Title: Absolute Beginners (Chapters 1-4)
Author: diehard
Rating: 17+ 
Classification: S/R, Humor (hopefully), Alternate 
Universe...people are actually happy here.
Spoilers: Everything through the first third of Season 7, close 
after the Millennium episode. Some license with the death of 
Melissa and Emily.
Keywords: confession, sex, and happy ending, with detours 
along the way.
Summary: Our heroes finally decide to do the dirty deed. 
Sex, love, all the rest. What might have occurred before 
the last two thirds of Season 7.
Disclaimers: You know, they're not mine. They're Chris 
Carter's. Just using them for the fun, no money involved.
Archive: Yes, anywhere. Just keep it intact.
Feedback: Yes, please. you can contact me: 
alvaradomccain@earthlink.net

Folks, this is my first foray into fanfic, so be gentle. Might I 
also add that I had to write this as a response to the end of the 
last season. Much, much thanks to Alicia K., and Nikki B for 
their beta wisdom, general support and encouragement of 
this fledgling author.


Absolute Beginners  by diehard     Chapter 1
  
Part 1

Friday Night

"Shit!"  "Fuck!"  "Sorry."  "Sorry."  " S'cuse me."  "Yeah, I 
know I'm a real tool..." Mulder's expletives and half-assed 
apologies trailed after him as he charged down the 4th floor 
hall. He'd just escaped the annual audit. And he was free-
free at last, thank god all mighty, free at last. Eight hours of 
his life had been sucked down the drain, highlighted by the 
droning, torturous indictment of how he and Scully spent the 
FBI's money. He'd had infuriated the poor accountant, 
offering only his usual wads of coffee stained receipts and 
not much more. When the poor schmuck finally gave up and 
sprung him, Mulder didn't even notice that the guy'd called 
him a dick. After pushing his way past a raft of new recruits, 
one ASAC, and practically knocking over a file clerk, he slid 
into the elevator. Punching the button with a vengeance, he 
descended to the level everyone else called the 'LTZ '  for 
'Less Than Zero.' Mulder checked his watch, it was close to 
six. He clutched for a second when he thought she might 
have left and he'd be stuck with his own sorry ass. Another 
sign of how far gone he was.

Coming up on the office, he got a glimpse of her through 
the partially open door.  Beautiful Scully.  Mulder stopped 
and hovered just outside the threshold.  Click.  Another 
imaginary photo for a file labeled 'off limits.' She'd told him a 
million times how she hated the way men stared at her, and 
stare at her they did. He shoved his hands in his pockets 
and sighed, knowing he was just as bad as the rest of the 
knuckle-draggers, although he'd hidden it better until 
just recently.  Beautiful Scully.  It had stopped being 
a purely sexual thing a long time ago, and it was too late 
to stop himself now.   

His chest tightened with an ache that was now a fairly 
common occurrence, and out of nowhere he remembered a 
line of Yeats,  "...one man loved  the pilgrim's soul in you,  
And loved the sorrows of your changing face."   Seven years 
of sorrows had caressed that face.  Beautiful Scully.  There 
had been so many losses, missteps, so many times he 
thought he'd never see her again. He stood just to the side 
of the threshold, with his hands shoved in his pockets, 
adding to the 'untouchable file' collection.  "Beautiful. Brainy. 
Brave.  Good, Mulder," he muttered, "you've covered the 
'B's'. That Oxford education didn't go to waste."  He took a 
deep breath and walked in.

Scully was aware of him lurking in the hall. What the 
hell was up with him these days? Was he watching her more 
or was she just noticing it more? Normally she'd care, but 
right now she had her own problems.  She was in his chair, 
staring at the ceiling, hurtling pencils at the tiles just like 
she'd seen him do a thousand times. Her dark blue long 
jacket was unbuttoned, hanging on her shoulders a little 
crookedly. Scully's heart sped up when he came through 
the doorway and finally made his way to the desk. 
Tossing back her hair, she bit down on her lip and shot one off 
as his footsteps came closer.  Pretending to be utterly consumed 
with this fascinating activity, she sized him up out of the 
corner of her eye--he looked unsettled. She'd blown 
his customary cool. Good, he thought, turnabout is fair play.  
Allow me to rattle your cage, Agent Mulder. 						

Someone had rewritten the story of her life.  Scully in 
Wonderland fell down the twisted rabbit hole and when she 
came to, casual death and random brutality where the order 
of the day. And didn't flinch when the personal costs got 
salted into her very soul.  She shocked them all, throwing in 
her lot with his, their lives becoming a pattern of interlocking 
sorrows: Samantha, their fathers, Melissa, cancer, Emily. 
What baffled her was how, in the midst of all of it,  Mulder 
kept reaching out to her, and against her better judgement, 
she reached back. A  powerful thing had locked them in 
each other's orbit; and Scully had her suspicions as to what 
it was.  Mulder would have said it was fate, bashert, 'la forza 
del destino.'  He made her feel too much, want too much. The 
idea that she'd fall in love with him seemed preposterous 
seven years ago.                                                               

More pencils shot to the ceiling. He had to be right behind 
her, she could feel it. She didn't dare look, she might lose 
her nerve. Very unprofessional thoughts were whirling in her 
head, but Scully kept them at bay. It was astounding, really, 
how he made her feel. Even more astounding, she was 
going to do something about it.

What happened to crack the wall? It was something as 
simple as a comment after her last check up. 
A week ago, she had been siting on the exam table, 
being told she was fine, her cancer still in remission. 
On the way out, the nurse made an offhand remark, 
telling her to go home and celebrate with the man she loved.  
One shot, straight to the heart. 
Scully went home, and took a long hard look at her 
life, what she had, what she didn't, and why the hell  the 
man she loved was only as close as a voice on her cell 
phone.  Melissa and Emily were still dead.  Serious, logical 
Agent Scully had tried to even the score by not living herself.  
Tried and failed.  A casual remark became a revelation. It 
worked on her all week, all day Friday, up until now.  This 
afternoon her last, brittle piece of reserve crumbled away. 
Scully screwed up her courage; she'd had enough. She was 
fed up with her own hesitancy, his too. Mulder was going to 
get the full court press; and once and for all she would know 
what was really possible.

"Scully, what are..."

"Shhhh, Mulder! "

"I thought you'd be halfway home by now. It's way past 5, 
and last time I checked it was still Friday. Just what are you 
still doing here?"

She put the pencils down, straightened her jacket, smoothed 
her skirt and rose to meet him. They stood face to face in 
front of his desk. Scully spoke deliberately, and tried to hold 
back the smile playing at the corners of her mouth.  "We've 
got to stop this. It's time, Mulder."

"Stop what?"  Jesus Christ, she's finally realized that she 
deserves a life, you conspiracy-ridden asshole...Mulder felt 
his stomach knot, his mind race. He was about to hit the wall 
at 90 miles an hour. Time to crash and burn. Hurry, you're a 
smart man, say something, say anything. He opened his 
mouth, and she covered it with her hand.

"Shut up, Mulder, and listen. I'm on to you. I'm on to what's 
been happening for the last three months, almost every 
weekend. It's Friday, and sometime between now and 
Sunday night you'll call me with the 'urgent paperwork 
needing to be done by Monday', and when you show up at 
my door you'll have little else in hand beside a pizza and a 
bad movie. Could it possibly be that you want to be with me? 
You've kissed me,  I've kissed you. We've stayed in god-
only-knows how many motel rooms, how long do you think 
it's going to take you?"

His hazel eyes flickered with curiosity now,  "How long is it 
going to take me to do what, Scully?"  Maybe he had it all 
wrong, maybe she was going to throw him a bone, maybe 
he wasn't doomed to be Monster Boy, forever dwelling in the 
basement.

Scully could feel her irritation growing. My brilliant Mulder, 
box of clues here, she thought ruefully,  Pay attention. 
Chewing her lip, she eyed him up and down, wondering if it 
might be easier just to kill him. She decided to spare him, at 
least for the time being. But there was no way he was 
getting off the hook, even though it appeared his IQ had 
taken a serious plunge in the last few minutes.   "How long 
were you going to take to get it through your thick head that I 
kind of saw through your carefully orchestrated deceit? And 
that I kept opening the door, because I wanted to be with 
you, too?"

She'd just told him she'd been waiting for him...Jesus, this 
was too much.  "Well, it's just.. I didn't want to...."  
He felt his face get hot-- she was not going to embarrass him, 
he couldn't possibly be embarrassed. All right, Scully,  
do it.  I'll be right behind you. Just make your move. 
I'll be all over it, I swear.

She grabbed his tie, and enjoyed the surprise in his face.  
This was it.  Well, go on. Jump, Dana.  "I'm only going to say 
this once. Tonight we're going to pretend we're normal 
adults. We're still relatively young and healthy. You're 
coming to dinner at my place, at eight, and you are going to 
bring dessert. Is that understood? Nod once for yes, twice 
for no."

Mulder nodded once and grinned.

Her  hands slid to his lapels,  her thumbs rubbing the fabric.  
"I don't have to write this out for you, do I?"  Her tone was 
serious, but her eyes were bright, teasing.

"I think you've made yourself perfectly clear."  Mulder 
matched her tone. "Normal people, dinner at eight, dessert. 
OK,  I've got that down."   His eyes glinted as if he was 
enjoying a private joke.  I'm on it, Scully. 
I'll give you a run for your money.

"Good. Well all right then, I'll be leaving."  She let her hands 
fall away. "Okay, then." 

"Okay yourself." Mulder crossed his arms over his chest and 
watched her leave the office and disappear into the elevator.

He paused for a minute and headed down the hall. He had 
things to do, and he knew better than to be late.

(End 1/4)

Part 2

It was about ten before eight. Scully managed to stop on her 
way home at a nearby market. Groceries were scattered on 
the kitchen table, and a bottle of a good white was chilling. 
Mulder didn't know it yet, but she was going to put him to 
work. She looked around her apartment. It was neat, orderly. 
No one laid around all Sunday, half-asleep on the couch 
pretending to read the paper. No one threw his clothes on 
the floor, or dragged her from what she was doing to take a 
shower with him in the middle of Saturday afternoon. No one 
ever grabbed her in front of the kitchen sink, sat her on the 
counter, and made love to her right there because he 
couldn't wait. Her apartment, with its clean, quiet coldness 
said more about her than she liked. 

She went to the bedroom closet and took out all the things 
she had put away after Melissa was killed. When she first 
found out, all Scully felt was a searing pain, an urge to 
scream, smash everything, and pull the trigger of her 
revolver and shoot anything that moved. She knew if she let 
her feelings out she'd die in their wake. Or someone else 
would.

Instead, she was Icy Agent Scully;  working the forensic 
search, cleaning up her sister's blood with her own hands. 
She ignored Mulder, ignored everyone, and did what she 
was trained to do. After everyone had left, she locked herself 
in the bathroom, knelt down in the shower and cried out to 
God for the strength to get up and go on. Rivulets of water 
ran down her back and legs as she'd shook from sorrow and 
rage, sobbing until she could barely move. When it was 
done, she got dressed and silently went through the 
apartment boxing up anything that represented pleasure, 
passion, enjoyment; the things she shared with Melissa.

After she found Emily and had to watch her die, she walled 
herself  in even more. She blamed herself every day for not 
being able to nail Alex Krycek, the Smoking Man, all of them 
to the wall. Scully carried around grief and guilt believing 
there would never be an end to it.

Tonight she took out the candles and the jazz recordings 
and loaded up the CD player. She lit candles everywhere 
she could think of and played music she'd almost forgotten 
she had. Scully let herself think about her sister, feel her 
presence. Tonight seemed like the night for more than one 
kind of resolution.  Melissa had always been more open, 
taking pleasure in the moment, in the fact that your life 
happened now, with all its contradictions. Five years had 
passed and there was finally a hard-won peace, an 
imperfect one. Blame was not a legacy Melissa would have 
left for her.

And Emily? A dead child in a litany of them. But Emily was 
hers, gone before Scully could ever know her. That loss was 
embedded in her heart like a stone. There would be no 
others. She had dreams about losing her, dreams of failing, 
and falling short. It was just a part of her life, who she was 
now, another one of the Mulder and Scully interlocking 
sorrows.

She stood facing the bedroom mirror and took a long, 
careful look, fingering the chain and the little cross that was 
always there,  her personal talisman.  She wore little 
makeup: lipstick, not much else. Her face was soft, and she 
seemed younger to herself, not so serious, so austere.  
Scully knew how to put on a game face, she had to. She 
needed it to command the respect of fellow agents and back 
down suspects. More and more, she'd used it to hide from 
herself.  Agent  Scully here.  Nothing but the facts, no, 
nothing at all.

Tonight, the face looking back at her was a different woman. 
Still damp from the shower, her hair was slicked back, a 
darker red as she stood in the light. She pushed a strand 
gently behind her ears. She dared herself tonight, wearing 
clothes she bought with Melissa's encouragement: a white, 
fitted sweater that left her neck and shoulders bare; panties; 
a long, black skirt that wrapped around her waist. She 
slipped into a pair of black heels and said goodnight to 
Agent Scully, Doctor Scully, autopsies, black oil, the way her 
SIG felt as she pulled the trigger. She was not that woman 
tonight, she didn't know about those things. She wanted to 
be the woman in the mirror. 

Something made her think of her last summer, and the 
phone message from one "Fox Mantle;"  Mulder's arms 
around her as she hit ball after ball into the summer night. 
They'd sat on the hood of his car afterward, watching stars 
for a long time, Mulder touching the back of her neck with 
his fingers. And then there was the look he gave her--the 
kind of look that told her she could lay him bare. Over the 
last year, he'd let her know in small, subtle ways that he'd 
seen another side of her, that he felt drawn to it. She thought 
kissing him on New Year's might make things different. But 
neither one of them ever stepped across the invisible line 
between what they did, what they had to do, and what they 
wanted.

(End 2/4)

Part 3

Mulder stood outside her door; it was just now  8 o'clock. He 
was wearing a black dress shirt, black pants and his leather 
jacket. His duffel bag slung over his shoulder, carrying what 
he'd gotten for later.  He was sure she wasn't expecting 
what he'd brought. A quick run of his fingers through his hair, 
then he knocked and waited. There were the sounds of Billy 
Strayhorn's piano from behind the door. Finally, it opened 
and there she was. For a moment Mulder couldn't move or 
speak. At last, the words came.  "God, you look amazing."  
Walking through the door, he set his bag of the floor of the 
foyer. She seemed pleased and slightly nervous, and if he 
was honest, he'd have to say he was too. He went on to let 
himself enjoy what she was wearing, and not wearing, 
realizing something else was going on besides than 
appreciation, amazement or nervousness.  Something 
located further south.

"Amazing? That's a pretty strong word."  Was she blushing? 
The hell with it, she didn't care. She took his jacket and 
rested her hand against his chest. The Gunmen had just 
done one of their regular bug hunts in the last week and 
came up with nothing. Scully sent them a silent thank you. 
No surveillance tonight.  A small miracle.  "You don't look too 
bad yourself, Mulder.  But I was wondering, are you planning 
on going to the gym later?"  She cocked her head toward the 
bag."

"Oh, that's for later, if you're good."

"Excuse me?" She tossed him a withering look.

"It's dessert, nothing sinister. Unless of course you like 
sinister."  Mulder was cracking wise and feeling pretty good 
at the moment. She reached for the bag. His hand shot out 
and caught her wrist.  "No, Agent Scully,  I don't think so."  
He snatched the duffel and sprinted into the living room.

"Someone is behaving like a little prick."

"That's a little harsh. Dana Katherine Scully, does your 
mother know you talk like that?"

"There's a variety of bad habits I have that my mother 
attributes to you, as does Bill, by the way."  Scully turned her 
back momentarily and hung his jacket in the closet. When 
she turned around, she saw he'd opened a window, and was 
sprawled on the sofa, feet up and grinning.

"It's almost spring. And a beautiful night, I just wanted to 
enjoy it."

"Make yourself  at home, by all means. Is there anything 
else I can get you?"  She hoped her sarcasm was not lost on 
him.

He waved her on.  "You may bring me my dinner, woman. 
Go, go on."

Scully walked across the living room to the sofa. She 
reached behind his neck and tried to pull him up by the 
collar.  "Get up, Mulder. Now."

He stirred himself and took his time getting to his feet. He 
was having too good a time.

"Dinner is going to be a joint effort."  She was facing him, her 
eyes were  dark points of blue, intense with a kind of 
concentration that almost felt foreign to her. She took each 
arm, one by one, and rolled up his sleeves.  "I guess we 
should get started. Allow me, it's the least I can do for 
tonight's help."  Without thinking, her fingers drifted slowly up 
and down his arm.  As soon as she could touch his skin, she 
knew she wasn't going to be making dinner.

