T H E  W I S H  I
by viXen  <xfvixen@geocities.com>

===========x===========
Summary: On St. Patrick's Day, Scully is given the opportunity to see
how life could be different had alternate paths been chosen.
Classification: SRA
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance, alternate universe
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: Takes place on March 17, 1996. No Season 4 stuff here.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. They belong to CC,
1013 and Fox.
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PART 1
------


*How can he keep doing this to himself?*

Dana Scully let those words from her mind hover over her like a fine
mist, wishing her skin could absorb them like water droplets and have
them nourish her body with understanding.

*How was it that he was able to put himself through this time and time
again, feeling he had never been closer, only to find he had never
been farther away.*

She shook her head knowingly; she was watching the inevitable downfall
of the one person she most admired, most respected, and yes, most
loved. She was forced to observe in silence as more of her partner's
strong foundation was chipped away.

She stayed because she knew she could never leave him. It was too late
to walk away, their lives forever entwined in the strong vines of
conspiracy and unanswered questions. So she watched and waited, hoping
he would let her help drive away the pain. Sometimes he did, and other
times, like tonight, he faced his demons alone.

*Alone. Why always alone, Mulder?*

Scully found the rear exit leading outside the hotel complex and
pushed through the door. She was hungry and tired, but refused to
return to her room. She needed fresh air and open space, and time to
think.

Mulder was strong, she knew that. His strength and courage astounded
her on a daily basis. A weaker man could never go through the pain and
mental torture her partner had gone through and still be alive to
agonize over it. A weaker man would have ended his life, ended the
suffering. Not Fox William Mulder. For some reason, Scully thought,
Mulder felt he deserved the suffering. Maybe he thought it was
appropriate punishment for not doing more when his sister was taken,
or for being a failure in his father's eyes.

Whatever the reason, she firmly believed he would never take his own
life, not willingly, anyway. Subconsciously he put himself in
dangerous situations, knowing he had a fifty-fifty chance of
surviving. Deep down inside, she knew he liked it that way; Mulder got
off on the thrill of danger and the anticipation of release. Not as
some perverse sexual release, but as a mental release. A release that
was not necessarily life threatening, but life affirming. Certainly
not the healthiest way of looking at life, but it was his way of
coping and it got him through each day to live the next.

Scully strode into a small field behind the hotel building, the
crunching sound under her feet telling her the field had long since
been neglected by the property's owner. The sun was just setting over
the horizon, casting an eerie reddish-yellow glow against the
smattering of pregnant clouds in the sky. She came to a stop near the
middle of the field when her gaze fell upon a splash of green in the
yellow and brown landscape. Curious, she approached the green patch,
her head tilted to one side.

*How could something grow here?* she wondered as she stopped a few
inches from the green rectangle's edge. She squatted down and plucked
a tiny piece from the patch. She raised it to her face and smiled.

*Clovers.*

Her smile soon gave way to laughter, short bursts of child-like
giggles bubbling up from her throat. Moving to her hands and knees,
she crawled into the patch, resisting the urge to lay down among the
clovers and settling instead for sitting with her legs tucked under
her. Running her hand lightly over the tiny plants, her mind leisurely
traveled back to her youth.

Her father had told her so many stories, home-spun fairy tales mostly,
but some were folk tales from his youth. Her favorite was the tale of
The Wish. According to Irish folklore, or at least Ahab's version of
it, the four-leafed clover was special not only for its rarity, but
because of its powers. Most people, Irish or not, knew the myth of how
finding a four-leafed clover brought good luck, but few knew about the
legend of The Wish.

She remembered he had told her that story while the two of them sat in
the middle of a clover patch, much like the one beneath her now. Ahab
had whispered the story to her as if eavesdroppers were nearby, ready
to steal his valuable secret. A four-leafed clover, he had explained,
was nothing more than a shamrock with a fourth leaf, but it was the
fourth leaf that made it so special. That fourth leaf was actually a
wish in disguise, put there by a leprechaun, and if you plucked the
correct leaf from the clover, The Wish was yours.

Scully's smile widened as she recalled her reaction to the story. Even
at the tender age of six, Dana Katherine Scully was a skeptic. She
raised one tiny eyebrow at her father and firmly stated, "Sure, Daddy,
a leprechaun and a magic leaf. I may be a little kid, but even _I_
don't believe that."

She remembered the lion's roar of laughter from her father, shocked
that such a grown-up sentiment had come from his baby girl. With soft,
loving eyes, he looked at his daughter and said, "Well, Dana
Katherine, the only way to find the truth is to find the four-leafed
clover."

So she tried. For the four St. Patrick's Days her family lived in the
house with the robust field of clovers behind it, little Dana
faithfully plopped down in the middle of the greenery and searched for
her four-leafed clover for hours.

She never found one.

Looking down at the clovers under her hand, Scully brushed a few to
the side, counting their leaves. *One...two...three.
One...two...three.* Her father's words played in an endless loop in
her head: "The only way to find the truth is to find the four-leafed
clover."

Scully brushed her hand over a few more clovers and counted their
leaves. When she finished with those, she counted another cluster. And
another. On some level, she knew what she was doing was foolish. She
was a grown woman -- an FBI agent, no less -- sitting on her hands and
knees in the middle of a clover patch in Mississippi on St. Patrick's
Day, counting the leaves on each little clover.

But she couldn't stop. She was consumed by the need for a Truth, any
Truth, even if it was the Truth that revealed her father's story was
nothing more than that: a story.

She had heard so many lies in the past few months. She had to have a
Truth.

A few renegade tears escaped her eyes as she pawed at the clovers,
quickly counting and moving on to the next group. She could see the
sun's light fading fast, so she stepped up her efforts, desperate to
cover the entire area before the natural light was gone.

Just before the sun had completely disappeared, she cried out.
Carefully, she grasped one clover at its base and pulled it from the
ground. She raised it to her face, counting the four leaves again.

It had taken her twenty-two years, but little Dana finally had her
four-leafed clover.

The Wish. She couldn't help but laugh. Dr. Dana Scully, Skeptic
Extraordinaire, wanted to believe a silly little story told to her
when she was a child. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than the
story to be true.

She raised her other hand to the clover, lightly stroking the leaves.
*It's now or never, Dana. Choose a leaf.* She stared at clover
carefully, seeing two large leaves, one slightly smaller leaf, and one
tiny, malformed leaf. Smiling, she gave the misshapen leaf a tug,
separating it from its home. She placed the baby leaf on her fingertip
and closed her eyes.

"I want...oh, I want so many things," she said wistfully, her voice
barely above a whisper. "I want happiness, normalcy, love, the
Truth..."

*Mulder.*

She smiled thoughtfully. "I want him to be happy, _truly_ happy. I
want him to leave behind the ghosts from his past, to free himself
from his self-imposed prison. I want to stop him from destroying
himself, for it serves no purpose other than to further seal our
fate." She paused, her mouth dry as cotton. "I wish that this whole
vicious cycle had never been started."

Scully raised the leaf to her lips, tears now flowing freely down her
cheeks. She'd had so many possibilities for her wish, but she had
chosen the one thing she knew could never come true.

As she sat in the field, lightly stroking the clover leaf between her
thumb and forefinger, she wondered what her life would be like had she
never decided to take the paths she had chosen. She wondered what
Mulder's life would be like had his paths not been narrowed by deceit.

Wiping errant tears from her face, Scully rose from the ground, one
hand still holding the clover leaf, and walked back to the hotel's
back door.

A blast of hot wind slammed into her when she opened the door. At
first she thought the building was on fire, but she saw no flames in
the darkened hallway. She took one step inside then cried out as a
sudden jolt of searing pain ripped through her head. The tiny clover
leaf fell from her hand, and she unwillingly descended into darkness.


===========x===========


Scully awoke with a start, a musty smell filling her nostrils. Her
head and arms were on a hard wood surface. She lifted her head and
dizziness hit her like a tidal wave, silver flecks swimming before her
eyes. She groaned, holding her head in her hands. Several minutes
later, when the pain lessened to a nearly tolerable level, she opened
her eyes.

She had to blink twice to make sure she was really seeing what she was
seeing. She was in an office, seated behind a large wooden desk.
Sitting on the floor and desk were cardboard boxes filled with books,
folders and other office supplies. In a box across the room, she could
see photo frames peeking out and what looked like diplomas tucked
under the glass.

Whose office she was in was the question tormenting her as she fought
the migraine-intense headache beating its way back into her skull. How
did she get from a hotel in Mississippi to this office? More
importantly, _who_ moved her here, and why?

She saw a black leather purse on the corner of the desk and reached
for it, pulling it by the strap until it sat directly in front of her.
She emptied the contents: wallet, checkbook, compact, lipstick, keys,
daytimer, two pens and a barrette.

She took the wallet and opened it, finding various credit cards and
$45 in cash. She removed one of the credit cards from its pocket and
read the name: Dana Katherine Scully.

That couldn't be right. She didn't own a Gold Mastercard. She turned
the card over, looking at the signature. It was hers, no doubt about
it. When did she get this and why had she forgotten about it?

Her brow furrowed as she moved to another compartment of the wallet.
She found the driver's license and pulled it from the wallet. Her name
and photo graced the card, but the address was wrong, listing her
place of residence as Chestnut Hill, Pennsylvania.

Curiosity and confusion soon overpowered the throbbing in her head,
and she continued examining the wallet, rifling through every nook and
cranny. She found more credit cards she didn't remember having
acquired and business cards of people she had never met. The last
compartment, a zipped pouch on the back, held just one item: a
laminated card. Her eyes grew wide when she realized what she was
holding in her hand.

Her picture sat in the bottom left corner of the faculty ID card for
the University of Pennsylvania. Above her picture were the words: Dana
K. Scully, Department of Biochemistry and Biophysics.

*Pennsylvania?*

*Biophysics?*

Scully's stomach tightened, her confusion escalating into panic.

*What the hell is going on?*



END PART 1


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===========x===========


PART 2
------


Three sharp raps on the door sent Scully's heart into overdrive. She
thought about not responding, pretending not to be there, but quickly
dismissed the idea. There had to be a logical explanation for all of
this and the person behind the door might help shed some light on the
subject.

"Come in," she said in a wavering voice as she stood and walked around
the desk.

The door creaked open and in stepped a gentleman who immediately
reminded Scully of her father. He was taller than Ahab, had a bit more
hair and a ruddier complexion, but he had a pleasant yet commanding
presence about him. His ample belly was covered in a tan cardigan, the
hint of a white dress shirt and burgundy tie peeking out from beneath
the wool sweater.

"Dana, so glad you're here," he said in a thick Bostonian accent. He
extended a chubby hand, which Scully grasped and shook firmly.

"Thank you," she replied hesitantly.

The man surveyed the room, his blue-gray eyes moving from box to box.
"Again, dear, I apologize for having to stick you down here. The new
wing of our building will be completed by July, so there should be
plenty of time for you to move in before fall semester starts. We were
lucky to find an empty office on campus." He paused, clasping his
hands together. "So, are you ready for the grand tour? It's four
o'clock now. We should be able to catch one of the biochem labs in
action."

Scully forced an enthusiastic smile. "Sounds great." She figured she
could scout out the surroundings, maybe finding a clue as to why she
was in Pennsylvania with a teaching job.

She had decided that either she was having the most realistic dream of
her life or this was an obscenely elaborate hoax perpetrated by
someone who was after more than just a laugh. Neither prospect sat
well in her queasy stomach.


===========x===========


Scully strolled down the long sidewalk winding through the campus,
trying to enjoy the lush landscape and university atmosphere. Her love
for being outdoors was overshadowed by anxiety and utter exhaustion.

The tour had been pleasant. Thanks to a student's passing greeting,
she discovered her 'tour guide' was Dr. O'Brien, presumably the head
of the biophysics department. She found herself getting wrapped up in
O'Brien's enthusiasm for the department's future, but the euphoria was
wearing off.

She arrived at the building housing her office and spotted a side
entrance. Outside the door sat a newspaper kiosk filled with the
campus newspaper. She picked up a copy, ignoring the headlines and
searching for the date. She found near the top of the page.

March 17, 1996. *Right date, wrong Dana Scully.*

She tossed the newspaper aside. "This is stupid," she mumbled under
her breath. It had to be a dream. It was physically impossible for her
to walk through a door and end up in another life. She smirked as a
familiar voice wove its way in her head, concocting some outlandish,
unbelievable explanation:

<<"You know what it is, Scully? By walking through that door, you've
teleported yourself into a parallel universe. This is your life, and
this is you, but in another universe where everything is different.
Just like Superman and his parallel self, Bizarro.">>

Her smile faded as she thought about the possibility of it being a
drug-induced hallucination. If that was the case, chances are she was
being held somewhere. Which meant Mulder was out of his mind with
worry. After all that had happened over the past few months, this
would tear him apart.

She swung the door open and entered an unfamiliar hallway. The
entrance had led to a row of offices, twelve to be exact, six on
either side of the hall. She knew she was in the correct building, but
must have entered on the opposite side from her office. She headed
down the hall, the click of her heels echoing off the drab white
walls. She soon discovered the hall was a dead end.

Miffed, she turned on her heel and headed back. The office door on her
immediate right was ajar, and she could see boxes and books stacked
like little towers leaning precariously against an already-overstuffed
bookcase. It reminded her of an office she had become quite familiar
with over the past four years.

Her eyes fleetingly glanced at the black metal nameplate hanging
inconspicuously next to a paper-crowded corkboard. Her hand flew to
her mouth when she read the name:

DR. F.W. MULDER
ABNORMAL PSYCHOLOGY

*Bizarro Scully, meet Bizarro Mulder.* She would have laughed at the
thought had she found it amusing. A shiver of uneasiness traveled up
her spine.

In one of his more open conversations during a stakeout, Mulder
mentioned he had considered going into teaching. He claimed it had
never been a serious consideration, but something he could fall back
on had he not found Bureau life to his liking.

Raising her hand to the nameplate, Scully traced the letters, her
fingertips brushing over the indented plastic. Mulder, a teacher...

"Can I help you?"

Scully jumped, yanking her hand from the nameplate. Her breath caught
around the lump forming in her throat.

That voice. Low and steady, with a hint of roughness, like honey
dripped over sandpaper.

Slowly she turned around, her best attempt at a pacific expression
firmly in place. Her eyes rose to meet his gaze, taking in his
appearance as they went. He was about fifteen pounds heavier, but the
extra weight agreed with him, filling out his normally sallow cheeks
and adding more definition to his chest, which was covered in a
turquoise polo shirt that hugged him in all the right places. His tan
chinos sat low and loose on his hips, something she had always
silently enjoyed about him.

His hair was longer, past his collar in the back. The silky chocolate
brown was laced with highlights the color of brushed gold, and instead
of one, several stubborn locks of hair fell forward in his eyes.

Copper wire frames sat comfortably on his face, a glare from the
overhead fluorescent lighting concealing the one part of him she most
wanted to see. He moved his head an inch to the right, releasing the
glare's hold on his eyes. She sucked in a long breath. They were the
same intense shade of light brown he reserved for their 'skeptic vs.
believer' debates. She knew he enjoyed those verbal sparring matches
far more than he let on, and the evidence was in his playful eyes.

Somehow, she managed to find her voice. "I...I'm sorry. I entered
through the wrong door and now I'm lost," she said weakly, unable to
tear her eyes away from him. He looked so different, yet so familiar.
Butterflies took flight in her stomach when he smiled that devilish
lopsided smile.

"No need to apologize," he replied, the slightest hint of a leer in
his eyes. "It's not often I get to see a beautiful woman fondle my
nameplate."

Scully's eyes widened as she felt a blush flooding her face. *Well, I
see the sense of humor is the same,* she thought, fighting to regain
her composure. She could see amusement in his smug expression, and as
always, that sent a surge of defiance to her brain. She never did like
being one-upped by a Fox Mulder innuendo.

She raised her chin and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"I recognized your name."

His eyebrows shot up. "Oh really? From where?"

Scully mentally kicked herself. One of these days she was going to
learn how to lie convincingly. "I...don't recall," she murmured behind
a sheepish grin.

He chuckled. "Ah, bad case of Reagan-itis. Happens to the best of us."

Shrugging, she returned the laugh, her eyes still tethered to his by
some invisible cable. They stood in the hallway, oblivious to their
surroundings, simply looking at each other. She felt perfectly
comfortable drinking in the sight of him, and she sensed he was at
ease with it as well.

With seeming reluctance, he lowered his eyes briefly, then brought
them back to hers. "I'm sorry to stare, but there's something
very...familiar about you. Which is strange because I don't even know
your name."

"Dana. Dana Scully," she offered quickly. "I'm new on staff in the
biophysics department, but my office is here for the next few months."

He smiled, then offered his hand. "Well, then. Welcome to the
neighborhood, Dana."

She took his hand, grasping it as firmly as her shaky hand would
allow. "Thank you..." She stopped when she realized she didn't know
what to call him. Mulder? Dr. Mulder? Fox? F.W.?

He must have read her mind. "It's Fox. And please, no small furry
animal jokes. I've heard them all."

She smiled and opened her mouth to speak when they were interrupted by
a shrill ringing. He glanced in his office, then back at Scully. "I
should probably get that. Why don't you come in? It's probably just a
student. Won't take too long." He gave her what she deciphered as a
'please stay' look, then closed the distance to his desk in three
giant steps.

She hesitated, but her curiosity was worse than a cat with all nine
lives to live. She followed him into the office and lowered herself to
the chair opposite his, the cluttered desk between them.

"Hey, I thought you were coming to Philly this weekend," she heard him
saying into the receiver. She watched as his expression softened,
every hint of tension draining from his face. He smiled and laughed,
then hummed a closed-mouth "umm hmm" followed by "I miss you, too."

His eyes were lowered to the desk, a goofy grin plastered on his lips.
Scully was beginning to feel like a third wheel. Deciding she would be
better off exploring her new surroundings than listening to Fox Mulder
whisper sweet nothings into the phone, she rose from the chair.

She took two steps to the door, then stopped dead in her tracks when
she heard him say, "Hold on a sec, Sam."

She turned back to him, her eyes wide in awe. He wasn't talking to his
girlfriend; he talking to his _sister_. He was talking to a living,
breathing Samantha Mulder.

"Dana, don't go," he pleaded, his face wearing that Mulder expression
she had nicknamed the 'You Just Smacked Me On The Nose With A
Newspaper' look. Regardless of what she called it, she had to concede
it was effective.

She walked back toward the chair she had just vacated, but chose to
remain standing and placed her hands on the back of the chair.

"No, I have a few minutes." He paused, then grimaced. "I wish you
wouldn't have told them I would be there tonight. I can't make it."
Another pause, then a sly smile, this one directed at Scully. "No, as
a matter of fact, I already have dinner plans. With a new colleague."

Scully tilted her head to one side, an auburn eyebrow arched high. He
shrugged, then grinned. She nodded and smiled, then pointed to her
watch. Cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder, he held up
seven fingers. She nodded again and reached for a pen and paper on his
desk, scribbling the address she had read over and over again on her
driver's license. He read the paper, gave her an 'OK' sign and a
devastating smile, then turned his attention back to the conversation
with Samantha.

Leaving his office, Scully stopped a few steps down the hall. They had
just made a date without speaking one word. Two people, who had met
less than fifteen minutes ago, spoke an entire conversation with their
eyes. Had anyone told her of an experience such as this, she would
have thought them a fool. But this wasn't about two strangers. This
was about her and Mulder.

She shook her head, then continued down the hall in search of
Professor Scully's office.


===========x===========


Scully arrived at her Chestnut Hill condo at five-thirty after an
uneventful twenty-minute train ride. She silently thanked the big man
upstairs that this version of Dana Scully was just as organized as
her, leaving a train schedule in her briefcase with the exact route
highlighted.

The two-bedroom unit was modest but tastefully decorated with beiges
and muted blues and greens, accented with oak and smoked glass. One
room had a small oak desk and an exercise bicycle. *The den,* she
deduced. The other was the bedroom, complete with a queen bed, two oak
side tables and a beautiful antiqued oak armoire.

*Wonder if I can take this back with me,* she thought as she stroked
the smooth wood of the armoire.

Shaking her head, she let her hand drop to her side. "What the hell is
going on? Why am I here? And what is 'here'?" She let her words hang
in the air. For one fleeting moment, her mind reached out to the one
thing she had refused to consider.

The Wish.

"No. Absolutely not," she said in a raised voice. "That was a fairy
tale, an impossibility. This is just a very vivid, very realistic
dream that has me so confused that I'm arguing with myself."

She sighed and plopped down onto the bed. The fluffy, overstuffed
mattress felt like heaven. She stretched out on the bed, her
forefingers rubbing her aching temples. The headache from earlier had
subsided somewhat, but a dull throb continued to pound out an even
rhythm behind her eyes. Pinching a spot at the bridge of her nose, she
squeezed her eyes shut, a tiny voice in her head teasing her with the
thought that when she opened her eyes, she would be back in her hotel
room in Mississippi, keying in a field report on the laptop. Her eyes
fluttered open and her gaze settled on the textured ceiling.

*Damn.*

She thought about taking a short nap, but the need for a hot shower
won out over exhaustion and she reluctantly left the bed's comfort. As
she strode to the bathroom, she passed a full-length mirror hanging on
the almond-colored wall. Her eyes swept over the reflection staring
back at her. The fitted black business suit was tailored to accentuate
her slim body. Her auburn hair was considerably longer, hitting just
below her shoulders. The ends curled slightly but were beginning to
straighten, probably the remnants of being sacrificed to the curling
iron god that morning. Her face had a youthful, healthy glow. Gone
were the fine lines around her eyes and mouth, leaving skin as smooth
as porcelain, lightly dotted with reddish-brown freckles.

*So this is Bizarro Dana,* she mused sarcastically. As her hand
reached out to the mirror, she half-expected the glass to liquefy at
her touch and her fingers to disappear into the silvery pool. She
closed her eyes and laughed when her fingernails clinked against the
mirror.

She walked into the bathroom, finding the tub and turning on the hot
water. The thought of a shower was soon forgotten when she spotted a
row of scented bath gels.

A nice, long soak in a hot bubble bath had a nice ring to it...


===========x===========


"So, I went off to Oxford, even managed to get a scholarship." He
stopped, taking a sip of chardonnay.

Scully sat listening, completely enthralled in the accounts of his
life story. So many things had changed; namely, his sister had never
been abducted. The omission of that one event had literally changed
Fox Mulder's life.

"But you said you got your doctorate from Harvard," she said casually,
smoothing the sapphire blue slip dress she had found hiding in the
back of the bedroom closet. "What happened to Oxford?"

He swirled the wine around in the glass, pink-tinted light reflecting
onto his white dress shirt. "I _finished_ my doctorate at Harvard. I
was...forced to come back to the States." He paused, placing the glass
on the table. "My parents were killed in a car crash during my second
year at Oxford. All of my dad's family, save for a sister who was
wheelchair-bound, were all dead, and Sam was only fourteen."

