TITLE:		O IS FOR OBFUSCATING
AUTHOR:		donnilee@snet.net
RATING:		NC-17 (No one under 17)
CATEGORY:	MSR/ANGST
POSTING:	Please request permission first and be sure my e-mail 
		address are on it.  Thank you.
SUMMARY:	Scully gets miffed over an anonymous Valentine gift and 
		accidentally hurts her partner.  Can she make it all better?
SPOILERS:	Little ones for Never Again, Milagro, Jersey Devil, Orison, 
		All Things.  Nothing specific, just some names of previous characters.
DISCLAIMER:	Nope.  Not mine.  Used shamelessly and without remorse.  
		They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting and 
		God knows who else, but not me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Another pure smut biscuit for your reading pleasure.    
NEW LEXICON WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY OF THE ENGLISH 
LANGUAGE
Ob-fus-cate (ubfeskeit, ubf^skeit) pres. part.
O-fus-cat-ing - past and past part. Ob-fus-cat-ed v.t. (rhet.) to confuse or 
bewilder || (rhet.) to obscure, make hard to understand
Ob-fus-ca-tion - n. [fr. L. obfuscare (obfuscatus), to darken]

PART 1 (PG-13)
HOOVER BUILDING
BASEMENT OFFICE
WEDNESDAY 
FEBRUARY 14, 2001
4:00 PM

"Mulder, why did you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Buy me a present."

"I did?"

"Don't get smart with me!"

"You'd rather I be dumb with you, Scully?"

"Yes!  No!  Damn it, why do you always do that to me?"

"Do what?"

"Confuse me."

"How do I confuse you, partner?  Besides the obvious, I mean."

"You twist my words, your words, I don't know."

"I don't mean to."

"Bull!"

"What's really the problem, Scully?"

She sighed loudly.  "I came back from lunch and someone left red roses 
and a box of chocolates in a heart shaped box here on my desk."

"And the problem is?"

"They didn't sign the card."

"What does it say?"  Mulder sauntered over to her and peered over her 
shoulder.  She held the little card in her hand.

It read:  "Red roses for the most beautiful redhead in the world.  - Your 
secret admirer."

He chuckled.  "That's sweet, I think."

"You would."  She sounded sullen even to her own ears.

"What's wrong with that?"  He almost sounded offended.

"Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to a woman to know someone 
is admiring her and not know who it is?"

"No, I guess I never thought of that," he said as he retreated to his side of 
the office, plunking down in his chair.

"Of course you didn't.  You're like every other male in the world.  You 
think this shit is cute.  That women like to be teased."

"They don't?"

"No!"

"Could have fooled me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Most women like to be teased, they like to anticipate.  Most women like 
surprises.  They like to think that a man cares for them enough to go 
through the trouble to orchestrate a surprise."

"Oh they do, do they?  You've got this all figured out.  And you are basing 
this on what?  Your vast experience with the opposite sex?"

He turned to her casually and the lazy smile that spread across his face 
slammed into her and her heart began racing.  Damn him, she thought.  
How does he effect me like this?

"Well, it's been my experience that what people like in the bedroom spills 
over into other areas of their life," he said carefully, his tone neutral.  The 
smile, though was still plastered on his face.

She blushed furiously.  "Why does everything have to do with sex?"

He looked at the ceiling and then back at her.  The smile was gone.  
"Because it does.  It's a basic human urge, a basic need.  Suppressing 
any basic human need is dangerous.  To sublimate nature is very 
unhealthy.  It throws everything off balance.  The frustration and stress 
that results will manifest itself somewhere."

"What are you getting at?"  She was being drawn into his logical 
explanation despite her irritation.  He knew she loved a good debate, 
especially when logic or science was involved.

"I'm saying that no one is immune, not even you."

"Not even me!  What's that supposed to mean?"  Her ire had spiked up 
again.  She took a couple deep breaths to calm herself down.

"I'm saying that when 'people' get sexually frustrated, the stress builds up 
and manifests itself."

"Like how?" she asked.  She knew she shouldn't be asking.  She should 
end this stupid conversation right now.  But she wanted to know his take 
on this subject, despite the inner warning bell that was going off.  She 
had always thought of her partner as an extremely sensual, sexual 
creature.  But she rarely got a glimpse of it other than when he was 
slinging innuendo.

"Sometimes it's serious, people snap and kill someone."

"Oh, please, that's extreme."

"Yes, it is.  But I haven't met a serial killer yet that wasn't sexually 
repressed and unhealthy sexually in some way."

"I guess you have a point, but that's not the norm, Mulder.  I mean, 
thousands of people go celibate all the time for stretches or periods of 
time.  In fact, Catholic priests remain celibate their entire lives."

"Mmm, and look how grouchy they are.  And priestly celibacy doesn't 
appear to have a one hundred percent success rate either these days!"

"Mulder!"

"That's one of the reasons I'm against fundamentalist religion, particularly 
Catholicism.  It requires its leaders to suppress nature in favor of the 
dogma perpetuated by that religion.  It requires them to adhere to a set of 
standards that would make Mother Theresa wince.  No one is that pure."

"Just because you aren't, doesn't mean that other people can't be."

"No, true.  And you're right.  Some people can remain celibate, but I think 
they are mostly miserable.  And no, most people don't kill someone out of 
sexual frustration.  But they close themselves off.  They retreat into a 
shell of fear and low self-esteem."

Why did she get the feeling he was not talking about people in general?  
Why did it feel as though he were talking about her?  And why did his 
observation make her stomach feel as if it were filled with lead?

"So, other than killing people and being miserable, how else does this 
wonderful condition manifest itself?"

"For most people, it merely results in a short temper, a skewed view of 
the world.  Someone tries to do something nice for them and they are so 
miserable, they can't even enjoy the good stuff when it does come along.  
In others, it manifests itself in disease of the body.  There have been 
studies, my little scientist that link physical illness with mental deprivation 
and stress.  There's even a new branch of psychology called Medical 
Psychiatry that focuses on the bodies reaction to mental conditions and 
physical conditions on mental health."

She was silent.  "O.K., I concur.  I know about the effects of stress on the 
body.  I think that stress exacerbates any condition you may have, but I 
don't think it causes it."

"No?  What about the condition of unhappiness?"

"That's not a mental illness."

"No, but it's a emotional condition."

"Caused by stress."  Her skepticism flew through those three words with 
venom.

He looked at her again, regarding her strangely, his head tipped to one 
side.  "All I'm saying, Scully, is that the happier a person is, the less stress 
they have and that has to be good for all areas of their life.  And sex 
makes people happy.  If they are regularly releasing physical and 
emotional tension through sexual activity, then they are going to be less 
susceptible to stress from the outside world."

"I don't know if I want to argue about this anymore."

"Of course you don't, because you know I'm right."

"I do NOT know that you are right!  I am perfectly fine.  I am NOT sexually 
frustrated!  And I'm perfectly happy the way I am!  Just because I'm 
irritated that my secret admirer doesn't have the balls to sign his name to 
the card, doesn't mean that I'm sexually repressed!"

His lips curled up into an annoyingly patronizing smile.  "First, Scully, I 
said frustrated, not repressed.  Second, who said I was talking about 
you?"

She deflated and whirled away from him, facing the wall.  Why did she 
lose it just now?  That was stupid.  She'd just given away the whole 
enchilada.  She'd assumed he was talking about her, and whether she 
admitted it or not, she'd just confirmed it to him that she saw a parallel 
between his theory and her own situation.

She didn't hear him get up and move and therefore she jumped about a 
foot when his hands came to rest suddenly on her shoulders.

She squealed and spun around, losing her balance, nearly toppling off 
her high heels.  His quick reflexes saved her, his arms banding around 
her waist and jerking her upright, pulling her against his body.  A stunned 
silence followed where they both froze, her body molded up against his.  
He was the first to recover, dropping his arms and stepping away.  "Sorry, 
Scully, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Don't sneak up on my like that!  Jesus, Mulder!"  She was shaking inside, 
not sure what had just happened except that her body was in flux.  It felt 
cold without the heat of his body and she shivered.

He cleared his throat.  "I was just going to apologize for upsetting you.  
That's not what I meant to do.  I got on a roll and didn't realize I was 
upsetting you."

"No, it's all right.  I shouldn't have barked at you."  She smoothed her 
hands down over her skirt, her palms sweaty.  Why was she nervous?

"I deserved it.  I don't know why I push things like that."  He sighed and 
hitched one hip up to half sit on the edge of her table, one long leg 
dangling off the end.

"Let's just start this day over, O.K.?"  She still wouldn't look at him.

"Scully."  His voice was low and soft.

She lifted her head to look at him.  "I wasn't talking about you.  I was 
talking about me."  This was said softly as well, an admission she never 
would have thought to hear from him.

"Mulder, you may be a lot of things, but sexually repressed is NOT one of 
them."

He chuckled.  "Thanks.  But like I said, I didn't say repressed other than in 
reference to priests.  I said frustrated."

She held his gaze.  "Why are you telling me this?" 

He shrugged.  "Because I don't want you to think that I was picking on 
you."

"I know you weren't."

"Do you?"

"Yes.  And I'm sorry you're ... frustrated."

He laughed now.  "So am I, Scully.  So am I."  He went to stand up and 
she surprised him with another question.

"Why?"

He looked at her quizzically.  "Why what?"

"Why are you frustrated?  You could have any woman you wanted."

"That's not true."

"Sure it is.  Any secretary or administrative assistant in this place would 
jump at the chance to go out with you.  Half the women in the D.C.P.D. 
have asked me if you are single."

He smiled a sad, little smile.  It wasn't a look she saw on him often.  "You 
really don't get it, do you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm telling you, believe me, I can't have any woman I want, Scully."

