ENOUGH 1/2 by GMD614@aol.com Disclaimer: The characters of Mulder and Scully do not belong to me. Classification: UST, MSR Rating: PG-13 for bad language Spoilers: Post-Movie Fic Thanks: to Pat Hudson, for aiming me in the right direction and proofing when necessary. Summary: Scully is fed up with the tension and silence between herself and Mulder after FIGHT THE FUTURE. She takes action. Comments encouraged! ENOUGH 1/2 Scully sat alone at the hotel bar toying with the stirrer in her Diet Coke as she flipped through the file of their latest case. Mulder, off following a lead, was sure that the simultaneous deaths of two sets of twins involved supernatural forces. She refused to follow...at least for this one night. They were in San Francisco, and Mulder actually booked them into a real hotel with an elevator, room service, and fluffy towels. The Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz highlighted the view from the lounge, and, though Scully rarely spent time in bars these days, she was rather comfortable sitting here reading through the preliminary autopsy reports. The flight from DC had been long and they were treated with an exceptional amount of disdain from the San Fran. police chief. Since returning from Antarctica, Scully and Mulder had a definite hurdle to overcome, personally. They were functioning completely in sync at work having entered a new level of trust and acceptance after being separated, tortured, reunited, and comforted yet again. However, neither agent had brought up the conversation that had taken place outside Mulder's apartment before Scully was stung by that virus-carrying bee - or the fact that Mulder initiated a kiss between them. Here was where the rift lay. When thoughts were focused solely on an X-File, Mulder and Scully were a well-oiled machine, but the moment there was room for anything remotely personal, the machine began to falter. Both became conscious of space and time, more aware of each other and of the sensual reactions due to their often close proximity on airplanes, in cars, in the office. In truth, things were quite awkward and uncomfortable between them. They were displacing five years of frustrations and fears, turning every basic conversation into an emotional tug-of-war. Scully was well aware that one specific conversation could end the standoff, but she wasn't sure she was ready to face it - or the consequences of having it - just yet. Mulder could handle a little discomfort a while longer. Scully needed to finish this case and get back to the familiarity of her home. "This seat taken?" Scully lifted her eyes to the man standing beside her. He seemed pleasant enough; however, Scully was in no mood for small talk. Her eyebrow shot up in warning. "Seems this is the quiet end of the bar, and I have some reading of my own to accomplish. I won't be any trouble to you. Scout's honor." "Sure. Let me collect my papers. I spread out a bit wider than I intended." "Mark Vaccaro," he said offering his hand. "Dana Scully." She took his hand and he smiled warmly. "Don't let me keep you another second, please. Thanks for sharing your space. Perhaps united we can ward off all the others." Scully read through the paperwork before her for another hour. Mark kept his word and hadn't said anything more to her, burying himself in a pile of his own work. They shared a bowl of pretzels, absent-mindedly touching hands as they reached into the bowl for more. Once, Mark looked up and chuckled, mumbling an apology with a bit of a flush on his cheek. Though she'd never say it, Scully thought it was quite endearing. It was 8:30 p.m. Collecting her belongings, Scully slid off the stool. It was time for a hot bath and a good long sleep. "Thanks again for sharing your space. I accomplished more than I'd hoped." Scully smiled in response, noticing Mulder in the hotel lobby. His unmistakable gait caught her attention over Mark's shoulder. "Another minute or two and the silence will be shattered. I'll save *you* the trouble of relocating. It might get loud in here if I stay." Mulder made his way into the lounge and headed for the far end of the bar while Scully collected the rest of her belongings. "Leaving so soon? How's a guy supposed to get lucky?" "Try silence, Mulder. It's golden." With that, Scully walked out of the lounge and into the elevator, never looking back. The comment hadn't gotten past Mark, nor did the irritation that radiated from the petite redhead the moment her partner entered the room. "I would not want to be you, buddy. She's incredible!" "If you only knew..." "Wife?" "Partner. FBI." "You're kidding?" "Special Agent Fox Mulder," he said both displaying his ID and extending a hand to Mark. "Dana is an Agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation?" "Dana?" "I would have never guessed..." * * * * * * * * * * Scully