Scully saw the pain in his eyes as he spoke, the sight nearly breaking
her heart. "But what about your mom's family, Mu...uh, Fox?" She'd had
to make a conscious effort all evening to call him 'Fox' instead of
'Mulder'.

"My mother's family...wasn't interested," he replied coolly.

Lowering her gaze to the lasagna still in front of her, she pushed the
food around with her fork. "I...I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry."

"No, it's OK," he said, a faint smile flirting with his lips. "I feel
very comfortable with you, Dana, like we've known each other for
years. I just hope I'm not boring you."

She returned his smile. "No, not at all. Go on," she urged.

"See, my dad was Jewish. When my mom's family found out she was
marrying a Jew, they not only chastised her, but they disowned her,
cut off all social and financial contact. So when Mom and Dad died,
they refused to take Sam in."

Scully's jaw dropped. "They refused? Why?"

"Why else?" he snorted. "She was half-Jewish, which was full-Jewish in
their book. They had refused to acknowledge my and Sam's birth in the
first place, and they didn't want any part of us. Period. Even if it
meant Sam had to become a ward of the State."

He took another sip of wine before continuing. "I was over eighteen at
the time and a lawyer-friend of the family managed to convince a judge
I was a fit guardian for Sam. So I left England. Some of my Oxford
profs had friends at Harvard and they helped set me up there,
scholarships and all. Between the money from my parents' insurance
policies and a part-time job on campus, we made it. It took me a few
years longer, but I got my degree. The rest is, as they say, history,"
he added with a soft grin.

Scully nodded, her mind trying to absorb the information. His sister's
abduction had never taken place, yet his life was laced with threads
of pain and betrayal. Family members had still managed to narrow his
paths for him.

Gathering the courage she had been saving all evening, she asked the
one question she wanted -- no, _needed_ -- to know: "Are you happy,
Fox?"

He seemed taken aback by her question. "What do you mean?"

She swallowed, but remained determined to pursue the topic. She
couldn't back down on this. She had to know. "Are you happy with the
way your life has turned out? Are you happy with the paths you've
chosen?"

His brow furrowed, obviously pondering her question. He opened his
mouth to speak, hesitating briefly. "I...I guess I should be,
shouldn't I?" He added a shrug before continuing. "I'm happy with my
career, with the work I do in helping young minds reach their true
potential. Teaching is very satisfying for me, I find it rewarding. I
thank every day I have Sam and that has a good life. She's married to
a good guy, has a little girl. She's all the family I have left." His
expression darkened, but he didn't continue.

"It sounds like there's a 'but' in there," she said quietly.

He smiled thinly, his gaze piercing her. "But...I don't know. There
seems to be something missing."

Her stomach fluttered. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the
air around them was electrically charged with a low-lying sexual
tension that had been steadily building all evening. His eyes had
bored straight to her soul when he said something was missing in his
life. He had success, his sister, a life free of conspiracy, yet there
was still one element that kept him from being truly happy. She smiled
inwardly; she wanted to think that one element was her.

Her cool exterior melting fast, she quickly changed the subject,
asking his advice on sights to see and things to do in the area. He
comfortably settled into a detailed list of 'must-see' places,
offering his services as a tour guide as well.

Glancing at her watch, she was surprised to see they had been talking
for almost three hours. The wait staff hustled around them, clearing
tables and preparing to close the restaurant for the evening.

"Look, Dana," he said softly, "This place is closing soon, and I
really don't want to call it a night. Maybe we could get some coffee
or something. I live a few blocks from here, and there's a nice quiet
cafe right around the corner."

Her brain was unable to stop her mouth in time. "You live near here?"

He nodded, never taking his eyes from hers. "We could go to my place
if you want. No strings attached, of course," he added quickly.

She smiled warmly. "I would like that."

Grinning, he called the waiter to the table. After paying the check,
they left the restaurant, his hand comfortably taking its place at the
small of her back. As they walked to his car, Scully realized she was
no longer apprehensive about knowing if she was in a dream or some
form of an alternate reality.

Deep down inside, she was rooting for reality.



END PART 2


===========x===========
===========x===========


PART 3
------


Scully's first reaction to the apartment was the vast contrast to its
D.C. counterpart. The living room was open and airy, not brightly lit,
but very homey. Decorated in dark wood and earthtones, it had a
decidedly masculine feel. Bookshelves lined two of the living room
walls, and more books, mostly psychology volumes, littered the coffee
table. The furniture looked worn but very comfortable and had a
bachelor air to it. A television remote sat on the coffee table, and
the television, just a few feet away from the couch, was nestled in a
dark wood entertainment center. A fishtank sat in the far corner of
the room, no sign of life in its murky depths.

*Very Mulder,* she thought, deciding the apartment wasn't so different
after all.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked, motioning for her to
sit on the couch.

"Oh...no thanks. I'm fine." The last two words had almost caught in
her throat.

He must have noticed her change in moods. He sat down beside her,
poised on the very edge of the cushion. "Are you OK? If you want me to
take you home..."

She raised her eyes to his, drowning herself in pools of green and
brown. "No, no. I don't want to leave. My...former job didn't allow
much time for a social life. I guess I'm just a little nervous."

His lips curved up into a grin. "You should be," he mumbled.

"Why do you say that?" she asked cautiously.

He looked at her, his eyes hooded with an expression she was unable to
read. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lower lip, the sight of
which sent a shock wave through Scully's body and settled somewhere
south of her waist.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. "I think I'd better take
you home."  He moved to stand, but her hand on his arm stopped him.

"Fox, did I do something to upset you?" she asked, an edge of anxiety
coloring her normally smooth tone.

He lowered his eyes to his lap. "Remember when I said that in coming
here to my apartment, there were no strings attached?"

She sucked in a breath. "Yes."

He raised his eyes, holding hers in a hypnotic gaze. "I lied," he
whispered. His Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed hard, then quickly
averted his eyes, kneading his hands together in his lap. "Dana, I...I
don't want this to sound like some cheap pick-up line. Somehow...it's
like I knew I would meet you. We just met a few hours ago but there's
something...powerful between us, something that just clicked into
place right away. I..." He turned his head toward her, their eyes
locking.

And then she saw it. Something behind those brownish-green circles
reached out to her, surrounded her, caressing the inner recesses of
her mind. He knew. About their partnership, the pain and suffering
they had been through, the unspoken bond that forever intertwined
their lives...

He knew everything. This was Mulder. _The_ Mulder.

_Her_ Mulder.

On impulse, she inched closer to him, her eyes giving him silent
permission. His hand moved to her cheek, his palm cupping her skin.
She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, letting the warmth
envelop her. She heard a rustling on the couch, then felt his other
hand brush her hair back from her face. Despite her urge to open her
eyes, she kept them closed, relying on feeling alone. The anticipation
was an exquisite torture.

Finally, she felt his breath on her face and she let out a hushed
whimper when his mouth found hers. His lips were soft, just as soft as
she expected them to be, and the kiss was tentative, almost chaste.
Scully brought her hands to his chest, rubbing her fingers over the
smooth cloth of his shirt. She could feel the heat rising from his
skin through the thin material. She wanted more.

Her tongue lightly brushed against his lips. He moaned into the kiss,
and the sound traveled straight through her, liquefied her need. He
opened his lips, allowing her entrance and she wasted no time,
plunging in and tasting every ridge and plane.

The sensation of their tongues clashing and dueling caused something
inside Dana Scully to snap, releasing raw passions for this man buried
so deep, she hadn't dared acknowledge their presence before now.

Using his shoulders as leverage, she climbed on his lap, her knees
straddling his hips. His hands went to her waist, steadying her as her
hands found his tie, deftly loosening the knot. His head fell back,
hitting the back of the couch with a dull thud, which he punctuated
with a grunt. She continued working on the tie until she had the knot
free. He lifted his head back up and his eyes found hers.

"Dana, you're killing me here," he whispered. "If we don't stop now, I
can't be responsible for my actions. You're about ten seconds away
from having that dress ripped off your body."

Scully had to smile. She was touched by his chivalry. Despite his
desire -- the outline of which she could see straining through his
slacks -- he was giving her the opportunity to back down if she chose.

Too late. She had already made her choice.

"So what's stopping you," she replied in a breathy alto as she undid
the top two buttons of his shirt. She moved forward and placed a
lingering kiss on his throat. "I want this. I want _you_," she
whispered against his skin.

She moved back to look in his eyes, their color changing rapidly from
light hazel-green to dark emerald. Those eyes, coupled with an exhaled
hiss from his lips, told her all resistance had left him. He cupped
her face in his hands and he pulled her to his mouth. There was no
innocence in this kiss; his lips were bruising, demanding, his tongue
thrusting into every corner of her mouth. One hand moved to her back;
the other tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

Scully felt a hunger deep inside her body, something she knew could
only be satisfied by his touch. Reluctantly, she pulled back, her
lungs crying for air. His respiratory situation wasn't much better; he
was panting like a dog on a summer day in Phoenix. He gulped air for a
few seconds, then pulled her back toward him. She resisted, then with
a coy smile she rose from his lap to stand before him. She reached for
his hands, urging him to stand. He did, quickly taking her in his arms
and holding her, their eyes communicating every word, every thought.

He lifted her with ease, laughing as she let out a yelp in surprise.
After claiming one more fiery kiss, he carried her to the bedroom, her
head comfortably snuggled against his neck as her tongue tasted the
salty skin just below his jawline. Once inside the doorway, he
released her legs and she slid down his body, smiling at his sharp
intake of breath. She reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair but
he grasped her wrists, tenderly kissing the inside of each.

"Turn around," he whispered.

She tilted her head to one side, silently questioning him. He kissed
her forehead, the tip of her nose, finally her mouth. She returned the
kiss wholeheartedly, grabbing his tongue between her teeth and
suckling, thoroughly enjoying the rush of power as she swallowed his
moan.

He broke the kiss as his hands went to her shoulders, turning her so
her back was facing him. Pulling her against his body, he ran his
hands along her arms, then back to her shoulders. Moving her hair away
from her neck, he began kissing her sensitized skin, his hands
leisurely moving to her back. He unzipped her dress, then peeled the
dress open and slowly moved it down her arms. She let her arms hang
lifeless at her sides, and the dress slipped down her body, landing in
a pool of blue silk at her feet.

She gasped harshly and arched back into him when he found an
especially sensitive spot just below her ear. She felt him smile
against her skin, and he lightly nipped at the spot, his efforts
eliciting something between a whimper and a purr from her lips. His
mouth found the spot again, and he opened his lips, sucking hard. She
cried out as her knees turned to jelly, forcing her to lean back
against him. He caught her with an arm around her waist and pulled her
closer while pressing his rock-hard arousal forward into the small of
her back. She smiled. Obviously, his ministrations were having the
same intoxicating effect on him as well.

A sudden need to feel his lips upon hers sent a surge of adrenaline
through her veins and she whipped around in his arms, grabbing his
head and pulling him down into a brutal kiss. With shaky fingers, she
made short order of the buttons on his shirt. One rough tug freed the
front of the shirt from his slacks and he shrugged it off his
shoulders. Her hands and lips roamed his chest, feeling every inch of
skin, memorizing every curve and dip, every wiry hair. If she really
was in a dream, she wanted as precise a memory as her mind would
allow. She wanted every detail of Fox Mulder's lean, beautiful,
aroused body permanently etched like a hieroglyph on a special wall in
her brain.

Their remaining clothing flew to different parts of the room as each
article was hastily removed and carelessly tossed aside. The need to
feel skin upon skin was first and foremost in her mind, and judging
from the animalistic sounds coming from the man before her as their
bodies met, she knew it had been high on his priority list as well.

He finally pulled away and scooped her up in his arms, gently placing
her in the center of his bed. He stepped back for a moment to look at
her, and she did the same.

This was Mulder, all right. A few pounds heavier, but undeniably the
same man. She had seen him, _all_ of him, only one other time. In New
Mexico, when he lay unconscious on the hotel bed with a bullet wound
in his shoulder, she had undressed him, bathed him with a washcloth
and basin of water, then redressed him in fresh clothes. Her 'doctor'
instincts had kicked in almost immediately, but that didn't stop her
from enjoying one sweeping glance at his naked form, her eyes drinking
in every ounce of flesh.

Of course, the Mulder she had seen then had not been in a state of
arousal. The Mulder standing before her now, his body taut with
desire, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, was quite a different
sight, one that literally took her breath away.

She reached out to him, her inviting smile acknowledged on his lips.
He took her hand and lowered himself onto the bed, moving over her,
distributing his weight in a way that allowed maximum contact without
crushing her. Their lips met in a slow, sultry kiss while one of his
hands wandered down to her chest, caressing her, giving each breast
equal time and attention so as not to make one feel neglected.

Each meeting of their lips grew more urgent and each stroke sent her
closer to oblivion. She could feel him, hot and swollen against her
leg, and she knew neither one of them would be able to hold out much
longer.

His hand traveled lower, fingers splayed wide across her midriff,
lazily sliding down until he found her center. His slow, sure strokes
drove her mindless as she instinctively pushed herself into his palm.
His mouth created its own magic, each kiss reaching through her skin
and touching her heart. The last bit of rational thought flowed out of
her in a hoarse gasp when his tongue flicked at her nipple, then
followed up with a light nip with his teeth.

He slowed his strokes, turning his concentration to teasing her
breasts, and she took the opportunity to do some exploration of her
own. Placing her hand on his chest, she lightly dragged her
fingernails down his body, fingers blindly searching. She found what
she had been seeking and closed her hand around the solid heat of him.
He lifted his head from her and moaned deeply. Moving her hand down to
the nest of dark brown curls, she tightened her grip and covered the
length of him in one slow stroke, delighting in the sound of a second
moan erupting from his chest. His eyes, two chips of coal surrounded
by thin rims of emerald, told her he was at the point where the
pleasure was fast becoming pain. She had reached that point as well.

Her hand went to his hip, an unspoken signal understood by both. He
turned away from her, his hand reaching for the side table drawer. She
smiled and closed her eyes as she heard frantic digging, then heard
the sound of foil ripping. The bed shifted again and she opened her
eyes, finding him poised above her. Their eyes locked, a silent
conversation ensuing:

*Are you sure?*

*Yes.*

*Are you ready?*

*Now.*

A brief kiss, then pure ecstasy as he gently slipped into her. Their
moans combined in a breathy duo, and his head dropped to her chest.

"Jesus, Dana" he whispered hoarsely. He had stopped moving, allowing
her muscles to adjust before sheathing himself completely in her
warmth.

Her hands slid down to his hips again, and she pressed him down while
pushing up with her own hips. The movement inched more of him inside.
She tried it again, but he resisted, locking his hips in place.

She pressed again. "More," she whispered.

"Dana, you said that it's been a while..."

She shook her head violently. "I don't care what I said," she exhaled.
"I want all of you in me now."

His breath caught. "I don't want to hurt you."

One of her hands left its sentry on his hip, moving up to cup his
smooth face. "You won't hurt me, Fox."

A loud rush of air flew past his lips as his eyes squeezed shut. She
closed her eyes as well. He shifted slightly above her, then drove
into her, filling her completely with one long thrust.

She lifted off the bed, his name a strangled cry in a voice she didn't
recognize as her own. Her body screamed at her; it _had_ been a long
time, and he was certainly above average in the size department, but
she filed the pain away. The feel of him buried deep inside her now
was worth a few sore muscles later.

He started to move, teasing her by almost pulling out completely, then
slowly thrusting forward. He chuckled lightly as she squirmed
underneath him, coaxing him to speed up his undulations. She circled
her legs around him, locking her ankles around his waist and angling
herself for him to penetrate even deeper. His hands went to her hips,
holding her still as he pulled back and pushed into her again. Their
voices collided in a cacophony of guttural moans and gasps. He
repeated the same move again. Then again. And again. And again. Each
one more frequent, more powerful.

A volcanic pressure rumbled within her as their lower bodies met in a
forceful rhythmic dance. Every nerve ending was on fire from his
touch, and the sensation of him moving in and out of her was creating
a friction that threatened to consume her from the inside out. She
could feel his finesse lagging as he slammed into her with a
controlled violence, the tip of him hitting her cervix, the impacts
reverberating through her mind, body and soul.

Finally reaching the apex of her control, she gave herself to the
explosions with a throaty gasp. Pleasure overwhelmed her, rippling
through her body like the waves of an angry sea, the sheer intensity
of it all causing her to nearly black out. Off in a distance, she
heard him shout her name, and through her own contractions she could
feel him pulsing inside her, the stream of his warmth shooting into
her, filling her, her essence clutching his as they became one in
mutual release.

She was vaguely aware of his weight collapsing upon her, but she was
beyond movement or speech. The only act she was able to perform was
breathing, and even that was an effort. His body covered hers with a
warmth she had been seeking for so long. Not just the heat emanating
from his sweat-soaked skin pressing her into the mattress, but an
inner warmth that filled her with a sense of utter completeness.

Slowly, she came back to herself, her hands running up and down the
length of his back, lightly brushing over the lean muscles. He stirred
above her, but she tightened her legs' grip around him.

"No, don't move," she purred in his ear, flicking her tongue at his
earlobe.

"I'm too heavy for you," he said drunkenly, his voice muffled by his
face being buried in her neck.

"No, you're fine," she assured him. "I'm stronger than I look."

He chuckled, then started placing gossamer-light kisses along her
neck, nipping and licking at her skin. She let out a half-sigh, half-
moan as his mouth reached her ear. He pulled her earlobe into his
mouth as his hands tangled in her hair.

"I can't get enough of you, Dana Scully," he whispered, his breath
feathering her ear. "I can't explain it, but the more I touch you, the
more I taste of you...it's not enough."

His words swirled around her head as she felt him kissing her
collarbone, then moving lower to her breasts. He nipped and suckled
her, his teeth lightly grazing her sensitive skin, bringing each rosy
tip to a hardened peak. He continued down, kissing and laving her hips
and stomach, dipping his tongue in her navel.

She sucked in a quick breath and grabbed for his hair when she
realized where he and his mouth were heading. He raised his head to
look at her, his dark eyes questioning.

"I...I've never..." she blurted out before a lump forming in her
throat cut off her ability to speak. She had never allowed herself the
experience of having a man pleasure her in that most intimate way. For
to allow herself that level of ecstasy meant to give up total control
of her body, something Dana Scully never permitted. Losing some
control every once in a while was something she wanted, even needed,
but total loss of control scared the hell out of her.

He hesitated, as if trying to read her thoughts, then nodded at her.
"It's OK, I understand. Not until you're ready."

The tenderness in his voice curled her toes. He planted a soft,
lingering kiss just above her auburn curls, then resumed his mouth's
exploration of her hips and abdomen.

The few men in her past that had shown interest in performing that act
responded to her reluctance with everything from disappointment to
anger, one telling her she needed to 'lighten up'. It had nothing to
do with her being frigid or inflexible in the bedroom; she was neither
and she knew it. What it all boiled down to was trust. The act of sex
itself, by definition, meant she had to relinquish some control,
entrusting her body to another, but for her, both physically and
emotionally opening herself that fully to someone was out of the
question.

Until now.

She felt his skin rubbing against hers as he started to slide his body
back up toward her. Biting down on her lower lip, she shook her head
and pushed his head back down toward her thighs. He raised his eyes to
hers, and drawing strength from his compassionate gaze, she whispered,
"I'm ready."

She wasn't sure if the growl came from her chest or his. She didn't
care. Closing her eyes, she relaxed every muscle, willing the tension
to leave her through an exhaled breath.

Her skin came alive as he placed delicate kisses along her upper
thigh. Before she knew it, he had moved her leg out to the side. He
did the same with the other leg, then moved his hands and mouth to her
inner thighs, delicately nipping and laving her skin. His fingers
moved to her center, parting her, opening her to him.

The first contact of his tongue on her sent her arching violently off
the bed, a harsh gasp tearing from her lips. She was completely
unprepared for the sensation, and embarrassment flooded into her body,
manifesting itself in the form of a light red flush on her skin. He
lifted his head from her, and gently grasping her hand, he brushed it
with his lips. Reluctantly, her eyelids fluttered open and she found
him staring at her with desire-darkened eyes.

"Relax, Dana," he whispered. "Let me take you there."

She nodded as her eyes welled with tears, embarrassment quickly
replaced with an all-consuming need. When he finally reached out again
with his tongue, she gave herself fully to his tender seduction. She
gave Fox Mulder control.

_Total_ control.

Before long, she felt the waves growing within her, but with an
additional edge that was primal in nature. Her breathing came in short
pants, in between the continuous keening moans that escaped from
unknown caverns within her body. She was in a tornado, emotions
whirling around her, impacting and melding with her, only to be ripped
away and replaced with another. Love, desire, joy, gratitude, fear,
passion, pain, pleasure...all mixed together as he took her to both
Heaven and Hell with one last stroke.

She screamed his name as she shattered into a thousand tiny particles.
Flashes of light danced behind her closed eyelids, a miniature
fireworks display for only her to see. Tiny prickles of electricity
tapped on every nerve ending from her head to her toes, not that she
had any idea where her head or toes were at the moment.

Slowly, very slowly, she began to come down. Strong, gentle arms
surrounded her, moving her and placing her head on something soft and
warm. She could hear the low, smooth melody of his voice as he spoke,
but none of the words made sense, randomly mixing together in a
lullaby of soft murmurs.

She wanted to open her eyes to show him the emotions he had uncovered
in her. She wanted to tell him how deeply her love for him went. She
wanted to send him soaring to the same heights he had unselfishly sent
her to just minutes before.  She had to tell him, she had to see him,
but her sated body's demand for rest overruled her most basic
functions, and she curled up in a blanket of darkness.



END PART 3


===========x===========
===========x===========


PART 4
------



As her mind struggled between sleep and consciousness, Scully was
aware of a rhythmic thumping under her left ear. A heartbeat.

Her eyelids fluttered open and her vision focused on an arm draped
protectively over her, soft fingers brushing against her forearm. She
shifted and stretched, and the arms tightened around her.

"Hi there." She felt the vibrations of his voice through his chest.

She smiled. It wasn't a dream. She was still here. _He_ was still
here. Her smile faded when she realized what she had done.

"Oh, Fox. I'm so sorry," she said in a tremulous voice.

His hand resumed stroking her hair. "What for?"

"I...I fell asleep..." She stopped before her voice betrayed her
completely. She was mortified. This man had given her a pleasure she
had never known, he had made her feel more like a woman than any man
before him, and how did she repay him?

"Hey, look at me," his velvety voice called to her. When she hadn't
lifted her head, he tried again. "Dana, look at me." His hand went to
her chin, coaxing her to move.

