes closed briefly: the second sign.
And then he tilted back and propped his feet up on the desk, a case file
in his hands.
She licked her lips anxiously, feeling quite ridiculous because she was
so nervous about talking to Mulder.
"Mulder?"
"Yup?" he said, eyes glancing to her for a moment.
"I need to talk to you....okay?"
"Unh-huh." he murmured, brow furrowing as his mind began thinking on the
case he held. She could see the wheels spinning, the feet of his brain
taking a running start for one of those amazing leaps of intellect
again.
"Mulder."
"I'm here."
"No, you're not. Look at me." she said, growing disgusted with him
again.
He sighed and looked up, eyes clearly indicating that he had every
intention to continue thinking on the case and not her words.
"We need to talk about some things, Mulder. This is important." she
said, feeling as she spoke that a huge weight was being pressed harder
down on her shoulders.
He was not paying attention.
"Mulder!"
He gave her a sheepish frown and nodded. "Sorry. I'm listening, now."
She took a deep breath and said, "Mulder, I need to know what happened
while I was in the hospital."
His face closed down on her and the defenses were slammed into place.
"Why?"
"Because I keep getting these . . . warnings . . . I don't know who
sends them, but they all say that I need to find out what 'my partner'
is hiding from me . . ."
His face turned sort of white and she wished she hadn't brought it up,
but she needed to know what had happened. Whatever it was, it had
changed him completely. He didn't believe in anything anymore . . . not
even in them.
"Scully . . . nothing happened important that I haven't told you." he
said, knowing that in a way he was lying . . . but Samantha wasn't as
important to him anymore. He was cast adrift . . . lost in the tides of
the directionless.
"Are you sure?" she said.
His face exploded with hurt and she knew that was a very wrong thing to
say.
"Don't you trust me?" he hissed.
Her face blanked.
The phone rang jarringly loud. He snorted and grabbed it, almost causing
the phone to fall to the floor.
"Mulder." he said tersely and listened for a few moments.
He hung up after jotting something down and he looked at her with an
apology written all over his face.
But he would never say he was sorry.
"Scully . . . I have to go see about this . . . We'll talk later, all
right?"
She sighed and slumped in the chair.
He came over and took her shoulder in one of his large hands. "Next
time, Scully. All right? Next time."
She watched him leave her, his shoulders shrugging into his coat, his
step more somber and heavy than usual.
She sighed and dipped her head into her hands, brushing away any sign of
the tears that threatened to spill over.
He was so dense sometimes . . . so incredibly hurtful . . . and he
didn't even mean to be, or even notice it.
She collected the day's paperwork and stuffed it in her briefcase, then
stood, taking deep breaths to quell the odd ache that had risen in her
heart.
"All right, Mulder. Next time. No problem." she said softly.
But the heavy hard feeling in her lungs choked the words and they came
out more twisted and sorrowful than she had meant.
Next time.
She always gave him a next time.
end
adios
RM
Nightmare I
Date: Wed, 05 Aug 1998 23:42:57 +0000
Author: RM >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
Sumamry: This will start a series based on nightmares Scully has after
each episode. This one comes after the Pilot and of course, has such
spoilers.
~~~~~
Nightmare I
~~~~~
She blinked.
Nothing changed.
~~~~~
The grass was wet. Things were too bright to see.
But long, looming shapes rose before her.
Things she could see in the relief of black on white.
Trees?
Or maybe . . . maybe the skinny, grey fleshed creatures she didn't want
to admit were real. Maybe Mulder was right and they were here.
No.
Just trees.
Trees with a bright, blinding light spilling into every part of her
vision, casting faint afterimages as the rods and cones in her eyes
fired chemicals.
She shook her head.
Blinked.
Nothing changed.
~~~~~
There was a whirlwind of leaves, swirling, sucking her hair up and into
the massive attack of air.
Too much light, all around, making her dizzy.
Dizzy.
She twisted, tried to move, but found she was in the center, the very
middle, and no matter where she turned, the walls of rushing air blocked
her.
Faces screamed at her from the wind, howled with frightening voice that
sounded animal in nature.
She could catalog these things in a relatively cold manner: these things
she did not believe as real; they could not hurt her.
She rubbed her eyes, determined to make it go away.
She blinked.
Everything changed.
~~~~~
She screamed.
Oh GOD
No prayers were heard.
There was nothing but nothing.
Emptiness reaching straight into her and ripping out every essence of
herself.
She could not move except when They commanded. Could not breathe until
They gave permission.
She had lost control. She was sacrificing others to the howling mass of
wind, letting them *die* and she could do nothing but scream inside.
Scream into nothing that there was nothing left.
And then there was Agent Mulder.
Her partner. The man she most wanted to trust her.
Horror etched his face. Horror for her acts, for her loss of control.
No prayers were heard, but, Oh GOD, let this stop, let me have control.
She had disappointed him, become the enemy he longed to strangle with
his bare hands.
She had turned against him.
She was the spy.
She was destined to cater to Their agenda. Destined to hide the truth
from him, destined to fail him.
She had failed him.
She screamed.
No prayers were heard.
~~~~~
end
adios
RM
Place for Nightmare II
Not Enough
(1/1)Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
Summary::::POST-Pine Bluff Variant
~~~~~
Not Enough
~~~~~
They've hurt him again.
Somehow, they can always twist his innate goodness into a horrible
weakness, bringing others down with him.
Somehow, they've hurt him again.
I wish I could stop it; I wish I could take him away from all of this
because I know now that it's never going to stop.
They're never going to leave him alone.
Never.
They've hurt him again, and again, I'm here to pick up his pieces,
reassemble them, and hope, pray, plead, for him to find himself.
Find that wellspring of passion that almost runs dry in him, and somehow,
somehow, make it overflow.
I'm sorry, Mulder.
I'm sorry they keep doing this to you.
~~~~~
The room is dark, his blinds closed tightly, shadows setting up camp in
the farthest reaches of the floor.
He is curled on his couch, lips pressed tightly together, eyes squeezed
shut, as if the more withdrawn he appears, the more this can't touch him.
But it has touched him.
Everywhere, the signs of it are on him.
In the way his back hunches slightly as I walk closer, in the lines around
his mouth and eyes as he wishes I would leave, in the flexing of his
fingers as he remembers unconsciously, the feel of a gun.
I slip into his darkness willingly, coming to his couch with some holy
purpose, believing myself to be the good one here, the one that will not
give up, that will keep him going again.
His hand flinches and I watch his white bandaged finger, the way it
twitches at my movement, the tiny cracks of pain streaking his face.
"You need some Advil Mulder," I say, taking his hand gently in mine.
His eyes flicker and he pulls away. This is hurting him, but for some
reason, he's using it as his punishment.
"Why are you hurting yourself, Mulder?"
He shakes his head and closes his eyes.
Suddenly, my courage, my strength and committment falls through and all I
want to do is take him away from this, away from the men who would screw
up his entire life and make him feel responsible for the crap in everyone
else's.
"Mulder, why do you keep letting them do this to you?" I whisper, and
immediately wish I could take back my words.
That wasn't what I meant at all.
He turns his face away, the sudden flash of betrayal making me ache for
him, for me, for what my careless words have done to him.
I soothe his back with a trembling hand, running my fingers along his
spine, hoping to somehow use our unspoken communication to tell him I
didn't mean it.
He pulls away.
It is his betrayal, pain for pain.
I'm not letting him do this to us this time.
"No, Mulder. I need you to stop this," I say softly, and reach once more
for him, taking his shoulders into my arms, hoping that my courage will
last a bit longer.
He jerks up and away from me, then rubs his hands through his hair and
sits up on the couch.
"Scully, I think you should go," he says and his words have no threat in
them, only promise.
I'm not letting this come bewteen us again. It always does. His guilt, my
guilt over not knowing how to deal with his guilt, his pain over pushing
me away when he wants me so much, my pain because I let him flounder, I
let him stay in pain.
I take one hand and bring his knuckles to my lips, then kiss his bandaged
finger with soft, light touches.
"Scully. . . you'd better leave before this goes beyond. . .rational."
I want to slap sense into him, into myself, because even as I agree with
his logical words, even as I nod and think he is right, we are moving
closer, drawing together and hungering.
"I don't want to be rational. They're not rational anymore. They hurt you
for no reason, they set you up to die, and I can't, I won't let this all
go unsaid anymore. Not when the unrational is happening every day.
Happening all the time and it might take you away from me."
I guess this is something he's never even guessed at before.
I hate the men that created him like this, yet I rejoice because this is
the Mulder I love, this is the man that makes me feel needed, special.
"You have to know, Mulder, you have to."
He shakes his head and pulls his hurt hand away from mine, then stands.
"Scully, I don't know what you're talking about."
I stare at him.
He knows what I am saying; he knows exactly what I feel, and he feels the
same.
The same.
And he's denying it. He's refusing to let me do this for him, for us.
I bite my bottom lip, then turn my head away. I hear his soft sigh, the
sound telling me more than anything, that he wants this, wants this and
thinks it's wrong.
I feel my rationality slipping back, just as Mulder knew it would.
I shake my head, then stand up beside him.
Taking one hand, I kiss his fingertips, then release him from my grasp.
I hate how they've hurt him again.
I'm sorry Mulder.
I'm sorry that my love isn't enough.
I turn and walk from his apartment, feeling no warmth, no thought enter
into me.
Only the cold knowledge that I can never be with him, never comfort him,
never give him the absolution he seeks.
I am his guilt, I am his eternal sin.
I'm sorry Mulder.
~~~~~
end
adios
RM
Odd Habits (1/1)
Date: Tue, 23 Jun 1998 00:02:37 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
SPOILER::::REDUX:::::FTF::::(AKA:::THE XF MOVIE):::::
Dedication: This is for Shannon O'Conner and her great stories, no
matter what they're about, she makes it good. This is a first person
just for you.
CONTENT:::::MS/UST/MSR?
Odd Habits
=====
"Keep going, G-woman."
--Mulder, Redux
=====
Because the chill of ice and aliens hasn't worn off yet, I still am
taking long hot baths when I get up and when I get home.
For some reason, the cold has seeped into me.
Coming home today, I decided to take a new shortcut that someone
somewhere was talking about.
Let's just say: bad idea.
I'm never taking off-handed advice again.
I'll stick to the interstate from now on.
It's hot here, but in me, it's not. I had the windows rolled down and
sweat streaming from every pour and no air conditioner on, but I was
still bone deep cold.
I hate this.
And now, standing outside trying to fit the stupid key in the lock, I'm
balancing my coat and briefcase and purse and files and I can't seem to
make the door come-
Open. It's open.
I stumble through and let all my stuff clatter to the floor, not really
caring at this point. I know that when I wake up in the middle of the
night, anxious because it isn't put away, I'll rebuke myself for not
caring, but right now, I just want that hot bath.
I walk through the darkness and past the blinking message light and into
my dimly lit bedroom.
