TITLE: VALLEYS OF LUCIDITY AUTHOR: XRae EMAIL: Feedback to XRae1013@webtv.net "I *need* you on this." RATED: NC17 for adult subject matter and explicit naked pretzel. Please read accordingly. KEYWORDS: Mulder POV, angst, UST, RST SPOILERS: Naaaaa-da. DISCLAIMER: Never had'em! Never will! ARCHIVE: Ephemeral, yup. Gossamer, yup. Anywhere else, yup...just let me know so I can visit. NOTES: This is a follow-up/sequel to my story "Peaks of Insanity" which can be found here: http://www.geocitites.com/xfanfic1013/fanfic/xrf/poi.html I never intended to write a sequel to "Peaks" but I was convinced by the feedback for that story that I owed it to Mulder and Scully to follow through. This ain't smut, it's an explicitly told human intrest story. Heeeeeeee Hee! **Mere thanks is not enough, but to Lisa and Jenn, "I owe you everything, and you owe me nothing." For the BETA, the friendship, and the needed kicks in the boo-tay, THANK YOU!** SUMMARY: Six months after their expirience in Dayton, Mulder and Scully's relationship is slowly, and silently, falling apart. ------------------------------------------------------- VALLEYS OF LUCIDITY by XRae ------------------------------------------------------- There are moments that can define a lifetime, drops of seconds blended together to create a benchmark, a crossroads, a place from which you realize, with absolute clarity, that the very foundations of your existence have been changed, altered...and there's no going back. I'm not a naive man. I've seen, done, and experienced a multitude of circumstances that have tested my character, my beliefs, and my sanity. Over the course of my life, I have sought, both directly and indirectly, to expose myself to these extreme possibilities, to openly embrace situations that have consistently caused me to redefine, reevaluate and redirect. There were risks, of course. Along the way I've been pillaged by the unforeseen, the very fiber of my innocence burned to ashes by the fire of the truth. Stripped of security, acceptance...love...I rejected the needs of my heart long ago and sought to fill the emptiness inside with the safe and unobtainable; something always outside of myself, always elusive. There are those that stumble down the path of their lives, tripping over the bumps, slipping on the stones. Others crawl down it, so afraid of any hazards along the trail, they're never able to look up from it. The lucky ones walk, enjoying the view, mindful of what may come to pass but not crippled by it. Me. I've run. As fast and as far as I could. Everyday. Blindly. I refused to be lured by the scenery bluring by, always focused on what I *might* discover further down. I stopped for nothing, no one. Those that attempted to slow me down, got pushed aside. Those that couldn't keep up, got left behind. I was alone. Untouchable. Untouched. Until suddenly...there she was. A barrier, placed in my way by destiny or chance, and I ran into her with all the subtlety of a nuclear blast. She stood her ground, brushing off the dust. The devastation known as Fox Mulder never fazed her. I admired her. But I didn't want to. Suspicious of her, awkward around her, and enthralled by her, I rebelled immediately against her presence in my life. Provoked her without mercy, dared her to leave, dared her to stay. Locked us into a perpetual standoff. A giant to a waif. She never even blinked. And I admired her more. To her credit, she explained the situation as plain as she possibly could to a clueless, desperate, selfish man: If I wanted to continue on, she was going with me. That was that. Period. I tried to get past her. She wouldn't budge. She countered every attempt I made. Like a well played game of chess, she anticipated my every move, figured out my feeble stategy and kept my ass in check. I'd run as fast as I could. She'd match my pace in stride. I'd ditch her and not think twice. She always found me, saved me, and forgave me. I'd ignore her. She'd reassert her place in my life with a vengeance. I tried to intimidate, alienate, aggravate, irritate. She refused to let me bully her. Tough. Tender. Courageous. Heart: a walking contradiction of strength and softness, Dana Scully is a force to be reckoned with, and I couldn't escape the impact of her. Eventually, I just stopped trying to. Though, I never made her choice to remain by my side an easy one. For either of us. No matter how hard I've tried to push her away, it's only made her more determined. She may have questioned me, challenged me, and held me accountable along the way, but when I stopped believing in myself, she believed for me; *she* is what kept me focused, kept me sane, kept me breathing. What was once mine alone to bear, became the shared burden of *our* quest. We evolved together; fellow travelers on a mutual journey. Partners bound by trust and a friendship forged in loyalty and respect. My path became hers. I continued on, stronger, braver, because she was there beside me. And somewhere down that road, events and feelings began to coalesce. A primordial sludge of emotional rebirth and life from which a miracle was given breath... Love. I love her. Never expressed. Never explored. Never acknowledged. Still, the effect of it shook me to the core. It healed me. Completed me. Terrified me. So, determined to keep my feelings hidden and my heart safe, I coveted it. Let my longing thrive in forbidden fastasy. Let my devotion be known only in covert narration. I love her. In silence. In secret. In prolific proportion. Running with her, but always away from the feeling she inspires... Until, one horrible and extraordinary night, this life was changed, rendered almost unrecognizable to me in the aftermath. The result of a cluster of stolen moments spent on the dirty carpet of a god-forsaken motel room. I felt. I held. I tasted. I became. Now...nothing is the same. Nothing has changed. But nothing is the same. ------------------------------ Best Western Hotel Oxford, North Carolina Friday 8:07 am I've faced a plethora of truly scary things, but I swear not one comes to mind that quite compares to what I happen to be confronted with this morning: Confinement in a car with Scully on no sleep. Not the best of combinations these days. In fact, it's a recipe for potential disaster and I've been up all night stewing over the ingredients. The trip here bordered on excruciating, the silence so heavy at times I almost expected to see dents in the car when we were finally able to get the hell out of it. The prospect of repeating that drive seems only slightly more favorable than being pinned down under chicken wire and greased with alien Penzoil. Let me channel my Jewish grandmother here: Oy Vey! Having this between us is like trying to constantly side step a gaping chasm when we're together, and no matter how careful I am, somehow I always manage to fall into it. Now, I *try* to keep myself held firmly in check when I'm around her, I really do, but to use an age old excuse, cut me some slack, I *am* a man, and I do have my limitations. (Jesus, even I admit to how lame that sounds) My thoughts get bad enough; those thoughts mixed with Scully within arms reach, get much, much worse. There's only so much I can take, which is probably why things have felt so much more strained lately. My tolerance is shot to hell. I was naive to think that this would eventually get easier, that regardless of my own inner struggles over what happened in Dayton, we'd be ok. I've never pressured her about it, and Scully...well, she gives nothing away. Nothing. If she has any residual feelings over any of it, I'm the last person who would know it. Her emotions are so well guarded it scares the shit out of me. The problem is, we've never talked about it. Any of it. I know she prefers it this way, but to me, it feels like a betrayal, to ignore it like it never happened. She's never come right out and asked for it, that's not Scully's style, but she demands silent absolution from me, and has from the start. The precedent for it was set the very morning after... I remember waking up in bed fourteen hours later, nude, sore, sticky...and free, rested, alive. But I was alone...It shouldn't have surprised me really, given the explosive nature of how we'd come together. I just didn't comprehend the implications. I didn't want to. I felt only relief in those first few moments. My mind was blessedly cleansed, and for a few short seconds, I merely existed, feeling human for the first time in days. It was uncomplicated, and wonderful...and destined not to last. When it hit, when it *really* hit me, I was lost. The events from the night before flooded through my consciousness; an onslaught of shocking recollection crashing like a tidal wave over my mind's eye. I was overwhelmed, raw, my emotions suddenly so close to the surface that, had a needle pricked my skin, I could've watched them bleed out of me. Her scent still clung to me tightly, and for no reason at all, or every reason imaginable, tears sprang to my eyes; my mind wrapped itself around one thought, the only thought that mattered, would ever matter: Scully. It was *Scully*. I pulled myself together enough to shower, dress, and stumble to her door, knowing I had to go to her. When I knocked softly, ready to face her, to thank her, to confess my feelings to her once and for all, it was my partner who greeted me. There was no trace of the woman from the night before. Her complete air of reestablishing the status quo between us said one thing crystal clear and it was irrefutable: The event would remain at best clandestine, and the woman that came to me was not to be discussed. Everything inside of me screamed for her that morning, and God knows, it screams for her still... I know I should have said something to her...God, anything!...consequences be damned. I wanted to. I actually had myself pretty much convinced that I was going to; but when that door opened and I saw her again, it was like I was seeing her for the first time, and I wasn't prepared for that. She smiled at me and she was so fucking beautiful, it hurt too much to look at her, so I had to drop my eyes. I panicked. "You look rested, Mulder," she'd said. "Yeah," I managed to croak, meekly meeting her gaze. She gave me a slight nod and then, just like that, she slid right into normal routine; despite the fact that everything was not normal, it was as far from normal as we'd ever been, and Jesus, that says a lot considering the things we've seen and done together... "I called the airline, Mulder. Our flight is in four hours..." Yadda, yadda, yadda. I just stood there, gaping at her. When I was finally able to shut my mouth, I kept it closed. I haven't opened it since. At least not to say the things I've desperately wanted to. She'd gone into my room on my terms. She had to come out of it on her own. I had no choice but to accept how she chose to classify what took place; no right to question her. If this was what she wanted from me, how could I deny it to her? I owed her everything. I was standing before her a whole person because of what she'd sacrificed for me. Who the hell was I to ask any more from her? At first, I admit it did make things easier. Lack of open communication always does when a situation is still too fresh to contend with, it's only later that it comes back to bite you in the ass. I rationalized her behavior, put it into a nice, neat little box full of excuses and motives...All of which ultimately led me to the same conclusion: Regardless of what had compelled her, I was the narcissistic pig that let her go through with it. If she just wanted to try to forget the whole thing, then it was fine by me. I was too ashamed of myself to challenge her. I hated myself for it then. I hate myself for it now. So, it was in that very instant, standing and shaking in her doorway, that I realized I had to blur my perspective, give it all the surreal quality of a dream or I'd die inside from wanting her so much. I had to separate my partner from the experience or risk loosing my mind. So I did...and thankfully, when I met her eyes again, imagining my straight-laced, no-nonsense Scully, writhing under me, begging me to fuck