Title: Mandrake's Message Author: Bidie McCucholl Category: VR Rating: NC17 for language and strong sexual situations Spoilers: None Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance. Erotica. Summary: Dana Scully gets an unexpected phone call from a man named Mandrake, in response to a deceptive phone call made by Scully several days before. When Scully finally identifies the caller, she is plunged headfirst into an erotic conversation about her fantasies, her desires, including her most secret wishes about her very sexy FBI partner. Sequel to "Cinnamon Calling". ================================================================== Disclaimer: I'll say it one more time---the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully do not belong to me. They belong to FOX, Chris Carter, and Ten Thirteen Productions. I am in no way making money off this little endeavor. The only reward I ask is that my fellow Philes please supply me with feedback regarding this story and any of my other stories at AgentXDoll@aol.com. Thanks a lot and enjoy the story! ================================================================== The phone was ringing. And ringing. And at the most inopportune time of her life. Dana Scully shivered as she stepped out of the steaming, bubble-filled bathtub which had so warmly welcomed her only minutes before. She had been determined to enjoy this rare ritual, considering her caseload had been particularly light during the week. For several days, Dana had returned to the sanctity of her humble dwelling without falling into her bed with exhaustion, and she had madee plans tonight to enjoy a relaxing bubble bath with no outside distractions. That is, until now. "Dammit, I'm coming," she yelled absently to the phone, forgetting that the phone was an inanimate object, incapable of expression, comprehension, or response. Wrapping an oversized terrycloth towel around her torso, she cursed whoever was giving her the honor of a call at such a late hour. Normally Dana would welcome a call---from her mother, her family, from anybody. It wasn't as if her phone needed the rest. In fact, Dana was convinced that her phone received too much rest. She was also convinced that she needed to put it to good use. She needed a social life. Some kind of life, outside the Bureau. Why hadn't she placed the phone in the bathroom before her bath, like a responsible, well-prepared woman? Because Dana Scully was far from responsible and well-prepared this evening. Dana seethed as she stomped into the living room, She picked up the phone, taking a deep breath. "Hello," she growled into the receiver, sounding none too happy. There was no response. "Hello," Dana repeated, this time more forcefully, as if a threat. Again, no response. "Look," Dana yelled into the phone, "I don't know who the hell you are or what the hell you're doing calling me so late, but you'd better have a damn good reason for calling, or else I'll have the police on your ass in two seconds, you hear me?" She could hear a slight breathing sound on the other end of the phone. A slow inhale, then an exhale. Inhale, exhale. Dammit, another prank caller. And *this* is what dragged her out of the warmth of her claw-foot bathtub? Somebody was going to pay for this. She'd make sure somebody's ass was behind bars tonight for interrupting her bath, not to mention the exquisitely erotic fantasy she'd been having. She shivered again, more from the thought of the fantasy than from the chill of the late evening. Thoughts she shouldn't be having. Thoughts she'd conditioned herself not to think about during work, during leisure, during rest. Only in dreams did they attempt to reassert themselves in the most temptingly erotic ways. No. She was not going to think about it. About any of it. It was dangerous, forbidden territory, and conscious fantasy could only harm, not help, the situation. The caller remained silent, the only sound ragged breathing. "Who are you?" she yelled. "Answer me, or you'll only make it worse on yourself!" She heard a whispered voice say, "Sorry, wrong number," and then a click, followed by a dial tone. What....? A guttural sound escaped from Dana's mouth as she pounded her fists on the couch. Damn prank callers. Probably some oversexed, prepubescent boy who had nothing better to do on a Friday night than to get off on calling single women in the area. Well, he won't get away with this, she thought to herself determinedly. She'd make sure that his parents, his neighbors...damn, the whole block would find out when the blue lights of the police would flash in his driveway. One less caller to disturb her peace and quiet. But she wouldn't have minded if the caller had been someone else. More particularly, a certain someone else. A certain someone else she had worked with for five years. Someone whose simple greeting of "it's me" could wreak such emotional turmoil within her icy, reserved exterior. A voice which never failed to cause her heart to stop, to skip a beat, to jump, to race in expectation, anticipation, hope. Hope that maybe, this time, he wasn't calling her to discuss the latest findings on a case, to get him out of his usual bind, or to be his scientific gofer. Every time, a disappointment. Then again, what could one expect from someone such as Fox Mulder? Dana sighed and sat on the couch, her eyes growing misty from her unfulfilled wishes of having anything more with Mulder. Most likely the man would never consider having anything to do with someone the likes of her. He probably thought of her as a scientist, devoid of feeling, of emotion, of passion. Worse yet, he probably considered her emotional detachment downright prudish and puritanical, the kiss of death for any woman needing the attentions of a particular man of their choosing. The truth was, she was far from prudish or puritanical. She was far from reserved or emotionless. There was depth to Dana that many would never have the privilege of seeing, only because she had never deemed them worthy to witness the vulnerability and sensitivity of her soul. Mulder had, on occasion, been able to penetrate the surface of her soul, and she, in her weakness, had gladly welcomed him inside. But then some freakish event or unusual happening would tear him away from her, leaving her heart open, exposed, vulnerable to hurt, to rejection, to abandonment. So she would build the wall again, this time with more attention to the cracks in the façade of her surname. She would vow, each and every time, never to allow Fox Mulder to gain access to her heart, yet time and time again, she would allow Fox Mulder to do just that. Finally, in a moment of desperation, Dana had gone shopping, to buy a suit that was nothing of Scully, and everything of Dana. Dana the passionate. Dana the tempestuous. Dana the temptress, the seductress. Everything that was in direct defiance of Scully, of the Scully that the Bureau knew, the Scully that her partner knew. She had worn it to work on Monday as an experiment, to witness the reactions of those around her. She'd received several appreciative glances from fellow colleagues, and an amusing look from Skinner, but no reaction from Mulder. She'd even changed her walk, her talk, her gestures, all in an elaborate show for Mulder, just to see if he would react with some form of lustful intent. Nothing. In fact, if anything, he was less attentive to her, burying his head in countless documents and photos for the remainder of the day. He'd barely even noticed her. When she'd suggested lunch, he'd declined her offer. She'd suggested an early dinner, and he'd declined that offer as well. She'd even offered to pay, and it wasn't like Mulder at all to turn down a free meal. Yet he'd refused. And Dana, feeling rejected and vulnerable, had left Headquarters that evening alone, with even more questions and no more answers than when she'd begun. And so she'd concocted another brilliant plan, a plan to gain some insight into the mind of Mulder. A plan to prey on his most licentious of weaknesses and find the answers to the questions she'd been seeking. It would be her revenge for the hurt he'd caused her by ignoring her obvious change in appearance. And she had succeeded, not as Scully, not as Dana, but as a sultry phone-sex impersonator named Cinnamon, the name a college boyfriend had affectionately given her. And Mulder had taken the bait. It had almost been too easy, procuring the information from him. He had told her everything she'd ever wanted to know about his desire for her, his longing for her, his admiration and appreciation of her beauty, all with her assumed name and a very sensual bedroom voice. As Mulder confessed his desires to 'Cinnamon', it had become increasingly more difficult for Dana to continue the ruse, particularly when he'd said he loved her. Especially when he had lost control and groaned her name into the phone in the heat of a passionate release from his physical frustrations. She had been sitting in this exact same spot, only four days ago, when their heated words of passion and desire had inflamed her to no end of sexual promise, and ever since, she had begun to allow herself the luxury of indulging in erotic fantasies with Mulder. She could not hide it any longer. She was sure he had seen the heated looks she'd directed his way in the basement office they'd shared, the day after the passionate conversation. The most difficult part had been the day after. Although Dana had been in prime position to approach Mulder with motives of a more sexual nature, she'd hesitated to take the final step that would propel her into the arms of the only man she'd ever loved. And although Mulder had expressed words of love and desire