Actually dimly lit is an overstatement. It'a positive cave in here.
After the blinding white of three hours of ice until our rescue, I have
this thing about light.
It bothers me.
I start the water running and come back to my bedroom, twisting the
blinds closed.
I yank off my shirt.
"Are you going to finish it this time?"
I jump and turn around, heart thudding, hand reaching for a gun I
already took off.
"Mulder! What the hell is your fetish with coming in my room in the
dark?"
"Oh. I fell asleep this time."
He comes away from the shadows and draws close, as if he is a vampire
ready to feast.
"In my room, in the dark?"
"I came to your place and I got worried when you didn't answer because I
expected you to be home a lot sooner. So I came in. I guessed you hadn't
gotten in yet, and sat down to wait."
"In my room, in the dark?"
"Well. . . yes."
I gape at him. "What is wrong with you?"
He pulls back. "What do you mean?"
"Mulder, that's not at all the norm. Of course, you're never in the
norm, but this is a little peculiar."
"What do you want me to say? That I enjoy surprising you while you
undress?"
<Yes, but that's also perverted.>
"No, Mulder." I sigh and grab for a T-shirt, realizing with some idiocy
that I am standing here fighting with him in a bra.
Oh well. He had to dress me in Antarctica. Like I really care at this
point.
"Do you want to wait while I take a bath?" I ask, yanking off my pant
suit and smiling a little as his eyes track my legs.
His breath gets fast and I duck my head to meet his eyes.
"Watch where you're looking, mister."
He gives me a sly grin and sinks to my bed. "I can either wait, or take
a bath with you, Agent Scully."
"Tempting, but no thanks. Try the couch. I know you have a special
relationship with those things. Maybe next time it needs cleaning, you
can come over and help even."
He chuckles. "Ooh. You're sassy today."
I shove his stomach in, pushing him aside. "Nope. Just fast."
He leaves my bedroom and I sink gratefully into the bed.
I'm still shaking and I'm glad he didn't notice. I strip off the shirt
and walk into the bathroom, turning off the taps and sliding into the
bubble bath.
Ohhhh........yeah. So nice.
~~~~~
"Scully, you plan on sleeping in the tub?"
I jerk my eyes open to see Mulder crouching beside the bathtub, a glint
of humor and satisfation in his eyes.
I close my eyes again. "If I want to, I will."
"Well, I'm done bonding with your sofa. How about I bond with you now?"
I snort. "Sure. After I have my couch fumigated."
He pouts and dips his hand into the water, pushing aside some bubbles.
My skin crawls as his hands swirl the water.
"Mulder?"
"Yup?"
"What are you doing?"
"Let's see. Testing the water?"
"You're not coming in here."
"Maybe I am."
I glare at him. There is no way I'm letting him get in the bathtub with
me.
"You are so odd, you know that Mulder?"
He tilts his head, eyes wide. "You know what Scully? I think your couch
said the same thing."
I roll my eyes and drift further into the bottom of the bathtub, away
from his fingers.
He puts his whole arm, up to his elbow, into the water, brushing my
thigh as his fingers slide past.
I decide it is better not to comment. I won't encourage him.
Then his other arm.
"What are you doing?"
He smiles a beautific smile that says he's managed to get the little boy
face down pat. He must know the power of his looks.
"I'm dipping my hands in this water."
"And why exactly are you doing this?"
"To watch you squirm."
I huff out a breath and glare at him again.
He laughs. "See? You're beautiful when you're squirming."
"I am not squirming."
He just tilts his head again and watches me.
I want to make *him* squirm.
He pulls his hands out and dries them on my towel, then begins taking
off his shoes and socks.
Soon his feet are in the tub, touching my side.
"Mulder, get your smelly feet out of my bath!"
He just looks at me.
I can feel my jaw work under the skin, and suddenly, I know exaclty how
to turn the tables on him.
"Fine. I'm getting out."
I raise up from the water immediately, stepping out and grabbing the
towel, but not putting it around myself until I'm well imprinted on his
wonderful memory and almost out the door.
I want to laugh at the expression I saw on his face as I got out, but
that would ruin it.
I reach for my shirt and pull it on, then towel dry my hair.
As I turn, strong hands catch me.
"You don't think you can do that and get away with it, do you?"
I make a teasing smile and turn to him, but freeze at the look in his
eyes.
Complete and total fervor burn deep in his eyes and I'm the fuel.
I shut up and stay still.
He pulls my hands from the towel and wraps his arms around me tightly,
crushing my body completely against his. And I'm still wet.
I feel his hands move, glide along my back, across my shoulders, down my
sides and I can't seem to breathe anymore.
I think I'm going to collapse.
He pushes me until my back hits the dresser and then his hands are
roaming everywhere, everywhere, everywhere on me, across hot hot skin,
down damp legs, through tangled hair.
Not once does he kiss me.
I want that so bad, just his lips on mine, finish what we started, end
my dreams of half kisses and bee stings.
He picks me up, pushes me over to the bed and lays me down.
I think my heart has decided to panic while my mind has decided to shut
down.
He winks.
Pulls the covers over me, tucks me in tightly, firmly.
Kisses my forehead.
"Sorry, Scully. Prior engagement with the couch. She gets lonely if I'm
not there."
And then he walks out.
I can hear him getting out the blanket from my closet, moving around on
the cushions, getting settled.
I moan into my pillow.
That man . . . that man . . . I'm either going to go postal on him one
day, or actually take him by surprise and kiss him.
Sighing, resigned, I close my eyes.
Images of Mulder's odd greeting habits flash before me.
I could scream.
Oh yeah, those files are still scattered on the floor.
~~~~~
end
so how was it? hit "reply to"
adios
RM
Title: Odd Habits II
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
see part one
Dedication: This is for Red V and her cohorts in crime, who lovingly
convinced me (on threat of death) to continue this.
Odd Habits
=====
"Marry me."
--Mulder, Chinga
=====
Files.
In my living room floor, waiting to be picked up, put someplace in a
neat, orderly pile, waiting to be noticed again.
It's driving me crazy.
Crazy, crazy, crazy.
I have to go pick them up.
Maybe get back at Mulder too.
I feel my feet hit the floor before I realize I've even decided to go
out there, and my breath comes quick at the thought of him waiting,
waiting, like those files scattered on the floor.
It's dark in the living room. I can hear him breathe.
Slow, heavy breaths with long pauses as he dreams.
I tiptoe to the floor, gathering the files and the papers that have been
spilled from them, wishing I hadn't dropped everything like this.
Dang. I knew I'd hate that I'd done that.
"What are you doing?"
I jerk up, head popping over the couch to see his face, eyes white and
glowing in his skull.
I breathe again. "Uh, picking these up."
"At midnight?"
I frown. "They were bothering me."
"Oh? How's that? I'm in here, not you."
"I could just see them all scattered-"
"Uh-huh. And this keeps you from going to sleep? Tell me, Scully, just
how long have you had this problem and-"
"Shut up, Mulder. I just have to clean this up."
"I believe that's called Obsessive-Compulsive, and Scully, you can get
help for things like that."
"Ha ha. You're funny tonight."
"This morning. It's now morning."
"My bad. Morning. Mind going back to sleep?"
"Mind getting out of my makeshift bedroom?"
"It's my living room."
"Which I happen to be living in."
I stop.
I will not argue stupidly like this with him. I will not.
"Good-night Mulder."
"Good try Scully."
I pause and turn back, dumping the file folders onto a table.
"What do you mean, good try?"
"Getting back at me. It won't work. I'm shock proof."
I raise an eyebrow, standing over him, relishing a challenge.
"Oh really."
"Really. There's nothing you could do that would make me speechless or
frustrated or simply awed. Nothing."
"Nothing, huh?"
I watch his eys smile, his mouth quirk up and for a moment, I think he's
baiting me on purpose, trying to make me do this.
I sit on the couch and push him down, pulling the blanket up to his
chin.
"Well, if my singing didn't shock you, nothing will."
He looks a little disappointed, as if he wanted me to try.
"Scully?"
I nod.
"You could try singing again. See if it works when I'm healthy instead
of impaired."
"Mulder, you're always impaired."
A sigh and he shakes his head. "I was asking for that."
I smile. "Yes you were."
"So, I'll sleep now, if you're done spring cleaning that is."
"Not quite."
He glances over at me. "What else is there?"
I smile and he grows wary.
Leaning over, my face inches from him, I study his eyes.
I think he's just about to panic.
I brush my lips to his, running my tongue across them lightly, like a
feather.
I pull away, stand, do not look at him.
"You seemed a bit dusty." I say and do not turn back.
HA! How's that for speechless?
~~~~~
adios
RM
Title: Odd Habits III
Author: RM>[email protected]<
Disclaimer: see part one
NOTES::::::READ THIS PLEASE::::
Due to the overwhelming amount of email I have received for this series,
I am continuing. (Sp?) So, this is for all of you who have replied and
asked or threatened for me to keep it going. Now, it isn't ever going to
resolve, I hope you realize this.......Also, due to some confusion, I
will set the record straight. I, RocketMan, am a woman. Yes, yes, I
swear. People have been confused online and I am trying to avoid that.
My name is Laura and I am using my Dad's email account. So, from now on,
I will sign RM for my name at all times in the author part. To those of
you archiving, go ahead and archive under RocketMan. If my putting RM
presents a problem for you, email me and I'll stop.
Adios
Odd Habits III
=====
"Must be fate, Mulder. Root Beer."
--Scully
=====
Okay.
So it really wasn't the files scattered on the floor that wouldn't let
me fall alseep.
It must be something else.
Maybe him.
Yeah, it's definitely him.
I'll just turn over on my side and clutch the pillow to me a bit
tighter, pull the covers up a bit more and pretend it just doesn't
matter.
Except that it's now his turn.
His turn.
And that *matters*.
There must be a whole managerie of buterflies in my stomach, flickering
down my legs, across my skin. . . . .
I shake loose the covers and shiver, pushing everything away from me.
Nothing touching, nothing touching.
I think I just whimpered. How pitiful, how utterly idiotic to whimper
because I can feel his hands where the sheets should be.
This is giving me the willies.
I stand and creep to the door, breathing.
Breathing.
I run and jump back in bed.
I can't do this. I can't do this at all.
I squeeze my eyes so tight I can see the rainbows of chemical color on
my eyelids, the bright shots of dazzling yellow and red and green that
scream to the darkness "I am not afraid."
I hear a click and the snick of my door opening.
Oh, no, I'm afraid.
I slam my eyes tighter, then try to relax.
Relax.....hell, that's not happening.
I breathe, breathe, slow it down, breathe.......breathe.......breathe
I have to calm.
My heart stops fluttering like bird wings and I don't hear anything
anymore.
I thought......
Nothing.
Must be my overactive imagination--overactive since he stuck his hands
in my bath and imagination since I first *met* him.
COLD!!!!
His hands.
Oh.....my......gosh.......
What does he think he's doing?
