AUTHOR: Crash

E-MAIL: lunagrl@peoplepc.com

CATEGORY:VMSR

RATING: NC-17 contains graphic language and sex

SPOILERS: Up to US 5

KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance

SUMMARY:

This story is the follow-up to frogdoggie's "Penny for Your Thoughts." It's a stream of conscious vignette told from Scully's point of view. Read "Penny" before you read this.

ARCHIVE:

Yes please. Just make sure my name, e-mail addy and disclaimer stay with it.

DISCLAIMER:

Mulder, Scully, Langly, Byers, Frohike, Skinner and the X-Files belong to Chris Carter, 10-13 Productions, Fox Broadcasting and the actors who portray them. No infringement is intended. Frog and I just wanted to have a little mischievous fun with 'em.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: OK, this is my first collaboration and I'd first like to say a word of thanks to frogdoggie for asking me to do the Scully side of this piece. Thanks frog, this was too much fun! This piece contains VERYEXPLICIT consensual sex between our heroes, run far, far away if you are under 18. Feedback of the constructive nature is always welcome at lunagrl@mcafeemail.com.

My Two Cents

By Crash

The rain is beginning to let up, but I still hear it splashing on the sidewalk outside the Cedars Motel. Ordinarily, it would lull me to sleep. Ordinarily, the rhythmic pitter pat would make my unusual surroundings fade away and ultimately allow my conscious to fade away. But then again, ordinarily I'm not in bed with Fox Mulder.

God!

I suppose it would be easier to sleep if the incredible human alarm clock next to me didn't keep waking up every hour on the hour. But it's no so bad. Every time he wakes up, I feel him pull me closer or touch me. Once he even kissed my forehead. He seems to need to keep checking on me; afraid I've disappeared. I guess we're both a little in awe of what's happened. I still can't get over the fact Mulder's attracted to me.

I'm still calling him Mulder. There was a time when I wanted to call him Fox. He stopped me though. I wasn't sure why at the time. I surmised it was because he wanted to keep a certain distance between us. After all, he did think I was a spy for the longest time. But as we grew closer as partners, I found it hard to call him anything else. He's just Mulder, like I'm just Scully.

I suppose he let Phoebe call him Fox. Bitch. I barely knew her but I didn't like her. I suppose I knew even then that I was in love with him. But seeing him with Phoebe, I just knew I wasn't the type of woman he'd want. She was tall and willowy and I'm...short. I mean, it's not that I think I'm unattractive. A lot of men have a thing for redheads. But I just never thought of myself as a siren like Phoebe. But I felt like siren tonight. I'm positive I made as much noise as one. God. The way he touched me and the things he said...

So long Pheebs.

I let out a satisfied little sigh. For the first time this evening, I've actually started to relax. I still can't believe this happened. I mean how did we...

Well I suppose it all started when I almost lost him.

We flew out to Wisconsin to track down a serial killer. Your run of the mill, sick as hell serial killer, named Lucas Buck. Mulder kept going on about how he shared the same name as some character on some now defunct television show. I don't watch much TV. I just gave him the eyebrow.

Buck was giving Mulder fits. He started taunting him from the word go. It scared the hell out me. I know how wrapped up in these cases Mulder can get. He such a proficient profiler he gets in way too deep and sometimes I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to pull him out.

Lucas Buck claimed he was possessed by the Devil. No news event there, he and fourteen million other nutcases were Satan incarnate. Yeah, I'll tell Peter Jennings. But Mulder is Mulder. He just had to come out here. Had to see for himself. So I found myself in Wisconsin, near Manitowoc, I'm not even sure I can pronounce that.

But the simple fact is it's just like every other weird case we go on...he always ends up in trouble. It usually starts when he's trying to protect me. God I hate it when he does that. It's as if he thinks I can't take care of myself. Are you OK, Scully? Are you sure you should be working so soon after your father's death, Scully? You're so weak from the cancer, Scully. Then he goes off on some wild goose chase, ditches me, gets in trouble and I have to pull his ass out of a sling.

At least it's a nice ass.

Tonight was no different. He leaves me outside this damn cow barn, I hate cows, so he can go flush our sociopath of the week out. Before I can say "remotely plausible," Buck sneaks up on him and overpowers him.

The next thing I know, I'm standing in this filthy barn, eau de cow filling the air holding a gun on Buck while he holds this really ugly knife on Mulder. I planted my feet firmly as if that would give me some form of support. I had to hold myself rigid. I didn't want that bastard Buck see me shake.

"Federal Agent! I am armed and I will not hesitate to shoot." Buck fixed me his wild eyes. God, I knew it was bad. His seemed to be laughing at me, mocking me, trying to intimidate me. It was working.

"Go ahead, you bitch, shoot him!"

