Tell me you love me Scully

Chapter 1: The Sex Talk

Mulder is gazing at Scully. He finds himself doing that more frequently these days. He is an expert profiler, but after four years he cannot figure her out. He knows she knows him better than anyone alive, but does he know her -really? He knows the woman who wears the cross, performs autopsies, pretend that she doesn’t find his jokes funny. Does he know the woman who gets a tattoo, has a one night stand with a stranger, is about to do the wild thing with a man pretending to be him? How has the isolation of working on the X files changed her? How has her diagnosis of cancer changed her? The loss of her sister? Her abduction? How much, in other words, has all the misfortune that seems to come from being his partner changed her? He knows there has been some awkwardness between them recently. He blames himself. He ponders how to make things right.

Mulder looks away soon as Scully looks up and over at him. He does that every time. She has tried to hold a pose a little longer when she feels his gaze upon her- to be sure he is in fact looking at her as intently as he seems to be. She likes that he gazes at her. It is sometimes with admiration. Other times he looks at her with the same look he gives clues to a difficult case. She is ok with either gaze. She knows Mulder. The only way to keep his interest for any length of time is to be a bit of a mystery he is always unraveling. As to the admiration of her physical being, well, that is flattering and she definitely admires his physical being: his eyes, lips, biceps-just his physical presence that seems to fill up a space in an unique way.

As Scully gazes upon Mulder while thinking about Mulder gazing at her, he looks back at her and smiles smugly. He is so adept at looking away just as she looks over at him, but she has not learned that trick. This often leaves her blushing or glancing away when he catches her gazing at him. This time, though, she holds his gaze and smiles. Her smile prompts Mulder to ask, “What are you doing this week-end?”

“Not working, Mulder, so don’t even think about it.”

“No, but it's a Friday night and that Agent Thomas asked you to happy hour. He’s a good looking, strong, handsome male of the species. Why not take him up on it?”

“He asked us to happy hour, Mulder, both of us, and with a group of other agents. He was just being polite.”

“He was being polite by asking me, but he made a special trip to the basement to ask you.” Scully wonders if there is a hint of jealousy in Mulder’s voice or if it is just her wishful thinking. She had been out with Agent Thomas and the other agents before. They kept referring to Mulder as Spooky. She didn’t want to be part of anybody ridiculing her eccentric, but genius partner.

“Do you get lonely, Scully? Working here in the basement office with Spooky Mulder? Don’t you miss the companionship of going out for drinks or dinner after work on a Friday afternoon? Here it is 4 p.m. and in this building every single agent except you and me are planning where they’re heading to when the clock hits five.”

“Mulder, I said no for both of us to Agent Thomas, but I shouldn’t have spoken for you. Did you want to go? Are you lonely?”

They gaze now into each other eyes as if willing the other person to read his/her thoughts. Scully sees the loneliness in Mulder’s eyes and Mulder believes he sees in Scully’s eyes a fear of dying before she has actually lived life fully. Mulder shakes his head. “I’m not lonely, Scully. I have you.”

At 7 p.m that evening Scully has showered and changed into her most comfortable long sleeved two piece cotton pajamas. She has washed her hair and finger combed it only so it is curly and unkept. She puts on a warm, comfortable robe when the pizza boy knocks and accepts the pepperoni, mushroom pizza. He is her usual pizza boy and they are talking about his up coming graduation from high school when Mulder walks up with a six pack of beer. “Please tell me you remembered the anchovies, Scully.”

The pizza boy leaves. Mulder and Scully walk into her apartment. Scully is uncomfortable. She has not anticipated Mulder coming over tonight. He has not been over since the night when he burst into her apartment gun drawn to protect her and found her about to kiss a man she thought was him. “I thought about bringing a bottle of wine, Scully, but…” Mulder has picked up on Scully’s mood. He realizes maybe he has miscalculated coming over unannounced. “Beer is better with pizza, Mulder.” She doesn’t ask him why he is there as she wants to. She gets plates and napkins while he opens the beer.

At first they talk about nothing of importance. Finished with the second beer, done with the pizza and now on their third beer, Mulder tentatively approaches the subject he came here tonight to talk about with Scully: Sex.

“We never really talked about that night, Scully, when Eddie was here instead of me.” “I don’t want to talk about it. It's embarrassing.” “That’s why we need to talk about it- so we are not embarrassed. We should be able to talk about anything, Scully.” Scully looks at Mulder warily. “Mulder, I had too much to drink.”

Mulder realizes he is handling this poorly. “I don’t want you to apologize. I don’t want you to explain. We all have sexual desires, Scully.”

Scully feels herself blush. Is this the moment he tells her that he is interested in her? Instead he brings up another subject she isn’t comfortable discussing.

“Scully, you know I take care of my needs with pornography and phone sex.” He is matter of fact about it. “I’m not ashamed of that.”

Scully blurts out what every female agent at the FBI wonders: “but why don’t you date, Mulder?”

Mulder looks surprised. “I date, Scully. I just don’t date women I work with.”

“But you never talk about your dates.”

“Well, I don’t date a lot. Most of the women I meet are from work.” He stands up and walks around the living room uncomfortably. “Scully, I don’t have casual sex. I only have sex with a woman after we’ve said I love you.”

She was not expecting that. Mulder, a deliberate celibate, a romantic, saving himself for the right woman? Her face expresses her surprise. “It's not a morality thing, Scully.” Mulder remembers the last time he had casual sex. He was working a case in Los Angeles when Scully was missing. It was a slip and the woman ended up dead. “It's to protect myself. Scully, I just fall hard. I think of sex and love together and I confuse myself in a way. I can’t have sex without falling in love and if the woman doesn’t love me, I get hurt.” Mulder thinks of Phoebe and her cavalier attitude towards multiple partners. He thinks about a partner he did have a romantic relationship with and how she had left him. Mulder sits down on the couch and looks at his hands. “Scully, my heart breaks easily and I don’t like to be left. I know I seem cool and calm but in this way I’m not strong enough.” He looks directly in Scully’s eyes. She remembers the case a few weeks ago where Mulder was convinced he had met his soulmate he had love over lifetimes and how upset he was when she took her own life even though they had just met. Yes, she knows, when he falls he falls deeply.

“Are you saying you don’t think you will ever fall in love?”

Mulder shakes his head. “I want to be in love. I hope it will happen for me, but I will need to know we both love each other before I commit. In the meantime, phone sex is anonymous and pornography isn’t real- it's fantasy, but it gives me the relief every human needs until I meet the woman who I can be in love with and who can love me back.”

Scully sits back and thinks. Is he explaining why he hasn’t made a pass at her or trying to tell her he never will?