Trailing his hands down my side like that, fignernails lightly skimming
my exposed skin, as if he did it every day.....
Every day......
I shiver despite the intense control I have over myself not to display a
reaction and I hope he hasn't felt it.
No such luck.
A nose, cold and soft, the scout for his lips, his breath, to wind their
way along my arm.
So agonizingly slow......
"Mulder...." My words come out breathless, stilted.
No response.
Just a tongue, flickering like those butterflies. A grin against my
skin.
I open my eyes.
His are closed.
What?
"Mulder?"
I touch his chest and he reels away, falling to the floor.
Watching him sprawl there in a moment of confusion, I simply stare, then
attempt to get down and help him.
"Mulder?"
He's blinking and looking around like he's got no clue where he is.
"Mulder....."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Scully. I must have been sleepwalking. Did I bother you
too much?"
I just look at him.
"Excuse me?"
He shuffles his feet, looking apologetic. "I know. It doesn't happen
very often, but once I ended up in my kitchen, eating a sandwich when I
woke up."
Well, eating is the right word, but I'm no sandwich....
"I'm sorry it woke you up. Go back to sleep Scully."
He turns and makes his way out, guiding himself expertly in the dark.
I can't tell if he really was sleepwalking or not....
Crawling into bed, I glance around. Shadows along the wall from the
trees outside look like witches' claws and pointy hats. The soft shadows
from furniture hide demons and monsters.
I shiver.
There's no way I'm falling asleep, not with the real life monster
outside on my couch.
He **licked** me.
=====
end
adios
RM
Title: Odd Habits IV
Author: RM >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox, each of whom
I hold in dearest respect ever since they admitted M&S lov for each
other in the form of a wide screen movie. Wasn't it so great?
MAJOR US5 SPOILERS
~~~~~
Odd Habits
~~~~~
"Is that official FBI business?"
--Dr. Kurtzweil, FTF
~~~~~
I've forgotten why the hell I let him in here tonight.
Oh yeah, he was already here.
And I let him stay? How crazy is that?
Crazy. We're all going crazy. Crazy since he came to me one night and
said that the only way to find the truth was to make our own lies, lies
that included his own death, my own loss.
Crazy. Definitely crazy.
Crazy for him to come to the hospital and kiss my forehead, my cheek, my
hand. Crazy for him to come with a chip to stick back in me. Crazy for
me to be on a bridge and watch others burn. Crazy for a little boy to be
able to read minds, to read my own flickering love for Mulder. Crazy for
us to try to kiss in his hallway as I cried and as he thought he'd lose
me forever.
I shudder.
We've gone nuts.
And tonight more than proves it.
~~~~~
There are too many shadows now, too many things creeping through the
dark.
Mulder and his shadows, Mulder and his creatures that hide in the light
and eat humans at night.
Yuck.
I just want to go to sleep.
Or maybe not. What I *want* to do would be another one of those crazy
things that just shouldn't be happening anymore. Ever.
It seems my body has decided to take control for the night, because here
I am, at the door, breathing again.
There is silence now.
Silence. Tomb-like, speaking of forever and dirt and buried alive.
Speaking of leaving behind an old, worn-out body for a new, glorified
creation.
I like the second idea much better. Much better.
The door snicks open and creaks lowly as it swings through the darkness
of the hall.
The small things click and scratch like little rat claws, and the big
things hum and groan like old men getting put to bed for the last time.
I step to the first floorboard and hold my breath as it creaks.
Nothing.
I tread lightly down the hall, stopping to watch for ghosts or phantoms
in the mirror, then turn into the living room and my couch.
He's sprawled.
That's the best word for it.
Sprawled. A good word for how Agent Mulder is most of the time. Legs and
arms hanging every which way, mind off on a thousand tangents while I'm
still stuck here, prim and proper and neat and tidy.
His arms are flung up, one leg practically hanging off the back of the
couch, other leg touching the floor. His eyes roll with dreams, his body
shudders in either fear or ecstasy, and his fingers twitch as if he is
touching, touching, touching.
Always he touches.
I slide up to his worn out looking face and peer into his blank, riddled
expression.
His eyes pop open.
I jerk away as he starts up, drawing his body back into some semblance
of order while I try to convince myself that he was *not* simply waiting
for me to come for him.
He was *not.*
"Scully?"
"Yeah."
"What are you doing?"
I glance to him, picking out a convoluted story that would involve
danger and drama and a little bit of coldness, enough to keep him from
asking anything more.
"Well, I-"
"No wait, never mind. I don't want to know."
What a dirty little man.
"Mulder. I was not-"
"No, don't tell me. I don't want to even hear about your sleepwalking or
other such excuse."
"Was sleepwalking an excuse?"
Suddenly he looks trapped.
My mouth drops open and I stare right at him, more turned on than mad,
but I can't let *him* see that.
"You weren't sleepwalking?!"
He chuckles suddenly and yanks me down to sit next to him.
"Hell, no, Scully. You think I'd do that in my sleep?"
"I was hoping.....you did that even in your sleep."
His eyes turn dark and wicked and I suddenly think maybe teasing him
isn't such a good idea. He's not used to this from me.
"Uh..."
"Stay right here, Scully."
"Mulder, maybe I should-"
His hands touch mine, slide right on past my knuckles, to my wrist,
along my arm and skimming my elbow.
It's kind of heady, making me just a bit nauseous and hungry all at the
same time.
"You're staying right here."
I can only nod, let him take back my control, let him decide whatever he
wants to decide, because I don't want to think.
If I started to think, I'd remember how crazy this is.
He gently moves me right next to him, spooning his body around mine,
slipping his hands to my stomach, his chin to my shoulder.
I close my eyes, forget to breathe.
"Scully?"
I think I couldn't answer him, even if I wanted to.
"You do know how much I want you?"
There's no breath, no words, no thought.
There's no reality anymore, no straight lines and places to go.
I shake my head slightly, move to see his face, to know his eyes, know
his features more incredibly in this moment than any other.
As I turn my head, as I move to find him, his hands slide up my sides,
like water fire, along the curve of my breasts and to my face, holding
me.
Holding me.
His lips whisper to mine and meet.
Meet.
I know how much he wants me.
~~~~~
end
adios
RM
am I just killing you?
Title: Odd Habits V
Author: RM >[email protected]<
~~~~~
Odd Habits
~~~~~
"You're my one in five billion."
--Mulder
~~~~~
"I need you, Scully."
Stop, stop stop stop stop stop.......
"Please," stop.
He's too close, too here, too much a part of me.
"Please," stop.
Tell him to stop. Tell him to stop.
His mouth is too agile, his hands too soft, his breath too close.
"Scully, I need you."
"No, no, no. Not like this."
His actions still, his hands freeze to my arms, eyes downcast. He's
still behind me, arms circling me, breathing.
I lift my hand to touch his face, to stroke his cheek, let him know
somehow that I don't want this to hurt him.
A brush of his lips across my fingers and I can't think anymore.
But I feel.
I feel wrong. Wrong for letting him do this. Wrong for allowing this to
keep on. Wrong for not knowing if I truly, truly need him like this.
I want him. No doubt.
Do I need him like this?
His arms draw tight around me, nose pressed into my neck, eyes still far
away from mine.
I want him to understand. Maybe he does.
"Everything will change." I say, dumbly.
He snorts, brings his lips back to my ear, skimming lightly along the
edges.
I feel my throat making noises, my body getting too hot.
"Not right now," I say.
He ignores me again, lets his fingers trail down my arms, then back,
then across the skin of my shoulders. . . forever and ever and ever.
But he's not trying to take my clothes off, he's not trying to get out
of his pants, he's just . . . just . . . seducing me?
"Mulder?"
"Just this, Scully, just tonight."
I want to laugh, cry, beg him not just tonight.
"Not just tonight."
His eyes stray toward mine, his brown-black covered with shine.
"Not just tonight," I repeat softly, echoing my earlier words, needing
him to know that I do, do want him.
I am twisted in front of him, my back pressed to his chest, head turned
to see his face as he says nothing, only moves.
I crawl around until I'm in his lap, curled up tight, closing my eyes
and letting each river of feeling course through me, rapids and currents
and still water all.
My breathing is funny, all fast, then slow, then hitched.
Every place, he knows every sensitive nerve in every part of my skin.
He's always been the one to give, to give and just keep on thinking only
about me, never himself.
"Mulder.....you make me weak...."
His face is surprised, his hands shake a bit and he kisses the top of my
head.
"Why do you say that?" he asks, rubbing his thumbs along my chin and
cheeks.
I smile. "Because you do. I can hardly move."
He tilts his head, looking and thinking and maybe plotting.
"But . . . you don't . . . can't stand to be weak."
I blink, confused. Is he hurt that I said that?
"Not . . . it's okay. I know you're not going to hurt me, to ruin my
career or anything. You know me, Mulder. How more vulnerable to you
could I get?"
His eyebrows twitch and I see that old, sensual look in his eyes again.
I raise my eyebrow, smirking. "And I know you, too, Mulder. So stop
that."
"Hm. Maybe not...."
His nose touches mine, our foreheads together, and he licks his lips.
His tongue is so close, I can almost feel the moisture there.
One little tilt of my head, and he's there, right there where I want him
to be.
I turn, my lips brush his and meet, then glance off. He follows my
retreat and overtakes me, pushing back.
He's not trying for anything more. I guess five years of waiting, of
nothing, speaks of good will power.
Or simply affirms his own wonderfully caring nature.
I want to tell him, reassure him that I love him, but he'd think of it
in the wrong way, and I'm not sure if I mean it like that.
I'd never lie to him about this.
He'd never let me, anyway.
He groans suddenly, hips moving unconsciously, making me bite my lip.
"Mulder . . . I think . . ."
"Okay. I know. Okay."
He stops attacking my mouth and moves away, taking my hand.
I watch him, cautious for that bruised male pride.
He sighs, but dips his body back to the couch, pulling me with him.
I lay next to him, tense and waiting.
"I'm not a bomb, Scully. I'm okay. I won't bite."
I smile, my mouth, curving slightly to see his face.
(I know this was wrong, I know this was being such a tease, but then . .
.)
I take his earlobe with my teeth and then kiss it.
"You can bite," I say.
His arms curl tighter around me and he shakes his head.
"You'd better stop that."
I lay my head back to his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of another
person, of Mulder.
He shifts to give me more room, but I crowd close to him, hoping he'll
understand that I'm not trying to be . . . cold.
I don't want him thinking that ever.
Ever.
His lips land on my cheek. "Good night, Scully."
"Good night."
"Oh, and no more sleepwalking, hunh?"
I smile. "No more."
Not tonight anyway.
~~~~~
end
adios
RM
One-Sipper (1/1)
Hey!
It's the One-Sipper!
All my thanx to Nessie, for coming up with that game. Very mug.
And thanx to Melissa, for actually liking the idea, and the challenge.
I'm looking forward to yours, Meliss!
Author: RocketMan
Oh forget it. Consider it disclaimed.