Buck knew the odds. He knew I didn't want to shoot my partner. I felt the terror rising in my blood. I couldn't let him die, not by my hand and not by the hand of this maniac. I was so scared. I know I'm a good shot but I couldn't risk hitting Mulder. God if I killed him...Even if I could get a clean shot, I knew I'd run the risk of Buck still having enough strength to stab Mulder. I gripped my gun tighter.

Then Buck's eyes got wilder. He starts telling Mulder, "The Devil is going to take you Fox, you're going to Hell." If only he knew. Mulder's been in his own private hell for years. Ever since those bastards took his sister, killed his father...took me and gave me cancer. Mulder blames himself for all of it. He takes the weight of the world on his shoulders and then heaps on some more.

Lucas seemed really distracted with all of his ranting and raving. I decided, maybe this was the chance I needed. "But Lucas, who is that behind you?" I still don't believe it. The idiot actually turned sideways. Pure adrenaline. I barely remember squeezing the trigger. I hit him square in the temple. I guess Mulder is right. I am a good shot.

The rest happened in slow motion. As he fell, Buck's knife dug into Mulder's left shoulder. I heard the words, "NO!" leave my lips and then I was running to him. More adrenaline. Mulder looks OK, he actually looks perturbed. I dimly think he must be pissed he ruined his suit. Mulder is kind of cheap. He was probably worried about blowing his expense account for the week.

So with one hand I'm trying to stop the bleeding, with the other I'm calling an ambulance. At the moment, I'm terribly glad I have his injury to concentrate on because if I didn't I'd be reading him the riot act. I get so tired of this. It really scares me when he gets hurt.

It makes me think about losing him and if I lost him all the things I wanted to say to him but have never bothered to say to him...it just infuriates me. He knows better than to do stupid things like this, but he refuses to let that get in the way of his quests.

So we get to the Manitowoc Municipal Hospital, say that three times fast, and I'm not exactly instilled with confidence. The orderlies don't seem to know what to do with a man who has a really bad knife wound. Have they not heard of stitches in Wisconsin? So I flash my ID around and finally we start getting some attention.

God he is bleeding so badly. "Will someone please stitch this man up, NOW!" I looked at him and I fight the feelings that pop into my head. If that knife had gone a little further to the right he could have hit Mulder's heart and broken mine. I guess it already is broken.

I'm in love with this man I'm not supposed to love. The fact that I've never told him this, the fact that I feel like I can't tell him this upset me almost as much as this damn intern who wouldn't know how to sew on a button let alone stitch up Mulder's wound.

The intern is so inept he accidentally stitches outside the Lidocaine boundary. Mulder isn't amused and he shoots me a dirty look. Me. I'm sitting here trying to make sure he doesn't have a crack the size of the one in the Liberty Bell running up his shoulder and he has the audacity to say to me, "Scully, cut the guy some slack, he's probably sewn up more warm bodies than you have." So I walk out. He doesn't need me. I don't want to be around him. "Stop lying to yourself, Dana."

Bastard.

Why does he do that? I try to help him and he goes and says something like that. It's like he's so afraid of my concern he has to spite me so I'll go away. Sometimes he can be so sweet and caring. When I'm hurting, he's like that and I always have to push him away, his concern can be too much. And just when I think his concern maybe something warmer than that he goes and makes some smart-ass remark. No, he doesn't feel that way for me. But I can't help feeling I'm missing something here.

I sit in the waiting room in some horrible avocado colored chair. I'm rubbing my hands along my thighs and then wringing them together. Finally, I cross my arms over my chest and just breathe. I'm so mad I can do little else. I've run out of things to do. I've already talked with the police and the coroner and there is nothing left to do but wait for his highness to come back out.

Suddenly, he's standing in front of me in his undershirt. God what I wouldn't give to take it off him again. Dana, stop thinking like that, you're supposed to be mad at him remember. I still feel the heat of my anger radiating off of me, or is it something else? He's wearing the look, the one best described as kicked puppy. The look that says, "Aw c'mon Scully, I'm hurt and you're supposed to take care of me," even though his lips were saying just the opposite a few minutes ago.

Jerk.

"Mulder, put your suit coat back on, it's getting chilly outside."  He wants me to be nice to him but I just can't manage it now. I'm too mad. He's pushed me too far. He deserves it. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve so much of the stuff he's forced to endure. I hang my head and walk out of the ER. I just can't face him when I feel like this.

So we get back to the motel. The Cedars Motel. Might as well call it Horror Inn. It looks like something out of one of those B horror movie's Mulder's always watching. Even the clerk was Spooky. He and Mulder should get together, I scoff mentally. Then I kick myself for thinking it. He hurt me, but he was hurt himself. I can't complain about this. We've had too bad of a day and the fact we've been in our rooms exactly 10 seconds and he's already knocking on my connecting door means he's already sorry. I should feel bad about making him feel guilty. I almost don't.

