From: "Jenna Brown" Subject: Submission NEW "All We Know of Heaven" Title: All We Know of Heaven Author: Jenna Brown Address: jb336@email.byu.edu Rating: 17+. Not for the kiddies or those of tender constitutions. Category: S, R (IF I ever figure out these classifications I will be highly amazed.) Spoilers: Not really. Keywords: Angst, angst, and angst some more. MSR, of course. Summary: A meditation on the nature of evil. And some sex, what the hell. Disclaimer: Hi, Chris, can Mulder and Scully come out to play? I promise we'll be back by suppertime. I do this out of love and to put off studying for finals. No money has exchanged hands. Taking it would make me feel kinda dirty, anyway. "Breath Away From Heaven" is by George Harrision, my favorite living Beatle. I think Goethe's "Faust" is in the public domain. (Anyone who knows German, feel free to correct mine, I'm a little rusty.) Note: This is a little gloomy, then a little sappy. I'm in a weird mood: I have a tall hazel-eyed boy of my own to drive me crazy, what do I need Mulder for? (Ask a silly question . . .) Listening to the Indigo Girls's eponymous album would be a good soundtrack, especially "History of Us" (which would make a great title for a story too, hmm. . .) Erotica? Mind candy? An honest attempt at character study? You be the judge. Mulder closed the hotel room doon and leaned against it, breathing deeply. He unknotted his tie and threw it aside, and it was followed by his jacket and his shoes. He lay down on the bed and put his arm over his eyes. Awful. Worse than awful. Horrific. The bodies. The bones. The blood, stored and labeled as if by a scientist. . .which was what the perp had thought he was, a scientist, testing the thresholds of pain. . . And now put away. For good, Mulder hoped. For life. A soft knock sounded on the door, just once. He got up and opened it, not caring who it was. And when he saw Scully standing there, he smiled despite himself. "Hi," she said gently. "I thought you might want to talk." "I'm not sure I can talk just now." The expectant look on her face crumpled. "Oh. Okay." She started to turn away. Mulder said quickly, "I would like some company, though. If you want to just sit." "I can do that." She entered the room and closed the door. *I may get through this night after all,* Mulder thought. She hadn't seen the sheer number of bodies, the stacks of vials. The rows of skulls, some no bigger than his fist. Tomorrow she would know. Tonight she didn't need to. He sat down on the bed and Scully sat down beside him, and took one of his hands in both of hers. He looked down at her hands, marvelling at how small they seemed compared to his. His forefinger was as long as her entire hand. His fingers easily encircled her wrist. She smelled of vanilla, and her skin was cool. "What?" she said softly. She raised one hand to his cheek, cupping his face. He had to tell her. It was choking him. "He thought he was doing research," he said dully. "On anybody. He didn't care. People from all walks of life, Scully. Children. Old people. Homeless. Professionals. It didn't matter." "So why do you think he chose you?" "Because I'm so damn normal, I guess. The perfect demographic." She went on stroking his cheek. The lines on his forehead, around his eyes. Smoothing him down like someone stroking a cat. He wished he could curl up in her lap and let her make everything all better. Make it all go away. "I read the statement you gave the police." Oh, god. She did know. Even the officer who'd taken his statement had looked green with revulsion. What must she be thinking, was she ashamed for him, pitying him? "I think," she said softly, "that you were very brave. That you acted with prudence and foresight under difficult circumstances. And I think you're blaming yourself for what happened and I want you to stop." "I can't just turn it off, Scully." "No, you can't. But you don't have to wallow in it, either." She leaned against him, putting one arm around his shoulders and clinging tightly to his hand with the other hand. "You saved three lives today. Maybe more. Without you they wouldn't have found him, wouldn't have caught him. He would have gone on, doing what he was doing, and no one could have stopped him. But you did. You did, Mulder. You stopped the evil for another day." "That's as long as it will last," he said. "A day, or less." She sighed. She was not going to argue with him over that. She knew as well as he did that the evil never stopped, that they spent their lives fighting a flood with an eyedropper. She rubbed his shoulders, centering on the tightness between his shoulderblades. "You are so tense," she observed, and moved to kneel behind him, her educated hands rubbing deeper and deeper against his bones. Mulder closed his eyes and let his head drop. It eased a little bit, the fear, the despair. He said, before he realized he was speaking out loud, "He wanted you next. That's why--" His eyes flew open and he stood up. Her hands had stopped almost as soon as he spoke. He looked down at her, kneeling there, and saw a look on her face he'd never wanted to bring, horror and fear. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to tell you that." She shook her head, leaning back on her heels. "I'm glad you did. That's why you let him--" "Bleed me." "Bleed you." Again she sighed. "To protect me. Oh, Mulder. Bargining with the devil." "He and I are old friends." "Don't talk like that." "I feel like I'm Faust. Knowledge in exchange for my soul." "But Faust won, Mulder. The devil didn't get his soul." "Not in every version." He leaned against the bureau, gripping its edge. "Faust is a lesson, Scully, a warning. Thou shalt not want to know too much. Asking too many questions is the surest way to hell." "But in more enlightened times, people realized that knowledge makes us strong. It's the misuse of knowledge that brought down Faust, and when he learned to use it wisely he was forgiven. Redeemed. 'Stehe, Momente, du bist so schoene.'" "What?" "From the poem. Goethe's poem. 'Stay, moment, thou art so beautiful.' It's what Faust says when he realizes he wants to live for the sake of good. Using his knowledge to help people. And angels come down and release him from his bargin with Metistopheles, and take him to heaven. Happy ending." "I don't believe in angels, Scully." This came out in almost a wail. *Make me believe in angels, Scully, you're the only angel I know.* "Well," she said softly. "It's just a story." She unfolded her legs and stood up, and put her hands on top of his. There was a look in her eye he couldn't read. Was afraid to read. She was so close to him. A breath away. Wasn't that a song lyric--"She can take the breath away from heaven, she is like an everlasting blossom--" He lifted his hands, their hands, and moved away from her. Her presence was comforting, but terrifying in its way. She was like fire. She could burn him without even realizing it. "Do you think it was going on even then, when people believed in ogres and devils? Do you think even then the people in power knew the truth, and kept it from them?" he said. "Ogres still exist, Mulder. You faced one last night." "He was just a man." "They were also just men. The ogres and the devils and the werewolves, the vampires and the ghouls. Men and women, ordinary people, who decided evil was easier than good. That's all." "Evil *is* easier than good." "Oh, Mulder." "It's hard to be good." He laughed hollowly. "It sounds so shallow, doesn't it? It's hard to be good. To restrain, to forgive, to control yourself." "'Evil is easy, and has infinite forms,'" she quoted softly. "Pascal." "So why do we do it, Scully? What's the reward for goodness? Why bother, when evil will always win?" "Evil rarely wins, Mulder. No evil lasts forever. The Berlin Wall fell. Hitler shot himself. Dictators are disposed, freedoms are restored. Evil ends, Mulder. The majority of the people in the world restrain, control, and forgive." "I wish I could believe that." Scully had wrapped her arms around herself. He could see the goosebumps on her skin. *I'm scaring her,* he thought. *She's afraid of me. For me.* "Go to bed, Scully," he said. "It's late." "You're the one who just got out of the hospital." "I'm juiced on fresh blood," he said, and grimaced at how it sounded. "Mulder. I'm saying this as a doctor and a friend. I want you to put on your pajamas and lie down in the bed, and I am going to stay with you until you sleep." "I'm not going to sleep." "Yes, you are. And if you have nightmares I'll make them go away. And if you want me to be here when you wake up, I will be." He studied her, tears filling his eyes and a lump building in his throat. "Yes, you will, won't you," he said despite his trembling lips, and when she embraced him and pulled his head to her shoulder he did not fight her. She held onto him as the sobs shook through him. She guided him to the bed and sat him down, murmured soothingly to him, stroked his hair, kissed his face. Kissed his mouth. Kissed his mouth again. And again. And Mulder realized he was in trouble, because he didn't want her to stop. He was holding his life in his arms--letting her go, making her go, would