The sounds of Charlie Parker's sax drifted toward where 
they stood. He closed the gap between them, slowly shaking 
his head. "Sorry, Scully. I can't wait."  Screw small talk, 
dinner, the rest of it--I don't have the patience anymore. 
Change in plans, partner--mine, yours.

Mulder traced the outline of her mouth with his tongue and 
shuddered when her lips parted and her tongue met his. 
This was real. Aching and longing rushed through him. 
Everything sped up and whirled around where he stood. His 
hands laced behind her head, his fingers tangled in her hair, 
his fingertips pressing hard on her skull. Kissing her over 
and over again, his mouth burning against hers.  No more 
pain.  No more remnants of past disasters. It was all stripped 
away.  Something else was here for him.  Mulder ran his lips 
over her brow, her eyelids, her nose, the lines of her jaw.  
He felt free. It's different now, Scully.  You.  Me.   Now.   
Let me show you.   Let me.

She felt herself let go. Nothing was complicated or conflicted 
anymore.  No more disillusionment.   No more keeping it all 
at bay.  Everything slowed down around her, stopped, and 
disappeared.  Everything but them. Nothing can touch us, 
Mulder. She broke away from him and pressed open 
mouthed-kisses along his eyelids, his forehead, down his 
cheek to his jaw.  Tenderly biting his earlobe, she moved to 
the ridge of muscle in his neck that ran down to his shoulder 
and tried to memorize each move he made as her teeth 
grazed his skin.

Mulder's arms slid down to her waist. As much as he didn't 
want to stop, he needed her to banish the last demon.  "Last 
chance to save yourself."  He tried to keep his tone light. He 
tried telling himself it wasn't as if his whole life had boiled 
down to this moment, but it was a lie. What he wanted was 
no reservations, what he wanted was to feel her pressing 
against him again, offering him everything he had dreamt 
about in his solitary bed. Forty was bearing down on him 
now, and some nights he told himself maybe he'd never find 
Samantha.  He needed a real life, starting here, starting 
now. If she hesitated, if she said no, he would leave and try 
to pretend; he had years of practice under his belt. Fox 
Mulder could live with not having if he had to; he was the 
world's leading authority on the subject. Whatever you want, 
Scully, whatever you need.  But you better tell me quick.

"Too late, partner."  Scully tried to match his nonchalance.  
"You're stuck with me. But what about you, Mulder?  Still in 
for the long haul?"  No matter how terrified they might be, 
she knew it was nothing but an excuse now. She took his 
hands away, and with both of hers, placed them over his 
heart.

There was a moment's silence.

"I'm in, Scully, I'm in. "

Her arms slid over his shoulders and she murmured, "Here's 
your chance to prove it."  Mulder pushed one of his hands 
underneath her sweater, dragging his fingers across 
her naked back. The feel of her skin coursed through him, 
and he felt himself getting hard.  "Beautiful Scully." 
At last he could say it out loud. "You'll never get rid of me."  
Slowly tracing a path with his tongue 
down her neck toward its hollow, he made his way toward 
the little cross. Mulder found her collarbone, and pressed 
his lips against its curve. Against her flesh and bone 
he told her over and over how much he loved her.

Her body twisted against his.  More.  She had to have more.  
The ripple of muscle, the pressure of bone on bone was a 
flashpoint for her. Not thinking, just feeling; she was already 
wet, her nipples hard. Twisting her fingers through his thick, 
dark hair, swiping his mouth with hers, a rush of something 
elemental and possessive ran through her.  Scully pulled 
away from him a little, took one of his hands, and kissed 
each fingertip, tracing each whorl with her lips. She was 
marking him, making sure he understood.  "Mine. All mine 
now."

He was aching with want by this time, and rolled subtly 
against her, the crest of his hip locked against her pliant 
stomach. Her eyes were half-closed and she swayed into 
him as he moved. It was time to get serious.  
"Now that you got me, what are you gonna do with me?"

And then they both started laughing. It was throaty, wicked, 
unmistakably sexual. No more minimum safe distance. 
Grabbing each other, mouths and tongues moving, biting 
each other's lower lip, hands fluttering under clothes, they 
began to cross the kitchen floor. Mulder took the lead, 
backing Scully out of the room with shuffling, metered steps. 
He bent at the waist to keep himself head-to-head with her, 
his hands now locked under the wrap of her skirt, her fingers 
curved around his belt loops. Out of the corner of his eye, he 
navigated the land mines, twisting around the furniture. 
Snaking her to the bedroom, he could hear the shuffle of 
their footsteps.

He pushed the door with one hand and kept going.

The bedroom was almost dark. The candles had almost all 
burned out. The music had stopped playing and they were 
alone in the stillness. They were a little out of breath, but 
made quick work of it: kicking off shoes, sliding out of shirt 
and pants, skirt and sweater, peeling away the rest. Scully 
turned back the bedding, cool white sheets rustling under 
her hands. She reached up for him, and caught him around 
the waist, pulling on him onto the bed. He began to move 
away.  "No hope of escape,"  she said, softly laughing. 

"Don't want to escape...Scully, let me look at you." He was 
smiling, but his eyes began to darken, "I need to remember 
everything."

"Then let's make a memory, Mulder."

They stretched out on the bed half-covered, facing each 
other in the dim light; and traced a map of their bodies: the 
slope of her breasts, the hollow of her stomach, the line of 
his thighs, the muscles of his back. They were riddled with 
scars--the two of them, soldiers marked by the unforgiving 
and apocalyptic. Scully's unflinching eye scanned the suture 
marks on his skull, she took her thumb and gently touched 
the last place he was invaded, courtesy of Diana Fowley. 
The thin knotty scar underneath his ribs reminded her of the 
first time she'd seen a woman hurt him. Women always 
seemed to be hurting him. A grief she thought long over was 
reborn as she traced with her  finger the spot where she'd 
shot him herself.  She'd loved him enough to shoot him.  
Sad.  And then she thought how truly sad an offering she 
must be: naked, sterile, gunshot--thanks to Ritter, traitorous 
cells lying dormant in her body, a chip in her neck that might 
be saving her or might be branding her. She thought of 
everything that had been lost and felt herself start to freeze 
up.  No, not now.  Please, not now.  Maybe what she wanted 
was too much to hope for; that together they were more than 
that.

She hated what happened next: she flinched--she actually 
tried to pull away from the one man she wanted.  Mulder 
was the love of her life, but seven years had taken their toll.  
She knew what she was, and what she wasn't.  She was no 
goddess, no prize, she had long given up on happy endings 
and fairy tales. He couldn't want...

He reached for her, insistent, almost desperate. 
"No...don't...."  He tried to use his body to tell her, 
to make it right. He could feel his arousal ebb away, 
but it didn't matter. Mulder held her by the shoulder 
with one hand and with the other smoothed her forehead, 
trying to draw out the sadness.  "Stay with me, Scully."  
He eased her head to a spot on his chest 
near the gunshot scar.  "Here...just stay," 
running his hand gently up and down her back. 
It was like that for a long time.  
He could feel her start to cry without a sound, hot tears, 
tears that broke his heart open.

Scully tried to pull herself together, hoping maybe she could 
stop it all from falling apart . She should've known better, 
should've kept things on an even keel, should've gone on 
like always. "My God, I'm  sorry..I'm so sorry..."

Now Mulder had his chance. "This morning I woke up alone, 
and thought I would go to bed alone tonight..."  He watched 
her close her eyes, then he moved his face close to hers.  
"This is who we are.  All of it, everything...
Look at me, Scully."  His voice was reaching for her--
almost begging, trying to unknot her pain, release it.  
"I'm yours. As much as that's a life sentence for you, 
I can't help it."

She was still now, the crying had at last stopped. With a 
deep, deep breath, she shuddered out the last of it. Her 
eyes opened, and she began to kiss him-- full, rich kisses--
earthy, luscious. Scully caressed the side of his face, 
covering his ears with her hands, blocking out the world, 
capturing him. There was only her touch, her small, strong 
hands holding him fast, her mouth on his.

He grabbed her by the waist and slid under her so that she 
could straddle him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, 
her fingers locking around the ridge of bone. He took 
the tips of his fingers and began to trace little circles 
down her neck, across her collarbone to her breasts. 
Then he let them dance over their curves, teasing her 
nipples. She tried to talk but all the words dwindled away. 
Scully barely noticed how hard Mulder was breathing 
beneath her. Looking down at him, her eyes narrowed 
with pleasure as he took one of her hands in his, 
and slid them gently between her legs. With his 
hand resting over hers, she began to stroke her clit and let 
herself revel in how good it all was. And she found the place 
in herself she thought hidden for too long, or maybe killed 
off. All of a sudden, and without a word, Scully took her 
fingertips and placed them on his lips.

He grabbed her hand, hungrily licking her fingers, savoring 
her. Salty. Sweet. His heart was pounding in his chest, the 
taste of her tore through him. He had to touch her, he 
couldn't take it anymore. Mulder took his thumb and teased 
his way through her thatch of reddish curly hair, and started 
to groan when he found that gorgeous swollen clit. He 
traced tiny circles around and around, moving lightly, slowly, 
mimicking the rhythm she'd shown him. He loved every inch 
of her skin, how she moved under the pressure of each 
circle.  Beautiful...so beautiful.  She was so wet; it made him 
unbelievably aroused.  There was some joke about blood 
rushing to the other head, but he couldn't remember it now; 
he just had to be inside of her soon.

The breath flew from her in a sharp exhale. His thumb traced 
around and around on her slick and tender clit and soon 
there were no more thoughts, nothing but Mulder touching, 
nothing but moving in waves against him. Her thighs started 
to tremble and the slow unfolding and release began. Scully 
bent forward, her hands still holding him fast, her breasts 
rubbing his chest, her hair brushing his collarbone. Opening 
and closing, she could feel it-- she was coming, slowing and 
quickening, again and again. Scully had to have him. 
Grabbing him with greedy fingers, she moaned when she 
felt how hard and beautiful he was. She guided him in 
slowly, gasping the moment he entered. He felt so huge, 
and she was tight around him, covering every inch of him. 
She clenched around him, her thighs pressing down on his, 
moving back and forth, a rhythm of back and forth. A brief 
image of them dancing flashed in her mind. This was older 
than that, beyond music, beyond words, something in their 
bones, older than their sorrows, much older and stronger. 

Mulder could feel her slow thrusts, the hard planes of their 
hips, the grip of her hands. The charge was building, he 
couldn't tell how long he would last. He was a coil ratcheting  
tighter and tighter. She was bearing down, coming, and his 
cock surged toward every move she made. She was still 
coming--God, yes.  Please.  He was losing it, he couldn't 
hold on much longer.   Yes, I can feel you.   Mine.  Beautiful 
Scully.   Yes.   There's only one answer, now.   Yes.   Time 
seemed to unravel, along with every lonely thing inside him. 
Mulder had no idea how long they'd been like this when he 
shuddered, released and dissolved into her. 

He was gone, didn't know anything, didn't care.   Scully.  
God, yes.

(End 3/4)

Part 4

They lay facing each other, silent in the dark for a long time 
afterward. Hands brushed away the hair out of each other's 
eyes, fingers traveled the outlines of each other's face,  
burning the memory into the cells of their bodies. It was late 
now, and moments passed without a sound.

"Mulder..."  Her voice was a mock-whisper.

"Hm?"

"I'm hungry."

"God, so am I."  He began to kiss her neck.

Scully went on.  "For food, Mulder, for food."  She stretched 
out the last word.

"Well, Scully, if we were to try to reconstruct the 
circumstances surrounding tonight's invitation,  I believe I 
was the one offered dinner, and yet..."

A whoosh, a soft splat, and shocked silence. Scully had hit 
him with a pillow. He waited a beat, then slid the pillow from 
his face. "I assume this means you want me to take care of 
this."

"Well, you did bring dessert. I'll keep your spot warm."  
Scully watched him disappear. Outstanding gluteus 
maximus, she noted appreciatively.

Mulder slid out of bed and loped toward where he left the 
duffel. He was back in a second and stood at the foot of the 
bed, swinging the bag back and forth.  "You find me 
amusing, after I went to all this trouble."

Scully looked up at him, and grinned from ear to ear. She 
blew wisps of hair away from her face, trying to get a better 
view of this enjoyable display.  "Let's see, naked man, 
swinging duffel bag...I think this makes for the stuff of 
comedy, don't you?"  Lunging to the end of the bed, she 
managed to snake her arms around his waist.

"Well, and what do we say when we want dessert?"  He was 
grinning, smug as hell, holding the bag at arm's length, 
making sure it was outside Scully's reach. He could hear a 
peal of laughter coming from her general direction.

"Bite me, Mulder." She was actually hoping he'd do that 
later.

"Well, that would certainly satisfy my craving."  He kept 
dangling the bag, fully relishing giving her a hard time.  "How 
'bout whispering something soft and low...That just might get 
you something for your sweet tooth."  He looked at Scully, 
then looked at the bag. 

By this time, Scully was ready to exact her revenge.  "I've 
got something for you,"  she murmured. Leaning into him, 
she slid up his body slowly, tracing a path with her fingers 
along his chest. With precise detail, she ran her tongue 
against his earlobe and bit it. Exactly as she'd  hoped, there 
was a sharp intake of breath and a stifled moan. 

"Scully!"

She fell back onto the bed, laughing, truly pleased with 
herself.   Mulder stood there for a minute, dumbstruck, then 
shook himself and regrouped. He went to the bag on the 
dresser and took out a cutting board, a hammer, and a 
cook's slab of Belgian chocolate. In one swift motion, he hit 
the slab with the hammer, and she watched it shatter into 
pieces.  "You're a deeply twisted man."

"Scary, isn't it?"  He tossed her a piece and crawled back 
into bed next to her.  She bit off a little, letting it slowly melt 
on her tongue. Mulder ate his, enjoyed it. He watched her 
quizzically. Her expression was entirely beyond enjoyment. 
She looked blissful, rapt.  
"Uh, Scully..."

"Shhhh. I'm having a mind-altering experience here."  She 
closed her eyes and leaned back.

"I thought we had that earlier this evening."

"Mulder, this is chocolate. It has the capacity to alter brain 
chemistry at the molecular level."

"I've got something here that'll alter your brain chemistry."  
He traced the outline of her mouth with his finger,  feeling he 
could definitely be distracted from this conversation.

"Jesus, you're unbelievable. Mulder, you leave me no choice 
but to shut you up." She grabbed him by the back of his 
head and pulled him on top of her.

(End of 4/4)  

End of Chapter 1

*****************************************************************

Absolute Beginners  by diehard     Chapter 2


Part 1/3

Saturday

It was before 9 am, late for Scully on a normal Saturday 
morning. 

She stirred softly against his chest. They had fallen asleep 
half-sitting, her back to his front, bedclothes scattered 
everywhere. Their skin was warm, and the early morning 
light played over them. Rolling slowly to her side, she eased 
herself up to face him, and as she moved along his body 
she felt the simple pleasure of skin against skin, not knowing 
fully where she stopped and Mulder started. She let herself 
finger a lock of his hair and brushed his temple with her 
thumb.

His face was a breath away from hers when he'd begun to 
waken, his eyes blinking slowly, shaking off the last of a 
dream. The first fully conscious thing he saw was the 
contours of her face. He stretched and she began to roll 
away. In one quick movement, Mulder shot one arm around 
her waist and pulled her back. He slid them both down so 
they were facing each other, and threw his leg over her hip.

"Hey..."  Scully cupped his chin in her hands and kissed him. 
She couldn't believe she'd waited seven years to do things 
that felt so natural. Simple things. Not that anything else 
about them or their lives could be called simple, it's just that 
she'd stopped waiting for the promise of the hereafter to be 
happy. Still facing him, Scully propped herself up by the 
elbow. The sunlight lit her face and the tangle of her hair. 
She crooked a finger toward him, "I think you should come 
here."

Mulder leaned into her and wondered if he looked a little 
goofy by now. He leaned in a little more and planted a slow, 
lingering kiss on that outstanding mouth. And then another, 
biting her lower lip. He let himself pause and let out a deep 
sigh, the back of  his head sinking into the pillow, his eyes 
drifting shut.  "Scully, what would Sister Margaret Mary say?  
No reward in heaven for you, young lady." 

After nuzzling the spot behind his ear until she heard a 
growling noise, Scully whispered, "I suppose you could get 
up and ask her, but frankly, I'd rather you stay here."  She 
tickled his lashes with her tongue and felt him grab her 
shoulder.  "Since you're implying I'm going to hell, you're not 
getting off the hook. Face it partner, wherever I go, I'm 
taking you with me."