I open the door and I'm fighting the waterworks with all my might. I can't let him see how scared I was today. I can't let him know that if he dies I might as well die with him. In many ways, Mulder has become more important to me than my own family. He even seems to understand me better than they do.

I manage to raise my eyebrow at him. My trademark gesture that let's him know I'm listening. I'm trying to keep my face as impassive as possible. He's a nervous wreck. He stumbles through an apology. Something we're both bad at. "Sorry, Scully I was a jerk. I was in pain, I didn't know what came over me." Then he wants to go to dinner, his treat, I mentally want to remind him it's the FBI's treat and they ought to after today. I can't believe he can even think about food right now. My stomach is in a million knots.

He wanders off to take a shower after I admonish him not to get his dressings wet and I'm left in the solitude of my room. I'm almost mad at myself for forgiving him. But how could I not. So many other things have been denied him, who am I to keep up that trend. I fiddle with the remote control and find nothing remotely interesting on television.

This is why I don't watch it. So I'm left with my thoughts. I keep trying to blot out the mental pictures of that knife gouging into his arm but I can't. I also can't fight the thoughts of what living my life without him would be like. I touch the cross around my neck as if to ask God to give me strength. I finally have admitted to myself that I love this man. Why does that hurt so much?

I've kept up the good fight for so long. I was attracted to him from the word go. I guess he appealed to my inner rebel, that part of myself I seldom let out. He is such a "bad boy" always acting on impulse and without care for what our superiors might think. Things I would never think of doing but wish I could. But no, I always want to please those in authority, just like I always wanted to please my father. Now Mulder is my authority figure. I often have no idea how to please him. I know how I'd like to try.

A knock at my door announces he's ready to go. He looks much better now. He's clean and all the traces of our earlier nightmare are gone from his body. I just wish they'd leave my mind. He always looks good to me, but he especially looks good when he's in casual clothing. I love Mulder in jeans. They hug his body, not to mention that rear end I'm so fond of, in all the right places. I often have to fight the urge to reach out and touch him. His Levi's have always managed to make my fingers itch.

"How's the arm?" I ask, fighting for something to say. He gives me a lopsided grin and tells me he even kept the bandage dry. I can't help but smile back. He stares just a little too long at my mouth. I lick my lips in a nervous response and look down.

I find if I stare into Mulder's face too long, I get distracted. His eyes always suck me right in. The deep, soulful hazel depths that have seen so much. Despite the golden flecks that dance with mischief around his pupils, Mulder's eyes always seem so haunted. They also seem so sincere. The sincerity I find there makes me more than willing to throw caution to the wind and do just whatever he wants. Yes, it's best if I look away from him at this moment.

He says he saw a Perkins down the street. I could care less where we eat. I'm not even hungry. I couldn't be. My body is still suffering from sensory overload. I'm a little surprised at Mulder's lack of appetite when we get to the restaurant. He barely eats his burger. He usually inhales them in one gulp.

After about my fifth cup of coffee, my already fried nerves are really jangling and I force myself to look out the window. I don't think I can take another close call like today. Now that the cancer is in remission I've wanted to do nothing but embrace life. But cases like this make me face death. I've faced my own death and I'm no longer afraid. But I can not face Mulder's. I will not. He came so close today and if he had he would have died not knowing all that I feel for him. I don't want to lose him with that regret over my head. He's suffered so much.

He deserves to know someone loves him and desperately wants him to love them back. Not out of pity but out of sheer love, need and desire.

Need. I need Mulder. It's something I struggle to admit but he's become a piece of me. Like it or not, he is my other half. We form the two parts of some tangled whole, like the snake on my back. The snake that is swallowing itself. I often wonder who is swallowing whom.

"Penny for your thoughts," he says, startling me out of my reverie.

I smile at him and make some inane remark about it raining. He looks so tired and a little sad. He's seen my eyes and can sense my dark thoughts. He feels guilty about it. Dammit Mulder, why do you do that to yourself? Damn you Lucas Buck for doing this to us.

Finally, we go back to the hotel and go back to our respective rooms. Usually, I relish this time to myself. I take off my clothes and head for the shower. I turn the water on as hot as it will go. Usually that helps to release the stress of the day. The warm water flowing over my body is merely an attempt to take away the dirt, the grime, the knots and the pain. The harder I scrub the more I realize how futile it is.

I step out of the shower and towel myself off. Then the real waterworks start. I'd been fighting them since we were in that godforsaken hospital. But I'm too weak and tired to fight now so I let them fall. I step into my boring white pajamas and find my way into the darkness of my hotel room.

Fitting. I want it to be dark, because I am in the dark mentally. My life used to be so clear and with distinct direction. Now it's a murky flotsam and jetsam of mutants, aliens and conspiracy theories. The one constant in my life is the one thing I can not have. Mulder. I want to love him and I want him to love me, but I can't...we can't because of who we are.