her, seemed unrealistic and laughable. Outwardly, it worked. We left Dayton behind us; but inside, deep inside, something primal and devastating followed. I couldn't escape it, not forever. It's presence was far too seductive. Scully and denial are constant companions, but for me, it got tougher everyday to keep myself from surrendering to the memory. It wasn't long before every detail of it began to push against the walls I'd carefully constructed around the entire experience, to chip away at any oposition I may have offered against its lure, in some futile hope of maintaining our delicate balance of co-existence. I was plagued with images of her. Pale, hot, tight, moving. My Scully. My angel. I know now how soft her skin is. I know how she feels wrapped around me. How she breathes. Moans. Comes. God. Each recollection further depleted my resistance, making it harder and harder to reconcile her lack of recognition with my powerful need to acknowledge everything. She found freedom from the memory in her denial of it. Me, I became its slave, shackled to every precious, vital moment, and I've had to struggle against those chains ever since. I've often wondered if she's ashamed of me, for what I reduced us both to that night. Regardless of the fact that she made her own choice, did she really understand what it would entail? Did she know how far down I'd need to take her? Is she sorry? I am...I have loved her so completely for so long, dreamed of her, yearned for her, and yes, God yes, I've wanted her. But not the way it was. Not like that. Now, everything feels tainted by it, by this lust that's gripped me, and...Won't. Let. Go. Sometimes...God, sometimes...the feel of her, the smell of her, will just hit me and I'm lost. Aroused. So fucking *lonely* it resonates through my soul. Days are hard, but the nights...nights are unbearable. More times that I can count, I wake up feeling tremors ripping through me, drenched in sweat and cum, and right on the tip of my tongue is her name. Her name. And I can't bring myself to say it, to consciously bring her back into that dark place of want we shared so briefly. I had to take away who she was just so I could touch her. I had to take away who I was just to deserve to. I should have made her understand, but I was afraid. Afraid of everything it could mean. Or worse, what it might not mean to her. It's hard for me to imagine what I would have done had she *not* done it. She saved me. In every way possible. She kept me from a darkness I can't even fathom now. Strong, beautiful, independent Scully gave *to me* the one thing she values above all else: Her control. Just gave it to me, gave me her body and held nothing back... No matter what the circumstance, this alone makes what happened feel like a miracle. Salvation. A hard knock on the connecting door snaps me back to the present. "Yeah," I call out as I make my way across the room. I'm just about to turn the knob when I realize I'm still in my boxers. I shouldn't feel embarrassed by this, but I am. I never *used* to feel modest around her. Yet, I stop cold at the door now. Wary. Feeling as if some how, if she sees me half dressed, she'll suspect I was thinking about her. Stupid, paranoid bullshit. "You about ready?" she says from the other side. "We still have to tie things up at the police station before we head back." "I've gotta get dressed. I'll meet you at the car." "OK, but hurry. I want to stop for coffee." "Yeah, give me ten minutes." I rest my forhead on the door for just a second. She's right on the other side, but she feels a million miles away from me. I'm afraid. Have I lost her? She and I...we shared something so powerful. How can I just walk away from it unaffected? She may seem to have had no trouble in doing this, but I have. I have. I love her. I want her. I can't control it. I can't help it. I can't stop it. It's gonna be a long god damn drive. ------------------------------ Interstate 66 207 miles west of D.C. "Yes, Sir. I'd say it was downright *spooky*." Scully looks down, clearly embarrassed, and I can't help but smile as I switch the phone to the other ear. A.D. Skinner's voice continues to boom loudly into the earpiece. "I bet you're just loving this aren't you, Mulder." Hey, the man indeed knows me well. "That I am, Sir. That I am." My partner shakes her head and glares at me. "Take it easy on her, Mulder. That little leap of logic of hers caught a killer," he says sternly. I glance over to her before turning my attention back to the road. "I promise I'll try, Sir. It's just that I feel so *proud*." That got her. "Mulder, I swear to God--" Skinner is laughing. "Drive safely, Agent, and, uh, good luck." I end the call and throw the phone onto the dashboard. Even out of my peripheral vision, I can tell she's steaming. Silence. More silence. Uh-oh...I'm getting "The Treatment". Time to grovel. "Hey Scully, what goes 'clippity-clop, clippity-clop, clippity-clop, Bang-Bang!, clippity-clop'?" She sighs with infinite patience. "What, Mulder?" "An Amish drive-by shooting! Get it? An *Amish* drive-by shooting." Ahhhhh, yes, there went the corner of her mouth. He shoots, he scores! Silence settles back between us almost immediately, but it's considerably less heavy. It never ceases to amaze me how quick she is to forgive me for acting like an asshole. I know she's well aware of the fact that I tease her sometimes just to push her buttons. I can't help myself. She has nice buttons. Did I really just think that? She has nice buttons?! Can't I get through five minutes anymore without my thoughts veering off toward things like her...buttons? I'm a sick, sick man. This kind of shit is going to get me busted. I gotta stay focused, we aren't even half way home. "What is it, Mulder?" Her voice startles me. "What is what?" "You. What is it? You let this go awfully quick. I was certain you'd be using it for teasing fodder at least until we got back into Washington. It isn't like you to let something this tempting go so soon." Interesting choice of words there, Agent Scully. I glance over to her and catch her eye. "I haven't let it go," I say truthfully, softly. It's been six months, but somehow I'll find a way to connect everything she says and does to that night. Jesus, I want her. She smiles a little shyly, uncertain, and a sudden shudder races down my spine, spiking hot along my nerves, making my balls twitch. The idea that this woman can still seem so pristine and demure to me is arousing as hell. I mean, I've been at the other side of her spectrum, and the contrast within her is astonishing. "Mulder..." "I haven't let it go," I say again, punctuating the words. Scully's an expert at reading between my lines, and I have no doubt she can spot this little subtext in bold print. I try to smile at her, but it feels weak, watery. God, what this woman does to me... I watch as a fleeting flash of apprehension crosses her features. "What are you thinking, Scully?" I ask quietly, wanting to know, but afraid it may be like opening Pandora's Box. Her eyes widen, just a touch, but it's a noticeable crack in her ever-determined poker face. "What do you mean?" she asks quickly, thrown off by the directness of my question. "I'm not thinking anything." I nod, turning away from her, detecting sadness, and not quite understanding why it has to be this way... The road blurs by, and I drive it on autopilot, feeling my emotions rapidly tangling together into thick restraints as the miles evaporate behind us. In only a matter of seconds, my tongue is tied by them... It's times like this that are the hardest for me, when she's so close, and I can do nothing to escape the 'Scully-ness' that permeates the air. Every breath I take seems to bring more of it, her, into me until I'm certain I'll burst from the torment of it. I want her so much it's like this unprompted ache that never, ever goes away. God...*Does* she ever think about it? My minds darts nervously around the thought. **Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!** I shake my head, noticeably. She's too close to me, and I'm too god damn close to the edge. "What, Mulder?" I can't look at her. If I do, she'll know. She'll know and she'll hate me. For being so god damn weak. For *still* not finding the ability to just accept what she gave me and move the fuck past it. "Mulder...?" "I was just thinking and...I...um..." Oh God. I'm choking, all these words I've longed to say sticking in my throat. "Mulder, what? Are you ok?" No! I want to scream at her. I *am not* ok! But, of course, I won't tell her this. I can't. "I was...uh...wondering how you, um, made that connection on the case," I finish lamely, the words tumbling out. Fucking coward. I hear her sigh, and the sweet, soft sound of it causes my hands to shake. "I don't think you'd understand, Mulder," she says quietly. "What wouldn't I understand?" Jesus, my voice sounds..."breathless" probably isn't a term a guy should use, so I'll just call it "winded". I hear her shift in my direction, and I grip the steering wheel tighter. "Well, what was the one question no one was asking about the motive?" she asks hesitantly. "I don't know, Scully. What were the rest of us missing?" Breathe, Mulder. Breathe. She clears her throat. "Well, all of you were approaching this from only one angle, asking the right question, but within the wrong context." "How so?" "You were right to assume that whoever killed Jacob Spencer wanted to eliminate any competition for Ryan Walters. Given this, it was natural to assume those individuals most likely to gain from his death would be our primary suspects." "But you saw something else?" "No." "No?" "No, not at first." "Then how...?" "It was just a feeling really. I know how strange that sounds coming from me." I smile. "Yeah, it sounds great." I can almost see her answering grin, and I can't help but feel a little more at ease. "Enough already," she chides with a small chuckle. "All right, all right. I'm sorry, really. Now spill it. What brought on the Miss Cleo sixth sence routine?" "OK, you asked for it," she says dramatically. "Oooooooo, and you're finally gonna give it to me?" I say, the leer more than evident. "Yeah, if you think you can handle it," she counters, stunning me stupid; the playful, saucy edge to her voice making my groin tighten. "You mean I get to handle it?" I squeak. She groans good-naturedly. "OK, we could keep this up all day." I can't resist. "Speak for yourself, Scully. I'm not as young as I used to be." She snorts, the most ridiculous and wonderful sound I've heard in a long, long time. "Are you finished? All out of your system now, Mulder? May I continue?" I wave a hand in her general direction. "By all means. By all means. What's stopping you?" "Ugh, Mulder...Ok, where was I?" "Suspects," I urge. "Right, ok. Suspects," she says, slipping effortlessly back into G-Woman mode. "The investigation focused on all the right people, *if* all that had directed the killer was a desire to further their own personal agenda: The coach, obsessed enough--" "And clearly whacked." She chuckles. "Yeah, well, discovering his preference for dressing up in woman's clothing was purely an accidental discovery." "The image may have scarred me for life, Scully." "I'll be sure to add a psyche recommendation in my report, Mulder. Sounds like something you may need to seek professional help for," she deadpans. "Thank you, Scully, I appreciate that. I've needed therapy since I had the gross misfortune of walking in on Frohike naked in the Gunman's bathroom a few months ago. I've just been too proud to ask for help." I'm rewarded with a soft laugh. "Mulder, stop. Do you want me to finish or not?" "Finish what?" "Mulder!" We're both snickering now, and Jesus, this feels good. I miss her. I miss us. It's almost impossible for me to feel this relaxed around her anymore, so I'm determined to enjoy it while it lasts..."OK, really. Tell me how you figured it out." She clears her throat, obviously enjoying it, too. "As I was saying before I was so insidiously diverted." I smirk. She continues on, undaunted. "You were all focused on the right people: The coach, who stood to gain positive publicity