Her partner, however, was not interested in the metaphysical 
any more, corporeal concerns were now much more 
compelling. Mulder rallied the troops, so to speak...Fuck the 
afterlife, Scully, he mused, or better yet, let's just fuck.  
"C'mon, Scully, let's raise the dead, let the laying on of 
hands begin!  Teach me the Hallelujah chorus!"  He rolled 
onto his back and threw his arms over his head, "I'm ready 
for the rapture, take me, Sister Scully." 

"And exactly what would I be getting out of this?" 

"Name it...I aim to please, you know." 

"Honestly?" She chewed on her lower lip and squinted. He 
was going to have to wait a little before she jumped his 
bones, cocky bastard. Cocky indeed. "Hmmm...let me see...I 
really want some breakfast."

"Are you sure I couldn't interest you in something else?"  His 
eyes raked their way up and down her body. Not a single 
shred of subtlety, but at least no one could say his 
objectives were unclear. Mulder made a brief mental 
assessment...I know, Scully...tacky, tacky, but it's worth a 
shot, I got it bad, no doubt about it.

"Mulder, I'm starving, so much so that I'm willing to take the 
risk of sending you to the kitchen. And while you're out there 
I'll just get under the covers and wait for you." With those 
words she slid away, snatched all the covers and left a 
naked Mulder on the edge of the bed. And he did what any 
self-respecting, badge-wearing, gun-toting, red-blooded 
male would do after being given the heave-ho. He got up 
and made breakfast.

Scully had curled up on the far side of the bed. She'd 
cocooned herself so that only the top of her head was 
visible, a red blip in a sea of white sheets. She hovered in 
that shimmery state between wakefulness and sleep, barely 
able to keep track of her own breathing. Some time had 
passed and she thought heard noise coming from her 
kitchen, then movement coming down the hall toward the 
bedroom. The next thing she knew, someone was in her 
room and had set something on the dresser.

"It's room service, FBI-style."  Mulder was standing by the 
edge of the bed, leaning over her, wearing yesterday's 
clothes, his black dress shirt half tucked in. Miraculously, 
he'd found his shoes and socks. His hair was standing on 
end and he needed a shave, but he felt great. He caught a 
look at himself in the bedroom mirror, and grinched at his 
less than suave visage. He thought he might scare her off if 
she got a good look at him. Lucky for him, he was bearing 
gifts. He moved toward the bed and began to peel away the 
sheets. A tray with food was behind him. Mulder stood back 
up and handed her a plate.  "Feeling pretty smug right now, 
are we? I suggest you start eating your breakfast soon--I'm 
not someone to be toyed with."		

"I seem to have gotten a different impression last 
night...Let's see, what do we have here?...scrambled eggs 
and toast."  She wrinkled up her nose, made a minor 
performance out of sniffing the plate before her, and finally 
gave it the seal of approval. "Not bad, doesn't appear to be 
burnt--I might actually keep you around, Mulder." 

Mulder watched, mesmerized, as she put it away. But he'd 
been starving too, and trying to seem indignant was hard to 
do while stuffing his face. Between mouthfuls he warned,   
"I am a dangerous man, there's no telling what I'll do 
if pushed too far."

Scully was a little distracted. "Dangerous man....Uh-huh ... 
OK."   Sex, food, sleep. One down, one underway, one to 
go. The basic animal instincts held sway over her at the 
moment; verbal jousting with the man across form her would 
have to wait. Her plate was just about clean and she paused 
to dab at her mouth with her napkin.  "Almost done.  
How about you?"

Mulder swallowed a huge bite of toast. The two of them 
were devouring everything in fairly short order. But he was 
still hungry for something else.   "Not even close to done, 
Scully," and as he watched that gorgeous mouth, he 
unconsciously licked at his bottom lip.  "Believe me."

The food, lack of sleep and last night's exertion was catching 
up to her, and she curled back up under the covers. Her 
eyelids felt heavy. Just a little sleep...a little sleep would be 
good. Mulder flopped in bed beside her,  "You still there?"

"Hmm," she drawled. "It had better be important."

He did his best seventeen year-old boy impression. "Well, I 
just wanted to say what a really good time I had and all...and 
uh, I was wondering if I could see you tonight?"

"I think you've seen just about everything there is to see, but 
I'm up for further exploration, if you are."  Her breathing had 
begun to slow down. She was still awake, but just barely.

Mulder let his fingers idly trace a pattern on the nape of her 
neck.  "I'm going to let you get some rest. I should go home 
and change clothes anyway. I'll come back later and we'll do 
something."

She roused herself momentarily, summoning the last bit of 
energy she had. It was time to stand up to 'Mr. 
Entertainment' and let him know exactly what she thought.  
"Let's walk on the wild side, Mulder. No pizza,  no videos 
tonight; just get back here and we'll improvise."

He cracked a wry smile. Man,  I have got to start planning 
my nights better.  "Understood, Scully. Maybe I'll surprise 
you."

"I think you've already done that. Just one more thing.  Take 
that duffel with you and bring back some clothes. While 
you're at it, don't forget a suit for work. I've pretty much 
decided that you need to be quarantined." She could see his 
jaw go a little slack.  "Kiss me, Mulder, I just revealed my 
secret plan and I'm fading fast."

And for once in his life, he followed orders, then watched as 
she fell asleep.

(END 1/3)

Part 2

Mulder bolted down the stairs taking two steps at a time. He 
wanted to get home, get some clothes and get back as soon 
as possible. It was noon by now. Amazingly, he had actually 
cleaned up after breakfast and managed to get out without 
waking her. Looking at this bag, he wondered how much he 
could stuff in it without looking like he'd just  joined the 
Witness Protection Plan. He yanked open the door of his 
Taurus, threw the bag in the back and got in.

Mulder wondered what was the record time for a round-trip 
commute from Georgetown to Alexandria and back. Here's 
an opportunity to achieve personal best, he thought. Scully 
always rode him about his lead foot and his apparent 
unfamiliarity with the speed limit. She was no better, the little 
speed demon, but she'd shut him up with an icy stare if he 
tried to give her any crap about it.

It was warm even for March in D.C., breezy and sunny--
green shoots were already showing themselves in the trees. 
Mulder rolled down his window as he drove off. He offered 
up a less than sincere apology to the sleeping object of his 
affections.  Sorry you're missing this Scully, really I am, but 
you'll need your rest. I plan on keeping you very busy.  He 
looked at his Mars light. This would be a great way to get 
through Saturday afternoon gridlock in Georgetown. Mulder 
thought better of it and hit the gas instead.

Despite his initial attempt at speed, traffic was a nightmare. 
As he slugged along M Street and Wisconsin Avenue, 
Mulder noticed the upscale restaurants that dotted the 
streets. French, Japanese, Northern Italian, maybe she'd 
like one of those. He drove past a revival movie house; he 
knew she liked  the classics, old black and white romances. 
Maybe they could catch a movie after dinner. Dinner and a 
movie in Georgetown?  "That's it?  You're pathetic."  He 
knew he was in trouble, he was talking to himself now. 
Mulder grunted in disgust, and his hands tapped at the 
steering wheel. He stole a peek at himself in the rear view 
mirror, followed by the utterance of a few choice expletives.  
"Mulder, you sorry sonovabitch...You're not 'out of practice,' 
you couldn't find the goddamn game if your miserable ass 
depended on it. "

Mulder winced as his past love life ran through his mind. 
When he was with Phoebe, he was in his twenties, living in 
England, and frankly, he was thrilled to be screwing anyone 
on a regular basis. With Diana, he'd just turned thirty, was 
career-driven, and thought himself too hard-core to care 
about anything else. He liked her, they worked cases and 
fucked; and that was about it, until she left him.  He had 
never developed a skill  for courtship, never thought it 
important. Here he was, practically middle-aged, still 
essentially a virgin when it came to dating.

Once again, Mulder communed with himself in the rear-view 
mirror. Sadly, no mystical revelation concerning what to do 
appeared imminent. At least he wasn't talking to himself out 
loud anymore. He sighed in exasperation, his hands tapped 
at the steering wheel as his monologue went internal this 
time.  It's official, I'm screwed. Think, Mulder, think.  Shops 
rolled by and minutes passed.  Nothing.  He squinted as his 
mind scrolled through postcard pictures of happy couples, 
reviewed the appropriate props, the set pieces. Mulder had 
a vague idea how this should go. He passed florists and 
boutiques, and for a minute thought maybe flowers 
would work, until his finely honed imagination drifted toward 
something that held an inexhaustible fascination for him.  
Lingerie.  His mind flooding with images--cupping Scully's 
breasts through a black silk bra, tugging down her panties 
with his teeth, biting his way down thigh high stockings. This 
erotic little epiphany ended abruptly with a slam of the 
brakes, a screeching halt, and Mulder stopping himself from 
causing a rear-end collision. As he listened to the driver of 
the other car yell a variety of comments concerning his 
parentage, Mulder gave himself a silent reprimand---Focus, 
Agent, focus, and make sure you get rid of those videos. It 
looks like you won't be needing them. And tell Little Mulder 
to give it a rest.

After about an hour of crawling through weekend 
Georgetown traffic, he made it to the Key Bridge. For some 
reason, the traffic jam had broken up. He was still no closer 
to a good idea, but he pushed the pedal to the metal and 
cruised the expanse of steel. He could feel the wind on his 
face. 80 miles an hour in a 55 mile zone. That felt good, 
better than good. Mulder cut a path across the Potomac, 
enjoying the water glinting in the sun. He'd driven this way a 
thousand times, and relaxed as at last, he felt the dim 
beginnings of inspiration. The idea came. It was brilliant--he 
knew exactly where he was going to take Scully tonight. The 
bridge rolled away underneath him. Let someone try to stop 
him. Water, wind, sky--it was a good day to be alive--he was 
going to go out on a limb and say he was happy.  Score one 
for Monster Boy.

He  made his way off the bridge and headed toward 
Alexandria, hitting  Washington Memorial Highway.  Home 
soon.  No, not home, just the place where he kept his 
clothes.  Home was somewhere else now. In counterpoint to 
the sunlight all around him, something suddenly crept into 
his mind--something he didn't want to let himself think about. 
In the middle of this perfect day, fear began to work its way 
though him like acid on metal. He swallowed hard, shoving 
down the taste of bile. The only other times he'd felt fear like 
this was the night Samantha disappeared, and at Scully's 
bedside watching cancer eat her away. Mulder's heart was 
racing, his head was starting to swim, his panic palpable. He 
remembered her sleeping in her bed, what it was like to lay 
next to her, listening to her heartbeat. God help whoever 
tried to hurt her or keep them apart. He started to think 
about the ways he would inflict pain on anyone who became 
a threat, and stopped himself. He would finish those plans 
later, but not today. Mulder flashed on last night, kissing her, 
feeling alive, feeling truly free for the first time.

He got a grip on himself and whispered a promise.  "We're 
taking a break from the good fight, Scully. All of it. This 
weekend, it's just you and me; Monday'll be here soon 
enough and we can suit up then."  He took a deep breath, 
kept on toward Alexandria.

He finally made it to Hegal Place. His neighborhood always 
looked unreal to him. Perfectly manicured lawns, sprawled in 
front of perfect Georgian homes, complete with Gap out-
fitted families. He was sure they thought he was some kind 
of government-issue anomaly. The only reason he ended up 
here was this was where his finger landed when he closed 
his eyes and pointed to a map in a fit of frustration. He knew 
he freaked the shit out of his neighbors, this odd-as-hell FBI 
man, coming and going at all hours of the day or night. 
Sometimes broken and bleeding, sometimes half out of his 
mind. Spooky here, Spooky at  work, Spooky everywhere 
except when he was with Scully.

The afternoon was spent going through his apartment trying 
to make it less the disaster area it usually was. He went 
around and emptied some drawers, made room in his closet, 
moved some of the things in his kitchen to lower shelves. 
Clothes, toothbrush, the rest of the usual stuff all got tossed 
into the duffel. Mulder managed to shove two suits in a 
carry-on, shave, shower and throw on jeans and a T-shirt.

As he dressed, his mind began to work out the details. They 
would probably stay at her place more; it was more 
comfortable, but at least his place didn't look like The Lost 
World anymore. He gathered all the videos that weren't his, 
and a surprising amount of magazines that didn't belong to 
him either and piled them near the door. Frohike didn't know 
it yet, but he was about to hit the motherload, courtesy of 
Mulder. The last task was feeding the fish, and as he 
watched their swirling frenzy, Mulder realized this was as 
close  to  a normal love life  as he was ever going to have. 
Much more than I deserve, he thought dryly, blinking at the 
green reflection coming from the tank.

And Scully?  What about what she deserved? There was no 
way to give her back what she'd lost, but maybe he could 
staunch any future regrets. He'd try with a vengeance, 
starting tonight. Mulder told himself he'd make everything 
bad recede and convince Scully it was a just a dream. They 
could pretend there were no real monsters out there, that 
they weren't warriors in some twilight world. He'd steal 
moments for her; he could do that. One day, after it was all 
done, he'd shock her with a truly extreme possibility...the 
chance to plan a future.

(End 2/3)

Part 3

A low ring pierced the quiet of Scully's bedroom. She 
unwillingly rolled over and eased herself out of bed. Her cell 
was ringing on the dresser. She took a deep breath to rouse 
herself and picked up the phone,  "Scully."  What she heard 
next startled her like a cold hand around her throat.

"Agent Scully, listen carefully, there isn't much time."

A voice, electronically scrambled to prevent recognition; 
Scully tried to interrupt,  "Who is..."

"Shut the fuck up, this is about your daughter, say another 
word and you'll never save her in time."

Scully listened to the words, none of it made sense. Her 
head was reeling, her mouth was dry and she could feel 
herself start to shake.

"Can you hear me, Agent? Your daughter's not dead, you 
saw what was in the coffin. She's in Bellefleur, a nicotine-
loving friend of  yours has her. They're in a hunting cabin 
just outside of town, just off the Forest Service access road  
You have about eight hours, if you don't get there by then 
she really will be dead. I wouldn't waste any time if I were 
you."

A click from the other end roared like a gunblast in Scully's 
ear. She thought she tasted blood in her mouth; she was 
going to be sick. She made herself breathe slowly, 
swallowing back the fear and the nausea. She had to go, 
this was her chance to make it come out right, her only 
chance. She hit Mulder's number.

"Emily's alive, they still have her. Meet me at the airport in a 
half hour."

Scully tore through apartment getting ready, everything 
becoming a blur. The only thing she clearly had a sense of 
doing was loading her weapon and making sure there were 
extra clips in her pocket. She ran out of her apartment got in 
her car and sped off. The streets, the highway, all of it 
washed past her, insignificant now. There was only this 
flicker of a chance;  Scully knew she would bring Emily 
home this time or die trying.  She careened into the airport 
parking garage, and as she shoved the gearstick into park, 
she saw him pull up behind her. She leapt out of the car and 
ran toward him. The lines of his face were pulled taught, his 
eyes gray steel, flinty. She stared back into his face and saw 
that he knew--this was the end game.

"Scully. I just have to ask you once, are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Let's go then, we've got a flight to catch."

Again, all the details seemed insignificant, meaningless; 
Scully barely paid attention to how they got through the 
airport, how Mulder flashed his badge on the boarding ramp 
and got them on the first flight to Portland, Oregon; pushing 
their way onboard. She was aware of buckling in, the plane 
taking off; with Mulder trying to talk to her, trying to connect 
with her, calm her down. She was a white hot point, 
intensely focused on the one goal in her life now. Scully 
heard herself mumble something to him, but she didn't try to 
gauge his reaction; he knew what was at stake. If the call 
had been about Samantha instead, she'd be right at his 
side, that's how it was with them. The flight wore on, and all 
Scully thought of was Emily, her name like a silent prayer, 
repeated over and over in her mind.

The plane begin to descend, and she checked her watch, 
It'd been about five hours since they'd left. They could make 
the rest of the way in about two more, leaving them little 
more than a half hour to stop the unthinkable. Scully pushed 
away any thought of disaster.  No fear.  No failure.  No other 
options.  She tried to still the blood roaring in her head as 
the plane landed. Somehow, she followed his lead as he 
pushed their way out of the airplane and into the terminal. 
Before she knew it, he had them in a rental car, heading to 
Bellefleur. They'd been quiet for a long time; she was the 
first one to break the silence. "There could never be anyone 
else, Mulder....you know that, don't you?"  Her voice was 
ragged, and the sentence escaped like a eleventh-hour 
confession. It might be the last time she could say it. She 
heard him reply without skipping a beat.

"That's my line, Scully. C'mon, let's get everyone home and 
you can show me."  He tried to conjure up a semblance of 
his usual blase self. Mulder took one hand from the wheel 
and cupped her hand in his.  "I better make sure I don't 
disappoint you."