Reluctantly, she lifted her head from his chest. She kept her head
down, her hair fanning around her face like protective auburn veil.
His hand remained insistent at her chin until her eyes met his.

"There is nothing for you to be ashamed of," he said gently. "I know
that was a difficult decision for you, and the fact that you let me be
the one..." He paused as he raised a hand to her face, brushing a few
strands of hair behind her ear. "It was incredible, and not just for
you, you know."

She raised an eyebrow playfully. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "It was beautiful. _You_ were beautiful."

His words entered her ears but traveled straight down, refueling her
desire as they went. She leaned forward until her mouth touched his,
her lips and tongue wordlessly expressing her gratitude and love to
him. Breaking the kiss slowly, she leaned back, her forefinger
trailing down his chest.

"Besides," he continued, "it's a good thing you fell asleep. I needed
the time to...uh...recharge my batteries." He flipped his eyebrows and
added a sly grin.

Her hand continued its descent down his body. "So, have you recharged
yet?"

"I'm not sure. Why don't you find out." His eyes darkened as he spoke.

A soft grin formed on her lips as her hand disappeared under the top
sheet, her eyes never leaving his. He gasped as she teased his inner
thighs with light caresses and he fought to keep his eyes locked with
hers. He lost the battle, his eyes shutting in time with a raspy moan
from his mouth, as she wrapped her hand around him and began stroking
him. She lowered her head to his chest, planting a feather-soft kiss
at his collarbone. With each stroke she added another kiss, each kiss
lower down his body than the first, until her mouth was nestled in the
crisp hairs below his abdomen.

His hands move to her head. "Dana," he groaned. She expected to feel
his hands press her closer to her intended goal, but she felt him
trying to pull her head back toward him. Smiling, she took his hands
and moved them to his sides.

"It's your turn now," she whispered as she darted her tongue across
the tip of him, licking away a salty bead of liquid.

His laugh came out more like a pained cry. "You really _are_ trying to
kill me, aren't you?"

"Yes," she replied in a low alto. "But what a way to go."

His response was lost in a growl as she took him in her mouth. She was
determined to make up for falling asleep earlier. If his incessant
moaning and his hands' death grips on the bed sheets were any
indication, she was forgiven.

Not long after she started her assault, he reached for her head again.
"Dana, please..."

She could hear the pleasure-pain in his strained voice and she knew
she had brought him to that dangerous edge. She crawled up his body
and he grabbed her head, pressing his mouth to hers, his tongue
forcefully brushing across her lips and teeth.

She broke away breathless and rose to a sitting position over him,
straddling his stomach. Leaning over to the bedside table, she grabbed
for a foil packet and ripped it open. His hand reached out for the
packet's contents, but she shook her head.

"Allow me, Fox," she purred as she scooted herself back toward his
thighs. He squirmed under her as she took her time covering him in the
latex. She moved forward again, lifting her hips until they were
directly above his. Strong hands encircled her waist as she reached
for him, aligning their bodies. Their gazes locked as she took a deep
breath, then released her leg muscles.

His moan was matched by her own as their bodies joined. He was the
first to move, his hips pushing up while his hands pressed her down.
Scully's head fell back and she sang out with a very unlady-like
grunt. He repeated the motion, and she repeated the grunt.

Her head lolled forward and she opened her eyes to find him grinning
devilishly at her. "Proud of yourself, aren't you?" she asked.

His grin widened. "Very," he said smugly, punctuating it with another
thrust.

He let her set the pace after that and she kept it at a slow burn,
lifting herself then grinding her hips down, finding that one angle
that sent shivers through her body. Her eyes never left his face. She
watched the changes in his expression, memorizing the moves and
caresses that brought him the most pleasure. When she finally heard
him cry out her name, she stopped moving and just watched him, denying
herself release in order to see his face contort then relax as he went
over the edge. She couldn't remember seeing anything more beautiful.

Lowering herself to his chest, Scully let out a content sigh. They
were still joined, and she had no intention of moving. She was
perfectly comfortable being stretched out over his long body, her
fingers lazily making a circular pattern on his chest. She stifled a
giggle when she heard a sharp rumbling from the vicinity of his
stomach.

"Sorry," he chuckled. "I'm always hungry afterwards."

She raised her head, laughing. "Well, I guess you did work up an
appetite. Why don't you go find something for us to eat?"

He nodded, then pulled her into a slow, thorough kiss before releasing
her. She climbed off the bed and padded to the bathroom, closing the
door behind her. She flipped on the light and turned on the faucet. A
few splashes of water helped relieve the heat on her face and neck.
She raised her eyes to the mirror, looking at her reflection. What she
found surprised her.

Her hair was full and mussed, forming a reddish halo around her face.
Her skin was flushed and had that shiny glow that only lovemaking
could bring. Wide eyes stared back at her, her pupils still dilated.
She looked...erotic. It was the only word she could use to describe
it.

Scully jumped when she heard a knock at the bathroom door. "Dana, you
OK?"

She swallowed, forcing her breathing to normalize. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"I just asked you if you wanted me to open a bottle of wine, but you
didn't answer."

Stealing one last glance at her reflection, she opened the door. "I'm
sorry. Yes, wine would be..."

Her voice faded when a thick, hot wind hit her in the face. The
bedroom was pitch black.

"Fox?" she called out. No answer. She took one step forward, and a
stab of pain pierced her head.

"FOX!" she screamed as she clutched her head and slipped into deep,
black sleep.


===========x===========


"Fox!"

What was meant to be a scream escaped as a hoarse whisper from Dana
Scully's lips.

Her eyes flew open and focused on a shadowed ceiling. She turned on
her side, her hand grasping the comforter below her. The outline of
her garment bag on the empty bed next to her was all the proof she
needed.

"No," she cried with more force, fighting back the tears welling in
her eyes. It was a dream, all of it.

"Scully?"

She jerked up to a sitting position, blinking back the silver flecks
flashing before her. Turning her head, she saw a figure emerge from
the darkened bathroom. As he approached the bed, his tall body awash
in soft light, she recognized him. Mulder.

Not Fox.

Mulder.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, forehead scrunched in concern.

Scully closed her eyes and leaned back against the headboard. She felt
the bed dip, then a soft touch on her arm. Her eyes snapped open.

"Do you need me to take you to the hospital?" His fingers began
stroking her arm.

"No, I'm fine. Just a little dizzy," she forced out. She wanted to
yank her arm away but his touch brought forth memories still fresh in
her mind.

"Are you sure? You've only been out for a few minutes but you really
gave me a scare. Your pulse was strong and your breathing was a little
fast but regular, so I figured I'd just keep an eye on you..."

"How did I get here?" she interrupted.

His brow furrowed. "I was in the hallway, heading for the back exit to
go for a walk, and I saw you come through the door. You took a few
steps then clutched your head and fell to the ground. After I checked
your pulse, I carried you back here." He stopped, waiting for her to
reply, then continued. "What happened, Scully?"

She found the courage to move her arm away from him, placing it across
her lap. "I...I don't remember," she whispered. She lowered her gaze
to her lap, unable to look at him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand moving toward her neck.
His long, tapered fingers brushed against the skin below her ear. She
tensed, a collage of images, sounds and feelings flashing through her
mind. The sight of his naked body over hers, the sound he made as he
exploded inside her, the feel of his mouth on her skin...

"Don't," she pleaded in a whisper-soft tone.

Mulder lowered his hand. "I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?" She forced herself to look at him.

"The bruise. You have a nasty bruise right below your ear."

Her hand went to her neck. The skin was tender. "I must have gotten it
when I fell."

Mulder shook his head. "You didn't hit your neck, just the back of
your head. I saw you fall..."

He kept talking but she wasn't listening. She had to see the bruise.

"Mulder, I'm fine. I...I must have passed out from not eating." She
shifted on the bed, waiting for him to move away, but he stayed.

"Scully, you don't look so good. Maybe we should have you checked
out..."

"No," she said harshly, immediately regretting her tone as she saw him
flinch. Her face softened. "Why don't you order us some food. I want
to take a look at this in a mirror."

He nodded and moved away from the bed, walking to a phone on the
nearby desk. She rose from the bed on shaky legs. She noticed her
stomach muscles were sore, as if she had done too many sit-ups. Other
muscle groups were sore as well, all of them residing below her waist.

She stumbled to the bathroom and shut the door. She leaned against the
bathroom counter, her heart beating frantically. Could her aching
muscles be psychosomatic pains brought on by her vivid dream? It was
possible. She knew of cases where the alleged victim's imagination
created such a realistic image, they were convinced the injuries
occurred though no physical evidence existed. That had to be the case
with her. The pain was a product of her mind.

Then she remembered the bruise.

She stared into the mirror and turned her head to the side. Just below
her left ear was a quarter-size bruise, the flesh a mottled purplish-
red tone. Mulder was right; the bruise was at so odd an angle she
couldn't have received it from a fall to the ground.

Scully could still feel his soft lips on her neck, and the incredible
sensation as he sucked hard on her delicate skin. She shuddered and
dropped her head, letting her neck go limp. It didn't happen. It
couldn't have happened.

Pennsylvania, what they had done, the heights he had taken her
to...all of it was a dream.

Here, the shabby hotel in Mississippi, with her partner in the other
room...this was reality.

Like steel to a magnet, her hand was drawn back to the spot below her
ear. *Nothing happened, Dana. It wasn't The Wish. It was just a
fantasy.*

Wasn't it?



END PART 4
END OF 'THE WISH I'

===========x===========
===========x===========



T H E  W I S H  I I:  A L L  T H E  C O L O R S
by viXen  <xfvixen@geocities.com>

===========x===========
Summary: Mulder takes a drive that sends him on an unexpected journey.
Classification: SRA
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance, alternate universe
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: Takes place on March 17, 1996. No Season 4 stuff here.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. They belong to CC,
1013 and Fox.
===========x===========


PART 1
------


Plump raindrops pummeled the windshield like angry fists trying to
beat their way into the car. The swish of the windshield wipers
created a mesmerizing metronomic rhythm that threatened to send the
driver into slumberland.

Fox Mulder shook the sleepy fog from his head and reached for the
radio dial. He winced as some cowboy whined about how his wife left
him, his dog left him and his pickup truck was his only friend.
Scanning the dial, the agent realized the radio station variety in
Rainbow's End, Mississippi consisted of country, easy listening, a
Bible-thumping sermon by an overly enthusiastic evangelist and, yes,
more country.

Disgusted, Mulder turned off the radio. He scanned the scenery as it
whizzed by him, and out of the corner of his eye he spotted a sign at
the side of the road:

Rainbow's End Pass  -  2 miles

He swore if he saw the name 'Rainbow's End' on one more building or
road sign, he was going to shoot someone. Everything in this God-
forsaken town had 'Rainbow's End' stenciled or painted or engraved on
it. Wasn't the 'rainbow's end' supposed to have a pot of gold waiting?
Mulder snickered. A pot of something waited at the end of Rainbow's
End, but it wasn't filled with gold. The town had the dubious
distinction of housing the county landfill, and nauseating wafts of
rotting garbage traveled through town when the wind was just right.

The agents discovered something else rotten in this little slice of
Americana: three mysterious and unusual abductions in a one-month
period, all girls between the ages of eight and ten. Two of them taken
while their older brothers slept in the next room, baby-sitting their
younger sisters while their parents were away.

As each detail of the case unfolded, Mulder felt his resolve crack,
breaking off in small chunks and crumbling at his feet. Jabs of pain
traveled through his entire body when he and Scully questioned the
anguished parents of the missing children. The sheriff's crude and
accusatory questioning of one older brother was the final blow and it
sent Mulder into a blinding rage. Had Scully not been there, he'd have
decked the officer, or worse.

Immediately after the confrontation, the iron walls of Mulder's mental
fortress slammed into place and he regressed into himself, pushing
Scully away as he had done so many times before. This time, however,
she was returning the favor. Shortly after returning to the hotel, she
had fainted. She gave him the half-hearted excuses of hunger and
exhaustion, and he might have bought it except for her immediate shift
in personality. He was used to the emotional distance she insisted on
putting between them when she was scared, but when her whole body went
rigid as he brushed his fingers across the bruise on her neck, his
heart sagged.

Something had happened to her, something that shook her to her very
foundation. She refused to talk to him and it felt like a knife
piercing his heart, hurting him far deeper than he could admit. When
he had checked on her before setting out in the car, she was sleeping,
curled up on her side hugging one of her pillows. Asleep, her face
robbed of its mask of composure, she looked like a child in the midst
of a nightmare, her brow tense and riddled with worry lines.

Mulder never wondered why she continued to stand by his side when all
it seemed to bring her was nightmares, both in reality and in dreams.
He was too selfish a man for those concerns. He needed Dana Scully,
plain and simple. He needed her to cover his ass and stimulate his
mind, to be his partner and his friend. He needed her emotionally,
intellectually and spiritually.

And physically, but only in dreams.

Mulder blinked away the mental fog as the car approached a wooden
bridge. The worn, dilapidated sign next to the guardrail proclaimed it
'Rainbow's End Pass'. He smirked as he read the smaller writing under
at the bottom of the sign: 'Cross the Pass into another world.'

"You got that right," he mused. "This place is definitely in another
world." He stepped on the gas again and urged the car forward. The
Taurus bounced erratically on its suspension system as it rolled over
the uneven wooden beams. His eyes darted to the dashboard clock.
11:21pm.

When he raised his eyes back to the road, two bright orbs filled his
line of sight. Headlights, he surmised, from a monolithic vehicle. A
semi-truck, perhaps? A tiny twinge of panic rose up his spine. If it
was a semi, the bridge wasn't wide enough for the both of them. Mulder
honked the horn as an alert to the driver but the ominous vehicle
continued to close the distance between them at an alarmingly fast
speed.

He floored the accelerator. "Come on! Move it, you heap of shit!" he
yelled, egging the Taurus on by hitting the steering wheel and horn.
He couldn't tell but it looked like the truck had intentionally
increased its speed and angled itself on a collision course with
Mulder, as if playing some twisted game of 'chicken'.

Mulder swallowed. He wasn't going to make it. The truck was going to
hit him.

*Oh God. Not like this. I can't die like this.*

The vehicle's lights flashed violently, becoming impossibly bright,
and blinded Mulder. He swerved and heard the scream of scraping metal
as the Taurus connected with the guardrail of the bridge.

Mulder's last thought as he closed his eyes, bracing himself for
impact, was of Dana Scully.


===========x===========


Opening his eyes, Mulder looked through the windshield. As far as he
could tell, the semi-truck had missed him. The front end of the car
looked intact and unblemished except for dried waterspots. The rain,
which had dissipated, left only a humid breeze and thin cottony clouds
behind.

"Is this Heaven?" His gaze dropped to the steering wheel and fell upon
the familiar Ford logo. "Nope, must be Hell. I'm still driving a
Taurus."

Mulder moved the rearview mirror and eyed himself carefully. No blood,
no bruises, not a scratch. Except for a pounding, king-sized headache,
he escaped unscathed. The dizziness had subsided so he ventured out of
the car, leaving the engine running. He walked around the front of the
car to the passenger side and his eyes widened at what he found.

Nothing, not one scratch in the car's paint.

Mulder shook his head and his brow furrowed in confusion. How could
that be? He had felt the impact with the guardrail and had heard the
fingernails-on-a-chalkboard squealing of metal against metal. He was
tired, but could he have been so tired as to imagine all of it?

Mulder went back to the driver's side and dropped into the seat. What
the hell happened? He turned on the overhead light and his eyes went
to the rearview mirror again, taking a longer look at himself. His
face looked thinner, his cheeks more sallow and skin paler. The five
o'clock shadow adorning his face earlier that evening was gone, yet he
hadn't shaved in over twelve hours.

*What the...* A wild theory slammed into his head like a runaway
freight train. Maybe those lights weren't headlights at all.

He frantically searched for the dashboard clock. He sighed in disgust.
11:26pm. Five minutes after he started over the bridge. And about the
right amount of time for him to exit the car and survey the non-
existent damage to the Taurus' exterior.

No missing time. So much for that theory.

Leaning his head back on the headrest, Mulder collected his thoughts.
Something had happened to him when he crossed that bridge. He ran his
right hand through his hair then let his arm go limp, letting it flop
onto the passenger seat. His eyes snapped open when his hand came in
contact with something. Looking down, he found a green file folder
sitting next to him. He knew the file hadn't been there when he left
the hotel.

He grabbed the folder and opened it, discovering pages of reports and
a case number. An X-Files case number. Flipping through the folder, he
found an expense report and receipts. He read through them: One plane
ticket for Fox Mulder to Mississippi, one room at the Rainbow's End
Motel reserved for Fox Mulder, one rental car signed out to Fox
Mulder. No mention of Scully in any of the papers. Scully had
completed all of the forms for the case in Rainbow's End. Why had he
filled out a second expense report? And why didn't he remember filling
it out?

His mind spiraled farther into confusion as he read the rest of the
folder's contents. The case in front of him had nothing to do with the
disappearance of three girls. The dates on the paperwork matched, so
it wasn't an old case file. According to the papers in his hands, he
was in Rainbow's End to investigate the brutal, cult-like murders of
three local residents.

A small sliver of paper fell from the file folder and floated to the
seat. In his consistently sloppy penmanship was an address, directions
and the words 'three more'. Considering he had no clue what was going
on, Mulder reread the directions, put the car in gear and drove in the
direction of what he hoped were some answers.



END PART 1


===========x===========
===========x===========


PART 2
------


The cottage, its age evident in the peeling paint and worn wood porch,
stood sorely out of place amidst the chaotic rainbow of colors:
strobing red and blue lights, yellow police tape, tan county sheriff's
uniforms. Black body bags. As he approached, Mulder thought the scene
looked like the Wizard of Oz house dropping down in the middle of a
scene from 'NYPD Blue'.

He flashed his badge to the uniformed officer and stepped under the
tape. As he climbed the front porch steps, the coppery scent of blood
drifted into his nostrils. He continued into the house, stopping at
the entrance to the living room. Streaks of blood had been
methodically applied to one wall, giving it a gruesomely striped
wallpaper effect. Four men, two uniformed and two in plain clothes,
stood near the center of the room, their heads lowered. Mulder could
see a thin stream of dark red in the beige carpeting angling out from
the huddle of men. Mulder heard snippets of conversations, catching
words like "so much blood", "sickos" and "damn cultists".

A female voice quieted the men, cutting through their murmurs like a
knife through silk. "Excuse me, but could you all _please_ stand back.
I need some room to work." Mulder watched as the four men looked at
each other, shoulders shrugging and heads shaking, then scattered.
Left crouched over a bloodied male body was a woman, her red hair a
stark contrast to her white lab coat. The woman stood,  and with her
back to Mulder, she removed the coat, draping it over her arm. Her
head turned to the side, giving Mulder a split-second view of the
woman's chiseled profile.

A split-second was all it took.

Hair the color of a copper penny swept up off her delicate neck, thin
tendrils of loose curls framing her face. Her dress, all black and
modestly cut, exuded the words 'class' and 'elegance' while whispering
'sensuous'.

He was so enraptured by her that he flinched when a tall, paunchy man
walked in front of him, blocking his view of the woman. "You Fox
Mulder?" he asked, his voice peppered with a light Southern accent.

"Yeah." He shook the man's extended hand, and waited for the toupee on
the guy's head to get up and crawl away at any moment. The black mass
on his head brought new meaning to the words 'bad rug'.

"Bill Adams, Mississippi Field Office." He handed Mulder a pile of
folders. "Thanks for coming. This one has us tongue tied and the
sheriff has his panties in a wad over the press we're getting out
here."

Mulder nodded. "What is she doing here? How did she get here before
me?" He pointed to the redhead squatting next the body.

Adams' face contorted in confusion. "Maybe she has a faster car than
you." He chuckled at his own joke. "She asked to be called if there
were any more victims. The coroner's office is catching a lot of heat,
too."

"The coroner? But..." Mulder's voice trailed off. A closer look at her
revealed the hairs framing her face were long, longer than Scully's
current hairstyle. Her face was...younger. He had noticed the laugh
lines and dark circles slowly creep into her complexion over the
period of their partnership. It was a gradual transformation, not
something he noticed on a daily basis, but seeing this Scully before
him, he realized what their partnership had done to her. It had aged
her far beyond her years, both physically and spiritually.

The Scully before him now looked like the young sprite that had
knocked on his basement door four years ago, blowing into his office -
- and his life -- like a cool tropical breeze with the attitude of a
hurricane.

Mulder blinked twice. Where was he and why was Scully not Scully?
Well, she _was_ Scully but not the Scully he knew. Or was she?

"That's Dana Scully, right?" Mulder asked, finally able to pull his
eyes away from her.

Adams nodded. "Yeah, you know her?"

"I thought I did," Mulder mumbled. "How long has she been the coroner
here?"

Adams raised a hand to his head and scratched by one temple. Mulder
tried not to laugh as the toupee wiggled with the motion. "Doc
Scully's been the M.E. 'bout four years now, I figure. Moved here
right after my youngest graduated from high school."

Four years. The length of their partnership. A partnership that didn't
exist here, wherever _here_ was. What the hell was going on?

His psychologist's brain kicked in. *I must be dreaming.* A lucid
dream, one where he was awake in the dream and realized he was
dreaming. He couldn't recall ever experiencing one so vivid, but he
knew it was possible. The thought both excited and unnerved him.

Adrenaline traveled through Mulder's body at lightening speed. He
decided with conviction to follow this dream wherever it lead. Dreams
were a window to the mind and he wanted the window to remain open and
easily accessible. Dreams were a way for the subconscious to
communicate hidden thoughts, hidden concerns, hidden desires...

His breath caught as Dr. Scully bent to pick up her lab coat, which
had slipped from her arm while she spoke with a uniformed officer. Her
dress, already cut just above the knee, cinched up slightly, revealing
a touch more of her shapely thighs.

Adams smirked at Mulder's expression. "Whoa, reign in the horses,
buddy. She may look like an angelfish but she's a barracuda in
disguise. She'll rip your balls off and serve them to you a la mode."

Mulder ignored Adams' comment and brushed past him, approaching the
'new' Scully with caution and wonder.

"Dr. Scully?"

"Yes?" Her eyes and hands remained on a clipboard overflowing with
papers.

"I'm Agent Mulder with the FBI. Agent Adams called me in..."

"I'm well aware of why you're here," she said in an even, measured
voice. "Adams can fill you in and get you copies of my reports. As
soon as I'm done with these autopsies, I'll make my findings available
to you."

A grin flirted with Mulder's lips. The hair may be longer and the face
younger, but the no-nonsense attitude was the same. Some things never
change.

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like your preliminary observations on these
latest victims," he replied calmly. Out of the corner of his eye, he
saw Adams approaching him, his arms flailing in front of him as a
signal to Mulder to stop. Mulder waved him off and continued. "I
realize you're busy but I think it would benefit us both to work
together."