to her the night before, suddenly he was again the distant and self- absorbed FBI partner the next morning. Nothing had changed to indicate that he would become the initiator in this age-old courtship, even though her last words to him as 'Cinnamon' had been to tell Dana of his feelings. The coward. Resentment had begun to build within her, hardening her heart once again in defense of Mulder's indirect rejection of all she had to offer. She had become Scully again, to her dismay, and had come home the last three nights with tears in her eyes and a vain hope...more hope than ever that the next call she received would be a confession of love from Mulder. Yet that call had never come. Sighing, she rose from the couch and began to make her way into the bathroom to finish what was left of her hot bubble bath. Perhaps that would help to take her mind off the events of the past week. Dana thought with dismay, She had just descended into the water when the phone rang again. Goddammit, not again. "I'm not answering this time," she yelled to the phone as she immersed her auburn locks into the warmth of the water. As if the phone could hear her. "You can call some other lonely female. I'm enjoying my bath, you hear me?" She caught herself and stopped speaking. Oh yes, that was it. It was definite. She was certifiably crazy. Anyone who would talk to their own phone had to be suffering from some sort of psychosis. Anyone who'd fallen in love with Fox Mulder was definitely suffering from a multitude of psychoses. Grasping a handful of bubbles, she decided to let the answering machine take the call. No one of decent repute would be calling her at this hour anyway. The sound of her pre-recorded greeting welcomed her ears as she raised her head to hear whatever response would be given by the caller. A foreign voice resounded over the speaker of the machine, a low, husky baritone timbre that traveled from the machine straight to Dana's erogenous zones. "Hey, Dana. Just wanted to call and say hello," the voice slurred softly. "I was hoping you'd be in so we could---talk--- for a while." He chuckled. "A good friend of mine said you might need a little---company tonight and gave me your number. I hope you don't mind; from what I've heard, I think you're an incredibly sexy woman." Suddenly Dana found herself sitting upright in the tub, her senses reeling. Who was this man, anyway? Who had given him her number? And who exactly was this good friend he'd mentioned? She yelled to the phone again. "Mom, if this is another one of your matchmaking schemes, you can forget about dinner tomorrow night! I'm not a charity case!" She left the comfort of the bathtub and wrapped the now-damp towel around her once more to go to the phone. The man was still talking. "Dana, if you're there, please pick up. You won't regret it. I promise." His voice lowered to a deep bass with the last two words, sending tingles down Dana's body into the soft bud of her arousal. Her breath stopped. Should she take the call? No. What if he was some sick, twisted sex offender who harassed women for kicks? What if he was stalking her? What if...? Oh, hell, why not? It wasn't as if she was going to have any excitement tonight, or any night in the near future. If he tried anything funny, she could always trace the call or pull a few Bureau tricks on him. Slowly she picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver. "Hello," she said. "I'm sorry I couldn't get to the phone sooner; I was taking a bath." "A bath?" the man said. "Really? Was it a good one? With hot water and bubbles?" Dana frowned quizzically. "Why, yes it was," she replied. "How did you know?" "My friend said that you loved to soak in a hot bath with bubbles." The man's voice was excitingly erotic. "I see," Dana said in response, her heart pounding. "And how does your 'friend' know so much about my likes and dislikes?" "Because my friend is also your friend, Dana," he murmured. "A very good friend at that." Dana rapidly made a mental list of all her friends and acquaintances that knew such intimate details about her private life. There weren't many. But then again, it wasn't difficult to assume that any female would enjoy a relaxing bubble bath. Most women did. "So what else has your 'friend' told me about you?" Dana wanted to know. The man continued in his sexy voice. "Only that you're a beautiful woman and that you shouldn't be alone on a Friday night, if you get my meaning." His chuckle sent another tingle of pleasure into Dana's abdomen. Dana sighed as she felt the dormant sensations of arousal overtake her. She wasn't sure why she was allowing this man to continue this aural seduction. She wasn't sure why her body was responding in all the right places to the mere sound of his voice. That had never happened before. Well, maybe. Once. Okay, twice. All right, more than once, when her infinitely sexy partner had been in one of his rare flirtatious moods. When she would have gladly taken him up on his suggestions if she could have assured herself that he wasn't joking around with her. Especially when they'd huddled together in the Florida wilderness in an effort to keep warm. She winced as memories flooded her mind from that night. How Mulder had done everything short of propositioning her for hot and heavy sex in the middle of the forest. How she, in her insecurity and unwillingness to believe that Mulder would want her, had refused him with a witty remark about raining sleeping bags. She should have just jumped him right there, damn the consequences. Now she was still alone, months later, her only source of excitement being on the phone with an unknown but very seductive man. she thought miserably. "Dana? Are you still there?" the man asked softly, bringing her out of her reverie. She stammered into the phone. "Yes. Yes, I'm still here." "Good," he replied. "I was beginning to think you'd hung up on me." Dana inhaled a deep breath before answering him. She needed to feel attractive. She needed to feel sexy. It had been so long since she had felt like a woman, like Dana. She needed this, even if it was a virtual seduction. She spoke softly into the receiver. "Now why would I want to do that?" A low groan emanated from somewhere on the other end of the line, filling Dana's ears and flooding her senses with pleasure. Yes. She could do this. She would do this. She had denied herself these feelings for far too long, and if she couldn't have them with Mulder, she'd settle for what she could get. "Dana..." the man whispered, "do you have any idea how your voice turns me on?" Her eyes widened as she felt a dampness between her thighs. "God, I bet your body is as sexy as your voice," he sighed into the phone. "I wanna see it." Dana's breath began to come in rapid heaves as she realized the full extent of what was happening to her. She was definitely turned on by his voice as well. She wondered who he was, how he'd found her. But she was glad, for now, that he was here, even if he was a total stranger. A total stranger. Dana suddenly remembered what she was doing and gasped. "What?" the man responded. "What is it, Dana? Am I moving too fast for you?" "No," she said. "I just remembered---you know my name, but--- but I don't know yours." She paused for a second. "I would like to know your name." The man chuckled again. "Well, I can't tell you my real name," he said, "but I'll give you something better. Something more sexy than my real name." There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds as Dana waited patiently for his response. "Well?" she wanted to know. The man spoke again. "Mandrake," he said. "Call me Mandrake." "Mandrake, huh?" Dana was smiling. She knew very well the reasons why the man had chosen that particular word, given the circumstances of their present encounter. "Interesting that you should choose the mandrake plant as your alias," she said to him. "And why is that?" he asked. "Well," she replied, "being a scientist and a doctor by profession, I know all about the uses of various natural herbs." "You do, now?" Mandrake wanted to know. "Tell me some of these...uses." A slight pause allowed Dana to collect her thoughts. "Well, it's been known for years that mandrake has a variety of uses. Mandrake contains the alkaloids atropine and scopolomine, which in mild doses acts as a soporific, or a sleep inducer. In large quantities, however, these alkaloids can cause death in a person, therefore direct ingestion of the root is highly toxic." "Fascinating." The low rumble of Mandrake's voice penetrated Dana to her very core as she continued her speech. "Mandrake is also useful as a mild anasthetic," Dana said. "It was known to have been used in ancient times, when criminals were crucified. It also acts as an emetic, which induces vomiting." Well, so much for appearing attractive to a perfect stranger. Her clinical side had gotten the best of her for only a few seconds and here she was, spouting out unnecessary and quite undesirable information to a man she barely knew. Particularly the vomiting part. What was she thinking? "But what does that have to do with the choice of my name?" Mandrake wanted to know. "None of these uses have any significance to me." Dana smiled again, unsure how to continue the conversation. "Well, I'm sure you've heard of the somewhat---erotic properties associated with mandrake." "Erotic properties?" Mandrake asked. "Why don't you refresh my memory on some of them." The grin on Dana's face began to widen as she stumbled through the next sentence. "Um, normally doctors aren't---interested in pursuing the non-scientific aspects of medicinal herbs," she replied, feeling a growing heat on her cheeks. "But from time to time