They finally made it, passing through the town, the sheriff's 
station, the previous scenes of a case file so long ago. 
Scully remembered how young she was then, so easily 
horrified by the monstrous, so shocked by the unbelievable, 
not like now. Battle-hard, she told herself. Maybe just brittle, 
and today they would finally find out how quickly she would 
break.  "There's the access road."

"Yeah, I see it."

A sharp turn and then he was on the gravel road. She could 
see a cabin at the end of the short distance ahead. Mulder 
pulled off road and parked the car behind some scrub pine. 
She checked her SIG, and checked her pocket for the extra 
clips. They exchanged a look, their signal. It was time. As 
she got out of the car she heard him say,  "We can do this, 
Scully."

Hidden by thick brush, they made there way to a dead end 
where a the shack stood, a flickering light coming from the 
windows. Mulder had Scully flanked on the left, and together 
they slipped quietly to the door, guns drawn. Scully gave a 
tiny nod and he broke down the door; they were just in time 
to see Alex Krycek drag Emily out the back and down into 
the woods.

Krycek was fast, very fast, and already had covered a lot of 
ground by the time they shot through the cabin and onto 
their trail. The path was hard going, winding, zigzagging, still 
icy in spots. She pushed herself to keep up, almost 
matching Mulder step for step. Scully felt the cold air rushing 
into her lungs, it stung, needle-sharp; and used the pain to 
urge herself on. They came to a flat clearing, and she heard 
the whir of helicopter blades.  "Hurry, Mulder...We've got to 
catch them!"

All of a sudden she saw a dogleg that cut directly to where 
Krycek was dragging Emily. Mulder had already seen it and 
torn down the path, and Scully tried to follow, but her feet hit 
an icy patch. She fell and slid, so hard that it knocked the 
wind out of her. She was breathing raggedly, but she was 
not stopping, not now, precious seconds were being lost. 
Anger fueled her, and she dragged herself up by her hands 
and knees, and steadied herself. Scully started to move, and 
when she did, she felt the hard, cold barrel of a gun at the 
back of her head. A waft of cigarette smoke curled toward 
her face, like an obscene caress. Her hand instinctively felt 
for her holster, but she knew the worst.

"Agent Scully, I believe this item must be yours. A hand 
dangled her gun just outside her reach. "Allow me to escort 
you to where Agent Mulder and your lovely daughter are. 
She's a beautiful girl, just like her mother."

"You've got me me, but Mulder will get Emily, and Krycek 
will be dead soon."

The Smoking Man's reptilian features bent themselves into a 
unholy smile.  "My dear, all good things in time. I  believe we 
should catch up to Alex so that we can resolve our business 
for today."  He began to maneuver her over the rocky path, 
the gun still at her head; his yellow fingers gripped her arm 
like a vise. They made their way to the clearing, and Scully 
looked up just in time to see her world crash down around 
her. Mulder was on his knees with Emily buried against his 
chest, his arms shielding her. Krycek had his weapon poised 
at Mulder's temple. In some desperate last gesture, Mulder 
rocked Emily, his voice fierce and heartbreaking,  "Don't 
look, baby, don't look."

Everything seemed to still around them, No wind, no sounds 
of animals or birds, nothing. Mulder looked up and caught 
Scully's eyes. And then, the Smoking Man's voice broke the 
silence;  "Agent Scully, surely you know victory goes to the 
swift and the strong. Unfortunately, you appear to be neither 
today."  He motioned to Krycek,  "Alex, finish this."  

Two shots, white light, and Scully heard herself scream.

(End 3/3)


Absolute Beginners  by diehard     Chapter 3


Part 1/3

Scully jerked up, drenched in sweat and worn raw, hitting 
her shoulder against the headboard.  A  look at the clock on 
the night stand told her it was 5:30... in the afternoon...it was 
still Saturday.  Breathing hard, she started to wrap her mind 
around what had happened.  She'd been dreaming.  Once 
again Emily died, but this was different.  Now, so did Mulder.  
She lived and failed them both.  A wave of terror gripped her 
stomach and knotted her gut.

She made her way to the bathroom and  filled the sink with 
cold water, Plunging her head into an icy baptism, she 
hoped the shock of it would dull the panic that consumed 
her. Scully pulled herself up, ran her fingers through her hair 
and wiped the water from her face. She took stock of her 
self in the mirror. Not good, she looked like some kind of 
drowned, terrified rodent.  She tried to reassure herself.  It's 
just a dream, it'll be fine. You couldn't help what happened 
to Emily...It's OK...You're OK...You could never let him 
down, you know that. Your life for his in a second.

Something pressed  heavy against her chest-- it was getting 
hard to breathe. Scully forced herself away from the sink 
and into the shower. She was trembling and sick now, she 
needed to make this stop. Hot water, full force pummeled 
her body, and her mind formed single words, words she 
needed.  Perspective.  Discipline.  Logic.  They'd saved his 
life, both their lives more than once. Maybe now she'd lose it 
and choke when it counted most.  A moment's hesitation, a 
wrong move would give their enemies the chance they'd 
waited for. The men who exploited any weakness and killed 
without hesitation would love it if she delivered him to them. 
Scully got dressed and told herself she could handle it, she 
wanted to, she had to.

Mulder loped his way down the hall to Scully's door.  Two 
knocks.  A pause.  "Scully! Get your bad self over here and 
open the door, Daddy's home!"  Nothing.  Two more knocks.  
"C'mon open up, I know you're in there."  Two more knocks. 
He'd slung his bags over his shoulder and unzipped his 
leather jacket. Running his fingers around the edge of the 
peephole, he thought heard her coming.  "My hands are full 
here, open up."

When the door opened, Scully greeted him wearing jeans 
and T-shirt; holding a hairbrush in one hand. It was clear 
she'd just finished getting dressed.  "Think I  brought 
enough? "  He swooped in, dropping the bags on the floor, 
and then noticed Scully's edge, her uneasiness. Maybe 
she'd changed her mind, maybe that was it, at some level 
she must know how insane this was.  But he was hoping 
otherwise.  "Is this still OK?"

"Mulder, even though I think there's enough here to open a 
clothing store, yes, it's still OK."  Scully put her focus on the 
very real figure right in front of her. Here he is; you wanted 
him to be here, you might try acting like it. She managed a 
crinkly smile, aware that Mulder had taken the same risk she 
had and there were no signs of him flinching. Maybe he 
knew something she didn't. Scully remembered to breathe.

"I guess if you get on my nerves I can always have a 
rummage sale. So, where's the copy of 'Mars Attacks?'  I 
know your taste in movies."  No video, and apparently no 
dinner, either.  "Mulder, there's nothing here remotely 
looking like food. You don't want to be around me once I get 
low blood sugar."  She tossed the hairbrush on the stand 
near the door

"Eidetic memory, Earth Girl,. You said no video, no pizza. 
And I plan on holding you to that walking on the wild side 
remark."

She looked him up and down and sighed. Mulder seemed 
charged up, which usually meant they were in for a long 
drive to nowhere, followed by an all-nighter filled with Y-
incisions, and formaldehyde.

"Scully, finish getting dressed, We've got to get going."   He 
was a little too full of himself and loving it.

"Mulder, please don't tell me we're about to drive to the 
middle of Podunk to investigate the spontaneous 
combustion of cheerleaders at Alfred E. Neumann High 
School, and there's a charming little autopsy for me to do. 
Please tell me that's not what happening."

"Scully, get some shoes on, time's a wastin'."

Mumbling under her breath, Scully shoved her feet into her 
usual high-heeled boots, grabbed her jacket, and was about 
to get her ID and holster when Mulder told her it wouldn't be 
necessary. He took her by the wrist, planted a big one 
squarely on her lips, and then they were off.

He hustled her into the car and before she knew it they were 
plunging into the great unknown yet again. Scully's curiosity 
was getting the better of her. They hadn't headed toward the 
Bureau, or the highway. About fifteen minutes later, he'd 
driven through several alleys and snaked his way through 
the north side, past restaurant row and the bar strip.  
"Mulder!   Are you going to tell me where we're headed?"

"Where's the fun in that?" and gave her his patented I-am-
too-clever-for-my own-good look. "We're young and in 
love and it's Saturday night. The world is full of possibilities."  

"And you believe 'young' still applies to you, Mulder? You're 
skirting dangerously close to forty...you might want to rethink 
that."

"Say what you will, but you seemed quite pleased with what 
I was able to do last night, despite my advanced age. And 
as much as I'd love to continue this scintillating line of 
interrogation, we're just about there."

Scully kept trying to guess what was located in this part of 
town significant enough to pique Mulder's interest, and the 
only thing of consequence was Georgetown University.  
"We're coming up on the campus. Where exactly the hell are 
you taking me?"

"Some place that makes me think of you."  Mulder rounded 
past the majority of the University to the farthest northern 
end and pulled into the visitor lot. He parked the car, walked 
over to the passenger door and opened it. Leading the way 
toward a clearing at the far end, there was a small gap 
bracketed by buckthorn and hickory trees. It was the 
entrance to Glover Archbold Park. Not a park really; more 
like a strip of wilderness in the midst of the city. Suddenly, 
Scully remembered this place. Mulder said he came here 
when he had to find the thing that really mattered.
								
He took her deep into this secret wild place. It was seldom 
used  this time of year, making it Mulder's favorite time to be 
there. There was a thin line of bare earth that was used as a 
trail, a minimal path at best. It was staggeringly beautiful: 
wild grasses grew in thickets, dogwood had begun to bud, 
more buckthorn burst with new shoots, patches of reeds 
rustled in marshy bogs. He'd  made sure to get here at 
twilight. The sky above them glowed violet, and the horizon 
was edged in burnished orange and gold; the end of day. 
Mulder  kept his hand on the small of her back, silent until he 
thought they were far enough away from the city, their lives, 
the world. Finally, he murmured,  "We're here, Scully."

She felt like she'd entered a dream. This was the world that 
mattered, simple, basic, real. She could smell damp earth, 
and the colors, the new leaves, the sound of the wind in the 
grass filled her. He pulled her up onto a ridge and stood 
behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.  He felt 
warm and solid, and she relaxed into the length of his body. 
They were survivors, they had stared down the end of the 
world. What else could she possibly need to figure out?  
Scully knew what the next step was--she had to let go. Her 
fear of failing would paralyze her and she had to tell him--he 
had to know. It was time to do it. Do it or turn her back on 
him completely.
						
"Not bad, Mulder."  She tilted her head back, pulled him 
forward and kissed the side of his neck.

"Coming from you that's pretty high praise. You're not trying 
to stroke my ego, are you? Not that I'd try to stop you."  He 
loved her mouth on his skin, he loved how she touched him. 
This could not possibly be real. He used to stand right on 
this spot: alone and self-contained,  trying to imagine the 
very thing that had finally come to pass, telling himself to 
want her the way he did was ridiculous, and actually having 
her would be impossible.

Her lips fluttered across his skin, and he thanked Yahweh, 
Buddha, Krishna, whoever, for the reality of her, for what 
she gave him, for making him a believer. He took one hand 
and started to play with a strand of her hair, and felt himself 
unbelievably charmed to have even a single moment like 
this.  They were still and silent as minutes dissolved away 
and darkness began to drop and settle.  "Scully."  No 
answer.  Something unspoken was in the air, it was 
palpable, burgeoning. Something was wrong when he 
picked her up, he should have pressed her, should have 
gotten it all out in the open. Mulder tried to keep a teasing 
tone in his voice, but something had shifted, and instinct told 
him it wasn't good.  "Scully, are you still there?"  Not a word.

Mulder guessed she was trying to find a way to make telling 
him easier on both of them. He was not the kind of guy that 
got the girl. Mulder knew without a doubt Scully loved him, 
and he also knew love alone was not always enough. His life 
was too weird, too empty of any real promise, and face it, he 
was not exactly the mental health poster child. His partner 
had a fine instinct for self-preservation, and he was sure that 
it had finally kicked into gear. She would tell him that they 
were better as partners, as friends. The distance they'd had 
before probably was the only thing that made their bizarre 
lives tolerable. Scully had seen enough carnage for a 
lifetime, bled enough, cut up too many corpses, closed the 
eyes of too many dead children to not want some sanctuary-
-some part of her life he couldn't touch, or ultimately, ruin.

And until Scully, the only woman he'd ever really loved was 
his sister. Someone should really do his profile--maybe he'd 
do it himself. He'd be back to solitary pursuits soon enough. 
Mulder started to choke up, helpless, as the best thing that'd 
ever happened in his unlucky life slipped away. Desperation 
began to close around him like black water. He had to do 
something , say something, to thank her for even one night, 
for what he would replay in his mind over and over until 
someone lowered him into the ground and shoveled the dirt 
on his face. Mulder silently resolved himself to what 
obviously needed to happen--I can fix this, Scully--just don't 
go away completely.  He would fall on the sword first. Then 
he would drive her home, be friendly, crack a few jokes on 
the way and drop her off. After he saw her get in safely, he'd 
find the nearest bottle of Scotch, crawl in and find the black 
hole that had to have his name on it.  "I know...it's OK...you 
don't have to do this.  We can just  wind back the tape and 
chalk it up to two best friends with too much time spent in 
the basement."

Her entire body went rigid. What was she hearing? What 
could he possibly be saying? This was unbelievable. God, 
she'd been trying to get off the dime and tell him how much 
he meant--how much it all meant--how much she was afraid 
of losing him--how much she needed him. But this 
pronouncement flipped her from feeling insecure and 
vulnerable to livid. Her face flushed red, and her temples 
were throbbing. She gritted her teeth and she drew herself 
up into her full height. Scully was locked and loaded, 
'furious' did not begin to describe what she was feeling.  
She'd show him the real meaning of 'getting someone's Irish 
up.'  "You're not going to ditch me again, you stinking 
sonovabitch."

"What?"  Mulder was genuinely confused. He could just 
barely see her in the twilight but he recognized that tone. 
He'd never heard it coming from Scully, but there was 
obviously a first time for everything. He was about to lose his 
head--to be removed with surgical precision, no less.

"Is this some new variation on dumping me?' I know you've 
exhausted all the usual ones.  Oh, fuck it, if I start listing 
every time I'll just strangle you."  Scully's insides were 
vibrating, her hands trembling.

"I just assumed you finally saw what a train wreck life with 
me really is...that you needed to pull back and save 
yourself."  Mulder's voice was flat, as if he'd already been 
left, as if it was a done deal. He rubbed his temples 
lethargically.

"And that was based on what?  Was that before or after I 
slept with you?"

"Scully, my track record sucks, I thought maybe I could 
make it easy for you, protect you from..."   It was dawning on 
Mulder that he hadn't figured out what the fuck was going 
on--he'd horribly miscalculated, and if he was still alive in a 
few minutes, he'd try to apologize.

Scully cut him off, her eyes bright as a flare, her face 
partially lit by the slow rise of the moon.  "Quit doing my 
thinking for me! Quit planning my life, my future! And since 
when do you give a damn about making my life easier?"  
She was practically yelling at the top of her voice.  
"Goddamn you, Mulder! You make me completely insane! I 
should be committed! Why do you think I'm still here?  Why 
do you think I'd tear anyone a new asshole who stands in 
the way of finding you when you disappear?  Because I'm 
still spying on you?  Because hanging out with you is a 
positive career move?   Why?  The words just kept pouring 
out her--she kept talking as if she stopped she'd collapse, or 
explode.  "Yeah, I'll say it...because you're the only one for 
me. Do you get that?  And no one's leaving. You stay, I 
stay...we figure this out...or I swear I'll make your life 
a living hell.  Do you need me to speak slowly?  
OK...No one's...going... anywhere...Mulder...
Not now... it's too...late...for that...
Is that clear enough? "

"Yeah,  I got it, Scully!"  Mulder pressed on. He was strung 
out on a perverse combination of panic and optimism, 
because even though they'd fought before it'd never been 
like this, and partially because he realized if she was really 
leaving, she'd been calm, quiet, and the next minute, gone.  
"There was something wrong when I picked you up, Scully...
I saw it in your eyes. And just now, you weren't really 
here...I'm more used to being alone...more used wanting you 
than having you. This whole thing's surreal. You're only the 
fucking center of my life. Fine. I'm an asshole, I don't 
deserve you, I can't handle the idea that you might really 
love me, as much as I love you.  I just need you any way I 
can get you, even if that's only being my goddamn partner."   
Now, his voice was loud, and he could feel his stomach and 
his back tightening up.

