"Mulder." Jesus, it's dark.
"Mul-der!"
"I'm right here, Scully. I heard you the first time." Mulder sounded annoyed. "I can't see two feet in front of my face it's so dark. Here, hold on to my hand. I've already lost my flashlight, I don't want to lose you down here as well."
"I'm perfectly capable of finding my own way in the dark, Mulder." Of course, I bumped right into his backside.
We were investigating the disappearance of the entire crew of 'The Lady of Fate,' a tugboat that had run up on a reef just off the coast of South Carolina. I had convinced the Harbor Master to escort Mulder and I to the unstable vessel with a little coaxing and a good seaman's yarn of my father's from one of his earlier tours of duty. He was a mildly attractive man in his late thirties with a soft-spoken, pleasant manner. I may have gone overboard a bit in my feeble attempt at charm but it seemed to do the trick, bringing out a surly streak in Mulder along with it.
We had blindly moved ahead a few steps in the darkness, Mulder clutching my hand tightly when suddenly the boat shifted and the floor moved beneath us. I landed on my rear-end and Mulder wound up on his knees in front of me, the motion causing the overhead light to flicker on dimly. Mulder stood, made some remark about my innate ability to bring him to his knees and extended a hand to help me to my feet when we were again jolted by another shift of the hull upon the unstable reef. I found myself back on the floor, flat on my back with Mulder laying over me, his weight resting on his elbows on either side of my head and his pelvis pressed against mine.
This was not the first time Mulder and I had come in close contact with one another but it was the first time we had ever been in such an intimate position and it caught us both off guard. Mulder looked surprised - not half as surprised as I'm sure I looked. His eyes appeared black and glassy in the partial light and his breathing was shallow - before either of us had fully comprehended the ramifications of the situation his hips gave a small involuntary thrust that caused a soft gasp to escape my mouth. Mulder's eyes sparked and without thinking I responded with a reciprocal light thrust of my hips that produced a similar gasp out of him. We stared at each other for an intensely long moment and I could feel his short warm breaths as Mulder's lips hovered above mine-
"Agent Scully!"
I shoved Mulder back by the shoulders as hard as I could and had barely risen to my feet when the Harbor Master appeared down the ladder, a faint circle of light preceding him as he descended. He insisted that we leave the 'Lady' immediately and I was up the ladder faster than Mulder can say 'extraterrestrialbiologicalentity.' Needless to say neither Mulder nor I discussed what happened for the duration of our day together. I should have remembered before I set foot on that boat that Mulder and I have terrible luck when it comes to floating vessels. Not a happy thought for the daughter of a Naval Captain.
It was not fear of intimacy with Mulder that drove me up that ladder, but rather the suddenness of it. I have always felt deep down that Mulder and I would spend the rest of our lives together. At some point during our six-year partnership I realized that I couldn't imagine my life without him in it. We've been growing closer in the past year and at times it seems as if we've been hovering on the brink of a more intimate relationship - or so I thought until last night.
Human sexuality is manifested and expressed in a multitude of seemingly infinite forms. Mulder's preference is pornography - visual pornography, to be exact. Although I've teased him about in on occasion I've always thought it an innocuous, if not healthy way to express his human needs. Much healthier than short-lived relationships, one-night stands and prostitutes. I could complain about the objectification of the woman's body but in Mulder's case I know he has the proper respect for women - in the workplace or otherwise. He's been hurt more than once and his experience with women on a sexual level has been sporadic...nearly non-existent, and surprising for such an attractive man as Mulder. Imagine my surprise when Diana Fowley appeared, lending support to Mulder's assertions that the Gibson Praise case was directly related to the X-Files. An all-too real and constant reminder of his pre-Dana Scully days at the FBI when he didn't need pornography to express his sexuality. He doesn't know I know that, of course.
But I've strayed from my narrative - I had said goodnight to Mulder, wishing him a good weekend and knowing that I'd hear from him half a dozen times before Monday. I was almost to my car when I realized that I'd left the autopsy report on the Cahill case we'd just been assigned on my desk. I wanted to look it over in detail over the weekend so I turned around and went back to my desk, surprised to find Mulder had packed up for the evening and had already left the office. I stuffed the report in my briefcase, picked up a few of Mulder's stray pencils that had landed on my desk and headed back out to my car. When I reached the parking garage I was taken aback at the sight of my partner leaning over the open passenger-side door of his sedan locking lips with none other than Diana Fowley. Although it seemed a chaste kiss, it was just a little too long to really be considered chaste. He smiled at her as she sat down in the seat, shutting the door for her and crossing behind the car to get into the driver's seat. I stepped back into a shadow as they passed by, laughing together. My stomach felt like it would be taking up permanent residence at my feet.