“Mulder, thank you for telling me. It makes me feel differently about your pornography habits.”

“Scully, I need to make sure you know, though, it's not a morality thing. I don’t judge what other people do. I know I was upset about you being with that guy, and the tattoo, and then Eddie, but I just don’t want you to put yourself in harms way.”

Scully sighs. Do they really have to talk about this? She starts to explain again. Mulder interrupts.

“Scully, you have needs. You don’t have to apologize or explain. That’s what I really wanted to tell you. I know lots of agents who when they are on the road take the opportunity with a stranger in a strange town. I don’t want you to think you can’t do that on the road because of me. You should do what you need to do without fear of me getting upset. I know I have gotten upset but I won’t. You can do whatever you need to do. Just promise me you will be careful.”

Un-oh. He said something wrong. He can tell by that look in her eyes. Scully thinks to herself that she doesn’t know what is worse: his telling her there was no future between them, the fact that he thinks she is a slut or his patronizing arrogance over thinking he has any say in her life.

“Thank you, Mulder, for your permission to have consensual sex with whoever in the Hell I want to. Now that I have your permission I feel so much better. That’s just what I was waiting for is your permission.”

This is not how he meant for this evening to go. He was hoping it would relieve some of the stress between them. Clear the air. Instead he finds himself out in her hallway with the door being slammed in his face. What has he said to upset her so much? He is really struggling with trying to figure her out.

*** END OF CHAPTER 1 ***

Chapter 2: Scully is Alive!

Summary:
Timeframe season 5 between Redux Part two and Detour

Such a silly waste of time. Mulder has dragged Scully to a town in Maine to investigate an UFO siting that turns out to be such an obvious hoax he threatens the teenage boys involved with fraud charges just to scare them straight. Scully meets with the boys’ parents to explain the seriousness of their actions, but does not include the fact, as Mulder would have, that it is a disservice to real UFO sitings and sincere UFO followers. Mulder apologizes profusely to Scully for wasting her time, but she tells him she likes it when the cases are clearly hoaxes. They could close a case as solved and, generally, no real threat of danger ever came their way in hoaxes and they almost never disagreed about the cases. Scully admits that she is surprised how few of the cases ended up being pure hoaxes.

Truthfully, Mulder just wanted to get her out of the office and into the field. When Scully returned to work following her illness, he had created a bunch of file reviews based on new findings in paranormal research. He had wanted her to regain her strength. Then this damn teamwork retreat had been scheduled for next week and he knew the best way for Scully and him to work on their “teamwork” was in the field. Now with the case closed late afternoon, they are in Maine for the evening with no work to occupy them.

Mulder convinces Scully to let him take take her out for Maine lobster at a four star restaurant. He is surprised when she readily says yes. She had seen a boutique earlier and shops for an appropriate dress. She finds a red dress with a tight bodice. It hangs below her knees and shows no cleavage but the tightness and the fit on her petite frame emphasizes her curves.

They sit across from one another sipping a Grand Cru Chardonnay. Mulder has not allowed Scully to see the menu. He knows she would resist the $300 price tag for the premiere French wine, but he is celebrating in style. Every dime is worth it. Butter is dripping down Scully’s chin and she is is smiling, laughing, eating and talking. She is vibrantly alive and in the moment. Mulder orders her another ala carte lobster. She protests that it is too much. He uses his napkin to wipe her mouth and pours more wine into her glass.

Scully asks him why he is trying to fatten her up. He takes her hand and absent-mindedly runs his fingers up and down her arm. She has become so thin since her illness. She reads his mind.

“The only benefit from cancer is the rapid weight loss. I want to try and keep this figure.” Mulder smiles at her. They have not discussed her cancer, her miraculous cure, the chip in her neck. He motions the wait staff to bring the chocolate torte he had ordered ahead for their desert. He knows she will never resist no matter how much she protests. She eats the first bite with her eyes shut and then greedily takes a second, third, fourth bite. “I need to do something to work off the calories,” she says. “Come running with me tonight, Scully.” For years Mulder has tried to convince her to join him on the jogs he takes in every new town. She has always refused as she does now.

“How about dancing, Mulder? That would be the perfect activity following this perfect dinner.”

Scully asks the waiter about dancing in the town. It is mid-week which makes it more difficult. The only thing the waiter can suggest is the local country bar. It is ladies night so they can sometimes get a big crowd. Scully tells the waiter that Mulder is really more of an Elvis or Hendrix fan. The waiter pours the last of the bottle of wine and Scully realizes she has drank more wine than Mulder, ate most of the desert and had an extra lobster. Mulder has been happy just to watch her enjoy herself.

Now he says that he will be happy to go to the country bar with her. They might stand out a little the way they are dressed, but…. She shakes her head. “I hate country music as much as you do, Mulder.” He looks at her quizzically. “You do hate country music don’t you, Mulder?” He smiles sheepishly, avoids eye contact and shrugs his shoulder. “Actually when I do go out on dates I often take women line dancing. I’m pretty good.” He glances at her briefly and blushes. She realizes she has never heard Mulder speak disparagingly of country music. She had made the assumption based on his intelligent discourse that he wouldn’t like country music. “I thought I knew everything about you.” “Well, not everything.”

Scully finishes her wine and realizes she is tipsy. “Oh, we are so going. I won’t dance, but I will watch you.” “Who will I dance with, Scully?” “It's ladies night, Mulder.” Mulder begins to protest that it will be boring for her. Scully, tipsy and talkative, says again “oh, no, we are going.” She laughs. “Mulder, before we left the office this morning I was in the restroom- in the stall- and some women, not knowing I was in there, were talking about you. ‘The only thing Spooky about him is how hard it is to stop thinking about him. He looks you in the eyes and it's all you can think about.’ ‘I like to watch his lips when he talks.’ ‘My favorite view is him walking away.’ I had to stay in the stall until they left.” Mulder doesn’t know how to respond, but Scully is not through. “Now tonight I get to see that behind shaking. Oh, we are going.”

Mulder looks at her in surprise. “Scully, if I said anything that objectifying about you…” Before he finishes he sees frown lines appear on Scully’s forehead. No, he thinks to himself, I am not going to ruin this evening “but I like being objectified. Let's go to the bar.”

They attract immediate attention by the way they are dressed. Mulder orders them each a beer and Scully adds two shots of tequila to the order. She tells the waitress that “my brother” really wants to dance. Would she spread the word to any of the ladies in the bar that he is just looking for an invitation? Mulder removes his tie and jacket and drinks his shot before the first woman approaches. He has multiple offers and spends the next two hours dancing.