be the end of him. He needed this night. He needed her. He cupped her face in his hands and gently pushed her far enough away so that he could see her eyes. They held nothing but love and concern and tenderness. He said softly, "You are the only brightness in this dark world, Scully," and she smiled. "Tell me what you want, Mulder. Tell me what you need me to do for you." "Let me love you." "Always." She kissed his fingers, one by one. "I mean. . ." "I know what you mean. I want you to. I don't know how long I've wanted you to. Maybe from the first day." "I don't have any protection. It wasn't exactly on my mind." She smiled a tiny bit and said, "And I didn't think a moment passed without it on your mind. What a pleasant surprise." "Do you trust me?' "Yes." Mulder released the breath he had not known he was holding, and kissed her, holding onto her hands tightly. They kissed for he didn't know how long, doing nothing more than holding each other's hands. Mulder wondered breifly if he actually was up to this, if maybe her idea of just sleeping wasn't the better one. His body and Scully had other ideas, though, and eventually she removed her hands from his and began to run them over him, not just the safe zones of his face and neck, but his back, his arms, his chest. Her fingers flicked lightly over his nipples, and Mulder chuckled despite himself. "What?" she murmured, moving her legs over his. She fit into his lap as if she'd been made only for him. "Take control of me, Scully. You show me the way." "New role for you, eh?" "Not entirely. But remember, you did promise to be with me tomorrow moring." "I will be." "That's good, that's good. . ." And he wasn't sure if he meant her kisses or her promise. She unbuttoned his shirt, kissing him as she went, and he lay down slowly, pulling her down with him. She was wearing just a t-shirt and jeans, her off-hours clothes, and Mulder ran his hands up and down her arms, feeling the strength of her small lithe body, wondering that this woman should love him. Him, of all people. He said, "Scully, tell me something." She looked up at him through the curtain of her hair and waited for his question. "This isn't a pity fuck, is it?" She actually laughed. "The last thing I feel for you is pity," she said in a low voice, and Mulder shivered, wondering how many men had been lucky enough to hear that particular tone. Her voice turned him on at some of the most inappropriate moments, and it was working its magic now. "If I pitied you, Mulder," she went on, one finger lightly tracing a path down his sternum to his navel and back up and around, "you can bet tonight would involve hot cocoa and a bedtime story, and we both would stay fully dressed." "So now I know what to look out for." "Just one of my many secrets, my dear." Her finger hesitated at the bandage below his left nipple, and she looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before bending her head to gently kiss him through the bandage. He sighed and ran his hand through her hair, and brought her up to kiss her again. "You taste like a peach," he said when they parted. "Um, thank you. You taste like chocolate." "They gave me brownies at the hospital, for energy. Just like donating blood." "Oh, sweetheart." She went on kissing his chest, letting her hair trail over his skin. She took one nipple into her mouth and sucked him, very gently. Mulder's breath was becoming shallow and fast, and he began to stir under her restlessly. She looked up. "Too slow?" "You set the pace, babe." "I think you want me to hurry things up a little." "Well, just a little." "Like this?" She rose up on her knees and pulled her t-shirt up over her head. She shook out her hair and tossed the shirt aside. She unhooked her bra and shrugged it off, and then took his hands and cupped them over her breasts. Mulder moaned and his hands tightened on her, and he sat up and moved his hands to her waist and took one breast into his mouth. Scully gasped and her head fell back for a moment before she kissed the top of his head, moving just enough so that he had to capture and recapture her breast. Finally he growled, "Hold *still*, Dana," and she did with a low chuckle, bracing herself against him, settling her knees further apart and digging her fingers into his shoulders. He lapped and suckled her, moving from one breast to the other until she pushed him onto his back and unbuckled his belt, her hands shaking with eagerness. He helped her undress himself and then her, and they lay naked side by side for a moment, looking at each other with wonder and joy. "Is this real?" he said. "If it's not, it's one hell of a dream." They kissed each other, smiling. She kissed his body slowly, pausing only to look up at him once in a while, her eyebrows raised as if she was asking permission. And he always granted it. When she was through exploring him she lay herself full-length against him, her feet reaching somewhere around his knees. As she kissed him again Mulder put his hand tentatively between her thighs, needing to know if she was as eager for him as he was for her. She felt heavy, hot. Slick. Juicy. *For me,* he thought, *for me.