After numbly driving home (in the rain - how is that for symbolism?) I was too tired to eat so I sat down in front of the television, settling on "Out of Africa." I'd forgotten just how sad this story is. An independent woman in love with an independent man, never really managing to find a lasting happiness together. I watched it despite my better judgement and found myself choking back unwanted tears. The similarities to my own life seemed much too great to ignore.
I spent half an hour this morning with tea bags and a cold wash cloth over my eyes. I'd heard that cucumber slices are effective at reducing puffy eyes, so I tried that, too. If I'd known I'd spend the morning administering to my puffy face I'd have booked some time at the Golden Door Spa instead, for a real treat. I decided to reinvest myself in a fitness regimen and I certainly didn't want to show up at the health club looking like my eyes had been stung by bees. I must not have looked too bad because a lobbyist from Georgetown and an investment banker from Alexandria both gave me their business cards with their home numbers written on the back suggesting we meet for drinks one night after work. I haven't been involved in the dating scene for a few years but I'm still not too old to go out and have a good time.
I had a cucumber salad for lunch.
I debated with myself over running out to the mall and purchasing a few new outfits and tried to decide who I would call first - the lobbyist or the banker. How long is an acceptable amount of time to wait before calling? Should I call this afternoon or wait until Monday? I decided that Monday would probably be more appropriate, preferably some time when Mulder is within hearing range.
It has been much too long since I've been on a date. Even longer since I've had sexual intercourse or anything close to it. I haven't thought about sex in anything but the abstract form for years. Regardless of my shock and disappointment over Mulder's turning to his ex-girlfriend for a little on the side I do not think of Mulder in that way. I do not lie in bed at night longing for his touch or dreaming about his lips. I do not imagine the ramifications of his oral fixation as it applies to cunnilingus and I certainly don't ponder the possibilities of size as it relates to hands, feet and nose. I don't. He is my partner and I cannot afford such thoughts. Not if I'm going to continue working beside him every day. And our working relationship is more important than anything - I certainly don't want to lose what we've worked so hard to build over the last six years.
Work is what brought me back to the Cahill autopsy. I dug the report out of my briefcase and started reading, losing myself in the facts and details that comprise the pieces of the whole puzzle. I've always enjoyed the challenge of discovery as it relates to the human body. What causes it to stop functioning, the vital organs shutting down until all of its life is drained? My own empty stomach and straining neck muscles brought me out of my head several hours later. Outside it was already dark and the apartment was eerily quiet. I used to find the quiet serene and peaceful but in the last few years I've found it unsettling. I turned on the stereo and wandered into the kitchen in search of a late dinner. I felt strange. Unsettled. I had come to terms with Mulder's latest folly and dealt with it accordingly. So what was wrong with me?
Mulder hadn't called once. Last night he was with Diana, but what about today? Is he still with Diana? Maybe there is much more to this tryst than I thought. Spending an evening with someone can be enjoyable. Spending the night often times the more convenient thing to do. But spending the next day? That implies the events of the night before were worth continuing. That implies a commitment or the intent to commit. That thought was bothering me a great deal and suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore. I grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay and sat down at my laptop, turning up the Tori Amos on my way past the stereo.
I spent an hour and a half tonight drafting two different versions of my resignation letter. If Mulder wants his precious Agent Fowley then fine, he can have her. He can have her for a partner as well - I recognize the signals when I'm no longer needed. 'You kept me honest, Scully, you made me a whole person.' What a load of crap. One little 'you're right, Fox' and the bat of an eyelash and he's at her mercy. I suppose that heart-wrenching confession in his hallway and that aborted kiss leading up to my...shall we say, incapacitation was all just an attempt to appeal to my innermost sense of loyalty, guilt and loneliness. To get me to stay with him until Diana came to her senses and returned to him. The man is blind. Well, if that's what he wants, then by all means, enjoy yourself, Mulder. Let him waste those perfectly good lips on her wrinkled old shriveled ones. He'll be sorry one day when good old Scully isn't around to pick up the pieces or review a suspicious autopsy report. I'll just finish the last bit of the bottle of Chardonnay I found after the other bottle was finished. I've deleted both of the letters I wrote earlier and now have begun the third.