Scully somehow took pity on him and started to power down. 
There was enough moonlight now to see how completely 
wrung-out he looked. But she wasn't quite done setting him 
straight. "Mulder, if I want to waste my goddamn life with 
you, it's my goddamn decision. Don't make me have to hurt 
you to get my point across. You know I'm capable of it." She 
pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and slumped onto a 
nearby tree stump. This was exhausting. Was it always this 
difficult? Only when you involved two of them--their history 
spoke for itself.  Oh it's surreal, alright.  Scully felt oddly 
amused now, they were certainly well-matched--if she  didn't 
kill  him first.

As for Mulder, he came over to where she was splayed out 
and crouched down on his heels. He'd calmed down too, 
and had a idiotic look on his face. Could he possibly be 
happy?  "Seeing as how you've pretty much made up your 
mind, I guess I'll just go along for the ride. You're one hell of 
a romantic, Scully."

"Shut up, Mulder."

"So, it looks like everything's back to normal."  He held out 
his hands palms up, and waited for her to place her hands 
over them. She did, and he paused for a second. The moon 
had risen, three-quarter full, and he took her in, a changeling 
in the silvery light. He knew this was new territory for them, 
and hard place for Scully to find herself. Now he was 
serious, "Tell me what it was, I want to know."

Scully's face took on its usual somber lines. Haltingly, she 
began, "I...I thought this might have been a mistake...The 
truth is, I'm afraid, and I don't like that feeling."  Her voice 
was measured now, precise. She just wanted to get out one 
word after another and not fall apart.  "I'm afraid of failing 
you, of losing you like Emily. And don't say I'll never be able 
to get rid of you, because it doesn't help. This is more 
complicated than that. If finding the answers meant leaving 
me behind, we both know you would. That's the way it is, 
Mulder, you and I both know it...it's just harder now." 

She was right, and  Mulder hated how fucking helpless he 
was to change any of it. "I need to have the answers, we 
both do. I guess my brilliant strategy of protecting you by just 
leaving pretty much was an abysmal failure.  No more 
ditches, dumps, whatever.  I mean it. If I had to go... we'd 
figure it out. You'd know what I was doing and why.  And I'd 
do whatever I had to come back to you. I know it's not 
enough, but it's a start."

She laced her finger in his,  "You'd better. I'd hate to tell Bill 
and Charlie you were gone again."  He started laughing a 
little, and she thought maybe they'd get to the other side of 
this.  "This part's about me, Mulder. I used to think that 
holding myself back would give me the strength to deal with 
anything."  Scully looked away from him, to some imaginary 
point in the trees. She wasn't going to break down.  "I can't 
keep you out anymore, so you see the problem...Even if you 
don't leave, what if something goes wrong?  I don't know if I 
could handle it if I froze in the clutch, if I couldn't get your 
back because I was afraid, because I didn't think or move 
fast enough."  There were no tears; Scully wouldn't allow it, 
she'd come too far to lose it.  "And it terrifies me. It kills me 
to say it, but it does. I want proof it won't keep me from doing 
what I have to. I have to know I could save you. 
At least I have to believe I'd have a chance."

Mulder rose to his feet and pulled her up so that she faced 
him.  "Scully, listen to me, you did that a long time ago. Don't 
ever doubt it. I don't know what other proof there is."  He 
spoke softly, every word was meant to find its way to the 
place inside her that needed something to hold on to. He 
hesitated for a moment, and went on.  "What if I lose you? 
Another abduction, the cancer returning...I don't know if I 
could deal with it."  Everything seemed to stutter and stop, 
all of it teetering in the balance.  "So, what should I do, keep 
my distance? I can't, I don't want to. The truth is, I'm not 
even gonna try."  Mulder gathered his thoughts and spoke 
slowly.  "I think there's only one question, whatever's going 
to happen, do we face it alone or together?"

Two choices.  Mulder and everything that meant.  Or she 
could have her cold, quiet apartment and her cold, quiet life 
all to herself. Scully felt lucky that for once she didn't give 
damn about anything except what she wanted.  She 
wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and pulled 
his face close to hers.  "I want to go home. Now."

His mouth began to curve into a smile. Yes, there was 
something to smile about. He'd show her, maybe even take 
all night, just to be sure.  "I know we're beginners at this, but 
usually when the woman tells you to take her home this 
soon, it's not a good sign."

Scully leaned in, and with her mouth against his, made 
herself perfectly clear.

(END 1/3 )



Part 2

She grazed his bottom lip with her teeth, parted his lips with 
her tongue. And oh yes, her hands had crept under Mulder's 
jacket, and made their way under his shirt. She felt like the 
top of her head might float away. Scully was hungry to touch 
him, to let the feel of him wash over her. Good, she thought, 
it's time for a reprieve from Navy-bred self control. Scully 
vowed then and there to leave it for case files, for Skinner,  
and for Monday morning. In the midst of the chaos that 
dogged her every waking minute, there would be a corner 
that belonged to her and to Mulder.  A private life.  A life.  
She stopped kissing him and noticed a look flitting across 
his face. His eyes glittered with something that was a little 
predatory and apparently aimed in her direction. Scully 
rubbed his lower lip with her thumb.  "There's some things I'd 
really like to do. With you. Get me back to my place in one 
piece and I promise you won't be disappointed."

For his part, Mulder was having somewhat of a problem 
snapping to. He was relishing the soft scrape of Scully 's 
mouth against his, and her hands...the feel of her hands 
stroking his back made him forget his name, what he did for 
a living, where he parked the car. He could hear her voice, 
saying something about taking her somewhere, and doing 
something.  Amnesia?   A fugue?  He tried to string some 
coherent thoughts together. Oh yeah, you can show me 
anything you want. He smiled against her mouth. Anything 
you want...But he wasn't quite done yet.  "I think you've got it 
backwards."  With that, he nipped his way down her neck 
until he thought could hear her moan. When she gripped his 
forearms, Mulder felt he'd done commensurate damage. He 
stopped, and shot her a look through slitted eyes. "What the 
hell are we still doing here?   Let's go."

The two of them had just clambered into his car and sped 
off. Mulder had sprinted all the way back, dragging her by 
the wrist behind him.  She kept up a steady stream of 
'Mulder, stop!', 'Mulder, cut it out!', 'Mulder, you're out of your 
mind!' He glanced back at her; she was laughing, hair flying 
in the wind, eyes locked on him. Mulder wanted to make 
love to her on the spot, but kept running until they got to the 
car and piled in. He turned the key in the ignition and snuck 
a sidelong look at her. They were the stuff of archetypes...All 
hail the conquering heroes!  Mulder was sure he was going 
off the deep end here, but hey...he could be Tristan to her 
Isolde...No, too German...How 'bout  Sid to her Nancy?... 
Jesus, that's just too fucking morbid... C'mon...Steed to her 
Peel?...OK, getting warmer...Wait a minute... Moose to her 
Squirrel, the X-rated version.  That'll work.  It's you and me, 
Rocky, from here on out. He hit the gas and peeled out.

Scully settled in and shifted her weight so she was leaning 
toward this insane person at the wheel. She felt proud she 
had it in her to finally cut loose. As for Mulder, she knew he 
was just loose in the head. Not her best clinical diagnosis, 
but it would have to do until she could get him home and 
give him a more thorough physical examination.  Or 
something.

Mulder turned on the radio and scanned the dial until he 
heard 'Otis Davis plays the dusties, the Old Grooves for you 
and yours.' The next sounds were a blood-curdling scream, 
a thundering piano riff, some heavy base and a baritone 
voice---'I put a spell on you.'  "Yessss!  Scully, this is 
Screamin' Jay Hawkins. Perfect! It's kismet...this is our 
song!"

Scully rolled her eyes upward. Screamin' Jay opened his act 
by emerging from a coffin and casting his undead love-spell 
on the unsuspecting women in the audience. The 
connection was obvious. How could she have thought for a 
moment that zombie- love would not be rearing its ugly 
head. "Nice song, although I have to say the image of a half-
rotting corpse wreaking havoc is not the usual basis for 
foreplay."  But it was certainly Mulder's. They survived the 
mutual meltdown of earlier tonight, and had begun to settle 
back into their play: the code-talking, the flirting, the sidelong 
glances. She knew they were better suited for the volley 
back and forth, it was the nature of their dance, their 
dynamic. Scully's mouth turned up in a grin: Bring it on, 
Mulder, bring it on.

"Shhhhh, Scully you'll ruin the moment."  With that, he 
cranked the volume until the air vibrated. 'I put a spell on 
you....'cause your miiiiiine. ' Screamin' Jay was in rare form 
indeed. Mulder tapped the steering wheel in time to the beat. 
Now he was singing along with Jay,  "...Cause you're 
miiiiine."  He bit his lower lip and squinted as he and Jay 
cast their zombified love-spell, working their way back to 
Scully's.  "You won't be able to ever resist me now. I'm 
workin' my mojo hand and my black cat bone. Surely you 
realize you are powerless in the face of this much 
concentrated occult power."

"You mean the talismanic use of items consecrated by a 
practitioner of voodoo, macumba, or Santeria for the 
express purpose of the male owner of said items increasing 
sexual potency and his ability to bend the object of his 
desire to his will? Is that what you're referring to?  " Scully 
gave him a sly, slow blink. I see your bet, and raise you. And 
with that, she slid next to him and traced a slow path with 
her finger from his sideburn, down his throat to the edge of 
his collarbone.  "I'm not really sure you need that."

The pulse in his neck was pounding--No, Scully...I need 
something, though.  "See, it's working already."  Before she 
had to time to move her hand away, Mulder cupped it in his 
and started softly biting her palm and the soft pad of her 
thumb. No mean feat, since he was still driving. Thankfully, 
he recognized Scully's neighborhood coming up ahead. 
Eyes still on the road, he heard he voice, low and breathy.

"Just drive the damn car, Mulder."

It wasn't too much longer until they reached her apartment 
building. Scully hopped out and was walking up the stairs to 
the door, Mulder watched her with dogged attention. As he 
eased out the driver's side, he could hear his knees pop.  
Shit.  It almost sounded like gunfire. Maybe he was getting a 
little out of shape, but he most certainly was not middle-
aged. He just needed to run more. Or maybe he needed a 
vigorous program of horizontal calisthenics, administered 
under the strict supervision of his physician---whose ass by 
the way, just did not quit.

"Hey partner, are you able to get upstairs on your own, or do 
I need to give an elderly gentlemen a hand?"  Scully had 
turned to face him and was rocking back and forth on her 
heels, waiting in front of the building entrance. She chuckled 
a little.  "Knees sound good. Maybe I should have taken 
geriatric medicine as a subspecialty."  She bit the tip of her 
tongue and eyed him up and down. He needed a regimen of 
physical therapy, the application of compresses. She had an 
idea where she could find something warm and wet, 
although she thought about applying it to an entirely different 
part of his anatomy.

"Droll, very droll. You will, however, regret you said that."  
With that, Mulder ran past her up the stairs, yelling en-route 
to her apartment.  "Get the lead out, girl. I'm  gonna teach 
you all about this man and his moves."

She walked through door and made her way with a 
deliberate, measured gait. She was planning on being much 
more than an apt pupil, enjoying the sound of her heels in 
the hall, clicking her way toward Mulder and whatever his 
moves might be. I've got a few here of my own, Scully 
thought, a few you might find quite interesting.  "Watch your 
back, Agent, here I come."

She was coming up on her apartment when she saw the 
door was wide open.  "Mulder!"  Nothing. And then, him 
yelling and the sound of general commotion. Her adrenaline 
started pumping and she ran the rest of the way. Flying 
through the doorway, she saw him sprawled out on the floor. 
In his hurry to demonstrate his...agility, a certain someone 
had forgotten the luggage in the foyer. Splayed flat on his 
back, it was obvious someone had neglected to look where 
he was going. Scully walked up and stood over him, 
straddling her prone and slightly addled darling. He made no 
move to get up, but just laid there with his arm draped over 
his eyes. Not the prone position she'd been imagining 
earlier, but somehow she suspected they were due for a 
geeky mishap.

"Don't. Don't say a word."  His arm slid away and he gave 
her a look that managed to be both a warning and self-
deprecating. 

Scully moved to his side and knelt down, feeling partly 
solicitous, partly amused.  "Oh.... Sweetie, are you OK?"  
Catching the unfamiliar term immediately, she hoped to hell 
Mulder hadn't.  Sweetie?  Hardly.  What next?  Baby?  Not 
likely. She tried to play it off by checking the pulse in his 
neck, and mustered a more serious tone.  "Talk to me, are 
you all right?"

For his part, Mulder had caught that little endearment 
immediately. Not wanting to waste this golden opportunity, 
he slid his hand to his head, and rolled back his eyes, "God, 
maybe I have a head injury. Scully, did you say what I think 
you said? Call me sweetie again and make it all better."

"Perhaps cerebral trauma is involved, and given your 
preexisting mental condition, you're probably having auditory 
hallucinations."  Scully had gotten up and thrown her jacket 
on the hook on the wall. It looked like Mulder would live, 
although she wasn't quite certain she'd be able to live down 
his teasing her about this for the rest of her life. What she 
needed to do was distract him.  "Get up and get your clothes 
off."

He shook the marbles out of his head. Well, nothing like 
cutting to the chase. She was being a little prosaic, but what 
the hell, he'd go with it.  "Ooh, I love a woman who takes 
charge...But how 'bout a little quid pro quo?"

"What I was going to suggest is that you get undressed, get 
in the tub and take a hot soak. Given your recent swan dive 
and that percussive noise emanating from your knees, I 
think you might want to keep yourself from stiffening up.'

"I can't imagine anything I'd want more than a little stiffness. 
As I recall, you seemed to enjoy it as well."

Scully walked up to him, leaned forward and gave his cheek 
a play-slap, partnered with that rare, toothy grin of hers. To 
be used only in the case of children, and a certain demented 
Special Agent.  "Why don't you go and get in the tub?"  She 
motioned him to get up, and pointed toward the bathroom.  
"Go on...I'll bring you some supper while you soak."

With that, she strode off to the kitchen, leaving Mulder on 
the floor considering his options. He could stay where he 
was or get off the floor, get served dinner by Scully while he 
luxuriated in a hot tub, and corner her in the bathroom later. 
Not a hard choice. On his way to there, he yelled,  "Hurry up, 
don't keep your favorite patient waiting."

(End 2/3)

Part 3

Hot water. Steamy vapor rising like clouds. Shallow 
breathing.  Muscles relaxing. The image of pale moon skin, 
a woman's calf, a breast, someone's lower back where a 
snake dwelled, dripping with streaks of water. Mulder let 
himself linger in this lucid dream, his body stretched the 
length of the tub, his head resting against the back of 
Scully's huge old claw foot, eyes closed.  Her voice. She 
was here.

"Mealtime, c'mon, sit up. I've an Irish pub supper for you, me 
boyo. It's a family specialty."

Scully slipped in on bare feet, placed a tray on the floor next 
to the tub, and perched herself on the edge. The 
aforementioned specialty consisted of cheese, bread, 
apples, two shot glasses and one very large bottle of Irish 
whiskey. White wine and the niceties of a hot meal were 
going to have to wait for another day. She poured two shots 
and dangled one in front of Mulder. He had a hot water glow, 
his eyes were heavy lidded, and his lips curved slightly. 
Water trickled down the curves of his chest, and his long 
legs were splayed against the side of the tub.  From what 
she could see, he was beginning to assume the up 
periscope position. She wondered how long she'd be able to 
hold out before she'd strip down and slide herself over him, 
and thought she'd better not make any bets. Mulder held her 
wrist for a second before he took her proffered libation. In 
that split second, Scully felt another surge of something 
Father McCue would certainly term a mortal sin. Bless me 
Father, she thought without a single guilty twinge, for I am 
interested in nothing but sinning right now.

"OK, Scully, what's the toast?"

"Mulder, use that brilliant mind of yours. Here's your chance 
to impress me."

He gestured to hold their up glasses and cleared his throat, 
"Ready? 'There was a young lady from Kerry...'

Before he could finish, she cut him off, "A limerick, Mulder?" 

She then treated him to the sight of her knocking hers back 
with a practiced flick of her wrist. Her face twisted in a brief 
grimace, then relaxed. It was Mulder who was impressed. 
Full of hidden talents, this one.

She tossed her head back and let out a little whoop. 
"Whoa...."  She jutted her chin in his general direction.  "No 
one likes a slacker. C'mon, Slainte."

Mulder tossed his back, and felt the warmth spreading down 
his throat,  his chest. He teared up a little, and heard 
someone snicker. That would not be tolerated.  "Hit me."  
Scully was not about to get away with insulting his macho 
sensibilities, plus the idea of them getting it on while 
hammered had an irresistible appeal.  

"You sure about that?"

"Yep, unless you don't think you can keep up."

