WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME? II: NEVER TEAR US APART (4/5)

by Diadem and Isahunter

(Disclaimers in part one. NC 17!)

Mulder sat in his car, freezing his ass off, gazing in the rear-view mirror

at the reddened palm print that marred his cheek. Damn, it still stung. She

packed quite a wallop.

Settling once again into an all-too-familiar scowl, he stared at Scully's

apartment. It had been at least a half hour since she kicked him out...yet

Spender was still there. Warm and comfortable, probably taking up residence

once more on her couch. Christ, when the bastard had put a possessive hand on

Scully's shoulder, it had taken every bit of will power to keep from ripping

him in half. It would've been easy--he was a skinny little weasel, after all.

Wrapping his leather jacket tighter about him, he shivered. It was freezing,

but he wasn't about to go home. Not while that bastard was still in there.

Leaning his head back against the seat, he sighed heavily, his breath leaving

him in an icy cloud. He would wait. He had to wait. It wouldn't be much

longer now.

He hoped.

What seemed like hours later, he was muttering incoherently to himself.

Shivers wracked him constantly, a steady stream of quaking from his head to

his toes. He knew he should get out and run around the block or something,

but--

Sudden knocking on the passenger side window nearly made him jump out of his

skin. He peered through the icy glass to see Scully standing there, and

quickly unlocked the door. She hurried into the car, and slammed the door

behind her.

"Mulder, what are you doing out here?" she asked, in frosty puffs. "It's

freezing."

"Where is he?"

"Spender went home. A long time ago. I've been trying to call you, but you

weren't home and your cell phone isn't on."

"Yeah, well...I got sick of waiting and didn't want to waste the battery."

She grabbed his chin and tilted his face towards her, until she could see the

cheek she'd pummeled. She frowned, but whether or not her hand print was

still there, he didn't know.

Leaning forward, she touched her lips to his icy cheek with incredible

softness. "I never should've done that."

"I had it coming. Next time I'll just remember Spender's advice and pick up

a hooker."

"That's not funny."

"Sorry. I ran out of my sense of humor a couple hours ago."

"C'mon. I've got to get you inside, get you warmed up." She reached for the

door handle, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"I didn't mean to mess things up with Spender. I thought he went home hours

ago."

"He should have," she said, with a tight-lipped smile. "Spender did seem

quite unnerved, but he settled down after a while. I just had to sit through

another hour of his boring conversation."

Mulder winced. "God, now I really am sorry."

"Let's go. I'm starting to form icicles here."

He slid out of the car and locked the doors, surprised when he couldn't feel

his fingers. His toes tingled like they'd fallen asleep. He practically

tripped over his own feet as he followed her into the apartment building. She

looked back to see him still shuddering.

"God, you're colder than I thought. We need to hurry."

By the time they reached her door, and she fit her key into the lock, her

worried gaze was passing over him with a decided frown. Shutting the door

behind them, she tossed her keys on the table and reached for the edges of his

coat.

"Take off your jacket," she said, already pulling it off his arms. When it

fell loose from his hands, she laid it over the back of the couch. "We should

get you into the shower, heat you up."

"Scully, are you coming on to me?"

"This isn't funny, Mulder. Your hands and face are freezing. After that

little stint in Antarctica, I would think you'd know better than to chance

hypothermia and frost bite."

"You know I'd do anything for you."

She pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans and set it down on the

couch. "All right, then take off your shoes and get out of those pants."

"Oooh, Scully, I think--" His words cut off abruptly as she reached for his

button fly herself, taking matters into her own hands. "Damn, woman, you

could wait for me to comply."

Popping open his jeans, one handed because of her sling, she then dropped to

her knees and began tugging on his shoe. He lifted his foot the moment she

got a good grip, nearly causing her to fall flat on her ass. He started to

reach for her, but she easily regained her balance and started on the other

foot.

"Take your shirt off."

Arching an eyebrow, he did as she asked. His black turtle-neck fell to the

floor, leaving him shivering in just his jeans and underwear. Climbing to her

feet, Scully started towards the bathroom. Seconds later, he could hear the

water running. He shook his head. Hell, if she wanted to warm him up, he

could have suggested dozens of better ways to go about it.

"Mulder, get in here."