Her body tensed and he could feel the anger wafting off her body in
heated waves. Adams winced and crossed his hands over his crotch.
Scully's head slowly raised but she remained with her back to the
agents. Mulder took in the rigidity in her spine and noted she looked
much taller than five-foot-three.

"Listen, Mr...Mulder, is it?" she started as she slowly turned to face
him. "You're on my turf. You play by my rules. I will give you my
reports when..."

Her voice faded with the catch of her breath. For a moment, her eyes
widened, a look of panic in her clear blue-green eyes. "My God, it's
you," she whispered.

He wanted to look away but was helpless to avert his eyes. These were
Scully's eyes, but they weren't. They were different somehow. Mulder
couldn't pinpoint the reason why he thought that, but something in her
eyes pulled him in and wouldn't let go.

His mouth formed words before his brain could intervene. "Yes, it's
me."

His words caused an immediate change in her expression. If he listened
close enough, he swore he could hear her mental shields slamming into
place. Her eyes never left his but their color changed, sharpening
with defiance and illuminating with that Scully air of
professionalism.

Adams broke the mood by injecting a cough into the silence. "Hey, Doc?
Mulder here's from the X-Files division. Thinks we may have something
'otherworldly' going on."

Mulder bit back a grin as he saw one reddish-brown eyebrow leave
formation and jet up toward her hairline.

"Oh, really?" Her voice was laced with a hint of sarcasm. "And just
what is so 'otherworldly' about three victims who were stabbed
repeatedly and had their blood splattered around their house?"

"That's what I'm here to find out," Mulder replied, not missing a
beat. "I'm not sure about otherworldly but I don't think this is the
work of a cult."

"How can you rule out this being the work of cultists?" she
challenged. "The placement of the bodies, the methodical splattering
of the victim's blood on the wall, the right pinkie finger of each
victim severed and placed in their left hand. All of that evidence,
along with the fact we have a band of Satanists terrorizing the next
town over, points to ritualistic murder."

Mulder could feel the adrenaline pumping through his body, the same
way it always did when he and Scully engaged in their own unique brand
of verbal intercourse.

"If these murders were commited at the hands of a Satanic cult,"
Mulder replied, "they would most likely follow the Satantic calendar.
These do not. Have there been any reports of missing animals in the
area? Dogs, cats, goats?"

Adams chimed in. "A few animals have disappeared from farms and houses
since the Satanists showed up about six months ago."

Mulder nodded. "And that's what normally happens. Sacrifices are
generally animals, not humans. I'm guessing these animals disappeared
near the end of October and possibly in December. Samhain, or
Halloween, is one of their most important holidays, as are the
solstices and equinoxes. The winter solstice is in December."

Adams stroked his chin. "Yeah, now that I think about it, we did get
the first report around Halloween. I'll check on the others, but I'll
bet they were in December. They've been pretty quiet lately, and there
haven't been any humans involved. Until now."

"Maybe they were working their way up," Scully said dryly.

"No, Satanists generally don't practice on animals and move on to
bigger and better things," he offered. "More likely, this is the work
of a serial killer."

"I thought those two went hand in hand," Scully said with a shrug.

"One would think that," Mulder replied, his eyes locking with
Scully's. "But there has been no concrete evidence connecting Satan
worshipping and serial killers. Generally speaking, for every one who
does claim a link to the Devil, there are dozens of serial murderers
who do not."

Scully tilted her head to the side. "You seem to know your Satan
worshippers, Agent Mulder. A hobby of yours?"

He fought to keep from grinning. "I've done considerable research into
the correlation between serial killers and the occult." He paused as
he pointed to the mutilated body before them. "But autopsies aren't my
specialty, so I'd value your professional opinion about these murders
as compared to the earlier ones."

She sucked in a deep breath, but otherwise remained emotionless. "In
the interest of time, I suppose I could give you a preliminary run-
down so you can start your investigation. Let me get my notes from my
car."

"I'd appreciate that, Dr. Scully," he said with a nod. He watched her
leave, admiring the lithe movements of her body as she walked.

"How did you do that?" Adams asked as soon as the coroner was out of
earshot.

Mulder turned to the agent. "Do what?"

"That," he replied, pointing in Scully's direction. "How'd you make
Dr. Ice melt like that? Any of us tried copping an attitude like that
with her, we'd be singing soprano. Just about every guy in the county
building has tried to get a piece of her but she's not interested.
Rumor has it she doesn't take a fancy to men, if you know what I
mean." Adams added an elbow nudge to Mulder's arm to drive home his
point.

Mulder bristled. The "good ol' boys" network was in rare form here and
because she didn't play their he-man games, Dr. Dana Scully was an
unwelcome addition. His eyes darted around the room and he realized
she was the only woman involved in the investigation.

He turned to Adams. "Dr. Scully's sexual orientation is not a concern
of mine, neither should it be concern of yours," Mulder said in a
barely restrained voice. "What _is_ my concern is the fact that I know
of Dr. Scully's work and she is the most proficient pathologist I've
ever encountered."

"Well, yeah, she's an OK doc," Adams blurted out, "but..."

"But nothing, Adams," Mulder hissed as he slammed one of the folders
into Adams' chest. "Perhaps if you didn't spend so much time figuring
out how to get under Dr. Scully's skirt, maybe you could see that her
thoroughness and expertise is going to save your ass."

"Hey," Adams sputtered, "I didn't...I..."

He shot Adams his best 'you disgust me' look and walked away, leaving
the agent to choke on his lame excuses. Mulder left the house and
walked to the coroner's van, where he found Scully flipping through
papers on her clipboard. A skeleton-thin man, whose t-shirt had
'Roger' embroidered on the pocket, took a few papers from Scully's
hand, then jogged to the driver's side and started the van. Mulder
noted Roger looked barely old enough to drive, let alone work for the
medical examiner's office.

"The dress code in Mississippi must be hell on your dry cleaning
bills," Mulder said, standing behind Scully.

She turned to face him. "I'm sorry?"

"Your dress," he replied with a nod. "All the pathologists I know tend
to dress down when they go to work."

The beginnings of a blush started along her cheekbones and he could
see her valiantly trying to ignore it. "I was on my way home from a
charity auction when my pager went off."

"No rest for the weary, eh?"

"No, not since these murders," she said, shaking her head. "My staff
and I have been running ragged trying to find a lead."

He nodded knowingly and was about to respond when he noticed Roger had
returned with the second clipboard.

"Just one more paper, Dr. S, and we'll be ready to roll."

Mulder watched as she signed her name in that perfect Scully script
that graced hundreds of reports in his office filing cabinets. She
gave the clipboard back to the enthusiastic youngster.

Roger nodded to her car. "You gonna follow us?"

Before she could answer, Mulder spoke up. "Dr. Scully, I'd really like
to talk to you. I won't take up much of your time. My background is in
psychology and profiling serial killers. I'd like to ask you a few
things about the autopsies of the first three victims."

Mulder could see the battle ensuing behind her eyes. Her duty was with
transporting the bodies, but he had piqued her curiosity. He knew she
would never admit it, but Dana Scully's appetite for answers was
almost as voracious as his.

Roger came to the rescue. "Hey, Dr. S, no prob. Dr. Ginter's still
there. He was about head home but we got the call and he said there's
no way he was leaving now. He can take receipt of the bodies and we
can prep and beep you."

She shook her head. "No, I should be there..."

"Please, Dr. Scully. Just fifteen minutes. That's all I need." Mulder
threw in his best forlorn look, the one he knew Scully could rarely
resist. He watched her features soften.

*Bingo!*

"Roger, you page me twenty minutes before prepping is complete, do you
hear me?"

The young man gave Scully a mock salute and a "Yes, ma'am!" before
running to the front of the van.

"All right, Agent Mulder," she said, crossing her arms under her
breasts. "What do you want to know?"

"Is there somewhere we could go and sit down? I'd like to go over your
notes."

Scully lifted a hand to her chin. "Are you staying in Rainbow's End?"

"Yes, at the..."

"...Rainbow's End Motel," she interrupted. "It's the only place in
town." She paused, thoughtfully stroking her jawline. "There's a all-
night diner about halfway between here and my office. If you wouldn't
mind driving that far, I'd really like to be close by when they page
me."

"That's fine." He gestured to her car. "Lead the way, Dr. S."

She graced him with polite smile before walking to her car. Mulder
walked away, running a hand through his tousled hair. He still had no
idea what was going on, but he had a feeling he was going to have one
hell of an adventure finding out.



END PART 2


===========x===========
===========x===========


PART 3
------


"So, how did you end up in Mississippi?" He took a sip of coffee, then
pursed his lips.  Java strong enough to put hair on your chest.  Just
the way he liked it.

Business talk had taken less than half an hour, so he moved into
casual small talk. All of his senses were heightened; sight, smell,
taste... all of them. Something he knew was unusual for a dream, but
he refused to pursue it. The need to know far outweighed the questions
raised in his head.

An overwhelming surge of curiosity spread through his body like a wind-
driven wildfire. He had to know everything about her, why she was here
and why her life had changed. She was Scully, but a _different_
Scully. There was a reason why he was meant to see Scully in this
different light. His mind, his subconscious, was trying to tell him
something about her, about their relationship. But what?

"I moved out here about four years ago to be with my fiance," she
replied. "He works for the District Attorney's office in Jackson."

Mulder stopped breathing. "You're _married_?"

"No," she replied, lowering her head. "I...it didn't work out."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Scully," he said with as much sincerity as he could
muster.

"I'm not," she bit out before realizing what she had said. She
flinched slightly. "I apologize, Mr. Mulder..."

He raised a hand to stop her. "Not a problem. And call me Mulder."

"Not Fox?" Her eyebrow arched.

"No. I prefer Mulder."

She nodded but didn't push any further. "Please call me Dana." She
looked down at her mug, finding her coffee utterly fascinating. "I
didn't mean to sound so harsh."

"And I didn't mean to pry. I was just wondering how someone with your
expertise ended up..." He motioned out the window.

"...in a hellhole like this?" she finished with a bitter smile. "After
I...we called off the wedding, I was too proud and too embarrassed to
go home, and this job basically fell into my lap. I thought I would
use the position to gain more experience and to pay the bills until
something better came along."

His eyes met hers for an instant and he could see the unhappiness in
their depths. He waited patiently for her to continue, wanting to ask
a barrage of questions but not wanting to break the spell. Scully was
never one to open herself like a book in front of him and he was
afraid if he pushed, she would slam the book shut.

She smiled briefly, a warm smile free of sarcasm. "I'm sorry, Mulder.
You came here to talk about the case, not to hear about my personal
life."

He returned the smile. "I don't mind, really. I admire you for your
attitude. Dealing with chauvinistic morons like Adams must grate on
you like a slow-dripping faucet."

She laughed, the melodic sound filling his ears. "Yes, Agent Adams
believes all women should be barefoot and pregnant, not necessarily in
that order."

"How do you put up with that?" he asked, his voice serious.

Her expression turned somber. "What doesn't break us only makes us
stronger. I deal with it because I know my work makes a difference.
_I_ make a difference. This job has given me the chance to distinguish
myself, something I don't think I could do as an assistant coroner in
a big city."

His chest swelled with pride at her words. She was so strong, the
strongest person he knew. When faced with adversity, Dana Scully never
backed down. She faced it head-on, baring her teeth, ready to conquer
any obstacle in her path.

He hated to do it, but his mind wouldn't leave well enough alone. He
had to throw her a curve ball. "Can I ask you something?"

"I guess so," she replied cautiously.

"Earlier when we met, you said 'It's you.' What did you mean by that?"

Her eyes widened for a millisecond, then she lifted her head slightly.
"Nothing. I...thought you were someone else. I was mistaken."

The Scully Lie. Something he could always spot a mile away. Even when
she uttered her all-purpose "I'm fine," he never missed the minuscule
lifting of her chin, as if to say, "I can handle this on my own. I
don't need your pity or your sympathy." So independent, his Scully.

Wait a minute. _His_ Scully? When did he start referring to her as
_his_ Scully? He pushed the thought from his head, wanting to pursue
his initial line of questioning.

"You thought I was who?" he pressed.

"No one. Like I said, I was... oh!" she gasped as her pager started
vibrating on the table. She grabbed the black plastic square and
looked at the display. "Prepping must almost be done. I have to get
back."

"I'll walk you to your car," he said without thinking. He threw a few
dollar bills on the table and grabbed the file folders. Following her
out the door, he unconsciously placed his hand on her back, the same
spot he always did. She stiffened at his touch but said nothing.

"If you don't mind, Dana," he said as they walked through the parking
lot, "I'd like to forego the autopsies."

"Most do," she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"It's nothing like that," he countered. "I'm not squeamish. I'd just
like to go over the police reports more thoroughly."

She smiled wryly. "Sure, Mulder. That's fine."

He stopped walking, planting his feet firmly. "Hey, I've attended
plenty of autopsies, hundreds probably."

She continued to walk, looking at him over her shoulder. "I'm sure you
have, Mulder. But just so you know, autopsies of 'otherwordly' beings
don't count."

With her head turned to the side, Scully missed seeing the headlights
of the car barreling through the parking lot. The car that had her
directly in its path.

"Dana!" He ran to her, closing the distance between them in four giant
steps. He grabbed her coat and pulled her to him, holding her body
close to his. The car passed, slowing only long enough for its
occupants to sling obscenities at them. He couldn't help noticing the
scent of alcohol emanating from the open windows.

Mulder looked down at her, his hand stroking her back. "Are you all
right?"

"Yes," she said shakily. "I'm fine."

As he looked into Scully's eyes, the line from a movie played in his
head, a movie he saw only once, while he was at Oxford. The movie,
"Risky Business", didn't particularly strike a chord with him, except
for one line: "Sometimes you have to say 'What the fuck' and make your
move." His eyes followed an imaginary line down to her mouth. He
nearly groaned aloud as the tip of her pink tongue darted out to wet
her lips.

*What the fuck.*

Mulder angled his mouth over hers, barely touching her soft lips. A
quick, feather-light kiss. She stiffened in his embrace and he thought
she might pull away. He held his ground, though, neither decreasing
nor increasing the pressure of his lips upon hers. After a few
seconds, he felt her hands move to his chest, grasping the lapels of
his coat.

Then she sighed in his mouth, a whisper-soft sound that bypassed his
ears and headed straight to his groin.

He pulled her closer, snaking one arm around her waist and moving one
to support her neck while he angled her head and deepened the kiss. He
felt her body relax against his, and her hands slid up his chest to
rest on his shoulders. Her mouth opened and he flicked his tongue at
hers, savoring her flavor as if given the chance to taste the
forbidden fruit. She was that to him, the forbidden fruit, and now he
was finally able to sample her sweetness. A delicacy, one of which he
would never be able to get enough.

Reluctantly, Mulder broke the contact, wondering if he had just made a
big mistake. *Nothing that feels _that_ good could be a mistake,* he
thought as he fought to control his breathing. He slowly opened his
eyes to find her lips slightly parted, swollen and glistening from the
kiss. He watched as her eyes fluttered open. She stared up at him, her
eyes clouded and unfocused at first. Then the realization must have
set in as her eyes widened in a heartbeat.

He wasn't sure if it was fear or anger he saw in the intense blue
irises. Regardless, he was relieved that this Scully didn't carry a
gun.

Mulder released her from the embrace. "Dana, I...I'm sorry. I don't
know why I did..."

Both jumped back when a robust car horn blared next to them. Neither
had realized they were standing in the middle of a throughway for the
parking lot. They parted, opening enough distance between them for the
king-cab truck to pass. Mulder nervously ran a hand through his hair
then signaled the driver to continue. He couldn't hear what the man
said but he was sure it wasn't a friendly welcome to Mississippi.

Mulder's eyes followed the truck as it passed. When he turned back,
Scully was gone. He could see her at her car, unlocking the door. He
stared at her, willing her to look his way.

She never looked back.

He watched with confusion and sadness in his eyes as her car sped from
the parking lot.


===========x===========


He was tired. So tired. And very confused.

His Scully, in a different city, a different job, a different life.
Still the best at what she does, still working to make a difference
despite the adversity she faced each day, still wrapped in that nearly
impenetrable cocoon of science. Still strong, brilliant and beautiful.

But different.

Yawning, Mulder stripped down to his boxers, then grabbed a file
folder and flopped onto the motel room bed. He opened the folder and
began reading. The first page was the police report on what he had
seen earlier. The words didn't do justice to the horror he'd seen. On
paper, it seemed so flat, so unimportant.

Mulder kept reading, the words blurring together with each added
paragraph.  He yawned again, sleep insistently surrounding him despite
his attempts to counteract its pull. His eyelids felt heavier with
each blink. Maybe he could just rest his eyes for a minute...

His eyes snapped open at the soft click of the door's lock. He reached
for his gun on the nightstand as the door opened. A flash of red and
black entered the room, the face hidden by the shadows cast by the
lone light in the room, a cheap lamp next to the bed. He leaned
forward and trained his gun on the intruder, his hand hugging the
black metal, thumb poised on the hammer and forefinger ready on the
trigger.

Then she turned to face him. Her tiny frame was shrouded in a black
trenchcoat several sizes too big, the length scraping the ground as
she walked.

He lowered the gun and released the breath he had been holding.
"Jesus, Dana. You scared me. How did you..."

Mulder's jaw dropped as she opened the coat and let it fall to the
floor. She stood before him, dressed in a floor-length satin nightgown
in a deep, rich shade of green. The bodice fit her like a glove and
hugged her breasts, the silk's smoothness interrupted only by the
peaking of her taut nipples. The skirt of the gown flowed lightly
around the curves of her hips and rippled in waves of jade as she
slowly approached. When she reached the edge of the bed, he was
hypnotized by her eyes, two onyx discs surrounded by thin rings of
turquoise, her need clearly displayed in their smoky depths.

"It _is_ you. I knew you would come," she whispered as she placed her
hands on his chest, pushing him down on the bed.

"Dana, I..." His words ended in a gasp as she claimed his mouth with
hers, her tongue stabbing at his lips. On a moan, he parted his lips,
allowing her entrance. As her tongue performed a thorough examination
of his mouth, her fingernails scraped a trail from his chest down to
his abdomen. Her hands left him briefly, only to return to the
waistband of his boxers. Instinctively, he lifted his hips and soon
felt the confining cotton material move down his legs and off his
body.

She drew back from him mid-kiss, leaving him breathless and confused.
He opened his mouth to speak but she raised a finger to her lips,
signaling him to be silent. Raising an arm, he reached for her but she
shook her head and took two steps back from the bed, leaving herself
just out of his arm's reach. His eyes found hers, still seeing desire
there but with an added playfulness. He smiled and lowered his hand to
the bed.

She wanted to play, and he was more than game. The questions could
wait.

Her hand went to the thin strap of the nightgown, slowly pushing it
aside and letting the scrap of silk slide down her arm. He reached out
again but she shook her head. Once he placed his hand back on the bed,
she lowered the other strap. She dropped both arms to her sides and
the gown slid down her body in one fluid motion.

Dear God, she was beautiful! Smooth peaches-and-cream skin, lightly
dusted with light brown freckles. More lines and curves than his mind
could comprehend. His eyes fell upon the nest of reddish-brown curls
settled at the 'v' where her thighs met her torso. He swallowed hard
and raised his eyes back to hers.

Mulder watched as she took her turn, letting her eyes skim over his
form. He could feel her gaze hot against his skin, burning a trail
from his chest down to where her eyes lingered, and had been lingering
for several seconds. A silly grin of pride swept across his face as he
realized what was holding her gaze so intensively.

Simultaneously, their eyes met again. She placed one knee on the bed,
then the other. Mulder's eyes widened as he watched her approach him
on all fours, slinking toward him like a panther stalking her prey.
She stopped as his arm raised to touch her hair. Grabbing his wrist,
she flicked her tongue at his index finger, laving it then grazing it
with her teeth. His attempt at biting back a moan proved unsuccessful
as her lips closed tightly around his finger and she began sucking,
pulling it deeper into her mouth. Her name leapt from his lips in a
strained cry.

The bed shifted and he gasped as she straddled his chest, the weight
of her body settling on his abdomen. His hands went to her waist,
trying to urge her closer. She smiled and lowered her head, her tongue
snaking out and licking at his throat and collarbone. He could smell
her, a whiff of peaches from her hair, then an underlying musky scent,
something obviously female. A female aroused.

With a groan he gave himself fully to her, letting his hands drop to
the bed and giving her free reign over his body. Soft, open-mouthed
kisses wet his skin, leaving a tingling coolness behind. She started
at his throat and continued down his chest and stomach, her lips and
tongue leaving no patch of skin untouched.

His mind spun with the realization that he was receiving a tongue bath
from his partner. Dana Scully, Skeptic to his Believer, was exploring
every inch of his body with her mouth. Suddenly, breathing became as
difficult as trying to get Scully to believe that a man's shadow could
kill.

He felt a pinch on the inside of his thigh and his eyes opened to find
her kneeling between his legs, her eyes and mouth smiling at him. Her
head dropped and her tongue darted out, sweeping up the length of him.
He growled something incoherent even to himself and his eyes closed.
Again, her fingers pinched the tender skin on his inner thigh. His
eyes opened and locked with hers. This time he couldn't have looked
away if he tried. Her eyes spoke to him, telling him to watch, to
anticipate her next move. As he saw her lick her lips and slowly lower
her head, he knew exactly what her next move would be and the
anticipation nearly did him in.

He cried out as she wrapped her lips around his erection, sheathing
half of his length in a humid paradise. Unable to keep his eyes open
any longer, he pushed his head back into the pillow. His hands grasped
the bed sheet, yanking it away from the mattress, crushing and
wrinkling it in his grip. He felt as if every drop of blood in his
body had left its respective vein and was rushing toward his groin.

Curiosity eventually got the better of him and he ventured a look.
Silky auburn strands tickled his thighs as her head bobbed up and
down. Deft hands stroked the sensitive skin between his legs. That
perfect little mouth closed around him, those luscious full lips
milking him...

"Ohmygod," he exhaled as his hands flew to the headboard, holding on
for dear life. The pace she had set sent him into a frenzy for
control, something of which he knew he had lost and had no hope of
regaining. His hips pumped toward her face, matching her rhythm. His
moans turned into caveman-like grunts, punctuating each thrust.

*Dana, oh God, Dana...* Was he saying that out loud? He had no idea.
He was aware of nothing but the most primal of human needs. Pleasure
became pain, only to become pleasure again a second later. Waves of
passion threatening to crash over him, sending him helplessly into a
violent undertow. He could feel her taking him deeper into her mouth,
into her throat, then back out until just the tip of him sat inside,
resting on her soft tongue. She did it again. Over and over, until he
thought he would spontaneously combust. He was so close. In, out, in,
out, inoutinoutinoutinout...