to counter the circulating rumors threatening his job; the would-be manager, who would receive a substantial percentage of Ryan Walters' signing bonus; Ryan's teammates; and, of course, the most obvious suspect: Ryan Walters, himself." "Scully, this is fun. I'm starting to feel like I'm in an episode of 'Scooby-Doo'." "Call me Velma and you're dead meat, Mulder." "Naaah, Daphne all the way, Scully. Daphne all the way." "I don't have the cleavage." Don't go there, Mulder. I smartly keep all comments to myself, deciding instead to change the subject rather than risk the slap I'd be sure to deserve. "So, you never once entertained my theory about the football entity, did you? Despite the evidence of protoplasmic goo in the locker room?" "Mulder," she says indulgently, "that was Athlete's Foot cream." "Spoilsport." I glance in her direction, and stop short at the sight that greets me. She's smiling at me, shaking her head, her eyes alight with equal parts exasperation and fondness. God, she's beautiful. She is so beautiful...Her smile fades. I lick my lips. She averts her eyes. "Mulder, watch out!" HONK! HONK! Tires squeal in protest as I hastily jerk the wheel, throwing us back into our lane. "Sorry," I mumble, embarrassed. Real subtle there, dumb ass. Banter is one thing. Harmless. That...that was an obvious display of longing. Strictly forbidden. The result of my little indiscretion is immediate. We fall into the same thick, choking silence that never fails to descend upon us following a screw up like this one. It's the norm nowadays, and how fucking sad is that? I should've rented a second car, expense report be damned. I know what being in close quarters with her does to me and it was stupid to let down my guard. What the hell was thinking? Times like this are the most dangerous, when the air of mayhem around us settles just a bit, just enough, to throw me off balance, to make me vulnerable. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb! I want to pull the car over and just scream. I want to pull the car over and just grab the back of her head and-- "Mulder, do you know why none of those individuals felt right to me?" she suddenly asks quietly, seriously. "No, Scully. Why?" I say, matching her tone carefully. "Because Jacob Spencer was clearly killed by someone that honestly felt they were doing it for Ryan. His cause of death wasn't messy or brutal, just coldly calculated and executed swiftly. It was a means to an end, done by someone who took it upon themselves to sacrifice Jacob for Ryan..." She trails off. "But you never suspected Walters? Or his parents?" I say, urging her to continue, anxious to keep us talking. "Of course, I did, but those suspicions were ultimately found to be groundless. Especially after Ryan's alibi proved so rock solid. There's just no way a resturaunt full of witnesses corroborating his whereabouts--" "And those of his immediate family," I add, following. "Right...But do you see where I'm going with this?" "Yeah. I mean, I think so. The suspects we focused on all had legitimate reasons to want to advance Walters' career, but you felt none of them would have gone so far as to commit murder to accomplish it." "Exactly. You all were approaching it from that angle: that Jacob Spencer was murdered because someone didn't want him in the way of Ryan's shot at playing professional ball. Right? I mean, you were looking at it more from the perspective that it was the chance at a free ride to one of the top colleges in the country, possible super stardom, the fame, the money, that these were the incentives that motivated the killer." "Yeah, but it still doesn't explain how you figured out it was Pamela Carson." "Well, I agree she wasn't a likely suspect--" "Scully, the woman lived half a block away, with no obvious connection to Ryan Walters. When we interviewed the people in his neighborhood, she was just another face. How did you figure out who she was?" "I didn't, Mulder. It was just a hunch." "That was a helluva hunch, Scully." She's quiet for a minute, the tension in the car steadily rising. "It was something she said when we interviewed her..." she says carefully. I swallow. "What?" "You asked her what she thought of the possibility of Ryan's parents being suspects. Do you remember how she answered" I think for just a second. "Umm, yeah. She said something to the effect that it was possible given that some parents would do just about anything for their children." "She said some parents 'would stop at nothing', that they'd 'sacrifice anything' for their child. Didn't that strike you as somewhat extreme?" "Well, yeah, but not enough so that I'd have labeled her as a suspect." "Mulder...it was *how* she said it; with such conviction, such passion...Somehow, I just *knew*." "Just like that?" "I can't explain it, Mulder. It was just something in her voice." "A Sunday school teacher, PTA, Brownie leader..." "And, at one time, a pregnant, impressionable fourteen year old ultimately forced by overbearing parents to give up her newborn son for adoption." I shake my head. "Ryan Walters." "They're investigating how she managed to obtain sealed records, but obviously that's the least of what she needs to concern herself with now." "How long had she stalked the family?" "It's a small community, Mulder. She never had to. Both families have lived at their current residences for over 10 years, but the interesting fact there, is that Pamela Carson's family moved to the neighborhood just three months after the Walters. She's obviously had the information for quite some time." "So, what's this have to do with anything, the fact that she was driven to murder by her guilt over abandoning Ryan as a baby?" "No, Mulder," she says quietly. "I knew you wouldn't understand." "Understand what?" "She did it for love," she says evenly. "For love?" "Obviously grossly distorted, but yes. It may not be an extreme most of us would ever take it to, granted, but Pamela Carson was completely convinced it was the right thing to do for a son she was never able to love openly." "Still, Scully...To murder a seventeen year old kid. That's just--" "What?" "Wrong. Sick. Cold blooded. Take your pick." "I agree completely." "So what are we debating here, Scully? Innocent by reason of love induced insanity isn't gonna fly in a courtroom." "True..." She's quiet for a moment. I know her point to all of this must be fast approaching and I can only hope I'm prepared for it..."So, what you're saying is that you don't think love could possibly cause someone to behave extremely?" "Well, no...but..." The hair on the back of my neck suddenly stands on end, my 'Spooky-Sense' on full alert. "Do you, Scully?" She sighs. "Don't misunderstand me, it's absolutely no excuse to commit murder..." "But...?" "I don't know, Mulder. No one would've ever suspected Pamela Carson..." "So the question is, why did you, Scully?" "How she sounded...it...it spoke to me..." "Spoke to you?" "I guess, a part of me...related to her," she finishes softly. "In what way?" I ask slowly. She swallows audibly, stealing herself. I'm actually sweating. "I guess I don't think it's beyond the realm of possibility that, given certain powerful circumstances, a person might behave completely out of character if they thought...if they were driven by..." Oh my God. She stops. I hold my breath. For all my bravado about wanting to bring this out into the open, I'm scared shitless. "Driven by what, Scully?" I prompt, hopeful and terrified. She turns to the window, not facing me. "Nevermind..." "Scully, tell me." "I'm tired, Mulder. I don't want to have this conversation. And...I don't really think you do either. You look like a deer caught in the headlights." "Scully, come on. You started this," I say, defensively. "And now, I'm ending it," she counters immediately, leaving no room for argument. No fucking room for anything. ------------------------- continued in 2/3 ------------------------- ------------------------------ Valleys of Lucidity 2/3 disclaimers in part one ------------------------------ Hoover Building X-Files Office Friday 4:53 pm "Why are we here again, Scully?" I ask, leaning against the desk and crossing my arms. She rolls her eyes and continues to scour the desktop for her missing paper clips. "I want to turn this in, Mulder," she says without looking at me. "Skinner isn't even expecting our report until Monday," I point out. "I just don't want it hanging over my head all weekend, all right? I want to turn it in and be done with it." "Scully--" "Stop trying to read more into it, Mulder," she says in that frustrating way that always tells me there *is* more to read into it. Suddenly, she spots her Holy Grail, and in her haste, yanks the box up so quickly about 3/4 of the paper clips fly in every direction. I duck for cover, but still get nailed by a least half a dozen projectiles. "Ow! What the hell is wrong with you!" She bites her lower lip, obviously fed up. I see it and flinch, biting my own for an entirely different reason. She looks up at me sharply. "Will you stop it." "Stop what?" She expels an irritated breath and busies her hands with shuffling her papers. I can't help but notice they're shaking. Jesus, all of this because of what happened in the car? Granted, I wasn't at my most mature, but surely she can't be this mad at me over it. She looks up to me, the report clutched tightly in her hands. The expression on her face actually causes me to scoot back on the desk away from her. "I'm taking this upstairs," she mutters before turning on her heel and walking briskly out of the office. The door slowly closes, but it takes my mouth a few more seconds to follow its example. I stand up and move around the desk, slumping into the chair. I tilt back, my eyes closed and my mind racing... Oh boy. This is great. This is just fucking great. God damn it! It was the proximity. Three and half hours in the god damn car, with that conversation heavy in the air between us. I mean, Jesus, it was unavoidable. Let me do my best Han Solo here: "It's not my fault!" Damn it! It usually takes a whole lot less to pump up the jam, so to speak, so having that conversation, coupled with her right there beside me, left it next to impossible for me not to embarrass myself. My sense of her was heightened, amplified. Every subtle shift she made registered on my overly sensitized Scully Richter scale like a shock wave. Sighs vibrated. Position changes tortured. At one point, she tilted her head over to rest against the window, and just the sight of her exposed, vulnerable neck made me salivate. Forty-seven miles from Washington, she took off her shoe and crossed her legs to massage her foot, her skirt hiking up noticibly in the process. When my mouth gaped open, she hastily dropped her foot back to her pump, but the damage was done: For the remainder of the trip, the only thing enjoying the ride was my dick, which had swelled in appreciation at the sight of the two added inches of visible Scully-thigh. I felt her eyes on me more than once, and every time, a jolt of awareness shot through me in response, making me hotter, harder. She had to notice. She had to. There were points when, I swear, from space you could have zeroed in on our position using my erection as a homing tower. Christ, no wonder she's pissed at me. Something has to give. Something, anything, has to fucking give! I don't know how to deal with this. Honestly. If my reactions seem adolescent, it's because I'm coming at this from that perspective. I've never been in love. Not like this. I have absolutely no frame of reference, nothing to help me from making a complete jackass out of myself. Ever since Dayton, I just don't know how to *be* when I'm alone with her. I feel awkward, shy, angry, horny...Most of all though, I just feel lost. Anchorless. I alternate between wanting to run for my life away from her and needing to throw her down on the closest available surface and fucking the life outta her. Why? Why does it have to be like this? Why can't I fucking control myself around her? I feel like an addict in withdrawal. I'm sick with craving for her. I drop forward, resting my cheek on the cool surface of the desktop, anger and confusion so heavy in my head, I can't lift it. My temples throb, too many thoughts pushing against them, competing for the space between my ears. This is torture. One minute were almost normal again, the next she starts talking in code. Why can't she just come out and tell me how she feels? Why try to draw cryptic parallels to a fucking murderer in order to explain herself to me? I *know* she behaved out of character. I *know* she took extreme measures to save me from myself. Is she trying to justify this to me or to herself? Six months. Six months and nothing. How can she possibly be shocked that all it took was watching her mouth move over words like "love" and "passion" and "want" to reduce me to little more than a throb of need? If she wanted to address this, doesn't she understand? Unless she speaks to me like a god damn two-year-old, I'm not about to comprehend anything beyond the fact that she's thinking about "IT". I can't decipher symbolism. I can't connect the dots. Not when every word out of her mouth is being filtered through a fog of lust. I need it in terms of "See. Spot. Run." For example: "Mulder. I. Wanted. It." "Mulder. I. Hated. It." "Mulder. I. Hate. You. For. It." "Mulder. I. Hate. Myself." "Mulder. I. Want. Your. Cock. Buried. In. Me. Now!"