"Yes, dear."

His smart-ass remark earned him nothing but an unappreciative scowl.

"Aren't you coming in with me?"

"No. I'm supposed to keep my bandage dry. Now get in the shower."

He stripped out of his jeans, fumbling with half-frozen fingers to pull his

underwear off as well.

She opened the shower door and ushered him inside. The warm spray was like

stinging needles against his painfully cold flesh, and he let out a startled

gasp.

"Is it too hot?"

He shook his head, his teeth chattering.

"I'm going to make you some hot tea."

"With lots of honey," he said, as she walked away. She glanced at him over

her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at his not-so-subtle bee reference. He had

to laugh.

After a few minutes, the water wasn't quite so biting against his skin. A

few minutes after that it began to feel good. By the time Scully came back

with his tea, he was half asleep under the steaming shower.

"What did you find out about Spender?"

Her hesitation made him open his eyes. "Well--I don't know anything for

certain. I just have this feeling..."

"Women's intuition?"

"I guess you could call it that. Agent Spender ranks about an eleven on the

Gives Me The Creeps scale. He kept talking about how we all work for the same

people, and other such garbage. I just *know* he's corrupt. But, we have no

proof."

He didn't say anything about the cigarette butt he'd found in Spender's

office. For some reason, given her tone of voice, he didn't think it was as

important as what she was about to say. "What else, Scully?"

"He--oh, God, how do I say this without you going ballistic?"

"Just say it."

"He tried to kiss me."

Oddly, he found himself smiling. "Did he succeed?"

"Hell, no. He's lucky I didn't shoot him."

His grin grew even wider. "He's lucky I didn't do it for you."

"Mulder?"

"Hmm?"

"You should probably get out now, and get dry. I got out some extra blankets

and towels."

Although his fingers still felt a bit stiff, he reached out and turned of the

faucet. Cold air swept in as she opened the shower door.

"Here, drink this."

He took the mug from her and sipped it cautiously. Not hot enough to burn,

and sweetened just like he asked. He stepped out of the shower stall and was

about to reach for a towel, when, once again, she did it for him. He nearly

choked when she started sliding the terry-cloth over his body, mopping up

excess moisture. She took extra time drying his hair, standing on tip-toes

just to reach. Smoothing her way to the droplets that clung to the hair on

his arms and chest. Down his torso to the thatch of hair that covered his

groin, lingering for a moment, before moving down to his thighs. By the time

she worked her way behind him, up his legs and over his ass, he didn't need

any more damned tea. He was hotter than hell. She wasn't the least bit

hampered by her bound arm. The arm she did use worked miracles--he'd been so

cold earlier he'd felt shriveled, but now...now he was anything but.

Annoyingly, she didn't even seem to notice. She just kept right on with her

clinical motions, like a nurse fussing over a patient, as if totally unaware

he had an erection that could rival the hardness of diamonds.

Setting his mug down on the sink, with a not-so-steady hand, he sucked in a

shuddering breath.

She stopped wiping the towel over his back and just stood there, her fingers

resting against his shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry I slapped you."

He could barely get the words out. "I know why you did it."

"I know you do, but that doesn't excuse it."

"I forgive you, Scully."

He felt the kiss she placed on his spine all the way down to his soul. He

reached behind him for her good hand and felt the towel fall from her fingers.

He placed her palm over his chest and as she rested her cheek against his

back, he couldn't tell which was hotter--her flushed face or his steaming

skin.

"Would you let me do something to make it up to you?"

He swallowed heavily. "Oh yeah."

He could feel her smile against his back, and seconds later she was following

her arm around to stand before him. "Are you warm enough?"

"If I get any warmer I'm gonna spontaneously combust."

"Oooh...I was kind of hoping you would." Before he could come up with a

response, she lowered herself to her knees before him on the plush carpeted

bath-mat. His mouth fell open in shock, and he could only stare blindly as

she placed a simple kiss to the tip of his erection. So...she had noticed.

Moving slowly, so as not to jostle her shoulder, she pulled off her sling and

tossed it on the floor. She slid her hand up his thigh, using her wounded arm

as an anchor, before meeting his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes. And, when she

wrapped her good hand around the length of his cock, he thought he'd died and

gone to heaven.