Scully is surprised and appreciative of how well Mulder knows the moves: when to clap, when to move to the back, when to slide, slide. Then she is appreciative of how well he dances, how his hip curves in and his straight posture. Finally she is just watching him. He is such an athlete, she thinks. He swims, runs, plays basketball and baseball. That’s why that ass is so tight. That's why his back muscles ripples through his shirt, that’s why…

Then he is back at the table, grabbing the check, saying they better go-it is getting late. He looks at the check and frowns. “How many tequila shots have you had, Scully?” She shakes her head. She has lost count, but it has been a couple of hours. Mulder looks at her- has she really drank three beers and five shots of tequila? That explains why her cheeks are flushed, her eyes have a heightened sparkle, her mouth is open and her breath is a little more rapid than usual. Mulder is sober after two hours of dancing without drinking. As Scully stands up she is off-balanced, leaning towards her left as she walks. Mulder pus his arm around her to help balance her.

On the way back to the hotel he rolls down the window so cool air will hit her face. She asks him if he owns a pair of cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. Boots, yes, hat no. It is a short drive to the hotel. He walks her to the door, takes the key out of her hand to open it, and follows her in. “Scully, do you need help? I could get out your pajamas for you.” She appears a little lost in the middle of the room and suddenly starts to slide to the floor. Mulder grabs her and sits her in the only chair in the room. “Mulder, I am starving.” “Starving?” “I noticed the gas station across the street has sausages on a stick. Could you get me one? Jalapeño –with mustard.” Mulder shakes his head incredulously. “You want me to buy you a sausage on a stick from a gas station?” Scully nods, “When I saw them this morning, I so wanted one. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of them.” Scully, you always leave me guessing.” On his walk to the gas station he thinks, “$500 for dinner and what she really wanted was a sausage on a stick from a gas station.”

Scully walks to the restroom. She brushes her teeth with a new toothpaste-especially minty, washes her face, removes her make-up, pulls out a silk nightgown, different than what she usually wears that her mother had bought her, sits back in the chair. When Mulder comes back the only place for him to sit will be on the bed which is just where she wants him.

When Mulder hands her the sack and plops down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, she takes the sausage out and smells it. Then she puts down the sausage on the table. “Mulder, you should kiss me now?”

“What?” Mulder sits up in the bed. What is she talking about?

Scully is very drunk still and slurs her words. “I used new toothpaste. I taste like mint, but after I eat this sausage I will have really bad breathe, so you should kiss me now.”

“That makes perfect sense, Scully, if I had been planning on kissing you.”

Scully looks confused. “You don’t usually kiss your dates good night?”

Mulder hadn’t thought of tonight as a date. He thought of it as a celebration, but not a date. As he thinks of it now, though, extravagant wine, nice dinner, dancing. He guesses Scully had thought of it as a date. He doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Scully, on the first date, I usually just kiss the girl on the cheek.” He crosses to her and kisses her clerk chastely. He touches her lips with his index finger. “We will need to wait for the kiss on the mouth for another occasion.” He notices her silk nightgown and her nipples sticking out through the fabric. “I should go.” “No. Mulder, not yet, please.” She looks at him with her soft blue eyes. He nods and returns to the bed.

Scully thinks to herself that he is not getting away that easy. She picks up the sausage on a stick. It is about 6 inches, red, almost angry looking. She holds it up perpendicular in front of her and grabs the mustard. “With these sausages, I like to put the mustard just on the bottom on the base. Then, I lick at the mustard with my tongue.” Scully’s tongue flicks in and out as she turns the sausage around barely touching the base with her tongue. “Then, I try to drag the mustard up to the top with my tongue.” She puts her tongue firmly against the mustard and drags her tongue up the full length of the sausage. She repeats this several times turning the sausage around.” “Then I like to taste the tip before I take it all in my mouth.”

“Scully,” Mulder’s voice is more amused than exasperated. “Is the sole reason you sent me out for that sausage so you could fuck with me?” Scully’s blue eyes sparkles. She pretends to have misheard him. “Mulder, did you ask me to fuck you?” Mulder laughs. “Scully, say fuck again.” Now, we are getting somewhere, Scully thinks, and tries to make her voice sound deep and hoarse like Lauren Bacall’s. “Fuck.” Mulder giggles this time. “Scully, have you ever even said that word before?” “Mulder, you’ve heard me use the word before.” “When you stub your toe or in anger, but not about sex not as in ‘I want to fuck you, baby.’ It doesn’t sound like you.” When Mulder says “I want to fuck you, baby,” his voice lowers, the words seem to vibrate in his chest and float up and out of his mouth like caramel just beginning to melt. Scully looks at him open mouthed. Mulder is unaware how sexy his voice sounded. “You just don’t have to work that hard, Scully. You’re sexy when you walk, sit, breathe, argue with me. You’re the sexist woman I’ve ever met.”

“Then why don’t you want to?” Scully is afraid if she says fuck again he will laugh at her again. “Scully, you’re drunk. A man doesn't with a woman whose drunk. Besides I’ve told you why before.” Scully bites into the sausage. Mulder watches her quietly for a few minutes before he says, “you get horny when you’ve been drinking, Scully. There’s a pattern.” “It just can’t be that I want to have sex with an incredibly handsome man? It just can’t be that I want to fuck you?” They sit in quiet a bit longer while Scully finishes her sausage.

“Scully, I’m flattered, but sex changes things for better or worse. It would change us.” Scully wipes the mustard off her fingers. Her drunkenness is wearing off. Mulder thinks she looks sad. This is definitely not how he wanted the night to end. He tries to explain more fully. “The thing is, Scully, you almost died. We both thought you were going to die.” Mulder voice breaks. He finds it suddenly hard to breathe as the residue emotions of fear and sadness from the recent past surfaces. “We almost lost what we had- what we have. I would never heard you say fuck or see you eat a sausage or have you roll your eyes at me.” Mulder begins to cry at first softly and then louder. “I just got this back. I can’t risk losing you. My God, Scully, what would I have done if you had died?” He hadn’t known he would burst into tears. He hadn’t known he had needed to tell her this, but tonight she is so alive. He is so grateful.

Scully walks over to the bed. She sits beside him and slowly wraps her arms around him. He holds her tight sobbing- as if she is the life jacket keeping him from drowning. “You’re the only one I can trust.”She strokes the back of his neck, presses her cheek against his, moves her head to his chest and settles there until his crying subsides. Mulder says in a quiet voice, “you have become the most important person in my life.” He is bending down to look at her as she looks up at him. Their mouths are inches apart.
“Scully, you weren’t kidding about the sausage breath.” She slaps him playfully and sits up rapidly. She then holds out her hand and says, “oh no.” “What Scully? Are you ok?” “I’m kind of dizzy.” “Yeah, will half a bottle of wine, three beers and five tequila shots, you’ve actually done pretty good not to have passed out.”