I collapse on the bed in a deluge of tears. My mind races over all the times I've almost lost him. They were all senseless. All of them the result of Mulder thinking with his heart instead of his head. And here today, in this little nothing town in rural Wisconsin he almost lost his life for something less than the quest. He almost lost his life to a garden-variety serial killer who would have killed him for no other purpose but for the sheer fun of it.

He would have died not knowing. I would never know if there was a chance. And all because why? Some filthy bureaucrat in Washington, DC has deemed it unacceptable for us to be in love because we work together. Because some shadowy backwater conspirators would use it against us.

They already have. I guess I'm pretty dull to think it isn't obvious how we feel toward one another. We show it in so many ways with every day we work together. We just don't say it. We just don't speak it. We don't throw our two cents in on this topic because we think some how it keeps us and everyone else from knowing. How damn pathetic is that?

I sob harder and then hear the knock at the door. He's heard me. I freeze. I can't find words to answer him. I hear his voice on the other side of the door, filling with his dreaded concern.

"Scully, are you all right?"

No, I'm not all right. I've just had several epiphanies I desperately want to tell you about but can't. I won't answer him. Maybe he'll just go away and maybe everything will just go back to normal and maybe hell will freeze over.

He opens the door and comes inside my room. Invading my personal space as he has always done. The door snicks shut behind him so I can only see half of his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the bathroom.

I am afraid of what having him here now when I'm feeling like this might lead to. Mulder has a knack for finding me at my weakest moments. Always there when I most want to suffer in silence and not allowing me to. Holding me when I need it but won't admit it. But tonight, I'm scared to death of needing him. Tonight I need him too much.

I love you, Mulder. God, why can't I just tell you that? Suddenly, he's sitting next to me and I feel like someone just set off a fire alarm in my head. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asks and then drapes his good arm around me.

Oh God, Mulder don't touch me. I'm crying in earnest now. This is too much. I can't fight this. Part of me doesn't even want to. Not when he's rubbing my back like that. But the other part of me isn't going down without a fight.

"Oh Mulder...I'm fine, please go back to your room, I'll be all right, it's just that this case, the stress the... I just lost it, all right, that's all," God, Dana you can shut up now. Made your point. OK, so why isn't he leaving?

Shit.

"Hey, we're all entitled to a good cry every once in a while," he says, "it cleanses the soul."

He's still rubbing my back and as taut as I am it's starting to feel really good and I just slump against him. I hear my resolve crumbling around me. Why wouldn't he just leave when I asked him to? Duh, Dana. We're talking about Mulder here. He's in tune with one thing, whatever is on his mind. Right now, your discomfort with him finding you in this way isn't even registering on his radar.

But it feels so good, the way his hand is brushing across my back. He's trying so hard to soothe me. Odd, I'm usually the one trying to calm him down. My eyes have slipped shut and all I can think of his warm heavy hand moving in lazy circles against me. I'm almost relaxing. Almost. Uncle. I give. I do need him. I want him to soothe the pain away.

"I was hoping a hot shower would help, but..." I hope he gets the hint. Please stop talking to me. Please keep touching me. Please help me down from where I am.

"Yeah, your muscles are really tense, would you like me to give you a back rub?"

What is he completely daft? Do I want a back rub? DO I WANT A BACK RUB..?

"Actually, if you wouldn't mind, I could really use it." Why am I always so polite?

I take the towel off my head and place it on the bed. We're both staring at one another now. It's as if our brains have been sucked out of our heads because suddenly neither of us knows what to do. I see fear in Mulder's eyes. I can't imagine why.

End of Part 1 of 2

My Two Cents 2/2

By Crash

e-mail: mamymac@juno.com

Disclaimers etc. in PT. 1

I mean, it's not as though he's never given me a massage before. There have been a couple of times when Skinner decided to scream at us for something Mulder had done and he's worked the kinks out of my neck. I always thought it was sweet of him. He was the one getting the dressing down and yet he wanted to soothe me. I guess he knows how anxious I get when either of us gets into some sort of trouble with the AD. I hate even being connected with something that makes Skinner mad. He reminds me too much of my father when he's angry.

But he's scared of this for some reason. I don't know why. I'm the one sitting here scared to death that if I open my mouth my mere feelings will shatter everything we have. Feelings that only run a higher risk of coming out if he touches me. Yet my muscles are so sore and I just need him to do this. I need to feel connected with him again and then maybe I can get my bearings again and it will all go back to normal.

When did I become delusional?

I'm trying to get this situation under control. If he gives me a back rub, I don't have to talk and hopefully I'll relax. Once I relax maybe I won't feel like I've got to unburden myself to him. If only I could just relax. Suddenly, I'm as fearful as he is.