O'Riley's
11:54 p.m.
"Miss? Miss? You're gonna have to leave now. It's clsoing time." the
bartender said, looking at her strangely.
"Yeah, I know. I'm waiting for my brother. He's driving and he went to
the bathroom a minute ago." Special Agent Dana Scully said.
The man shook his head. "No, ma'am, no one's in there. I just checked
to make sure no one was barfing in my toilets."
Scully frowned. "No. He's in there, you must not have checked very
well."
The bartender knew how to do his job and he didn't need some woman with
a high society air about her telling him that he was wrong. "Ma'am, you
can go check if you like, but no one's there."
Scully did just that and found an empty bathroom. And also found that
her brother's car was gone and she had no way of getting home. Bill had
all the money and the car and she was just a little drunk, so that her
mind was kind of spinning and she couldn't think too clearly and why was
the room shaking just a little?
"Miss? You wanna use the phone to call your brother? Sometimes people
forget things."
"People? You can forget people?" she said, feeling her tongue slide
awkwardly over the roof of her mouth. No, she wasn't calling Bill. That
would be weakness. He had probably left her on purpose, to remind her
how much she needed her family and not Mulder, and she couldn't call him
now, like a lost little girl, sounding stupid because she was a little
bit tipsy....
Mulder. Mulder could come get her. He never slept anyway. And if he even
tried joking about it come Monday, she would ram his ugly tie down his
throat.
Mulder's apartment
12:00 a.m.
Through the light filtering in from the street lamps Mulder's form
looked alien in his bed, a rare change of habit for him. Because his
nightmares had grown to include one of his couch eating him alive, he
had been forced to relocate for the duration; the fear when he woke up
on his couch after such a dream was enough to outwiegh even the best
comfort derived from the green leather couch.
His bedroom consisted of dirty clothes, washed clothes, old case files
that had led to nowhere, posters similiar to the ones in his office and
newspaper clippings of sightings across the globe. He also had hung a
grey alien head he had gotten as a Christmas present from Frohike on his
bedpost. It was propped right next to the flavorless chewing gum that
had managed to devolop life of its own on the bedpost.
His fish, dead about three months, gave the room an odd smell, one
matching the odor in the living room near his other fish tank.
The phone rang shrilly and Mulder jumped in his bed, disoriented for a
moment, and grabbed it before it could throb in his eardrum again.
"Uhh...Mulder."
"It's me. Were you asleep?"
"Depends on how you define sleep."
Scully frowned over the phoneline and Mulder could almost feel it.
"Oh...Um, I was wondering if you could pick me up?" she said, and
wondered if her words had come out the right way.
"Pick up line, or pick up from a place?"
"Place...Uh...O'Riley's"
"Are you drunk!?" he asked increduously.
"NO!" She groaned and he smiled.
"Oh yeah you are!"
"Mulder...just come pick me up."
"Scully, what happened to designated drivers?"
"That's now become you, Mulder, so get over here."
"Yes, ma'am."
She hung up and he laughed in the silence of his room, seeing for the
first time that his fish had died.
The fish's name was Nora, and it was bright green and one of his
favorites. He frowned and tapped the top. Maybe she was just sleeping?
Nope, definitely dead. He'd have to get a replacement.
O'Riley's
12:02 a.m.
"Here you go, miss, just drink this and I'm sure you'll feel better."
came the bartender's voice, gentle now that he could see her so weak and
helpless. She sipped the scalding coffee in gratitude and smiled at him,
glad of the wake-up to her system. The bartender then placed a bowl of
sunflower seeds in front of her. "Eat a few of these. They're supposed
to cure hangovers, or at least not make them so bad."
Scully laughed out loud and thought of all the times she'd seen Mulder
with those seeds. Had he been hung over the entire time?
She ate a few and then rushed to the bathroom, despite the bartender
pleading for her not to throw up in his clean toilets. She did anyway
and made an enemy for life.
She went back to the bar and laid her head down on the smooth wood,
wiped clean by the almost obssessive-compulsive bartender. She closed
her eyes while waiting for Mulder and felt her mind begin to drift. Too
much alcohol always made her sleepy...so sleepy....
Then the door banged open and light poured through, intense bright
white light that pried at her eyelids. The bartender screamed something
about not getting his freshly polished floor dirty and she couldn't hear
past that. Then a woman came to her, dressed Amishly, in a long black,
homespun dress, the collar looking as if it were choking her, and her
feet not even showing. Dana tried to move, to get away because for some
reason the woman was bad and the light was bad, but her fuzzy brain
couldn't process quickly enough. She realized the woman was Marita,
Mulder's contact at the ....the....whatever the hell that place was
called, and that she was pulling her to the light.
She was under the light and trapped in it and she looked up and saw
metal, glowing and shiny and seamless, with lights and windows
interspersed between the birghtness and she realized that it was a
U.F.O. and holy.....
There was a little man, smaller than her, and grey with the same odd
head shape that the people in the leper colony'd had and she was talking
with him, asking him to let her go back and get some more things before
she left, namely Mulder because he would never believe this, never....
Mulder jerked her awake and she screamed. He immediatley pulled her
into his arms, unthinkingly, only knowing that she was frightened and
had screamed for Pete's sake.... and he was holding her, hugging her to
his chest to dispel the bad images and she was about to cry in his arms
because it felt so good to be safe for once....
<Oh.....I'm definitely drunk.>
"Thanks for coming Mulder," she said, her voice a bit muffled. She
pulled back and he gave her a small smile.
"No problem. Nothing I wouldn't do for a beautiful woman." he said and
she had the funny feeling he was drop dead serious.
"So, hot date leave you?"
She slapped him.
He looked at her in utter surprise and said, "What was that for?"
She was drunk, oh she definitely knew it know. "You complimented me one
instant and ... and...and teased me the next. Why should you care why
I'm here?"
Yeah, Mulder thought, she's definitely drunk.
"Maybe because I'm picking you up, that's why I care. I do care about
you Scully." He switches unconsciously to puppy dog face and she melts,
even through the haze of alcohol.
"Sorry......I just.....I don't feel too good." she said and wanted to
fall back in his arms.
"Scully, why don't I just take you back to my place and you can explain
if you want on the way there, okay?"
She nodded, too incredibly sleepy to offer much in the way of protest.
They made it back to his apartment, since it was close to O'Riley's
anyway and he carried her in to his living room, gently depositing her
on the couch. She was fighting sleep and he wasn't helping.
So she told him what had happened, how Bill had left her and she kind
of went off on him for awhile before getting back to her story and when
she finished she was all confused again. It took way too much energy to
speak she realized, but she had to make sure she wasn't inconvienancing
him.
"Mulder, I know you sleep on the couch, so I don't want to impose. I'll
just sit in the chair until I can drive again-"
"Nope, unh-uh. You sleep in my bed and I'll sleep on the couch and I'll
drive you to your house tomorrow morning and we can get your stuff."
She was confused again and he could see it, so he picked her up and
settled her in his bed.
"I didn't realize you had a bedroom, Mulder."she mumbled.
He gave her a quirky look and tucked her in.
Skinner's house
12:23 a.m.
A.D. Skinner felt bad for spying on his agents, but sometimes they did
things he needed to know about and check up on. And Fox Mulder was a
prime example of someone who needed checking up on. So when he heard the
phone ring and then later, Mulder come in with Scully, he had listened
intently, thinking he was finally, horribly, going to catch Mr. and Mrs.
Spooky in the act.
He let out a huge grin of relief when Mulder really did go back to the
couch, leaving Scully alone. Skinner went back to bed and slept soundly.
Mulder's apartment
1:35 a.m.
Mulder screamed and jerked awake only to realize he wasn't awake, his
couch was slowly sucking hm down, eating him alive and he couldn't get
away, he couldn't escape it.
No. No. It was only a dream. His couch was there and being friendly
and.....was that a slight ripple in the green leather? A bit of laughter
at his foolishness? Here he was back on the couch, where it could stick
to him once again, trap him and suck him into its hungry belly.....
Mulder dashed for his bedroom and the comfort of Scully.
She was sitting up, staring at him wild-eyed, as if he was nuts. He
sank to his knees beside her and explained his dream, his limbs still
quaking with the realness it had been to him.
Scully thought he looked like a little boy telling momma all about the
monsters living under his bed. Scully took pity on him and scooted over
to allow him in the bed, his warmth eagerly accepted.
"Mulder," she said, her thinking still screwed by the alcohol. "Maybe
your couch is possessed by demons or something and that's why you're
dreaming about the couch eating you alive."
Mulder looked at her for a moment and then felt her forehead. She had a
fever alright. He sighed and realized it was only the drunkeness
talking. But he snuggled closer to her and wrapped his arms around her
waist.
"Thanks, Scully." he whispered.
She was already asleep again.
Wasn't that great? And totally out of character?
Here's the qualifications in order of appearance. (I'm stretching some
things a bit to fit. Please consider the grey alien as a person smaller
than Scully.=-)
1. Scully gets drunk
2.We see Mulder asleep.
3. We see Mulder's bedroom.
4. We see Mulder's fish. (Nora!)
5. Scully eats sunflower seeds.
6. Scully laughs out loud. (Actually you may have to switch 5&6)
7. Uniblonder wears something completely conservative.
8. Scully sees a U.F.O.
9. Scully speaks to adult shorter than her. (Alien was an adult.)
10. Scully screams.
11. Mulder hugs Scully in a public place.
12. Mulder comments on Scully's appearance.
13. Scully slaps Mulder.
14. Mulder shows good taste in women. (He got Scully didn't he?)
15. Skinner smiles.
16. Scully had paranormal theory.
17. Mulder and Scully sleep together. (Totally platonic, I know, but all
my XF instincts were screaming at me already for writing humor, and I
couldn't ignore them when it came to that. Sorry.)
Adios
RocketMan
So who's doing Two-Sipper?
Opening--Chapter One
Date: Fri, 17 Jul 1998 21:13:15 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
Summary: Journeys unfold and lives are risked as Scully discovers her
own personal truth.
SPOILER: FTF, the movie, some spoilers, not really directly involved,
just after it
WARNING: Eventual MSR, character separation, questionable
characterization
Notes: This will be a long one, hopefully. Scully may be different to
you, because I have her acting on her own, without Mulder, so you might
not like her at first. I do promise to keep it within the realm though.
Read on.
Thanks to Ivy for finding the poem. Dedication also goes to Deb, who
encourages me to find my own truths, and to Nell, Gary, Mike, Georgia,
Nicole, and Shane Smith in Independence, Belize, for showing me the
power of love.
~~~~~
Opening
~~~~~
"I who did not die, who am still living,
still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,
clenching and opening one small hand."
--"Making A Fist" Naomi Shihab Nye
~~~~~
~~~~~
In the End
~~~~~
She walks in and sits down on my couch without even looking to the shock
and the horror and the relief on my face.
She walked back into my life without so much as an explanation and all I
can do is wish she would stand up and look at me.