we hear of things that others believe to be true." "Such as?" Mandrake wanted to know. Dana could feel the fire in her cheeks as she briefly explained the somewhat off-topic uses for mandrake root. "Well, for centuries it's been widely held that mandrake was a powerful aphrodisiac," she said to him. "Couples would partake of the root in small quantities to fuel their, um, sexual desire." "Mhm..." Mandrake commented. "And what else?" "Well," Dana continued, "others who were interested in attracting a member of the opposite sex would drink a tea made from the mandrake root, or entice their beloved to partake of the root in order to win their desire and eternal love." "How interesting," he answered, his voice humming with sexual promise. "Ye Olde Love Potion Number Nine." "Something like that," Dana said, attempting to rid the incredible flush on her face by fanning herself agitatedly. Mandrake hummed a response to her statement, then spoke again. "I always knew that mandrake was an aphrodisiac, but I never knew how powerful it was. Did these little love potions succeed in capturing the love of a lifetime?" "No one knows for certain," Dana told him. "Clinical results haven't been substantial enough to prove that story. But there have been several instances in history to prove that there was great love between two people who had ingested the mandrake root as a love potion. Whether they are myth or medicine, we'll never know." Mandrake continued to listen with great interest. "I never knew there were so many uses for mandrake root," he commented. "You're a very intelligent woman, Dana." Dana found herself blushing, although she was aware that the man could not see her. "Well, thank you very much," she murmured into the phone. "Although my scientific demeanor tends to be boring and somewhat asexual to the average layman, I appreciate your comment." "Boring?" Mandrake said. "You could never be boring. Never." Dana laughed softly. "It's easy to say that to someone you've never met." "Perhaps," he said, "but something tells me that if we were to meet, I would be far from bored." That voice...God, did he know what that voice could do to her? She was finding herself very warm and very wet in certain places, not to mention the exquisite ache between her thighs. "So..." Mandrake said, his voice becoming huskier, "what do *you* believe about mandrake's erotic qualities?" This time Dana felt the heat of her blush all throughout her body, to the tips of her toes. "Um...what was the question again?" She hoped he would just drop the matter. "I said, what do you believe about mandrake's erotic qualities?" There was a lilting yet sexual tone to his voice, making Dana wonder if his question referred to flora or fauna. Deciding to play dumb, she opted for the flora of the subject at hand. "Well..." Dana said, taking a deep breath, "Being a scientist, I would have to be skeptical about mandrake's erotic qualities. Particularly since I've never sampled its root before." Damn, that had come out wrong. All wrong. She heard the groan on the other end of the phone and sighed as she felt the electric current between them multiply by infinity. Mandrake spoke again. "And if you had tried it out, and if it did have this incredible sexual power over you, what would you believe then?" Dear God, this man named Mandrake knew exactly what to say at exactly the right time. Dana moaned as she felt the insides of her womb begin to tingle with expectation of erotic fulfillment. "Ummm..." she interjected, scrambling to come up with an answer, "...I...would still hold true to my theory that the most potent aphrodisiac in the world is the human mind." Damn. Even her skepticism was being turned against her, she realized as Mandrake let out a hearty laugh, obviously reading much more into her statement than there had actually been. How *did* she get herself into these predicaments? Mandrake was still laughing moments later. "All right then, Dr. Dana," he said, chuckling, "let's see you prove your theory. Right now." Dana gasped. What exactly was he asking of her? What did she have to prove, particularly to a total stranger? Surely not.... "Wh-what do you want me to do?" she asked him softly, unsure of how to proceed with this conversation. Mandrake chuckled again. "I want you to test out your theory like any good scientist would. Tell me your fantasies. Give them to me. Prove to me how excited a person can get from a sexual fantasy." "Ohhhh...." Dana's voice trailed off as she realized just what this man was requesting. Up until now, the conversation had been harmless. Fun. Controllable. Now, however, they were at a crossroads, leading to a destination she feared would involve more than a casual little chat. With a perfect stranger. Oh, what the hell. She'd already gone too far as it was. What more could it hurt to go even farther? "Are you there, Dana?" Mandrake asked. "I'm here," she replied breathlessly, trying to find some semblance of logical thought. "Do you still want to do this?" he wanted to know. "Because if you're uncomfortable at all with this---" "No," Dana said, a curt reply to Mandrake's very concerned query. "No. I'm fine. I was just---thinking of where to begin." "Well, for starters," Mandrake said, "why don't you start with something that most turns you on? Anything you want." Dana sighed heavily. She had never revealed any of her private fantasies to anyone, including the few lovers she'd had in her lifetime. Slowly, softly, she began. "Well, sometimes I like to imagine that I'm an exotic harem girl," she told him, "and that I have just been bought by the sultan into his enormous family. He notices me from the moment he looks at me and calls me to his private chambers the very first night in my new home." "What does he want with you?" Mandrake asked. "I believe the question is, what doesn't he want with me?" Dana said, hearing a low groan on the other end of the phone. "We make love all night long in every position imaginable. He teaches me everything he knows about love, and when it's over, I am shown back to my room, exhausted." "What does he do to you, Dana?" Mandrake asked softly, almost in a whisper. "Everything," Dana said breathlessly. "I am helpless to do anything but to enjoy his ministrations. He is a fantastic lover...so sensual, so tender, and yet so forceful all at the same time. Knowing that the same man who is caressing me could kill me just as easily makes it even more exciting." Mandrake sighed into Dana's ear. "What else turns you on, Dana? Is there someone you like to dream about? To fantasize about? Someone who might be the object of your ultimate desires?" Dana closed her eyes as images of Mulder flashed vividly through her senses. Images of him in those godawful ties. Images of him half-naked from the waist up. Still more heated images of Mulder removing those second-skin blue jeans she loved to see him wear on his off days, to reveal every part of him. "Yes," she replied, her voice strained from the tension of the moment. "There is...there is someone." "Who is he?" Mandrake asked. Dana sighed again. "Someone I can't have," she murmured. "Someone who would never want me." "What makes you so sure?" Mandrake wanted to know. "If you're as beautiful as I think you are, I'm sure you'd have no problem getting his attention." Dana frowned. "I just don't know if he notices me or not," she told him. "Sometimes he seems to be so absorbed in his own causes that he loses sight of the other things around him." "Things like you," he commented, drawing another smile from Dana. "Yeah, things like me," she replied in affirmation. "Who is he? What does he do?" Mandrake asked. Dana sighed. She shouldn't be revealing this information to a stranger. It just did not feel right. Besides, what if this Mandrake guy was a good friend of Mulder's? What would she do if Mulder found out about her little confession? She would be laughed at for the rest of her Bureau days. Worse yet, she would probably never be able to face Mulder squarely in the eye again. A prospect Dana was not able to even consider. He had such beautiful eyes.... "Dana?" he said, prompting her out of her fantasy. "Oh, sorry," she answered, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it of Fox Mulder. But to no avail. "He---ahm, he---works for the Justice Department, as do I. In fact, we're both federal agents. And partners." Her reply was greeted with silence on the other end of the line. "Are you there?" she asked. Several seconds later, she heard a brief grunt as a confirmation of her query. "Partners, huh." Mandrake chuckled. "That makes it awfully convenient." "What do you mean?" What was he getting at? "Well," Mandrake continued, "If you're partners, you're constantly working together all the time. If you wanted to make a move, it would be easy for you to let him know how you felt and see which way the chips would fall." "Out of the question," Dana refused. "He'll never know how much I need to have him in my life." "And why is that?" His voice sounded strained all of a sudden. "Well, because---because he thinks I don't need anyone in my personal life. He thinks I get along just fine without anyone. But if he really knew my heart, he would know how much I need him as more than a friend and a partner." Again, silence for several moments. "Would that be such a bad thing for him to see how much you need him?" Dana closed her eyes, her breath caught somewhere in her throat. "Yes," she whispered, her mind flooding with future images of Mulder teasing her, joking about her, rejecting her. She could brave the forces of the universe with Mulder and lay down her life for him, but she would *never* let him see her need. Her desire. Her