Mulder disengages from her, brings her aspirin, water and a cold compress. He settles her in bed, pulls the blanket up. He whispers he will stay until she falls asleep in case she needs anything. He sits in the chair long after she falls asleep. He looks at this vibrant woman who makes his days worth living. He tries to come to grips with the true nature of his feelings towards her and what it might mean for his future.

* END OF CHAPTER 2 *

Chapter 3: Time Passes

Summary:

Timeframe Season 6 after Tithonus

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea. (Love song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot)

Mulder cannot get those lines out of head as he makes dry toast and hot tea in Scully’s kitchen. He had slept on her couch last night after bringing her back from the hospital. This morning she is awake, still not hungry, but had agreed to toast and tea which he had insisted he would bring her in bed. Then he will go home to shower and dress for work. Scully’s mother will come by this morning to spend the day and a night. Then Scully says she would be fine to take care of herself and recovered enough in a couple of weeks to return to light duty work.

A watched pot never boils, Mulder thinks, waiting for the tea kettle’s whistle. Then, he returns to thinking of the Eliot poem. It is such a depressing poem of an old man looking back at a measured life and wondering about missed opportunities. A poem about the tedium of long years without taking chances. Of course, he often took chances as did Scully which has put their lives at repeated risk. In some areas they take many chances, but, in their personal relationships, they took great care not to risk; not to dare.

Over a year since he had cried while holding her in his arms asking what would he have done if she had died. Two Christmases have passed. She had not died of cancer and not of the gunshot wound she received at the hands of a different partner. She had not died and so there would be time yet for a hundred indecisions.

The tea kettle finally whistles. He pours the water over the tea bag and thinks of another verse of the poem:

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,

Time had not passed slowly and there had been no tedium. In the last year, Scully had found out she had a daughter, Emily, who had died. She had found out she was barren and then when he told her he had discovered and stored her ovum, she had asked him to be a sperm donor. It had been a long shot and it hadn’t worked. He had watched her deal with the reality she would never be a biological mother. He had watched knowing he could not help. They had come so close to the truth and to the proof, a child mind reader, him rescuing Scully before seeing a spaceship rise into the air. So close and then kicked out of theX-files, his life’s work. Ok, there has been some tedium in the past year with the work they had been assigned to punish them.

Then, there had been the return of Diana. Diana! She had made it clear she wanted to rekindle their relationship. He still did love her. He didn’t really know how to stop loving someone once you had started, but his feelings for Scully stood in their way. He could see himself with Diana; married with children. He could be happy with her. After she had been shot he had spent a similar night on her first night out of the hospital as he had last night with Scully. She wasn’t the one he wanted, but if Scully didn’t love him, then, people do settle, don’t they? He takes the tea and toast to Scully.

There is no medical reason for Scully not to be hungry and, as a medical doctor, she knows the importance of eating. This near death experience and the case that had resulted in her near death really shook her. She couldn’t help thinking about mortality and immortality. She can’t stop thinking about a poem she remembers from a college literature class. There is a line in a poem by Eliot. “Do I dare disturb the universe?’

Her universe has been Mulder and the X files the last few years. She has no romance. She is unable to have children. Now Mulder and her are off the X-files. He had once told her she was the most important person in his life and on another occasion that she was his one in five billion, but that was before Diana was back in the picture. She had seen the way he looks at Diana and had heard through the grapevine that he had spent at least one night at her house. If they were having sex, then Mulder must love her and believe she loved him. More of the poem comes back to her:

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

She was Mulder’s advisor, confidant and naysayer. No more than an attendant. That was her role in this drama. Dare she disturb her own universe by walking away from Mulder-ask for reassignment? Did she dare disturb her universe by looking honestly at the reasons she stayed with the FBI and as Mulder’s partner? Shouldn’t she take the fact that she had survived, again, to prioritize differently? Yet the thought of disturbing her universe by leaving Mulder made her depressed.

She takes the tea and toast from Mulder. He sits beside her on the bed while she eats and drink. ‘You look sad, Mulder.”

“I have been thinking about “the love song of J Alfred Prufrock.” It's a sad poem.”

“That’s odd. I have been thinking about it as well.”

Scully is done with the toast and tea. Mulder picks up her hand and kisses it. He pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Scully, I understand now why there are so many songs and poems about unrequited love.”

“Who do you love, Mulder?”

“You know. I told you.”

“Who? When?”

“That time in the hospital. You said ‘oh, brother.”

“You were delirious and on pain medication.”

“I still meant it.”

‘But how about Diana?”

Mulder sighs. He gets off the bed and leans against the wall; his arms and legs crossed. “I guess that’s the thing about unrequited love. The only way to get over it is to find someone who can love you back. Is that what you think I should do?”

Scully fluffs up her pillows, rearranges them, and leans back on them. She looks out the window. “That is not it at all. That is not what I meant at all.”

A knock on the front door interrupts their conversation. They both know it is Scully’s mother. Mulder says he will let her in on his way out. “I will see you when you are ready to come back to work, Scully.”

“Mulder, wait.” She stops him as he is walking out. He turns and look at her. “Will you call me? I mean, every night until I return to work. Will you please call me?”

He nods. Of course he will. She watches him exit her room. He loves me, she thinks. She tries to process it. If she allows herself to fall in love with him everything will change. Does she dare disturb her universe?

* END OF CHAPTER 3 *

Chapter 4: Dana and Fox

Summary:

Timeframe. Season 6 Arcadia

Mulder is on the couch in a suburb of San Diego. Scully and him are undercover as a married couple, but not under the covers together as he would like; together, in love, contemplating their future. This is the fantasy keeping him awake. What would it be like to play house for real with Dana Scully? He wonders if Scully ever realizes how hard it is for him, being in love with her, while she thinks of him as a colleague, a brother, a friend, an annoyance. No undercover assignment has ever felt as natural and as frustrating. He puts in hands in his pants and distractedly scratches his balls before he begins to touch his dick. He touches it without intention of it going in an erotic direction; just absentmindedly getting “in touch” with his feelings. The last vision he had of Scully was in that green face mask, blue sleep pants, white cotton shirt, robe, hair back from her face. There is nothing erotic about that image, he thinks, but then realizes he is, nevertheless, responding erotically. He removes his hand, turns over on the couch, and tries to tell himself that in time he will get over her.