Three more shots each, actually. While not officially 
hammered-- loose--free and easy, with special emphasis on 
the easy, definitely applied. Mulder started telling an 
elaborate story about selkies, Celtic sea enchantresses. 
Scully slowed the whole thing down by popping bits of bread 
and cheese into his mouth, explaining the importance of the 
four food groups and good nutrition for men approaching 
middle age. She also partook, shushing him as she savored 
this ancient family recipe. All in all, there was more laughing 
than storytelling. Until something made them change gears 
completely. Something as innocuous as a apple.

Scully was going to offer Mulder a bite, but first she wanted 
to clean it up, nice and proper. She started polishing it on 
her chest, rubbing it on her T-shirt, pulling the fabric tight 
against her breasts. She could feel the fabric slide against 
her nipples. The tips of them felt like a spark had hit them, a 
spark that coursed down her tender stomach, right between 
her legs, leaving her with a luscious ache. She stopped and 
looked at Mulder and saw him watching her, transfixed. He 
was stroking his chin with the pads of his fingers, measuring  
her with granite eyes. She took a bite of the apple instead, 
and the juice ran down her chin. Mulder raised himself up, 
knelt and leaned toward her, and licked it away. The apple 
fell and rolled across the floor, and she heard herself 
murmur.  "Messy, but what can you do?"

"I'll show you."  He bit her earlobe, her neck, and felt himself 
reeling from the soft crush of her flesh in his mouth. He tried 
to stifle a groan deep in his throat, but it was useless. He 
couldn't contain the sheer pleasure that rushed through his 
body. Mulder climbed out of the tub, pulled Scully to her feet 
and began to strip away those pieces of fabric, dripping 
water everywhere. He was quick and ruthless about it, 
pulling off her T-shirt and bra with one hand, and stroking 
her with the other. He found her nipples and pinched them 
with his wet fingers, then trailed his hands down her hips, 
and slid them around to the small of her back. Mulder 
wondered what it would be like to lick the snake that lived 
there. Nothing could be more delicious. No, he was wrong, 
he imagined his mouth between her legs. Almost as if she'd 
read his mind, Scully's hands gripped his shoulders and the 
dark and ravenous look she gave him spurred him on.  He 
stripped off the rest of what she wore, and kicked her 
clothing to the side. Finally, she was naked and he heard 
her call his name, softly, urgently. Mulder's cock was 
throbbing, hard and insistent. He would bury himself in her, 
but first he had to taste her. The hint she'd given him 
last night of what she was like was not enough.

Barely making a sound, Scully kept murmuring his name. 
She wanted to say so much more, not the words of poets, 
she never had those--just some sign of her imperfect, 
devastating love.  "Mulder."  She said it again and again, 
she wanted to fill the room with the sound of it. She loved 
him, but words were pale, inadequate things now. He'd 
become her biology, as basic as bone marrow, as necessary 
as oxygen, his face, the last remnant of sight before sleep. 
Fingers trailed down his back, and she drew her tongue 
across his chest and bit him softly above his heart.  She 
didn't laugh when he said  'God help me.'   "Maybe we 
should go to bed."  Scully turned to walk to the bedroom, but 
he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Bed's too far away. Have pity on an old man."  Mulder 
grabbed the fresh towels from the top of the hamper. He 
piled them on the sink.  "Here, sit."  He lifted her up by the 
hips and eased her onto soft, warm cotton. Mulder knelt 
down and rested his face on her thighs. He could feel her 
hands in his hair, her fingers rasping against his scalp. 
Slowly, he pushed her legs apart, first pressing with one 
cheek and then the other until she was spread open. He 
stroked her inner thigh against his temples, and started to 
write against her skin with infinitely slow kisses. She was so 
warm, so smooth; so good, so unbelievably good. He 
pressed his mouth against her very core, and kissed and 
licked his way around her soft folds until he found her clit--
lush, wet, swollen. Mulder swept the tip of his tongue across 
it, licked and kissed its center.  This.   Yes, Scully, this.   He 
nibbled her, teased her with his lips, bit her thighs. He was 
taking her to the edge, he wanted her to come, wanted to 
feel her feeling it. She trembled against his mouth, and he 
kept tonguing her clit with slow maddening strokes, over and 
over. He moaned against her soft, moist flesh and 
whispered her name. Her legs tightened around his back, 
the muscles in her legs tensed, and he got even harder 
when he heard her shallow, rapid breath.

She was close, so close, and then she was coming. It was 
piercing, blotting out everything except what his beautiful 
mouth was doing to her. Spiraling back into herself and then 
out, out, over and over again. It had never been this fierce, it 
couldn't be. And she uncoiled upward and outward, not 
stopping, hot, hot waves of it rolling through her. Her arms 
and legs, her whole body, tensed and softened over and 
over. She heard her own voice, calling for Mulder like he 
was lost, or she was. She could feel his mouth move 
upward, one long drag until he was kissing her, teeth 
touching, tongue seeking tongue. He offered her what he'd 
savored, his lips warm and moist. She moaned when he 
pulled away.  Too soon.

"Taste yourself, this is how wonderful you are."  He stroked 
her throat and shoulders, peppering her collarbone with tiny 
kisses, as if he was fixing a charm calling her back to Earth, 
back to herself. And then he stopped, looking at her with 
something past longing, past hunger, something that 
tightened his throat and made the blood pound in his head.  
"I need to hear you say it...Tell me what else you want, 
Scully." 

She met his gaze and took her right hand, curving her 
fingers, and licked the side from the wrist to the pinkie, and 
its inner curl. Then she slipped it over his cock, and felt him 
surge in her hand.  "We're not finished, you can't be 
finished."  No pretense, no room for anything but the pull of 
her desire.  "I want you."

Mulder moved her arms so that they draped over his 
shoulders. He parted her with his leg, and with one hand, 
cupped her beautiful ass. With the other hand, he braced 
himself by straight-arming it against the mirror behind them, 
then stepped completely between her legs. His cock was 
throbbing and as he eased himself inside her, he heard 
Scully tell him 'yes.' A plea from her, "Yes."  He bit off a 
groan as he slid into her. He started thrusting, and she 
matched every move, torturing him, delighting him.  Wet and 
tight, he bit his lower lip as she clenched around him. 
Mulder's eyes slammed shut, he was losing his mind.  He 
wanted to take his time, he wanted to take it slow---but it 
was too good, too much. He thrust into her; it was a blind, 
mute rush of love--foolish, desperate, fierce, driven--
everything he was, everything he would ever be. In the last 
seconds he could think at all, the words came--Take me. 
Take it all, Scully.  A ragged breath, "Please," and then the 
smash and shatter of love. Nothing was ever so frightening, 
so absolute, so binding to another person as this.

He fell forward a little, and he and Scully slumped against 
the mirror. They were motionless, wrecked, drifting. The last 
pretense they might have still harbored that they were 
separate and independent, that there was some choice in all 
of this anymore had been stripped away. If one of them 
should disappear or die it didn't matter.  They were tethered 
to each other, no matter what happened in this life, through 
whatever existed after that.   Final.   World without end.  
Amen.

They began to return to themselves, their breathing calmed, 
and it all began to recede and there was just a man and a 
woman. Mulder stretched into standing and helped her to sit 
up. He stared at himself in the mirror to convince himself he 
was still here. A slightly drunk, freshly-laid face smiled back 
at him. He thought he could see someone he recognized out 
of the corner of his eye, and decided to take a leap and 
believe it wasn't an optical illusion. He remembered he had 
the ability to speak.  "Oh my God...you've killed me."

"But strangely, you still seem to be talking."  Scully sat open-
legged, bracing herself by holding on to the edge of the sink 
on each side. She was a little woozy, and moved slowly in 
the vain hope of concealing it from him. Blissed out and 
more than a bit smashed, she tried to eye him hoping to 
regain some kind of focus. Unfortunately, it was with less 
than a clinical perspective. Scully watched amused as 
Mulder's eyes pinwheeled, as if he was trying to think under 
duress. He looked dazed, and happy, an oddly provocative 
look for him. She could hardly believe she was thinking 
about sex again so soon. This was all his doing, and she 
would straighten him out tomorrow. But that was tomorrow. 
Right now, she was a woman on a mission, she needed to 
get him to the bed, they had to get to the bed. But first she 
had to get off this sink. Sliding down, she stood at Mulder's 
side, flatfooted as a duck.

Mulder flopped around and slumped against her  "Help me 
to bed...heed a dying man's last request."  He thought he'd 
given it the proper dramatic reading. It probably wasn't a 
good idea to be nuzzling her neck, but he just wasn't 
thinking as clearly as he should be.

They'd made their way down the hall, with Mulder playing 
the dying old man thing to the hilt. He leaned on her all the 
way, mumbling some crap about it getting darker, the light 
fading, but Scully would have the last laugh. She'd let him 
think this was all his idea--sometimes you fall back to 
overtake your opponent.  After fumbling and stumbling down 
the hall, outmatched by about a foot in height and 
outclassed by about a hundred pounds in weight, she finally 
lugged him into the bedroom, and positioned him at the side 
of the bed. Winching up her most sincere tone, she asked, 
"Mulder, how can I make you feel better?"  Then he gave her 
the opening she was waiting for.

In a microsecond, Mulder experienced a miraculous 
recovery. He stood tall, spread his feet apart and flung his 
arms open. He looked triumphant, irritatingly so. He flashed 
his most foxy, feral smile. He was Einstein, Heisenberg, 
Hawking--he'd gotten her back here and they were gonna do 
bad, bad things.

And then Scully seized the moment. Payback's a bitch, 
Mulder. She shoved him right in the solar plexus, hard, and 
he fell back onto the bed. God, she was enjoying herself.  
"No, no...you shouldn't do anything to risk further 
complications.  As your doctor, I'll have to insist. No more 
exertion for you."  The thud of him hitting the mattress was a 
delightful one indeed, for more than one reason. She was 
just about to turn to go back for the tray, haughty as hell, 
when she heard him throw down the gauntlet.

Mulder had to give her points for the stealth approach and 
the shot to the midsection. He studied his worthy adversary. 
Nice move, partner--good use of evasive maneuvers.  But 
methinks thou doth protest too much. Playtime's over--you 
need to get that delectable ass of yours in bed.  "Are you 
certain you wouldn't want to test that theory? This isn't like 
you, Scully..."  Mulder curled upon his side, and pulled down 
the comforter and sheets. He patted a spot and waited--one, 
two, and then,  "I can't believe you'd be satisfied making 
pronouncements based on sloppy research and pseudo-
science, but hey, that's just me. Honestly, you really sur--"  
Before he could get out another word, she jumped him. As 
she licked her way slowly across his chest and down his 
stomach, Mulder made a final assessment. Gotcha, big-time, 
Scully...ya' never saw it coming.  Gotcha exactly where I 
want ya'.  All Hail the King.

Scully chalked up her victory.  "Gotta hand it to you... one 
minute I'm in the bathroom...the next...."  Some strategically 
placed kisses along the line of hair that ran down from his 
navel, and her red hair tickling his groin,  "How do you do it, 
Mulder? "

He tried to get the last word in, but...well, he was 
preoccupied.

(End 3/3)

End of Chapter 3

*********************************************************************


Absolute Beginners  by diehard     Chapter 4

Part 1/3

Sunday 

The two of them made it to 11 am without any further 
detonations, declarations or personal demon chasing. 
Mulder was feeling quite chipper having slept from about 3 
am until just now.

Scully had gotten up about two hours before, and was 
amazed at how energized she felt--but these were unusual 
circumstances. She watched him stroll through her living 
room to the hall, naked, of course, and was treated to the 
sight of him digging through his duffel for a pair of pajama 
bottoms. He threw them on and sauntered toward her with a 
gunslinger's walk. Scully was half-way through breakfast 
when he finally made it to the kitchen table. He perched 
himself on the edge just next to where she'd spread her 
usual morning repast--some kind of thick, greenish health 
drink, fruit salad,  and a fistful of pills-vitamins, echinacea, 
astragalus, bee pollen, and god-only-knew-what-else.

"That's disgusting, Scully...vile, noxious, shall I go on?"  
Mulder screwed his face up in a combination of mock pain 
and revulsion. He'd gotten pretty good over the years at 
avoiding or ignoring her dietary attack on the unhealthy, the 
over-processed, the tasty. She was such a hypocrite---
caffeine junkie. She'd be up making a huge pot of coffee any 
minute.

"No, this is healthy. What I got you is disgusting."

"You got something for me?"

"Yes, even after I made dinner last night."  She cheesed a 
grin his way. He was about to say something and she cut 
him off.  "Yes, I'm going to count that as cooking dinner. 
Don't even try, Mulder. Anyway, one of us got up early 
enough to go the deli and get breakfast for a certain 
someone too lazy to get up at a reasonable hour. Oh, and 
good morning to you, too."

Mulder sized her up--she had on no makeup, hair tucked 
behind both ears, gray sweatpants, a gray sweatshirt at 
least two sizes too big and sneakers; looking like a coed, a 
hot one at that. His mind started to wander...Maybe I could 
be the horny English professor...Jesus, it really had been a 
long time. He shook his head, not quite up to his usual multi-
dimensional train of thought.  "Well, here's the thing--a 
certain someone who shall remain nameless fucked my 
brains out and I guess I needed to recuperate."  He leaned 
in and kissed her, and also tried to cop a little feel, but got 
his hand slapped away.  "Sorry, I don't know what I was 
thinking. Good morning, Scully."  He could see her eyes 
glinting with enjoyment, and used that observation to confirm 
that he was, in fact, the Man.

Scully gave him a very, very slight smile. Even though she 
loved his early morning frisking, she was not about to break. 
"I'll tell try to tell whoever it is to take it easy on you next 
time. Your breakfast is on the counter by the sink."

Mulder peered into the paper bag and pulled out a huge 
bagel with lox, cream cheese, onion, and tomato, and a 
quart of O.J.  How could he not love this woman? It was his 
usual Sunday special and she'd given him much shit about it 
the first time she'd seen him wolf it down.  "You're too good 
to me."

"You're just noticing that?"

"More so lately. Mind if I join you?" 

"Only if you let me finish my breakfast in peace."

"But, Scully," he whined, "what'll I get if I'm a good boy?"

"You might think about what you won't be getting if I can't 
finish a meal without being harassed."

Pulling a chair right next to her, Mulder pointed it the 
opposite direction and plopped down. This way he could eat 
and watch her the same time. He knew he was working her 
nerves here, but he couldn't help himself.  "Ah, love, ain't it 
grand?"

"Mulder, you realize there is plenty of room at the table. Is 
my life going to be nothing but this kind of aggravation from 
now on?"

"'Fraid so. Besides, the view's better here. Anyway, you 
seem fairly happy despite the tremendous burden this whole 
thing has placed on you."

He took a huge bite out of his bagel, and she used the 
momentary pause in the post-coital frivolity to segue the 
conversation toward something she'd been thinking about 
before he finally dragged his ass out of bed.  "I think we 
need some ground rules."

Wiping cream cheese from the corner of his mouth, he 
rebutted, "Don't you think that's a little too much strict 
rationalism on your part?"

"Just look at it as an opportunity to become more of a whole 
person."

"Touche. D.K. Scully shoots and scores. OK...I'm just 
guessing here, could it be you have something you'd like to 
throw into the hopper?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I do. Rule #1: No more 
dumps, ditches, or mysterious planned disappearances. I 
know you already said it, but I plan hold you to it, Mulder. I'm 
in too far now, and in case you haven't noticed, so are 
you...which means giving up the luxury of deciding for both 
of us. You've got to trust me to understand what needs to be 
done." 

He smiled---'The Divine Miss S' was calm, cool, and not 
about to lose that gorgeous head of hers. It was back to 
business, not as usual, but business nonetheless.  "You 
have my word. I can't promise I won't fight with you about it, 
but you certainly seem able to hold your own in that 
department...Can I finish eating now?"  He took another 
mouthful, and washed it down with some juice straight from 
the carton.

"By all means."  That went surprisingly well, and Scully 
decided she'd go ahead and press her luck. She took a giant 
swig of whatever it was she was drinking and wiped her 
mouth with the back of her hand.  A little fortifying was in 
order before she plunged ahead. "Here's Rule #2...we don't 
let on at work and we don't not let on. It's nobody's business 
but ours, anyway. Not even Skinner, especially not 
Skinner... Plausible deniability is a beautiful thing, Mulder, 
it's time we made it work for us."  She took a deep breath, 
realizing that, miracles of miracles, he was actually paying 
attention. Scully decided not to lose the momentum.  "And 
as long as we're talking about work--when we're on the 
clock--we're on the clock.  Business as usual.  Period. So 
don't get any ideas while we're out on a case. When we're at 
home--well, that's a different thing altogether. Surely you'd 
be able to come up with some mutual recreational activities 
for our off-time. And if you play your cards right, I might even 
surprise you and come up with a few myself."