love. Mandrake suggested an alternative possibility. "Maybe he already knows how you feel and is just waiting for you to tell him. To admit it to him. And to yourself." Dana expelled the breath she had held for several seconds. "He'd laugh at me. He'd tell me I was crazy. I'd never be able to work with him again, and I'd rather have a professional relationship with him than risk everything to end up with nothing." "How will you know unless you try?" he said to her. When she didn't respond, he continued with his advice. "You know, my father always said that life is a gamble. It's all one big game of chance. You play each hand you're dealt to the best of your ability and hope that your hand's good enough to rake in the chips. Sometimes the hands are safe. Easy win. Sometimes they're not and you have to bluff. You place all your chips on the table and you cross your fingers, say your prayers, and hope that Lady Luck is kind to you." Dana slowly nodded in agreement. "But," he told her, "if you're content to play with the crappy hand you're dealt, and you don't take that risk, you lose. No chance of getting the big bucks. You lose from the moment you're handed the cards." He paused for a minute. "Now which sounds more agreeable to you? Playing it safe and losing anyway, or taking the chance and at least having a possibility of winning the kitty?" Dana smiled. "Something tells me your father was a damn good poker player." She heard a slight chuckle on the other end of the phone in response to her comment. "He was," Mandrake replied. "He was also damn good at figuring out life at an early age." "I guess so." "He always had some pearl of wisdom for every situation," he said to her. "Some little word of advice that totally made sense for any occasion. He was a wise man, one of the last in the world." "I'm sorry," Dana said with deep sympathy. "I lost my father several years ago as well." "Then you understand," he said. "You understand how precious life is. How you shouldn't waste a day wondering if you should do A, B, or C on your eternal To Do list. Just do it, Dana. Just take the chance. Lay it all out on the line." Her heart was racing, her palms sweaty from the moving speech this stranger had given her. He wasn't some sex offender or some stalker, just a genuine man who had taken an interest in her well- being. Now that she thought of it, it was probably her mother's doing that this man had called her. Another plan in her mother's schemes and devices to get Dana married off in this lifetime. So why hadn't she hung up? "Did my mother put you up to this?" she asked Mandrake with intense curiosity, her eyebrows furrowed in a frown. "Your mother...? What?" "Don't play dumb with me, Mandrake. Did Maggie Scully give you my number?" "Maggie...?" Mandrake seemed to be confused about the recent turn in the conversation. "I don't understand." Dana sighed in exasperation. "Never mind," she said, rolling her eyes. "She probably swore you to absolute secrecy anyway." When he didn't respond, she added, "It would be just like her to do something like that." "Can you blame her?" Mandrake asked her. "What?" "Can you blame her for wanting to see you happy and in love?" he continued, his voice a continual caress in Dana's ear. "Every mother wants their child to know real love. Heart-stopping, knee- knocking, real love. And you're willfully denying yourself the opportunity because of some selfish, stubborn pride that convinces you that you don't need that kind of love to be fulfilled in life." Dana gasped. "How dare you---" "Wait a minute; I'm not finished." The man's voice was gradually growing higher and higher in tone as a result of his heightened emotions. "What you don't know is that this kind of love you've rejected all your life is the only kind of love that CAN make you happy. The kind of love that most people spend a lifetime searching for. Lady Luck has been kind to just put it in front of you and here you are rejecting the possibility of being eternally happy, all because of pride. Well maybe your mother's right. Maybe you need someone to talk some sense into your head." Dana said nothing for several seconds, deep in thought over what this man, this complete stranger, had said to her. When she finally responded, her voice was nearly a whisper. "How do you know that Lady Luck has put such a kind of love in front of me?" She frowned as she spoke into the receiver. "You know nothing about Mulder. You know nothing about him, his moods, his eccentric little habits, his mannerisms. If anyone were to know if Mulder loved me, believe me, I would. I would've seen it by now." When her response was met by silence, Dana continued. "A scientist never throws himself whole-heartedly into a hypothesis he hasn't fully tested first. A scientist never believes a theory that hasn't had some measure of validity attached to it. Mulder has never said or done anything to indicate he loves me, therefore I cannot assume that he loves me or has any sort of romantic feelings for me." There was a long sigh on the other end of the phone. "Well maybe he's waiting for you to say something so that he can SHOW you how much he feels for you. Maybe he's just as scared as you are." Dana's heart stopped. Mulder? Scared? Afraid to tell her he loved her? Impossible. But the thought had never occurred to her before. What if...? "Why don't you say something to him, Dana, anything. Just be honest with him." Mandrake's voice lowered to a low murmur. Dana attempted to reply, but the words kept losing themselves on her tongue. "I--I wouldn't know what to say," she told him. "I don't think I could say anything." "Well, then, plan it beforehand." "No, I'm terrible at planning speeches. I usually end up sounding like an idiot." "Then plan it now. Right now," he said. "Practice on me." Dana was certain she'd heard him wrong. Surely he wasn't that concerned to get involved between her and Mulder. She didn't even know the man, didn't even know his real name, much less anything about him. But if he was willing to help.... She sighed. "All right, then." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I would start off by telling him that I'd wanted to do this for years, but I---" "No," Mandrake said. "That won't work." "What, what I just said?" "No, not what you just said, but the manner in which you said it." "Why not?" "If you're going to practice what you'll say, you might as well pretend you're talking to him right now. In the room with you." "What?" "I mean, talk to HIM. Talk to Mulder. Don't talk about him or around him. And speak into the phone while you're doing it. Don't worry, if you say something that doesn't sound right, I'll let you know. At least this way you'll be able to take back anything you don't mean to say to him." Dana nodded. "Okay," she said. What harm could it do? The man already knew her deepest feelings and fears anyway. It was a practical idea to rehearse her confession anyway, and any objective opinion would be a great help. "Well?" Mandrake said. "I'm ready when you are." Dana took in a quick breath, then released it. "I can't do this," she said. "Why not?" A long sigh from Dana followed Mandrake's question. "I just can't," she said. "It's very difficult for me to imagine talking to Mulder about...situations of this nature." She grimaced. "While your idea is a perfectly good solution in theory, I don't think I can confess my feelings to an imaginary person." "Really?" Mandrake said. "Didn't you have an imaginary friend when you were little?" "Yeah," she replied, "but you'll have to agree that this...is somewhat different." Mandrake chuckled in response to her comment. "So do you have an alternative solution, Dana?" he asked her. Dana thought for a minute before answering him. "Nothing's coming to mind," she said. "Unless..." "Unless what?" A subtle smile slowly made its way across Dana's lips. "Unless you would like to pretend along with me." "I..." Mandrake's voice was nearly a whisper. "I...don't understand..." "Well, I'll clarify my request," she replied, her eyes fixed on the wall. "If you could pretend to be Mulder, it might help me get everything out much easier." She heard a swift intake of breath on the other end of the phone. "Dana..." "Yes?" "You...you don't know what you're asking..." "What?" She frowned. "Why not? Wasn't this your idea to begin with?" "Well..." His voice diminished to practically nothing. "It's just...I don't know if I can pretend to be Mulder." Dana carefully listened to every word Mandrake had said before responding. "Yes you can. It's easy. Just sit back and let me do all the work. All you have to do is listen." "Are you sure...?" "Yes, I'm sure. It's the only way I can get this out before I have to do this in real life," she reasoned. Dana heard a long sigh on the other end of the line. "All right, Dana," Mandrake replied. "I'll be Mulder." Dana nodded in acceptance, in spite of the fact that her gesture could not be seen by the mysterious Mandrake. Her lips curved in the slightest hint of a smile, as she began to ponder the various ways in which she could confess her feelings over the phone...to a complete stranger no less, pretending to be the object of her secret affections. "Hmmm..." she murmured into the receiver. "If I wanted to reveal my most secret emotions to someone, how would I go about it?" Mandrake paused before replying. "Why don't you start off by imagining your surroundings. Imagine a quiet place, somewhere far away from the bustle of everyday life. Some place peaceful, relaxing." Dana closed her eyes and began to let her mind wander into a rare moment of fantasy. She sighed and smiled as the familiar images of a family mountain retreat began to flow