wrapped herself in the big, fuzzy robe hanging in the bathroom. Toweling her hair dry, she stepped out of the bathroom and turned on the radio. Soft sounds of instrumental piano filled the room. She flopped onto the bed and closed her eyes. Mulder would be up in a few minutes, she just knew it. He'd knock on her door and make smalltalk until she either kicked him out or fell asleep. It was the way of their relationship lately. It was becoming too much for Scully to handle. Perhaps she'd go against her desire to wait until she was back in her own surroundings to have *the* conversation. Perhaps tonight was as good as any night. Scully was hardly surprised when she heard a soft knocking on the main door to her room. She had fallen into a semi-sleep for a little over 30 minutes. Getting up, she felt rejuvenated. Scully opened the door to a waiting Mulder. "C'mon in, Mulder." "You're not angry?" "No." "Really no, or yes, but you're going to spring it on me unexpectedly?" "Really no. I never was angry, Mulder, just tired." "You made quite an impression on that guy at the bar." Mulder wasted no time getting to that. Scully wanted to laugh at his transparency. Could Mulder be any more obvious about it, she thought. "Did I? Hmmm." Scully raised her eyebrows, nodded, and smiled a small smile. "You enraptured him with your charm and frightened him with your sharp wit. The combination has Mr...." "Vaccaro. Mark Vaccaro." "Mr. Vaccaro, right. He's wondering just how he can spend more time with the enigmatic Dr. Scully." "He told you that?" "Are you interested in him?" "What if I am?" "Good. Great. That would be good...for you. A date would be nice." "Well, gee, Mulder, thanks for your permission. I'm glad you're so okay with it. Maybe you could chaperone, you know, make sure everything gets off to a fabulous start. You could even tell him all those quirky little things about me that only someone who spends a lot of time with me could pick up on. It would save him an awful lot of time. Then, if things go really, really well, maybe, just maybe, I'd get laid. You okay with *that*?" "Ahh, so you *did* choose option B - unexpected attack. That's not playing fair, Scully. You lied." "*I* lied, Mulder? *I* lied? Pray tell, Mulder, how truly excited are you that a gorgeous man wants to get to know me better? Shall we stay up all night and giggle while wondering how good he is in bed?" "I'll leave you alone. Obviously, you're pissed, and I'm not going to win." Mulder moved toward the door that connected their rooms. He tugged at his lower lip with his teeth, biting back...what? Anger, frustration, resentment, jealousy, truth? Scully wondered, her own anger and frustration building. "Go ahead and leave. This won't go away. Tomorrow we'll dance this dance all over again, Mulder. Tell me you haven't noticed the routine." Mulder stopped, but stood, shoulders slumped, with his back to Scully. "I can't stop you from going out, Scully. I can't stop you from wanting to. That decision is yours and yours alone." "Yes, it is." Mulder closed the distance between himself and the door. He opened it, stepped through, and gently shut it behind him. Scully heard him lean against his side of the door and slide to the floor. She, on her side, did the same. * * * * * * * * * * Scully laughed, genuinely liking this guy. Mark had a warmth, a friendliness, she hadn't encountered in years. Looking him over, Scully came to a few conclusions. He was a professional - he wore a business suit, carried a briefcase, made a decent amount of money based on the quality of the suit, his watch, and his cuff links. Mark was roughly her age with brown hair - graying at the temples, few lines on his face, very nice teeth, chocolaty eyes, olive complexion, five o'clock shadow, about 6 feet tall, 180 pounds. The bartender ambled over and refilled Scully's glass. She smiled her thanks, and checked her watch for the fifth time this hour. Where was Mulder? They had gone their separate ways today; he interviewing the parents and families of the victims and the police involved, she going over lab information and performing two autopsies on the victims. It was after 7, and there was no sign of Mulder. She had started to get nervous. Perhaps he had stumbled into a sticky situation without her there to cover his back. Scully dismissed that thought. She didn't think that was the case tonight. They had been in contact several times during the day. He called each time he started toward a new destination, filling Scully in on any new information. His last call informed Scully that he had "some things to do". He'd see her later at the hotel. Scully wanted to know how much later "later" was going to be? "Hey, Mark. How's it going," the bartender asked. "Not very well, Nick. Can't seem to get the break I need in this case I'm working on. We