"I'm down with that, girlfriend. What do we do now, sign a 
blood oath?"

"Mulder..."

"Alright, Scully, absolutely, positively in agreement here. 
Permission to speak further, Agent?"

She ran a finger down his sideburn, "I love a man who 
respects the chain of command."

"You know me so well."  He paused, tucking a strand of hair 
behind her ear, and focused his thoughts for a minute. He'd 
never talked this way with any woman before; it was time to 
step up to the plate.  "I'm not good at holding onto someone, 
in case you haven't noticed."

Scully leaned toward him a little more, "That's something we 
both have to work on, I think. "

"In my case, that would bring my lifetime record to...let me 
see..oh, yeah...one."

"Mulder, I am not going to participate in your festival of self-
flagellation, if that's where this is headed. It's too early for 
kinky stuff."

"So, it's just a question of timing, then? Remind me to get 
back to that one later." 

"Mulderrrr..."

"Listen, I just want to be better at this than I have been."  His 
voice was very quiet, and he paused before he went on.  "It 
occurred to me ....now get ready for this one, because I 
know it's a stretch ...."  She looked at him again, her brows 
quirked, and he smiled. "I think you and I need to spend 
more time talking. Really talking. Not about cases. Not about 
work. About us."   He stopped to take in what was clearly 
Scully's look of wonder and amazement.  "Yeah, it's really 
me talking,  I can barely believe I'm saying it myself.  I know 
the shock of such a radical departure might kill us, but it's a 
risk I'm willing to take...Pretty wild, huh?"  Things were 
moving along in Bizarro world...maybe someone had darted 
them in their sleep and they were tripping big time.

Scully wondered if she should pinch herself or Mulder, and 
then decided that more physical contact might not be the 
best idea at the moment. Besides, pinching wasn't what she 
really had in mind.  "You have my word you won't have to 
face possible death alone. I do think it's interesting, though, 
that you've linked communication between the sexes and 
the risk of mortality. 'Wild' doesn't begin to describe it. I was 
thinking more along the lines of ..."

"Wait...there's more. Just remember how fragile my ego is 
before you say anything." He finished the bagel and juice to 
stall for time before he started in on this one. He was getting 
ready to put his head on the chopping block.  "Screw it, 
here's what I want, Scully. Let me make things safer for you. 
The Gunmen and I made a half-assed plan a while ago to 
beef things up, and now I want to make it happen and I want 
you to not go nuclear. I know it's no guarantee, but I need to 
do it and you need to let me...There, I said it."  He shifted 
back in his chair and waited for the inevitable refusal and 
chewing out.

Scully took her vitamins, swallowed the rest of her drink, and 
took a deep, cleansing breath. "OK."

That made him sit right up. "Beg your pardon? What about a 
nailing me to the wall for being Neanderthal, sexist, 
patriarchal throw-back?"

"It seems like too much work at the moment. Besides, we 
both know you'd torture me with it until I said 'yes' anyway. 
You can go ahead with this thing on one condition."

"What's that?"

"What they do for me, they do for you."

"That's it?"

"Yep, and it's non-negotiable."

"Deal, now how do we seal the bargain?"  Mulder wiggled an 
eyebrow and offered up his best leer. 

"Let's do it the old-fashioned way."  And with that, Scully spit 
into her right hand and shoved it in his.  "Wasn't quite the 
warm, wet one you were hoping for, was it?"  She was 
grinning from ear to ear.

"It'll do, Scully, it'll do. I'm gonna call 'em before you change 
your mind. Your cell's still on the dresser, right?"  She 
nodded.  "I still need to dig mine out of my stuff."  Mulder got 
up, gave her a little nip on the side of her neck and started to 
lope off into the bedroom, when Scully grabbed his wrist.  

"Thanks for the weirdest weekend of my life."  It wasn't a 
joke.

He looked into those blue eyes and saw she meant it.  
"Weekend's not over yet."

As Mulder sprinted to the bedroom, Scully said to no one in 
particular,  "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."  It was time for 
coffee, lots of it.

(End1/3)

Part 2
Mulder made the call and told Frohike that today was the 
day for the fix-up project they'd discussed with an add-on 
that included his place. Frohike put two and two together 
and called him and undeserving bastard and threatened him 
with bodily harm if Scully so much as lost a minute of sleep 
because of him. The call was also being piped through the 
speaker phone, so he was treated to Langly's 'I told you so, 
man, I told you,' and Byers trying to rein everyone in. Finally, 
Byers won out and told him they'd be there in two hours with 
'the building materials.' Mulder made his way to the 
bathroom, brushed his teeth, splashed some water on his 
face--no shave--going for ruggedly handsome in case 
anyone cared, and meandered his way back to his duffel. He 
snagged some sweatpants, a baseball jersey and his 
running shoes and slipped them on. No running though, and 
come to think of it, no underwear either. After all, it was 
Sunday, and a guy's gotta chill out.  Right. OK, time to see 
what Scully was up to. He made his way back into the 
kitchen just in time to see her finishing the breakfast dishes. 
He slipped behind her and started kissing her neck.

"Mulder, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Seduce you, get in your pants, prep you for the naked 
pretzel, pick one."

"You know, that might've worked a little earlier, but there are 
people on the way."

"Not for two hours, one hundred and twenty minutes of 
uninterrupted free time.'

"There's where you're wrong. You've got enough time to put 
away your stuff, change the sheets, and clean up the 
bathroom. Sheets are on the top shelf of the bedroom 
closet. If you hurry, you can join me on the couch while I do 
The New York Times crossword puzzle."  She kissed him 
just shy of his mouth, patted his rump, and waived him off.

"Do I get to say anything about this?"

"Only how much you're gonna love taking a bath with me 
later and how good it'll be to roll around with me on a freshly 
made bed."

He couldn't argue with that.  So Mulder turned on his heels 
and skulked off.

"Hey, Mulder."

"Yeah?"

"Love...ain't it grand?"

After staking out part of the closet and the dresser and 
stowing away his belongings, Mulder finished doing the most 
housework he'd done in recent memory. Feeling he was 
quite the post-feminist ideal man, he weasled his way onto 
the couch and joined Scully's attack on the crossword 
puzzle. Actually, he managed to get her to play footsies with 
him under the pretense of working the damn thing...the 
things a man will do when he's in love. She seemed pretty 
invested in what seemed to him to be a thinly veiled 
charade, pretending to make with the pencil and the 
scribbling even though they hadn't actually come up with a 
single thing since his arrival. After a while, Mulder noticed 
she was a little distracted.  "Hey, Scully...what's up?"
Scully stopped chewing the end of her pencil and replied, 
"You know, I was thinking..."  She ran her foot up and down 
along his calf.

"It's a good thing one of us is still able to. As far as I'm 
concerned, there's only one head paying attention right now, 
and it ain't the big one. Well, actually..."

"Mulder, I'm trying to tell you something."  She stopped the 
whole leg thing.

"OK, let's hear it."

"I was thinking about the jerkoffs in the bullpen and I'm tired 
of ignoring their comments, their insults, their usual 
harangue. I hate the way they talk about you...about us. And 
I'm not gonna take it anymore. The next time I hear any of 
that crap coming from anyone of them...their ass is mine." 

"Isn't that sort of telegraphing the whole 'I'm his/he's mine' 
concept?"

"Not at all. It just maintaining the proper decorum and 
respect."

"Remind me never to cross you, Scully."   There was a 
knock at the door.

She got up and peered through the peephole. Huey, Dewey 
and Louie had arrived. Langly was staring the ceiling, had 
his hair back in a ponytail, and was sporting a T-shirt that 
read 'Reality is for People Who Can't Handle Dope.'  His 
ensemble was completed by a fresh wad of duct tape 
holding the bridge of his glasses together. Frohike had on 
camouflage pants, an oversized Harley-Davidson sweatshirt, 
a baseball cap on backwards, and was fiddling with 
something in his pockets. Byers had on his usual dark suit 
and white shirt, but no tie. It must've been his casual look. 
Frohike eased up to the peephole, so they were eye-to-eye,  
"Scrumptious Agent Scully, the calvary has arrived."

She let them in feeling she would live to regret this. They 
brought stuff, lots and lots of stuff. Stuff in tool boxes, stuff in 
black bags, and stuff in a titanium briefcase with a 
combination lock. They all gathered in the living room, with 
the Gunmen and Mulder perched on the couch, waiting, until 
Langly piped up,   "Jeez, are we gonna get started or what?"

"Well, why don't you just tell me what 'we're' supposed to be 
doing first."  Scully was standing with her hand on her hip 
looking all four of them up and down. God, they looked like 
guilty schoolboys, which would make her crotchety old Miss 
Scully.  "Frohike?  Byers?  Mulder? One of you better say 
something. While I realize the pattern on the slipcovers is 
fascinating, it doesn't require all of you staring at it with your 
mouths sealed shut."

"It's improved security, Agent Scully. We're going to install 
new locks for one thing. Triple bolt, the best."  Byers fiddled 
with his collar and wished he had on a tie.

"That's one. Keep going, guys."  Now she was tapping her 
foot, and shot Frohike a look that bored straight through to 
the back of his skull.

"Stupendous Agent Scully, they'll also be motion sensor 
alarms and a tracking device we're gonna install on your 
Fedmobile. The alarm sends off a signal that's carried on 
broadband, which we'll be constantly monitoring. If anything 
jumps off, we gotcha hot-wired to a secure line so that 
Mulder gets a call within 30 seconds. And vice versa. And 
the locator in your car is really a thing of beauty, if I do say 
so myself. We'll be randomly hopping from GPS to GPS, 
using their pull and their range, but never staying long 
enough to establish a pattern of use. And it'll all be cloaked 
and encrypted...our usual fabulousness. Nothing's too good 
for our favorite government employee. And yeah, we'll do 
Mulder's place and once we're done here. He doesn't have 
quite the same hold on me as you do, but..."

Langly blurted out,  "Yeah, now that you're officially Mulder's 
pistol packin' cutie...Yeow!...You're hurting 
me!...Mmmmfkrdm." 

Before she had a chance to react,  Mulder had leapt up, 
yanked him off the couch and had a hand slapped over his 
mouth. Byers and Frohike shoved one of the tool bags into 
his hand and hustled Langly out the door. It had been 
unanimously decided that he was the ideal candidate to 
install the bumper buddies.

Mulder cracked his knuckles and stretched,  "Didn't think 
you'd appreciate the elevation to 'cutie' status."

"Good call. Now, do I know everything I need to?"  She 
locked Mulder in her sights, and began to pick imaginary lint 
from his jersey.  "Well...do I?"

Byers began to fuss with the tool boxes and one of the black 
bags, while Frohike shoved the large silver suitcase toward 
Mulder.  "You wanna handle that, Ace? That's one's 
exclusively your baby."

"C'mere partner, I've got something special for you." Mulder 
cocked his head and gestured toward the newly vacated 
space left by Langly on the couch. He guided Scully down 
by her shoulders and joined her. Byers and Frohike took 
their cue to make themselves scarce and got busy changing 
the locks on the doors.

"Am I going to regret this, Mulder?"

"Regret is such a negative word, we both know you're too 
open-minded for that."

"How about opening the case, before I express a sentiment 
a helluva lot stronger than regret."

Mulder entered the combination, lifted the latches and 
treated Scully to a selection of firearms: Walther PPK's, 
SIGs, Smith and Wessons. There was also a small leg 
holster and a stockpile of rounds.  "Remember, nothing says 
'I love you' like hardware."

Scully's mouth dropped open a little, "And these, I assume, 
are for me."  Apparently, she'd received a betrothal gift. 
Could this day get any stranger?

"Some of them are for you, I think you can see there's a very 
smart, very chic holster with your name on it.  The other stuff 
we hide them in different parts of the apartment, in the trunk 
of your car...I do the same at my place."

"Then what, Mulder? Pose for the cover of 'Guns and 
Ammo?' Isn't this a little excessive?"

"Scully, you said you'd go with this, don't bail on me now. It's 
not the answer to every threat, but it's something. After 
Samantha..after everything..."

"Is it that important?"  Even though the answer was obvious, 
she was still trying to get used to this level of devotion being 
out in the open.

"It is...I must seem pretty wacked, right?"  Mulder ran his 
hands through his hair and waited.

"You mean at the moment, or just in general?"  Scully shook 
her head but she was smiling...not a lot, but enough in this 
case. What she going to do with him? 

"You must really love the nutcase type."

"It's the challenge of not being crazy with them that hooks 
me, although from the look of things I might be losing that 
one. By the way, how exactly did you get all this?"

"Scully, I'm a pretty persuasive guy. I have a couple of 
friends in the Bureau armory, and I told them I needed extra 
firepower for some extremely serious, extremely hush-hush 
undercover work. Plus, I threatened to tell Skinner I'd seen 
one of them getting some nooky in the storage cage with 
one of the women from records. Lucky for me, I pay 
attention to that sort of thing."

"So, basically you blackmailed them?"
 
"Whatever it takes. Hell, I've even been known to wait seven 
years to get someone to sleep with me. Stalk 'em long 
enough, and it's nothin' but net." 

"And here I thought I was finally succumbing to raw, animal 
magnetism."  Scully rose to her feet and took his hand. Out 
of nowhere, she dredged up her best suburban housewife 
voice,  "Honey, let's put our new stuff away."

The next few hours were spent hiding weapons and 
installing motion sensors in all the windows and doors, with 
Byers and Frohike showing them how to use the miniature 
controls so they could get around without tripping the damn 
things. The two Gunmen handled hook-up and Mulder and 
Scully, clean-up. Frohike was particularly proud he could get 
the controls down to the size and appearance of a keychain. 
Sometime during the whole thing, Langly reappeared, 
theoretically to get the Smith and Wessons to put in both 
their trunks, but really to see if his ass was still in a sling. He 
crept around the apartment, and Scully didn't say a thing 
until he was almost out the door again.

Without batting an eye, Scully drawled,  "Langly, you almost 
done, cutie?"

After almost wetting his pants, Langly managed an 'Uh-huh,' 
to the sound of a massive, collective sigh of relief.

Finally, it was all done and the five of them were sprawled 
across the living  room, with the Gunmen flopped on the 
couch, Scully in one of the overstuffed chairs, and Mulder 
sitting cross-legged at her feet. Someone had the brilliant 
idea of running out for Mexican take-out, and they stuffed 
themselves on enchiladas verdes and tacos al pastor. The 
Dos Equis washing it down didn't hurt either. The four boys 
were arguing the finer points of North American Bigfoot 
sightings and Scully wondered how she ended up as the 
Anti-Cinderella, complete with her own Lost Boy Prince and 
three techno-fairy godfathers. She suspected Mulder had 
been right about fate, the bastard. But he was her bastard, 
after all. Stifling a yawn, Scully asked,  "How did you 
pay for the rest of the stuff?"

Frohike explained despite a mouthful of enchilada,  "It's our 
treat...a little meal between friends."

"No that's not what I meant. How did you pay for the rest of 
the 'hardware,' Mulder?"

Langly was once again destined to stick his foot in it.  "The 
account, Scully, you know." Judging by the flash of 
unrecognition that passed over her face, Langly was able to 
deduce that no, Scully didn't know.

Immediately, the Gunmen realized that they were running 
late if they wanted to get Mulder's place done tonight, and 
they had to get going, and that Mulder could stay here, they 
could get into his apartment, no problem.

In order to stop the usual suspects, Scully barked, "Nobody 
move."

Mulder hadn't budged an inch from the spot at her feet all 
during dinner, and sure as hell wasn't about to now.  
"There's this last little thing...you and I and the boys have a 
joint account for emergencies."

"What are you talking about? No, don't tell me...Yes, you 
better tell me. What account? How much money?"  Scully 
could feel the start of a headache, a good one. And it was 
apparent that today was, in fact, getting stranger by the 
minute.

It was Byers now,  "Actually, I set it up, I sort of handle that 
kind of thing in general for us. It's an offshore account...we 
have access to it, as does Agent Mulder, of course...and 
you. It was done a couple of months ago. There isn't that 
much more to tell."

"I beg to differ, it would seem there's a wealth of information 
your boys need to let me in on. She lined Mulder up in her 
cross-hairs,  "And you...You constantly bounce checks, and I 
have to buy your lunch more often than not...Now you have 
money.  So, how much money is there,  Mulder?"

Mulder was rubbing his forehead, working on his own 
headache at this point. "Two and a half."

"Two and a half what?"

All three Gunmen chimed in, "Million, two and a half million 
dollars."