into her consciousness. "Where are you, Dana?" Mandrake's voice seemed to be eternities away. "I'm...in my family's old mountain cabin. In Colorado." She sighed again as the welcoming images began to surface from the depths of her childhood memories. Memories of games played with Bill Junior and Melissa. Memories of heartwarming fireside talks with the family, of the endless times her Ahab read to his Starbuck by the embracing embers of the fire, while the elements of wind and rain waged war with one another outside the cabin. "That's where we are." "We?" Mandrake asked. "We," Dana mumbled, lost in her fantasy. "Mulder and myself." Suddenly Dana heard her unknown caller begin to speak in a strangely familiar tone of voice. That sexy baritone timbre she was all too familiar with after five years. Was it...could it be...? she told herself, sinking her languid body onto the length of the couch. "Why am I here, Dana?" Mandrake asked her, referring to himself as Mulder. Dana opened her eyes and frowned. Something was not quite right. "No," she said. "Don't call me Dana." A brief silence greeted her request. "Scully," she replied, closing her eyes again, imagining the blazing fire of the warm mountain cabin and a very handsome FBI partner sitting at her side. "I want you to call me Scully." "Scully." The voice was dark, deep, and soft as a whisper. It was Mulder, completely Mulder, even if only in her tempting, tranceful, state of illusion. Dana sighed contentedly. "That'sss more like it..." she hissed in a half-voice, extending her body to occupy the full length of the couch. "Talk to me, Mulder." She barely heard the ragged breath on the other end of the line. "Scully..." he said. "Why...why am I here with you in your family's cabin?" Dana smiled. "I invited you, silly," she said, in a girlish voice. "To get away for a while. From Washington, from work, from that joke of an existence we call life." "I see," he murmured in response. "What room are we in?" "The den," she replied lazily. "We're sitting on the large couch in front of a huge fireplace. You've just built the biggest fire in an effort to prove your manhood to me." Mandrake chuckled. "I have to prove my manhood to you?" he asked. "I must really want to impress you with my manly prowess." Dana giggled in response, imagining the look Mulder would give her if he had indeed built a blazing fire in her cabin. No doubt he would have considered it a crowning achievement. "And we've just eaten the best dinner, with rich dessert and an exceptional wine. We've both stuffed ourselves silly and are about to fall asleep." She sighed again. "Oh, we can't have that, can we?" Mandrake said with a hint of mischief. "Well, then, you have to keep me awake...somehow." She smiled impishly. "I have plenty of ideas," he rumbled into Dana's ear. She gasped as she imagined Mulder's voice whispering such a sexy comment into her ear. He seemed so real... right in front of her...the warmth of the fireplace melting her inhibitions, the pure pleasure of having him so close to her...so close... "Why don't you...tell me some of your ideas?" she suggested, imagining his face only inches from hers. Mandrake chuckled again in that sexy voice of his. "Not until you tell me why you manipulated me into coming up here," he said. "Mmm...." Dana hummed into the phone, her voice suddenly sultry and sexual. "Do you really need an answer to that?" "Don't beat around the bush, Scully," he said, his voice lowering as well. "Tell me." Dana inhaled a slow, sustained breath before continuing. "I brought you here to tell you something...something very important to me. To us." There was a brief silence before Mandrake answered her. "You're entering the Iditarod dog race." Dana giggled again. To be a stranger, the man, oddly enough, had the mouth of her Mulder. Her Mulder.... She smiled. "No, I'm not entering the Iditarod dog race." "You're entering me in the Iditarod dog race." He said it flatly, with no trace of intended humor. Just like Mulder... Was it just her imagination, or was this stranger's voice beginning to sound suspiciously familiar? Dana frowned and shook her head vigorously in an attempt to clear her mind of these questions. she chided herself. "Scully? Dana? Are you there?" "Yes, I'm here," she replied, willing herself out of her private thoughts. As if in obedience to her command, her body relaxed again and again she resumed her fantasy. "Now...where were we?" Mandrake chuckled softly. "You've forgotten already?" She smiled. "I...just got sidetracked for a minute." His chuckle grew louder in response to Dana's reply. "Dana Scully doesn't seem to be the type to get sidetracked at all. Must've been a substantial distraction." When she did not answer, he continued. "Does the thought of Mulder distract you, Dana?" Her sharp intake of breath was a reply in itself. "It's... a pleasant distraction. A very...pleasurable distraction," she told him, her voice humming with sensuality. "I see," he said, his voice lowering as well. "So...where were we again?" she queried, her sky blue eyes veiled dreamily by long auburn lashes. "The Iditarod," Mandrake replied with a trace of dry humor in his voice. "Oh yes. The Iditarod." A warm smile crept across Dana's full lips. "I had something I needed to tell you." "So tell me already," he said, with the slightest hint of impatience in his voice. Dana inhaled a long, slow breath, imagining the cabin, the fire, the satisfaction of a perfect dinner with perfect company. Suddenly it wasn't so difficult to imagine herself revealing her most intimate fantasies and feelings to Mulder. The stage had been set. The actors were present, at least in her fantasy. The script...well, no script had been written yet, but she would attend to that matter directly. "Mulder..." she began. "I...I don't know how to put into words what I want to say...somehow it seems too casual, too cliche, too trite, to merely verbalize." She imagined his look of puzzlement, of wonder, of curiosity, and concern all at once as she began her confession. Expecting to hear something in reply, Dana paused briefly. Silence was her only response. "And as you know," she continued, "I am far from casual, cliché, or trite." She exhaled the rest of her pent-up breath in one swift release. "So get to it already," she heard him say...she imagined Mulder saying. Just like Mulder...blunt, aggressive, annoyingly and bitingly direct. Cut to the chase. No tolerance for sidestepping or stalling. Which was what Dana Scully was doing at that exact moment. Trying to form a logical, coherent manner in which her feelings could be revealed, instead of sounding like some gawky adolescent schoolgirl admitting her crush to her object of adoration. Truth be known, she felt like a schoolgirl. Vulnerable. Self-conscious. Afraid. Afraid of rejection. Afraid of unrequited affection. Just afraid in general. "Scully...?" he murmured softly. She envisioned Mulder's face, full of curiosity, anticipation. That handsome face drawing nearer to hers, encouraging her discomfort, prompting her to reveal what she most wanted---and feared---to reveal. Those velvety hazel eyes, searching and probing her own, for the answers she tenuously held on the borders of her soul. "Mulder..." she said, choking on her own voice as she fought to contain the sounds, the words, she was about to form. "I..." "Tell me, Scully," she heard him say. "Mulder, I...." Her heart was pounding, her pulse racing. It was as if her fantasy had become reality. As if Mulder was no longer in her mind, but in the room with her. Even in the comfort of her own apartment, in the safety of an anonymous confession, Dana could not bring herself to purge her heart of its burden of a secret affection. "Scully, tell me. You can trust me." "I trust you, Mulder," she said, "You know I trust you. But this goes beyond trust, beyond anything you or I have ever known or experienced." "What could go beyond trust, Scully?" she heard him ask. In her mind, she saw Mulder's look of concern as he placed a hand on her shoulder. The mere thought of his touch on her set her skin afire, ablaze with wanton desire. This time, however, Dana knew the fire was too great to suppress, to quench with other thoughts, other emotions, other distractions. This fire had to run its full course, to consume her, to consume everything in its path, in its quest for changing an ember of fear to a flame of love. "Mulder," she said, taking a deep breath, "the feelings I have for you transcend trust. These feelings have always transcended my trust in you. I trust you with my life. You know that. I trust you with my soul. You know that as well. But there's something you don't know... something you've never known that I've wanted to entrust in you for years." "What is it, Scully?" the voice on the other end was now a mere whisper. Somehow finding the courage to speak her next words, Scully murmured, "I trust you with my heart, Mulder." Suddenly a ragged sigh penetrated the receiver, entering the delicate shell of Dana's ear, resounding and reverberating throughout the fragile canal. "Scully..." she heard him sigh again. She closed her eyes as she imagined Mulder, his eyes closed, his head bowed in deep contemplation of what she had just said to him. What would he be thinking? What would possibly run through Mulder's mind if she really confessed her feelings to him? How would he respond? "I love you, Mulder. And it is my hope...my most fervent hope...that you love me in return." There. She had said it. She had finally confessed her most burning secret to her most cherished friend and partner, even if in fantasy. But in fantasy, all dreams could be fulfilled, all wishes granted. Happily ever after, as the childhood fairy tales suggested. A real-life confession to Mulder would not be fantasy. She could never place her faith in the outcome of a fantasy. Still.... The sound was exquisite. The four most beautiful words in the realm of her vernacular, spoken, expressed. Like the ancients, who believed in the omnipotence of the spoken word, newfound courage filled her vitals as the strength and might of those words began to conquer her fears. She suddenly heard a response...a soft whisper in the ear of the receiver. "Scully...Dana...that was beautiful." "Do you think it...will be acceptable?" she wanted to know, suddenly filled with the power of the cosmos. "I...I was touched. Moved beyond words. It was... it was perfect." He released a heavy sigh into the phone. Dana closed her eyes as she imagined Mulder being moved beyond words. Moved enough to close the distance between them on the couch and claim her lips in ardent, animal passion. And then.... "Dana?" It took several moments for Dana to realize that her substitute lover was addressing her. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I was...I was lost in thought." "Really." Mandrake chuckled. "What were you thinking about?" She smiled secretively. "I'm sure you can easily draw your own conclusions, dear sir." His laugh sent another wave of chills up and down Dana's spine. Who was he? What had caused him to take such an interest in her life? And why did his voice sound so excitingly familiar to her? "Ah, but I don't *want* to draw my own conclusions," he said to her. "I want you to tell me. Tell me what you were thinking. You started the fantasy; complete it." "Complete it?" Dana suddenly felt the heat of the blood rushing to her face. "You mean...?" "You know what I mean, Dana." Mandrake's voice was low, dark, and charged with sexual intent. "Mulder is in that room with you, Scully, and he wants to know how much you love him. How much you care for him. I don't think words will satisfy him at this delicate stage in your confession." Dana took several long, slow breaths, fighting to control the signs of her now-obvious arousal. Her body had now begun throbbing in several places she'd nearly forgotten about...it had been so long. Too long. "Talk to me, Scully," he rumbled into the phone. "Tell me what you would want from Mulder...what you need from him." Her eyes began to dance underneath the delicate cover of their lids as she envisioned Mulder's face nearing her own, his full, pouting lips parted ever so slightly in anticipation of what she most wanted him to do. Then she was aware of her own mirrored movements and licked her lips hungrily. "Mulder..." she pleaded into the phone. "You're going to kiss me. I've been waiting for this..." "Yes..." she heard the faint whisper in the receiver. "Closer and closer we come to one another...then, then finally...our lips touch for the first time." Dana sighed as she imagined how baby soft Mulder's lips would be, pressed against her own. A muffled groan greeted her ears. "Softly...slowly...ever so slowly...your lips begin to move against mine," she said, her voice suddenly heavy with desire. "The feeling is incredible. I never knew such pleasure could come from something so deceptively simple." Another muffled groan. As if by magic, the towel which had been so snugly wrapped around Dana's petite body began to slide away from its owner's torso. Dana gasped as she watched the towel gently undo itself, from the fullness of her breasts, down to the gentle swell of her hips, yet she did nothing to attempt to cover herself. As a matter of fact, she enjoyed the feeling of the cool air on her satin flesh. It was a luxury in which she had rarely indulged herself. She remembered times of impetuous youth, exhibiting herself before young, exuberant lovers who had never complained of her wanton display. Would Mulder complain? First, he would have to become her lover. As soon as she began to envision delectable scenarios in which to display herself to Mulder, she was interrupted from her private thoughts. "Dana...Dana, please... please continue." His statement sounded more like an imperative plea than a suggestion. Closing her eyes, she continued her fantasy. "Your lips move down to my neck...oh, God, it feels so good...there is such power in your kiss, such strength, yet such gentleness." Involuntarily her hands trailed upward to her neck, her fingers feathering up and down in a gentle caress, imagining his lips there. "Suddenly you tire of being gentle. Your lips begin to invade my neck. I feel the pressure as you kiss and suck and nip with your teeth. I feel the bruises beginning to form, but I don't mind. I love your passion. I want more of it." She was keenly aware of him as he uttered her name, in a low, guttural groan that nearly sent her over the edge. "You move lower, to my breasts. Oh..." Dana's voice trailed off as she imagined the languorous pleasure of his lips covering her breasts. "Then my nipples... your tongue...your teeth...." Her sentences became garbled phrases as her hand began to caress herself. "I want all of you, Dana," he breathed into the phone. "I can't wait much longer." "I can't either," she replied, her hands moving frantically over her breasts, over her body. "Oh, God, Mulder, I want you so bad..." "Dana...oh, Dana," she heard him croon into the receiver. "Don't deny me this. Don't ever deny us this." "No, no, never," she gasped, her hand finally resting upon the satin bud of her arousal. "I want you to make love to me. Now." "Then make it happen," he growled into her ear. "Make it happen, Dana. Do it." Dana began to pant heavily as steamy, sexy images of a naked Mulder began to come into focus. A very handsome, naked, and aroused Mulder, on top of her, in her bed. Kissing her all over, murmuring her name, touching her. "We're in bed," she gasped breathlessly into the receiver. "You're on top of me, kissing me, touching me, loving me with every part of you except the one I need the most. I want that part of you so badly, but you tease me. You tease me until I beg you for it." "Beg me, Dana," she heard him groan. "Take me, Mulder, all of me...Come inside me. Fill me. Complete me in every sense. Now." Her 'begging' suddenly had become a biting command. Her reply was met with a series of ragged groans and breaths. "Dana....yes...." And then she cried out in pleasure as her fingers found their destination....inside her most secret place. Her mind was filled with images of Mulder entering her, his face contorted with pleasure as he gently filled her warm, wet softness with his own heated hardness. "You're inside me," she whispered into the phone. "Oh my God, you feel so good...." "Dana, Dana, Dana..." he sighed, over and over again. She continued. "I wrap my legs around your hips to guide you in further, more deeply inside of me. I am amazed at how well we fit together. We are perfect...we are one." She heard him grunt an unintelligible response. "And then...we begin to move with each other...partners in every sense....working in tandem with each other to achieve the heights of passion...desire. I moan and groan as you thrust deeply inside of me, as you withdraw and then fill me, over and over. There is nothing in the world that can give me such joy, such pleasure, such happiness." "Oh, God..." She let out a strangled cry as her fingers increased the tempo of their thrusts. "You begin to move inside of me more urgently, more passionately. Our bodies are slick and sweating from the heat we are creating, the energy we're expending. I turn my head to lick the salt from your skin... my God, you smell wonderful in the heat of our lovemaking." "Oh, Dana...please don't stop," he chanted, over and over. She gasped and let out another cry as she felt the first spasms overtake her. "I feel it coming," she groaned into the receiver. "I can't hold it back...you feel so wonderful inside of me....oh GOD...." "Dana...Dana Scully, I love you," she heard him say. And then she came with a loud cry, with an orgasm so violent, that she felt her honeyed insides contract against each other, sending her entire body into rapid convulsions. She opened her deep sapphire eyes, darkened by the exquisite rapture of heavenly fulfillment. She cried her beloved's name, over and over into the receiver, as the spasms slowly subsided. "Dear God...oh, Mulder..." she murmured, as the bliss of sweet release enveloped her. Cradling the receiver tenderly against her ear, she sighed contentedly into the phone. Mandrake was the first to speak. "That...that was... that was---" "Incredible," Dana finished his sentence, sighing again. "Absolutely incredible." And then she remembered. The phone. The pretense, the fantasy. No Mulder. Only a stranger named Mandrake. Suddenly she sat upright on the couch, frantically trying to cover herself, although she knew no one could see her nakedness. "Dana...damn, you're beautiful..." the man murmured. "I only wish this Mulder guy could know what he has waiting for him." She frowned, suddenly enraged, indignant, and violated. The stranger to whom she had so openly revealed herself, the one who now held the secrets to all her hidden desires and fantasies, was on the phone with her. No Mulder. It had never been Mulder; her mind and this stranger had openly taken advantage of her vulnerability. Again she felt the blood rush to her face, but not from arousal. "I'm hanging up," she hissed. "Right now, you psycho." "What?" he exclaimed incredulously. "What did I do?" "What did you do?!?" Dana yelled into the phone. "You've had me on a phone for God knows how long getting me to reveal things about myself I won't even reveal to my own family, and you have