With the slightest feather-light touch, she ran the tip of her tongue up the

sensitive ridge below his cock, from the base of his shaft all the way to the

head. Like licking an ice-cream cone. He could feel his lungs constricting,

clenching painfully in his chest. She swirled her lips over and around him,

kissing and nibbling, doing things he never imagined her doing. Not even in

his wildest fantasies. Somehow, his mind always skipped away from this

image...as if Dana Scully was too good for this sort of thing. In reality,

she was too good *at* this sort of thing.

She knelt before him, her hair falling in copper waves around her face, her

eyes closed in concentration, her cream-puff lips wrapped around him like

savoring a bit of candy. Christ, he was lucky he was still breathing. She

took as much of him into her mouth as she could, but it was obvious that 'Deep

Throat' was a name to be saved for his former informant alone.

It didn't matter. The things she was doing to him blew his mind...so to

speak. Wrapping her mouth around him, she sucked hard while teasing the

sensitive skin of his scrotum with tickling fingers. Her tongue bathed him,

sweeping away the drops of moisture leaking from the swollen head. Yet, when

she opened her eyes to gaze at him, and started moving her fist over the

length of his shaft, using her own saliva as a lubricant, his knees nearly

buckled. She sucked hard, keeping up a steady rhythm as familiar as his own

palm. One long, slow stroke, followed by five fast, vigorous pumps. His ears

were ringing so loudly, he almost didn't hear the sound of his own whimpers.

His hand gripped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. The

closer he got to the edge, the more he felt the need to move. To thrust into

her open mouth and ease his suffering. But he held back, barely restraining

himself, lest she decide never to do this again.

He could feel his balls rising, and his breath fell from his lips in harsh

gasps. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? Did she know how

much he loved her?

"Ahh, Scully--I'm gonna--" He couldn't stop the movement of his hips any

longer...keeping still was like trying to stop a tsunami. "Scculleeee!"

The echo of his shout bounced off the walls, ricocheting back at him as he

emptied himself into her mouth in a series of rapid thrusts. Her eyes

widened, taking on a momentary glimpse of fear, before she accepted what he

gave her...and swallowed.

This time, his knees did buckle. He dropped down to kneel before her, taking

her face in his hands, watching--mesmerized--as she licked her lips. She

smiled, softly, shyly, damned near breaking his heart. He had no doubt she'd

never done that before...well, at least, not that last part...and he was

amazed at her audacity. He kissed her gently, tasting himself on her lips,

before giving her a full-force grin.

"Baby, that was so good--if I were the President, I would've given you a

cigar."

She giggled, resting her head against his shoulder. "You really--I mean, it

was really OK?"

"Oh yeah. It was better than OK. Much better."

Pulling back to look at him, she grinned slyly. "Good...'cause next time

it's your turn."

"You'll have to give me a few minutes to catch my breath."

Gathering her feet below her, she reached for her sling and stood. Taking a

sip from the mug he left on the counter, she handed him his tea and urged him

to drink the rest. "I hate to tell you this, Mulder, but you aren't spending

the night."

With that she disappeared into the living room.

Still stunned, he quickly wrapped the discarded towel around his waist and

followed her. "Why not?"

Picking his clothes up off the floor, she laid them neatly over the back of

the couch. "What if Spender came back?"

"Why in God's name would Spender come back?"

"I don't know...but that's precisely the point. We don't know how that

little weasel thinks." She lowered her voice a bit. "He could be listening

outside the door right now."

He gave her a look she knew very well, because she'd perfected it herself.

Scully patented the "you're crazy" look.

Bending to reach for his socks, she said, "And be sure to take all your

clothes this time. I nearly had to dive for the couch tonight just to hide

the tie you left over the weekend."

"Why do I suddenly feel like the 'other woman'?"

She finally smiled at him. "You know that if the circumstances were

different, I'd love for you to stay. But we both have to work tomorrow and we

need some sleep."

"So...I'm supposed to just come and go?"

Her cheeks took on a decidedly pink glow. "Yeah."

If he hadn't just had his socks knocked off by this woman, he might've been

disappointed. Instead, he reached over and took his socks from her hand.

"I'll go. But as soon as this is over, I'm finishing what you started. And,

just for my enjoyment, I want you wearing nothing but that tie I left behind."