"And I'm telling you that you can."

The look he gave her then pierced right through her.  He said nothing for 
several long moments.  Then finally, he said, "Well, if you're right about 
the secretarial pool, then I guess I could have a lot of women ... EXCEPT 
... the one I want."

Her eyes went wide as he continued to stare at her.  He was completely 
serious now, almost frighteningly so.  Why was he staring at her like that?

He huffed a little to himself and turned away in the wake of her silence.  
She had no idea how to respond to that.  Was he talking about her?  Did 
he want her?  No!  That was ridiculous!  She shook her head to clear it of 
that stupid thought.  He had picked up his suit coat and flung it onto his 
shoulders, stabbing his arms into it as if he were angry.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to pry, 
Mulder."  She wanted to ask him who it was that he wanted but couldn't 
have, but she was afraid of the answer.  

She didn't want it to be her.  Did she?  What if it was her? What if it 
wasn't? What did she want?  He picked up his cell phone, putting it in his 
pocket.  Where was he going?

He turned and walked to the coat rack, putting his trench coat on.  His 
hand was on the door knob when he stopped, breathing through his nose 
for several moments as if trying to think of something to say.  She 
watched him warily.  He said, "No, I'm not angry with you, Scully.  I'm 
frustrated, like I said."

Why she blurted out her next question, she really didn't know, but she 
couldn't seem to stop herself.  "Because you can't have the woman you 
want?"

He took a deep breath.  "Yes, exactly."

He still wasn't looking at her, but seemed reluctant to leave.  "I know I'm 
going to regret this question."  She paused and he glanced at her but then 
back at the floor.  His hand remained on the doorknob.

"Ask," he said.  He thought to himself.  Ask me.  Don't ask me.  Ask me.  
Don't ask me.  Shit!

"I didn't know there was anyone you were interested in ... that way."

He chuckled again.  "No, I don't imagine you did."

She felt a flash of anger but suppressed it.  Was he implying that she was 
blind?  "We don't usually talk about stuff like this."

He turned and leaned his back against the door, looking at her out of the 
corner of her eye.  "No, I guess we don't.  I didn't mean that last 
statement the way it sounded."

He was obviously upset and she wasn't sure if she should just let him go.  
Something told her they were on very dangerous ground here.  Should 
she brush this off and let him go.  Did she really want to know the answer 
to her question?  What if she wasn't the one he wanted?  How would that 
make her feel?  The wave of nausea that assaulted her at that thought 
almost made her stagger.  Instead she grabbed the edge of the table in a 
death grip.  

He glanced at her hand and back up to her face, noting the tension rolling 
off her in waves.

"Look, Scully, I'm going to go home.  I can't concentrate anymore today."  
He pushed off the wall and turned to the door again.  "I'll see you 
tomorrow, O.K.?"

He opened the door.  "Mulder, wait!"  Why was she seized with panic at 
the thought of him leaving her just now.  Suddenly leaving this 
conversation unfinished was not an option.  Who knows how long it would 
be before they got around to talking like this again.  It could be months, or 
even years.

He stopped and turned to her.  "What?  I'm tired, Scully.  I'm just going to 
go."

"Who?"  Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head to the side, but then blinked in slow motion, returning to 
make eye contact.  "Who?" he asked softly.

"Who is it ... that you want ... but can't have?"  The 64 million dollar 
question.

He swallowed convulsively and then said.  "I didn't mean to upset you, 
Scully.  I thought ... I thought that it would be fun to ... "  He paused, 
dropping his head, swallowed again.  Then looked up again.  "The candy 
and the flowers are from ... me.  Happy Valentine's Day, Scully."

He whirled and existed the door, nearly slamming it behind him.  He 
hadn't answered her question.  Or had he?  Suddenly oxygen was at a 
premium in the room.  He was her secret admirer?  No, he didn't mean 
that for real.  He was just trying to be cute.  

'I thought that it would be fun to', 'Who is it ... that you want ... but can't 
have?' 'The candy and the flowers are from ... me.  Happy Valentine's 
Day, Scully.'  Their words kept tumbling around in her head with no rhyme 
or reason.

He'd said he couldn't have the woman he WANTED.  When she told him 
she didn't know he had a romantic interest, he'd said that he didn't 
imagine she would know.  What did that mean?  He'd kept it from her 
purposely or was he insinuating that she was blind to the obvious?

She picked up the card again and read it.  "Red roses for the most 
beautiful redhead in the world.  - Your secret admirer."  He thought she 
was beautiful?  Or was he just trying to make her feel good because he 
knew she was alone on Valentine's Day?

In any event, he'd tried to do something nice for her and she'd crapped all 
over it with her juvenile reaction.  Guilt flowed like a wave through her 
body and she felt tears sting the back of her eyes.  "Oh, Mulder.  Why do 
always have to be so good at ... at ...obfuscating!  Why can't you just 
give me a straight answer!

A tiny voice in the back of her head said, 'Because you haven't ever 
made him feel that he can come to you directly, not with his feelings.'  
Damn it!  Shut up!  She was railing against the little voice that said this 
entire situation was her fault.  He wasn't exactly Mr. Precise.   For God 
Sake, the man was the King of the Oxymoron.  On the one hand his 
theories were wild and preposterous.  On the other hand, his intuitive 
leaps of logic often turned out to be more accurate than she would have 
liked to admit.

Fox Mulder himself was an oxymoron.  He was an odd combination of 
traits that shouldn't add up to anything that made sense.  But somehow, 
despite his propensity for wild reasoning, belief in the unseen and 
unknown, he was one of the strongest and most stable people that she 
knew.  She almost laughed at that thought.  Stable?  Mulder?  Same 
sentence?  

Her mirth died instantly.  But it was true.  Most people thought he was 
nuts.  But she knew better.  Appearances could be deceiving.  He might 
be weird, but if you spent time with him, you soon found out that there 
was definitely a method to his madness.  A method that worked 90% of 
the time.

She sighed.  Now what?  Should she go over there and apologize?  
Should she go home and call him?  She could picture him all sprawled 
out on his leather couch, still in his work clothes, staring at the ceiling.  He 
would be feeling guilty that he had upset her.  He was so prone to self-
flagellation that it drove her nuts.  But at the same time, it was one of the 
endearing qualities about him.  He was compassionate.  He was caring.  
And he was always willing to take the blame.  Unfortunately, he often took 
the blame for things that were not his fault.

She'd hurt his feelings.  She knew that.  She was surprised at how much 
that upset her.  He was so damn sensitive!  Hello pot, this is the kettle!  
What was she if not oversensitive?  Her reaction to the gift was totally 
insane.  It made no sense.  Why had she reacted that way?

She knew that trying to analyze emotions was a futile effort most of the 
time.  Emotions could not be quantified.  They just were.  That's why she 
pushed them beneath the surface so much.  They did not fit into her world 
of rigid definitions and scientific explanations.  Maybe she was repressed.  
Maybe?  She realized suddenly that she was repressed.  She'd been 
suppressing and denying her emotions for so long, she couldn't even look 
at them any more.  It was too frightening.

What the hell was she afraid of?  Failure?  Ending up alone?  Making 
wrong decisions?  Getting hurt?

All of the above.  But wasn't the denial slowly eating away at her insides 
anyway?  Wasn't the stress and repression manifesting itself in a short 
fuse of a temper?  She was often irritable and melancholy.  And not just 
around the time of her period.  She had been blaming her semi-
depression and mood swings on PMS for too long. It was time to take a 
good hard look into Dana Scully's heart and find out what was in there.  

She really didn't have a clue.  She'd been running from her emotions for 
so long, she didn't even know where to start.  She realized also that she 
didn't even know who she was anymore, or what she believed in.  That 
was frightening as well.  She should be a self-assured, successful woman 
with a committed relationship by this time in her life.  Instead, what did 
she have?

Well, she had a successful career, but was sort of an outcast because 
she'd tossed her hat into the ring with "Spooky" Mulder.  She loved her 
work.  But she went home alone every night.  She went to bed alone 
every night.  She ate dinner alone every night.  She didn't even spend 
much time with her family anymore because they didn't understand her or 
the life that she had chosen.

Alone.  Alone. Alone.  And she'd be lying if she said that wasn't 
frustrating.  And lonely.

Very lonely.  She closed her eyes, thinking of the many nights she'd laid 
in bed and touched herself, bringing herself to an empty release wishing it 
was her partner's hands on her breasts.  Release of tension indeed.  She 
knew he masturbated regularly.  Why else would he have all those videos 
that weren't his?

And it did release physical tension and allow her to sleep when she broke 
down and did it.  But let's face it, a vibrator and fingers were no substitute 
for the real thing.  It had been nearly seven years since she'd been in a 
relationship.  She'd dated a few times.  She'd even had a couple of one 
night stands in her day.  Mulder would choke if he knew that.  But once 
she began working with him, she hadn't been with anybody.  She'd tried.  
Oh yes, she'd tried.

Ed Jerse was a perfect example of that.  Oh, and look how well that 
turned out!  Bottom line, and she had denied it then and denied it forever 
after ... he wasn't Mulder, and in the end, she couldn't do it.  She'd been 
relieved when he'd offered to sleep on the couch.

Without even realizing it, she compared every man she met with her 
partner.  She was seeing that now.  Every time someone showed interest 
in her, she immediately ticked off a list of characteristics that they needed 
to have in order to be suitable.  They needed to be smart, compassionate, 
interesting, have a sense of humor, be good looking.  She held them up 
to an impossible standard, ensuring that they would fail.  Then she could 
walk away with a clear conscience, thinking that they simply weren't for 
her and move on from there, never having to face the real reason she 
found being with them unappealing. 

They weren't Mulder.  Shit!