He half wakes a couple of hours later realizing he has been dreaming –it was him, not Eddie, about to kiss her on the couch and she had let him. His hand goes back inside his pants. His left hand takes down his pants slightly giving him a chance to freely engage with his right hand. In his mind the couch is the couch in Scully’s apartment and she has removed her shirt. The dream seems so real he can her gasp, “oh, oh”. He speeds up his hand motion. “I’m so sorry.” What? He eyes blink open. She is really here in the room with him, in the same pajamas she had worn to bed, but with the green wiped off. Her face is red, blushing, and she is backing away. DAMN! He realizes he has his cock out of his pants with his hand on it. He quickly removes his hand and pulls up his pants.

“It's ok. What’s the matter?” He sits up, embarrassed, but ready to pull his gun and fight whatever evil is lurking.

“I couldn’t sleep and thought I would get some ice cream. I just came in to see if you were awake and wanted some. Mulder, I’m so sorry.” She buries her face in her hand.

“It's ok, Scully. It's not like you didn’t know I sometimes…I mean all men sometimes…I mean, I guess, women too sometimes.”

“Shut up, Mulder.” He is actually glad she has stopped him before he rambled on further. “I will leave you to…whatever,” Scully turns around to leave.

“Scully,” she turns back to him. ‘Just one scoop for me.”

By the time she returns with the ice cream, he has gone to the restroom, washed his hands extra well as if he was Lady Macbeth, tried to slick his hair down. She walks in as he is bends over to pick up the remote control. He is wearing light linen pajama bottoms only-no boxers underneath- and the outline of everything he is front side and backside is clear as he walks around straightening the living room; clearing his papers off the coffee table, folding the blanket. He sits down and takes the bowl of ice cream off the table. Scully has already eaten one of her scoops as she watches him. No longer embarrassed and seeing the humor in the situation, her eyes are smiling and she has a sideways smile. “Rob is looking fine!” She sensually licks the ice cream off her spoon and Mulder is reminded of a time in a hotel room with a sausage. “Is Laura rethinking her decision to kick him to the couch?” They laugh, comfortable again with each other, and Mulder turns on the television, finds a late night talk show, and they finish their ice cream in silence.

It is a Friday afternoon. The case is over. Mulder is in the lobby of a very fancy San Diego hotel listening to Scully’s end of the conversation with the administrative assistant from the FBI. Scully had made arrangements for her to take a flight out Sunday night so she could spend the week-end in San Diego, visiting her brother and his family she said, but as Mulder looks at the hotel she has booked for herself he wonders how much times she is really planning on seeing her brother. The administrative assistant had changed both Mulder’s and her flights and now flights out were booked- none available. Scully hangs up the phone with an exasperated expression on her face.

“She said she assumed if I was staying the week-end so were you.”

“We are kind of tied at the hip. We do everything together.” Mulder laughs when Scully rolls her eyes.

“They will reimburse you standard FBI rate for hotel cost and I will cover the rest if you want to stay here.”

“I can’t just shack up with you?” Scully face becomes more exasperated at Mulder’s comment. “Joking, Scully. I can find somewhere- don’t worry.”

“No, no I want you to stay here. I will go get you a room- give me your ID.” Scully hurries away feeling guilty that her plans screwed up Mulder’s plans; although she knows rationally it's an administrative error not hers. As Mulder tries to read her body language and facial expression he misunderstands her annoyance. When she returns with his key, he tries to reassure her.

“Look, Scully, I can stay out of your hair. I can give you space. I know you had plans and, hey, I can find ways to occupy myself. Please don’t think I’m going to be bothering you.” Scully hands him her additional room key and keeps one of his as is their habit when traveling together; in case of emergencies. She looks at him quizzically. “I know we just lived together for a few days and you’re probably sick of me. Thanks for the room.”

Scully looks after him shaking her head. Why did he think she wanted him to stay here? She had thought it would be nice to spend some leisure time together. Her exasperation level rose- had he actually just ditched her again?

Scully returns to the hotel after 10 pm. Visits with her brother and his family always seem more an obligation than anything else. She had told him she was the only available for the evening. Mulder was here…and then she had heard her brother’s opinion on Mulder’s. Scully is tired. She stops in the hotel bar to order a bottle for the room. She looks across the bar and sees Mulder definitely enjoying himself.

She sits at the bar alone and orders a Manhattan. She asks the bartender- is it country night? The bartender says no, but the ladies and the gentleman had asked him to put country on the stereo. This is not a dance bar. Mulder and the three women, all in their early twenties, blonde and leggy, have pushed the tables in the otherwise empty bar aside. Mulder is in front of the line with his back to Scully. He is wearing tight jeans. The ladies in back of him are not familiar with country dancing and he is showing them, but the ladies are clearly more focused on his behind. He comes around to each of them one at a time and standing closely behind them with his arms around them, helps them learn the moves. Scully notices the coy smiles on each lady’s face as they look in Mulder’s face and leans their body closer to him. She hears one of them say, “like this, Fox?” as she moves her behind into his crotch. Scully thinks how much she would like to wipe the smiles off of each of their smug faces. She nurses her one drink while the bartender takes beers and shots to Mulder and the ladies.

Finally, a cab driver comes in- hollers out a name- and the group turns. Mulder sees Scully. The ladies beg Mulder to come with them to a bar across town. Mulder thanks them, but says no. Each lady reaches up one by one to say goodbye to Mulder with a kiss on the mouth. Mulder responds willingly with hands squeezing the ass of each one. The ladies leave and Mulder rubs his thumb over his lips as his eyes follow them out the door. As they get to the door, they turn, all of them, and say in unison, “bye, foxy Fox.” Mulder waves, crosses to the bar, and offers to buy Scully a drink.

Scully accepts the drink, but barely glances or talks to him. He asks how her brother was. She shrugs. He moves closer to her and says softly, “Scully, you don’t really have any right to be jealous.” She looks at him with the fury in her eyes he finds so sexy. “I mean, do you?”

“How come you let everyone else call you Fox but me?” She surprises Mulder with the question. He thought she would be more jealous of the kisses.

“Those women don’t mean anything, Scully. I was just fooling around. Sometimes having an uncommon first name- women, you know a type of woman, responds to that. What should I do- introduce myself as Agent Mulder?”

“Diana calls you Fox. Phoebe called you Fox. Your mother, my mother-calls you Fox. Why can’t I call you Fox?”

“I think, when I told you to call me Mulder, I was already attracted to you. I thought it would be a way to keep professional boundaries between us by calling each other by our last names.”

“Well, that’s been effective,” Scully says with an ironic tone and slams the rest of her drink.

