"For Now"

Author: Ann K

Rating/Category: NC-17, Reyes/Scully romance.

Spoilers: Post-episode for "Audrey Pauley."

Summary: Reyes returns home from the hospital to find
a friend waiting to comfort her.

Author's notes: This is so different from my normal writing
fare that I just had to share. Feedback welcomed at
annhkus@yahoo.com, although I am pretty confident this is my
first and last attempt at slash. I started this fic when, at
the end of "Audrey Pauley," I really wanted someone to be
there for Monica when she shut her door. Imagine my surprise
when that "someone" turned out to be Scully. Thanks to Kayla
for her comments and encouraging feedback.

Read more of my XF stories at www.geocities.com/annhkus


For Now (1/1)


She closed the door behind her, and stood for what seemed
like an eternity, until she heard John's truck start in the
heavy evening air. The rumble diminished as he drove down
the street, and Monica inhaled sharply. The events of the
past few days were almost too much for her to process, so
she filed them away, in the dark and burgeoning place
where she put experiences too unbelievable for even her
to accept.

Although she felt like she was completely alone, as alone
as she had been in the hallway of the distorted hospital,
she knew she wasn't. She waited for Dana to step out of the
shadows.

"You didn't invite him in." It was a statement, not a
question, but she felt compelled to answer it anyway.

"No, I didn't," she replied, reaching down to slip off her
shoes and flipping the foyer light off behind her. She walked
into the den, her eyes squinting in the darkness, as she
made out Dana's figure silhouetted against the window.

"Why?"

They both knew why, but she played along with Dana's game.

"Because I knew you were here." She stopped a few feet in
front of her, bringing her hand halfway up between them,
but pausing. She was hesitant, unsure. Even now. "You
knew I would be here, or you hoped I would?" Dana asked,
closing the distance between them in an easy stride and
taking Monica into her arms.

"Both, I suppose," she managed to whisper as she felt her
comforting warmth surround her, and closed her eyes, memorizing
the sensation. "I wanted you to be here," she finally admitted,
refusing to meet Dana's eyes, "but I wasn't sure. Not after
everything that has happened."

Dana pulled away slightly, and then kissed her lightly on
the brow. "Whatever has happened, Monica," she murmured,
her voice low and husky, "I am here for tonight. We
can deal with tomorrow when it comes."

How easy she made it sound, and how anxious Monica was to
believe. So she did. "Can I make you some tea?" she asked,
turning to walk into the kitchen and trying to regain some
control over the situation. Her house, her rules, and Dana
let her believe that. It made her feel better.

"Shouldn't I be the one making you tea, since you just returned
from a near-death experience?" Dana followed her into the
kitchen and settled across from her on the bar stool, her feet
just touching the floor. Monica had never been frightened of
death before, but Dana's words caused a shiver of panic.

"I'm fine, Dana," she answered curtly, throwing her favorite
phrase back at her. "I didn't die. I'm too ornery to die."
Her attempt at humor fell flat. The water in the kettle began to
boil as they sat across from each other, the loud clock in
the kitchen a quiet observer to their drama. I was scared,
Dana admitted silently. I know, she answered. I am glad you're
okay, Dana added. I know, Monica simply said. I know.

The tick-tock gave a background to their performance. "I was
scared for you, Monica," Dana finally said, breaking their
silent conversation. "I was scared for you, and I am ashamed to
admit that I believed you were gone. John was the only one, the
only one with faith, but I saw the charts, I saw the monitors,
and you were gone."

There. She had said it. Monica took a deep breath and reached
over to hold her hand.  "Dana, don't do this. You believed the
science because it is your truth. All your years with Mulder
couldn't change that. I don't expect to be able to change that,
despite my feelings for you."

Not in the intense encounters we have had as friends. Not in
the few short evenings we have shared as lovers, she added
silently.

Her phrase had an unintentional caress, hanging between them
for a moment before settling like the proverbial elephant.
She clicked off the kettle, busying herself with teacups and
sugar. Dana's voice caused her to jump.

"I am not John, Monica." She met her powerful blue eyes, and
saw the sorrow and anguish hidden there. Neither of them needed
this complication in their lives, yet here they were. "And I
am not Mulder. I can never be. I can never replace what you
had." She watched as Dana nodded sharply and walked towards
her in the kitchen.

But for now, they would comfort each other. For now, they would
be what was unattainable. It was a silent agreement, an unspoken
treaty, but for now, it was all they had.