She packed up her laptop and briefcase and put on her coat.  Sighing, 
she turned out the light and locked up.  She needed to go home and do 
some more thinking.  Another talk with her partner was definitely in order, 
but she needed to be more prepared next time.  She needed to know her 
own heart and mind.  And right now, nothing was clear.  Everything was 
confusing and bewildering.  

She felt better having decided to take an honest look at herself, but she 
was a long way from having it all figured out.


PART 2 (PG-13) 
FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT
WEDNESDAY 
FEBRUARY 14, 2001
5:00 PM

'Damn it!' he thought.  Why couldn't he figure her out?  Seven years and 
he still had no clue what went on inside that woman's head.  It was 
ridiculous.  She'd given him enough clues.  He was a profiler.  He ought 
to be able to figure this out.  Shouldn't he?

'Damn it!'  A silent tear escaped his eye and he let it run down his face.  
He dropped some food into the fish tank, trying to remember when the 
last time he'd fed them was.  He'd give them some more later in case it 
had been a couple of days.

He flopped back on the couch, turning to watch the fish.  They soothed 
him sometimes, just to watch them swim lazily with no particular 
destination.  That would be nice, he thought.

He'd bought the candy yesterday, her favorites, chocolate covered 
cherries.  He'd run out at lunch today to buy the roses.  He'd asked the 
salesperson to write the note since he knew she would recognize his 
handwriting.

He'd wanted to give her something, just a frivolous gift for Valentine's 
Day.  He didn't have a valentine and neither did she.  Their work pretty 
much put the kibosh on any sort of long lasting relationship with anyone 
outside of work.

He hadn't said so to Scully, but he had tried to date now and then.  He'd 
asked out a couple of the secretaries over the years.  Only when the 
loneliness got to be too much would he take one of them out to dinner, 
just for the company.  He'd always hoped someone would spark his 
interest, help him to get over his partner.

But he didn't want someone to go out with him because they liked the 
way he looked.  He wanted them to go out with him because they liked 
him, the real him.  He wanted them to understand him and accept him as 
he was, rather than trying to change him.  And there was the rub.  No one 
understood him.  No one ever had.

Until Scully.  She understood him with an uncanny ability that no one else 
had ever come close to displaying.  She didn't agree with him often, but 
she understood what motivated him.  She respected it instead of ridiculing 
it.  She managed to be supportive without always having to agree.  That 
was a talent few people could boast.  So, get over Dana Scully? 

It was a moot point.  There was no getting over his partner.  She was 
under his skin and firmly entrenched in his heart.  And he had no idea 
who she was!  Talk about frustrating.  Nothing was ever as it seemed.  
Nobody knew that better than he did.  But Scully was an enigma he 
simply couldn't fathom.  

He'd wanted to make her smile.  Instead, he'd made her angry.  What the 
hell?  Who would have thought that simple flowers and candy from an 
anonymous admirer would set her off like that?  Their conversation about 
sexual frustration had been interesting.  She had tried to put up token 
arguments, but he knew that she could see his logic.  She knew about the 
connection between the physical and the mental.  He knew she wouldn't 
be able to argue with that.  That was why he'd brought it up in the first 
place.

She was frustrated.  She was lonely.  He knew it.  He knew it because so 
was he and he knew all the signs and symptoms.  He had them all ... and 
so did she.  So why was she so resistant to having a little fun?  Couldn't 
she just appreciate the gifts?  Couldn't she just take a compliment?  He'd 
said she was beautiful in the note.  It was something he'd wanted to say 
to her for a long time.  But he was afraid to voice it out loud.  He was 
afraid of the consequences.  He never wanted to make her uncomfortable 
around him.

If she knew how attracted he was to her, he was afraid she wouldn't want 
to work with him anymore.  At least, that had been the rationale early on.  
He had also recognized her need to be accepted, to be respected and 
considered as competent as her male counterparts.  He'd decided early 
on that he would treat her that way until she gave him a reason not to.  As 
it turns out, she'd never given him any reason to believe that she was 
anything other than totally capable and competent.  She was more stable 
and competent than him in many ways.  Not that that was saying much.  
He wasn't on the beam an awful lot these days.

Something was shifting inside of him.  He knew that his secrets would find 
a way out eventually.  They always did.  

Secret number one.  He'd lusted after his  partner nearly since the day he 
met her.  Secret number two.  She was the only woman in the world that 
understood him and that he had never been able to figure out.  Secret 
number three.  He had fallen in love with his partner years ago.  Secret 
number four.  He was too scared to tell her.  Secret number five.  He saw 
her in his mind's eye every single time he'd touched himself for the last 
four years.

What would she do if she knew?  The thought terrified him.  He needed 
her now.  It was way beyond wanting her to stay, wanting her to be his 
friend.  He needed her to stay.  He needed her to be his friend.  Hence 
the conundrum.  What to do?

His psychological training told him that he needed to voice his feelings to 
her.  It told him that it was unhealthy to hide these things and twist them 
into masturbatory fantasies that could easily transform into an obsession.  
But his knowledge of her and his needs told him that he would destroy the 
one thing in the world that meant anything to him anymore if he were to 
open his mouth and just spill his guts to her.

So he regularly misled her, covered his hurt with humor and his frustration 
with intellect.  And she was no better.  She hid behind a wall of logic and 
science that didn't allow her to see the world as it really was.  That was 
an oxymoron.  In one way, her science told her exactly the way the world 
was.  It was a more accurate representation of reality than he could ever 
present.  But that concerned the physical world.  On the other hand, her 
science blinded her to the ethereal aspects of life.  It closed her off from 
the indefinable emotions that brought the greatest joy.  Love, lust, 
freedom and expression of physical desire ... and real happiness.  Why 
did everything have to have a good and bad side.  Couldn't anything in 
life just be easy, simple and always good no matter what?

Apparently not.  Nothing about Scully was easy and it never would be.  
He'd screwed up today.  He should have just given her a card and wished 
her a Happy Valentine's Day.  Maybe he should have just asked her out 
to dinner.  He could have gotten her to go, claiming that it would just be 
two friends having dinner together who had nothing else to do on 
Valentine's Day.  She would have gone under those criteria.  

But that was the thing.  He was tired of always having to have criteria.  He 
was tired of always needing an excuse to spend time with her.  They were 
friends.  He shouldn't need an excuse.  But he felt like he did.  He was 
tired of always having to figure out what presentation of an idea would 
garner the most positive response and get him what he wanted. He was 
tired of trying to hard to preserve something that should have been easy.  
Friendship.  Maintaining one shouldn't be such a chore.  Should it?  

Then again, the sages of the ages have always said that nothing 
worthwhile was free and it was never easy.  If it was, we wouldn't 
appreciate it when we got it.  Well, he'd certainly put some work into this 
relationship.  And he would definitely appreciate it if he ever got his 
heart's desire.  He already did appreciate the relationship.  But he pined 
for more.  And he was tired of it.

Was it worth it?  Was it worth laying in the limbo state for another ... God 
knows how many years?  Was it worth it to spend the rest of his life 
wanting something he could never have?  His frustration was going to kill 
any goodness left in him eventually.  It was going to eat him from the 
inside out and leave him nothing but an empty husk.

He sighed.  But did he have the courage to lay it all on the line?  What if 
she left?  He supposed he could just kill himself if she did.  He shook his 
head, knowing this was a very bad line of thinking.  He hadn't 
contemplated suicide in years.  It was frightening that this little thought 
had even skittered across his mind, even for a moment.  He was in bad 
shape.

He knew all the signs.  His memory was replaying every word, every 
facial expression from their conversation.  He was remembering every 
touch, every hug and every moment in their seven year partnership that 
she had allowed herself to be vulnerable.  Donnie Phaster, Jack Willis, 
Phillip Padget, Ed Jerse, Lester Boggs and finally Daniel Waterson.  
Every single time there had been a man involved.  A bad man.  And she 
had turned to him for comfort and support, or at least she had allowed it 
then. 

Why?  Because he was a good man?  That was a laugh.  He was a lot of 
things, but a good man was not something that he thought of himself as.  
Then why did she turn to him?  Simply because he was available and 
offered?  He didn't think so.  It was deeper than that.  She had wanted his 
comfort those times even if she had been loath to ask for it.  

In spite of everything, she trusted him not to hurt her or riducule her 
vulnerability, yet she wouldn't ask him for help. She'd pushed him away 
far more times than she had let him in.

The ache in his chest was becoming unbearable.  It grew in strength and 
size every day, every night that he spent sitting or laying here on this 
lonely couch, missing her.  As soon as he left her presence, the ache 
would start.  The anxiousness to see her again.  He would tick off the 
minutes and hours until he could see her again and reassure himself that 
she was still there and whole and still with him.  The ache only went away 
when she was with him.  Sometimes he couldn't 
even make it through the night anymore. 

He would fight the urge with everything he had and still, sometimes, he 
would end up picking up the phone.  He would end up needing to hear 
her voice, that low, sexy alto before he could fall into the arms of 
Morpheus.  And she put up with that.  He knew that it annoyed her to get 
one of his phone calls at 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning.  But she never 
made more than a token complaint.  What is it, Mulder?  She would 
sound exasperated, but not angry.  She seemed to sense his need 
without him having to voice it.  And he never had.  And she had 
graciously never mentioned his neediness or held it against him or thrown 
it in his face.

He loved her for it.  He loved her for that and so much more.  He sat 
forward, putting his head in his hands and letting the tears come, he 
rocked himself.  The tears were followed by gasps and heavy breathing.  
The breathing turned into sobs.  His shoulders shook with the force of his 
sobs, his sadness no longer able to be contained.  He sucked in noisy 
breaths between sobs.  A low keening sound of anguish rose from the 
back of his throat and he let it come, knowing that he would implode if he 
didn't let it out. 