The sun was streaming in through the window, hurting my eyes as I blinked to open them. My head felt foggy and my neck and back complained sharply as I sat up at my desk. Shit. The battery on my laptop died some time in the middle of the night and I lost everything I had been working on. It probably wasn't worth saving anyway, judging by the throbbing in my head. The vague recollection of 'Dear Cocksucker' floats through my muddled brain and I groan for the pain and the embarrassment to my innate Scully sensibility. I have hit an all-time low, drinking myself silly with cheap Chardonnay over what?
A man.
A friend.
Someone who has proven his trust and his friendship time and again. Someone who I have put my trust and friendship in just as frequently. I would do it again without a second thought if he needed me to.
Maybe that is the problem. Instead of showing my support, letting him know how much he means to me, I've pushed him away with my cold professionalism and rigidity. I mistakenly thought that what he needed most from me was my logic and stability, firm in the belief that science would provide the answers to the questions we were asking. I should have been more supportive, more understanding, more giving. I used to be warm and trusting, a fun-loving woman and an enthusiastic lover. When did I stop smiling? Laughing at a good joke? When did I stop participating in the simple things in life like dancing and going to a movie? What happened to all of my friends? When did I stop being a real friend in difference to being 'Scully?'
Who is 'Scully,' anyway?
Scully is Mulder's partner.
Scully is a scientist and a forensic pathologist.
She's an FBI agent and a friend.
She is Mulder's friend.
She is Mulder's.
Diana or no Diana, she is Mulder's.
The realization of this hit me with a sudden ferocity. In the back of my mind I had reserved a place for the future, for the chance to have a life, a husband, a family, a home, maybe even a dog. I thought that there would be time for all of those things once I was able to find a few of the answers that I sought. Somewhere in the fabric of that future the idea that Mulder would be a part of that life had become firmly woven into the composition, almost unknowingly.
Mulder. What a life he's lived. Losing a sister to suspicious circumstances as a child, emotionally abandoned by his parents. Manipulated and abused by the few women he's loved. How does Diana fit into that equation? His relationship with her may turn out to be a very positive thing for him. Maybe Diana will be the one to heal him, make him whole in the way I never could. Not that I didn't want to try - Fox Mulder's charms have always been my soft spot...that and his soulful eyes. I could have spent a lifetime trying to heal his battered soul. But he wants Diana.
I now see that all of these years of light teasing and innuendo, electric touches and meaningful glances between us I have misinterpreted as something more than friendship. In all likelihood, Mulder has been carrying a torch for Diana all along. I can't honestly say that I believe she is the right woman for him and I don't believe her motives are in his best interest. But if he loves her, who am I to stand in the way? I will try to stay out of it and if he asks for my advice I will be tactfully honest. I will let him know that I support him in whatever direction his life may take. I will make every attempt to be the friend that he expects me to be.
A heaviness falls over me in dark resignation. I cannot change what has happened, I can only accept or deny. I cannot imagine a life without Mulder in it. Whatever he needs, whether it be a friend, a confidante, an advisor, a steady shot to cover his back - I'll be there. As for me, well...
I need a shower. A long, hot shower complete with steam and plumeria bath gel and those lovely exfoliating bath gloves. Then I'll go to mass at St. John's and with the help of Father McCue try to regain my inner strength. Every ounce of my being tells me I'm going to need it.
Today was not such a bad day after all. I ran into my Mother at mass and we went to lunch together then spent a few hours window-shopping. We made a side trip to the Navy Exchange and I picked up a few essentials - I forgot how reasonable the prices are, not to mention the lack of sales tax. Mom and I talked about Matthew's newest feat - he's walking now and Tara is having a hard time keeping up with him. I made a promise to Mom that we'd spend more days together like this one from now on. I hate thinking of her all along in that big house and I certainly could do with her company in the months ahead. It is fortunate that she maintained her relationships with the other officer's wives over the years - she has an impressive group of friends that are both a comfort and support to her from day to day. Mom is a testament to the fact that it is possible to find personal fulfillment even though you've lost the love of your life. I need to keep reminding myself of that simple truth.