Dana's gaze was dark and intense, stealthy as she moved toward
her in the shadows. "After Mulder, I was afraid to let myself
become close to anyone again. Seeing you in the hospital only
reinforced why." There was anguish in her voice that caused
Monica's heart to break. What a complicated mess they had
walked into, a spider's web that enveloped them no matter which
way they turned. She shivered as Dana caressed her neck, her
touch light and gentle. "But I'm here now," she replied. "I
didn't leave you."

Her gasp was swallowed by Dana's mouth covering hers, a deep,
dangerous kiss that spoke to their mutual desperation and need
for comfort. Monica felt her tongue flicker against her own,
and groaned as Dana's body settled against hers, backing her
into the door of the fridge behind them. She shut off her
thoughts, her fears, and the lingering despair over her
encounter with death, and concentrated on feeling alive. The
warmth of this body against hers and the promise of passion.

She protested as Dana stepped back, not wanting the kiss to
ever end. "Don't" she managed before she was cut off, Dana's
fingers on her mouth. Monica nipped at her fingers. "I need
to see you," Dana managed to utter, her breathing erratic and
uneven. "I need to see that you are here."

She understood what she was asking of her, and she understood
why. It was what brought them together. Although it had only
been a few months ago, she felt like Dana had known her, been
a part of her, for years. Monica was there when William was
born. Monica was there the day Mulder went away. Monica was
there when Dana desperately needed an ally in the search for
her child. She knew that Dana needed to know she was here now.
She nodded sharply, and stood, the torturous wait causing her
knees to tremble with arousal.

She wanted her so badly, but she could wait.

The clatter of her shirt button on the tile floor made her
jump, but Dana never wavered from her task, her gaze intent
as she unfastened the remaining row of buttons on her shirt.
Monica held her breath, the air cool against her skin as Dana
pulled the shirt open and let it fall from her shoulders. She
traced a finger down Monica's chest, her touch light. "Beautiful,"
she uttered, and Monica moaned softly in response.

Dana had never been so bold in their lovemaking, but she was
driven by a need to affirm-to affirm life, love and passion.
Monica understood, so she waited. The clasp of her bra opened
with a small click, and the garment fluttered to the floor,
joining her blouse in an untidy heap. She never dropped her
eyes from Dana's face, and was rewarded with a look of wonder
that graced her expression. Dana briefly raised her eyes to meet
her own, and gave her a small smile. "So beautiful," she said,
letting her fingers trace over her breasts, her thumb brushing
over the nipple.

Oh, god. She needed her so badly. But she knew what they both
needed more, so she bit her lip and waited. For now, she
could wait.

Dana ran both her hands down her chest, caressing her stomach.
Monica could tell she was fighting the urge to kiss her, to taste
her skin. Dana needed to see, to see her standing before her,
accepting and loving. Her eyes flickered shut as Dana's hands
came to rest on her waistband, and she groaned, the warmth
spreading down from her belly to her toes.

The button came undone easily, and the zipper followed, Dana's
hands trembling as she touched the warmth of her skin, her pelvic
bones beneath her hands. She slipped the pants over her hips,
Monica's light panties with them. Monica focused her gaze on
a spot on the wall behind them. Breathe. Breathe.

Dana's red hair emanated a burnished smolder even in the
evening shadows, and Monica watched the glow as she fell to her
knees in front of her, pulling Monica's pants to the ground.
She stepped out of them easily, and simply stood there, forcing
her breath to slow. It was an accompaniment to Dana's, the harsh
pants mirroring each other.

She stood there, naked and exposed, and felt Dana's gaze on
her body. It was as warm as her touch, and as comforting, and
the twinges of arousal grew. Just from being watched. But it
was the gaze of someone who loved her, beyond the definition
of love she had always known and accepted. Monica groaned as
she felt Dana's tongue against her wetness, and she shivered
as her voice came across her in ripples. "I need to taste you,"
Dana murmured, and she shut her eyes tightly and felt the warm
sensations and floated on the caress.

The orgasm shook her before she realized what was happening,
her shout loud against the tiles. It echoed, laughing, dancing,
a celebration of life and love. She stood still, the tremors
easing, breathing slower and more evenly, and finally met
Dana's gaze.

There were tears in her eyes, and a single tear slid down Dana's
cheek, dropping onto her silk blouse. Without thinking, Monica
sat down, pulling Dana against her, feeling the wetness of her
own tears. She heard Dana's words, and grasped her closer to her
naked body, twisting the strands of warm redness around her fingers
and inhaling the essence of this woman she loved.

"Don't leave me."

"I won't" was her reply, and they both knew it was true.

For now.

FINIS