* He deepened their kiss and removed his hand. After a moment, she put it back, and guided his finger to her clitoris. He rubbed her slowly, and her hips moved in rhythm with his hand. She broke their kiss and straightened herself over him, her face tense with conentration as she moved her body against his hand, as if every thought and nerve and muscle were focusing on the tip of his finger and her clitoris. Her breathing was sharp, fast. She grabbed the headboard and used it as a brace, and her head lolled and her eyes were closed, and Mulder watched in fascination as he felt the orgasm go through her, starting right under his finger and pooling out to her fingertips, to her toes, and she cried out. His name. His name. She bent over him, still holding the headboard, and smiled shyly, opening her eyes at last. "Sorry," she said quietly. "That was a little unfair." "That was nice." "It's been a while. I just wanted to come." "More fun than masturbating." "Oh, definately." She kissed him, and reached down to encircle his member with her hand. What she found met with her approval, and she moaned in her throat as they kissed. He removed her hand and pulled her down to him so that they lay pressed against each other again, and then gently turned her onto her back. Her legs fell open and then she wrapped them around him as he slid into her. So wet. So tight. "Oh, that's *good*," she breathed as he moved within her, and she urged him on with her hands and her voice and her mouth, until Mulder lost himself in a flurry of movment, of hips and breasts and lips and legs, until all he could hear were her cries and his breath, until he could see it feel it hear it, she'd come for him, she'd come because of him, she was coming and he was coming and it was heaven, it was paradise, it was all that mattered-- And it was done. He tried to keep his weight off her but his limbs felt heavy, nearly useless. He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him, and she curled herself around him. She trailed her fingers over his sides, his chest, his back, and her inner muscles fluttered around him and she kissed him delicately. But all he could do was hold her. Eventually her hands slowed and she simply lay against him. He said, "So it wasn't love that saved Faust, was it." "Hmm? Not really. Agape, not eros." "Agape," he repeated. "Brotherly love." "Mmm. Not as much fun." "No, not much fun." "Well, it is just a story." She nodded, yawning. "Sleepy girl," he teased gently. "You're not the only one who's had a hard time. I didn't know where you were for two days. Not even a call. I was scared." He rubbed her back slowly. "I'm sorry." "Wasn't your fault." She yawned. "Scully." "Hmm?" "Did you--when you knocked, where you planning this?" "No." "Hmm." "Okay, I was hoping. . .I was prepared to take advantage of any opportunity that arose." "A-ha. Let the record show that you seduced me." "Absolutely. Took advantage of your vulnerability. Do you mind?" "Not at all." "Good." They were silent for a time. Her breathing deepened, even out. She was asleep in his arms, or nearly so, when he said, "Scully." "Hmm." "Tomorrow." "Hmm?" "Tomorrow. . .I think we should sleep in your room." "Tomorrow we'll be back in Washington." "Oh, yeah." "We'll stay at my apartment." He grinned. "Okay," he said, and finally allowed himself to sleep, knowing she would be there in the morning. End. * * * * "Love is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell." Emily Dickinson. Responses? Yes, please. Validation makes it all worth while. (Well, that and ice cream.) "Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup." --borrowed from Dawson Rambo, at whose word processor I worship. "Men are made for happiness, and he who is completely happy has the right to say to himself, 'I am doing God's will on earth.'" -- Dostoyevksy. Why do I write? Well, it's more fun than sleeping. "Mulder smelled good. He looked good too, good enough to bite down on and chew." -- "One Night, When Scully Faced the Truth" by Madeleine Partous.