the balls to ask what you did?!?" She hit a nearby table in frustration. "I'm calling the police so that they can haul your ass into jail where you belong, you sick fucker." "Wait...wait a minute," he said in rebuttal. "First off, *YOU* didn't have to say anything. I never forced you to give me any answers; you did it out of your own free will." He paused for a second. "And before you call the police on my ass, you should know that they can't arrest me." "Why not?" Dana said mockingly. "Well, why don't you go check your caller ID and see for yourself," the man said, in a voice that was not his own. A voice which was not strange to her. A voice which she had heard over and over again for five years. Dear God, could it be...was it...? Dana threw the phone on the couch and ran to the small LCD screen that sat on the nightstand in her bedroom. She looked at the all-too-familiar combination of numbers as the confirmation of her worst fears...or hopes... Dammit. Slowly she walked back into the living room, her breath coming in rapid gasps. Damn him. Damn him, damn him, DAMN HIM. It couldn't have been...all that time...and he'd never said a word...he'd just continued with the pretense. That bastard. That cowardly bastard. Too scared to come out and tell her it was him. And she'd been gullible enough to believe him. She'd been too stupid to go into the bedroom and check the number before she'd waltzed off into a dance of fantasy with him. And now she'd confessed everything...EVERYTHING....and he had gladly taken it all in. Even the heights of her orgasm, with his damned-to-Hell name on her lips the whole time. DAMN HIM. Slowly, tentatively, she picked up the phone, trying to restore some measure of composure to her face, her demeanor, her voice. "Mulder," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion. "Speaking," Fox Mulder replied, in that annoyingly sarcastic tone of voice Dana knew too well. She scrambled to think of something to say...ANYTHING to say to get her mind off her embarrassment, her anger, her utter humiliation. Nothing was coming to mind. "You know, Scully," Mulder said, again with dripping sarcasm, "It's bad telephone protocol to keep silent while someone is waiting on the other end." "Go to hell, Mulder," Dana retorted bitterly, violently pacing the length of her living room. There was silence for several minutes as Dana continued to think of the many ways she could express her complete exasperation and frustration to her damnedly intrusive partner. The emotions were there, but how would one express them without sounding vengeful, resentful? The bastard was speaking again. Damn him. "Scully, are you going to say anything, or are you just going to stand there with the phone in your hand and give me the silent treatment for the next hundred years?" "You deserve more than the silent treatment," Dana hissed at him. "How DARE you call me at home and disturb my bath, violate my privacy, and procure extremely sensitive information out of me, information you were NEVER supposed to know? And not only that, Mulder, but under an assumed name?" Her rapid, enraged breathing filled the silence between them. "You deserve to be arrested, imprisoned for life...tortured, beaten...hell, even castrated so you won't do this to me or anyone else in the future." Mulder's swift intake of breath indicated to Dana that her final remark had hit home. She held her head a little higher from her small victory. "Scully, do you honestly think that I make a regular habit of calling lonely women on Friday nights and asking them to tell me their fantasies?" "I don't know WHAT you get off on, Mulder, and frankly, I don't think I WANT to know," Dana retorted insultingly. "I've seen enough to gather a damn good opinion about what you do in your free time." "Dammit, Scully," Mulder growled into the receiver, "This doesn't have to get personal." "Mulder, this was personal a long time ago." "You're damn right, you hypocrite," Mulder bitingly agreed. Dana's quick gasp was loud enough for Mulder to hear. "I beg your pardon...?!" she hissed into the receiver. Mulder's reply was even more bitingly offensive than his previous comment. "I've been sitting here for the last five minutes," he said, "taking your insults, hearing you badmouth my life, my free time, my character. Well, you tell me something, Miss Dana Scully. If I disturbed, violated, and cajoled you into confession tonight, and if your self-righteous, pious little ego can judge my actions, how do you excuse YOUR actions the other night?" Dana found herself frowning in response to Mulder's question. What was he talking about? "If you're going to accuse me of something, Mulder, you better have a damn good reason. Otherwise this conversation is over." "I'm not finished," Mulder yelled into the receiver. "You'd like to think you're so proper and proprietary, don't you? You make everyone think you're this reserved, unemotional, practical, logical woman with no feelings or emotions whatsoever. The Ice Queen, isn't that what they call you at Headquarters?" "Dammit, Mulder, get to it, or I'm hanging up right now." She had a premonition that Mulder's point was something she definitely did not want to hear. "And everyone believes your little charade, don't they? You created Scully to keep your true nature from the rest of the world, from anyone who might actually get too close to find that you're a real flesh-and-blood woman. Someone has penetrated your defenses, Scully. And you're scared out of your mind." Dana's eyes widened as Mulder's words struck her to her very core. For once, she was speechless. "So how do you defend YOUR actions on Monday night when you called me, Dana Scully?" Mulder growled. Dana took a deep breath before answering him as calmly as she could. "I didn't call you Monday night, Mulder," she said. "Oh, really." The edge in Mulder's voice seemed to slash Dana to the heart. "Perhaps you'd answer to another name, then...Cinnamon." Dana was sure she had just gone into cardiac arrest. Her heart ceased to beat for several seconds. Pain in her chest...blood pooling in her hands and feet... labored breath...slow loss of consciousness.... "So tell me, Cinnamon," Mulder remarked with his biting sarcasm, "was this just a one-time thing, or is this your usual night job when you're not performing autopsies or drafting reports for your superiors?" Ohhhh.....How could he be so damn callous? "Damn you to Hell, Mulder. I'm hanging up." "Why? Another call from some horny man?" "Mulder, I won't take your insults." She couldn't take them at all. Her vulnerable state had already made her feel completely exposed to the man she loved. His insults were driving the sword even deeper into her gut. "Well then, why don't you explain why you called me on Monday night, not as Scully, not as Dana, but as Cinnamon." Mulder's voice was matter-of-fact, businesslike. Slowly she sat on the couch, trying to think of some intelligent response to his request. Something logical, rational, something he could accept as being a perfect reason for her behavior. Unfortunately, Dana knew that none of the events from the night in question had any logical or rational motive behind them. But she had to say something, to defend herself, in the hope of possibly redeeming herself in the eyes of her partner, her friend, her beloved. Redemption was imperative for her to be reconciled to him, to have a chance for the relationship she most wanted...most needed above all others.... "Cinnamon?" Mulder interrupted her thoughts. "I'm waiting." She sighed. "Please don't call me that," she said. "Why not?" he said. "You were obviously comfortable with it a few nights ago." "Mulder, I..." Dana's voice trailed off as she realized her arguments would do nothing to sway Mulder from his intentions. He wanted the truth. Well, he would have the truth. She began again. "Mulder, do you remember any of the events on Monday, besides that night?" Silence on the other end. "Mulder?" "Yes," he said suddenly, almost hastily. "Yes, I remember." "Do you recall anything different about the events during the day?" she wanted to know. Yes, she'd heard him say it...he'd noticed her change in attire. He'd revealed his desire for her over the phone, but she needed to hear him say it. To her, not Cinnamon. "Scully, we've been through this---" "Not this way, Mulder. Not as ourselves. Tell me, Mulder. Tell me what you thought about me, and I'll do the same." She heard Mulder mutter something unintelligible into the phone, then she heard him sigh. A very long sigh. "When you walked into the office that morning," Mulder began, "wearing that suit...I, uh, I nearly fell out of my chair onto the floor." She heard his throat constrict as he forced the last few words out of his larynx. "Why, Mulder? What was so shocking about my attire that day?" She knew...she needed to hear it from him. she pleaded silently over the phone. "Scully...damn, Scully, you looked...well, you..." Mulder was fumbling for a coherent sentence. "I mean, I'd never seen so---so much of you before." One auburn eyebrow arched in response. "No, that didn't come out right, Scully. I'm sorry. I mean, you were just...you were just...so beautiful... and so damn sexy in that suit...in a way I'd never seen you before...and I'm a man, Scully, I couldn't help but notice...." A slight smile curved the corners of Dana's lips. Yes. He'd noticed, and he'd admitted it to her. They were halfway there. "I...I mean, I wanted to notice...I wanted to keep anyone else from noticing. I just wanted to notice you... all day." Mulder's voice suddenly lowered to a deeper, more sexual timbre. Mulder's words sent Dana's entire body into pleasurable pins and needles. "I