“I obviously didn’t know how much we would grow to mean to each other, but now I like us- Mulder and Scully- those names go together so well that even the the admin at the FBI think of us as one single entity.” Mulder’s voice gets husky at the end of the sentence; full of emotion at the thought of their being one.

“But now we’re here without a case and we’re not one, obviously. So for this week-end can we at least call each other Dana and Fox? I would like to see what that feels like.”

Mulder looks at her. He is hopelessly in love, but he does not imagine she is without faults. One of her faults is not recognizing the pain he is in due specifically to how much he does love her.

“Sure, Dana, “ he says it in a sarcastic manner. “Should we see each other this week-end, meet in the elevator or accidentally run into each other in the bar while having a late night drink- then Fox and Dana it is.” He finishes his drink and leaves the bar.

Saturday morning, Scully tries to call Mulder. It goes straight to voice mail. She lingers in the lobby; spends so much time in the gift shop she feels compelled to buy something. She is loitering. She is intentionally putting herself in a position to run into Mulder- no, Fox, because she is going to call him Fox, she tells herself. There is no sign of him.

Shortly after noon Scully does a double take to make sure the two leggy blondes walking by her in bathing suits are not the same women as last night. No. It is two different blonde, leggy women in their early twenties who are talking about the handsome man with the dry wit by the swimming pool. Handsome, funny, and the way he looks in that red speedo. Those red speedos are the talk of the FBI among those women who swim at the Quantico pool Scully goes up stairs. She has brought two bathing suits on this trip because one she was afraid she would be too chicken to wear. She puts it on now. It is a one piece black bathing suit with a cleavage cut to the belly button. In the back it has a similar cut down to her tail bone.

Mulder has just gotten out of the pool and is toweling off when he sees Scully. He quickly drops the towel so it covers his immediate erection. The black bathing suit, the red hair, her skin is pale, of course, but the portion visible between her breasts to her belly button is porcelain. She walks over to him, takes the towel from him, hands him sun block, turns around and raises her hair so her back is exposed. He massages the lotion into her back, down to the small of the back. He is breathing loudly enough for her to hear him. She turns and looks up at him. She tries to take the sun block from him and he pulls it back. He steps back, pours the lotion into his left hand, drops the lotion on a nearby chaise, closes his hands so lotion is now on both hands. He starts with his hands on either side of Scully’s petite neck. His hands seem so large on her body as he rubs down the middle of her chest to her belly button. He is is inches from being able to touch her most private area. He look around to make sure no one is looking and then with his left hand still on her stomach he grabs her hand with his right hand and places it firmly on his bulge. He presses her hand against him hard and breathes in quickly with the sensation. He believes he could cry, burst into tears as he had before in front of her. Why does he find it so easy to cry in front of her? Neither has spoken. Time seems to have stopped. She stands on her tip toes, reaches up with her other hand to pull his head down to hers, she whispers in his ear, “Come up to my room.”

He is looking in her eyes. His treasure chest, prize, pot of gold-use whatever metaphor you want- God, she is here looking up at him, eager to give herself to him. What will you have to pay, Mulder? He urges himself to consider the cost. An hour or two from now when she is smiling and contented, but no more willing to commit to him than she is now, how will he survive that rejection? He doesn’t want her for an hour or two. He wants her for forever. “I can’t.” He lets her hand free from his loin, removes his hand from her stomach, stands up straight and walks away.

Scully is furious. She goes to her room and changes before going straight to Mulder’s room. When Mulder doesn’t answer her knock, she lets herself in with the spare key. She hears the shower running. She pours herself a glass of water and tries to calm down. God damn tease. He had grabbed her hand and pulled it to his…it was large, both length and width, to her touch. His hand on her stomach. Inches lower…Damn him. Just teasing her.

Mulder gets out of the shower, grabs a towel and steps out from the restroom not expecting anyone to be there. Once again he lowers the towel to cover his groin. “Scully, what the hell are you doing?” He steps back into the restroom and walks out in a long, dark cotton robe, oversized which he ties around the waist.

“We need to talk about this, Fox.” She says his name with a certain sweetness. “There is obviously a physical attraction between us.”

Mulder looks at her incredulously. He shrugs. “I’ve barely noticed.”

“It's not funny, Fox.”she says his name in that same way again.

“Scully, can we just use last names?”

“Why are you so angry at me? Are you actually angry at me because I want to fuck you? You want to fuck me too. At least a part of you does.”

“I’m sorry, Scully. None of this is your fault. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated. It's hard to be the one in love with the girl who doesn’t love you back.”

“How do you know what I feel or don’t feel?”

Mulder looks at her confused.

“Mulder, you are the last person I would ever expect to be so conventional. Why do we need declarations of love to have sex?”

Mulder shakes his head. Hasn’t he told her this before? “It's not morality, Scully. I think a lot of it has to do with my family dynamics. It was odd after Samantha…wasn’t there. I’ve been lonely since I was twelve. I don’t know, but when I give my body, my heart follows. In this case you already have my heart. Its so hard to explain.”

“Would you try, Mulder?”

“I love you. When we are working I can put that aside. I can focus on the work. I’m always just so fortunate to have you there. It means everything, but, to be with you without a case? I want to reach out and touch you. Even in Arcadia, pretending to be married to you was a type of sweet torture. To know that I can’t have a life with you outside of work. It would be even worse if we had sex. To you it would just be another encounter, but for me…”

“Every time we talk about sex, you call me a slut.” She wouldn’t let him interrupt. “I very seldom have casual sex, Mulder, and, maybe at one time it might have been casual, but not now. Mulder, most people date, they get to know each other, they like one another, they take it to the next level to have sex and then they make a commitment, if they are compatible in every way.”

“I’m not most people.” They sit quietly for a little while. “Scully, do you think we don’t know each other well enough or are you actually afraid we’re not sexually compatible?”

Scully laughs. Over the last few years they have developed such communication in their looks and glances that many fellow agents thought they were telepathetically communicating. Was there anyone who knew her better than Mulder? And she had no fears that they could satisfy one another sexually. “Mulder, I care deeply about…”

‘OH, CHRIST, MOTHER OF GOD-DON’T GIVE ME THE I LOVE YOU LIKE A BROTHER SPEECH. YOU LOVE ME LIKE A BROTHER YOU WANT TO FUCK?”

Scully responds to Mulder’s yelling with calm. “Mulder you are a part of me. My other half. My other self.”

Mulder is sitting on his bed breathing in shallowly. What exactly is she saying?

“The question isn’t whether or not I love you, as I see it. It's whether or not I can commit to a life with you- the life always in danger, always seeking truth, always running to or from something…and not just for today or the next five years, but for every moment of our lives for the rest of our lives.”