go to trial next week." "Tough break, kid. Hope things turn around." Nick, the bartender, placed a glass of red wine and a basket of pretzels in front of Mark. Scully noted how familiar the men were with each other. Mark was seemingly a regular here. "Pretzel?" "No thank you. You're working on a case...lawyer?" Mark nodded as he sipped his wine. "The newest member of Sander, Walton, and Gold...a regular wunderkind." He put the glass down and rubbed his temples in a circular motion. Scully did not mistake the sarcasm in his voice. If there was anything Scully understood it was problems at work. "You, Miss Scully, had me fooled. Your partner told me that you're a federal agent. I had you pegged as a lawyer myself...would have bet big money on it, too." "Why do you say that?" "Beautifully tailored suit, no-nonsense hairstyle, big fat briefcase full of files, and an unmistakable look of frustration on your face...a very attractive face, I might add." "Thank you." Scully felt her cheeks flush. Her eyes met Mark's and the pair shared a smile. Scully suddenly remembered that she was a young, mostly available woman - an attractive woman - and sat up a little straighter. It had been ages since she'd engaged in a bit of flirting with someone other than Mulder, and it felt really nice. She felt alive, appreciated. "It's true, I'm with the FBI...I'm a Special Agent here on assignment." "I'd like to see some ID please. I believe it's a crime to impersonate a law enforcement officer." "You don't believe me?" "Well, I did see your so-called partner's badge, but he could be lying. You were pretty intense when you left here last night. FBI agent sounds much more impressive than cosmetics saleswoman when a guy's masculinity is on the line." Scully and Mark laughed together as she reached around into the suit jacket that hung on the back of her bar stool. "FBI Agents are tall, dark, brooding men. You...you're a petite redhead in a designer suit. A *lavender* suit!" "Now, that's rather chauvinistic and stereotypical, wouldn't you say," questioned Scully. She flipped open her badge only to be met by Mark's gaping stare. "Close your mouth, Counsel." "I apologize. It's just that I'm overwhelmed by the fact that not only are you beautiful AND speaking with me, but you can kick my ass from here back to DC and I wouldn't know what hit me." "Well, I don't plan on firing my weapon tonight." "I don't know what to say. I'm impressed." "Oh, don't be. It's not as glamorous as you're making it out to be. Really. We spend most of our time traveling from city to city seeking the worst society has to offer." The two spoke for over an hour before moving across the hotel lobby to the restaurant for dinner. Their conversation was light and easy, touching upon everything from sports to the differences in their lifestyles and the pros and cons of east coast/west coast living. "Tell me more about your job," Mark said. "You don't want me to bore you with my work." "If you'd rather not, I'll understand, but I'm very curious. I like details." His grin was convincing. "Ask questions and I'll answer them as well as I can." "OK. I know you work out of Washington, DC. Quantico, right?" "No, Quantico is where Agents are trained. I teach a course here and there when I can, but our office is located in the J. Edgar Hoover Building in downtown DC" "What do you teach? What's your specialty?" "Forensic Pathology." "You just throw me one curve after another, Dana. I can't picture you slicing and dicing...was that your major in college?" "No, I'm a medical doctor. I was recruited out of Med. school by the Bureau. I thought it would be challenging, that I could distinguish myself...it was a little rebellious on my part. My parents didn't love the idea, but we've done good work." "What division are you assigned to? Violent Crimes?" "Sometimes. Sometimes I'm sent to the pathology labs to piece together evidence for other teams. My permanent assignment is to a small division, though. We work on...special cases...out of the mainstream." "Are you being vague on purpose?" Scully felt the queasiness that accompanies guilt settle in her stomach. She and Mulder had reached a new plateau in their partnership, their relationship, and not only was Scully here on a quasi-date, but she was intentionally sidestepping questions about the X-Files. "Yes, Mark, I am." "Still angry with your partner? He was pretty upset after you left here last night." "Is that so? You aren't going to play ambassador for him, are you? That I couldn't stomach." "No, no, he's on his own. I don't think I want to make you turn that redheaded, Irish temper on me. He seems to know how to handle it, though." "It's been turned on him more times than not. If he hasn't learned by now, Mark, he never will." "Do I detect a note of regret in your voice?" "Regret? No, absolutely