The air was bitingly cold as he stepped out of Scully's building. Pushing

his hands into his pockets, he puffed out a breath of air, and jogged towards

his car. Grinning at the memory of Scully coming out to rescue him, he

unlocked the door and slid into the driver's seat.

While he waited for the car to warm up and melt the ice on the windshield, he

debated with himself over where he should go. Home was boring--he would only

be thinking of Scully. Well, he'd be thinking of Scully wherever he went,

she'd made sure of that. The Gunmen would probably be awake, but he wasn't

really in the mood for greasy chips and a late night surfing session of all

the X-rated sites on the internet.

Blowing on his hands, he suddenly remembered what Scully had told him about

the surveillance tapes at the hospital. He should have known HE was behind

it: he had certainly suspected as much, but now he had proof. Or at least,

proof existed. And he was personally going to make sure it stayed that way.

Pushing the gas pedal not so gently, Mulder turned the car around in the road,

and headed for the hospital.

Mulder couldn't imagine why Scully had decided to become a doctor. Hospitals

were depressing places: everyone was either miserable or exhausted, and they

never stopped. As he made his way once again to the nurse's station, he was

amazed to see the young nurse he had spoken to earlier still on duty.

"Still here?" he inquired with a smile.

"Still here," she replied, and yawned behind her hand. "Still waiting for my

replacement to arrive. Can I help you?"

"Actually, yeah. I didn't get the chance to take a proper look at that tape

before, and I was hoping I could do it now?"

"It's 2 am." The girl looked confused.

"Chronic insomnia," he told her with a wink. The action had the desired

effect: the nurse backed away slightly, and waved a hand in the direction of

the video player.

"Over there. I think the tape's still in there." She yawned again as an

alarm began to sound and a little red light lit up on the desk. "Excuse me."

She leaned across the desk and grabbed the phone, punching in three numbers.

"Janice? We need Dr. Marten down here now!" She replaced the hand set and

took off down the hallway at a run.

Left on his own, Mulder studied the tape player. The tape had, indeed, been

left in the player, a situation he was less than happy with, but was willing

to overlook seeing as the tape was still there. Settling back against the

edge of the table Scully had sat on earlier, her pressed "Play."

The tape had been left where Scully finished watching: Mulder could just see

the back of one man leaving the room. Pushing the rewind button, he tried to

follow who the characters were: Scully had only been able to identify one of

them, but he wanted to have a go at the others. He suddenly realized there

was no one on the screen, and pressed "Play" once again.

He didn't have to wait long. Only a second or two had passed when a figure

walked in to the room. The image was only black and white, and extremely

fuzzy, but it was clear the figure was Spender. He stopped at the foot of the

bed, and picked up Diana's chart, tracing one of the lines with his finger.

After a minute or so he wandered round to the other side of the bed, so that

Mulder could no longer see his face as he pulled up a chair and sat down.

He had only been sitting a moment when four men, three identically dressed in

black suits and trench coats, the fourth wearing jeans and a leather jacket,

entered the room. One was indeed the Cigarette Smoking Man, another looked

vaguely familiar, while Mulder had never seen the third before. The fourth

was standing in a corner with his back to the camera, too near the edge of the

frame to be in focus.

The man Mulder had never seen before seemed to be discussing something with

Spender, who nodded like an idiot.

After a few minutes the conversation seemed to be over. Spender motioned for

the others to leave the room, which, to Mulder's surprise, they did. It was

only then that he could see the fourth person, still blurred, but unmistakable

in his appearance. He couldn't believe it. Reaching for his cell phone, he

wondered if Scully had seen the same thing.

He started when the cell phone rang before he had a chance to dial.

"Mulder."

"Mr. Mulder. I am calling from D.C. General, about Ms Diana Fowley."

"Has there been any change?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you any details over the phone, Mr. Mulder, but we

would be grateful if you could come down here immediately."

"I'm already here," he informed her.

"You're with her already?" The voice sounded confused and over stressed.

"No. I work for the FBI. I was following up a lead down here."

"Oh. You know what room she's in?"

"Yes," he assured her, as he ejected the tape from the player and tucked it

into his jacket. "I'm on my way now."