“You know the man I am, Scully. I think if you loved me, you wouldn’t be questioning whether or not you could commit.”

“I know Agent Mulder, I know Scully’s Mulder, but I don’t know Fox. I don’t know the man who was flirting with those women last night. I don’t know who you are when…” It is Scully turn to have a hard time explaining. ‘Who are we when we are not Mulder and Scully together? Because if we think we can spend a life together than, at some point, we need to be Fox and Dana. Could we try for a while to see about a balance? Could we try to spend time together when we are not working and be Fox and Dana? If you love me as you say you do and that's what I need to make the decision about whether or not I can commit to you, will you try it to see?”

Mulder doesn’t say anything. In fact he stays in one position thinking long after Scully leaves. The next morning he goes down to the lobby. Scully is drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

“Good morning, Dana.” Their eyes meet. She nods her head. “How are you thinking of spending the remainder of your time in California?”

“Well, Fox,” she says his name softly. “I thought I would go for a walk on the beach. Would you like to come?” He smiles and, as they leave the hotel for a walk, grabs onto her hand. He understands. She isn’t rejecting his love. She isn’t saying never. She is saying- meet me in the middle and I will try to love you back. No promises, but she will try.

* END OF CHAPTER 4 *

Mulder is dreaming. He knows he is dreaming because he can see himself and Scully as if on high looking down. They both look older. It is at least 10 years in the future- maybe more. They are living together. He knows that somehow. They have been-are -a couple. They share a home and there is a picture of an infant with a Scully closer to the age they are now framed on a mantle, but the boy does not seem to be present in the dream or in the house. Did they have a son? What happened to him? Scully is packing a bag and crying. The older him in his dream is leaning against a wall; arms and legs crossed in front of him.

“Remember, this is your choice not mine, “ the older Mulder says quietly. His tone is neither angry nor sad. It is factual. Stating established facts which cannot be questioned.

“I just wish you could put it all behind you and live a normal life, Mulder.”

“You’ve said that to me before, Scully, and I told you this is who I was…who I am. You decided to commit to me anyway because you loved me. So what has changed?” “I’m tired. I never wanted a life of perpetual truth seeking. I wanted you and a normal life.”

“Then you shouldn’t have committed. There is no me and a normal life. There is either me or a normal life.”

Mulder wakes. He looks at the clock. 11 a.m. Well, he had almost managed to sleep through the morning. “Merry Fucking Christmas to me.”

He cannot help but think about last Christmas. He had told his mother, as he had this year, that he had to work. Last year he asked Scully to meet him at a haunted house on Christmas Eve.. It’s Christmas morning last year that haunts him this Christmas morning; Scully knocking on the door in the early hours, their exchange of gifts, giggling together, before she left to her family. It had been a brief couple of hours, but was the happiest Christmas morning of his adult life.

He tries to piece it together. What has happened between their trip to California and now which has ended with him alone on Christmas morning?

They came back with their plan to spend leisure Dana and Fox time together. They had. She had cooked him dinner in her apartment. He had taken her to play frisbee golf in the park. They went to museums and art galleries. She had dragged him for a pedicure one Saturday at a salon. Wonderful leisure hours. Over time, though, it became confusing. Were they a couple; albeit platonic? Were they fucking –oh, sorry, non-fucking-girlfriends? Was she in love with him? Any type of definitional discussion left them both frustrated and exhausted.

Then there was the day he walked into his next door apartment to see her sitting on a bed with a stranger. Was she really about to have sex with that man, that writer, who had gotten into her head? She had almost died –again. But the writer who seems to know her so well had suggested she was in love with him, Mulder.

While he ponders these memories, Mulder has gotten up, made coffee and now, in the shower, allows himself, as a special Christmas treat to himself, to remember his favorite memory of last year. They are on a baseball field. The kid shagging balls is long gone, but he hasn’t moved. His arms around Scully and her leaning back against him. He smells her hair, kisses her neck. The bat longed ago dropped to the ground, it is no longer about the game, but about them and he has stood for half an hour not talking- just holding her. Finally she whispers so softly he has to bend down to hear her “I can feel how much you want me, Fox.” She presses her behind into his groin. He had chuckled. “I always want you, Dana. I have never wanted a woman so much. I thought I had been in love before, but not like this.” She doesn’t say anything. She still can’t say the words to him and, as the night air became cooler, she simply turned, hugged him tight and walked away.

It was a week later –at her apartment- that she had asked him if he had ever thought about leaving the X files behind now that the conspiracy had been uncovered and most of the syndicate were dead. She had said that line she had repeated in his dreams. ‘I just wish you could put it all behind you and live a normal life, Mulder.” He had said to her just what he said in his dreams. “It's either me or a normal life, Scully. You can’t have both.” When she hadn’t responded, it was his turn to wordlessly walk away. Then, there was no more Fox and Dana leisure time for a while.

Then, another life changing catastrophe, the artifacts found in Africa, his illness, her finding him so close to death, Diana’s death. Without Dana in his leisure hours he had spent time with Diana again. That is the thing about unrequited love-the only way to get over it is to find someone who could love you back. He remembers the night he had been so sick, collapsing in the stairwell of an university, and had called Diana. Even as Diana had taken him home and helped him to bed, he had been irrationally angry at Scully. If she had loved him, if she could believe in him, if she wasn’t always trying to prove him wrong…she had called him, pressed him about who had answered the phones and he had told her to prove him wrong. If he had died, that would have been the last thing he said to her.

He had fallen asleep and woke up with Diana’s thoughts in his mind. She was nude, lying with her arms around his back as she used to do when they were really together. He knew now she loved him, but he knew all her other truths and everything she had lied to him about as well. His brain working so fast, his sanity slipping away, he had begged her to call Scully. Scully-he had to talk to her one last time before he slipped away…Sccuully! Neighbors had heard his screams and had called the police and he ended up in the psyche unit. Reading minds was the most horrendous thing he had ever experienced, but there was one blessing. The one time Scully had been allowed to see him. He knew then. She loved him as deeply as he loved her and she was afraid; afraid in the moment but equally afraid of loving him.

Mulder thinks he should call his mother to wish her a happy Christmas. He should find something to eat. It's mid afternoon now. He sits in the dark instead. He had never told Scully the details of his dreams –that he had been married to Diana with children and a simple life. Why Diana and not Scully? Because Scully would never have let him settled for that bullshit. Even in his dream life he was settling for Diana. The irony of it was that Scully wanted a normal life with him, but wanted him to be true to himself which would mean never having a normal life.

Mulder calls his mother. He talks to her less and less these days, but it is Christmas. He puts the phone down after a few minutes thinking well –that’s it, my Christmas.