He quietly asks me to sit on the floor in front of him. Good. I don't have to look at him. This is much better. I sigh heavily. OK, Dana you can deal with this. Let Mulder work all the muscle knots out, you sit here and work all the mental knots out. Great plan!

Oh God, his hands are trembling. I feel them shake against my neck as he begins to work on me. But the warmth of them soothes me and I allow my head to dip forward. I begin moving my head in time to his ministrations in an effort to help him get all the knots loose. I try to concentrate on something else. Anything but how good it feels having him touch me like this.

I look across the room into the mirror above the rickety, chipped brown bureau. I see Mulder's form sitting on the edge of the bed and see the two things I've most been trying to avoid. His eyes. He's concentrating so hard on making me feel better. He's biting on his lower lip and staring right through my back. I lick my lips in response. I feel the heat of that stare in the center of my chest. Right on my heart.

He's not saying anything with his mouth but he's speaking volumes with his face. The worry and concern are there. The ever present guilt. But in the reflection across the room from me, I see something else that's always been there. I never wanted to give voice to it being there, but there it is in a grimy hotel mirror in freakin' Wisconsin.

Love. He loves me too. Both of us are just too damn cowardly to admit it. We've lost so much we're afraid what admitting this must cost us as well. In an instant his face is gone from the mirror. He slides down behind me so he can get at the muscles in my lower back. But it's too late. I've seen his face. My resolve is gone but so is my tongue.

I lean forward a little and I feel the cool air of the motel room rake across my skin. I hear a sharp intake of air behind me. The tattoo. He sees the tattoo. I never showed it to him. I was too ashamed. I can't believe I let things get to that point between us. It's my own fault for not telling him how I really felt. So I go to some other man for comfort.

Foolish
Stupid
Impetuous
Insane
Senseless

So I marked the moment. Isn't that what Jerse said? I wonder if he hates it. I wonder if he hates me for getting it. He says nothing and keeps up his gentle task of uncoiling my body. I suppose actions speak louder than words.

I hear him sigh again and he clears his throat. "Is that better?"

I can barely find my voice, "Much."

"Scully, do you want to talk about it, the crying I mean? You can talk to me, really, it might help."

He wants to talk. Oh God he wants words. He sounds so childlike. Like it means everything in the world to him for me to talk to him. To just let him know what's going on in my head. Just let him in. It sounds so simple. It should be so simple. He wants so badly to connect with me and I with him.

Why is this hard? Because it scares the hell out of me, that's why.

I turn to face him. I feel the fear on my face and, for once, I don't try and hide it. I let it sit there like a damn picture on the wall of my face. Look at me and know, Mulder. It's all here. I'm giving it to you, you've asked for it. Now you have it.

Then the words gush out of me like water from a faucet. I tell him everything. How scared I was I'd kill him. How scared I was Buck would kill him. How mad I was he got himself into that situation. How mad I am that he continues to get in situations like that because it scares me and I don't want to lose him because God there are so many things I haven't gotten to tell him and today was just one more reminder of that and I pause to take a breath and I look at his face and see it again.

The love. That word I keep tripping over. The word his face is telling me he so desperately wants to hear. I want to hear it from me and from him. He's just sitting there with his hands in his lap, trembling. I see that other emotion creep onto his face. Guilt rears its ugly head again.

I want to laugh but I don't. As smart as he is, Mulder can be as thick as a plank. It's just dawned on him that I actually care about him. He's never even stopped to think about it. I see it on his face. Why did he think I've stuck by him all this time? For my health?

"Scully..." he starts, his voice faltering. No Mulder. No more pain. No more waiting. You know it and I know it, this has to come out.

"I couldn't bear it if I'd killed you, because I would have killed the person I care the most about, the person I trust the most...." Oh God, I'm really going to say it, "the man I love."

I said it. I said those words. Strange. The world hasn't come to an end. Did I ever really believe it would? No, not really. I had admitted it to myself long ago. I just kept pushing the emotions down. It was wrong to love him. Wrong to want him. Why? Because someone else would disapprove. Get a grip, Dana. Sometimes you need to break the rules.

Now I've admitted it to him. I offered him my heart on a platter. It's his to do with as he pleases. I thought I'd be scared at this moment. God knows I was scared enough up until I said it. But now I've said and I'm not scared anymore. Mulder, on the other hand, doesn't look like he's fairing so well.

He's scared. It figures. He doesn't know what to do with the emotion. He's surrounded himself with self-loathing for so long he can't comprehend what it's like for someone to love him. I can. I can comprehend what it's like to love him. I've been doing it for five years.

It's exhilarating and terrifying. Mysterious and revealing. Altogether enigmatic. And that's what they say about me. I stare at his frightened features in the half-light. I said I admitted I had feelings for him a long time ago. So long ago, I don't remember when. But looking on that face, even in the half-light, I know why I love him.