"Aaaaaahhhhhh, Hhhhhhaaaaaa, Ssscccuuulllyyyy! Aaaaaahhhhhh!  Oh 
Ggggggoooooodddddd, I nnneeeddd yyyooouuu!"

He choked on the next sob, his breath not able to sustain both his sob 
and his wail of need.  A frantic knock sounded on his door, snapping him 
out of his self-induced depression.

Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap.

He wiped his hand over his eyes, drying the tears on his shirt sleeve.  He 
sucked in several slow deep breaths, trying to calm himself.  The frantic 
knock sounded again.

Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap.

When he thought he could talk without choking he spoke, his voice raw 
and dry, "Go away!  I'm sorry I disturbed you!"  

He figured it was one of his neighbors, disgruntled by the noise.  "Mulder?  
Open the door!  Mulder?  Please, you're scaring me!  Open the damn 
door!"

Oh God.  It was her.  He couldn't face her right now.  Had she heard his 
wail?  Of course she had.  That's why she was so frantic.  She probably 
figured he was having a nervous break down.  Maybe he was.  Or she 
probably figured he was hurt.  He was, but not physically.

"Scully go home.  Now is not a good time!" he half shouted, swallowing 
more tears that threatened to choke off the back of his throat.

"No!  Mulder!  Open this damn door right now!  Let me help you!"  

He put his hands in his head once more, taking a deep breath.  He heard 
the deadbolt click out of the frame.  She was using her key.  Oh hell.

XXXXXXXXXX

After some long hard thinking, she decided she had to go to him.  Talking 
on the phone was not going to cut it.  She needed to be able to see his 
face.  It told her so many things when his controlled monotone would give 
her no clue.  She knew that self induced monotone.  It always meant that 
he was hiding something, but she never knew what.

His eyes didn't lie though.  She had stood outside his apartment door for 
several minutes, feeling her courage wane now that she was finally here.  
Was she up to this?  She needed some answers from him, and she 
needed them tonight.  No more beating around the bush.  They were 
going to ruin their friendship if they didn't start talking to one another.  
Silent communication was wonderful but it wasn't best for every situation.  
There were too many unspoken things between them, things that they 
couldn't even identify.  At least, she couldn't identify them.

But nevertheless, she was going to talk to him. She was going to be 
honest.  If she wasn't sure or didn't know about something, she was going 
to cop to that.  They'd see what flushed out.

She raised her hand to knock finally and heard a sound from behind the 
door.  She stopped and held still, straining to hear.  It was him, sniffling.  
The sound got louder and she could clearly hear him sobbing.  Oh God.  
What was the matter?  Should she leave him alone?  Surely he would be 
embarrassed to be found crying over something.   She knew she liked to 
be left alone when she cried.

But that was her.  Fox Mulder was a very different creature.  He was a 
tactile, affectionate creature that was suffering from his lack of contact 
with other human beings.  She realized that tonight.  He needed human 
contact.  He needed to be touched.  He was that type of person.  Unlike 
her.  She wanted to be touched but she didn't need it.  Or was she wrong 
about that too?

She thought that maybe he was suffering from sort of variation on the 
'failure to thrive' conditions that existed in babies who were never 
touched.  
He was an adult and thus immune to that, but it was the same principle.  
She had resolved to touch him more and let him touch her more and not 
be afraid.  She would hug him and give him more ... touch.  Maybe it 
would help snap him out of the morose mood he'd been in lately.

Her heart was wrenching at the sound of his sobs.  She had to go in 
there.  But still she hesitated.  Could she be everything he needed her to 
be?  She was a rigid little Catholic girl with a suppressed libido and 
frustrated emotions.  She was not a tactile person.  She was not a person 
who emoted often.  He was, and boy was he emoting now!

Then she heard the sounds that tore a hole right through her heart.  

"Aaaaaahhhhhh, Hhhhhhaaaaaa, Ssscccuuulllyyyy! Aaaaaahhhhhh!  Oh 
Ggggggoooooodddddd, I nnneeeddd yyyooouuu!"

Her hand flew to the door without thought and she pounded her knuckles 
against it, bruising her fingers.

Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap.

Silence.  A few ragged breaths could be heard through the door. She 
knocked again.

Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap.

Then he nearly shouted, "Go away!  I'm sorry I disturbed you!"  Oh God.  
He thought she was one of his neighbors pissed off about the noise.

She shouted back, "Mulder?  Open the door!  Mulder?  Please, you're 
scaring me!  Open the damn door!"

Oh God.  He was silent.  He was going to send her away.  Hearing him 
wail that he needed her and made the hinges snap on some secret part of 
her heart that was always surrounded by a thick wall.  She didn't think he 
needed anyone.  He'd always said that.  Well, that wasn't true.  He had 
said he'd needed her.  For the work.  Always for the work.
 
"Scully go home.  Now is not a good time!" he shouted.  She heard him 
choke again and cough to clear his throat.

She was determined to get in.  "No!  Mulder!  Open this damn door right 
now!  Let me help you!"  

Silence.  He was not going to let her in.  Damn it!  Not this time.  No more 
running, for either of them.  She was going to get answers if she had to 
shake them out of him.  She pulled his key out of her purse and slid it into 
the lock.

The door swung open easily as she put her shoulder into it and she 
strode into the room, kicking it shut behind her.  She stopped dead in her 
tracks, taking in the tableau in front of her.  There were no lights on.  No 
television on.  The light from his fish tank was the only illumination in the 
gloom.  It cast an eerie sort of bluish light on the side of his face, back 
lighting his slouched form, huddling nearly in half, his head held in his 
large hands.

He was still breathing deeply and she heard him curse under his breath.  
"Shit."

She took off her coat and threw it over the back of his one dining room 
chair, along with her purse.  She took a deep breath and strode into the 
room, watching her feet lest she fall over any debris he'd left in his wake.  
There was none.  She stopped beside his knee, looking down at the top 
of his head.  He still hadn't moved or made any attempt to look at her.

"What's wrong, Mulder?"

He didn't answer, just sniffled a bit.

"Please tell me," she requested.  She softened her voice, making sure 
she didn't sound upset or angry.  "Mulder, I want to help you.  I'm your 
friend.  Now tell me what's wrong."

She had changed into a stone washed jeans and a light blue crew neck 
sweater and sneakers before coming over.  She wanted to be 
comfortable as she figured they were in for a long conversation.  Now 
though, it looked like they were in for an even longer one.  A real long one 
if she was going to have to pry every sentence out of him.

Maybe if I talk, she thought.  That might get him going.  I have to be 
willing to give if I'm going to get.  She nodded sharply to herself, even 
though he wasn't looking.  She sat next to him and reached up to wrap 
her fingers carefully around his hand, gently pulling it away from his face.  
He let her do it but continued to the stare at the floor.  She cradled his 
hand between both of hers in her lap.

She looked at it, smoothing her thumb over the back of his hand.  He 
squeezed her hand gently and she squeezed back.  She sighed deeply 
and leaned back on the couch, bringing his hand with her and forcing him 
to lean back and well and to drop his other hand.  He rested his head on 
the backrest next to hers but now just stared at the ceiling.

"Mulder, I came here tonight for a reason."  No answer.  She schooled her 
voice to stay calm.  "I wanted to apologize for earlier today."

Still no response.  "I was wrong to be angry.  You tried to do something 
nice for me and I ruined it by being a hormonal raving lunatic."  He 
grunted slightly.  Well that was a start.  At least she knew he was 
listening.

"I was just ... I don't know.  I saw that anonymous signature and I felt so 
empty.  Seems all I've ever had was 'secret' admirers and they usually 
turned out to be stalkers, like Padget.

He hadn't thought of that.  That made sense.  At least that explained 
somewhat her violent reaction, he thought.  He didn't trust himself to 
speak.  If she was willing to, he would listen.

She was silent a moment.  "I'm lonely, Mulder."  She heard him gasp 
slightly, barely audible.  She knew that admission would shock him.  She 
rarely admitted to needing anything.  Loneliness was an admission of 
need.

"I know that shocks you to hear me say that.  But it's true.  And I did a lot 
of thinking after you left the office.   I did a lot of thinking about you and 
about our relationship.  But mostly, I went home and did some thinking 
about me."

She glanced over and could see him turning just his eyes to look at her.  
They were black in this light and she couldn't really read his expression, 
but he was paying attention.  She was almost encouraged by his silence.  
The lack of interruptions was bolstering her courage.  The lack of light 
made it as though she was speaking to herself.  It was easier this way.

"I realized some things about myself.  I'm not stupid.  I know that I hide 
and stuff my emotions.  It's a byproduct of being a woman in a man's 
world.  Or at least, of being a woman who wants to get somewhere in a 
man's world.  Emotions are considered weakness in the working world.  I 
know this.  Intellectually, I know that this isn't true.  But I also know that it 
is perceived that way by many business minded people."

She felt him nod but didn't look at him.  "So I learned not to show them.  
Unfortunately, I didn't learn how to shut that habit off when I walked out of 
the Hoover Building."

She looked down at his hand, the one reminder in the darkness that she 
was indeed, not alone in this room talking to herself.  She flattened her 
palm under his and laid the other palm on top, sandwiching his hand 
between hers.  His hand was large and warm and it was like an anchor.  
In the darkness, she felt slightly disembodied and his hand was like a 
tether.

She squeezed it gently again and felt his answering squeeze.  It sent 
tingles skittering up her arm.  She took a deep breath and continued.

"I realized that I didn't know who I was anymore.  I didn't know what I 
wanted anymore.  And I couldn't even identify my feelings anymore.  I felt 
things today when you were talking to me, but I didn't know what I 
was feeling.  The only emotion I can identify anymore is anger.  I'm no 
psychologist but even I know that is a very bad thing."