I come to sit next to her immediately, hearing nothing but my own
heartbeat loudly thumping in my ears, and knowing only that she is back.
She's back.
I grab her roughly and shake her.
I yell.
"Why the hell did you leave me?"
~~~~~
In the Beginning
~~~~~
"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. . .And God saw
that it was good."
I glanced up at Scully, raising my eyebrows at her spontaneous sermon.
She looked thoughtful as she turned to me. "When did it stop being
good?"
I grinned a bit. Too good to pass up.
"Probably when the woman tricked all of creation into rebellion agaisnt
God by eating a stupid piece of fruit."
She glared at me and shook her head, as if dismissing me. I knew she
wanted to talk about something, but I guess I was too scared to really
let her start.
Something was eating her up inside, but I didn't know how to stop it, or
how to let her talk about it.
I just didn't want anything more to go wrong. After Antarctica and
deadly bees, I just wanted some normalcy, some silly X-File that
demanded our attention, but turned out to be as harmless as those
vampires in the trailer park with their false teeth and scared nature.
She stood and walked to the file cabinet, psuhing back in a file I had
asked her to read over for me. I supposed she was getting depressed over
the cruelty of it, and wanted to talk about the 'plight of humanity' or
something.
"I think there are still some good things, Scully."
She looked to me gratefully, her eyes turned on again, as if there was a
light behind them that dimmed or brightened based on her emotions.
"I have trouble finding them sometimes," she replied.
"The work we do here is good, Scully. It saves lives, saves families,
saves happiness and love and grace."
She sat down in my chair and I sank to the top of my desk, wishing I
knew where to take this converstaion, wishing I knew what she needed to
hear from me.
"It is good. But it's never enough."
What was she saying? That a hole had opened in her life? That she needed
more than just this?
"How's it not enough, Scully?"
She must have sensed the rising panic in me because she put her hand out
and touched my arm, looking righ into me with her far away eyes.
"It's good, Mulder. But sometimes I have to do things that aren't good.
That go against me and who I think I am. And after those times, I'm not
good."
"But Scully, the things you do are always for a good reason though. I
know that."
I wanted to help her, I wanted to show her she meant too much in the
grand scheme of things to let go now. She made a difference for the
good.
"Maybe. I just feel wrong."
"Right now?"
She nodded and crossed her arms. "I can feel something is about to
happen, Mulder."
I knew then that something was wrong, really wrong for her to say
something so intangible as that and mean it. Scully was not a feeling
kind of person, more of a concrete evidence type.
"What do you mean?"
"Something bad. And it's big and going to change everything."
I shuddered.
Big.
Change.
I hated to even think about what could happen next, to think that maybe
she would be snatched from me by Death's sarcastic grin of triumph.
I stood and went to my chair, sat down on my haunches and looked
straight into her eyes with all the strength and courage I could find in
me.
"I won't let it hurt you, Scully. Whatever happens, you're good for me
and I'm not letting soemthing bad get you."
She sort of smiled and took my hand and the surreal nature of it all
caught up to me and I laughed.
"Nothing'll happen. Let's go get some dinner and I'll drive you home."
She stood and seemed to be broken of the spell. I followed her out of
the office, locking it behind me.
~~~~~
Descending the steps and coming around the corner, I noticed the faint
smell of Something Wrong.
I can always tell when Something's Wrong.
It smells like fear.
My own. Scully's. Other people's.
I ran to the office, only to stop dead on as I saw it.
The door was wide open, smashed in with a strong, determined force. The
lock was wasted, totally blown, but I could see only calm inside.
I went in and surveyed the naturally ruffled appearance of our office,
the new photos tacked to new walls, the two desks with their sparse
smattering of supplies, the slide projector, and the one file cabinet
that housed recovered files we had scrounged up after the fire.
"Scully?"
My voice echoed in the silence of the office and I went to the file
cabinet, checking the precious ones we had left.
They were full. Or as full as they were supposed to be.
I walked to my desk and rifled through it for a moment, finding only
some sunflower seeds missing, but I thought maybe I took those home last
night.
I went to Scully's desk and wondered if I would even know if something
was missing.
There was a single white sheet of paper balanced against her coffee cup.
<Ransom note>
It was the first thought in my head.
I picked up a pencil and used the eraser to open it.
Written words in her hand spiraled at me and and I slumped to her desk
chair, shaking.
<Mulder,
Sorry for the door. Couldn't wait. Took yesterday's file.
I have to make things good again. Don't come.
Scully>
I couldn't breathe.
Couldn't imagine her ever doing this to me, ever doing this period.
She left.
Left. Didn't want me to follow her. Busted down the door so she'd get
away faster without even having to say good-bye face to face.
I stood.
Walked numbly to my desk.
Sat down heavily.
Opened a file.
Tried to forget.
<Don't come.>
~~~~~
At night, I couldn't breathe right.
I grabbed the blanket and pushed it down, then over my head, then to the
floor, and I couldn't seem to get it right. It was like I was
concentrating too hard on the act of breathing that I coulnd't do it
right.
I had to take my mind of the breath, the in and out of it, the conscious
fact that I still lived while I didn't know if Scully did, and pretend
not to notice.
Pretend she hadn't left.
Pretend that breathing didn't matter.
I could hear buzzes in my ears and the sound of blood rushing in my
veins like trains in the dead of night.
I wanted to stop thinking, stop feeling, stop remembering her words
written on a square sheet of ripped paper.
Don't come.
Like bullets into me. Like snake teeth ripping through my skin. Like
hearing your one in five billion say : Don't come.
Don't come.
I wanted to say: To hell with you Scully!
I wanted to say: I'm in hell without you Scully.
I wanted to say: Where in hell are you Scully?
But I laid on my couch and thought up good excuses to tell Skinner when
I had to explain her sudden leave of absence.
She was me, I was her.
She had split, I was left saving her butt so that she didn't get fired.
It was strange, it was new, it was awful.
I'd been given a taste of my own medicine, and I swore to never force
her to choke it down again.
Waiting is hell.
Waiting is agony.
<Don't come> screams at me from my walls, leaks from my ears, tumbles
through my apartment like John Denver's crazy ball of war.*
I closed my eyes, screamed at my breathing, then held my breath until I
could feel hot whiteness shatter over me.
I blacked out.
~~~~~
end of chapter one
adios
In Him
RM
*The reference to John Denver's ball of war is a sort of poem/story he
says on his album "Poems, Prayers, and Promises" that talks about a box
all tightly bound and shut up that is labeled War. Someone opens the box
and this ball comes bouncing all about, hitting woman and children and
more, this deadly little ball called war. It's really rather a good
story.
Title: Opening--Chapter Two
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully (even in this odd form) belong to CC,
1013, and Fox. No fringe is intended.
see chapter one for other
~~~~~
Opening
~~~~~
"Opening for you
a violet
to discover the perfume
of a secret woman
this life
rejoices in the follower
exalts the man
that comes with me."
--"Opening" Laura Bontrager
~~~~~
I couldn't sleep all night.
Once I passed out, I woke again to find my darkness had come and left me
gifts at my door.
I couldn't stop thinking about her. About the words, "Don't come."
About her flight. Why did she run from me? What have I done to her?
If I couldn't run after her, maybe I could help her anyway.
I rose from the couch, slipped down the side of the wall until my toe
stubbed on the computer desk. The light blinked as I powered it up, and
the faint whir of the fan started, sounding loud and angry in the night.
I called up my files, the copies of what we had now, the one of many
copies we had now. I wasn't taking the chance of having everything
destroyed all over again.
I skimmed the list, clicked on the one labeled correctly and tried to
recall its details as it came up for me.
A woman.
Twenty men murdered.
She couldn't be proven guilty of the crime even with her confession. The
medical examiner couldn't even decide what the cause of death had been,
only that the heart had just given out.
Devout Catholics. . . maybe that held the interest.
I read over the report again, found the mental pictures I'd fashioned
when reading it, thought again about the importance of such a case. The
parents of the womann accused had called the FBI to help them out,
convinced as they were that their daughter could never have killed
twenty men.
Being strange and a little less pressing than other cases, it had gotten
booted directly to our basement office.
Still the basement after all.
What had she seen in this case that made her want it, made her question
good and evil?
Made her question us?
I shook my head, grabbed for some paper and jammed it in the printer.
As the sheets drifted cleanly from the laser jet printer, the expensive,
government paid printer, I remembered her face as she read this case, as
I told her it probably didn't merit our time.
Horror.
Complete and utter horror.
I'd forgotten that until just now. I remembered the way she turned to
me, her eyes dark and liquidy, almost like she would cry.
I remembered it almost frightened me.
And then I had laughed it off, told her it didn't matter.
It mattered to her; I could see that now. Something about the woman,
something about this case, mattered very much to her.
I scooped up the papers and turned off everything.
On my couch again, coffee burning one hand and the case burning the
other, I read over the details, the little things I had simply scanned
before.
All twenty men were known to be abusive, cheating, lying SOB's
basically. All the families of the twenty men hadn't wanted to press
charges, but the state of Mississippi had. All twenty men had been
arrested before for beating their wives or children, or some dog
somewhere.
All twenty men were lowlifes.
I shuddered.
It was wrong for them to be killed by the hand of man, but their deaths
weren't mourned.
One of the men had been this woman's husband.
I reread her stats again, letting her name drip from my mind, her
existence permeate my every inch.
Becca Jackson, married for two years to Bob Jackson, a drunkard and
adulterer. She was twenty, almost twenty-one, and appreciated simple
things like family and making dinner.
Her husband was a Baptist, and had converted her from her previous
Catholicism. Half the other victims were Catholic, half Protestant.
No real method to the madness.
What had Scully seen here that I just didn't?
I wanted to understand this, I wanted to understand her.
I wanted to know her mind, her thoughts, her reasons and motives and
deep desires. I needed to know. I needed to believe that she needed me
as much as I needed her.
She never said she did.
I said I did. I know I do. She never said . . . never said anything.
If I figured this out, if I could come to her with understanding, she'll
see, she'll know how much . . .
How much she does need me . . .
~~~~~
In the End . . . Scully
~~~~~
I walk into his apartment and sit down, wondering if he knows, if he
could possible understand.
I hope he understands. I hope he's got this all figured out.
Because I don't. I have no idea why I felt like I had to do this.
Mulder knows me better than anyone. Knows me inside and out.
Sometimes.
And I pray he understands this, because it's scaring me to death.
Come on Mulder, give me a good reason, explain it all to me.
I need you.
He sits next to me, quiet, unmoving.
She suddenly grabs me, shakes as hard as he can.
"Why the hell did you leave me, Scully?"
I can't look at him.
I cry hot hot tears.
~~~~~
In the Beginning. . . Scully
~~~~~
Mississippi was humid, hot and sticky and full of breeding mosquitos and
full of simply breeding.
Humans, dogs, whatever.
I guess it was all there was to do in the winter and now, it was coming
to fruit in the summer.