An obnoxious squawk hit him like a sharp blow to the head. Mulder sat
upright in the bed, his mind foggy from sleep.

Sleep?

A second squawk answered his question and he replied with a groan,
realizing it was the telephone. He looked around the room, searching
for some sign that she had been there but found nothing. He sniffed
the air in the room but found no lingering scent of peaches. Or
Scully.

Papers from the disheveled file folder stuck to his sweat-soaked arm
and he peeled them from his skin. He ran a shaky hand over his face
and grabbed for the phone on the third ring.

"Whoever you are, this had better be good," he growled into the
receiver.

His ear met with silence and he opened his mouth, ready to read the
riot act to the person on the other end, when a familiar voice melted
his anger.

"It's important enough for me to call you at this ungodly hour." She
was using her business voice, her tone reserved but pleasant, and
undoubtedly professional.

"Uh, sorry. I...sorry, Dana. I was asleep. I was really out of it," he
replied as he shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his groin aching from
a pressure of volcanic proportions. "What did you find?"

"It has to do with evidence on the last set of victims. I can give you
a brief overview over the phone."

"No," he said quickly. "I'll be there as soon as I...uh, shower." He
gave himself a mental pat on the back for his quick cover. "I have
something I'd like to show you, too. Something in one of the police
reports."

"Good," she replied, "you can show me yours when you get here."

A whimper escaped from his lips before he could stop it. He squeezed
his eyes shut and clenched his fists. *Think ice hockey, monster truck
rally, Frohike in a Speedo...*

"Mulder, are you OK?"

His eyes snapped open. "Uh, yeah. Just...stubbed my toe. I'll see you
in about twenty minutes, Dana."

He replaced the receiver on its cradle, not waiting for her reply. He
had a more pressing engagement, and it was pressing against his boxers
so forcefully the elastic waistband stood an inch away from his body.
Major Wood was saluting him with a vengeance.

"Shit."

He headed for the bathroom, fully aware that no amount of cold water
was going to relieve his current predicament. Carefully peeling away
the boxers, he climbed into the shower and turned on the water. He
braced himself with one hand against the cool tile; his other hand
wrapped around his painful erection and squeezed.

Five rough jerks from his own hand was all it took. He came so hard he
thought he would pass out. As his body shuddered in release, her name
became a mantra inside his head, alongside the image of her beautiful
auburn-tressed head between his legs.

Mulder waited for the waves crashing through his body to subside
before moving his hand from the tile. He doused himself with the hot
streams of water, the results of his handiwork flowing off his groin
and legs, spiraling in a whirlpool and plunging down the drain.



END PART 3


===========x===========
===========x===========


PART 4
------


Mulder drove in silence, his mind still reeling about what had
happened in the motel room. It was nothing short of incredible. He'd
had a dream _within_ a dream. Something he'd never experienced before,
and had heard was a rare occurrence.

He wanted to analyze every aspect of the dream, _both_ dreams. Not
only was the lucid dream vivid and life-like, but so was the dream
within. He remembered the smooth texture of her skin, the tickling on
his thighs as her hair brushed against him, the mewling sounds she
made as she took him deeper within her mouth...

He shivered. This was not a good time to be thinking those thoughts,
especially when the suit pants he'd thrown on left little room for
expansion.

After two wrong turns and going five miles out of his way, Mulder
finally pulled into the medical examiner's office parking lot, nearly
forty-five minutes after Scully had called him. The building buzzed
with activity despite the fact it was still before seven in the
morning. He looked in the windows on each door as he passed them until
he saw a flash of rich auburn. Knocking twice, he pushed through the
door.

Both occupants looked up from their work. Mulder nodded to the young
blonde-haired man on the far side of the table, then nodded and smiled
at Scully.

"Agent Mulder, this is Dr. Steve Ginter," she said, her voice muffled
by the surgical mask adorning her face.

Ginter nodded to Mulder. "I'd shake your hand, but..." His voice
trailed off as he raised his hands, which were encased in bloodied
latex gloves.

Mulder waved a hand. "Don't worry about it." He looked to Scully, who
was standing in front of him. Because the mask hid her mouth, he had
to rely on her eyes to read her expression. Clear, liquid blue with
green undertones. No anger, but evidence of exhaustion and
apprehension. Whether that had to do with the case or him, he couldn't
be sure.

"Agent Mulder, Dr. Ginter will finish up here," she stated, her voice
the model of professionalism. "If you would follow me." She headed
toward a door at the far end of the room. He followed and found that
the door led to a small hallway. At the end of the hallway was another
door, which she unlocked and pushed through, revealing a small but
uncluttered office.

His eyes bypassed the room's decor and contents, and focused on one
object perched on the government-issue metal desk. An eight-by-ten
black photo frame. Mulder recognized Scully, her mother and Melissa in
the photo. The three men were a mystery to him, however. The older man
had to be William Scully. The younger men, Mulder assumed, were the
never-present Scully brothers. It was a happy photo, smiling faces,
laughing eyes. The portrait of a happy family. A complete family.

"When was this taken?" Mulder asked casually as he pointed to the
photo.

"About a year ago," she replied. "Six months before my father died."

"I'm sorry, Dana." William Scully had died just a few months ago. At
least this Scully had a few more years with her father.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, hovering over their heads
like a dark cloud. When he was unable to stand it any longer, he
cleared his throat and was rewarded with the appropriate response from
Scully.

"Yes, the evidence bag," she blurted out, moving behind her desk to a
cabinet against the far wall. She unlocked the cabinet and withdrew a
petite plastic bag. After handing Mulder a latex glove, she gloved her
right hand and opened the plastic bag, carefully withdrawing a thin
white strand about six inches in length.

"These were found all over the two bodies I autopsied today," she said
as she placed the hair in Mulder's hand.

"What is it?" he asked as he brought it closer to his face.

"Dog hair, from a Lhasa Apso to be exact."

He gave the hair to Scully. "So?"

"This family has no pets. Earlier today, I talked with one of the
first officers on the scene, who happened to know the wife. According
to this officer, the woman had a severe allergy to pet hair and
wouldn't allow _any_ animals in her house."

Scully held the bag open as Mulder dropped the white hair into the
plastic. "Lhasa Apso is not a common breed out here. Most people have
the bigger dogs, like Retrievers or German Shepherds."

He nodded, then withdrew his cell phone. "I'm going to have Adams
check with every veterinarian in a fifty-mile radius for any clients
who own that breed."

Before he had a chance to ask if she had Adams' phone number handy,
Scully produced a Rolodex card.

*Spooky.* He smiled.

Mulder dialed the number and got Adams' voice mail. He hung up and
handed the card back to Scully. "Got his machine. I'm going to drive
down there myself."

He started to leave but stopped himself, turning back to face her.
"Look, Dana, about what happened earlier. I was way out of line..."

"Please, Mulder. An apology is not necessary," she replied with a
shake of her head. "I admit it took me by surprise, but..." She paused
as she lowered her eyes. "I can't honestly say I wasn't a willing
participant."

*Oh?*

The corners of his mouth crept upward into a grin. "Then...uh, you
wouldn't mind having dinner with me tonight?" Mulder grimaced. He
sounded like a fifteen-year-old in hormone overload.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," she said with what he
interpreted as a hint of remorse.

"Why?"

"We are working on a case together. There's a...conflict of interest.
It wouldn't be wise."

"It's just dinner, Dana. We can discuss the case, make it a business
dinner." A sly grin spread across his face. "And I promise to keep my
hands and lips to myself."

That got a reaction. He watched her face contort as she fought the
smile, eventually losing the battle. Teeth like bright pearls shone
between her coral-stained lips. Damn, that woman had a smile that
could stop traffic!

"Well, when you preface it that way, how can I refuse?"

"Great. I'll leave the restaurant choice up to you. What time should I
pick you up?"

"I have a budget meeting this afternoon, so it would have to be a late
dinner." She eyed the wall clock above the door. "Eight would be
good."

She gave him her address and explained that he had passed the condo
complex on his way to her office.

"I'll see you then," he said with a smile, then turned to leave.

This dream was getting better by the minute.


===========x===========


A date.

That's what this was, he suddenly realized as he stood at the front
door of her condo. A dinner date with Scully. A date in a dream. That
was unusual. Most of his dreams bypassed dinner and went straight to
the main attraction.

Wiping his hands on his suit jacket, Mulder took a deep breath and
rang the doorbell. Ten seconds of silence filled his ears, then the
shuffling of hurried high heels neared the door. With the click of a
deadbolt, the door opened and his jaw dropped.

His first assessment of her hair was correct: it _was_ longer than the
Scully he knew. Soft auburn curls sat on her shoulders and licked her
cheeks and neck like flames from a brilliant fire. She wore a
sleeveless rayon dress in a rich emerald green. The color, against her
fair skin, took his breath away. The color was also identical to the
negligee she wore in his dream.

Mulder gulped air. It was going to be a very, _very_ long night.

"Sorry," she said, grinning sheepishly. "I'm not quite ready."

"No problem."

His eyes went to her wrist, where she was trying to attach a bracelet.
She looked at him with a frustrated smile. "The clasp on this is
pretty tricky. I can never seem to do it alone."

"I can try," he shrugged.

She proffered her wrist and the bracelet. "Make sure you feel it snap
in place. If not, it may come loose. It's happened before."

He nodded, placing the clasp ends next to each other and pushing
lightly. He heard a faint 'snick' as the ends grabbed each other and
held. Unwilling to relinquish their closeness, Mulder turned the
bracelet around, admiring the bright gold charm dangling from the
chain.

"This is beautiful," he said, holding the charm on the end of his
finger.

"Thank you. It was my mom's." Her smile faded. "Dad gave this to her
after their first date. It's a real four-leafed clover dipped in
gold."

"Did it bring her good luck?"

Her eyes met his. "It brought her four healthy children and over
thirty years of marriage to a wonderful, caring man who loved her more
than life itself. I would say that was good luck. The kind of luck
most of us only dream about."

Mulder fought with every nerve in his body to keep from leaning in and
kissing her full, pouty lips. He wanted nothing more than to take her
in his arms and show her just how much she meant to him. He didn't
know where this overwhelming passion was coming from, pushing through
his body with a force so strong it threatened to eradicate all
rational thought from his mind. He had felt these feelings for Scully
before, had felt them for as long as he could remember, but never on
this level, never at this magnitude. And never to the point where he
had trouble controlling them.

"We'd better get going," he forced out with a breath.

"I'll get my jacket." Finally releasing the invisible tether on his
eyes, she blinked, then walked to the bedroom.

Mulder let out a slow, shuddered breath, his mouth forming a tight
'o'. The sexual tension in the room surged like a live wire, sparking
and pulsing with untamed energy. If he was lucky, he might be able to
control himself enough to not rip off her clothes and take her on the
restaurant table.

He decided to explore her living room, hoping it would distract him
enough to calm his frazzled nerves. The room was modestly furnished
and tastefully decorated, tidy but very comfortable, each piece of
furniture solid and practical, yet radiating an underlying beauty that
was hard to miss.

The room, he decided, was simply Scully.

He strolled to an antique roll-top desk, his fingers running along its
smooth wood surface. Stacks of neatly arranged papers sat in one
corner, and each cubby hole in the desk had specific contents: one
held just envelopes; another, just stamps and paper clips. A place for
everything, and everything in its place.

He smiled knowingly and walked away but not before bumping the stack
of papers on the end, sending dozens of papers to the carpet. He
quickly gathered them and tried to return them to their former order.
One straggler had floated under the desk and to the back wall.

Pulling out the chair, he crawled under the desk and grabbed the
renegade paper. Once he was upright again, he looked at the sheet and
gasped.

He was staring at himself. A pencil sketch of his face.


===========x===========


Mulder's mouth gaped as his eyes followed the shadowed lines and
curves of the drawing. An uncanny likeness of himself, drawn by who?
Scully? Could she draw? Once he was able to pull his eyes away from
the sketch itself, he saw the numbers '3/95' scribbled in the bottom
corner. March _1995_? That meant...

He heard the clicking of her heels in the hallway and thought about
hiding the sketch back in the pile, but his curiosity wouldn't let
him. She smiled at him as she walked into the room.

"I'm flattered," he said boldly, holding the sketch next to his face.

The woman before him turned an impossibly bright shade of red, her
hands even touched with a pink tint. She abruptly turned, heading to
the bedroom.

"Don't." He put the paper on the desk and approached her. "This has to
do with what you said when we met, doesn't it? You did this sketch."

She stopped a few steps from the bedroom entrance but kept her back to
him. "Yes," she whispered. "But...it's just a coincidence."

"I don't think so. You drew this _before_ we met."

She turned to face him but kept her eyes level with his chest. "I've
been having this dream once or twice a month for the past year. A
man...visits me. I've never learned his name or anything about him.
All I remember is his face." She must have found an added source of
courage, as she looked up at him. "You...look like him. That's why I
said that earlier. I thought it was you, that _he_ was you, but that's
not possible. It's just a dream. Dreams aren't real."

Mulder wasn't so sure of that point. "Dreams are forward-looking, a
way for us to see choices and avenues in what is to come. Maybe your
mind was telling you we would meet."

"A dream can't predict the future. That's impossible."

"Is it?" He suddenly realized the purpose of his dream. All his life
he searched for the truth. The truth about Samantha, the truth about
government conspiracies, the truth about life from another planet.
Truths that continued to elude him. Truths that consumed his entire
being and eclipsed the one truth that was staring him in the face. Or
staring him in the chest at the moment.

He, Fox William Mulder, was in love with the incredible woman standing
before him. A simple fact but one that remained in the shadows for far
too long, forced into the farthest reaches of his troubled mind by his
obsession with his work. Why did he continue to deny himself this one
honest, real truth? Why did he ignore the one truth that never let him
down and was always by his side, selflessly searching with him despite
the hounds of Hell constantly nipping at their heels? This dream was
trying to force him to face this truth, to _really_ believe, and deal
with it.

And deal with it he would. He'd lived his entire life believing in the
fantastic. This was just one more for his record books, and one in
which he would take great pleasure in believing.

He placed a finger under her chin, applying light pressure, insisting
she look at him. When he finally saw her eyes, he continued.

"You're a scientist and you want proof. Well, here's your proof. You
drew a face, _my_ face, on that piece of paper a year ago. And now I'm
standing right in front of you." He took her hands and placed them on
his chest. "I'm your proof, Dana. _I'm_ real. I believe that were
brought together for a reason. Why can't you believe that, too?"

She flinched at his words, and he could see the storm brewing in her
moist eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, thoughts and feelings never
leaving her lips. He knew she was searching for any small thread of
logic to hold onto, to steady herself, but nothing came. And nothing
would. This was beyond logic, beyond the unbelievable, yet it made all
the sense in the world.

Before she had a chance to back away, he lowered his lips to hers,
letting all of his passion converge at that one point of contact. She
whimpered but made no attempt to move. His arms encircled her in a
tight embrace, pulling her against his body, which had already begun
to harden. Her arms went to his neck and she threaded her fingers
through his hair. The sensation of her sharp fingernails on his skin
sent jolts of electricity from his brain to his feet and all parts in
between.

Mulder broke the kiss to orally explore the skin on her neck and
shoulder. Tiny gasps erupted from her mouth and served as added
incentive for him to continue.

"We...we can't do this," she whispered, speaking with obvious
difficulty. "I don't even know you. You could...ahhh...be an ax
murderer or something."

He chuckled against her skin, then moved his hands to cup her face. "I
promise you I am not an ax murderer. Trust me, Dana. Believe."

Mulder grabbed her lower lip with his teeth and drew it into his
mouth, eliciting a low moan from her. Small hands grasped at his
shoulders and she pulled herself closer to him, so close he thought
they would meld into one being. He could feel himself getting
painfully hard. It was going to be over in a matter of minutes if she
kept grinding her hips into his groin and sighing into his mouth. His
control was fading like the colors of an age-worn photograph.

As if sensing his urgency, she grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket
and pulled him into the bedroom, lips still firmly attached to his.
Exploring each inch of her mouth with his tongue, Mulder reveled in
her taste: minty and clean with a hint of spice. Cinnamon, maybe?  He
decided it wasn't worth wasting brain cells figuring out the mystery
flavor. He would just call it 'Scully'.

All his mind could focus on was getting the confining barriers of
clothing away from their bodies so he could feel her, _really_ feel
her. Feel her smooth skin against his, feel the curve and weight of
her uncovered breast in his hand. Feel her against him, feel himself
entering her, fully surrounded by her...

Without warning, she pulled back. "Wait. Stop."

"What?" he gasped, nearly hyperventilating.

"Uh, do you have any...you know..." She tilted her head to the side a
few times, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

It took him several seconds to catch on. "Oh. Uh...no I don't have one
on me."

Condoms? In a dream? Another Mulder Fantasy first.

Her mouth formed a frown, only to have it replaced with a smile
seconds later. "Oh! I almost forgot!"

She fled to the bathroom and he could hear the clattering of plastic
and metal hitting the porcelain sink as she searched for the
resolution to their final obstacle. A few unbearable minutes later,
she walked out of the bathroom holding the square foil pouch like a
trophy. Her grin lit up the room like a thousand-watt bulb.

Relief washed over him like a cool ocean wave. He reached for her, and
after tossing the packet on the nightstand, she pressed her body
against his, lazily dragging her hands from his abdomen up to his
shoulders.

"Now, where were we?" she asked as she looked into his eyes.

"Right here," he whispered as he nipped at her chin. His hands made
short order of the zipper on her dress, and he pushed the dress from
her shoulders. He swallowed as he stared at the strapless emerald
green bra encasing and gently lifting her breasts. His eyes continued
their journey, stopping briefly at the smooth, gently curved surface
of her stomach, then at the matching bikini panties. Her hips flared
out to connect with shapely thighs, then tapered down into solid,
contoured calves, their shape nicely accentuated by her feet being
angled in three-inch black heels.

No pantyhose.

*Thank you, God.*

He looked at her face and could see apprehension in her eyes. She
shifted from foot to foot, as if waiting for a report on his visual
findings. A brilliant smile came across his face.

"You know, being this beautiful should be illegal," he crooned as he
took her in his arms again. Her shy grin was worth the risk of
sounding sappy.

Scully secretly liked sap. He'd have to file that one away for future
use.

He pushed his lips to hers, demanding her response. He wasn't
disappointed as her tongue dueled for dominance with his, her hands
working their way underneath his jacket and pushing the material from
his body. After hastily disposing of his tie, his shirt went next, as
her surgeon-steady hands undid the buttons in a matter of seconds.

Mulder cursed the clasp of her bra and he heard her chuckle against
the skin of his neck. He was about to give up hope when the stubborn
piece of metal disengaged itself from its partner. Letting the bra
fall to the ground, his hands moved to cup her, squeezing her soft
mounds together and up. His thumbs flicked across the already taut
peaks, causing them to pucker even more. He watched as her head fell
back and a moan escaped her swollen lips.

He yearned to take one of those pinkish-brown peaks into his mouth but
the height difference left them at a disadvantage. She was so
sensitive, so responsive to his touch. He wanted to touch every part
of her body with every part of his.

Despite the fact that her mouth was doing amazing things on his chest,
he bent at the knees and scooped her up, smiling at her high-pitched
yelp. After gently depositing her on the bed, he tugged at his shoes
and socks, then fumbled with his belt buckle. It would have helped if
he was watching what he was doing but he couldn't take his eyes off
her body. Milky white skin as far as his eyes could see, interrupted
only by a small scrap of emerald green silk.

She must have seen his struggle because she sat up, moving to a
kneeling position in front of him. "Need some help?" It was a purr,
not a question.

"Uh, yeah." He had managed to get the belt loose but allowed her to
unbutton and unzip his pants. He stepped out of the pants the second
they hit the floor and was left standing before her in red cotton
boxers.

"Oooh, red. My favorite color." She smiled as she ran one fingernail
down the length of him, the thin material failing to mask any of the
feeling.

He groaned her name as her hand went underneath one leg of the boxers,
her index finger lightly scraping his sac. She quickly removed her
hand but her touch returned immediately as she whisked the remaining
material from his body.

Painful bliss exploded in his veins as he felt her lips on his
abdomen, then his thighs, then hips, always approaching but never
making contact with the one part of his body straining for her
attention. He groaned in frustration and thought he heard a stifled
chuckle against his leg. Thankfully, she took pity on him, her tongue
laving the tip of him, licking away the bead of moisture that had
formed. His groan turned into an all-out growl as her hand wrapped
around the base, pulling his erection away from his body and talking
half of him in her mouth, sucking hard, withdrawing him then plunging
him back into her throat. Again and again. Just like the dream within
the dream.

It was too much. One more thrust into her mouth and he was going to
explode. Literally. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her from him.
She looked up.

"Together" was all he was able to get out.

She nodded and reached for the foil pouch, ripping it open and taking
the initiative by applying the condom herself, her touch deliberate
and slow. Torturously slow.

Pleased with her handiwork, she shot him a deadly smile and removed
her own panties, tossing them to the floor before lying back on the
bed. He followed, moving over her, careful not to crush her but
positioning himself for maximum contact. Feeling her heated skin
against his sent another tremor through his body. He settled himself
between her legs and kissed her hard, leaving no doubt how he felt. He
broke the kiss, leaving them both breathing like they had just run a
marathon.

"So good," she whispered. "This feels so good."

"Yesss," he hissed as he pushed himself against her entrance, the very
edge of his erection slipping inside.

She groaned, her eyes flying open to meet with his. He saw something
there besides passion and desire. Was it panic?

"What? What's wrong?" He pulled his hips back.

"I haven't been with anyone since Richard," she said shyly, "and,
well, you're not exactly...standard issue." Her eyes traveled down his
body as she spoke.

He laughed, a selfish goofy grin spreading across his lips. This was
one missing aspect of his fantasies starring Dana Scully. He always
thought their joining would be passionate, explosive, desperate. And
silent. He never envisioned the natural wordplay or innuendo-ridden
exchanges that frequented their professional life. He liked this
addition to his fantasy collection. He _really_ liked it.

His silence must have heightened her concern, her eyes growing wider.
"I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Not at all. It's just that I'm not
sure how...flexible things are down there."

He smoothed her hair and lightly swiped his mouth across her forehead,
the light scent of peaches teasing his nostrils. A loving smile
replaced the playful one on his lips. "It's OK, Dana. It's been a
while for me, too. We'll take it slow. Control is my middle name."

*Liar,* he chastised mentally. Control? Who was he kidding? Control
wasn't even in his vocabulary anymore. In less than thirty minutes,
the entire Fox Mulder lexicon had been reduced to various grunts and
groans, her name, the word 'oh' and the name of a deity in whom he
didn't even believe. Control was about as familiar a concept to him as
childbirth. He took several mental breaths, calming his mind and body.
He could, he _would_, maintain control.