She paused trying to gather her thoughts.  "So I went home and decided 
to take a look at myself.  I sat down with a pad and pencil and began to 
write.  As usual, I was trying to reason things out.  Why did I feel so 
unnerved by the things you said?  Why did I feel angry that I didn't know 
who gave me the gifts?"

She glanced over to see his lips twitch.  "What?"

He let his head roll sideways on the backrest and he looked at her.  "Just 
so like you to turn your feelings into an equation that can be figured out 
on paper."  He said this without rancor, without amusement.  Just a 
statement of fact.  

"That's pretty sad, huh?"

"No, not really.  It's what you know.  It's what you count on in life."  He 
was talking now.  Progress.

"I realized that wasn't working, so I just closed my eyes and let my mind 
wander and I stumbled onto to some very interesting things."

"Oh yeah?"  This was asked quietly.  He was looking at her now, 
intrigued.  She could tell he was incredibly eager to hear what she had to 
say but he didn't want her to know it.  She smiled gently at him then 
looked out into the darkness of the room again.

"Yeah.  I realized that I was lonely. I realized that it was my fault, I had 
created a situation in my life that didn't allow anyone to alleviate that 
loneliness.  I've tried to date, you know?"

She heard him swallow thickly, but he said nothing.  "But it didn't work.  I 
always had this mental checklist of attributes that my potential mate 
would have to have.  Silly, I know.  It was a thing born of adolescent 
insecurity and I carried it into my adulthood.  But later, I realized I'd 
stopped using my check list as a measuring stick and starting using 
something else."

His voice was a low whisper.  "What was that?"

She felt a wash of nervousness but knew she had to say it.  This is what 
she'd come here for.  She couldn't chicken out now like so many times in 
the past.  She took a deep breath and turned her head to look at him.  
"You, Mulder.  I was comparing them all to you."  

She still couldn't see him well, but she could see his eyes widen.  She 
whispered, "And they all fall short.  Way, way short."

She heard his breathing rate increase slightly.  His gaze was riveted on 
her now.  He still wasn't saying anything.  Probably afraid she would stop 
talking.

She cleared her throat, determined to continue.  She looked away again.  
Definitely easier this way, not looking at him.  Only now her awareness 
of him had jumped up a notch and she could 'feel' him boring a hole into 
her head with his gaze.

"Today, in the office, I asked you who it was that you wanted but couldn't 
have."

"Scully, " he began.

"Shhh, let me finish.  I need to say these things Mulder and if you interrupt 
me I may lose my nerve."

He fell into patient silence again.  "I was afraid that if you answered, you 
would say some other woman's name."  She paused.  "At the same time I 
was afraid you wouldn't."

She hung her head.  He remained silent, waiting for her permission to 
speak.   She could hear him panting lightly, but he remained still and his 
hand was immobile between hers.

"I was glad the gifts were from you.  But when you left, I wasn't sure if you 
had answered my question or not.  You can be so ... vague sometimes."

He couldn't suppress the mirthless chuckle that escaped him then but he 
quickly quieted again, waiting.  "I think you did answer me," she stated 
firmly.  "but I've been good at reading you."

Yes she was, he thought.

Silence.  "Did you?" she asked, now sounding uncertain.

Having been given permission to speak, he sat up a little straighter, 
leaning away from the backrest.  He turned bringing his knee up onto the 
couch so that he could sit facing her.  He didn't remove his hand.  "I don't 
know, did I?"

"There you go again, obfuscating.  Answering my questions with a 
question."

He chuckled.  He had used that word once before on a case and she had 
thrown it back at him ever since, for some reason finding his use of $10 
words amusing.  "I have a question for you," he said softly.

"What?"

"Which answer ensures that you stay with me and stay my friend?"

"Huh?"

"Which answer ensures that you won't leave me."

She felt a lump form in her throat, realizing at that moment just how 
important she was to this man.  He had shifted his position and now the 
light from the fish tank gave off more illumination around them.  She could 
see his face, sad and fearful, hovering before her, pressing his lips 
together while waiting for her response.

"It doesn't matter, Mulder.  No matter what the answer, I will never leave 
you.  I'm incapable of it now."

"Now who's obfuscating?"

She chuckled.  "O.K.  How about this?  The right answer is the honest 
one, Mulder.  It always is."

His eyes began to shine with moisture but he remained silent.  Then he 
murmured, "I'm so afraid of losing you, Scully."

She turned to  him then, hitching up on one hip so that they were facing 
each other.  He was staring at her hands, still holding his.  "You won't 
lose me, Mulder.  I promise."

He remained silent.  "I need to know, Mulder."  He raised his eyes to hers.

"Why?"

"Because I can't stand NOT knowing anymore.  I can't stand wondering 
when you are going to fall in love with some woman and walk away from 
our friendship.  Because I'm tired of feeling nauseous every time another 
woman touches you or gives you the eye."  Her voice was slowing raising 
in volume.  He doubted if she even realized it.  But her words were 
making his heart pound wildly.

"I realized a lot of things in the last couple of hours, Mulder.  I'm tired of 
pretending that I don't look at you and want to touch you.  I'm tired of 
feeling you touch me and pretending my stomach isn't melting into my 
shoes."  Her breath was hitching and she was beginning to quiver from 
suppressing her tears.

She sucked in a ragged breath.  "Damn it!  I didn't want to do this.  I 
swore I wasn't going to cry!"

Without warning he slid into her.  He pulled his hand free from hers and 
gathered her up in his arms, pressing her to his chest.  He was breathing 
rapidly.  The door was open now and she couldn't seem to shut it.  Oh 
God.  He was going to think she was such a simpering fool!  But the 
words were coming now, in a rush she was helpless to stop.

"I may not know who I am anymore, but I do know what I want!  I do!  
Damn it!  Damn you, Mulder!  Damn you all to hell for doing this to me!"  
She was hitting him lightly on the chest with the flat of her open palm.  He 
rocked her gently, feeling her words spilling into his lap and feeling his 
heart break with every sentence, every new revelation she was laying at 
his feet.

"I knew who I was until you came along!  I knew what the world was all 
about!  Then you turned it all upside down and inside out!  You made me 
question everything I've ever held sacred.  You shook the foundations of 
every belief I ever had."

"Oh God, Mulder!"  She was nearly shouting now.  He just kept holding 
her, tighter and tighter.  "I HATED you for it!  I absolutely hated you for it!"

His tears let loose now, the familiar guilt encompassing his mind at this 
reminder of all the pain he had caused her.  But she wasn't talking about 
being abducted, or being left barren, or being shot in the gut by a rookie 
partner, or running for her life.  These were the things he'd always blamed 
himself for.  She was talking about her peace of mind, her loss of her 
faith, even it had been temporary, her feelings of inadequacy up against 
the paranormal.  He had shook the foundations of her science and in 
doing so.  He had shaken the very core of who she was and left her 
standing on shifting sands.

He realized with chagrin that he had never considered these things as 
losses to her.  He had arrogantly thought that he was showing her that 
the world was full of mysteries and expecting her to be as intrigued as he 
was.  He was smug in his belief at times that he had proven her wrong.  
He had felt pride in that.  He realized that he had felt inadequate up 
against her science and had strove to drive her closer and closer to the 
envelope of her beliefs.  Mistakenly, he had believed he was doing her a 
favor.  Now he felt disgust.  

This was just more to add to the long list of things that he had taken away 
her.  Her very identity.  Why hadn't he realized this before?  She was 
calming now and she sniffled against the wet spot she'd caused on his 
shirt.  She lifted her head to look at him and he knew the moment when 
she saw his guilt.  She always could read him like a book, despite her 
earlier declaration.  He wished he could do the same with her.

"No!  Don't do this, Mulder!"

"Do what?" he croaked.

"Don't blame yourself!  Damn it!  You always take it the wrong way!  Yes, 
I was young, naïve and inexperienced and you shook my beliefs.  And at 
the time, my righteous ego couldn't handle it and I hated you for it.  But 
then...but then..."

"But then?"  He wasn't sure if he could stand hearing much more of this.

"Then I grew up, realized that I didn't have all the answers and neither did 
science and that was ... OKAY!  It was O.K. not to know it all.  It was 
O.K., to be imperfect.  Then I realized that you pushed me to test my 
boundaries.  You pushed me to really look at my beliefs, redefine them 
and be sure of them.  But, but, I didn't want to look at the emotional side 
of this, only the facts.  I hated you at first, but then..."

He was silent, his chest tight as he felt her arms slip around his waist and 
cling to him.  She lifted her head and spoke into his neck.  "Then I loved 
you for it."

His whole body shuddered as her words filtered into his ears like a soft 
echo. 'Then I loved you for it, loved you for it.'  She loves me?  No!  She 
loved me for IT, for testing her boundaries, for helping to ... to... to grow 
up!  Despite his desperate scramble to put her words in perspective, a 
frame that wouldn't hurt him, he was failing.

'Then I loved you for it.'  "Scu... Scully?"

She lifted away from his chest and up onto her knees, palming his face.  
"Is it me?"

"Huh?"

"Me!  Is it me?!"  He scrunched his brow.

"You ... you lost me Scully." he admitted.  His brain was swirling, trying to 
sort out what she'd said and all he was succeeding in doing was getting a 
headache.

"Is. It. Me. That. You. Want?"  She nearly spit each word at him.  

He couldn't fib to her now, but he didn't know if he could speak either.  
There was a huge knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat that 
wouldn't be dislodged even after repeated swallowing.  She shook his 
head between her palms gently.  "Is. It. Me?!"