It's because, despite my best efforts, he really cares about me. He may be pretty bad at showing it, but he does. He's probably bad at showing it because I'm so lousy at letting him show it. I still remember the first time I really let him in. That night at Phaster's. I let him hold me. OK, he practically had to force me but I did relent.

He held me and I relished the feel of his strong arms around me. I hated to admit it to myself, but God it felt good to let someone hold me. I'd been so scared and I fell apart. Right there in front of him, I fell apart. I was so humiliated. But he came to me, lifted my chin and wrapped me in his embrace. I wept.

From that night forward, I developed a dirty little secret. When I got scared about the cancer, I'd comfort myself by going back to that night. Not to the events with Phaster, but back to that hug. For a long time that made me feel safe and comforted. But the longer I allowed myself to go back, the more I wanted to feel his actual touch.

He touches me a lot anyway. Always ushering me through doors. Leaning into my personal space. I'll never forget the day he wiped the barbecue sauce off my chin with his finger. My only thought at that moment was that I wanted to draw that finger into my mouth, put my full lips around it...I digress. I began to crave his touches. Need them, but I pushed the need away.

Then that nonsense happened with Ed Jerse. God, I was so stupid. I still remember that fight we had in the office when it was over. I told him not everything was about him.

Oh yeah, Dana. Since when?

God, I was so frustrated. I had merely wanted him to pay more attention to me. Stop treating me like a secretary and start treating me like a partner. A friend. A lover? The dreams had started around that time. The ones I still don't want to admit I have. I'd drift off into sleep feeling his arms around me like that night at Phaster's. But then it would change. I'd feel his arms and hands roaming over my body. Touching me in all the places I wanted to be touched. The hollow of my throat. The outer rim of my ear. My lips. My belly. The small of my back.

Oh God. The small of my back. He still touched me there. Every time we walked through some door somewhere, there it was. His strong hand guiding me through another door, another case, another nightmare. In my dreams I began to imagine that hand moving lower, cupping the supple flesh of my ass. Maneuvering it so he could touch other places I so wanted to feel him.

But when daylight came. I shut all those feelings out. I refused to deal with them. Thou shalt not covet thy partner. I loathed myself for thinking of him in that way. I tried to convince myself I just needed to go out on a date, meet some other men. I just needed to get interested in someone else. Right Dana, who wants to be with someone dying of cancer. So I decided it was all right to want him. If a fantasy was all I could have why deny it to myself. Then the cancer was gone. I plunged headlong back into denial.

The truth of the matter is, he's been in denial as much as I have. Those feelings have been lying dormant just under the surface for a long time now. So now they're out in the open. You seek the truth Mulder. I've given you the truth. Whatcha gonna do now?

I watch him with anticipation. I see the love in his eyes but I wonder if he will give words to the feeling. I'm sure he's weighing the consequences as I am. Both of us worried about what this could mean. It's dangerous for certain. The Bureau wouldn't allow such a thing. Our enemies could easily turn it against us. But I've got one more truth for you Mulder, this is right and we both know it. Why fight?

Why fight indeed. We fight so much already. Always arguing over theories. His words stung me this afternoon. I wonder how many times I've done the same by poking holes in one of his beloved ideas. But it only makes us stronger. We argue until we come full circle and the crux of the problem presents itself. We've met in the middle somewhere and manage to appease his need to believe and my need to prove.

It occurs to me we're coming full circle tonight about ourselves. I'm sitting just inches from him longing to touch him. But I don't make a move. The fear is back. I suppose the amount of fear radiating off of Mulder has seeped its way into me too. Just then a clap of thunder and a flash of lightening startles me and I jump and land squarely in his arms and he pulls me onto his lap.

It's as if even God is giving us his blessing. Thank you, Father. Now I'll sin.

Bless his heart, he looks even more frightened now. I have to admit this is a little delicate for me. I mean, here he is and there is no question in my mind that I want him and he wants me, yet I'm sitting here with limp hair and a really not sexy set of pajamas. My face flushes and I'm glad for the half-light because I hope he hasn't seen that.

I've not had a whole lot of experience at this. Jack was my last lover and that seems like eons ago. So here I am sitting in the lap of a man who spends a great portion of his free time "studying" sex if you will. Not just any sex, I imagine. I begin to worry that I'm going to be too plain Jane for him. That I'm not going to live up to the experiences he's seen and had?

I don't even want to imagine what he did with Phoebe. Bitch. He doesn't mention her much and I've always wondered. But then another part of me doesn't want to know. I don't want to imagine him with anyone else because I want to only imagine him with me. I want him to only be with me...and why isn't anyone saying anything? I touch his lips with my finger and he comes alive.

He's telling me all these things all these secrets I never knew. I've decided I really hate Pheebs now. But she doesn't matter any more, because it's me he's holding close to him. It's me he's telling he loves, he wants, he needs and God love him he's nervous and he's fumbling with his hands and...