He started with feather-weight kisses and flicks of his tongue on her
face while his fingers twisted in her hair. He progressed slowly, his
kisses eventually finding her neck and collarbone and his hands
exploring her breasts. Her sighs spoke of contentment, pleasure and
trust. She trusted him not to hurt her. He would make sure he didn't
betray that trust.

One hand moved south, finding springy, moist curls. He groaned as he
found her center, her arousal drenching his fingers, her sharp gasp
tickling his ears. And that scent. The same one from the dream. Eau du
Aroused Scully.

What was that word again? Oh yeah.

Control.

He kissed and laved the skin between her breasts, tasting the
saltiness before taking one rosy nipple in his mouth, lightly sucking
at first, then increasing pressure, basking in the rising level of her
husky cries. Deciding she was adequately distracted, he pushed one
finger into her heat, feeling the walls contract with his entrance.
Her hips bucked against his palm. He quickly inserted a second finger
and her hips lifted off the bed.

"God, Fox!"

Hearing his name in that tone, he realized control was no longer an
option. The fact that she had called him by his first name barely
registered, not that it mattered. He had to be inside her. This
minute. No delays. Pain had become the prominent feeling emanating
from his swollen groin.

"Now," she gasped, as if reading his mind. He wasn't about to argue.

His fingers slipped out of her, eliciting a groan of frustration from
her lips. He moved over her, propping himself on his elbows, settling
himself between her legs. He pressed the head of his erection to her
entrance and waited.

"Dana, are you positive you're..."

Her hands grabbed his hips and shoved him forward, and he entered her
in one abrupt thrust. Her strangled cry overpowered his shocked gasp,
and he was afraid he had hurt her, but when her hips began moving
beneath him he knew the cry had not been from pain. Not entirely,
anyway.

Synapses created tiny explosions everywhere on his body. She
surrounded him like a tight, wet vice, squeezing and pulling him into
her body. His mind told him to slow his thrusts but his hips had a
different agenda. His first few strokes were long and lingering,
allowing her to adjust to his size and allowing him to regain some
composure, but that lasted about as long as Skinner's patience. His
hips involuntarily started to pump faster, pressing her harder into
the mattress. Her only responses were those of encouragement, his name
leaving her lips in choked gasps and muffled moans.

Her breathing quickened, bursting from her in short pants. The harder
he thrusted, the rougher the timbre of her moans became. She was
close. Damn good thing, because he was about to reach that point of no
return himself. He thrust faster, deeper, kissing any part of her his
lips could reach, nipping and sucking at her soft skin. He could feel
her contracting around him, and within seconds, strong teeth bit into
his shoulder and a muffled scream vibrated against his skin.

The bite finished him off. One long, deep pump of his hips and he was
soaring, pure ecstasy flowing through his veins. He pulsed inside her,
feeling her contracting muscles milking and draining him, extending
his pleasure until he was positive he would black out.

His lower body collapsed onto hers but he still had enough strength to
keep his upper body supported by his arms. He opened his eyes to find
flushed creamy skin glistening with sweat, red swollen lips and the
most piercing sea-green eyes he had ever seen. Her lips parted and a
moist pink tongue darted out. He couldn't resist dipping his mouth to
hers and retrieving that tongue with his teeth, pulling it between his
lips. She laughed, a bubbly giggling sound that proved contagious. He
broke the kiss.

"That tickles," she said between breaths.

"I'll have to remember that," he teased.

Executing a move that defied both logic and gravity, he held her warm
body to his while quickly flipping them over, never breaking the
connection of their lower bodies.

"Agent Mulder, I'm impressed," she said with a husky laugh. "Is that
something you learned at the FBI Academy?"

"Nah. Boy Scouts."

Her smile twisted into a yawn, and she placed her head on his chest,
rubbing her cheek against the smattering of wiry hair. His hands
stroked her back, settling in a gentle rhythm. A contented sigh
rumbled through her body, and Mulder could feel her entire body relax
in his arms. Within minutes, her breathing leveled out and he could
tell she had drifted to sleep.

Mulder felt his eyelids grow heavy and try as he might, he couldn't
resist letting them close. As he reluctantly let sleep overtake him,
he prayed that when he awakened, Dana Scully would still be stretched
across him like a warm, soft, angelic blanket.



END PART 4


===========x===========
===========x===========


PART 5
------


"What kind of dreams were they?"

He brought her hand to his lips, kissing each finger as he waited for
her answer, the need to touch her overpowering all other senses. Their
bodies sated, they had slept for over two hours. The light touch of
her hand on his cheek awakened him. Waves of relief and contentment
flowed over him when he opened his eyes and saw her beautiful face
smiling at him.

The sex had been, well, incredible. Mind-blowing. Better than any
fantasy he'd had with her in the co-starring role. They had joined not
only physically, but spiritually as well. He and Scully had been
close, almost from day one, linked by a mental and intellectual bond
that was as unexplainable as it was unconditional. Adding the level of
a physical coming-together only heightened his emotions for the
phenomenon that was Dana Scully.

If all of this was a dream, he prayed he would never awaken. He was
satiated: mind, body, psyche and spirit.

"What dreams?" she asked innocently.

"You know what dreams. The dreams with me...uh, the man from the
sketch." He felt her shift against him, fidgeting like a nervous
child. He lifted his head to look at her, her hair splayed across his
chest and her face out of his line of sight.

"Dana?"

She shifted again, moving her head away from him and he took the
opportunity to cup her face with his palm. Only then did she look
toward him and he saw the red flush of her skin, a flush not as a
result of their lovemaking.

He bit his lower lip as he realized why she hadn't answered him. "Ah,
_those_ kind of dreams. There's no reason to be embarrassed, Dana. We
all have erotic dreams."

*Some more than others,* he mused silently.

"I know," she whispered. "I just don't want you to think that's the
reason why I...why we..."

"Got horizontal?" he chided.

"No," she said with a weak laugh. "Why we made love."

His teasing grin softened and he tangled his fingers in her hair,
pulling her close. "I like the sound of that."

"So do I," she said before his mouth claimed hers in an ardent kiss.
He pulled her atop his body and continued to kiss her with a ferocity
that would surely leave them both with bruised lips. The passion he
felt for this woman had no end, no boundaries. Despite the fact that
their previous joining had drained him of what he thought was every
ounce of sexual energy left in his body, he could feel himself
stirring under her soft weight.

He rolled them over, pinning her to the bed as he kissed and laved her
throat and collarbone. Sharp fingernails dug into his back, pressing
with a force almost strong enough to pierce his skin, the feeling both
painful and erotic.

"Wait, I need to tell you...ahhh..." Her voice trailed off in a moan
as he took a nipple in his mouth, lightly biting and pulling. Her back
arched off the bed as she pulled him closer.

"No...no, wait. Ahhh...please. Fox."

This time, her use of his first name jarred him. How did she know that
would get his attention? He lifted his head from her chest and looked
at her, the blue-green in her eyes barely visible around enlarged
pupils.

"When I said I had one of those," she said, pointing to the ripped
foil package, "I meant it. I only have _one_."

"Just one?" he asked in a whimper.

She nodded, a sad smile on her lips. "I normally don't keep them
around, but that one..."

He waited for her to continue but she remained silent, mentally
pulling away from him, her eyes creating a canyon of distance between
them. He lifted a hand to her face, gently caressing her cheek. The
sensation of him touching her skin brought her back, her eyes focusing
on him once again.

"That condom was a gag gift on Valentine's Day. It was left on my desk
at work." She smiled bitterly. "I'd had a meeting earlier that day
with the sheriff. I wondered why his men were so amused when I left."

Mulder closed his eyes, his head shaking in disbelief. "Dana, I'm so
sorry. Adams didn't have anything to do with it, did he?"

She snorted. "Adams is a wimp. He talks the talk and walks the walk
until I come into the room and then he's all smiles and compliments.
He kisses my ass because he knows I'm good at what I do, but he has to
fit in with 'the guys' so he plays the game."

Mulder wrote himself a mental note to kick Adams' ass up on his
shoulders anyway, just for going along with the harassment. He
chuckled internally with the image his mind supplied, then immediately
returned his attentions to the remarkable woman beneath him.

His hand brushed invisible strands of hair from her face. "You, Dana
Scully, are an amazing woman. You are beautiful, intelligent and
strong. You work against the odds to make a difference, to help
people. I can't see how anyone, male or female, could have anything
but the utmost respect for you."

Tears welled in her eyes, but he knew she wouldn't allow them to fall.
Just the fact that they were there was enough to send a surge of pride
and love up his spine and into his heart.

"Thank you," she said in a ragged whisper. She followed up with a
slow, passionate kiss, telling him how she felt in a way no words
could express. She broke the kiss but she found other patches of his
skin to caress with her lips.

He chuckled and reluctantly stopped her by cupping her face with his
hands. "Hey, I think I need to pay a visit to your friendly,
neighborhood drug store."

"Why? There are many ways to make love, you know." Her sly smile sent
a tremor of desire through his body, manifesting itself in his groin.

"This is true." He kissed her forehead, then each eye. "But I don't
think I could stop there."

"Stop where?" Her smile widened as she waited for his explanation.

"I plan on making love to you, Dana, in every way imaginable, with
every part of my body. I want to spend the rest of the evening making
you scream my name." His own smile brightened when he felt her squirm
under him, his words having the desired effect on her. "Just lying
here with you excites me more than I ever thought possible, but the
feeling of being inside you when you go over that edge is something I
want to feel tonight as many times as my body will permit."

She opened her mouth to speak but words failed her. He didn't need the
words anyway. Her eyes, deepening in color as he spoke, told him
everything he needed to know. He gave her a tender kiss, then rolled
off of her, coming to a sitting position on the side of the bed. He
found his boxers and pulled them on.

"I'll get some food on the way back. Any preferences?"

"There's a good deli up the road and it's open until midnight. Their
club sandwich is the best in the county," she replied with a yawn.

He nodded. "I thought I might get a change of clothes from my hotel
room on the way as well."

"And who said you're invited to stay the night?"

He turned to see a playful smile on her lips. Putting on his best
forlorn look, he jutted out his bottom lip. "Well, if that's the way
you want it..." His words were cut off by her grabbing his head and
pulling him down to her as she kissed him fervently.

"Does that answer your question?" she asked in a whisper when they
finally disengaged their lips.

"Oh yeah." A goofy grin replaced the mock pout on his lips, and he
finished buttoning his shirt and slipped into his wrinkled trousers.
Bending down for one quick kiss, he ran a hand down her body, stopping
just above the nest of curls below her abdomen.

"Don't move. Don't get dressed. And don't fall asleep," he chastised
lightly.

She gave him a mock salute. "Yes, sir!"

He replied with a laugh as he tucked his shirt into the pants.
Deciding it wasn't worth searching for his tie, he grabbed his suit
jacket and started out the room. Her voice pulled him back, her words
reaching out, turning him around to face her one more time.

"Mulder...Fox, I don't know why this...we...happened, but I'm glad it
did. I don't know where this will lead us or how we can make it work
but I want to try. You asked me to believe. I do now." Her voice
cracked on the last few words.

"Dana..." His whisper barely made it past his lips before a lump in
his throat caught him by surprise and choked off the remaining words.
He nodded once, then left the room before his own tears could fall.


===========x===========


As Mulder drove to the drug store, the song 'The Impossible Dream' ran
through his head. What he was experiencing _was_ The Impossible Dream.
Adopting his partner's skepticism, he wondered how it could be
possible to be dreaming, fall asleep in that dream not once but twice,
and awaken still in a dream state. It shouldn't be possible. He had
never heard of such a case, documented or hearsay. The human mind
didn't work that way and he knew it. This was more than just a dream.

He pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour pharmacy. Exiting the car,
he walked to the entrance and peered through the door. At the check-
out stand he could see a familiar face: Agent Adams, chatting it up
with one of the uniformed officers from the murder scene.

Mulder quickly jogged back to the car, hoping Adams hadn't spotted
him. The last thing Dana Scully needed was to have Adams spreading
around rumors that the man who had 'melted Dr. Ice' was seen at the
drug store buying a box of condoms. As much as Mulder would love to
see the look on Adams' face, he knew it would create nothing but more
harassment for Scully...Dana.

He still had a hard time thinking about her as 'Dana'. Dana the woman,
as opposed to Scully the FBI agent. He always knew there was a
difference but the 'woman' part was blurred because of their work. The
past twenty-four hours helped bring that aspect of his partner into
focus.

Buildings and greenery turned into swatches of color from a paintbrush
as Mulder lead the Taurus down the two-lane highway at speeds well
over the legal limit. Within minutes he spotted another all-night
pharmacy and quickly made his purchase.

Mulder pulled away from the pharmacy and continued down the same
highway until he reached the decrepit sign announcing Rainbow's End
Pass. His foot involuntarily let up on the gas, but he forced it down
and continued over the bridge. He knew he would need a spinal
adjustment after the jarring from taking the bridge too fast but he
didn't want to waste any time. Maybe Dana would give him a massage
when he returned. His face lit up with a wicked smile.

The Rainbow's End Motel was a few miles from the bridge and once he
arrived at his room, he gathered a pair of jeans, a clean t-shirt and
boxers. His eyes briefly fell upon his shaving kit. He knew they would
have to split up in the morning, her going to the coroner's office and
him going with Adams to search out leads. He could return to his room
to shower in the morning, but visions of showering with her, their wet
bodies colliding and sliding together, flared images in his brain and
a fire down below.

He grabbed the shaving kit and ran out the door.

Once he pulled back onto the highway, his mind tossed more questions
at him. How was this dream possible? How was he able to sleep during a
dream but never fully awaken? How long would he be able to sustain
this dream state? Would he be able to remember just bits and pieces of
the dream or every tiny detail when he finally awakened? The beginning
pains of a headache started to insinuate their way into his head.

Later. He would find all of the answers to his questions later. Right
now, he had a very beautiful, very sexy and very naked woman waiting
for him to return. His eyes found the dashboard clock. 11:21pm. He was
making good time and if his luck continued, he would be back in Dana's
arms before midnight.

As the Taurus started over Rainbow's End Pass, Mulder knew his luck
had run out. Directly in front of his path stood two bright orbs,
placed several feet apart.

Headlights.

"No."

He slammed on the brakes and threw the Taurus in reverse.

"No!"

He floored the accelerator, the car jerking with the backward motion.
The speedometer crept higher but not fast enough. The lights became
larger and brighter as they approached, the glare burning Mulder's
eyes.

"No, goddammit!"

Flashes of Dana Scully slammed into his head. Her fiery hair, her
devastating smile, her voice husky with desire, her body writhing
beneath his...

*I need more time! Give us more time, please! DON'T MAKE ME GO BACK!!*

The lights closed the remaining distance in seconds.

"NOOOO!!"

Tears streamed down Fox Mulder's face as he waiting for the lights to
descend and surround him with illuminated darkness.


===========x===========


Mulder's eyes fluttered open, a heavy wave of nausea churning his
stomach. He swallowed bile and looked out the windshield. A slight
drizzle dotted the windshield with tiny droplets of water.

He looked at the passanger seat. Empty. No jeans, no t-shirt, no
shaving kit. No paper bag containing a box of condoms.

Running a hand over his face, he didn't need to look in the rearview
mirror. He knew he would find the old Fox Mulder staring at him. He
knew where he was.

Welcome back to reality, Agent Mulder.

His mind numb, Mulder put the car in gear and headed toward the
Rainbow's End Motel. It was a dream, nothing more than an elaborate,
complex, extremely vivid dream. A small part of his brain was thankful
for the fact that he remembered every detail about the dream. Another
part of his brain cursed his photographic memory.

Without thinking, he pulled into the motel parking lot and settled the
car into a parking spot directly in front of his room. He looked to
his left left, seeing the darkened room adjacent to his.

Mulder sighed and exited the Taurus. He dug in his pants pocket for
his room key but came up empty. He tried the other pocket with no
success. Both hands went into the pockets of his suit coat and one
came up the winner.

He pulled the key from the pocket and a flash of gold caught his eye.
Something had fallen out of the pocket when he extracted the key.
Because of the dim lighting in the parking lot, he was barely able to
find the object on the pavement when he bent to retrieve it. He stood
and held the object in his hand while walking to the door to his room.

He gasped as the light in front of the door revealed the object to
him. A bracelet, delicate in design, exquisite in craftsmanship. A
tiny braided chain of gold with a charm dangling from the middle. A
charm in the shape of a four-leafed clover.

"How?" An exhalation more than a question.

He could no longer breathe, let alone think of how or why this
bracelet was in his pocket. Had it come loose while she was removing
his jacket? Or before, when they were kissing? If that was the case,
how could it have been a dream?

Was he still dreaming now?

Dizziness swept over him, nearly sending him to the ground. He held
his hand out, bracing himself against the motel room door until the
severity of it passed. His eyes refused to focus completely and he
fumbled with the room key. He got the door open on the third try. The
room was awash in dim light, the lamp by the bed covering less than
half of the room's area.

As quietly as he could, Mulder walked to the adjoining door, which was
slightly ajar. He pushed the door aside, opening it further. Stepping
into the room, he saw Scully on her bed. She was curled in a fetal
position facing toward from him, her lips slightly parted, her breath
steady and shallow. He spotted her gun on the dresser and her laptop
sitting on the table by the window.

It was Scully. Agent Dana Scully. His partner. His partner, _not_ his
lover.

Another round of dizziness slammed into his head and he was barely
able to stumble through the adjoining door and to his bed before
nearly blacking out. His eyes closed immediately though he willed
himself to stay awake. He needed to know. Was he really awake or still
dreaming? Was it live or was it Memorex?

As he started to slip into unconsciousness, he thought of Dana. The
way her body fit perfectly against his, the way her desire-deepened
voice caressed his name with love and affection, the way his body came
alive as he touched her in places he never thought she would allow.

With his remaining strength, Mulder opened his eyes and turned his
head toward the door separating them. He hoped Scully was having
sleeping soundly. He didn't think he ever would again.



END PART 5
END OF 'THE WISH II'

===========x===========
===========x===========



T H E  W I S H  I I I:  A  D R E A M  I S  A  W I S H
by viXen  <xfvixen@geocities.com>

===========x===========
Summary: Mulder and Scully face the implications of their dreams.
Classification: SRA
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance, alternate universe
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: Takes place on March 17, 1996. No Season 4 stuff here.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. They belong to CC,
1013 and Fox.
===========x===========


PART 1
------


Sleep slowly released its hold on Dana Scully, allowing her eyes and
mind focus on her surroundings. She was still in the Mississippi hotel
room, the same place in which she had fallen asleep. For a moment she
was relieved, but the relief proved to be hollow. Empty.

Lonely.

Her eyes found the digital clock on the side table. Five minutes
before midnight. The last thing she remembered before drifting off was
the sound of the Taurus starting. Mulder had left, presumably to
condemn himself to a car ride filled with painful memories and self-
blame. Just as she had been doing until she had relented and let sleep
take her.

She felt guilty for pushing him away, for not being able to deal with
her feelings for him and the severity of her dream. But most of all,
she was angry at herself for not being able to keep a rein on her
emotions. She let a simple exercise of her imagination foreshadow her
image of him.  She let some wild erotic dream paint Fox Mulder as her
lover, her mind unable to see through those colors to find the real
man, the man who was her partner and friend. And nothing more.

Apology is Policy. Mulder had told her that once. She knew he thought
apologies were a mockery of those to which they were directed. The
words 'I'm sorry' were so trite at times, often spoken with no emotion
and even less sincerity.

She knew, however, that her apology was all she had to give to him.
She couldn't take back her actions, her snipes and harshness, the
distancing of herself from the comfort he obviously wanted to give.
She would say the words and he would accept them. Just as he had done
with her, so many times in the past.

<<"I'm sorry, Scully.">>

<<"I know, Mulder.">>

So few words but so much meaning. That was how it was with their
partnership. Words sometimes got in the way, creating more problems
than they were worth. One look told volumes, and always had with them.
They could read each other's reactions like a favorite book.

The only exception being the emotions each had buried deep inside
themselves, hidden so well they rarely acknowledged them within their
own minds. Scully knew what she felt for Mulder was more than a
platonic love, more than the love felt for a friend or partner. Much
more. But she kept those feelings hidden, and had for quite some time.
She knew it was better that way.

So why did it hurt so much?

Scully stretched and rose from the bed, pulling on a cotton robe over
her mens-style pajamas. She ran her fingers through her hair a few
times and approached the adjoining door. The door was open half-way
and she pushed it until she was able to walk into his room.

A light snoring filled the small room, along with the dim light from
the lamp by the bed. He was so tired he hadn't bothered to click off
the light or to change his clothes. She slowly walked to the bed,
engaging in an internal struggle. She hated to wake him, especially
after seeing the serene look of sleep on his face, but she needed to
talk to him, to make sure things were all right between them.

"Mulder." Her hand brushed against his arm. His hand twitched, his
fist opening to reveal a gold chain. His body shifted on the bed but
he remained asleep.

Scully took the chain from his hand and brought it closer to the
light. Her breath caught as her eyes found the clover charm dangling
from one of the links.

Her mom's bracelet. The one Ahab had given her on their first date.
Scully pulled on the closed clasp, noting how easily it came loose.
How did Mulder get this? Tears threatened in her eyes but she pushed
them back.

She shook her partner's shoulder. "Mulder, wake up."

His head snapped toward her voice and his eyes flew open.
"Wha...what's wrong? Are you OK, Scully?"

"Where did you get this?" she demanded, ignoring his questions.

"What? Get what?" His mind still foggy, he hadn't realized the
bracelet was no longer in his hand. He pushed himself up into a
sitting position, letting his back rest against the headboard.

"This." She thrust the bracelet in his face. He reached for it and she
pulled her hand back. "Mulder, where did you get this?"

"I found it," he replied vaguely. He knew she couldn't handle the
truth as to how he came in possession of the bracelet. He could barely
handle the truth himself.

"Where? In DC?" Her voice wavered but she held her ground, standing
next to the bed, for once towering over her partner.

"No, here in Mississippi. It was on the ground in the parking lot."
Mulder bit the inside of his cheek. Technically it wasn't a lie but he
still felt a twinge of guilt for not telling her the entire truth. He
saw her nod and back away from the bed, mumbling what he thought was
an apology. Like the shutter on a camera, she opened herself to him
only to close the connection a split-second later.

Scully found a chair near the end of the bed and lowered herself to
it. She had overreacted over a simple piece of jewelry, one that had
probably been mass-produced and sold all over the country. There were
hundreds, maybe even thousands of those bracelets in existence. The
loose clasp was most likely a manufacturing defect. How could she be
so narrow-minded?

She had to get a hold of herself. The threads of her sanity were wound
so tight she could feel them threatening to snap. The dream was
stripping her of her rational thought. Anger and confusion mixed into
a frustrating fog in her head. Why wasn't she able to believe it was
simply a vivid dream and nothing more? Mulder's voice interrupted her
mental argument.