...Yeah ok, this last one is of my own wishful invention, but you get the picture. Things would have been so much different if she just would have listened to me that night. I told her there was no possible way I'd be able to keep it on the level I needed to, and it's more than apparent, to me at least, that I haven't. In the beginning, I was just so grateful to her, I didn't want to notice how much this really mattered. While I was inside of her, I didn't give a shit about the consequences of what we were doing. The moment I saw her on that floor, smelled her in the air, there was no question as to whether or not I was going to take her. It was only when she started to say my name did I waiver, knowing that if she came to me as herself, I would fall completely apart. The knowledge that it was Scully, spread open and dripping wet for me, was almost my undoing. I couldn't take intimacy at that moment, especially with her, the one person I craved it with more than anything. I knew what I needed, she knew it too. But how was I supposed to make her understand that it couldn't be about "us"? In the end, I never got the chance to try. I surrendered completely to my lust, and demanded she do the same, not once wondering if it was something she'd been prepared to do. I didn't care. All I wanted to do was fuck and fuck and fuck this beautiful woman untill I couldn't see straight, untill everything gripping my fragile state of mind was burned to nothing by the fire inside of her body. It was later, the morning after, that I allowed myself to fully appreciate the magnitude of what had taken place; not just the experience itself, but the fact that it was *Scully* who had given it to me. I was astonished by her selflessness, so humbled by it...but by then it was too late. The walls between us were already back up and I was too afraid to try and scale them. And, on top of all of it, I had to somehow come to real terms that the Scully I knew had layers to her that I hadn't even begun to realize, layers that fed into every esoteric fantasy I'd ever had of her and then some. She was a god damn revelation that night; wild, passionate, and so, so fucking hot. Is it wrong of me to wonder where this side of her came from? To need to know, to understand, this part of her? I want the truth. Her truth. I can't do this anymore. The question is, can I control myself enough to confront her? Do I have the balls to actually try? Do I really have a choice anymore? She picks this moment to open the office door and stride purposely back inside, doing her utmost to acknowledge me as little as possible. "Mulder, I'm going home," she says heading for her coat. "Skinner said he'd--" "Why did you do it, Scully?" the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, riding the momentum of the thoughts she inadvertently interrupted. Now it's out there. I can't take it back. She turns from the coat rack and sighs. "What?" She rolls her eyes, ready to dismiss the question. "Mulder, I *told* you. I just wanted to get the damn report--" I stand up, coming around to the front of the desk. "No. Not that. I know why you did that." She crosses her arms in front of her. "Yeah, so I wouldn't have to--" "See me," I finish for her. "Mulder, that's ridiculous." "No," I say, shaking my head. "It's the truth. If the report is turned in, I'll have no excuse to contact you over the weekend." I can tell by the startled, guilty expression on her face that I'm right. "Mulder..." "No, that's ok. It's fine. Whatever." I take a small step toward her. "I don't give a shit about that." She tilts her head to the side. "Then what are you talking about?" I swallow hard, my heart pounding. "I want to know why you did it." Her brows knit together. "Did what?" I dig down, way down deep inside of me, far past my courage, and into that intangible reservoir of blind bravery that I tap into in order to face things like Sam's fate, alien colonization...and the terrifying possibility of loosing my only friend to the words I'm about to say..."Dayton," I manage to whisper hoarsely. "Tell me why." I watch as the blood drains from her face. She closes her eyes for just a second and shakes her head slightly as if to clear it. "What did you say?" My entire body trembles, I swear even my hair follicles are shaking. "Dayton, Scully," I force past the tightness in my throat. "Why?" She steps back, slumping against the wall behind her, for support probably. "Don't do this to me, Mulder." I advance a few more steps, unable to stop myself now that it's begun. One way or another, she has to answer me. She's *going* to answer me. There's no going back now, and I'm not about to risk loosing her without knowing the truth. "I want to know, Scully. I need to know." She holds my gaze steadily. "No, Mulder," she whispers. I stand in front of her, close but not touching, yet even at this proximity, I can feel my restraint starting to slip. I've held so much back. It hurts. God, it hurts, and I fucking can't stand it anymore. "Do you think about it, Scully?" She looks away from me. "Do you?" "Mulder, stop." She takes a deep, shakey breath. "Answer the question." She turns her head up toward me, her jaw set. "All right then, no, I don't think about it." "Liar!" I practically snarl at her. She flinches back. "You're a god damn liar," I say quieter. "It's the truth," she says evenly. "Bullshit, Scully." I step into her space, inches from her face. Her eyes widen but she doesn't look away or back down. "Mulder, listen to me--" "No," I say, my voice raw with emotion. "Why can't you be honest with me?" "I *am*," she whispers fiercely. "I can't believe you're even bringing this up." I place both hands flat against the wall on either side of her, effectively pinning her in place. "What?! *You* brought this up, remember? In the god damn car." "No...I was just...I..." She stops and drops her had down. I follow the movement, bending my knees and leaning down, forcing her to maintain eye contact. Her bottom lip trembles, and arousal slams into me at the sight of it. My stomach muscles ripple and clentch in response, causing my hips to jerk forward slightly. Blood surges to my cock and I barely keep myself from thrusting into her. "Scully..." I whisper. "Please talk to me about it. I'm loosing my mind. Please." Her spine stiffens. "You need to step back, Mulder," she says with so much control I want to slap her. Or kiss her. Or both. "No." My desperation is growing stronger by the second. So is my desire. I'm helpless against it. God, I want to touch her. I want her to touch me. "What do you want me to say?" she asks. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying like hell to get some control over myself. "The truth, Scully. I want the truth. I want to know why you came to me that night. I want to know if it...God, Scully." "Are you purposely trying to humiliate me?" My eyes fly open at this. "What?" I ask incredulously. "Humiliate you? No! God, no. Why would you even think that?" Her expression hardens and she looks away from me. "All right. If it'll put a stop to all of this, then I'll answer your question." The coolness in her voice causes me to drop my arms and step back from her. If she's about to lie to me, she is sure as hell going to do it while looking me straight in the eye. I move my hands to my hips, making no attempt at hiding my very obvious erection. I silently dare her to look down, but she studiously ignores it. Finally, I nod at her, "OK, let's have it." She presses her lips into a thin line for just a second before speaking. "I was afraid for you, Mulder," she says quietly. "I mean..." Her eyes flicker to somewhere above my head. "I felt you were a danger to yourself, and as your partner--" I can't help the sharp bark of laughter that breaks from between my lips. "Oh my God, Scully. Don't even say it. Please don't insult me, don't insult yourself, by saying it was your 'duty' as my partner. I *have* worked with other women before, and they never took it upon themselves to--" "Well, if the secretarial pool is to be believed, you fucked those agents, too. To tell the truth, Mulder, I was beginning to feel left out." My mouth falls open. Literally. Set phasers on STUN. She seems to almost relish my reaction, which makes this moment feel all the more surreal. "What? Did you honestly think I'd never been cornered in the ladies restroom and regaled with the stories of your notorious escapades?" I find my voice and glare at her. "No, I just assumed you, of all people, knew me better. Or, at the very least, you were smart enough to recognize bullshit." Her eyes sharpen, but she visibly supresses her anger. "I'm not going to do this to myself." She takes a deep breath. "Mulder, if you need to beat this to death with a stick, then go right ahead. But leave me out of it. I'm not going to argue with you, and I am not going to exchange insults. Whatever my reasons, they're my own, and are really none of your business." She turns to the door, managing to get it about a third open before I move in, reaching out one arm and slamming it back shut, the wood protesting loudly at the slap of my palm against it. This time, I purposely tower over her. She licks her lips and swallows nervously, my obvious display of dominance taking her off guard. My breathing grows shallow, my eyes drawn down to the wild flutter of her pulse drumming against the soft skin of her neck. Oh Jesus. I fight a wave of dizziness and sway toward her. Her hands come up immediately, meant to keep me from falling into her, but her palms land flat on my chest, and the contact stuns us both. I shudder violently and she snatches them back, dropping them to her sides. I'm practically panting in her face. "None of my business, Scully? *None of my business*?" "Having sex with someone doesn't entitle you to their personal feelings, Mulder." "Well, it sure as fuck *should*!" I say, my voice cracking with emotion. "I'm not even going to get into the absurdity of your statement. Just answer me this: *What* was that bullshit in the car, Scully, if not you trying like hell to share your personal feelings? To *finally* tell me why you'd..you'd..you'd offer yourself to me like some god damn 'All-Mulder-Can-Eat' buffet. Don't take your anger out on me because you didn't have the guts to go through with it and tell me the fucking truth." "Maybe, I just found it too difficult to carry on an intelligent conversation with your erection, Mulder." My face instantly blazes hot and I see the corresponding sparkle of triumph in her eyes. My only consolation is that she's blushing just as furiously. And god damn it, if I'm not turned on by the fact that she noticed it! OK. At this point, I got nothing to loose. I may not be the smartest man in the world for what I'm about to do, but I know Scully well enough to know it takes something extreme to crack her armor... "What