Made for some moody woman, and some irritated men.
And whiny kids.
I walked through the little town, walked right past the ice cream store,
bursting with little hands wanting more, walked past the gas station
checker players with their cheap ball caps spelling out "Eat at Joe's"
in once white faded paint.
Everything was the same as it had always been. Small Southern towns
don't change much. I remembered that from the Navy base we'd been sent
to once, in Mississippi by the Gulf. A small little town that didn't
exactly thrive, simply meandered through life on an economy based on the
Navy business.
I watched three little boys chase a dog through the Super Wal-Mart
parking lot, their sticks beating the ground and never the animal, only
scaring him a bit, or maybe having fun. I could lay heavy bets that this
happened regularly in the summer, when the kids were out and bored and
waiting for something to do.
I came full circle back to the rental car, slid inside, and sort of laid
my head against the steering wheel, praying I guess.
I wasn't sure why the hell I had just done all that.
Broken into our office, stolen one of the files, run like crazy away
from him.
I was afraid. I knew that.
Of what? Of the things happening between us, the small changes that
seemed ready to explode in my face?
No, I wasn't afraid of that. Mulder and I are great together, too great
together to let anything like romance or even lust get in our way. So
maybe we have something, maybe we don't.
It wouldn't change much of anything.
But something else was changing, shaping up into something I can't even
begin to understand.
I was changing. I didn't want that at all.
If I changed . . . what did Mulder have anymore? What did *I* have
aymore?
Memories of how things were, of what we could have been together. Not
together like a couple, but together like a good team.
Whatever had happened to Becca Jackson had been happening to me.
She'd killed to stop it.
She had changed just as I was now changing.
How did she stop it? Did she even try?
Would I kill to stop it?
I shuddered and started the car, the directions to her house clutched in
one hand and my own written words clutched in my mind.
<Don't come.>
I had meant it. It wasn't safe for him. Becca obviously didn't like
abusive men.
Mulder could sometimes be like that.
But it wasn't safe for me either.
I could sometimes be like that.
~~~~~
"Look. Ms. Scully-"
"Call me Dana."
She sighed. "Dana. I confessed. I must have done it. There's no other
explanation. I feel bad that I caused this. But I'm not going to jail."
"I'm not here to try to send you to jail," I tried to speak softly,
reassuringly.
"Then what are you doing?"
I didn't know myself.
"Just trying to find the truth."
"Here's the truth. I married Robert because I was pregnant. He hit me.
The baby died and I hated him. That's the short story, okay? The long
story is, I tried to love him because this was my one shot. I'm a firm
believer in the Bible, Ms. Scully, and I was going to make this work.
Robert didn't want this to work."
"He didn't want your marriage to work?"
"No. He wanted out as soon as I miscarried. I told him no way. I told
him why. I think it was the only reason he slept with that woman."
"Why's that?"
Becca blinked and looked at me strangely, her eyes so brown and dark,
and her hair reddish brown with the sun.
She almost reminded me of Mulder. Mysterious at times, above the world
in thinking and attitude.
"Why's that, Becca? Why do you think he'd cheat on you?"
"So I'd have a reasonable excuse for a divorce."
"Divorce?"
"In the Bible, it says let no man tear assunder what God has rendered
one, unless there is intances of adultery."
"So he cheated on you simply to let you get out of marriage?"
Becca blushed and hid her eyes. "I'd like to think that, hunh?"
I softened and stopped pressing it. She needed to make herself feel
better about him.
"How'd he die, Becca?"
"The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective."
"What's that?"
"James 5:16. I learned it as a little girl. I believed it. I believe it
now."
"Are you telling me you prayed for this?" I said, my eyebrows lifting
high and in much speculation.
She prayed for the man to die?
"I didn't pray for him to die, Ms. Scully."
"Then what?"
"I prayed that God would take care of me, that God would keep me safe."
"Did you feel threatened?"
"Yes. Robert wasn't exactly a saint. Like I said, our baby died because
of his abuse."
"Did you let it happen, Becca?"
I thought I'd hit it right then. That was where her guilt was coming
from. She felt she had somehow allowed the baby to die, therefore
getting her out of a nasty situation.
"Look. I was a moody kid. I was eighteen and thought I was in love with
Robert, I was in love with him actually. I didn't know he was like that.
The first time he hit me, I thought it was an accident. The next time I
thought he was joking around. The third and fourth and fifth times I
cried for what I had gotten myself into. I asked God to save me. I asked
Him and He heard me. So maybe it is my fault my baby's dead, and maybe
it is my fault that Robert's dead. All I know, Ms. Scully, is that my
baby is a lot better off, and I'm a lot better off."
I stared at her, watching her lips quiver and her whole face alight with
her pain. She was trying very hard to cope with this, to reconcile
herself to the possibility that her child was dead because of her
prayer.
"Do you think prayer is like that, Becca? Do you think God is like
that?"
She looked at me and her eyes were wide, dark, swirling in her own
private hell.
"I think God's powerful. I think people forget that. I think most people
have skimmed over the gory details of God."
"What are the gory details of God?"
"He killed a man for trying to save the Ark of the Covenant because he
touched it. He struck down a couple for lying to the church. He burned a
city that held women and children who didn't know any better. He turned
Lot's wife to a pillar of salt because she looked back. Ms. Scully,
God's big; I'm not. I'm not looking back, understand?"
I breathed out, slowly, thinking.
She seemed convinced of her faith, of her God. Was that my God too?
Was I changing into a woman who believed like that? Not simply about
God, but about the way things were?
I had one shot. She had one shot.
"Ms. Scully?"
I looked to her, surprised at how timid she now seemed. I remembered she
was only twenty, only a child really.
"Yeah?" I said, taking a better look at her.
"The other men that died-they were all bad, you know? I prayed that the
bad men would all go away, and they did. I prayed that I would be saved
from the situation I was in, and I was. But people died. A little baby
died. Do you think I should stop praying?"
I didn't know what to say to her. She was afraid of herself, of her God,
and I didn't know how to reassure her.
I didn't even know why I was there.
Only that I was finding my faith again, little by little, and she had
hers solid and strong.
And that she had changed, as had I.
"I don't know, Becca. I don't think you should stop praying. But maybe
you should refigure what your God is. Maybe He's really not like that."
"But if this is happening, He must be."
I shook my head. "I don't know what to tell you. If these men died
because God wanted them to, then there's nothing we can say about it,
you know? God takes people all the time."
Becca nodded and stood up, her long limbs gracefully unfolding.
Opening like a flower.
I didn't know what I was doing this for, I didn't know why I had come
all this way, but something in me was answered, something in me had
changed.
For the good.
Maybe God had used me to help this woman come to terms with everything.
Maybe God had used this woman to help me come to terms with everything.
"Becca?"
She stopped at the door, her hand on it ready to let me out.
"Yeah?"
"Did you ever feel completely hopeless?"
Why had I asked that?
"Hopeless? Yes. I still do. There were only two things in my life and
that was my family and my God. And I don't have one, and I'm not sure
about the other."
I gave her a sad smile, letting her see that I was satisfied, that I
would not be coming back to hurt her more.
As I walked down the front lawn, I heard the door open again.
"Oh, wait! Dana!"
I turned, surprised she had used my name, and saw her there, in the
doorway.
"Look. I have to tell you this. Things are rough. A lot of times, life's
awful. But there are things and there are people that make it worth it,
make it good. My parents made it worth it to me for a long time. Then
Robert and the baby. I don't have that anymore. I barely even have my
parents. I guess what I'm trying to say is . . . don't forget the people
that make this worth it."
I stood in the green grass, summer licking at my body with heat and
cascading down with sweat, and I couldn't see past her face, couldn't
look beyond that moment.
>From now on, her life would be ruined. She might build it back, but
she'd always be watching herself, always wondering if the strange power
of prayer would kill something else. She'd had it bad with Robert, but
if she had just gotten out, gotten safe, she'd still have some things.
Her God, her baby, her life.
I slowly got back in my car, buckled my seat belt, and looked at myself
in the rearview mirror.
My eyes were afraid, my body tired, my hair dry and guilty.
At that moment I wanted to go home. I wanted to go back to my office and
put the file back and fix the broken lock and then, then, go to Mulder.
Where it was good.
~~~~~
end chapter two
adios
In Him
RM
Title: Opening--Chapter Three
Author: RM >[email protected]<
Disclaimer and other in chapter one
~~~~~
Opening
~~~~~
"we sat stiffly
although the barren moon
climbed her wrinkled fingers
through our wind-tangled hair
and breath was death . . ."
--"stargazing" Laura Bontrager
~~~~~
I sat in the car for an hour wishing I could leave and wishing I hadn't
come, but never found the energy to pick up my hand and turn the keys
and get out.
Things crushed me from the inside out.
The feel of family and the feel of death hovered near by and all I knew
was that I didn't have that sense of security in life that I wanted.
I had beaten death so many times that death was numb to me . . . or I
was numb to it.
And it wasn't death that frightened me anymore.
It was the not living and yet breathing and driving to work and seeing
Mulder and solving cases and still . . . still not living.
It's what I had been all along. All along.
Nothing was good. Work was work. Sleeping was sleeping. Love was
nothing.
Family was nothing. Family was even bad, a hurtful reminder that I would
never be the one to hold a grandchild for my mother, never be the one to
ever feel a part of a family again. My family was half dead.
I was half dead.
But something had told me that I needed to find out where the good in me
had gone to. Something had pushed me to talk to this woman, to
understand why her prayer, why her desperate plea to God, had ended so
badly.
Ended without goodness anymore.
I had heard as a child a simple memory verse over and over, one that
stuck because it seemed so right and so loving a thing.
All things work for the good of those that love Him.
Back then, it seemed true.
Two years ago, three, it was hell no.
It almost never did. That was in the Bible, and I thought it should be
right, it should be true because the Bible was always true. Right then,
I thought it never would be good.
Until I realized the words didn't say that everything would be good.
It said that in the *end*, things would be good.
In the end.
When I died.
It seemed to be almost a trick. A sneaky God thing to do.
I'd missed all the gory details of God.
It wasn't even that anymore. I'd missed alot of things. I'd missed how
it feels to wake in the morning and know that I was allowed to have
breath; missed the knowledge that life was over too fast and I still had
mine; missed the immortality felt by a child surrounded with love.
I had goodness in my life.
I had just taken it at all for granted so much that I couldn't see it
anymore.
Things always had to be black and white for me. Either good or evil,
right or wrong, heads or tails.
Mysteries are things I can't accept because they don't fall into any
catagory.
God was a mystery, love was a mystery, Mulder was a mystery.
Mulder had hit me hard when he classified us as unclassifiable, not
easily referenced. I wanted something easily referenced with us, I
wanted something I could look at and say without a doubt, that it was
good.
In the beginning, God saw things were good.
In the beginning, so did I.
Maybe Mulder did too.