not. No, Mulder's his own person. I'd never change that. Wouldn't want to." "Would I be overstepping my boundaries by asking about your relationship?" "Probably, but take your best shot." "Are you two an item?" "Not presently, no." "Does that mean you have been in the past?" "No. People outside of law enforcement generally do not understand the bond that takes place between partners." "I'm pretty perceptive. Why don't you try to explain it to me?" "If I plan on surviving out there, I have to trust my partner explicitly. There are no words to describe the levels of trust and reliance between us. I have to know him so well that I can know his next move before he does it. I have to know what he's thinking and where he's going to lead me in a life- threatening situation before he knows. It's imperative to our survival." "How do partners get to know each other *that* well? Do you, I don't know, sit around discussing hypothetical situations, or is a partnership like that formed through experience?" "Both, I think. We're together more than we're with anyone else. It is a marriage of sorts. Partnerships go through ups and downs like a marriage. Sometimes communication is so *on* that words aren't necessary, and other times, billboards couldn't get the point across." "I'm going out on a limb here, but I think you and Mr. Mulder are on a down swing." Mark's smile reached his eyes and warmed Scully in a way that she hadn't felt since college. He did seem to be perceptive, though...or was she simply wearing her proverbial heart on her proverbial sleeve? "We're that obvious, huh?" Scully chuckled in reply. They laughed with ease as Mark raised his glass in a toast. As the young professionals clinked their glasses together, toasting partnership and communication and getting to know one another, Mulder watched from a distance. He turned and headed toward the elevator not able to bear the scene before him. * * * * * * * * * * Mulder sat and waited...for 2 hours. His head rested against the headboard of the bed, arms tightly crossed over his chest and legs stretched before him, crossed at the ankles. The blue light of the television was the room's only illumination. He stared blankly at the changing images, but the sound was turned down. Mulder considered going out. He dismissed the thought quickly, noting that in his state of mind, he'd surely end up regretting anything he did. Waiting in his room, wallowing in self-pity, was the best course of action Mulder decided. Didn't he practically throw Scully into this other man's arms? What a fool he'd been thinking that he could confess his feelings to her, dangling them like bait at the end of a fishing line, then ignore that he'd even said anything. "What's wrong with me," he whispered to the empty room. Scully isn't a fish. She isn't fresh catch, he thought. "I'm losing my mind." The soft thud of a door closing alerted Mulder that Scully had returned from dinner. He leaped off the bed and pressed his ear to her door, hoping that the only sounds he'd hear were those of Scully getting ready for bed *alone*. Her knock frightened the shit out of him. He jumped back, catching his breath. Silently, Mulder retreated to his bed and then, more loudly, walked toward the door connecting their rooms. After a deep breath, he turned the knob. "Hey." He was nervous and his greeting was little more than a breathless sigh. "Hey yourself. Were you...you weren't asleep yet?" "No." "Can we, uh...let me change and then I'd like to talk to you, if you're up for it?" "I'll be here, Scully." Scully tried to smile, tried to let Mulder know that... Well, she didn't quite know what she wanted to convey. She left the door open and headed for her bathroom, gathering toiletries and her pajamas along the way. Ten minutes later, Scully entered Mulder's room and sat cross-legged on his bed. She sat to the right of his outstretched, lanky form. He didn't look at her, but rather stared blankly at the television. "Mulder?" He shifted his gaze toward her. "I waited in the lobby for you. I thought we could have dinner." "Is that so? Humph. You didn't look in need of company when *I* saw you. Actually, you looked rather comfortable and relaxed, just laughing the night away." "I waited for over an hour. I wanted to eat with you. Why didn't you let me know you were back?" "And interrupt your date? Do you think that would have been appropriate, Scully?" "It wasn't a date. Why are you being so difficult, Mulder? I'm trying to talk to you - to mend this rift." "Did you think that dinner with what's-his-name would close the fissure?" "I didn't think at all. For the first time in ages, Mulder, I didn't think. An attractive man wanted to spend time with me. Just a regular guy, with a regular job, wanted to get to know me better. Do you know how long it's been since that's happened