erection, Scully?" Lightning fast I grab her hand and force it to the bulge in front of my pants. "*This* one?" I've shocked her. Jesus, I've shocked us both. Her lips part on a gasp, and like a chain reaction, I whimper and thrust into her shaky hand, pressing it firmly between my painfully hard length and my suddenly sweaty palm. "Don't do this to me, Mulder," she whispers. "Please, don't do this." "Do what? I'm just...Fuck, I don't know what I'm trying to do, Scully." I push into her again, leaning my mouth down to her ear and brushing my lips against the delicate lobe as I speak. "Feel that? It's what *you* do to me." She shivers. I've wanted her to touch me so badly, the burning reality of it is almost too much. I move against her, so hot and hard, I have to grit my teeth to keep from exploding. I take a harsh gulp of air and drop my head to her shoulder. She makes a strangled little sound in her throat and her fingers twitch against my length. Fuck. Fuck! God, I want her! I bring my hands to her hips, my fingers digging into her soft curves possessively. To my astonishment, her hand remains against me. "God, Scully..." I can't stop myself. I open my mouth and give into the blinding impulse to lick her neck from top to bottom. "MMmmmulder...I can't...I can't do this again. Please...Oh God." "Yessss," I rasp. "Yes, you can." I curl my arms around her and force a leg between both of hers. "Yes, you can, Scully. You can." God, she smells so good. She *feels* so good. I slide one hand down to cup her ass, trailing in under her perfect little cheek. It isn't enough. Boldly, I drive my fingers between her legs from behind. Even through the layers of fabric, I can feel her heat. I moan against her skin, and nip it sharply with my teeth. I want to fucking devour this woman! "Mulder..." Her breath hitches. I feel her grip tighten on me as she pushes herself back into my hand...Oh yeah...Yeah, that's it. That's it, Scully. Let it go...Let it go and let me *finally* fucking love you...love you...love you. Her head falls back and I scrape my teeth against her vulnerable skin, my bottom lip flattened open and trailing moisture along the path of my feasting mouth. "Mulder...Mulder, please!" The tone of her voice takes a moment to reach me...But it does. There's something in the sound of it. Something...Something wrong. With some effort, I leave the moist haven of her neck and draw back slightly to see her face. Her eyes are closed, squeezed shut...Not with the passion I'd hoped for and expected...She looks tortured. I shake my head, trying to clear it, arousal determined to override any concern. Confusion sweeps over me, creating a violent tangle of emotion fighting for dominance over my body and mind. Don't stop, Don't stop. Don't stop!, my cock begs me, and fuck, I wanna listen to it! But something isn't right. With a groan, I step back from her, shaking, drawing my limbs away from their intimate explorations. It's fucking *painful*. I swear a bullet ripping through my flesh actually pales in comparison to this. Her hand slides slowly down and off my slacks. I bite my lip hard, whimpering at the loss of her tentative touch. She opens her eyes. We stand there, facing each other. She looks shell-shocked. I feel sick to my stomach. "Scully..." I start, before realizing that I have no idea of what to say to her. She is silent, obviously gathering her thoughts together enough to demand a transfer. This is it. She'll leave over this. Oh God! What have I done? What have I done? What have-- "Mulder--" "Scully, please don't leave. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She shakes her head. "What? No...Mulder...I'm not, I'm not going to leave. I just..." "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." "Stop. Just listen. Just listen to me." I nod, too afraid to speak, and not trusting myself to even try. "Mulder...I know what happened between us...in Dayton...was very intense. For both of us." She stops and takes a deep breath. "But I won't let you do this to me. I can't be some kind of...fuck toy for you now when you want one. It goes against every reason I had for going to you in the first place." It takes me a moment to process her words. Is this what she thinks? That the only reason why I want her is because I'm...Oh fuck. My mind flickers over the events of the last few minutes and my legs almost buckle under the weight of my shame. Of course. Why *wouldn't* she think I see her that way? "You don't understand, Scully. You just...You don't understand." "What do I need to understand? I can't believe you'd honestly think I'd *want* to go through that again." I open my mouth, hurt and humiliated, but she shakes her head. "Oh for God's sake, Mulder. I'm not referring to the sex. I mean after that. You couldn't even look me in the eye the next morning. Do you have any idea of how that made me feel?" "I couldn't...? I couldn't...?" I'm stuttering, completely dumbfounded. What the hell is she talking about? I wore my heart on my sleeve that morning, she just didn't look at me long enough to notice it bleeding down my arm. I need to say something. I need to tell her she's got it all wrong. Why won't my mouth open? I step in closer to her. "Mulder, no. Enough, please." Her voice catches. She sounds defeated. "Isn't it enough that it happened? Isn't it enough that I let you use me--?" "What?!" She looks at me, her embarrassment palpable. "No, it's ok. I let you. I *wanted* you to, but you can't expect me to--" My anger is immediate and absolute. "Is that what you think? That I *used* you?" "Mulder--" I move away from her in two long strides. "How dare you!" I shout, turning to face her startled expression. "How *dare* you reduce what happened to something as trivial as me using you to get off! You know what, Scully? Fuck you!" Emotion clogs my throat, and god damn it, I'm gonna cry in front of her. "Fuck you, " I say, my voice cracking on the words as two hot tears burn down my cheeks. I think she may have just broken my heart. I close my eyes, agony washing over me. The feel of her cool, smooth hands on my heated face snap my eyes back open. She stands in front of me, her expression a mix of confusion and sadness. "Mulder..." she says quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't say that to hurt you. I just...I mean...how would you prefer me to put it?" I sob, falling into her, wrapping my arms around her in a sloppy embrace. "It wasn't like that. It wasn't like that, Scully." "Alright, Mulder, ok." Her arms slide loosely around my waist. "Why would you even say that?" I say, pulling her tightly against me. She sighs heavily. "I guess...I just didn't think there was much of a difference between me and the woman you brought back from the bar." "Jesus, Scully, I didn't even know her fucking name. How can you possibly put yourself into the same category?" "Maybe because what you ended up doing with me, you originally intended to do with her," she says a little defensively. "No...I could never have...with her, like...like *that*. No. It may have felt that way...but...it meant *everything* to me, Scully. Because it was *you*, and..." I drop my arms and move from her suddenly, frustrated and angry with myself. "I can't...I don't know how to say what I need to say." She steps toward me again. "Mulder--" "No, Scully. Don't. Don't get too close to me for a minute, ok? I swear to God, I can't control myself when you do." "Ok," she says softly. We stand there for a long moment, the air between us charged. A million things I've longed to tell her swirl inside my head, each and every one of them fighting to get to my mouth first, effectively creating a stopper in my throat that prevents even one of them from escaping. It's too overwhelming. I break eye contact and look to the floor, trying to remember how to speak. As always, she saves me. "Do you still want to know?" I look up to her, tears still in my eyes. "Wha-What?" Her own eyes grow moist. "You wanted the truth, right? "Scully, you don't have to--" "I didn't do it because I'm your partner, or even because I'm your friend. I went to you that night because I couldn't bare to see you in such agony, especially when I could take away that pain by giving you something that I wanted you to have." "Oh Scully..." "Don't you see, Mulder? There isn't one part of me that I'd ever refuse to give you. There isn't one part of me that isn't already yours. And that includes my heart." I hug my arms to my chest, bringing one hand up to cover my mouth in hopes of containing my response to her admission. The sob escapes from between my fingers anyway...I can feel it, her words reshaping my very soul, and it's the most amazing and painful and devastating thing I've ever experienced. I'm sure I'll collapse under the sweet, heavy weight of the honesty in her eyes. I try to take a few steadying breaths. "Scully, I...I've never been very good at this." "I don't expect you to say anything, Mulder." Despite the disappointment I see in her eyes, I know she means this. "Well, you should." She gives me a trembling smile. "OK, then. Tell me how you feel." I manage to grin back. "Yeah, let's start with the easy stuff first." "Mulder--" "No," I say, shaking my head. "I can do this." I sway on my feet, the emotion pumping through me almost crippling. "I need...I want...I want you to know." The air rushes out of my lungs and I step backward to lean on the edge of the desk, no longer trusting my weak legs. "Know what, Mulder?" she urges softly. I swallow hard and stare at her for a few moments, drawing strength from her brave vulnerability. "You have to know, Scully. What happened, it...it wasn't what I wanted." Her mouth opens slightly, her eyebrows drawing up. "It wasn't what you wanted?" she asks in a small, startled voice. She looks down, away from me. I realize instantly that she's misunderstood. "Wait, wait, wait. That didn't come out right--" She doesn't even hear me. "How can you say that? That was--" "The fuck of the god damn century, Scully." She stops cold and looks back up, clearly stunned. I smile a little shyly at my outburst and she grins back sheepishly. "Oh..." she says, quirking her brow. I keep smiling. "Oh..." She tilts her head to the side. "Wait a minute, Mulder. That's not saying much considering the century just started." I snicker and shake my head. "Ok, Ok. How about the fuck of the Eon?" "That just doesn't have the same ring to it," she smirks. "Best fuck ever?" She nods. "Yeah well, I'd say I get your point, but that would be a redundant statement given the subject matter." Our smiles fade as I regard her seriously for just a second. "How about I just tell you that it was the most incredible sexual experience I've ever had, *despite* the circumstances. Which in and of itself says something amazing." "Then what did you mean before?" "I wanted more," I tell her softly. "For us." "For us?" "For *you*. I...Scully, you have to know that...that I'm capable of more than that." "More than what, Mulder?" "More than, than...rutting on the fucking floor like a god damn animal, " I finish, flustered. She walks toward me. This time, I don't stop her. "I know you are, Mulder." "Scully..." She leans into me, her head against my chest. "Show me." I wrap my arms around her, savoring her softness. "Show you?" She draws back and locks her gaze to mine, her eyes impossibly blue. "What you're capable of. Show me how you want it to be." "Now?" I squeak. "Oh Mulder," she laughs softly. I swallow hard and just stare at her, my heart pounding as her small hands move slowly around my neck. She pulls me down and brushes her lips across my cheek before letting me go. Then, she turns, moving to gather her things. I stand there, unable to speak, unable to move, hardly able to breathe. At the door, she turns back to me. "I went to you, Mulder...When you're ready to, come to me." The door closes softly behind her. Numbly, I walk around to the chair behind the desk, slumping into it again. I do the only logical thing a man who's just been given everything can do, especially if he wonders if he's too afraid to take it... I fold my arms across the desktop and lower my head down. I cry for a long, long time. -------------------------- continued in 3/3 -------------------------- ------------------------------ Valleys of Lucidity 3/3 disclaimers in part one ------------------------------ Fox Mulder's apartment Saturday 6:58pm "Scully" "What are you wearing?" "My old Catholic school uniform and a smile," she replies innocently. "Oh Scully, you *know* what I like," I say, an uneasy timbre lacing the words. I feel insecure all of a sudden, stupid for calling her. She seems to sense this and cuts right to the chase. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you, Mulder." "Scully, you're a terrible liar." She chuckles softly. "Yeah, ok. I *was* expecting to hear from you. Are you ok?" "No," I sigh into the receiver, relief flooding through me. "God, you have no idea how good that feels." "What? The fact that you feel terrible?" "No, just being honest with you about it. I haven't been ok for six months." She pauses for just a second. "I know the feeling," she says softly. "Hey, you're right, that does feel pretty good." "I don't know why I called." "Yes, you do." "I just thought...I don't know, that maybe it would be easier for me like this." "And is it?" "Truthfully? No. Hearing your voice makes it just as hard." "Makes what just as hard?" she asks playfully. "Scully!" She giggles. "I'm just trying to break the tension." "Keep saying things like that and you'll be *relieving* the tension." "Oh Mulder..." "Yeah, I know. I think I had a similar conversation in tenth grade." "Were you as nervous back then?" "Not even close." "Mulder," she says, the tone of her voice clear and soft. "It's just me." I expel a shaky breath. "That's what scares me, Scully." "I would never hurt you, you know that." Tears fill my eyes. "I know..." I whisper. "Then what are you afraid of?" "I don't know...Everything. That I'll never find a way to make you understand." "You said that before, but you've yet to tell me what it is that you think I can't handle." "Scully, I don't doubt you. It's me. I don't know how to do this." "Tell me what it is that you think we're doing." "I...We're..." I can't continue. I'm at a complete loss for the right words. How do I tell her that I love her so much my soul aches? How do I explain that I may have had the nerve to fuck her but I'm too god damn afraid to make love to her? How do I make her understand that the magnitude of what I feel truly frightens me? "Do you want to know what I think?" she asks. "Always." "I think you may be trying too hard. I mean, you've obviously had it in your mind for some time to bring all of this up, but now that you're faced with it, it's much more difficult than you expected. Give yourself a break, Mulder" I close my eyes. "I'm just a chicken-shit." "No, you aren't. At least you had the courage to bring it out in the open. If it had been left up to me, I'd have hidden behind excuses and my own insecurity until this ripped us completely apart." I swallow, taken aback by her openness, and envious as hell. "My reasons were selfish, Scully. I only confronted you because *I* couldn't stand it anymore. I wanted to know how you felt, but it wasn't to ease any suffering you may be experiencing. It was to ease my own." "I don't care." "How can you say that?" I ask incredulously, opening my eyes. "Mulder, I've been convinced this entire time that you must be so ashamed of me. If your reasons were motivated by selfishness, it makes little difference to me. At least now that we're talking about this, I can just come right out and ask." "Scully, why on Earth would you think I'd be ashamed of you?" "Are you saying that you aren't?" "Of course, that's what I'm saying. The only person I'm ashamed of is myself. I'm ashamed I didn't have the balls to tell you how I felt that next morning, that I couldn't even tell you how much it meant to me. I'm ashamed that by not having had the courage to say those things, you've obviously doubted yourself, and you don't deserve to suffer because of my insecure bullshit." "I didn't suffer because of that, Mulder. I had no illusions about what was going to happen when I chose to go to your room." "I took it too far." "No, you went as far as you needed to go, and I followed willingly. I just wasn't prepared for the intensity of it, or my own reaction to it. It scared me afterward. If I suffered because of what happened, it was only because I was sure that you'd never be able to look at me the same way again. And when you seemed so distant the next morning, I just...I shut down over the whole experience. I couldn't bear the thought that somehow, I didn't...I don't know, 'measure up' doesn't seem right, but that was the way it felt. I was so out of control that night--" "You were," I say emphatically, a sharp spark of desire igniting at the memory. "You were and I *loved* it, Scully. God, I loved it." "I thought that maybe in the light of day, that side of me...disturbed you." "No. No, I was awed by it, by you. When I saw you again that next morning, it all just overwhelmed me, and..." I sigh. "Listen to me, don't ever doubt how I see you." "I know how you see--saw--me, Mulder. I've been Saint Scully to you since we first met, some kind of sexless enigma that you placed on a pedestal so high, you can't even begin to make out my flaws." "You've *got* to be kidding. That's not how I see you," I say with astonishment. "Then, how do you see me?" she asks gently and I realize instantly that I walked right into this one. "That was smooth, Scully." "Thank you. Now answer the damn question, Mulder." I close my eyes..."You mean, how do I see you outside of the fact that I think you're an intelligent, courageous, passionate, and beautiful woman?" I stop for just a second. "Do you honestly think what happened in Dayton changed that? Scully, what you gave to me that night...it only reinforced it. You are so..." I force myself to keep my voice steady. "You are so *precious* to me," I whisper intensely, my face hot and my heart banging against my ribs. "Mulder..." "You are, Scully, you always have been, you always *will* be." She is silent for a long moment, breathing with what sounds like some effort. "I was so afraid, Mulder," she says softly. "I thought I could just keep what happened separate from my...feelings...for you." "I...I thought the same thing," I admit to her. "But, it hasn't worked out that way, has it?" "No," I whisper to her, the information still feeling secret regardless of the fact that it's now a shared confession. "It hasn't. Not for me...There are so many things I swore to myself I'd say to you if I finally had the chance, Scully, and now that you're giving it to me, I'm fucking terrified." "I know you are." "Jesus, you were...you *are* so...Scully, I can't stop thinking about it. Does that make me a prick?" "What do you think about?" she asks breathlessly. Images and feelings assail my consciousness. "Oh God." "Tell me." I slide from my sitting position on the couch down to the cold floor, my breathing fast, fear pumping through my veins. "I want..." "What, Mulder?" I take in a large gulp of air. "I want--No, fuck that--I *need*, I need you." "In what way?" The phone almost slips from my sweaty palm. "Please, Scully. Don't make me say it," I beg. "You need to, Mulder. If we have any hope of going forward, you've got to trust me." "You know I do," I breath against the receiver. "Not with this, you don't." "What do you want from me, Scully?" I ask helplessly. "I told you, I'm no good at this shit. I don't have relationships with women, I have 'arrangements'. There isn't much need for discussion outside of stating position preferences." She sighs. "You know, Mulder, I thought for sure that I'd eventually loose you to my inability to admit openly that I," she swallows audibly, "I *want* you. Do you hear me, Mulder? I. Want. You." I suck in a breath, my stomach rolling with the sudden terror and desire that courses through me like a jolt of lightening. "Oh, Scully..." I whisper raggedly. "It isn't worth the risk, Mulder. All this silence, all this holding back. Do *you* think it is?" "I...No," I tell her softly. "No, it's not worth loosing you, if that's what you're asking me." "Do you think I'm not afraid? Do you think the thought of rejection doesn't terrify me, too?" "I'd never reject you..." Fat tears slide down my face. "No?" "No..." "Tell me why." When I remain silent, trying to collect my thoughts, she speaks again, "You can't, can you." It's a statement. "Where does that leave us?" "You just don't--" "Understand," she says sharply. I lean my head on my chest, and grip the phone tight. "You think this is easy for me?" "No, I--" "I never hoped, Scully. I never let myself even start to. I'm *used* to wanting what I can't have. It may be pathetic, but I've made myself very comfortable and safe in that. I'm not happy, it's a lonely existence, but it's what I know, it's what I've always known." "Mulder..." "No, wait, let me finish. You have to realize that the possibility of you and I...being together--I've never wanted anything as much as I want this. Nothing. I know I'm having problems here, but given my track record, how can you be surprised?" "Stop--" "Maybe I'm too afraid of hurting you, too terrified that you'll leave me, or that somehow, the words will never come and you'll get tired of waiting for them. You act like I don't know what I want and that's bullshit. I do! I--" "Mulder, STOP!" Her command startles me. "What?" "Tell me why you called." "Wha--Why?" I ask, confused by this sudden shift. "You called for a reason. Didn't you?" "Well, I uh...I..." I stammer helplessly, caught off guard. "Mulder, *why* did you call?" "I just wanted to talk." "To what end?" "What do you mean, 'to what end'?" "You called hoping you'd find some magical combination of words that would somehow give you the courage to make your next move. You called hoping I'd send you some kind of signal telling you that it was ok, that if you came to me tonight I wouldn't send you away." I shudder, the truth of her words resonating through me. "Yes," I admit to her softly. "Mulder, just ask me," she says, equally soft. Oh God. "Scully," I breathe... "Ask me." "I want...I want to, to be with you. God, please. Let me be with you." She exhales harshly, the sound bordering so close to a moan it causes my entire body to tremble. "Yes, Mulder..." "Oh God, Scully," I say, standing on my suddenly weak legs. "I'm on my way..." I don't wait for a response. I place the phone carefully back on its cradle and for a good minute or two, I just stand there, staring at the floor, too shaken to move. OK...I guess it's time to cowboy up. I turn, determined to ignore the quiver in my belly, and swagger like John Wayne toward the shower, flipping on the stereo as I go. 