I thought in that car, and watched parents wheel their kids to the
sidewalk and run behind them as they tottered on training-wheel-free
bikes, and saw dogs get a healthy paced walk around the block, and some
mothers call out that it was too dark to play anymore, and watched as
lights flickered from television sets.
I watched life play out like Shakespeare's stage analogy and waited for
that something in me to kick in and make me move.
All I could do was look at it all and think quite surprisingly--
I don't want this.
I don't want to call out to three little boys of mine that they'd better
come inside Right Now, and I didn't want to set off down the block in
Walkman and Reeboks jogging an overgrown puppy, and I didn't want a
husband pulling into the driveway after a long day at the office with a
scowl of misery on his face.
I wanted my unclassifiable, not easily referenced, sometimes good,
sometimes bad, never defined relationship with a man who thought aliens
were out to get us, who had treked across a frozen wasteland to give me
an injection from a man he didn't trust - all because he *couldn't do it
without me.*
I wanted that.
I laughed.
Smiled.
Wished I had figured this out in my nice warm apartment with strains of
Bach to keep me company and my telephone right there when I had this
urge to call Mulder and laugh.
I started the car and turned off the street and onto the highway and
thought only about getting home.
Getting back to excitement and living and mutants and aliens and
informers and most of all, Mulder.
Mulder.
No matter what we were or would be or had.
Mulder.
And I looked at it all, from beginning to end, and I saw that it was
good.
~~~~~
In the End . . . Mulder
~~~~~
She laughs at me.
Takes my hands and squeezes them so hard that I think she'll actually
break some bones.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why. I don't even know how to explain it, or
even what I figured out that made me come back."
She's got to be nuts.
"Scully, are you sick?"
I raise my hand to her forehead and check for a fever as she smiles
broadly.
This isn't my Scully at all.
Although, the way she's beaming at me, the way she's looking me over, I
could get to like this Scully real quick.
Real quick.
"Mulder, I . . . well, I had to sort of think. But I didn't even know I
had to think, otherwise I probably would have stayed at home."
Is she rambling?
"But anyway, I went to talk to-"
"Yeah. About her husband's death? And the other nineteen?"
"Yeah, and she told me the whole thing, about her prayers and the power
and I sort of got on this tangent and I-"
"Scully."
"Hunh?"
"Breathe."
She seems puzzled for a moment, then gives me a grin.
"Yeah. I'm different Mulder. I don't know what happened, but what was in
that file . . . what it said about her and how it had happened. . . it
hurt. I don't know why, but it did. And I had to fix it."
"That's the doctor in you, Scully. When those urges come up, let me know
and I'll try and break a finger or something."
Her grins have got to be lighting up the world by now.
She's not even too mad that I joked around instead of really listening.
"So I left. I talked to her. I found something that made me put a lot of
this behind me."
"A lot of what behind you?"
What was she talking about? What did a woman's prayer have anything to
do with what we'd been through in the last few months?
"Us."
"Oh. So I'm behind you now?"
Is she trying to tell me she's quitting again? Whatever happened to "If
I quit now, they win?"
Well, there's that same look as when she said it. That smug,
I'm-throwing-your-words-back-in-your-face-to-prove-a-point look.
"No. You could never be behind me. You know what I mean."
I shake my head. I truly have no clue. She's so way off this time, that
I don't even think *she* knows what she's talking about anymore.
"Just that we've been tested a lot, Mulder. Our trust and faith and love
has been screwed over by so many people and so many things, that I was .
. . insecure, I guess."
I raise my eyebrow. "Insecure? After everything we did, everything I did
and said to you, you still didn't know?"
I can't believe this. She's . . .she's nuts. She's so -
"Mulder. Not about you. About me."
"So what are you telling me, cause frankly, I am truly and completely
lost and I have no clue how to even start to make you understand what
you mean to me."
I gaze at her helplessly, the only words in my head are the ones
"insecure" and "love" and all I can think is that I should have kissed
her before that stupid bee. Or even after.
Even if she was gasping for breath and trying to relate to me her
symptoms.
She shakes her head.
"Just know this. I'm here. I'm not ever leaving. You're good for me."
I sag down to the cushions of my couch, closing my eyes and forgetting
everything for just one moment.
She said it. She said it back. It's almost better than hearing I love
you back.
Then my usual personality kicks in.
I wink at her. "I'm only good for *you*, Scully. I give everyone else
hell."
She smiles and shakes her head. "I think I'm going home, Mulder. I need
to get to bed."
"You are home," I say softly, maybe hoping she'll hear me and mostly
hoping she won't.
She turns back, eyes bright, lips parted as if she was about to say
something more.
"Yeah. I am. Thank you."
She leans forward and snags my mouth with her light light brush of lips.
She's somehow shown me so much of her this night, and here's even more.
Even more she gives me, even more she lets me take.
~~~~~
In the End . . . Scully
~~~~~
The world still hasn't come into focus.
It's me and Mulder and being home again.
I want to sleep, to let my body relax into the pleasure of darkness and
warm fingers, but it's still too new, too fresh and *good* to let go of
wakefulness.
His arms are tight around me, his face snug into my cheek, almost like
he wants to pull me inside of himself, he's so close.
My eyes are closed.
But I'm open to him. I have nothing hidden from him anymore. He knows my
love, he knows my fear, he knows that it's him I want.
My mother always said that some girls were late bloomers.
My flower has just opened, spread its petals and let him smell and touch
the goodness. The opening was hard, the growing was a struggle, and I
don't think I'm all the way fully stretched toward the sun, but I am
here.
I am here.
And he's right here with me.
No matter what happens, no matter how we travel, what road this takes
us, or where we end up, I have him.
All things are working for the good because I love Mulder.
It's not black and white and it hasn't been something we've shouted,
yelled, explained or even really said, but it's there and it's right and
it's ours.
It's here in all the little gory details, and in all the good.
Now why in hell did it take me so long to figure out?
~~~~~
end all
adios
In Him
RM
Ordinary (1/1)
Date: Thu, 02 Jul 1998 00:45:00 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
SPOILER : : : : : THE MOVIE : : : : : US5 (This is post "the movie" fic,
but does not directly deal with the events therein)
Summary: One agent has a sunburn, the other a hospital visit.
Dedicated to Abby, who told me she would be tickled if I wrote this. Are
you laughing yet, babe?
~~~~~
Oridnary
~~~~~
It was a strange kind of heat to be coming from her body like this.
She pressed her palm flat against her shoulder again, giving the
sunburned area a much needed relief as the cool of her hand met the fire
of her skin.
Their stakeout job in Florida was nice at first, a good break from the
X-Files, on a direct order from Skinner to take on some normal cases so
that they wouldn't attract a lot of attention in the beginning.
But lying on the beach in the sun made her sleepy, and their suspect was
a major beach bum.
He would get up at nine, wash his car, drive down to the beach, sack out
for three hours, take a long walk, then reclaim his spot and soak up
more cancer causing ultraviolet rays.
Of course, with Mulder being only antsy in the sun and his eyes watching
everything, most of all her in a swimsuit, she kind of fell alseep a
lot.
She had thought it would be great at first, give her cancer ravaged skin
a little color and allow her to get as close to a vacation as she had
been in a long time. Maine had been no vacation, and here they were,
together, on the beach, doing practically nothing.
But coming home after the week of sun left her burnt everywhere.
Her shoulders were like hot water bottles, her face scalded, her legs
too sore and pained to even touch, her back simply blistered everywhere,
and her feet, yes, feet, were sensitive and peeling.
She felt like one huge flame of fire was licking at her insides
constantly.
She wondered if Mulder was burned.
With his wonderful luck, probably not.
She shifted a bit in her bed, trying to find a spot on her sheets that
hadn't been heated to uncomfortable temperatures by her skin, and let
out a little hiss as her back met the scratchy material of her shirt.
She gingerly pulled off her shirt, lying only in underwear and her bra
part way on, the straps slipped off her shoulders and the clasp undone
in the back.
She felt so hot. So achy hot everywhere.
It was horrid. It was depressing. It was so freaking hot.
She closed her eyes, placed the back of her hand to her forehead,
sighing with the wonderful relief, knowing she could get up and run
water over a washcloth and be a lot better off, but in too much pain to
even move.
She heard a knock on her door and prayed whoever it was would go away.
Then the door opened.
Another sigh escaped her lips. It had to be Mulder.
"Scully?"
It had to be Mulder. . . had to be him of all times, to come walking in
her apartment, actually wondering about her for once.
"Scully?"
"I'm in my room, Mulder. You may not want-"
And of course, it was too late. Of course he was already standing in her
doorway, his mouth dropped to the floor, his eyes roving her almost nude
body, his hands making fists at his side.
"Ah . . ah. . .Hot, Scully?" he said, meakly trying to joke his way out
of embarassment.
She sighed and closed her eyes again. "I'm not going to get dressed,
Mulder. I am sunburned everywhere. I don't care anymore."
"It's not like I haven't seen it before." he said quickly, as if trying
to reassure her.
Her eyes shot open again.
"Oh right, Antarctica. . . I'd actually forgotten."
He kind of stood there then sighed. "Actually, this really doesn't
bother me, so I might as well sit down."
She watched him sit on the bed, spreading his arms out to support
himself and turning to look at her.
"So, hurt?" he asked.
"Like I've been boiled alive."
A wince from him made her smile a little.
"That's great, Scully. Next time we go to Florida, we're sticking to the
woods."
She sighed. "Being burned is better than you getting attacked by that .
. . whatever it was. Better than a stupid conference with a tower of
furniture."
He chuckled, placed a hand to her forehead. "Yeah, you're delirious. I
knew it."
She closed her eyes again and he attempted to pull his hand away. She
caught it instead and shook her head.
"Stay right there. Your hand is nice and cool."
He smiled but did not pull his hand away. "I'll get you a washcloth,
Scully."
She saw his eyes flicker over the rest of her bright red body.
"Actually, I'll just soak a whole towel and lay it over you."
She smiled knowingly, giving him a rare glimpse at her beautiful grin.
"I thought you said this wasn't bothering you?"
"Well, Scully, I was thinking you probably didn't want my hands all over
you, ah, cooling you off, but if you'd rather that I just-"
"I get your point. Go get the towel."
She closed her eyes again, hearing him run water and mess around in her
bathroom, pulling things off the shelves, putting them back, generally
being a nosy FBI agent.
She felt cold wetness settle over her and she opened her eyes.
"You actually did wet a towel," she laughed.
He smiled, glad to be basking in her smiles today. "I told you. A dinky
ol' washcloth isn't going to do you a bit of good right now."
She touched his hand, squeezed it a bit. "Thanks, Mulder."
He smiled back to her, noting how light her hair had gotten, how
freckled her nose and chin and cheeks were now, how much healthier her
skin looked in the places where it wasn't burnt.
He placed his lips to her knuckles and stood. "Well, I came to see if
you were all right, not sunsick or anything. I got to go figure up those
expense reports and somehow explain away the need for you to buy a
bathing suit down there. I'm not sure Skinner's going to go for that
one."