Mulder?" "I'll take a stab in the dark, here, Scully...uhhh, Pennsylvania, Ed Jerse?" "Fuck you." Scully flew off the bed as though it was on fire. Like a bolt of lightning, she shot into her adjoining suite, and back again enraged. "Fuck you, you selfish bastard! What do you want from me? You tell me I saved you, that you don't want to fight the good fight alone. You cried with me, Mulder. God damn it, you kissed me..or would have! Did you regret it? Was it all a lie to get me to stay and hold your fucking selfish hand? Help me, Mulder! Help me, because, God as my witness, I'm losing it. I'm losing my fucking mind, here!" "Scul..." "No. You know what? I don't want to hear a word out of your mouth. Not a fucking word. Just sit there and listen." Pulling her fingers through her hair, Scully paced for a moment, taking deep calming breaths, and shaking her head to clear it. Mulder turned the television off and swung his legs off the bed. He sat, head bowed, arms resting on his knees. He couldn't look at her. Scully began to speak; her voice chillingly calm in contrast to her last words. Continued in 2/2 ENOUGH 2/2 by GMD614@aol.com Comments encouraged! Disclaimer in 1/2 ENOUGH 2/2 by GMD614@aol.com "It's because of you that I want to run from here, Mulder. From hotels, motels, that basement office. And it's because of you that I stay. When you aren't making me furious with your apparent lack of concern for anyone but yourself and your self-pity, you're making me love you. Do you have any idea what it's like to live that way? To try to reconcile that paradox within myself? "I stay, Mulder, because I belong with you. There's no place else for me. Nothing I could ever do would measure up to *us*, Mulder. I stay because it's worth staying, but I promise you, I will walk away from all of it...from *you*... if you don't make this right. I can't do this anymore. I cannot play second fiddle to the Truth. I've committed myself to the cause. Why aren't you committed to me?" Scully leaned against the door frame to her room and slunk to the floor. She rested her head against the wood of the doorway and closed her eyes. Exhausted. Drained. "He kissed me, Mulder. It felt so good to be wanted by someone who doesn't know about me. No looks of pity, or self-contempt. He didn't want to protect me, or raise me up on a golden pedestal. All he wanted was to be close to me; to share a kiss, a touch, to make love to me. He was warm, and soft, and hard, and real. His entire existence was focused on me at that moment." Mulder's shoulders shook slightly, silently. Scully couldn't hold back her tears any more than she could hold back her words. It was increasingly more difficult to speak, but she couldn't leave it at that. "Mark asked me to go back to his place. I got as far as the sidewalk, Mulder. The Truth, my truth, is that the complete focus of all Mark's attentions don't come close to how I feel when I'm with you. I'm lost, Mulder, and you're breaking my...my heart." Slowly rising off the bed, Mulder walked to Scully's place on the floor. He sank down beside her. For minutes, neither moved. They sat, crying silently, together but alone. Thoughts raced through Scully's mind at a frenzied pace. Never had she been so bold, so open with her emotions. It was freeing, frightening, and she was never so afraid of anything as she was at this very moment. It was done. There was no going back, no "just forget I ever said anything, Mulder"... Mulder embodied sorrow. His movements screamed despair. His tears tasted of fear and loathing, And his eyes...those haunted eyes...Scully was paralyzed between comforting him and leaving him there to wallow in it. Timidly, Mulder leaned toward Scully, and when she showed no resistance, he rested his head in her lap and sobbed. Scully remained unmoving with silent tears marring her face. She wanted to put her arms around Mulder, to hold him and rock him. She couldn't. She sat with his head on her thigh. Her hand found its way to his cheek, gently rubbing, then lightly scratching his scalp, feeling the silkiness of his hair against her palm. She let him cry. Mulder was curled in a fetal position on the floor of a hotel room 3000 miles from home weeping in Scully's lap for the better part of an hour, until his breathing had evened and his sobs quieted. What was left to say? How could he ever face her, face others while standing at her side? Yet, how could he not? "Mulder, my legs are asleep. I have to get up." Taking a deep breath, Mulder stood, swiping at the remaining tears with the back of his hand. He offered outstretched hands to help Scully to her feet. For a fleeting moment, he thought she'd snub his offering. Making a week attempt at a smile, Scully reached up and grabbed his hands tightly...then gave an added squeeze. The gesture didn't get past Mulder, and