"Scully, why...what's the significance of the bracelet?"

"I'm sorry. It just brought back some memories," she said, her eyes
lowered to her lap.

"Good memories or bad?" he ventured.

A sad smile graced her lips. "Both, actually. My dad had given my mom
one of these on their first date. Mom loved the bracelet, even down to
the loose clasp that kept coming apart. Mom never got it fixed, said
it made it quirky and endearing, just like my dad. She lost the
bracelet right after Ahab died. She was crushed, losing the one
physical momento of him that meant so much to her."

Mulder held his breath as she told the story. Almost the same story
she had told him in the dream. Or whatever it was he had experienced.
He suspected 'dream' wasn't the right word. He ran a hand over his
face.

"Scully, I need to tell you something, something you're not going to
want to believe. I'm having a hard time with it myself." He moved to
the end of the bed to sit directly in front of her, letting his legs
dangle over the side. "If ever I've needed you to open your mind, it's
now."

She nodded warily. Her partner looked nervous and that worried her.
"What is it, Mulder? You're starting to scare me."

"It's nothing bad, it's just something...ah hell, I'll just tell you."
He took a deep breath. "I left earlier, took a drive around town. Only
I ended up somewhere else."

Her brow furrowing, she scooted forward in her chair, putting her
hands on her knees. "What do you mean 'somewhere else'? In the next
county?"

*More like in the next universe,* he thought wryly while trying to
find the right words.

"I drove over Rainbow's End Pass, you know, the one we drove over to
get to the sheriff's office." He paused as she nodded. "When I drove
over it, there was a truck, or what I thought was a truck. It came
barreling at me, and the bridge wasn't big enough for the both of us.
He was going to hit me, I was sure of it. I braced myself, hoping for
the best. I felt the impact, Scully, and I heard the crunching
metal..."

Concern flooded Scully's face. "My God, Mulder, are you all right?"
She moved to get a better look at him but his hand shot up, stilling
her.

"The collision never happened. I'm not sure how he missed me. He
_couldn't_ have missed me but he did."

Scully sat back in her chair, considering his story carefully before
speaking. "You were pretty tired. You could have imagined the whole
thing."

"That's what I thought until I saw you." His eyes went to hers,
searching for a reaction. As always, the analytical mask she wore
showed no emotion.

"You saw me where?"

"At the scene of a crime, a different crime but here in Rainbow's End.
And it was you, but it wasn't you."

Her head tilted to the side but she fought the urge to reach out and
put her hand to his forehead. "Mulder, are you sure you're not hurt?
You're not making sense."

He chuckled. "No more than usual, anyway. Scully, she was you, but she
was a _different_ you. She was the coroner here. That's where I got
the bracelet." He pointed to her hand, which still held the piece of
jewelry.

Scully's mind went into overdrive. *Bizarro Mulder meets Bizarro
Scully.* She knew how crazy it sounded but it was exactly what had
happened to her. Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to burst
through her skin. She fingered the bracelet while her free hand went
to the bruise on her neck.

Mulder had his momento from his dream and she had hers.

"I thought you said you got the bracelet from the parking lot," she
said with a surprisingly steady voice.

He shrugged. "I didn't know I had the bracelet on me until I went to
get my room key. It fell out of my jacket pocket."

"Mulder, did you stop to think that what happened was only a dream?"

"Of course I did," he replied with emotion. "I want to believe,
Scully, but I'm not about to overlook the obvious. I thought I had
been in an accident. When I found that I hadn't, I immediately thought
it was a dream." His eyes went to her hand. "Then I found the
bracelet."

She refused to believe. Despite the evidence, Dana Scully refused to
believe that they both had anything other than a dream. Parallel
universes didn't exist. Period. What happened was a coincidence. A
tiny part in the back of her brain prodded her to tell Mulder about
her dream, but she couldn't reveal it to him. She wouldn't. Telling
him would only add credence to his argument.

Mulder reached across the small space separating them, his hand going
to her chin, insisting she look at him. "What happened in that dream,
or whatever it was, has affected me in ways I never thought
imaginable. It's caused me to open my eyes, about my life, about our
work, about us." His eyes met hers, speaking silently to her, begging
her to listen to his words and take them to heart. "Something happened
here, Scully. Something...I don't know, I can't explain it. But I
think it is affecting our relationship, or it will."

He paused, trying to collect his thoughts and waiting for her to
interrupt. He was surprised when all she did was stare at him, her
eyes wide and uncertain. He decided to take a chance and moved from
the bed, kneeling in front of her chair. He didn't touch her, opting
to place his hands on the arm of the chair.

"Scully, you know how much you mean to me, right? I mean, you're the
most important person in my life right now."

"Mulder, you don't have to do this..." Her words trailed off as his
hand covered her forearm.

"Just hear me out, OK?" He waited for her nod before continuing. "Our
relationship has been a constant roller coaster ride, ups and downs,
just like any other relationship. I...I guess what I'm trying to say
is that no matter what happens between us, I need you, Scully. I need
you to be by my side. I know I've never said it to you before, but I
thank The Powers That Be for sending you to spy on me."

"I'm not a spy," she injected, trying to lighten the situation despite
the fire sparking in the pit of her stomach.

He flashed her a weak grin. "I know you're not, Scully. I've known
that since our first case. I didn't realize it then, but I've needed
you in my life for so long. You fill an emptiness in me I never
thought would be filled."

She fidgeted on the chair, his words both arousing and unsettling her.
"Mulder..."

His hand went to her mouth, his forefinger lightly covering her lips.
"Let me finish." He lowered his hand to her arm. "I just want you to
know that whatever you can give me, Scully, I'm willing to take and I
will do my best to reciprocate."

Her brow furrowed and she opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed
it as she saw him shake his head. He was invading her personal space
again, the effects of which were beginning to manifest in a low-lying
heat underneath her skin.

"I need you here with me, no matter how obstinate I get about wanting
or needing to handle things myself. You ground me, Scully. You keep me
whole and sane. I need you, in whatever capacity you see fit. Partner,
confidante, friend, _best_ friend..."

"Lover," she whispered. Her mouth had betrayed her before her brain
could intercept.

"Only if you want it," he replied, his voice dropping half an octave
and his stomach rising into his throat. His fingers brushed the inside
of her arm but his eyes remained on her lowered head, waiting for her
to look at him.

Scully felt panic set in and she was overwhelmed by the burning need
to flee. She pushed herself up from the chair and hurried across the
room, catching Mulder by surprise.

"I...I'm sorry," she said quietly, her back to him. "I don't know
where that came from."

"From the heart, maybe?" He stood and approached her slowly, not
wanting to scare her away.

She sighed and ran a nervous hand through her hair. "Mulder, I'm
exhausted. I don't know what I'm saying. I think we could both use
some rest." She moved away from him, walking toward her room.

"Scully, don't walk away from this," he said firmly. "I've just laid
it all out for you. Please, let's discuss this."

She turned to face him once she reached the adjoining door. "I...I
can't right now. I'm too tired and too confused. Please, Mulder..."

She didn't need to continue; her eyes told him he would get no further
with the conversation. Scully had firmly planted her feet and was not
about to budge. She was scared. If he pursued it, she would become
more defensive and the walls surrounding her heart would solidify to
the point he knew he would never get in.

Sometimes it amazed him how well he could read her. He knew she could
do the same with him, so he did his best to hide his anxiety from his
eyes and he reluctantly nodded in assent. "OK, we'll talk later. Sleep
well, Dana."

Scully felt unwelcome moisture pooling in her eyes. She bit her bottom
lip and left his room before the tears could betray her.



END PART 1

===========x===========
===========x===========


PART 2
------


Scully tried to sleep, tried to put what Mulder had said out of her
head but it held on like a drowning victim to a life raft. For two
hours she tossed and turned, his words replaying in the her mind:

<<You're the most important person in my life right now.>>

<<You fill an emptiness in me I never thought would be filled.>>

<<I need you, in whatever capacity you see fit. Partner, confidante,
friend, _best_ friend...>>

Lover.

Did she want that? To be his lover? Her mind drew upon the memories of
her dream, remembering the complete love and contentment she felt
looking into his eyes as their bodies joined, and the safety she felt
being held in his arms in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

Yes, she did want to be his lover. So much so, it caused a rolling
wave of pain in her stomach when she realized it was something that
couldn't be. Was it possible to make that move to the next level
without it affecting their partnership, or jeopardizing their lives?
She wanted to believe that, she really did, but she didn't see how it
could be done.

Finally giving up the illusion that she would get any sleep, Scully
decided to take a shower, thinking the water might help dissolve the
film of conflicting emotions surrounding her body. She clicked on the
lamp beside the bed.

She should have known better.

Less than two minutes after she turned on the light, a soft rapping
started on the adjoining door. "Scully? Can I come in?"

Scully sighed, knowing she needed to face him but reluctant to do so.
She felt too vulnerable now. She never did handle 'vulnerable' well.

With a deep breath, she relented. "Yeah, Mulder. Come on in."

The door opened slowly to reveal her partner, looking more relaxed in
a pair of well-worn gray sweatpants and a thin white T-shirt. She took
in his attire, along with his disheveled hair and stubbled face. It
wasn't fair that he could look like he had just rolled out of bed yet
still look so enticing.

*This is going to be harder than I thought,* she realized as he
approached her.

"Did you get any sleep?" His voice was tentative.

"I slept about as well as you did," she replied with a thin smile.

His returning grin came across as a grimace. "I'm sorry, Scully. I
don't want to push you but I really put myself out on a limb and..."

"You're right," she said, interrupting him. "You deserve an answer. I
just don't think you're going to like what I have to say."

*Oh boy. Here it comes,* he thought as he lowered his head, trying to
hide the disappointment he knew was reflected in his eyes.

"I care about you, Mulder." She paused as she saw him visibly flinch
as if she had slapped his face. She took a deep breath, trying to
gather her confidence. Despite the pain in her heart, she knew this
was the right thing to do. "Mulder, what we have is special, there's
no denying that. It goes deeper than any relationship I've ever had.
Your friendship means more to me than any other in my life. But that's
all it is. A friendship."

"A friendship," he said, mocking her. "That's all you want?"

"That's all I _need_. That's all you should need from me as well. Even
if there was the desire to make our relationship more...intimate,
_they_ would separate us in a heartbeat. Do you want that?"

He crossed the room, moving toward the wall closest to where Scully
was standing. He leaned against it. "No, Scully. I don't want that.
But we could do this. We could make this work."

"Not if only one of us wants it," she said, her voice low.

Mulder held his anger in check. He expected this exact argument from
her. Sensible, practical Scully, always analyzing the situation. To
death. He didn't believe she meant what she was saying. They were
doing a hell of a dance number, a routine that would put Astaire and
Rogers to shame. But then, he knew that he and Scully were good at
dancing around their feelings. Especially for each other. After four
years, he had finally taken that bold step. Now he wanted her to do
the same.

He approached her, stopping within inches of touching her. His arms
remained at his sides and he stood there until she looked up at him.

"So there it is. The truth. You don't feel the same way."

Scully raised her chin defiantly. "Yes. That's what I'm saying."

Mulder fought a grin. Another shining example of The Scully Lie. The
light uplifting of her chin, the smooth voice, the unwavering yet
guilty look in her eye. He decided to play into her ruse.

"Fine. I can respect that," he said with a terse nod. "I wouldn't want
to force myself on you, Scully. I would never want to betray your
trust or respect in me."

"Thank you," she replied as she started to back away.

"Just do me one favor." He closed the space between them again. "I'm
still curious. Maybe what I feel for you isn't love in the sexual
sense. Maybe I'm confusing what I feel for you with an intimate love,
when it could be something more...basic."

Scully nodded unevenly. "Yes, there are many kinds of love. Don't get
me wrong, Mulder. I _do_ love you..."

"Just not _that way_, right?" he finished.

"Right." Her chin jerked upward with the word.

"I just hate 'what ifs', Scully, so if you'll do me this one favor, I
can resolve this issue with myself once and for all. And I promise,
I'll never broach the subject with you again."

She didn't like the suddenly dark tone of his voice, or the suddenly
dark hue in his eyes. Her head told her to run from the room but her
feet refused to cooperate. Something deep within her body came to the
surface and spoke. "All right, Mulder. What do you want?"

"Will you let me kiss you?"

Scully's head jerked slightly. "Mulder, I just said..."

"I know what you said," he interrupted, raising a hand in front of
him. "You know what your feelings are for me. I'm still wondering what
I feel for you."

"I don't think that would be a wise idea," she said with a guarded
look.

"Why?" he shrugged. "Aren't you curious, Scully?"

She lowered her head. "No."

Mulder reached out, his hand insistent at her chin. She finally raised
her head, her eyes meeting his. Her body stiffened as his fingers
traced along her jawline. Her skin was alive under his fingertips, the
memory of his touch leaving behind a tingling imprint of the contact.

"Not even the tiniest bit curious?" He stepped closer until she could
feel his breath on her forehead. "What could it hurt? If you don't
feel _that_ way about me, then it would be just like...what? Like
kissing your brother, right?"

"Probably," she choked out, her voice almost nonexistent.

"One kiss, Scully. That's all I need." His face moved closer, his nose
glancing over hers. He saw her eyes close just before his lips brushed
against hers, lightly gliding over them, moving side to side, back and
forth. His breath mingled with hers as he continued his achingly slow
seduction of her lips. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and
gently tugged. Her whimper hit his ears and immediately headed south,
pooling low in his groin.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Mulder crushed his mouth to
hers, feeling how soft and pliable her lips were against the pressure
of his. One of his hands moved to the back of her head; the other
snaked around her back, pulling her closer. She relaxed into his
touch, standing on her toes in an attempt to decrease the height
difference between them.

He intensified the kiss, his tongue brushing against her lips,
demanding entrance. She gave him permission on a moan, and he plunged
his tongue into her mouth. His hand tightened its grip in her hair and
he tilted her head back to give him better access. He laved her teeth,
the insides of her cheeks, and finally her tongue, roughly lapping at
it as she returned the action with equal enthusiasm. Her hands went to
his T-shirt and she clutched the cotton material, trying to pull
herself up his body and closer to his mouth.

When he finally broke the kiss, he was on the verge of
hyperventilation. He lowered his forehead to hers and pulled her
closer into his embrace. She went willingly, her own breathing heavily
labored.

"Tell me that was like kissing your brother, Scully," he growled.
"Tell me it meant nothing to you and I'll walk away."

She lowered her head, placing her forehead against his chest. "That
was a dirty, rotten trick, Mulder."

He chuckled, kissing the crown of her head. "All's fair in love and
war."

"None of this is fair," she sighed into his shirt. "I want this as
much as you do but we can't have it."

"Why?" He pulled away to look at her, seeing watery blue eyes when she
raised her head.

"Because this would give them the ammunition they need to bury us."

"Scully, they've already taken so much from us. They took my sister,
my childhood, my family, my career. They took your sister, your faith,
and for three months, your life. I'll be damned if they're going to
take this away from us, too." He released his arms' hold on her,
moving his hands to her face. "They already know you're my weakness,
Scully. They've used you to bring me down before and they'll do it
again. The only way you would be completely safe is for you to leave
me and the X-Files. I would send you away myself if I was strong
enough, but I'm not. I'm a selfish bastard when it comes to you, Dana
Scully. I need you too much."

Scully's eyes filled with tears. She never thought it possible to love
someone as much as she loved Fox Mulder at that moment. A man who
_never_ opened himself to anyone stood before her, his body clothed
yet his feelings naked and unprotected for her to see. What it must
have taken for him to say these words to her, for him to swallow his
pride and own up to needing someone. Needing her.

Her arms tightened around his waist. "I'm not going anywhere, Mulder.
Regardless of what happens between us personally, I _am_ your partner,
and I have no intentions of leaving. You can't get rid of me that
easily." She placed her cheek against his chest, listening to the
rhythmic thumping of his heart. "My major concern is that our
partnership will suffer, whether it be by their hands or ours."

"How, Scully? I've felt this way about you for a long time but I've
been afraid to admit it, even to myself. I've already been accused of
being over-protective where you're concerned." He felt her smile
against his chest. "I would put my life on the line for you even if we
never get beyond our last kiss. How will this affect our partnership?"

She pulled back to look at his face, her stomach fluttering as she saw
how dark his eyes had become. "I don't know. I guess...I guess I'm
afraid that if it doesn't work out the partnership will dissolve."

Mulder's hands went to her shoulders. "Scully, you're condemning us
before we've even started. Like you said, what we have is special,
unique. It's a bond that has yet to be broken despite being dragged to
Hell and back too many times to count. We can handle this."

She hugged him tighter. What he said made sense. They'd had every
trick in the book thrown at them and it had yet to destroy their
relationship. "We'll have to set some ground rules."

A grin of relief spread across his lips. "Of course. No nookie until
the work's done."

"Mulder..." she warned. "We have to keep this as secret as possible.
Skinner might look the other way if we're discreet, but if they force
his hand he would have to reveal it. You know _they_ will make sure
we're separated."

"Fair enough," he said into her hair. "What else?"

Scully made a fist and playfully punched his chest. "Mulder, you're
supposed to be helping."

"Hey, you know me. I hate rules." His hand cleared the hair from her
neck and he began placing light kisses along its creamy expanse.
"Besides, you're the sensible one in the relationship."

"Not when you do that, I'm not." She tried to formulate her next
thought but all her mind could focus on was his lips and the
incredible things they were doing. She tilted her head to the side to
give him better access. "We...ah...need to keep separate hotel rooms
when...uh...we are in the field and...ohhhh..." She gave up when his
tongue traced the whorls of her ear, his breath tickling her skin.

"Go on, Scully. I'm listening," he whispered against her ear before
lifting his head to look at her. His groin tightened when he saw the
light flush on her skin and her eyes fluttering open to reveal dark
blue-green rings surrounding enlarged pupils. He quickly realized it
was a good thing he had never seen that particular look in her eyes
before. It caused his heart, along with another part of his body, to
swell with emotion.

She gave his neck a gentle nudge and he lowered his head, allowing her
to take the lead. He groaned as she took his bottom lip between her
teeth and pulled it farther into her mouth, suckling lightly.

"Scully," he whispered against her mouth before her lips claimed his.
Her tongue darted out, meeting and mating with his as his arms pulled
her closer, pressing his lower body into her stomach. He was beyond
aroused, both physically and mentally.

Inside. He wanted inside. Inside her mind, inside her heart, inside
her body...

*Oh shit.* He broke the kiss abruptly as he remembered one crucial
item they both were about to forget.

Mulder stared at her mouth, her lips swollen and moist. He wanted more
of those lips, to feel them against his mouth again, against his skin,
wrapped around certain parts of his body. He was shaking with desire
but he forced himself to release her from his embrace.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice threaded with concern.

He let his arms drop to his sides. "We both know where this is
heading, Dana. I...we can't continue right now."

Scully's brow furrowed as she tried to understand his logic. "Why? I
_want_ to continue, Mulder, if there was any question..."

"No, not that..." His hand went to her mouth, his thumb lightly
running along her bottom lip. "I'm not packing."

One Scully eyebrow headed toward her hairline. "Packing? I'm afraid
you've lost me..."

"Condoms. I might have one in my garment bag but no guarantees as to
the date of freshness." He paused when he saw her nod in
understanding.  "I think I should find a drug store before we...move
ahead. That is, unless Dr. Scully has some spare latex in her little
black bag," he added lightly.

Scully pursed her lips. "What would you say if I did?"

*She's kidding, right?* Mulder blinked in disbelief.

"You're kidding, right?"

Her lips formed a coy smile as she shook her head.

"Dare I ask why?" he asked as he returned the smile.

"It's an old medical examiner's trick," she said matter-of-factly.
"Whenever I have several vials of blood or other liquid evidence taken
from a scene, I put the vials in an unlubricated condom. That way they
don't clank together, and therefore, don't break and destroy evidence.
The vials manufactured these days are so flimsy, they can break with
the slightest impact, even if they're in separate plastic bags. One
condom will hold four full-size vials quite snugly."

Mulder was flabbergasted. He couldn't remember ever being
flabbergasted in his life. He hated the word 'flabbergasted'. "Why
haven't I seen you do this before?"

"Well, first of all, I didn't want to explain to you what I was doing
with so many condoms in my bag," she said, shooting him a knowing
glance. "Second of all, I don't flaunt the fact that I use them for
this purpose. I try to be as discreet as possible. I don't use them
very often, maybe once every five cases or so. I've only had to use
them three or four times in the past year."

Mulder nodded as he closed the remaining distance between them. One
hand snaked behind her head while the other went to the small of her
back. "So you've only used three or four. That means you should still
have over half a box left."

"You're assuming I bought the package of twelve," she replied, her
voice changing in pitch and texture with each word. "Which I didn't."

He groaned and let his forehead drop to her shoulder. He thought back
to his dream, the single condom and his nearly unsuccessful fight to
keep the word 'control' as part of his permanent vocabulary. But this
was reality, the real Dana Scully. He knew once he got started, there
would be no stopping him, protection or no protection. He didn't have
that kind of will power.

"Please, whatever you do, Scully," he mumbled into her shoulder,
"don't tell me you only have one."

Her hand went to his hair, fingering the soft strands lightly.
"Pathology buys them in bulk. I took a handful before our last case."

Lifting his head, he smiled at her. "A handful?"

"A _big_ handful," she corrected.

Mulder's grin grew impossibly wide.



END PART 2


===========x===========
===========x===========


PART 3
------


Reluctantly leaving Mulder's embrace, Scully moved to her carry-on
bag, which was sitting on the vanity outside the bathroom. She
unzipped one of the inside pouches and retrieved a strip of condoms.
Before she had the chance to count how many were attached, she felt
arms snake around her waist from behind.

She lifted her head to see Mulder staring at her in the mirror, his
desire-darkened eyes burning through her, stoking the fire already
aflame inside her body. Her feelings were so strong for this man,
stronger than she had realized. One touch from him sent waves of
passion crashing through her. There were times when she could barely
contain the emotions she had for him. Now, she could let them break
free of the bindings created by her mind, and show him how much he
affected her.

His eyes broke contact with hers and he dipped his head to her neck.
He placed a tender kiss on the bruise below her ear, eliciting a tight
gasp from her. His eyes met hers again in the mirror and he realized
the gasp was not one of pain but of pleasure.

He released his hold on her waist and moved his hands up her back,
over her shoulders then down her arms. He stroked the length of her
arms over and over, the satin from her pajamas bunching and crinkling
under the weight of his hands.

"God, you feel so good," he whispered in her hair. "How have I been
able to keep my hands off you for so long?"

She smiled shyly. "Force of habit?"