A couple of weeks ago he had high hopes for this Christmas. After his near death experience and Diana’s death, he had told himself he would never settle. It was Scully or no one. They went back, each grateful it seemed, to leisure time Dana and Fox. He now knew she loved him, so the question was could she commit to him knowing he could never commit to a normal life. Would she ever be able to tell him she loved him?

Two weeks ago, walking back from the park hand in hand, he suggested they get away for the Christmas holiday.

“We could go to Vermont to a ski lodge, or Florida or back to California. Even Hawaii, Dana. Christmas in swimming gear- do you still have that black bathing suit?”

“I always spend Christmas with my family, Fox. Bill is coming in. I was hoping you would come with me this year for Christmas dinner.”

“Bill hates me.”

“There’s always some drama in families, Fox, but the benefits outweigh the drama.”

Mulder thought about his mother checking him out of the hospital to that cigarette smoking bastard, his father and his father’s willingness to risk Mulder’s life. Sometimes the family drama was so intense that the benefits did not make up for it.

“Will we be going as a couple, Dana? Are you ready to announce to your family that we are…whatever we are?”

“I could just tell them you don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“Your loser partner being dragged along. Bill will love that.”

‘Probably more than thinking we are…moving towards a romance.”

Mulder stopped walking and faced Scully. “I want to be alone with you. Show you that we can have interludes of normalcy even why involved in our common quest for the truth. I want to kiss you under the mistletoe and give you a gift right at midnight.”

“For me a normal life is Christmas with my family. Besides you make it sounds like we would have this romantic week-end. Are you willing to…share a bed?”

“Can you commit?”

Scully looked away from him. “So I would be just your loser partner being dragged along because he has no place better to go. You can’t see us as a couple.”

“Fox, this mistletoe you fantasizing about. Would you kiss me on the mouth? You know after all this time you still haven't. Do you think the world would end if you kissed me on the mouth?” Scully was angry, sad, frustrated and hurt at the same time. It was making her impatient with Mulder. Her eyes were flashing and she had tossed her hair back as she talked repeatedly.

“I can’t see what possible difference it would make at this juncture of our relationship if I kissed you on the mouth or not.” Mulder’s tone was that cold, aloof tone he used to hide his true feelings. He looked at her through half closed eyes.

And that was the end of the conversation. There had been no more Dana and Fox leisure time since. Before Christmas break, in their office, they had awkwardly said goodbye and that they would see each other in the New Year. Mulder rummages through the refrigerator and finds a beer and left over pizza. “Merry Fucking Christmas to me.”

It is December 29. Scully and her mother have returned from taking Bill and his family to the airport. Scully has agreed to spend the night with her mother so her mother wouldn’t be so suddenly alone after a house full of grandchildren and family. Scully had spent the night Christmas Eve and Christmas night, but had left at noon on the 26th and hadn’t came back until today. A couple of times Bill had made disparaging remarks about Mulder and, of course, she had defended Mulder. She would always defend Mulder, but she had been fatigued with the effort. She had spent two and a half frustrating days organizing her closets and preparing her receipts for taxes and not, absolutely not, expecting her phone to ring.

She sits now on her mother’s couch looking at the tree. If her father was alive, they would spend tomorrow taking it down, but, now, her mother always kept it up through New Years. Margaret Scully has a cup of tea in her hand to give to her daughter, but has stopped in the doorway. Her daughter has looked so sad this holiday season.

“How’s Fox, dear?” Margaret hands her daughter the tea.
“I don’t know, Mom. I haven’t seen him.”

“Is he in town?”

“As far as I know.”

“And you haven’t spent any time with him the last couple of days? I thought that’s why you haven’t been around.”

“No, Mom. We’re off duty and so I haven’t seen him. I just had other things to do.”

Margaret is well aware that in the last few months Fox and Dana have been spending leisure time together. She had even seen them once at an art museum when she went out one Saturday with a girlfriend. Also the beautician at the salon her and Dana went to had told her Dana brought in a very handsome, tall man for a pedicure. “What did he do for Christmas? You know I am very fond of him. It is so clear how much he cares for you.”

“Mom, I invited him over here. He didn’t want to come. He probably spent it alone or with some male friends.”

“Dana, you have got to learn to compromise.” Margaret’s tone was firm with her daughter and Scully looked up surprised. “You left him alone for Christmas. That poor boy.”

“Mom, did you not want me to spend Christmas with you?”

‘Of course, but children grow up and have their own life. Did you think about spending some time with him on Christmas Eve, maybe having dinner with him, and then coming here Christmas morning or leaving here Christmas morning to take him over some cookies? Maybe watch a Christmas movie with him? We’re all in the same town. Why not split your Christmas half with us and half with him?”

Margaret took the tea cups into the kitchen. Scully sat now dumbfounded by what was such a common sense approach to having conflicting loyalties over a holiday season. Why was it all or nothing, such a struggle with them even over the easy stuff? Why were two intelligent people so stupid and handling this relationship stuff so poorly?

Sex, Scully thought. This goddamn stubbornness of Mulder’s about sex was driving them both crazy. She has never wanted a man more. She had wanted him since the day they met, but now, with how close they were, knowing he loved her, sex has become this giant thing that was between them always. There were nights when they were on the phone and just the sound of his voice would lead her to touch herself. There were times when standing beside him, she couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying because he looked- he was lean, slender even, but strong with perfect biceps. How could she possibly have problem solved rationally that day walking home from the park? He had asked about her bathing suit and talked about kissing her. She suddenly remembered his hands on her body and was distracted by his lips. Damn, if she could just have sex with him one time, then she could think rationally about him and whether or not she wanted a life with him. How could she possibly make such an important decision as distracted as she was with just wanting him?

“Dana, are you ok? Your phone’s ringing.”

Dana takes the phone out of her purse. Skinner. A few minutes later, off the phone, Scully says “Mom, I won’t be able to spend New Years with you. I’m being recalled to work tomorrow for an emergency case.”

“I understand, dear.” Margaret sees the light back in her daughter’s eyes. Mulder must be on the case as well. She wonders when these two kids will realize the true nature of their relationship.

* END OF CHAPTER 5 *

Chapter 6: New Year's Together

Summary:

Timeframe: Season 7 After Millenium. Graphic sexual activity.

New Year’s Day 2000, 3:30 a.m. Scully arrives home. Her thoughts alternate between zombies and Armageddon. She knows that the four Angels of the Apocalypse will not be zombies raised from the dead. Yet, she has no scientific explanation for having been attacked by a man who was living, although she was sure he had been dead, or from shooting and killing a zombie which was about to kill Mulder. What r

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