Scully sat back in her chair and stared at them all. This was 
no warped Cinderella story...she was in Wonderland without 
a doubt, and had carnal knowledge of the Mad Hatter to 
boot. She wasn't even angry, this was beyond getting angry 
about, there was no framework to even put this in. 
Congratulations, partner...you've achieved personal best in 
the 'Blow Away Scully' category. "You know, boys..." looking 
at the Gunmen,  "Maybe you should be on your way. Your 
friend and I have things to talk about."

In a matter of minutes, The Gunmen, their stuff, and the 
leftovers were gone. Mulder went to see them out and Scully 
thought she heard Frohike tell him to not be a total jackass 
and screw this up. She didn't try to follow them, instead, she 
settled back into her chair, closed her eyes and tried to will 
away her headache. The whole thing was ludicrous, 
although Bill would be surprised to find out that Mulder was 
no longer a worthless piece of shit. He was a rich one, thank 
you very much. She heard the triple snick of the lock and 
footsteps approaching. This ought to be good, this had 
better be good. She opened her eyes and saw him sitting 
down on the edge of the coffee table facing her.  "Would you 
care to explain?" 

He hunched forward and  leaned as close as possible 
without touching.  "I wanted to have something put away for 
you in case anything happened to me, in case you got sick 
again, in case we were faced with a situation and couldn't 
look to our friendly Federal government for help. Believe me, 
I was going to tell you tonight, Scully, I just wasn't planning 
on doing it in front of Moe, Larry, and Curly."   Mulder inched 
a little closer, and she didn't kick him, which he interpreted 
as an encouraging sign.  "It's part of my father's estate. My 
family has money, you know that...I'm the failed product of a 
Vineyard upbringing. But I've pretty much lived on my own 
since college, so I never thought about it one way or the 
other until I got a call from my mother saying it was going to 
be turned over to me. I just wanted to..."

She stopped him, her voice calm but firm,  "I don't want the 
money. I don't need it."

"Maybe I need you to have it. Look, it's not as if you landed 
Bill Gates here, Scully....It's some money that I stumbled 
onto because I couldn't completely escape what my parents 
thought I should have, and it's money we might need. Only 
you would have a problem with someone trying to share a 
couple of million and change ."

"Go on Mulder, convince me." She leaned back in the chair 
and closed her eyes again.

He was going to lay it all out for her, he would make sense, 
and she'd come around.  Maybe.  "What if they finally 
manage to close the X-files and we're no closer to finding 
Samantha, then what? What it Kurtzweil's right and his 
scenario happens one day?  How are we supposed to fight 
then?...What if your cancer reappears? What about 
experimental treatments? The amount in this account 
couldn't begin to cover all those possibilities, but at least it's 
what I can offer. And something might happen to me...I'm 
sorry, but you don't get to turn it down, it's just part of the 
whole package. It doesn't make you obligated to me."

"You almost had me until that last remark. 'Obligated,' 
Mulder? I think we're beyond 'obligated,' wouldn't you say?"

"OK. Strike that. We both have out crosses to bear, no pun 
intended. You get to deal with this terrible, terrible thing I've 
done to you and I get to deal with Bill and Charlie beating 
the crap out of me the first time you bring me to a family 
Christmas."

"I still don't want the money, and I plan on enjoying my 
brothers welcoming you to the family." Scully's voice was 
husky with fatigue, and a sigh she hadn't meant to make 
slipped out. He was not getting this, and she wasn't sure she 
could make him understand. We're in it together, Mulder, but 
not like this.

"Scully, are you listening?"

She started to draw herself up slowly, "Yes, Mulder, I'm 
listening, but you're the one not getting it."

"Well, enlighten me, then."

She sat all the way up and rubbed her knees.  "We've spent 
seven years looking over our shoulders. Who's disappeared 
now? Who'll die first? When's the end of the world? We've 
beaten the odds so far, Mulder, that's what I want, not 
money. I understand why you want to make sure you can 
keep looking for Samantha no matter what. I also know that 
in the worst-case scenario we have to be able to fight 
back. But as far as the cancer's concerned, I won't let it 
define my life, don't let it define yours, either. It's no way to 
live, and I plan on living, Mulder, in case you haven't noticed 
that recently, and you better start planning on living right 
along with me."  She waited for a minute, and when she 
spoke again, her voice was softer, almost hesitant.  "This 
was important for you to do, I know that. But, you've got to 
understand that no amount of money could ever make 
things right if something happened to you."  Scully reached 
for Mulder's hand, resting hers on the back of his. "The way 
the apartment is tricked out is bad enough, but this 
account...I know it doesn't make sense, but I feel if I say yes, 
it'll only be a matter of time until what we have comes to a 
bad end.  I want to believe in something else...I'm holding 
out for something else. You understand now?"

Mulder nodded his head, and took a hard breath. He got it.  
"I always had you pegged as a holdout, Scully. Point taken. 
No one can ever accuse me of being afraid of overkill when 
it comes to you."  He started to drum his fingers on her thigh, 
and offered her a look of mock-concern.  "I'm a little worried, 
though. You made a persuasive argument, but I detected 
reference to a potential bad omen. You realize you sound, 
dare I say it, superstitious?"

"You see what hanging around with you has done to me?" 
She was perched on the edge of the chair now, looking as 
tired as hell, but there was something in her eyes that told 
maybe there was hope for him yet.  "Listen, I'll talk to Byers 
about contingencies, but not about cancer, and not about 
you dying either."   She arched an eyebrow,  "It's just not 
part of my plan."  With that, she got up and headed down 
the hall. Walking toward the bathroom, she yelled over her 
shoulder,  "I'm taking a bath. It's time for hot water and 
solitude."

After watching her traipse away, he got up and rolled his 
neck, listening to every grisly pop. He took time to stretch 
and mentally assess the total damage.  Well, Mulder, you 
escaped relatively unscathed that time. Unfortunately, you 
blew your chance at 'bathtime with baby'...Nice work, you 
dolt. What's your next move, genius? With nothing 
appetizing on the horizon, he thought he should try to 
squelch the possibility of boredom. It most definitely was 
time for a recreational shot of whiskey. Maybe she might get 
thirsty in a little while and he could bring the bottle. On his 
way to the kitchen, he heard, "Mulder!"

When he got to the bathroom, the tub was almost filled, and 
Scully had on that huge, white terrycloth bathrobe. It wasn't 
fastened well, and there was enough skin showing to make 
him think she wasn't completely exhausted. He certainly was 
feeling uplifted. Leaning against the door jamb, Mulder 
checked the situation out, "Yes...?"

"Were you ever planning on getting in here? Bath's almost 
ready."

"I thought when you said solitude, you wanted a break from 
me, too, despite how adorable I am."

"Mulder, I just spent the day with your minions turning my 
apartment into a stockade. I meant I wanted some relief 
from that, not you. Besides, there's an important point I 
forgot to make."

"And that would be?"

"Over here." He went right to where she was, and before he 
knew it, her strong doctor's hands were yanking open his 
jersey. Against the sound of a button plinking on the floor, he 
tried to complain, "Hey...I really like that shirt."

"You've got money, go get yourself a new one. I just want to 
make sure you know I only want you for one thing."

Much, much later, as they were lying warm and dry and half 
asleep under the covers, Mulder did some final 
reconnaissance, "So, are we OK?"  She pulled him to her 
side of the bed and whispered,   "We're more than OK, but 
remind me never to pick up a tab for you again."

(End 2/3

Part 3

Monday Morning 

He shot up from bed with the sound of the Liberty Bell 
clanging in his ear. What the fuck was going on? He blinked 
and shook himself into something like wakefulness. Scully 
was gone and his cell had been placed on his pillow, 
strategically right beside where he'd been blissfully sleeping. 
He snatched it up and growled, "Yeah. What?"  The clock on 
the night stand read 7:30.

"Now what if that was Skinner, Mulder? Good morning, it's 
time to get up."

Scully. That tore it.  "Where are you? And how fast can 
those little legs run when I come after you?"

Some laughter from her end.  "I'd be careful if I were you, it's 
a felony to threaten a federal agent. I'm in the kitchen, hurry 
up and get ready for work. You know...W-O-R-K, it's what 
the government pays us to do, well, me anyway. 
C'mon...you're going to be on time today. You've got about a 
half an hour."

Mulder hauled himself from where he'd been sleeping the 
glorious sleep of the dead. The weekend had finally caught 
up with him and he was trashed, wiped, blown out. 
Apparently, he'd inadvertently discovered a cure for his 
insomnia, a healthy dose of Scully and getting it on. He'd 
have to talk with her about making sure he got daily 
treatment. Moving from the bed gingerly; he was stiff, and 
not in a good way. While he'd never admit age might be a 
factor, he was all too aware of the sounds of his joints 
creaking as he made his way to the bathroom. Standing at 
the mirror, he smirked at his exhausted, albeit, delightfully 
spent self. There would have to be revenge. "Mark my 
words, Scully,"  he muttered,  I'll do whatever it takes to wear 
you out...eventually. It may be my last act on Earth, but I'm 
looking forward to doin' it to death."

Having made that vow, he was able to ignore the voice in his 
head telling him he was hopelessly pussy-whipped. He 
shaved, showered and dressed, putting on his black suit and 
a starched, white shirt. The finishing touch was a tie even 
Scully would have to admit was a conservative choice. No 
cows, no flying saucers, no hidden couples illustrating poses 
from the Kama Sutra. He had to make a brief return trip the 
closet to fetch his Smith and Wesson, his Walther leg piece 
and holsters. He put them on in front of the bedroom mirror 
and let it settle in that in fact, the work week had arrived.

When he got to the kitchen, he was amused to see that 
Scully practically matched him in a black pantsuit and white 
blouse. She had her right foot up on a chair and hitched up 
her pantsleg in order to adjust the holster for her brand new 
SIG 239 9mm. Her waist holster was securely in place, and 
her SIG 226 rested securely against her hip. Once confident 
everything was going to hold, she stood, rolled back her 
shoulders and turned her head in his direction.  "Lo and 
behold...nice to see you're finally up."  She was definitely 
using the 'back to business' voice. Her brief case and their  
IDs and badges were on the table. She tossed him a granola 
bar and a banana.  "You can eat that later, we should go. 
I've got two autopsies to do, plus a 9 o'clock meeting with 
Skinner. What's on your agenda?" She managed a smile, a 
pretty good one considering they were already off and 
running.

"Violent Crimes consult, that'll be a great eye-opener. 
Nothing like five or six hours of hearing, 'What do you make 
of all of this, Spooky?'

They grabbed their stuff, and he threw the granola bar on 
the table and shoved the banana in his coatpocket. The 
titanium case with the rest of the firepower was stowed in 
the hall closet. They'd decide later when to 'redecorate' at 
his place. Ready to head out, Scully led the way with her 
briefcase under her arm and her hand on his elbow.  
Securing all the necessary devices with her new 'keychain' 
once they were in the hall, she teased, "I'm going to avoid 
the obvious question and assume you're glad to see me."

They drove in separately, but he followed her, bumping up 
against her rear end at every red light, relishing in the 
obvious symbolism. He even thought he saw her blow him a 
kiss in her rear-view mirror, but he knew she'd deny it if he 
said anything.

After squeezing into the last ground level spots in the 
garage, they walked into the building and eased past the 
usual security. At the elevators, Mulder asked, "So, do you 
have to meet Skinner right away?"  He needed a pick-me-
up.

She checked her watch, it was about ten to nine.  "No, I've 
got a couple of minutes."

"I was thinking...I know you said you'd no longer suffer the 
slings and arrows of our beloved colleagues from the 
bullpen, but that was just blowing smoke, right? You're not 
exactly the avenging angel type."  He leaned against the 
elevator bank and waited for her to take the bait. His eyes 
were lit up with barely concealed amusement. C'mon,  
Scully, just a tiny bit of fun before going back to the 
trenches.

And take the bait she did. Swallowed it whole, actually.  "So 
you think that was idle talk?"

"Something like that. You could prove me wrong, though. I 
mean, we could take a stroll through the bullpen right now, 
before you're your meeting and see if you can make good on 
all that tough talk. Of course, if you'd like to recant..."

"Mulder, get in the elevator. Hit the button...Let's go. You're 
on."  She knew exactly what he was doing, but the chance to 
hear the words 'I was wrong, Scully,' was irresistible.

They rode up to the fifth floor and made a beeline for the 
bullpen, and started down the long aisle of with rows of 
desks on either side. Sure enough, before they were a 
quarter of the way down, they heard someone's voice, loud 
and clear.  "How did that psych job end up with that primo 
piece of tail? I guess he must be getting his physicals on a 
regular basis."

As soon as she heard the offending remark, she got a visual 
on its source and headed for one desk in particular. Mulder 
was in hot pursuit right behind her.

Judging by his youthful appearance and the background 
color of his ID, he was a new Academy grad. They came up 
on his blind side, so he was unaware that the proverbial 
boom was about to be lowered. He was leaning toward one 
of his cohorts, reveling in what a clever guy he was, when 
Scully tapped him on the shoulder. Seeing the approach of 
imminent doom,  the cohorts immediately relocated to 
various parts of the woodwork. The kid seemed in generally 
good shape, although his face was round and pasty, like the 
Pillsbury Doughboy. Scully looked him up and down. 
Doughboy, it's time you learned a little respect. His head 
jerked up and he sputtered, "Yyyesss...Oh, Jeez."

"What's your name, Agent?"

"It's Walt, Walt Wisniewski."  He was beginning to look more 
pale, if such a thing was possible.

"OK, Agent Wiz..whatever your name is. Do you know who I 
am?"

"Yes, ma'am. You're Special Agent Dana Scully."

"And I take it you know who he is," pointing to where the 
'psych job' had parked himself on her right.

"Yes, he's Special Agent Fox Mulder."  There was a thin film 
of sweat forming on Doughboy's upper lip.

"And you understand we're senior agents, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're batting a thousand, so far, Agent Wiz. I had a 
question, though. Were you just talking about us?"

"No...no ma'am, not at all!"

"I see, so you were talking to yourself, then?"

"Well, not exactly...I mean, I..."

"C'mon, Agent Wiz, either you were talking about us or you 
weren't."

"Agent Scully, I wasn't talking about you or Agent Mulder, I 
swear."

"OK, let me get this straight...we were walking through the 
bullpen and you started talking to yourself."

"Uh...well...Oh, Jeez."

" 'Oh, Jeez,' indeed. Agent Wiz, when's your next psych 
eval?"

"Next August, ma'am."

"Agent Wiz, I feel like doing you a favor. I'm meeting with 
A.D. Skinner in a little while. What if I see if I can get your 
psych eval pushed up to, say...next week? How would that 
be?"

"Douhghboy's face fell completely at this point and his hands 
went to the side of his head like he'd been hit in the with a 
sledgehammer. "Thank you for your help, Agent Scully."

"Don't mention it."  She turned to Mulder,  "Do you have 
anything you'd like to add here?"

He furrowed his brow, waived his hands across his chest 
and mouthed, 'No, no, no.'

She slipped her hand on his shoulder, "I guess we should be 
going...Agent Mulder?"

"After you, Agent Scully. Please, after you."

As they sauntered back toward the elevator, Mulder didn't 
say he was wrong, he said something better.  "I'm scared of 
you."

"You should be..."  Just then her cell went off and she got it 
by the second ring. Gloating would have to wait for later.  
"Scully. Sir, I'm on my way... Yes, Agent Mulder's 
here...About out meeting...I see..."  A very long silence 
ensued, with whatever was being said on the other line 
causing Scully to fix her gaze on the ceiling.  "No, it's no 
problem...I'll handle the other matters tomorrow...It'll be 
taken of...Yes, sir. Today...I'll tell him, sir."  Conversation 
over. Scully's eyes narrowed and she locked looks with 
Mulder. Today's taste of victory was brief indeed. "In case 
you couldn't tell, that was Skinner. Whoever you saw in 
accounting on Friday complained to high holy hell and now 
you and I both have to go there and straighten everything 
out. Skinner said he didn't give a rat's ass how long it took 
us, just get it done and get it done right. By the way, your 
consult's been reassigned, my meeting's been cancelled 
and I have three autopsies to do tomorrow."  She put her cell 
away, and blew some air through pursed lips, "Let's go, 
we've got a long day ahead of us."

She started to get into the elevator when Mulder slid ahead 
of her, blocking her path.  "What? No chastising, Scully? Not 
even a decent scolding? That's not the woman I know and 
love."  He leaned toward her,  "Is there something I should 
know about?"

Scully's face was smooth and unreadable, except for her 
eyes. Something sly lurked in their depths for a minute, then 
disappeared.  "I'll take care of you when we get home 
tonight."

Mulder moved away to let her pass.   "I'm counting on it, 
Scully. I'm counting on it."

(End 3/3)

END