He loves me. He wants me. He needs me.

Me.

I've known it so long but I didn't believe it and now there it is. The truth. Watcha gonna do?

I take his chin, like he did mine that night at Phaster's. I draw his face to mine and we bump noses. I don't laugh, even though I'd really like too. And I kiss him. Mary Mother of God, I kissed Fox Mulder.

It's just a light touch at first. I'm afraid I won't do it right. I feel his tongue questioning at my lips and decide I must not be doing too bad a job. I open my mouth and OH GOD he's inside me. I taste his tongue. It tastes like bitter coffee and toothpaste. It's the most wonderful thing that has ever met my tongue. I search out his whole mouth because I can't get enough. I can't believe we're doing this but we are and all I want is more.

God, I want him so much. So many nights dreaming what it would be like to kiss him, hold him, touch him, make love to him. So now here we are, kissing and my whole body is awakening under the tentative touch of his lips and I'm worried he's doing this out of pity just because I said I love him and I was scared and he just wants to make me feel better.

I pull back and look at his face. His beautiful tortured face. I see the hesitation. He is worried but I also see the desire there. It isn't pity. He's just afraid I don't want this just yet. God I love him. I touch his cheek and he jumps a little, like I shocked him or something. I'm about to really shock him.

"It's all right Mulder," I say in a low voice, "I want you too. I want you NOW."

Every damn mutant, every liver eating freak, every alien, every serial killer, every shadow conspiracy we have ever chased in our five years together is worth the look on his face right now. He is speechless and I love it. He's just staring at me like a dumbstruck teenager. He's having as much trouble believing all of this as I am. The unfortunate part of this, however, is he's too awestruck to move.

OK, I guess I've got to take the offensive here. I smile up at him in an attempt to flirt. God I hope I'm not failing here. I slowly start unbuttoning my pajama top, letting it fall open as I go. AH, this is having a positive effect. His eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. I smile again. I'm glad he approves.

But we still have a problem. He's just staring at me…well at my breasts. Not that I mind his appraisal but I'd actually like for him to touch me. I reach down and take one of his warm hands in mine. First I draw it over my heart and then draw it over the place we both want it to be.

In the dark he fumbles a little as the rain rattles the windows outside. I'm rattling inside. He's lightly touching my breasts and then he's rubbing my nipples and God they ache I want his…His mouth. Oh God, his mouth. He's sucking and licking at my nipples and I can't breathe. I twine my fingers through the silky strands of his hair and finally I do breathe.

"Mulderrrr, Oh, God…"

He pulls away and I can see his glazed expression even in the low light. He tells me he loves me again and then he complements my breasts. I say you're welcome. Why am I always so polite? I move to straddle his legs, there is so much more of him I want to feel. I feel some of that now through the thin denim below me. He slants his mouth over mine again, crushing me to him. I suck at his lower lip, reveling in his taste. Reveling in him. He groans into my mouth.

"Sculleeee."

I shift a bit and I feel him thicken and lengthen beneath me. Fascinating. I never noticed this reaction before. I look him in the eyes, smile and do it again. He gasps. This is fun. Not to mention totally arousing. I'm a little worried he can tell my panties are totally drenched. But he stops me.

"Wait," he says breathless. I arch an eyebrow at him and smile again. He moves to stand up and takes me with him. He turns my back to the bed and then gently pushes on me, gesturing for me to lie down on the edge of the bed. My legs are draped over the edge of the bed and for once my feet hit the floor.

He kneels before me and tugs at my pajama bottoms. I help him take them the rest of the way off. Then he comes up next to me and helps me take the top off and Oh my God in Heaven; I'm naked in bed with Fox Mulder. He's staring at me now. I'd be embarrassed except the look is so positively erotic. He wants me. Me. And God I want him.

He kneels again and pushes my legs apart. I quiver with anticipation. I know what he wants to do. I know what I want him to do. He pauses looks down and then up again. He's come to the conclusion I don't use Clairol. But I know that's not what he's trying to ask me.

"Yes, Mulder, please, I want you to…to…" Oh Christ I can't say it. I want to be bad but I've been good for so long. It's ridiculous I know. Here I am, nude before him and I can't even tell him what I want. I feel my skin grow hot and I know I'm blushing. Mulder must know it too, because he speaks to me in a soothing voice.

"Hey, tell me Scully, I'm a bit out of practice at this, you know."  I love him so much. I smile down at him. "I want your mouth." And then he is there and every where and I think I'm going to rip apart at the seams. His tongue is everywhere. He sucks on my clit and my God, my hips start bucking of their own accord. And I'm moaning and God this is bliss. My body is humming and I don't want it to ever stop, I just want more.