She smiled. "You just say that it was part of the costume, tell him I
had to or otherwise we might blow our cover."
He gave her a leering grin. "Or I could include a snapshot showing him
just how good you looked in that bathing suit and that would solve all
our problems."
She rolled her eyes and let go of his hand, allowing him to stand and
make it to the doorway.
She saw him twinge a bit as he stood and she glanced into his face with
concern.
"Are you okay, Mulder?"
He nodded. "Just a little burnt on my chest. Gives me a funny ache now
and then."
She let him leave, heard him walking through her apartment, picking
things up, setting them back down, then opening the door and locking it
behind him.
She felt unsettled for a few moments after he left, knowing somewhere
there was something important to what she'd seen, but not sure what it
had been.
Soon though, the cool towel beckoned her and she was lost in the relief
of sleep.
~~~~~
The call came at three a.m. and it surprised her.
Mulder had just been to see her. What was up now?
She answered the phone immediately, coming from sleep like a woman
attuned to her child's every cry.
She heard gasps for breath first.
"Mulder? Mulder, are you okay?"
"Scully . . .something wrong. . ." he managed to get out, still wheezing
like he'd been running all night for his life.
"Mulder? Mulder, I'm calling 9-1-1 for you, okay?"
"Something wrong. . ." he mumbled again.
She picked up her cell phone, too afraid to disconnect from Mulder,
afraid that hanging up would be like giving him a death sentence.
Thinking somehwere in her that she had to be talking with him,
concentrating hard enough to keep him breathing.
"Can't breathe" he gasped and the breaths that did come were short,
quick, painful sounding.
She got an operator and demanded paramedics to be sent to his apartment,
pulling her FBI status a bit to get the woman working faster.
Then she realized she'd never make it to his apartment before the
ambulance so she stayed on the line with Mulder.
"Mulder? I'm right here. I called the paramedics. They'll be there in a
few seconds. Okay? Don't answer, don't talk, just keep breathing for me.
As soon as they have you, I'm going to meet you at the hospital. They'll
take you to Memorial. You'll be all right."
She paused to catch her own breath, listening to him wheeze, wondering
if he was having an asthma attack or something.
Such a mundane, ordinary thing to do in the Spooky Fox Mulder.
How unfair.
But he was going to be fine, she forced herself to think. He'd be fine.
"I hear them, Mulder. They're right there."
She heard the phone be taken from his hands and immediately felt empty,
alone.
The line went dead and so did her thoughts.
She surged out of bed, forgetting her sunburn and the pain, and pulled
on clothes, grimacing and trying not to whimper as the rough fabric
scorched every inch of her body.
All she knew was that Mulder was in trouble.
And she had to be there for him.
~~~~~
His hospital room was quiet when she was finally allowed to see him, the
walls white and smelling of previous patients, and the bedsheets harsh
and reeking of bleach.
She sank into the seat next to him with his chart, reading over the
details with incredulity.
A severe allergic reaction to his sunburn had caused his brachial
passages to swell, closing off his airway.
Nothing more sinister than that. No conspiracy, no plot to destroy him.
Such a simple thing as basically, allergies, and Mulder was in a
hospital.
It frightened her that such ordinary things could kick his legs out from
under him, have him gasping for breath, have his life endangered like
that.
Would Mulder end up dying at the age of sixty from a heart attack? Would
he fall asleep one night in his eighties and never wake up?
Could such things happen to *him*?
Or maybe she would develop cancer again, a normal, everyday cancer that
invaded her body, took over her blood and really had no miracle cure.
Maybe she would get acute diabetes and slowly waste away, going blind,
then going to death.
Maybe she could actually die the way normal people did. A car wreck, a
bad case of some bacterial fungus, viral, mutated pnemonia that caused
her lungs to fill with fluid.
She shivered.
Maybe one day she'd called on Mulder to find him sprawled in the floor,
not dead of a self inflicted GSW to the head, but of a stroke, a heart
attack, an apoplexy.
It made her feel sick.
Not to mention that her sunburn was really burning now, itching almost,
but still crawling like ants were on her.
She twisted away from the material of her shirt and touched Mulder's
hand, looking in his so still face.
"You think staring at me will make me open my eyes?" he said quietly.
She smiled. "I had hoped so. Make you just enough uncomfortable to come
on back."
He let his lashes part and then opened his eyes. "So, what's wrong with
me?"
"Allergic reaction to the sun."
He stared at her. "Me? If anyone, I'd think you would get that, burned
as you are."
She shook her head. "The burn on your chest is second degree Mulder.
Pretty bad."
He sighed. "It feels kind of funny right now."
"They put some salve on it."
He glanced to her red cheeks. "You sneak any of it for yourself?"
She shook her head, smiling. "Nope. Wish I had."
"Still hurt, G-woman?"
"Like hell."
He patted the cool sheets next to him. "Come on up, there's enough room.
You can even take your shirt off and lean against my chest, maybe some
of that salve will rub off."
She glanced at his joking face, at the way he seemed to just know she
never would and therefore enjoyed it all the much to tease her.
She stood up and pulled off her shirt, quickly before the cotton could
think about scraping her skin.
He gaped for a moment then smiled at her. "Okay, this will teach me to
open my big mouth."
Pulling back the sheet covering his bare chest, the hospital gown not in
place due to the burn, he offered her a space.
She crawled into the bed and neslted her back against his slimy feeling
chest, letting the cool relief of medicated lotion seep into her.
"Ahh. . .. this feels so good," she sighed.
He laughed and she felt it reverberate through his body.
"I don't think I've ever heard a woman so content. And all I did was let
you lay next to me - I must be good," he joked, slipping his arm around
her stomach.
She snorted. "That's the trick, Mulder. All you have to do is burn a
woman, get burned and sick yourself to be sent to the hospital, then
have them put this stuff all over you. Believe me, the sunburned women
everywhere will be flocking."
"As long as you're flocking, then all I need is a little burned chest."
She closed her eyes.
"Or something."
After being awakened at three in the morning by his call and then
spending hours awake in the waiting room, she easily nodded off in his
arms.
Feeling exhausted himself from the previous effort to simply breathe, he
followed soon after.
~~~~~
Walter Skinner stepped into the lobby of the hospital floor his agent
was supposedly on and nodded to the flustered woman at the desk. Giving
him somewhat adequate directions to find Mulder, the woman pointed down
the hall and he got started, mentally reviewing what he'd say.
'Good job, Agent Mulder. Next time try sunscreen,' was his favorite line
so far, although he knew he couldn't and wouldn't say that.
He found the room and opened the door, noting shelves at first, as if
someone would want to set up a little homey atmosphere here.
Since the bathroom was off to the immediate left, and the wall blocked
his view, he did not see his agents until he rounded the little corner.
He stopped dead in his tracks and felt his jaw drop.
First because Mulder was positively holding onto his partner for dear
life, then second because Scully's shirt was off.
As if they'd attempted to make love, but fallen asleep before even
getting their clothes all the way off.
That thought sent him reeling and he stumbled out of the door, blinking
rapidly to keep nasty images forming in his mind.
He shut the door behind him and tried to tell himself it was all a
dream.
It was, after all, Mulder.
And Scully.
They were weird anyway.
~~~~~
She was wakened by the terrible itch forming in her shoulder, and, not
thinking, she scratched it furiosuly.
Stiffening, whimpering, drawing in a hissing breath, she felt needles of
fire slit into her skin where her burn was, slicing apart her cells.
Her noise made Mulder wake and he opened his eyes to see her pain filled
ones.
"What's wrong?"
In a very small voice she said, "I scratched my sunburn."
"What'd you go and do that for?"
She glared at him.
Making clucking noises he smoothed his fingers over her angry red
shoulder. "Where do you itch?"
"Everywhere." She sounded pitiful.
He wiggled his fingers. "Here, let me show you something that helps."
He lightly began running his fingertips along her skin, down her arm and
across her shoulders and to her back, making sure not to press down too
much or not enough.
She began to relax into him, eyes closing.
"That helping?"
"Yeah. Don't stop."
He let his fingers journey down her sides to her legs, the tops of which
were on fire with the burn, literally scorching his hand as he trailed
his touch.
She moved to settle into his hand, eyes closed, face flushed and breath
coming slow, slow.
Her eyes opened then, watching him.
"Mulder, I was afraid for you."
He stopped moving, looking down to her. Lying on her back as he laid on
his side, her hair spilling out in a fan around her head, she looked
satiated, almost as if he had given her some great pleasing.
"What do you mean?"
"I thought you might die, I really actually thought it. And it was such
a silly, stupid way to die. So . . meaningless. To have died because of
something so mundane and everyday seemed unfitting for you."
"Oh, worried I won't die a noble death, huh?"
She shook her head slightly and he touched her nose with a finger.
"No, scared that something stupid would take you away from me."
"Like me not wearing sunblock and getting sun posioned and everything
for something that wasn't even an X-File?"
She looked sheepish. "Yeah. I guess I always kind of assumed you'd be
doing this forever, never ever dying. You just are too . . . too much a
presence in my life for you to just stop."
"I'm not ever going to be ready to stop, but it will happen. Hopefully
when I'm old and widowed. Or no, better yet, old and married. I'd hate
for you to go before me."
Her eyes widened. "Me?"
He glanced nervously around the room, eyes stopping at hers again with a
kind of blush. "I . . .ah, well."
He shrugged. "Sometimes, it just feels like it . . ."
She smiled. "Don't I know it."
"I guess that doesn't bother you?"
She frowned. "Why should it? In almost every sense, we are."
"Yeah, almost. And I'm on for the rest of it at any time."
He was smiling wickedly at her again, making it hard for her to tell if
he was somehow being serious.
She decided to press it with more of his humor. "So where's my ring,
then?"
"Oh, a ring. You think I have money? You know how much I make."
"And when were you planning on proposing, Mulder?"
Another grin from her made him smile too. "I wasn't. I thought I
wouldn't ask, just tell you."
She sighed melodramatically. "Let me know when you want me, Mulder."
Her words were almost still joking, but then again, he thought maybe she
was taking this a little too far for her to not be somewhat serious.
"You were scared for me?" he said suddenly.
"Yeah."
She switched topics easily with him, as if knowing exactly what was on
his mind.
"I was scared for you in the hallway, after the bee."
It was the first time he'd said anything about it.
"I was too."
"I was going to kiss you, Scully."
She looked at him, but his eyes were staring at the ceiling.
"I know."
"I'm still scared."
She took his hand. "I am too."
He took a breath then turned to see her. Reddened face, freckled
everywhere, and light strawberry colored hair.
He leaned forward and stroked her lips with his fingers, as if maybe
preparing her for what he was about to do.
Her mouth parted and caught his fingers in a kiss.
He wasn't so afraid anymore.
Their lips finally touched.
And it wasn't at all ordinary.
She need not have feared that.
~~~~~
end
adios
RM