'It's the end of the world as we know it...and I feel fine,' the music assures me as I make my way to the bathroom. Truer words were never sung. ------------------------------ Dana Scully's apartment 11:07pm The floorboard creaks, announcing my arrival, the sound echoing through the still, dark apartment. Each step I take toward her feels like a journey in and of itself. It's as though time itself has slowed; this moment, so heavy with its importance, seems to weight the very elements down. I wonder if she can feel it, too, the static in the air, clinging to the molecules that drift through the space separating us. I could detect it the instant I closed the front door behind me. I could smell it, the electricity, the current like a lightning strike in slow motion, running between us, the energy and power of it rising steadily as our proximity increases. Just as she had no illusions coming to me that night, I have none going to her now. Heart pounding, blood thundering in my veins, I feel as turbulent, as unpredictable, as the path of a hurricane; and God, just as dangerous, because I want her so much it shocks me. At the threshold of her bedroom door, I reach my point of crisis, the knowledge of what's about to happen awakening a hunger in me the likes of which I've never known. This is it. I never dared dream this would be my ultimate destination, but all the running I've done in my life was to find my way Right Here. This is the place where my world shatters, where everything I've known before will pale in comparison to what I'll understand after. I place my hands on each side of the wall bordering her door and grip the frame tightly. Leaning forward until my body is flush against the hard siding in front of me, I rest my cheek against the surface, my breath hot and humid against the wood. Oh God. I know what's waiting for me on the other side, and I'm on fire; the white-hot burn of almost painful need flares across every inch of my fevered flesh. Every inch. Every fucking inch. One hand slides to the knob, slowly, and with purpose. Closing my eyes, I turn it carefully, the quiet broken by the opening click. The sound vibrates through me, amplified in the space between heartbeats and breath. I push the door open with my senses laid bare, the nerves twisting through me humming with ravenous arousal. I've never felt so consumed with want, never felt so driven by the ache to taste another's skin. Her skin. *Scully's* skin. The first thing that hits me is the scent of the room. Even with my eyes closed, my awareness is so focused, and the potency of it is so strong, my breathing escalates immediately, my lungs desperate for more, desperate to absorb it. I inhale deeply and feel it's heady power move through me. Candle wax. Strawberry and vanilla, sweet and sensuous. Powerfully mingled with raw Scully; arousal, yes, but with that prevailing smell that says to me she's close, she's with me. I ease the door shut, and lean heavily against it, letting the knob dig into the small of my back, needing the pain to ground me. "Mulder..." Her soft voice floats through the room, her distinct timbre caressing the air. Gooseflesh rises across the expanse of my skin. God, how is this possible? How can she, in the span of one spoken word, change my very definition of what it means to truly feel alive? I hear her shift, rising from the bed and moving closer to where I stand. I drop my head back against the unforgiving surface behind it, the demands of my body threatening to take me over...just like the last time. God! No. No. No, I have to be different. I have to be soft and slow and-- I start at the gentle touch against my face, a violent shudder tearing through me. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter as her palm splays across my cheek. Oh fuck. An instant of balancing precariously on the edge of control and then I fall over it. Desperate to taste any part of her, my head snaps to the side, and I latch onto her thumb, sucking it into my mouth. She whimpers and falls into me, her hot little body pressing firmly against me and I can't stand it! I groan loudly around the digit in my mouth, my hands coming up instantly to grip her hips hard. Soft. Soft skin. BARE skin. Oh God. Oh God! My fingers dig into into her flesh, and in the space of a heartbeat, I bring her ruthlessly against me, lifting her just enough to turn us around, switching our positions. Her hand falls from me in the process, and I hear her palms slap flat against the door behind her for balance. Bereft at the loss, my mouth immediately seeks her out, sinking into the warm flesh of her neck, as I fiercely crush my pelvis to hers. I cry out into the moist dent of her collarbone, tingles of stinging sensation driving across the pulsing length of my cock. Frantically, I suck and bite my way across her shoulders, her neck, her ears; unsympathetic to her sharp intakes of breath even when I know my teeth have surely nipped too hard. I am driven, drunk on her already, my needy mouth wanting to mark her everywhere at once. It's only when I bring my hands up to tunnel into her hair, violently tugging at the strands in order to force her head level with mine; when I'm ready to feast and devour her lips with my own, do I realize... Despite the level of carnal knowledge I may have gleamed from our experience in Dayton, I've never kissed her. This fact is enough to literally immobilize me. I freeze in place, holding her head between my palms, my face only inches from her own. Slowly, I open my eyes and draw back, only as far as I need to in order to focus on her. Her own eyes open then, her expression dazed, a little confused...and so, so beautiful. "Mulder...?" she pants softly. "Wha--?" "Shhhhh." I smooth the tiny crease in her forehead with my thumbs, blinking back sudden tears. When my gaze falls to her plump lips and then back to her eyes, I see understanding flicker behind them. "Scully..." I whisper reverently, saying her name, marking the moment, making it real, making it *us*. "Kiss me," she says in a breathy drawl. Air escapes me in a harsh exhalation. I can only nod mutely, too overwhelmed, too *aroused*, to find my voice and struggle with speech. God, please, let her know, let her understand what this means to me... I cup her face, bringing one hand down to caress the petal soft surface of her bottom lip with the pads of my fingers, and then I move to allow my thumb to take over the delicate exploration. She closes her eyes, her lips falling apart from the added pressure against her mouth. I run my thumb back and forth, marveling at the texture. ...I lean forward, closing my own eyes, and finally let my lips follow the same path. Back and forth. Back and forth. I hear a deep, sharp mewling sound each time I swipe across her mouth with my own and it's only on my fourth pass do I realize that it's coming from me. When she tilts her head to increase the contact between us, the sound turns into a long, drawn out moan. I want more, more, God, more... Combing my fingers back into her hair, I open my lips to hers. It takes only a second for the feel of my tongue against hers to change my course from a tentative touch to absolute plundering. I angle my mouth and grip her head tightly; the taste of the sweet, hot cavern of her mouth pushing me further into the intensity of the kiss. One of her arms suddenly curls around my neck, her nails scratching hard at the sensitive skin at the nape. I gasp, the burn of it dizzying, and she steals the very breath as it leaves me, consuming my own damp air as she takes hold of my tongue and sucks it deep into her mouth. She lets it slide carefully from her lips, wrapping them around the tip and then increasing the suction as she lowers her mouth around it again. I catch on enough to keep it as stiff as possible, and grunt helplessly from the back of my throat as she sucks the length of it, my cock throbbing with envy. She repeats the movement until I'm panting, wet and rough, into her mouth, the sound lost to the roaring in my ears. It's all I can do to keep upright. I lean heavily into her, pushing my aching flesh to her belly, seeking contact, friction, with labored jabs of my hips against her. She gives my tongue a particularly long, slow suck and I feel the head of my cock fatten painfully, moisture seeping into the straining fabric of my boxers. Oh fuck. I could come just from this. Her other hand reaches for my waist, moving swiftly to my t-shirt and tugging at the material until she's able to slip her her fingers underneath. Her nails rake against my ribs, and when she ventures higher to scrape one firmly across my tightly drawn nipple, all hopes of maintaining some semblance of restraint vanish completely. I pull my mouth from hers, ending the kiss before I embarrass myself. In one quick motion, I bring down both hands to clamp her hipbones, turning her around to press her flat against the door, her back to my front. "Jesus, do you know what you do to me, Scully?" I utter low into her ear, pushing my erection against her bottom just in case she has any doubts about her effect on me. I like the feel of it so much, I do it again. And again. Lost in sensation, I drop my forehead down to the middle of her shoulder blades, hissing in my breath with each thrust. I nip at the skin in front of me. At the sound of her startled "Mmmmm...", my tongue darts out and I lick a straight, slow path down her spine, dropping to my knees to moisten every vertebrae. I stop short when I reach the base of her tattoo, concentrating my efforts on tracing the endless circle on her back, wanting to sample the recklessness that drove her then, wanting to reawaken it now. She moves restlessly against the surface of the door, reaching her arms above her, and moving her legs apart slightly. Not much, but Jesus, it's enough. My nostrils flare as the full force of her scent blankets me. I can only open my mouth against her soft flesh and moan, "God. Oh God," before I snake my hands around her middle and twist her body back in front of me. I need it. God, I need it. Need her smell. Need her taste. Powerless against the force of this, I shove my face deep between her legs, just under the dripping curls at her apex. Turning my head, I lap at the moisture saturating the delicate skin of her inner thighs, the taste of her bitter but thick and tart, secretive. My stomach clenches and drops, blood rushing like a fucking avalanche into the taunt skin of my shaft. It's Scully. It's fresh, fundamental Scully, and God, I want every fucking drop of it. Need it. Need it. Need it. I grab one leg and hook it over my shoulder, exposing her folds and opening her body enough to give me access to what I want. Her ripe, red flesh fills my vision, and I open my mouth, completely immersed in devouring her. Pinpricks of pain abruptly pierce the back of my scalp. Her hands, full of my hair, tug my head back, trying to force me away from her. I'm way too far gone to care why she's doing this. I strain forward, seeking connection despite her hold, fighting her grip, and not giving a fuck if she pulls every god damn hair out of my head as long as I reach my goal. "Mulder!" she practically snarls at me. I snarl back, a low, piercing noise that sounds a lot like "MINE!" and twist my head, trying to free myself, intent and enraged now. Her clutch turns brutal and I see stars. She yanks my head back and jerks it upward. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. Our gazes lock, and for just a second we remain still. Her hold on me doesn't lessen a fraction. Then I feel it. A very slight give and tiny push of my head forward. When I try to go with it, the unforgiving grip returns, and her eyes flash dangerously. I groan, open mouthed, long and rough, at the sight, knowing suddenly what it is she wants. Control. Over this. Over me. I stop struggling at once, my head falling back on its own until she picks up the slack and holds it in position. Through lids heavy with hunger, I watch her, feeling her push the back of my head slowly toward her. Every breath I take leaves me in a labored rush. "Ahhh...Ahhh...Ahhh..." She pulls me steadily closer to her waiting sex, my tongue thick, so engorged with want I can't contain it completely in my mouth. Just inches from her and I've had all I can stand. She seems to sense this but instead of pulling my mouth to her finally, she thrusts herself forward, closing the distance. Fuck! Oh God! I close my eyes tight, the contact surging through me. I open my mouth wide against the slick, hot cleft of her, and just moan against her wet folds, completely possessed with lust. Oh fuck, yeah. My lips tremble, my cock throbs. Her scent is all I know and I'm loosing my fucking mind. I drag my open mouth to her opening and push my tongue deep inside. "Muh-Muh-Mulderrrr..." I whimper into her wetness, thrusting in and out suddenly, rapidly, and her fluid slicks down my chin. Moving up, I draw her plump nether lips into my mouth and she bucks hard against me, desperate to drive me to where she needs me most. More thorough exploration will have to wait. She needs release. I need to give it to her. I want to make her come and come and come. I wrap my mouth around her clit and pull it deep into my mouth, tonguing it unmercifully until I feel her body start to shake. I ease back, letting up on the hard pressure and suck at it softly, slowly, moving my head in tiny circles to caress and stimulate from every possible angle. The third time around and she grips my head tight again, pulling me to her as close as she can bring me. "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah," she chants above me, her voice high with tension. Two more times around and she bursts like an over-ripe peach in my mouth. She cries out, growing so impossibly wet that my face begins to slide down her velvet flesh despite the fact that my mouth refuses to release its hold on the now pounding bundle of nerves trapped between my lips. With each deep contraction, she yanks at my hair in desperation to keep me right in place. I suck and suck and suck, determined to make it last for--fuck, for both of us. God. Oh God. I tilt my head up, just enough to open my eyes so I can look at her...and our eyes meet. She's watched me, watched what I've done, what I'm *still* doing. My cock pulses powerfully as she burns against my lips and I growl deep in my throat. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Her thighs start to quiver against my cheeks, her legs straining to hold her up. When I feel her buckle weakly, I let her slide very slowly down, changing my own position until I manage to end up sitting. I lean back, taking her with me, pulling her out away from the door. We fall to the floor, me with my back on the rug, she to her knees, my face still buried between her legs. My hands grip her ass tight and I use my hold to move her above me, forcing her to grind against my lips, my tongue, my teeth. More, Scully! MORE! Come on, come on... "Oh GOD! Mul-Mulder! Oh GOD!" In just seconds, she shatters again, pumping hard against my mouth. I keep with her, even after she starts to twitch away from me. God, I don't wanna stop but I can only imagine how sensitive she must be. Her whimpers border on sobs, and though the pulsing in her body slowly begins to abate, her cries continue. I move my lips to her inner thigh and she drops forward, spent. Just as her hands connect with the floor, I lift her hips up and pull her body down the length of mine. Her startled sound becomes lost as I seize her mouth with my own. I want so much to be tender, but the kiss is fierce and urgent, a hot, wet manifestation of the agonizing need blasting through me. My cock literally *aches* with it and fuck, if I don't get my goddamn pants off soon I'm gonna rip right through them. I just...I just can't seem to STOP what I'm doing long enough to do anything about it. Scully, Scully, Scully. By some sudden unspoken mutual panic for air, we rip apart. She yanks herself away, the momentum carrying her upright quickly. She wastes no time in pulling me onto my knees in front of her. Her hands move to my shirt, and I moan as she begins to tug at it. "Scully, please. Please. God, please," I beg, though I'm honestly not sure exactly what I'm pleading for. Everything, I think. Everything. It takes her a few seconds too long to get my shirt off. Her hands are shaking, and though I am deeply touched at the implications, I don't have the patience to wait. In one hard pull I tear it over my head, the collar ripping in the process. I snatch both of her hands as soon as I can let go of the fabric, placing them flat against my ribs and holding them there. She takes it one step further, falling into my chest, her open mouth wet against my heart. She sucks hotly at my skin, dropping her head down to scrape her teeth across my nipple-- "FUCK!" I can feel her smile against me and then, she does it again. My hips jerk forward, out of reflex. She slides her tongue to the other tiny aching peak, and takes it between her teeth, nipping sharply. It's more than I can take. Far more harshly than I intend, I tighten my grip on her hands, pull her roughly from me and shove her to the bed. She falls into the waiting softness and scrambles quickly to the headboard, choosing to sit back on her heels to await my next move. For a long moment, we just stare at each other from opposite ends of the mattress. She's beautiful, and suddenly I'm lost in that, lost in the sheer sight of her... Breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths. Lips swollen. Hair wild. Burning want shining in her eyes... "I love you, Scully." Her mouth drops slightly, and I smile at her reaction. I know I've taken her off guard--hell, I've taken myself off guard--but I've never felt it as acutely as I do at this exact moment. For all the terror I felt, the fear of finally admitting to what I'm certain she's always known, saying it just now was effortless. And this realization sets me free. In more ways than I think I truly comprehend. It sets me free. Free to love her. Judging by the sight of the water in her eyes, I think she understands. And maybe it sets her free to love me back... Without breaking eye contact, I move my hands to the front of my jeans. I twist the button open, and even this brings a measure of relief. The zipper proves more tricky, the straining flesh against it making it hard to manipulate. I ease it carefully down, hissing as it scrapes my length. She stirs as if to move toward me but I stop her. "No. I come to you, remember?" She smiles, tears gathering on her cheeks, and says simply, "Ok..." Hooking my hands, I move the denim over my hips and to the floor. Her eyes immediately drop to my front, and I follow her gaze, startled and surprized by the large dark stain coloring the front of my boxer briefs, turning the light blue fabric a deep midnight indigo. "Take them off, Mulder," she whispers softly, longing in her voice. I obey her immediately, peeling them from my body, groaning as my erection is finally freed from the material. The cool air feels incredible, erotic in its contrast against the taunt, burning skin of my shaft. Jesus. I can feel every beat of my heart pound through me, stretching me, filling me, from base to tip. I don't dare look up to see her expression just yet. The feel of her hungry gaze is torture enough. I need a moment to get back some control, but both my cock and Scully are getting impatient. "Mulderrrr." I smile at the note of pleading in her voice, and drag my eyes back to hers. They are brimming with lust, and just the sight of so much love and arousal directed at me propels me abruptly into action... I have her pinned against the headboard before she scarcely has time to register my movement across the mattress. This position allows me to press hard into her belly and we both moan at the feel of my erection twitching between us. Her arms wrap around my neck, even as mine entwine under her bottom. I can feel her slickness everywhere I touch. God, she is so wet. I'm the luckiest son of a bitch that's ever lived. Our mouths fuse together, tongues, teeth and lips everywhere at once. We clash, too desperate and hungry for each other to care about finesse. Amazing. My God, *this* really is freedom; when you love someone so fucking much, your need just to be close outweighs any individual stress surrounding how well you can seduce each other. It's her. And it's me. Finally, it's *us*. It's really us. Oh God... She pulls away from me suddenly, her hands moving to my cheeks. "Mulder," she whispers, catching her breath. "Oh Mulder..." She slides her fingers across my face and I feel the moisture she traces. I'm crying. I lift her up, pushing my weight into her to hold her in place. I can feel her heat touch the tip of my cock and I buck helplessly toward it. "Scully...Oh God..." She moves and kisses my trembling lips gently. "I know," she says softly, brushing her mouth against mine. "I know, I know..." She eases down slowly, carefully onto my flesh, her tight, hot sex stretching around me. She cries out as I enter her, spreading her knees wide, trying to open her body up to me. Jesus, she is so small. My head falls back, the tense grip of her is almost painful. I squeeze my eyes shut, and groan. How can something so excruciating feel so god damn perfect? I wince, lifting her back up and easing her down. Her harsh moan as I sink deep inside of her making the movement rough, almost brutal. Fuck. Oh God, yeah. Again and again. Again and again. Again and again. My mind swims, trying to register all of the sensations at once...The scrape of her erect nipples against my sensitized chest. The tremble in her thighs as she struggles to bring me deeper into her body. The pounding of her pulse against my lips as I trail them across her neck... And the feel of her wet, full opening sliding moistly down my shaft. Oh God... We move slowly together, but not for lack of urgency. I can feel my cock, thick and throbbing, as she engulfs me within her walls, and...it's the most beautiful thing I've ever felt. I shake under the strain, the intensity of each journey into her body rocking through me. Sweat runs down the path of my spine. I feel alive. I feel so alive. Her nails clutch at my back, scratching slowly down. I moan, clenching my jaw at the sweet pain she inflicts. I push my full weight into her, spreading my knees apart just slightly, letting her slide against the taunt muscle of my groin. When she cries out, I know her clit has hit the spot where it flexes. I hold her there and begin to pump. The pace begins to build, the tension slapping between our bodies escalating with each thrust. Her cries turn more desperate as I thrust vigorously. I feel her inner muscles begin to tighten and liquefy. Hot. Hot. So tight and hot. "Sch--Scully! God, yeah. Come on, baby. Come on!" Her head falls back, and this sound starts low in her throat that I recognize immediately. The louder it gets, the more it drives me. My thrusts grow faster, sharper, harder. "Mulder. Mulder, oh God. Oh God!" It begins like a ripple, a flutter of velvet moving along my length that grows more turbulent with each pump of my hips. I grip her ass tightly, struggling to force my flesh into her vice-like depths, even as she squeezes impossibly around me. "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" I cry out, my voice raw, every stab of my cock causing her walls to grip me harder. Just when I think I can't possibly drive into her one more time, her body starts to soften. She shudders above me, still moaning continuously, as the contractions within her begin to lessen. A few more lazy thrusts and her flesh becomes completely yielding to mine, forming around me like a firm, sticky second skin. I keep it slow, letting her come down, despite the fact that my entire cock burns with every push inside of her. When I feel her start to raise her hips in time with mine, I take hold of her and flip us down and over onto the mattress, my own rhythm unbroken. "Fuck! Oh God, yeah!" With the change in angle, I slide to the hilt, and this is all I need to set me off. I feel it start deep, deep in my balls, making them heavy, drawing them up. My body grows rigid, the tension unbearable. I start to whimper and moan wordlessly, feeling the orgasm begin to swell my shaft in preparation...Up, and up, and up. "Scully! Scully! M' gonna...Ahh, ahh---" And I explode, pumping hard into her... "Scully, Scully, Scully..." I chant, each powerful eruption surging home into the welcoming harbor of her waiting body. I thrust and thrust until the spasms subside, moving until my cock begins to twitch and soften inside of her. "I love you, Mulder." I draw up and look at her, breathless. "Say it again." She smiles, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. "I love you." I lay my head on her shoulder, "Again..." "I love you." Her hands move lazily up and down my damp back, the touch reverent and soft. I close my eyes... ------------------------- Time passes. I wake to the joyous feel of her in my arms... Scully. In my arms. God. I said before that there are moments that can define a lifetime, but there will be just one that defines your soul. This is mine. I believe that I could reach out and pluck this very instant out of all the others that stretch across the expanse of time. It would stand out from the infinite rest... Like the only diamond in a ceaseless row of stones. END feedback? ::doing my best Monty Burns:: "eeeeexcellent!" XRae1013@webtv.net "It's my guess these two sickos are on some kind of cross country mouse killing spree."--Det. Sherman X-RAE'S VISION http://www.geocities.com/xraex1013 X-PLICIT DISCLOSURES http://www.geocities.com/xfanfic1013