his breath caught in his throat. Once standing, Scully held onto Mulder's hands longer than necessary. Their eyes met and Scully let go. Mulder quickly looked away. He stood, shoulders slumped, head hanging, as Scully walked around to get the circulation back in her lower limbs. "I don't know what to do." His words were soft and his voice trembled, and still he refused to raise his eyes to hers. She didn't stop pacing back and forth next to him. "Well, I can't help you." "You're still here. After all that you said tonight, you didn't leave. Tables turned, Scully, I can't say I'd be here." "I can't stop you from running out on me, Mulder. I can't stop *you* from wanting to." Recognition of his own words registered in his eyes and Scully knew her point was made. "I never *want* to leave you, Scully. I just don't know what else to do. I just don't know...how to stay." "You just do." Scully turned from him, and returned to her own room. As she fell onto her bed, Mulder noticed that she hadn't closed the door. Staring for a minute at her tiny form, laying on her back with her left arm covering her eyes, feet dangling toward the floor, Mulder sighed deeply. Scully was so obviously leading him to do the right thing - neon signs and a bullhorn would have been less assuming. Taking a few minutes to wash his face, brush his teeth, and lock his room's outer door, Mulder made his way into the adjoining room. Scully's chest rose and fell with each measured breath. Tiny goosebumps dappled her arms and legs. It wasn't particularly cold in the room, but Mulder checked the thermostat anyway. He locked the door to her room as he did his own, and turned off the overhead light. Not until Scully felt the mattress shift under Mulder's weight did she move her arm from her eyes and look at him. "I want to stay." "Mulder..." "Scully, this is all I know how to do right now. I need you to let me do this. Please. Please, Scully." She scooted to the top of the mattress and pulled the bedspread down, slipping underneath the sheets. Mulder sat a moment longer at the foot of the bed before joining her under the coverlet. She turned onto her side, facing Mulder, with her hands tucked under her chin. He laid on his back, staring up, watching the ceiling fan spin in the shadows. "To say I'm sorry seems overwhelmingly inadequate." "Give it try anyway. I'll let you know." He rolled over to look at Scully curled beside him. One long finger of light reaching from his room across to hers was enough for Mulder to see the luminous quality of her eyes. After a shaky breath, Mulder licked his lips and closed his eyes. Scully watched tears snake along his cheek and nose and lips and chin. She watched as they fell onto the pillow, darkening the pillowcase in spots. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so so sorry." He flinched at her touch. Using only the pad of her index finger, Scully traced the path of a single tear. He studied her studying him. Her eyes followed her finger across his shadowy features. One finger became two, and two became her small hand. Scully inched closer still. As the warm softness of her lips brushed his, Mulder gasped and choked back a sob. "Shhh. It's OK, Mulder." Lacing her fingers through his hair, Scully touched her lips to the wetness of his cheek, tasting the salt of his tears with the tip of her tongue. "Scully...how do I fix it? I don't know how...I don't know how...I don't know how..." Scully stretched herself along the length of him to comfort and calm him as he alternately kissed her and repeated that phrase over and over. Her leg coiled around his hip and her hands cradled his head against hers. "Shhh, shhh, sleep Mulder. We need to sleep. Tomorrow...we'll find answers tomorrow." "I'll find the answers. I will. I'll find a way to make it right. Promise me you'll give me that chance." "We'll find them together. I promise." "I don't want to do it alone, Scully. I don't think I can...I can't." "I know." Scully felt the change - the shift in the dynamics of their relationship - as though it were a tangible entity. Her thoughts strayed to Mark, and his proposition earlier tonight. Could she have lived with herself if she went back to his apartment? Yes, She could have. Her heart was broken again tonight, both by Mulder and for him. This broken man who shared her bed meant more to her than any other. Tomorrow, and the next day, for the month, the years ahead, Mulder would do everything in his power to break the patterns of their relationship, and build a stronger foundation. As he drifted into a deep exhausted sleep, Scully nestled her nose into the hollow of his throat. She breathed in his scent and felt his arms tighten around her, hoping that Mulder's effort would be, could be, enough to make her stay. THE END send all comments to GMD614@aol.com Thanks for reading!