didn't know why you'd dressed like that," he said. "I figured you had something after work, or some reasonable excuse, but I was glad you'd dressed that way, regardless of the reason. Damn, you looked so good...." His voice became a husky murmur. Dana suddenly found her pulse again. Rapidly increasing to clinically dangerous levels. She exhaled a pent-up breath as she heard Mulder's last few words over and over in her head. Mulder continued again. "Not only was I treated to a new suit, but a new display of what was underneath. Damn, Scully," he said as his voice trailed to nothing but a whisper, "when you leaned over my desk, I had to fight the urge to throw you on the desk and take you right there without asking. And it took superhuman strength to keep my hands to myself." Dana found herself suddenly breathing heavily...panting like some female animal in heat. She had to hold the phone away from her mouth to keep Mulder from hearing her display of desire. "Five years of sexual frustration, Scully, and then you do this to me." He moaned. "A man can only take so much." She sighed, closing her eyes. He'd wanted her. He'd wanted her more than she could've ever imagined. And he'd finally admitted it to her. "I guess I was hoping that maybe you'd changed your mind," he continued, "that maybe you were open to the possibility of... of..." "Of us?" Dana was barely able to squeak the words out of her mouth. "Of us," Mulder repeated in affirmation. A sigh escaped Dana's lips. "Mulder..." she murmured into the phone. "And I had to fight so hard to keep it in, everything that I'd wanted to say to you, everything I'd wanted to do to you, for five fucking years, Dana, all because I was afraid you'd turn me away. So I kept it all in. I don't know how, but I did." Dana sighed again into the phone. "I don't know how you were able to hide it so well," she said. "I never even knew you were feeling this way." Mulder laughed drily. "Does the FBI give out awards at the annual banquet for Most Emotionally and Sexually Repressed Special Agent?" Dana could not repress her surfacing giggle. "You know, I should submit that one," he said. "I know of at least one candidate, if I can nominate myself." Dana giggled again. "You might have some competition," she said. "I'd feel a moral responsibility to nominate myself as well." This time it was Mulder's turn to laugh. "Tough call," he said. "It'd be a difficult decision." "Yeah." Dana agreed with him. Suddenly she had an idea...a fantastic idea. "Well," she murmured huskily, "we could always settle the matter ourselves." She crossed her fingers in the hope that Mulder would take the bait. "I'm game if you're game," he replied, his voice humming with animal intent. Mulder never saw the victory leap Dana made from the couch to the middle of her living room floor. "I dunno," she said flirtatiously, sashaying about the room, "I'm not sure if you're...*up* to my level of playing." "I'm a fast learner," Mulder murmured into the phone, his voice sending another shower of chills down Dana's spine. "But first..." he said suddenly, catching her off guard, "you tell me why you called me Monday night as Cinnamon." Oh. Dana froze for a second. She hadn't told Mulder her reasons for calling. He wouldn't be in her arms until she told him why. But somehow, after this little flirtation, suddenly Dana wasn't so scared to tell him after all. He might actually get a kick out of it. "All right, Mulder," she said. "I hope you're prepared." "I'm always prepared," Mulder replied, with a strong hint of innuendo. Dana grinned impishly. "Anyway," she began, "I called you as Cinnamon because of what happened at work, actually. I didn't have plans for anything after work, and I didn't dress like that for the hell of it. To be honest, Mulder, I was tired of playing these little games with you and I wanted to be as bold and as brazen as I felt I could be. So I went out, bought that suit, and braved the looks, the stares, and the gossip, to tempt you into finally doing something about that incredible tension between us." "You...you dressed like that for me?" Mulder seemed amazed at the prospect. "Only for you, Mulder. I spent four hundred dollars on a suit for you, to show you how much I wanted you. If you had taken me on your desk without asking, I wouldn't have minded." She smiled again. "Damn...." Mulder's voice was a whisper. "Can we hit rewind on the calendar?" Dana giggled again. "I was doing all I could to get you out of that chair and into my arms, Mulder. It was the only way I knew how, without putting my heart on the line." Mulder said nothing for several seconds. Apparently he was lost in thought. "And so that's why you called me that night," he concluded. "To find out if I really did want you, if I really had reacted to your little plan that day." Dana closed her eyes, nodding, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Yes," she said. "And...to grant myself the previously, as-of-yet unknown luxury of hearing a very desirable Mr. Fox Mulder in sexual pursuit." "Ahhhh...." Mulder's voice indicated that he was enlightened and educated by her admission. "Well now that you put it that way..." "What way?" she wanted to know. "That way," he said. "Now that I know your reasons, now that I know you weren't acting out of some cruel joke or desire to humiliate me, I guess we can forgive each other our petty grievances." "Well...." she said. "Almost." "What do you mean?" he wanted to know. A wide grin crept across Dana's classic features. "I want to know why you, Fox Mulder, conspired with licentious intent to telephone a certain Dana Scully tonight, under an assumed name of Mandrake." He laughed. "Well, I figured, what's good for the goose is certainly good for the gander." Again, Dana could not prevent the loud giggle from surfacing. "I give as good as I get," he stated flatly. "And paybacks are a bitch, aren't they?" She nodded. "Most definitely." Suddenly she thought of something...something he hadn't told her. "Mulder, I have another question." "Shoot." "How...how did you find out I was Cinnamon?" she asked him. "I used a different voice; I even used a different sort of vocabulary. How did you find out?" Mulder laughed incredibly loud, so loudly that Dana had to hold the phone away from her ear. "Scully, all that training at Quantico, all the years you've been in the field, and you can't even guess?" "Well..." Dana frowned. "No." "Easy," he said. "I did what any intelligent federal agent would do." "And what was that?" Mulder chuckled again. "I had the Bureau trace your call." Dana blushed a vivid red as she fought to contain a very unladylike sniggle. "So do you think you learned your lesson, little girl?" Mulder said to her. "Oh, I definitely learned my lesson, sir," she replied ingenuously. "Will you do it again?" he wanted to know. "Oh yes," she said. "You can count on my being an obsessive repeat offender." "Good," he said hopefully. "I look forward to it." Dana's smile was enormous in response to Mulder's statement. "But," he said, "if I am to grant you pardon for every offense, you must reserve these crimes exclusively for me." Dana nodded again. "I wouldn't dream of it otherwise, sir." Mulder chuckled. "But you have to promise me something," she said. "No more 900 numbers. Those things can get you into trouble." She grinned again. "Damned if I don't know," Mulder remarked. Judging by his comment, Dana supposed he did understand. "But," Mulder interjected, "I can still keep my video collection, right?" "You're incorrigible, Mulder." "I know, but you like that in me." "I suppose." Dana's eyes were bright with immeasurable happiness. "Mulder, you can keep your videos if you like, but you should know something first." "What's that?" "Between work and my attentions, you won't have much time to watch them anyway." "I'm counting on it," he said, his voice again tinged with the promise of sensual delight. And then silence for seconds. For moments. For what seemed like eternities. After a few more uncomfortable seconds, Dana attempted to break the ice. "So...." "So...." "So what do we do now?" "Well," Mulder said, "it's 10:13 on a Friday night, and everyone in the world is out pursuing their selfish pleasures. Everyone except us, that is." "Mhm," Dana agreed, running a hand through her nearly-dry auburn locks. "And what do you suppose we do about it?" She could almost see the grin on Mulder's face as he replied to her question. "I say we stay in and pursue our own selfish pleasures." Dana inhaled a sharp breath. "Oh...." she whispered. "But first..." he said. "But first we play a game." "A game?" What was he getting at? He had just made an incredibly overt sexual proposition to her, one she was ready to accept in a second's notice, and all of a sudden he wanted to play a game? What was wrong with him? "Yeah," Mulder grunted in response. "Go to your window and look up at the sky." "Why?" she said. "You'll find out," he said. "Just do it." "Okay, Mulder," she sighed resignedly, walking over to the window. "Nah-ah." Mulder chided her as if she were a delinquent child. "Spooky didn't say." "What!?" Dana exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Mulder, what are you trying to pull here?" "I'm not trying to pull anything, Scully, I just want to play a game." "Mulder, we're not in kindergarten," she muttered. "And I don't know about you, but right now I am far from having childish thoughts about you." "Same here," Mulder said, "which is all the more reason to play this game." "What game?!?" a frustrated Dana yelled into the phone. Her question was met with a sinister chuckle. A very sinister chuckle. And then a very sensual reply. "Spooky Says, Dana. Spooky Says."