I didn't think about work or Mulder once this afternoon. Well, that's not entirely true. Maybe once. The honest truth is, I'm ok with this now. Maybe not ok, but I can and will handle it. I'll survive. The important thing here is Mulder's happiness regardless of my own selfish interests.
The sound of someone knocking at my door pulls me out of my thoughts. I'm not expecting anyone so I cautiously peer out the peep hole. It is Mulder. I take a deep breath and steady myself - this is it. I can do this. Mulder gives me a shy smile as I open the door. He looks good but a little anxious, which I suppose is usual for Mulder.
"I was in the neighborhood..."
"Come in." I hold the door open wide and he steps inside, waiting for me to shut the door and running an appraising glance over me when he thinks I'm not paying attention. "Did I come at a bad time?"
I realize that I am slightly overdressed, still wearing my outfit from mass this morning. "Oh, no. I was out today and I haven't changed yet." I notice that he isn't making any attempt to sit down and his eyes dart nervously around the room. "What is it, Mulder?"
"I, uh...actually, I came to talk with you." He picks up a candlestick off of my sofa table and examines it thoroughly, as if it is suddenly the most interesting thing he has ever laid eyes on.
I take another deep breath. I didn't expect this so soon. I have to give him credit - at least he has the decency to tell me to my face. I walk past him and sit down on the sofa, looking up in a silent invitation for him to join me. He sits next to me, folding his hands in his lap then laying them down on either side of his legs, shifting uncomfortably. "What is this about, Mulder?"
He looks over at me, takes in a breath and then stands, crossing over to the fireplace. "I guess the best way is for me to just say it. I... have issues." He pauses, looking over at me with expectation.
Issues. Issues? This is news? "Yes?" My reply is meant to encourage him but it sounds more like a confirmation.
"Well, they have never been things I was able to deal with until recently. It's not that I didn't know about them, but I chose to ignore them."
"How recently?"
He leans against the mantle, a shy smile playing on his face. "Do you remember 'The Lady of Fate'?"
Uh oh. What does that have to do with it? I swallowed involuntarily. "Yes. It was just two weeks ago."
Mulder runs his palm over his mouth and fidgets. "That was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back."
I missed something somewhere because this conversation is no longer making sense to me. "Mulder?" I entreat, hoping for clarity.
Mulder's leg is bouncing now - we're starting to get somewhere. "I came back from our trip to South Carolina knowing that I had to deal with these issues if I wanted to move ahead with my life. So, I contacted a colleague of mine who I've known by reputation for several years. A counselor."
"You've seen a counselor? Mulder, this isn't another one of those hypnotic regression therapies..."
"No! No, it's not like that. This is a more traditional form of counseling. The kind where two people sit down and talk...kind of like what we're doing." He fixes his full gaze upon me and I feel a tightening in my chest in response.
I reply with a nod, realizing that this conversation needs a little encouragement for no other reason than I can't last much longer. "So, you've seen a counselor and you've talked about 'issues' that you have that you feel you are now able to deal with. Am I leaving anything out?"
Mulder begins to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. This isn't easy for him, I know. It's not easy for me, either, but I'm going to let him say what he came to say. I remain excruciatingly silent for a few minutes, watching him pace and work out his thoughts.
"Scully?"
"Hmm?"
"You know about Diana -- don't you?"
Nothing like the direct approach. How did he know that I knew about Diana? I wait a moment before answering, looking at my hands as they lay in my lap, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. "Yes, Mulder. And I'm ok with it."
He stops and looks at me in surprise. "You are?"
I close my eyes and nod once.
Mulder crosses over to the sofa and sits down, taking one of my hands in his. "I didn't know how to approach you with this."
I take my hand from his and reach out to give his arm a squeeze before standing. I will be as understanding as possible but not in such close proximity. That pain in my chest that has been plaguing me off and on all weekend is back and I need to put a little space between his body and mine.
Visibly relieved, Mulder continues. "This counselor suggested that I try to work things out with Diana. When she left six years ago there were still a lot of unresolved feelings between us. They went back farther than that, even. Back to Phoebe, back to Samantha's disappearance. I was able to bury these feelings deep down, losing myself in my work...in *our* work, until they started resurfacing. It became obvious to me in South Carolina that I needed to get them all out in the open. After speaking with the counselor, I approached Diana and asked if she would be willing to work through this with me. She agreed. We talked all night on Friday night and all day yesterday. We were able to resolve some issues."