His lips twisted into a grimace and he closed his eyes as his head began 
to nod in the affirmative.  He kept nodding, over and over, his breathing 
becoming ragged and the sobs returning again.

He sucked in a noisy, ragged breath, the biggest one yet and nearly 
shouted, "Yyeehheeessss."

She pulled his face into her chest and he clung to her.  "Ye..ye..yes!"  he 
tried to repeat himself.

"Oh God, Scully, yes, I want you so much."  He was trying to get it back 
together, she could tell.  But his body kept rolling under his shoulders as 
he sobbed, unable to stop them.  He was clinging to her like a hysterical 
child and she held on just as tight.

"Shhh," she cooed into his ear, running her hands through his silky brown 
hair.  "It's O.K.  That's what I needed to know.  That's what I needed to 
know."

She had expected panic but found only relief and a sweeping calm settle 
over her in the wake of his wrenching admission.  She lifted his head from 
her chest and turned his face up to meet hers.  She was kneeling and he 
was sitting.  She rarely looked down to him.  It hit her though that despite 
his ranting to the contrary, he had always looked up to her.  He had never 
wanted to be different or weird or spooky.  She represented everything he 
was not.  And he, well, he represented everything she was not.  They 
were both extreme ends of the spectrum and together, they balanced 
each other perfectly.

If they would let it happen.

She smiled gently at his tear stained face, brushing the wetness with her 
fingers as his breathing slowed.  He was gazing up at her like a lost, little 
boy.  He turned his cheek into her palm, running his razor stubble across 
her palm.  She shivered and lifted his face to hers again.

In slow motion, she placed one leg on the floor and carefully placed the 
other near the backrest on the outside of his thigh.  He glanced down and 
back up at her again.

Still in slow motion, she dipped him backwards until he was laying on his 
back, his head cushioned against the pillow he left there to sleep on.  His 
eyes were wide and innocent looking.  He was terrified.  She could see it 
in his eyes and she smiled gently again to reassure him.

She lowered her lips within a hair's breath of his mouth and looked to 
lock her gaze with his again.  He was holding his breath.  She grinned, 
"Breathe, Mulder."

His breath whooshed out of his lungs.  He was riveted on her and she 
could actually feel the weight of his total focus on her. She let her breath 
flow out and lap over his lips and chin, not touching but almost.  He 
sucked in a breath, nearly a gasp.  "Scu.."

"Shhh, Mulder."  He quieted but followed her with his eyes.  She gently 
kissed first one eyelid and then the other.  "You're wrong."

His eyes closed but reopened immediately, unwilling to stop watching her.  
She smiled, and kissed his nose, then both cheeks.  He was panting now.  
"You CAN have me."

She brought her outside leg up to suspend herself on all fours above him.  
She saw him glance down and followed his line of sight.  Her sweater was 
gaping open, her breasts full and straining against her plain white bra in 
this position.  He averted his eyes like a kid caught with his hand in the 
cookie jar.  She smiled but made no move to obstruct his view.  

Her eyes darted from his to her chest and back again.  She didn't think 
his eyes could get any wider.  But they did when he realized she was 
giving him permission to look.  He slowly lowered his eyes a looked 
again.  He licked his lips and it was suddenly all too much.

She dipped down and captured his warm, soft lips under hers.  She pulled 
back slowly, dragging her lips over his plump bottom lip, worrying it with 
her teeth and releasing it only at the last second.  He hummed in the back 
of his throat.  

He still hadn't moved.  His arms were lying docilely at his sides on the 
couch.  She reached down and moved one, then the other to her waist.  
His fingers flexed gently, but that was all.

She found that she was really enjoying the hell out of this.  It had been a 
long time since a man had looked at her this way.  One look down her 
blouse and his eyes had darkened, his lids grown heavy.  Naked desire 
was writ all over his face and he was nearly trembling with the effort of 
lying still.

She was in complete control.  She felt a surge of pride at that realization 
and instantly quelled it.  No.  This wasn't what she wanted.  She didn't 
want total control.  She wanted to share it.  They way they always had.  
But she quickly realized he wasn't going to make a move without her say 
so.

She lowered herself to lay on his body and he hissed through his teeth as 
her belly came in contact with his erection.  Good lord!  He was REALLY 
hard!  She felt moisture pool at the juncture of her thighs and her womb 
felt like it liquefied.

She looked at him and said, "You can touch me, Mulder."

He nodded sharply, but didn't move.  She smiled.  "I WANT you to touch 
me, Mulder."

He swallowed and then his hands began to run tentatively up and down 
her sides, brushing the sides of her breasts.  She felt her nipples harden 
and she moaned lightly and lowered her lips to his again.

She immediately licked his teeth and gums and he opened for her.  She 
slid her tongue inside and slowly explored his mouth.  He tasted 
heavenly.  Coffee, sunflower seeds and bitter chocolate.  

He angled his head slightly and when she murmured, "Yes," he deepened 
the kiss.  His hands became bold and so did his lips.  Soon he was 
kissing her with passion and hunger the way she knew he wanted to.  

He broke the kiss and she whimpered as he began to assault her neck 
with open mouthed kisses, nibbling on her collarbone.  His hands slid 
under her sweater and raked up her sides, feeling bare skin for the first 
time and he froze and then groaned into her mouth.  

She felt the vibrations wash through her body and her arousal kicked into 
high gear.  Good lord, this man could kiss ... everywhere!  He was 
suckling and nibbling everywhere he could reach without moving her 
clothing.

She stopped him with a gentle push on his chest and he laid back 
abruptly, eyes wide, and body stock still.  He thought she was saying to 
stop or saying no.  She could see the flash of panic in his face that he had 
done something to upset her again.

She smiled gently to reassure him and asked, "Still have a bed in there?"  
She pointed over her shoulder.

His mouth dropped open and he nodded, still not speaking.  "Want to take 
me in there?"

He nodded again.  He was so damn adorable right now.  She'd never 
imagined that he would be this hesitant with her should she ever give him 
permission.  But he was.  She supposed she'd given him enough reason 
to be wary.

She sat up gingerly and stepped off the couch to stand up.  She held out 
her hand and he took it.  She tugged him gently to his feet and walked 
backwards, towing him along into the bedroom.

He looked completely bewildered.  One glance at his waistline though and 
she knew he was as aroused as she was.  He was tenting the front of 
his dress slacks.  He looked like a rumpled puppy.  His hair was sticking 
up at furious angles.  His top three buttons were undone and his tie was 
hanging.  His shirt was skewed sideways, half tucked in, and half not.  He 
docilely followed her into the bedroom.  He reached over and turned on 
the bedside lamp.  It was the first move he'd made on his own.  It was a 
low watt bulb and cast a gentle light across the bed.  She was glad it 
wasn't glaring.  She looked at him again as he stood there.

He seemed calmer now.  She asked, "Are you O.K. with this?"


PART 3 (NC-17)
FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT
FEBRUARY 14, 2001
9:00 PM

Am I O.K. with this?  Is she fucking kidding me?  I must be dreaming!  I 
huffed out an incredulous affirmative grunt.  I seemed incapable of 
speech.  One kiss and she'd neatly shaved 100 points off my I.Q.  I was 
reduced to a mute idiot.

She stepped into me and pulled my shirt out of my pants.  Oh God, we 
were really going to do this!  Ohgodohgodohgod.  I reached out and 
gently lifted her sweater.  Her arms shot up above her head and I lifted it 
over her head.  She stood before me, calm as could be, not at all self-
conscious about her bare skin.  Somehow I thought she would be. 

Guess not.  And here I'd intimated that she would be the one reticent and 
frustrated and I was the one worried about taking my clothes off.  Would 
she like what she saw?  Would I measure up to some secret measuring 
stick that all women had?  Did I fit her preordained criteria for a mate?  All 
her words were still chasing each other around in my brain.

I guess I was good enough or she wouldn't be standing  here.  I had to 
keep reminding myself that this was her idea.  I was so overwhelmed at 
the possibility that this might actually happen, that I felt like I was in a 
dream haze.

She unbuttoned my shirt and slid her hands down my shoulders and 
arms, watching it puddle to the floor.  I shivered under her touch and 
reached up to run my hands along her sides again.  Her skin was baby 
soft and felt like spun silk. 

I was painfully hard and my pants were distinctly uncomfortable.  She 
reached for my belt and I stopped her.  I don't know why I didn't want her 
to touch me there yet.  I was so self-conscious.  What the hell was the 
matter with me.  She cocked one eyebrow up in a familiar Scully gesture 
and I smiled.  I couldn't help it.

I quickly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants, letting them fall to the 
floor.  I went to take a step toward her as she reached for the clasp on her 
bra and nearly fell over, forgetting my pant legs were wound around my 
ankles.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, embarrassment washing through me.  The first word 
out of my mouth had to be a curse.  Real smooth, Mulder.  Bless her little 
heart, she didn't laugh.  Merely stopped and waited while I toed off my 
shoes and yanked my slacks off my legs along with my socks.  

I stood before her in only my boxers now.  She waited until I could look at 
her and she unclasped her bra, reaching behind her in that Houdini move 
that women have that allows them to unclasp rear clasping bras.  The 
cups fell away from her breasts and she shrugged her shoulders, letting it 
slip off her arms to the floor.  

I gasped at the sight of her full, pale breasts, swaying gently, and cupped 
at the bottom from their weight.  She undid her jeans button and zipper 
and pulled them below her rear end.  She sat on the edge of the bed to 
remove them the rest of the way.  

Gosh, why didn't I think of that?  She gave me a grin that was full of 
mischief and I felt another wave of excitement roll through me.

She stood up in only her panties and hooked her thumbs into the elastic 
at her waist.  I finally unlocked my muscles and I strode to her in one 
giant step.   I reached for her and she nodded.