"Stupid habit, if you ask me." He took the condoms from her hand and
looking over his shoulder, he tossed them, watching as they landed on
the edge of the bed. His hands went back to her waist and he pulled
her hips into his, letting her feel his arousal. Dark green met
piercing blue in the mirror once again. "Do you know how badly I want
you?"

"I think I have an idea," she replied as she pressed her hips back
into him.

He moaned as his hands went to her hair, turning her head to the side
and capturing her lips with his. His tongue thrust in and out,
mimicking the gyrations of his hips. Her fingernails dug into his
thighs, the only part of his body she could reach. Releasing her head,
his hands started to stroke her stomach through the material, then
moved to her waist and ribs, and higher still, always teasing but
never quite touching her breasts. Her restless movements only fueled
his hunger to make her mindless with desire.

"Please..." It was more of a breath than an actual word but he got the
message. Loud and clear. His fingers shook as turned his attention to
her pajama top. Cursing as he fumbled with the tiny pearl buttons, he
felt her hands join his in the effort and within seconds the shirt was
open, hanging loosely from her shoulders.

Scully watched as his eyes raked over her reflection in the mirror.
His hands slowly moved up from her waist, his fingers splayed wide
across her skin, pushing the shirt aside as they went. His fingertips
brushed the underside of her breasts and she sighed, letting her
eyelids close and leaning back against him.

"Open your eyes, Scully. Look at me," he demanded, his voice rough
like sandpaper against her ear.

Her eyes fluttered open and locked with his as his hands cupped her
breasts, raising them and crushing them together. Her breath caught in
a sharp gasp and her back arched as her hands reached up and over her
head to tangle in his hair. When his fingers flicked over her already
taut nipples she thought she would burst into flames from the
sensation. Her grip on his hair tightened as she felt the heat
increase throughout her body.

His name left her tongue on the end of low moan and he knew he was
gone. So far gone he had no hope of ever returning. Hearing his name
from her lips in _that_ tone was almost enough to send him over the
edge. Almost, but not quite. From somewhere within himself, he found
enough control to fend off the explosion waiting to detonate in his
groin.

Turning in his arms, she reached for his head again, roughly forcing
it down to hers and claiming his lips before he could utter a word. He
had dreamt that she was this passionate, this responsive but it was
nothing like seeing and experiencing it first-hand. Like layers of
paint protecting a cherished wooden chair, he was slowly stripping
away the protective layers surrounding Dana Scully's emotions,
allowing them to be revealed in their raw, natural form.

Scully could feel herself spiraling out of control. Each of his kisses
breathed new passion into her body, each of his caresses made her feel
alive, beautiful. Loved. Most of all, loved. He hadn't said the words
but she knew. Those words were hard for him to say, harder for him to
believe.

She pulled back quickly, her breath rapid and uneven. "Mulder, I want
you to know that I..."

"No," he interrupted, placing a finger on her lips. "No more talking,
Scully. No more talking and no more thinking." He bent his head to
kiss her lightly. "Only this. You and me."

She nodded in understanding. He didn't need the words right now.
Neither did she.

He took her hands in his and walked to the bed. He sat on the edge,
spreading his legs and coaxing her to stand between them. His head was
now even with her chest and he leaned forward, kissing the valley
between her breasts while pushing the satin shirt from her body,
letting it flutter to the carpet and pool at her feet.

"We'll talk later, Dana, I promise," he whispered roughly, looking up
at her rich blue-green eyes. "We'll work everything out and we'll say
what we want and need to say. Later. Right now, I don't want to think
about anything except what it feels like to be buried deep inside you
when you come."

A tiny whimper escaped her lips. His words and voice created an
earthquake of desire rumbling through her body. She couldn't remember
ever being as aroused as she was standing there before him, naked from
the waist up, listening to his naked words. Leaning down, she kissed
him hard, telling him what he was doing to her in a way no words could
convey.

He broke the kiss and pulled her forward, so quickly her hands went to
his shoulders to steady herself. She cried out as his mouth latched
onto one of her breasts, tugging at the nipple then laving it roughly
before doing the same to the other side.

"God," she gasped as she leaned into him, his arms supporting her full
weight as he continued his oral assault on her skin. He fell back onto
the bed, taking her with him, his mouth still connected to her breast.
Her hands went to his hair, roughly grabbing two fistfuls to get his
attention. It worked. He raised his head and she thrust her tongue
into his mouth, exploring every line, every surface with the voracity
of an eager student desperate to learn a new subject.

He rolled over, covering her with his body for a moment before
slipping off the bed to kneel between her legs. Grabbing the waistband
of her pajama bottoms on both sides, he quickly pulled them down and
off her legs. His hands pushed her legs apart and she felt his
stubbled cheek graze her thigh. She cried out, the sensation prickly
yet erotic at the same time.

She knew what he was going to do. Something she had never allowed
another man to do to her. _For_ her.

"Mulder, no..." she whispered, her voice weak.

"Yesss," he hissed against her leg before planting a kiss on her inner
thigh, then one higher and another higher still. "I want you, Dana.
All of you. Let me in."

She whimpered and bit down hard on her bottom lip. She wanted this.
Her legs shook from how badly she wanted it. Bits and pieces of her
dream flashed in her head, one image quickly replaced by another like
a slide projector out of control: His mouth kissing her, teasing her,
caressing her, stroking her, loving her...

*Give it to him, Dana. Let him take you there. Let him in.*

"Oh God!" Her hands flew to his hair, guiding him to that one place
she wanted to feel his breath, his mouth, his tongue.

Starting at her ankles, he dragged his hands up her smooth legs,
stopping only after he reached her inner thighs. He brushed his
knuckles against the thin scrap of silk, her arousal evident in the
sodden patch under his fingers. His control quickly waning, he yanked
the panties from her skin and tossed them aside. His thumbs parted her
and he let his breath bathe her in moist air as he inhaled in her
heady scent. He smiled as he listened to her whimpers and pleadings.

Finally, his tongue darted out and brushed lightly over her flesh,
already glistening with her need. He heard a sharp gasp then a moan as
he reached out again, laving her like a cat lapping from a bowl of
milk.

Had she let any other man perform this most intimate act upon her? Was
he the first? From her reactions he guessed he was the first, or at
least the first in a very long time. He wanted her to lose control. He
wanted to be the one who made her lose control. He wanted to see his
professional, analytical Dr. Dana Scully writhing in agonizing ecstasy
as she pulsed under his lips. He wanted to make her scream.

He wasn't disappointed.

Her breath quickened into short pants as every sensation in her body
converged at the point where his tongue met the core of her need. Too
much. It was too much too soon. He had barely started and she could
feel the wave cresting, pulling her under. Sounds she never knew she
could make erupted from deep within and flew from her mouth. She
couldn't stop them, she couldn't control them. She felt the
convulsions getting stronger and faster, her release the only thing on
her mind. It felt so good, so good. He knew exactly what to do and
where to do it. How did he know? Must be fate, must be love. Love.
Mustbelove. Ohgod, ohgodohgodohgodohgod...

He took her tiny bundle of nerves between his teeth and tugged once.
Her world exploded.

"MULDER!!"

Her hips came off the bed as she bucked wildly against his face. He
held her, wrapping his arms around her thighs and he rode out the
waves with her, grounding her as she took flight on the wings of a
mind-altering orgasm. She gave herself fully to the sensations surging
through her body, confident that he would be there to catch her. And
he did.

Barely aware of her surroundings, Scully felt herself being lifted and
placed on the center of the bed. She sighed softly as his touch left
her, and a small frown formed on her lips. She heard the rustling of
clothing, then the bed dipped next to her.

She smiled and sighed again when she felt one of his hands on her
stomach. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw him lying next to her,
propped up on one elbow. His soft smile melted her heart.

"Welcome back," he said as his hand slowly stroked her skin. "Was it a
good trip?"

She laughed weakly. "Yeah, the best. I wish you had been there with
me, though."

His head dipped as he kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose.
"I _was_ there, Dana. All the way."

Scully's eyes welled with unshed tears. So many emotions surfacing in
so little time was beginning to take its toll. She felt her control
threatened yet again, this time not by the caress of his hand or mouth
but by the caress of his words.

Her hand went to the back of his head, pulling his head down to hers.
She kissed him with a ferocity she hadn't realized resided in her
body. It wasn't enough to feel his tongue tangle with hers, it wasn't
enough to take the breath from him as he did the same to her. It
wasn't enough. Wrapping her arms around him, she coaxed him to lay
atop her. His hips slid over hers as his arms went to either side of
her head. She could feel him trembling with need, the muscles of his
arms quaking as he tried to stay in control every bit as much as she
had.

He was still fighting to maintain control? No, no, no. She wasn't
going to allow that.

Still locked in a kiss, Scully thrust her hips toward his. They both
moaned as his erection slid between her legs. She lifted her hips
again, creating a friction that sent her senses into overload. She
freed one hand and ran it down his back to his hips, then forward,
reaching between them to hold him in her hand.

He broke the kiss on a gasp, his forehead lowering to her shoulder.
"Ahhh, God. Scully. I..." His voice faded into a moan as she began
stroking the length of him, her grip maddeningly tight. He was able to
stand less than ten seconds of her slow manual assault before stilling
her hand with his own.

Her eyes questioned him and he smiled thinly. "If you don't stop that,
we won't need the condom this time."

"Get it," she bit out.

"What?"

"The condom." She squirmed under his body, her comfort disturbed by
her increasing passion, not by his weight. "I want you. Now."

Mulder swallowed hard. Her last word came out as a growl, and a
command. Not a request, but an order. He happily obeyed, turning on
his back and fishing blindly with one arm, knowing the condoms had
fallen to the floor. If he could just reach a little more...

"Ahhhh..." His searching hand went limp as he felt soft, wet lips on
his abdomen, kissing a path lower and lower until they came in contact
with his painfully hard erection. She kissed the tip, her tongue
darting out to steal away the bead of liquid settled there, then took
in the head, swirling her tongue around and under.

Mulder suddenly had difficulty remembering his name. He tried to speak
but every word came out as an unintelligible grunt or groan. Four
years of sexual tension filled in his body, and all four years' worth
were now residing in his groin. He had waited this long, but not for a
blowjob. There would be time for that later, but this time -- their
first time -- he had something else in mind. Somehow his brain issued
the command for his hands to reach for her head.

"Scully, I'm serious," he whispered harshly. "I'm about ready to
explode and I have every intention of being inside you when I do."

Licking her lips, she nodded and waited for him to find the strip of
condoms. His hands shook as he ripped one from the group, and she took
mercy on him by swiping it from his hand and opening it herself. She
took her time rolling the condom onto his straining flesh, her eyes
never leaving his face as she watched the pleasure-pain illuminate his
features. His eyes were dark and wild, his mouth full and swollen, his
face flush and misted with a thin film of sweat.

Before she had a chance to move, his hands went under her arms and he
lifted her, bringing her to rest on his thighs. She took him in her
hand again while raising her hips, aligning their bodies. She
hesitated, hovering over him, her eyes asking him if he was sure. In
answer his hand went to her face, cupping her cheek, the look in his
eyes washing away any doubt in her mind. She released her leg muscles,
joining their bodies and minds in one move.

Low moans filled the room, followed by complete silence. Both remained
absolutely still, allowing the feel of their bodies coming together to
sink in and flood their senses. Scully was the first to move, running
her hands along Mulder's chest, letting her fingernails linger around
his flat nipples.

He startled her by grabbing her wrists and pulling her down, kissing
her roughly as her head reached his. Letting go of her wrists, he
moved his hands to her waist and he thrust upward while pushing her
body down. The feeling was like no other he had ever known. He had
been with other women but somehow this was different. The joining
wasn't only on a physical level, but on a spiritual one as well.
Feeling himself buried to the hilt inside her was like being able to
touch her soul. Each thrust was an attempt to fuse their bodies into
one. Mind, body and soul, he was hers, and she his. It was a fate
decided long ago. He realized that now, and he suspected she knew the
same.

Holding her close, he flipped them over, pulling out almost completely
then thrusting into her hard, pinning her to the mattress. The throaty
gasp erupting from her mouth bypassed his ears and immediately went
south. Scully pulled her knees up and wrapped her ankles around his
waist, angling herself for his deeper penetration. He continued to
pump into her, faster, harder, using her moans and gasps as his guide
to tell him how she liked it. His thrusts became frantic, his
controlled finesse from before a distant memory. He leaned in and
kissed her hard, his tongue imitating his lower body. Breaking the
kiss abruptly, he moved his mouth over her ear.

"Come on, Dana. Come again for me."

"I can't," she whimpered.

"Yes you can," he whispered roughly. "I want to feel you close around
me, Scully. Let me feel it."

His hand went between their bodies, seeking out her pleasure point. He
found it and massaged it like the string on a violin, stroking it back
and forth, creating a vibrato throughout her body that sent her low
melodic moan escalating into a powerful crescendo, culminating with
his name on the end of a scream.

Her body convulsed around him, her muscles squeezing him like a warm
fist, forcing his own release and her name shouted in a strained
voice. He felt himself pulsing inside her, her body milking him and
extending his own pleasure as he added a few thrusts to extend hers.
Tiny lights flashed behind his closed eyelids, his orgasm so intense
he wavered above her then collapsed, burying his head in her hair.

Labored breathing and contented sighs were the only sounds in the
small hotel room in Mississippi. Neither spoke nor moved, choosing
instead to bask in the aftermath of a completed journey four years in
the making.


===========x===========


"So, was it me?" His finger lightly brushed over the bruise on her
neck. They were still joined, his body over hers but supported by his
elbows on either side of her head. Despite his gesture to move, her
legs remained locked in a vice-like grip at his waist. He wasn't
complaining, though. This is where he wanted to be. This was home. The
first home he had ever welcomed since his youth.

She stifled a yawn. Her breathing had returned to normal and the
lightheadedness dissipated but the euphoria remained. "What do you
mean, was it you?"

"This," he said as he bent his head to kiss the mottled purple skin.
"It's been a while, but I think I can spot a world-class hickey when I
see one." He grinned as he saw the skin on her neck and face flood
with a light red flush. "That's what I thought. Are you ready to tell
me about your dream?"

She opened her mouth to protest but she could see it was futile. He
knew. Somehow he knew she'd had a similar experience but was patiently
waiting until she was ready to tell him. She could tell he wasn't
angry about her not telling him earlier, but she read something else
in his face. Her eyes closed as she realized what it was.

Hurt. He was hurt that she hadn't told him about her dream, that she
hadn't trusted him with the truth.

She was given a few moments to collect her thoughts as he separated
their bodies. A tiny frown crept onto her lips, her body missing his
fullness. He quickly disposed of the condom in a nearby trashcan, then
turned back to her and waited with raised eyebrows.

She sighed. He wasn't going to let her get away with it. He knew and
now he wanted answers.

"Yes, it was you," she said, her eyes lowered. "In my dream, it was
you. I dreamt that we were professors at a university, me in Physics
and Biology, you in Abnormal Psychology."

"That's fitting," he said lightly.

She shot him a stern look before continuing. "You were the same, only
different, but I still felt the connection to you that we've had from
almost the beginning. It was just a dream, of course, but it was vivid
and influential enough to make me realize what I had been trying to
hide from myself for so long."

He kissed her lips tenderly, lingering just long enough to let her
know he understood. "So, Dr. Scully. You say what you had was only a
dream. How do you explain this suspicious-looking bruise on your
neck?"

She shrugged. "It's the physical manifestation of a psychosomatic
trauma, somehow perpetrated by my mind. I've heard of such injuries
occurring but I've never seen one in person."

"A bruise created by your brain," he said with a smirk. "Sounds like
one of my theories."

"The brain is a mystery, Mulder, you know that," she rebutted, her
voice becoming even and professional. "There are functions of the
brain for which we have no explanation of how and why they happen.
Studies have shown it is possible that with enough provocation, the
brain can concoct a scenario so real that a person under severe mental
stress would believe it to be the truth. It is also vaguely possible
that there is enough untapped power in the human brain to create a
physical manifestation of that mental pain."

He nodded thoughtfully as his finger slowly traced around the bruise.
"You present a very valid argument for why you have a hickey. Now how
do you explain the bracelet? Another 'physical manifestation'?"

Her lips pursed. She had no explanation for the bracelet, other than
it was a coincidence. A strange, unexplainable coincidence. She knew
he wasn't going to buy that excuse. He wouldn't let her off the hook
that easily. Her lips curled into a smile. If she couldn't explain her
way out of it, perhaps another tactic would work.

She turned on her side and moved her hand along his arm, tracing the
tight muscle of his bicep. She lifted her head from the pillow, her
lips making contact with his shoulder. She kissed along his
collarbone, across his Adam's apple and to the other side, reveling in
the throaty moans she could feel vibrating through his skin.

"You're avoiding the question, Agent Scully," he said, his voice dark.

She smiled against the skin of his neck. "I'm merely taking a moment
to formulate a theory."

He gasped as she took his earlobe between her teeth. "Then by all
means, take your time. These things can't be rushed."

She laughed, a fluttering, lyrical sound he rarely heard.

"I love it when you do that."

"What?"

"Laugh," he said, brushing auburn strands from her brow. "You have a
sexy laugh. You don't do enough of it."

Her eyes met his. "I could say the same about you."

"Touche'."

Her hands went to his buttocks, squeezing and kneading the flesh.

"I said touche', Scully, not touche."

She laughed again.

"That's my girl," he whispered before capturing her lips, his tongue
seeking hers with a languid passion. The frantic need that had
consumed him earlier was replaced with the contentment of release and
the curiosity of wanting to explore everything about his new lover.

His lover. Scully, his partner _and_ his lover. Just the thought of
being able to be with her, waking with her in his arms, sent a surge
of arousal through his body like a bolt of lightning.

His lover. The thought hit her hard, despite what they had just spent
the last half-hour doing. Could they handle this? Could she? She
realized it didn't matter. She couldn't turn back now, not after
experiencing the feeling of completeness after their lovemaking. He
had told her she kept him whole. He did the same for her. She had to
believe, for it was the truth. Their truth. Still, doubt floated into
her mind like an unwelcome dark cloud.

He sensed the change in her posture and broke the kiss. "What is it?"

"Mulder, is this going to work?"

Seeing fear in her blue-green eyes, he smiled softly. "Of course this
is going to work. Why would you think otherwise?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just..." She paused as she looked in
his eye. "I _really_ want this to work, both personally and
professionally, but..."

"But what?" He urged her with his eyes, telling her without words that
it was all right to have doubts and that they needed to get them out
in the open.

"Can we do this? I mean, can we do the work and this?" She gestured
between them.

"Scully, you and I together can do anything," he said as he stroked
her cheek. "Look at everything we've accomplished in our work. I could
never have done so much alone. We're good together, Scully. Damn good.
The physical part is just an extension of what has always been here."

She conceded with a nod. "This won't be easy, you know."

"Since when has anything with us been easy?"

Scully laughed, then turned her head to the side and kissed the palm
of his hand that lay on her cheek. A glimmer of gold caught her eye on
the side table. Mulder followed the path her eyes had taken and saw
the object that held her gaze. He reached for the bracelet, unhooking
the clasp before securing it around Scully's wrist.

His finger traced the gold chain. "Are you going to give this back to
your mom?"

Raising one eyebrow, she looked at him with amusement. "Why would I
give this to my mom? It's not hers."

"Yes it is."

"Mulder, this is not the same bracelet. This is just a coincidence.
You must have found..."

He silenced her with a firm kiss, her protests smothered by his lips.
He pulled back quickly and raised a finger.

"You said we need to set some ground rules. Here's number one: No
arguing in bed."

She pursed her lips, fighting a grin. "I wasn't arguing. I was
presenting the only _sound_ theory for the appearance of this..."

His lips crushed hers again, and she batted playfully at his arms.
They broke the kiss mutually, both laughing.

"OK, OK, you win," she surrendered with mock protest. "No trading
theories in bed."

His face beamed with a victory smile as he lowered his head to her
stomach, settling in with a contented sigh. Her hand went to his head
and she combed her fingers through his soft hair. He reached for her
free hand and took the charm between his forefinger and thumb.

"You're of Irish descent, Scully. So tell me what this symbol means?"

"It means luck," she said as she looked at her clover. "Everyone knows
that."

"No, I don't mean that. I mean, what's the story behind it?"

Scully bit her bottom lip as she thought about Ahab and his legend of
The Wish. She thought about telling Mulder about it but decided it was
best saved for another time. Maybe she would show him the clover patch
behind the hotel. *Maybe not,* she chuckled to herself.

She opted for a safer explanation. "I'm not sure what the actual
legend behind it is, but my mom told me once that when God created
clovers, He made one leaf for hope, one for faith, one for love and He
threw in a fourth one just for luck."

Mulder smiled as he continued to run his finger over the charm and
along her wrist. A brief silence filled the room before he spoke.

"I guess that would make you a four-leafed clover, Scully."

"What?"

He put his arm across her stomach and laid his head on his arm,
looking at her through hooded eyes. "You're my four-leafed clover. I
find all of those things in you." He took her hand, twining his
fingers around hers. "With you, I have the hope that I will find the
truth as long as you're by my side. With you, I have found the faith
to believe in what we do and to continue the search. With you, I have
found a love I never thought I would know. And the luck..." He stopped
as a knowing smile formed on his lips. "Well, as much trouble as I get
myself into, without you there to cover my ass, I'd have been a dead
man a long time ago."

Scully swallowed the lump rising in her throat, and she fought the
tears that suddenly flooded her eyes. She cleared her throat before
she dared to speak.

"Mulder, that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me." Her
hand went to his face, caressing his cheek. He raised his head from
her and moved up her body, claiming the kiss she had waiting for him.
A soft kiss, filled with emotions both spoken and silent.

When he broke the kiss, he grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, didn't mean to
get sappy on you."

"As long as you meant it, I don't mind. Not at all."

"Of course I meant it." Emotion surged in his voice. "I wouldn't have
said it otherwise."

Smiling, she kissed his arm. "You know I feel the same way, don't
you?"

"Yeah," he whispered, "I know."

She leaned in for another kiss, her mind in awe of the man before her.
She never knew such love could exist, especially in a man whose whole
life was plagued with constant reminders of how love could be used to
hurt others. She made a solemn vow to show Fox William Mulder every
day just how much he was loved.

His lips left hers to kiss the curves of her neck. She ran her hands
up and down his back, her nails lightly grazing his skin. She could
feel his body stirring with arousal, and his mouth was awakening her
body as well.

She couldn't resist getting in one last comment. "Could it be that
beneath that cool exterior and that biting humor, beats the heart of a
hopeless romantic?"

He raised his head and snorted. "No way, Scully. Not me. You must be
dreaming."

"Not this time, Mulder," she whispered as she ran a finger along the
contours of his bottom lip. "Not this time."



END PART 3
END OF 'THE WISH III'
END OF SERIES!

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let me know what you thought of The Wish series.