He wondered at how he could have missed anything going on in Diana's room: it

was only just across the hall. But upon reaching the door, he found the room

empty. Baffled, he turned around, almost knocking a passing orderly to the

ground.

"Sorry." He shook his head.

"Not a problem." The orderly smiled. "Can I help you?"

"I don't know. I was looking for Diana Fowley, she was here this

afternoon..."

"511," the orderly told him. "They moved her up a floor."

"Thanks." The elevator was not far away, and Mulder made a mad dash down the

hallway in an attempt to catch it before the doors closed. He stuck an arm

out, forcing the doors open before they shut him out completely. There was no

one else in the carriage, and he leaned against the shiny metal walls until an

enthusiastic "ping!" told him it was time to leave.

Mulder started walking, checking the numbers above the doors as he went.

513, 512, 511.

He pushed the door open, gently, not wanting to disturb the occupant. Most

of the machines had been cleared away, with just one IV drip going in to her

left arm.

He paused for a moment at the foot of the bed, before grabbing a nearby chair

and pulling it closer. The rubber tipped legs squealed along the floor, and

he cursed at the noise.

"Fox?" The voice was hoarse, hesitant, as though afraid.

"Diana." He nodded to her, and sat down. "How are you feeling?"

"Not so good." She coughed, and made a face. "They said I'm going to make

it, though, so that's something."

"Yeah." He paused, not knowing what to say. "Why did they call me?"

"Next of kin." She continued when he appeared confused. "Never got around

to changing it. Didn't have anyone to change it to."

"Oh." Not much you could say to that.

"But I did want to." She coughed again, and struggled to sit up. He wanted

to help her, but he physically couldn't move towards her. "Talk, I mean."

The drugs were still clouding her brain: another minute, and she would be

asleep again.

"I'm not sure we have anything to say to each other, Diana." He pushed his

chair back, this time delighting in the squeals when they made her flinch.

"Stay." She reached out for him, but could not make contact. "Please." She

squeezed her eyes shut. "Won't take long."

He sat down again, but left the chair where it was. It wasn't like he had

anything better to do at half past two in the morning.

Well, he could think of one thing, but Scully had vetoed that.

"You were right. About the Consortium. And I was," she coughed again, this

time almost doubling over with the pain. When she had recovered, she

continued. "I was telling you the truth in the warehouse. Well," she paused,

"most of the things. They..." Her eyes slipped shut.

"Diana?" She had always done this: prevented him from getting information at

the last moment.

Her eyes fluttered, then opened, and she took a deep breath. "They did make

me marry you: I was always a part of their agenda. I reported on you twice a

week. I did keep you away from the cases that would get you too close to the

truth."

"You bitch." Mulder spoke softly, but there was nothing but hatred in his

tone.

"I know. Just, please, hear me out. It was like that, for the first month

or so. I wasn't in love with you, but I certainly grew fond of you. It's

true," she defended herself as she saw the incredulity on his face. "But I

suppose I can't make you believe me. That's why I had to leave, I was getting

too close. They decided to give me a cooling off period. Then they brought

me back to finish you off."

"Well, you nearly managed it." Was she telling the truth? Something in her

tone made him think twice. She had more to lose, after all, by telling him,

than by denying flat out any involvement with the Consortium. "Why Scully?

Why shoot her and not me?" She was fading now: he hadn't much time to get the

answers he wanted.

"She got in my way. It was supposed to be a warning..." She trailed off,

her eyes glazing over.

"You found her, then?" Mulder started and looked up at the orderly he'd

nearly knocked down in the hallway. He could only nod dumbly. "Well, it

looks to me like she's worn out. Been a big day for her. There's a bench

down the hall, you can wait there until she wakes up again."

Mulder watched as the orderly retreated from the room. Slowly, he stood, and

once again stared down at the woman before him. He'd loved her. She betrayed

him. But she was herself a victim. And even though he accepted this fact, he

could not bring himself to feel any sympathy for her.

The bench was, just as the orderly had promised, just down the hall, tucked

just around the corner to another hallway. Mulder sat down, letting his eyes

slide shut, and wishing not for the first time that some of the hospitals'

budgets should be spent on the relatives as well as the patients. How much

can a cushion cost? He shook his head: he must be getting tired if his brain

was going off on tangents like these.