My hands landed on her hips and I slowly slid her panties down her legs 
slowly, sinking to my knees in the process.  She lifted one dainty little foot 
and then the other as I pulled them gently away from her feet.

I was overcome with the enormity of what she was offering me.  It wasn't 
just sex and we both knew it.  She was trusting me with her heart.  This 
couldn't be real.  I wrapped my arms around her waist and buried my face 
in her stomach.  Her auburn curls tickled my chin as I rubbed my face 
back and forth over her baby soft skin.  I saw her skin streak with red and 
I stopped immediately.  "Sorry!" I gasped. 

She chuckled.  "It's all right.  I have light skin.  It marks easily, but it goes 
away easily too."

I could smell her now.  The sweet smell of her skin, the citrus smell of her 
shampoo and the musky smell of her sex.  I inhaled and began to place 
open mouthed kisses on her abdomen, licking her soft skin to smooth 
away the red marks left by my afternoon stubble.

She moaned and I shivered, loving the sound of it.  I stood and gently 
backed her onto the bed.  She scooted up to the center and I went to 
follow her.  

She stopped me.  "Stop."

I froze, wondering what was wrong.  All she said was, "Lose the boxers, 
Mulder."

I smiled another goofy smile and shed my boxers, sighing as my hard on 
sprung free and breathed in the cool air of the room.  I heard her gasp 
and looked up.  She was staring at me, licking her lips.  I thought I would 
faint.  

"Oh God," I murmured.  She brought her eyes up to mine and smiled a 
big wide smile that made my stomach turn over in a somersault.  

"Come here, Mulder, and bring that big guy with you."

I laughed out loud now, unable to contain the giddiness that was skittering 
through my body at an alarming rate.  I was dangerously close to 
becoming hysterical with disbelief.

I took a couple deep breaths to calm my vibrating nerves and crawled up 
onto the bed, stopping on all fours next to her and watching her face, 
waiting for her to give me the next sign.

This was her ball game 100%.  I did not want to screw this up.  I wasn't 
doing a thing without her permission.  She was looking at me strangely 
and I figured she wondered at my inactivity.  Since she had been so 
forthcoming, I supposed that I ought to jump start my tongue and clue her 
in on what was going on in my head.

"Scully, ... tell me what you want."

She grinned.  "Isn't that obvious?"

I chuffed a breath out.  "You're not going to make this easy for me, are 
you?"

She smiled wider.  "Do you want me to make it easy?"

I nodded, yes.  "Please."  I felt the smile fade from my face.  "Scully, I'm 
so afraid of messing this up."

Her smile gentled and I felt my chest tighten.  She was so beautiful.  "You 
won't mess this up."

I don't know where this next thing came from.  Major blunder in the 
seduction game.  "Even if I come just from looking at you."

She threw back her head and laughed.  Not the reaction I expected but a 
good one nonetheless.  Her laughter bounced off the walls and it 
occurred to me that I heard it far too seldom.  It was like music to my 
ears.

I couldn't help smiling at her amusement, even though it was at my 
expense.  She got her mirth under control and said, "No, not even then.  
We'll just start over, that's all."

I felt calm come to me at last.  This was going to be O.K.  "Well, ma'am, 
that's mighty generous of you," I quipped.

"You still want me to make it easy?"

"Yes."  

"O.K., then.  Get over here and kiss me."  I grinned and crawled up to her, 
flopping down beside her and pulling her into a long, slow, wet, deep kiss.  
She took my hand in hers and moved it to her breast.  I couldn't believe I 
was allowed to touch these things.

I kneaded her gently and she moaned.  When my thumb swept over her 
nipple, it hardened further and she broke the kiss to moan loudly.  She 
whispered, "Pinch it."

Now it was my turn to groan.  I grasped hardened nipple between my 
thumb and forefinger and pinched gently.  She gasped and whispered, 
"Harder."

I pinched harder, afraid of hurting her.  But she groaned and launched her 
lips at mine again, rolling me underneath her.  Skin!  Warm, soft, baby, 
Scully skin pressed down the entire length of my torso!  Oh God, I was in 
heaven.

I moaned and she said, "Tell me."

"Awww, Scully, you feel so good, so soft."

She proceeded to lift gently onto her knees and rub her chest down my 
belly and back up.  My knees lifted and I bucked my hips involuntarily.  
"Oh God, Scully."

"You like that, huh?"

"Yessss."

She began to suck on my neck and I degenerated into a puddle of loose 
muscles and uncontrollable moans.  

When I felt her tiny fingers take me in hand and her soft, warm lips glide 
over the glans of my penis, I nearly woke people in the next town with my 
shout.  She seemed unalarmed and simply laid her hand on my hip to 
hold me still.  I knew it would be my undoing, but I looked anyway.

I looked down at her.  The sight of her redhead bobbing between my legs, 
the feel of her hot, wet mouth gliding up and down my shaft was nearly 
the end of me.  I had to stop her.  I reached out and gently pushed her 
shoulder away.  She sucked hard once and I bit my lip to keep from 
coming.  Then she let go and looked up at me.  "Please, Scully."

"Please what?"

"Aren't you supposed to be telling me what you want?"

She giggled.  "50/50 partner."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"  

She nodded, grinning.  "Something like that.  Share and share alike."

I rolled her over and slipped down between her legs.  I felt her suck in a 
breath and hold it and I stopped, looking up and seeking permission.  Oh 
God how I wanted to taste her.  But some women were squeamish about 
this.  I loved it.

She nodded, her eyes glinting with what almost looked like girlish 
excitement.  I smiled and lowered my face between her legs, swiping the 
flat of my tongue from the base of her nether lips up and over her clit.  
She yelped and her hips bucked off the bed.  I looked up to see her ball 
the comforter up in her fists alongside her head. 

I couldn't believe she was reacting to me like this.  I used my thumbs to 
open her and pressed my tongue inside, sucking lightly to swallow the 
juice that spread out over my tongue.  She tasted tangy and delicious.  I 
hummed against her and sucked again.  She moaned and I determined 
that I was going to make her come this way.  If I could hear her moan like 
that, I would stay there all night and be happy about it.

I went to work lapping and sucking and tasting her everywhere.  I slipped 
two fingers inside her incredibly tight tunnel and fished around for that 
magic spot on the front wall of her vagina.  I watched her carefully as she 
moaned and twitched above me.  She went still for a split second and 
then groaned loudly as I felt wetness flood my fingers in a warm rush and 
new I'd found it.

I immediately lowered my mouth to her hard little nubbin of nerves and 
sucked lightly.  She began thrashing her head from side and side and 
moaning, spreading her legs as wide as they would go.  Every moan 
skittered down my aching cock and made it quiver with anticipation.  I was 
so hard I was starting to ache deep in my shaft and pelvis.

I stepped up my assault on her inner walls and sucked harder.  Several 
seconds later, she broke.   

Sweet Jesus!  She shrieked my name and convulsed under my hands, 
wetness spraying out of her to coat my chin.  

"Mulder!  Ahhh, Jesus! Awww, awww, awwwwww!  Yeah!  Yes,  Oh 
goooodddd!"

My fingers were gripped in a tiny vice between her lips as she spasmed 
violently around my fingers.  I lapped her gently until her muscles 
quivered to a stand still.

I crawled up over her on all fours and stared down at her waiting for her to 
recover.  My dick brushed gently against her inner thigh and I nearly 
jerked out of my skin at the feel of it.  She opened her eyes and gave me 
a dazzling smile, so guileless and sated and it made me feel like my chest 
was melting.

"You O.K.?" I grinned at her.  She nodded yes.  "You are so beautiful you 
take my breath away."

I saw her eyes mist over.  It was the first whole sentence I'd managed to 
spit out since we started and I was quite proud of myself.

She reached up and tugged sharply on my shoulders.  I held my ground 
and she frowned.  I smiled.  "Tell me what you want."

Her eyes flashed impatience for a second but then she smiled, realizing I 
wasn't being difficult.  I needed to hear it, and hearing it turned me on.  I 
saw these realizations run across her face as if she'd spoken aloud and I 
wondered if I might, someday, be able to read her after all.  Maybe it was 
just that she'd never let me see it.  She'd been hiding for a long time.  We 
both have.

She reached down and grasped me firmly.  I sucked in a breath.  "I want 
you inside me.  I want you to make love to me."

"Slow or fast?"  I know I was pushing it, but I had no idea what she liked. 

"Any way you want, just so long as you're inside me."

I moaned and sank between her thighs as she lifted them to wrap around 
my waist.  I captured her face in my hands and kissed her again, trying to 
convey all the overwhelming feelings I was laboring under here.  She 
seemed to understand and kissed me back with a passion and a hunger 
that matched my own.

I broke the kiss and wiggled my hips, positioning myself at her entrance. I 
was so hard, there was no need to guide myself.  I just hoped I didn't 
blow a gasket the minute I was inside her.  She smiled and pressed her 
heels into my rear end.  "You're beautiful, Mulder, do you know that?"

I chuckled.  "Thanks, I think."  She grinned.  

"Now get on with it," she said in mock indignation.  

I braced myself and leaned my head into the crook of her neck and 
whispered into her ear.  "I'm so in love with you, Scully."  And I slid home 
in one smooth, hard stroke until I was embedded in the tightest, hottest 
sheath I'd ever felt.  She gasped, although whether in response to my 
words or my penetration, I don't know.  But once home, we both groaned 
and lay still.

Slid home?  Home?  Yes, I felt like I was home.  I was finally home.  She 
murmured in my ear.  "Move."

I began slowly thrusting in and out of her, hoping I could last at least a 
few minutes here.  I was so full and throbbing so hard.  I don't think I'd 
ever felt myself throb so hard, so intensely.  The feeling of her smooth 
silky walls gliding over my engorged flesh was the most exquisite feeling 
I'd ever had.  I'd been with plenty of women, but none felt like this, like 
home.