Again with the 'issues'. As Mulder speaks I can feel the pain in my chest driving my eyes to the point of tearing. I can't have him see me like this so I stand with my back to him willing the tears to dry, desperately trying to gain control over my emotions. I will not cause a scene. I gain a little headway and took a series of deep breaths, calming my voice enough to speak. "Whatever you need from me, Mulder just ask."
"You're an important part of this, Scully, that's why I'm here. Your participation will determine my success or failure."
I try the deep breaths again, then turn and face him. "If you want to work with her, Mulder...I'll understand. I'll step aside."
Mulder's face was incredulous. "What? Scully, what are you talking about? Wh..." Mulder's eyes searched my still-slightly puffy eyes and a light went on somewhere behind them, his mouth falling open. "You think I came here to ask you that?"
I feel like I'm sixteen again and Jason MacDonald is breaking up with me. Sixteen or thirty-four, it doesn't hurt any less. The emotional roller-coaster I've been riding this weekend has taken its toll and I no longer have control of the ride.
Mulder wraps an arm around my shoulders. He speaks in soft tones, an almost-whisper. "Scully, that is the *last* thing I want."
I look into his eyes and he continues. "I don't want to work with Diana. I don't want to do anything with Diana. That's all behind me now. I want to look ahead without any fears or unresolved issues holding me back." He cups my cheek in his hand with a gentle caress. "I want to do that with you, Scully. Only you. If you'll have me." He pulls back just enough to look at me.
A wave of tears hits me and I begin to sob uncontrollably. Mulder doesn't know what to do as he'd never encountered an out- of-control bawling Scully before. He puts his hands on either side of my face and tilts my head back until he's looking directly into my eyes. His confusion and love - yes, love - plays over his face and I smile through my tears, telling him with my eyes how much the idea pleases me. He grins at me and I chuckle, our smiles fading as he wipes the tears off of my cheeks with his thumbs. Our laughter subsides and we look at each other, the sentiment growing serious. A long moment passes and very slowly Mulder leans in as I raise myself up on tiptoe and our lips meet at last, soft at first but full of potential. The second kiss is much longer and a lot less cautious as our tongues meet and retreat, only to meet and retreat again and again. I can't resist giving Mulder's bottom lip a little nip with my teeth - I've wanted to do that for so long.
Mulder's eyes are glassy and warm and he smiles at me then pulls me against him tightly, resting his chin on my head. I don't know how but I can feel him smiling. After a long while he takes my hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze before leading me over to the sofa to sit. The autopsy report is still laying on the coffee table and he can't help himself. He picks it up and looks at it. "So, did you find anything unusual in the Cahill autopsy?"
I close my eyes and gather my thoughts, trying to switch back into Dr. Scully mode even though I'd like nothing more than to slide back into the warmth of his embrace. "Yes. The medical examiner did a less than thorough job - I think I'd like to take another look at the body and run another tox screen on the blood just to make sure something didn't fall through the cracks."
Mulder smiles and it is a smile I know well. We are going on a field trip. "There's a lead on the source of the chemical found in Cahill's blood - the Coast Guard requested a hazmat team on an abandoned sailboat off of the coast of Florida..."
I groan before he could finish. "No more boats, Mulder."
Mulder laughs. "What's this? Captain Scully's little Starbuck isn't up for a trip to the sea?"
"Bad things happen to us on boats, Mulder."
His eyes glow a bright emerald green as he looks at me. "Not all bad." He says softly.
Oh. He's thinking about 'The Lady of Fate.' Or maybe something else...a luxury liner, further back, perhaps. His eyes have an almost dreamy quality and I think I'm going to get to spend a little more time exploring his mouth with mine as he pulls me against his chest. But instead of a kiss he lays his cheek against my forehead and asks an innocent question, lightly tracing circles on my arm with his fingertips.
"So, Scully, what else has been going on with you since Friday besides reading autopsy reports and going to church? Anything interesting?"
Now that catches me off guard; but I recover quickly. "No, Mulder, it was a weekend just like any other weekend when we're not in the field. Completely ordinary." I feel him smile again and I close my eyes, relief washing over me as I let the liquid sensation of his arms around me sweep me away.

Fin

beduini@aol.com
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Starship/9769/

Beduini