He opened his eyes, and examined the hallway around him. "Obstetrics" read

the sign in front of him. "Oncology" announced the one underneath it. God,

that brought back nightmares.

He was shaken from his reverie by a commotion around the corner. He began to

rise from the bench, but stopped himself when he realized the noise was

heading his way.

"Sir, she's sleeping. Sir. Sir, you can't go in there. Sir, please..."

Whoever it was evidently was not in the mood for negotiation, Mulder reflected

as he listened to the footsteps grow nearer. "Sir!"

He was only half listening: it was a speech he'd been on the receiving end of

many times. But the sight of the man striding across the end of the hallway

grabbed his attention immediately. It was Spender.

The little weasel was really starting to get on his nerves. Striding down

the hallway, he caught the rest of Spender's words as he neared the door.

"I'm an FBI agent, and this is my partner. Now if you don't want me to have

you thrown out of this room and dismissed from this hospital staff, I suggest

you leave us alone."

The nurse backed out of the room, her mouth twisted in anger, before striding

past Mulder on a mission. He was just about to put an end to this madness

himself, when he heard Spender turn his wrath on Diana.

"What did you tell them?"

"Wha--" Her voice was shadowed with exhaustion, and the slightest twinge of

what sounded like pain. "What are you talking about?"

"Mulder and Scully. What did you tell them in that warehouse?"

"I didn't--I told them the truth."

"Damn you! What did you tell them about me?"

"Nothing--ah!" Her little shriek of pain ended abruptly as Mulder burst into

the room and grabbed Spender by the collar. Even then, he couldn't drag the

crazed agent off of his own partner. Spender had his hands locked around her

shoulders, shaking her so violently that her bandage-wrapped head bounced on

the pillow. Shoving hard, Mulder loosened the man's grip and sent him

careening into the nearby wall. Diana groaned, her hand groping blindly for

the nurse's call button on the side of her bed.

Spender didn't stay down for long. He lunged at his adversary, causing

Mulder to stumble back against the bed before regaining his feet. Spender

swung at him, clipping his jaw before he was able to duck. Countering with

his left fist, Mulder pummeled him in the stomach and was rewarded with a

harsh rush of air out the man's nostrils.

Doubled over, Spender had barely a moment to react before Mulder grabbed him

by the neck and slammed him against the wall. Seconds later, the gangly agent

froze as Mulder's pistol bit into the flesh under his jaw.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just shoot you right now. What the

hell do you think you were doing?"

"Fuck you, Mulder. This is between me and my partner."

"The hell it is. This is about to be between you and the cops. Or maybe

you've never heard of a little thing called assault?"

"You really think she's gonna press charges?"

Mulder's eyes narrowed, and he could only stare at Spender in disgusted

amazement, before he heard Diana's hoarse whisper coming from the bed.

"Let him go, Fox."

His gaze whipped around as he incredulously looked over his shoulder.

"I said, let him go."

"I'm not moving an inch," he said, through gritted teeth. "He's one of them.

He always has been. Who is that smoking son-of-a-bitch to you, Spender?"

"Leave my father out of this."

He didn't know what was more shocking, Spender's words or that his suspicions

had been correct all along.

Although his voice was impaired by the fist Mulder had around his throat,

Spender had no trouble voicing his opinion. "What are you gonna do, Mulder?

Arrest me? You can't prove a fucking thing. I've done nothing wrong. No

complaint of yours could ever stick to me."

"How about murder? The theft of human ova--"

"The conspiracy to populate the world with alien hybrids? Jesus, Mulder, you

really have one sick imagination."

"Fox, let him go." Diana tried in vain to sit up. "Please."

Within seconds, the choice was taken away from him. He was seized from

behind by two very strong pairs of hands, his arm twisted behind his back, and

his face forced against the wall until he gave up his weapon. He didn't hear

the orderly's words over the rushing sound in his ears. He didn't hear Diana

explaining to the nurses what had happened, but he could easily imagine what

she said. She was letting him take the blame, letting Spender walk. Just

like always. The burly orderlies didn't release him as Spender straightened

his jacket and headed for the door. And as the bastard walked away, his last

words drifted back as clear as day.

"Be sure to give my regards to Dana."

END (4/5)