As if she'd read my mind, she said, "Oh God, Mulder, this is so RIGHT."  I 
couldn't agree more.  I kept my pace slow for a couple of minutes, but 
then I couldn't stand it anymore.

I needed release and I needed it bad.  She cooed in my ear.  "Don't wait 
for me.  I already came, remember?  Let go for me, I want to see it."

Oh shit. I was gone.  I began to drive myself into her, feeling my cock 
expand, stretching the tender skin to the limit.  The friction of her tight 
walls ride that sweet edge between ecstasy and pain and I began 
groaning up from my toes at the sensations.  She was thrusting up to 
meet my every push and the wet smack of her skin on mine was just 
another exquisite sound I'd never hoped to hear.

I rose up on my knees and pressed her legs upward, hooking my arms 
behind her knees.  I bent her nearly in half when I towered back over her 
tiny frame.  She squealed and for a second I thought I'd hurt her, but then 
I saw her eyes roll back in her head and she chanted, "Yes, Yes, Yes, Oh 
Yes, Mulder.  Oh Yes, oh god, a little more, just a little more, Yes, Yes, 
yes!"

I pounded into her, sinking my throbbing flesh into her, feeling the room 
begin to spin.  I gritted my teeth.  I felt one mighty flutter of her core 
around the painfully stretched skin of my cock and I erupted in the most 
violent ejaculations I'd ever experienced.

I roared an unintelligible sound as I pounded her ass into the mattress, 
feeling her spasm around me and shout my name again.  I spurted into 
her over an dover, wondering if it had never lasted this long.

We collapsed together, breathing hard, her legs falling out of my arms to 
tangle around my hips again, locking me in place.  We squeezed each 
other tight as I panted in her ear.

The cool air was assaulting my sweaty pores and I shivered against her, 
loathe to move from my place just now.

She grunted.   Then said, "Pull the covers up."

I grunted and she chuckled.  "Roll over."

"Oh sorry," I mumbled, realizing I must be crushing her.  

I rolled off her and swung my legs off the side of the bed, ripping the 
comforter out from under my ass.  I held it up and she scooted 
underneath.  I rolled in with her and she coaxed me onto my back.  Then 
she crawled up on top of me and sprawled her tiny body over my chest 
like a blanket, laying on me, sweat and all.

I felt so content and at peace for that moment.  I knew it couldn't last.  I 
still wasn't so sure I wasn't going to wake up in a moment, but I wasn't 
going to analyze it, not just yet.

She stirred and lifted her head as my arms made their way around her 
shoulders.  She peered at me as though I was a most interesting 
specimen and I grinned and amused grin at her.  She smiled back and 
said, "You know, Mulder, that was really good ..."

"But?"  I asked, feeling a little skitter of fear.

"But I think I'm going to have to do more research to make sure we are as 
good at this as I think we are."

Her light weight body bounced as I laughed, my belly bouncing her up 
and down.  "Scully, am I dreaming?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head, a perfectly serious look on her 
face as though that was a normal question.  From me, I guess it was 
pretty tame.

"Good, just wanted to be sure."

She grinned again.   "I know it's not normally your bag of marbles, but you 
think you'd be up for some scientific studies in this area in the future?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll be UP for it."

She giggled now.  "Good, because I think it's going to be a long, long 
study.  I mean, I want to explore all the possibilities."

"All the possibilities?"

"Yeah, I mean, there are tons of positions, right?"

"Right," I answered mock warily, enjoying this tease immensely.  Scully 
never teased me like this.  I guess a lot of things were about to change, 
and rapidly.

"Well, so do you know how many there are?"

"Not really, but I'd imagine in the hundreds."

"Hundreds?"  She sounded shocked but I knew she wasn't.

"Mmm, think you'll be UP for that, Dr. Scully.  Because I am a most willing 
lab rat."

"Rat?  More like assistant."

"O.K.  Assistant."

"I've tried to do this study on my own but I discovered that without all the 
necessary components, the results are sketchy at best."

"Necessary components."

"One woman."

"Check."

"One man."

"Check."

"A large bed."

"Check."

"Sex toys."

I choked, loudly.  She began to giggle.

Tentatively, I asked, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, got any?"

"Yeeaaahhh," I said carefully.

"Like what?"

"Scully, are you sure we want to have this discussion right now?"

"Yes, I do.  In the spirit of our newfound disclosure and honestly, I think 
that this should be an in-depth study as I told you."

She was still masking this discussion with a tease, a game, which was 
fine with me.  We were talking and that was all that mattered.

"Do YOU have any toys, Scully?"

"Yes."

"Like what?"

"You first."

"Oh no, you started this, you first."

She sighed loudly.  "O.K.  I have two vibrators and one ..."

"One?"

"One little, slender ..."

I waited.  No answer.  "One little, slender?"  I prompted.

"Butt plug," she blurted out. 

I choked again.  "Jesus, Scully, are you trying to give me a heart attack!?"

She giggled.  "Are you appalled?"

"No, I'm just surprised."

"Why?"

"I don't know.  You seem so ..."

"Repressed?" she offered lightly.

"I didn't say that.  And no, that's not what I was thinking.  You are just 
generally ... conventional about most things."

"Yes, I am, but I think it's time for me to branch out."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"Yup.  And I think you're just the man to help me do it."

"I'd be glad to."

Her voice changed, tinted with uncertainty for the first time since this 
began.  "You're so much more experienced than me, Mulder.  I ..."

I lifted her head.  "Don't ever worry about that, and I'm not that 
experienced."

"More than me."

"Maybe.  But that is immaterial."

"No it's not.  Even as much as I wanted this, intended for this to happen 
when I came over here, I was a little afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of ... not being ... sensual enough ... or uninhibited enough ... for you."

I smiled gently at her.  "I can't believe you worried about that.  Scully, you 
are a beautiful woman.  But I'm in love with what's in here."  I tapped her 
temple. "And what's in here."  I brushed my fingers down her chest near 
her heart.

She nodded sagely.  "I mean it, Scully.  You are so ... giving and 
compassionate.  It wouldn't matter what we did.  I was so thrilled to kiss 
you I thought the top of my head was going to blow off."

She laughed now and I was glad I had broken her out of her somber 
contemplation of her imagined inadequacies.

"So I was O.K.?"

"O.K.?  O.K.?!" I exclaimed.  "Scully, I just had the most intense orgasm 
of my life."

"You're lying."  She said it lightly, but I knew she was serious.

"No," I sighed.  "I'm not.  I thought I was going to turn inside out.  Scully, 
being inside you was like ... coming home, Scully.  Coming home.  I felt 
whole for the first time in my entire life. And I think even if you had laid 
there like a dead fish it still would have been the best sex of my life."

She threw herself up against me and hugged me tight, her manicured 
nails digging slightly into my shoulder.  "Hey, hey."

I lifted her head again to find her eyes filled with tears.  "Don't cry, Scully.  
What's the matter?  Believe me, you were anything but a dead fish!"

She smiled through her tears.  Then whispered, "I love you so much, 
Mulder.  God, I've been an absolute idiot."

I pulled her to me again and kissed her gently.  "We've both been idiots, 
too wrapped up in our fear to see the trees for the forest, but that's over 
now, isn't it?"

She nodded. "We're going to be honest with each other from now on, 
right?"

Another nod.  "We're not going to hide and we're going to tell each other 
when we feel insecure or scared or unsure?"

Another nod.  "Good."  I kissed her again.  The confidence that was so 
missing an hour ago was back in full force.  One hint of insecurity on her 
part and I was charged with a feeling of confidence and protectiveness 
over this small, beautiful creature sprawled on top of me.

She plunked her head down on my chest wearily.  We were silent for 
several moments.  Then she asked, "Can I sleep here?"

I suppressed the guffaw that wanted to emerge and swallowed instead.  
"Of course!  What?  Did you think I was going to toss you out, now?"

"No, not really, but figured I ought to ask."

"You never need to ask, Scully.  You're welcome here anytime.  Christ, 
you can move in if you want to."

Dead silence and a tension coiling in her body.  "Forget I said that.  It was 
a joke ... sort of..."

She let out a deep breath.  "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry.  Sometimes shit just flies out my mouth before I think."

"That's O.K.  You're shit is better than most people's ice cream.  It just 
startled me for a second."

I laughed again now.  "Are you saying my shit doesn't stink, Agent 
Scully?"

I felt her lips smile against my chest.  "Do I have to answer that?" she 
mumbled.

"No.  I was just teasing."

"I know."

"Oh, I forgot, you don't like to be teased."

"I lied."

"YOU?!  You lied?!" I cried.

She shook her head, brushing her lips over my skin.  I shivered.  "Never 
again, I promise," she said, suddenly quiet.  

"Let's sleep now, I'm wiped out."

"Me too."

"We'll talk more tomorrow, O.K.?" 

"Mmm, and the next day," she replied.

"And the next day," I rejoined.

"And the next day," she repeated.

I poked her gently in the ribs.  She giggled.  "No more obfuscating, mister 
man."

I chuckled.  "I promise.  All future gifts will be signed!"

"Thanks for the gifts, Mulder.  They're my favorite."

"I know. Happy Valentine's Day, Scully."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mulder."

She snuggled down into my body and fell asleep minutes later.  I heard 
her breathing get deep an even out in slumber.  I wrapped my arms 
around her tighter, luxuriating in the feel of her skin against mine.  Our 
sweat had dried and the bed smelled of sex.

I inhaled, thinking that I'd never smelled anything sweeter.  Yes, I was 
finally home.  I was holding home in my arms.

THE END.

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