His tongue snakes inside my folds and oh ecstasy. I cry out to him, "Mulder…" and I can't quite finish what I started to say and then suddenly I can. "Harder, please, I, God, please." I am so close and I want to come. My whole body is begging for it and just when I can't take anymore, he slides up an slips one and then two fingers inside me. I blindly reach for his chest and miss several times. I feel his other hand rubbing my clit and my hips are totally out of control and when did I start talking dirty?

"Harder!" I cry and then, "God, that's so good.." An orgasm tears through my body with a force I never knew possible. My back arches and I scream his name and I can't stop shaking and then he's holding me. Holding me while I drift back to Earth. I breathe again. Well, I hadn't stopped but this breathing is a little more controlled.

Mulder lets out a low groan next to me and my eyes fly open. He looks positively feral. For me. Because of me. I want to cry, but there are so many other things I want to do at the moment.  The first thing that comes to mind is getting those clothes off of him.  How is it that I'm completely naked and he's still wearing his jeans and sweatshirt?

"Mulder, be fair, how about some equal time here?" I say and we both start laughing. I glance at the jeans and wonder just how uncomfortable he is at the moment. I mean, he's got to be suffering from a serious space utilization problem there. Curse these little legs, I've got to stand on my toes to get his sweatshirt off of him. I feel his hand brushing against my nipple again.

I see Mulder is a breast man, but I've had enough fun for the time being. I swat his hand away and fix him with my eyes, "Mulder, it's my turn."

He blushes a bit but gives me his goofy grin. God I love him. At the moment, I'm happy that besotted isn't in the Scully range of facial expressions. I certainly feel that way, but I'd die of embarrassment if Mulder saw me that way, OK for him I could manage it. But only for him.

I slowly work each of the silver buttons of his button fly open. His hands rest on my shoulders and his face is a rigid mask. Yep, serious space utilization problems. Hang on, Mulder we'll get you free. I never did like button flies much, well on Mulder, now, I mean it is holding up progress after all.

A good old-fashioned zip fly would have been much better. I finally work the last button open and he actually looks relieved, God love him. I bite back a laugh. I pull the blue denim down his long, beautiful legs. I take in every taut muscle in his lean runner's legs and idly wonder if we'll ever get to go for a jog together. Well, no matter, I've got other forms of exercise to occupy myself with at the moment. I raise back up and am stunned by the bright green and gold boxers he's wearing.

Packer Backer? OK, Dana now would be a really unfortunate time to get a fit of the giggles. You've gone this long without giggling in your life, don't start now. I smell Frohike, Byers and Langly all over this. I smile at him and tell him so. He smiles sheepishly and tells me I'm right. I'll have to remember that. Fox Mulder actually told me I'm right about something. Call Ripley's Believe It Or Not.

I've got to touch him. I've been itching to do it for so long and now all that stands between my hands and...and...Why am I always so polite?

I slip my fingers inside the fly of his boxers and touch him. Oh my God he's so hard and hot. He feels so...alive. Yes, alive. The thing I most want him to be. He could have died today, but he didn't. He's warm and vibrant and alive and aroused and I'm holding him in my hand.

That's it. Those Green Bay boxers maybe cute, but they are coming off and they are coming off RIGHT NOW! I pull my hand out of his fly and he groans. Poor baby. Don't worry Mulder, I'm not through with you yet.

I grab the waistband of the green and gold fabric and down it goes. He steps out of them and I stand back to enjoy the view. God he's beautiful. I've seen Mulder naked before. But he was always sick or injured. They were never situations that exactly inspired arousal. The situation before me now has me wetter than I ever thought possible. I'm almost afraid to look at him. Almost. I look into his eyes and then down and reaffirm my earlier thought. He's beautiful and I can't wait to feel him inside me. But just before I totally fall over the brink of passion, I remember there's on little thing that I always wanted to do. I promised myself I'd do it if I ever got him in this situation.

"Turn around, Mulder," I say shyly. And he does and his ass is everything I thought it would be. It's magnificent. It's wonderful. It's beautiful. Its..."Very nice." I say. I'm always so polite. Then I finally cave in to a fit of giggles. He throws me a bemused look over his shoulder. I suppose it is strange, he can probably count the number of times he's heard me laugh on one hand, let alone giggle. I don't giggle...well at least until now. "All right, turn back," I tell him.

My breath catches when he's facing me again. He's so big. I immediately begin to worry about our size difference. I'm also unbelievably more aroused. I look up at his face and he's afraid again. Of what? Oh my God, he's actually afraid I don't think...

"Scully, say something, is it, I mean, am I what you thought I'd...Oh shit."

I can't believe the man's got the Washington Monument jutting out from his waist and he's concerned about his stature as a lover. I love him. I cross to him and take his penis <there, I said it> in my hand.

"Mulder," I whisper into the hard planes of his chest, "This is without a doubt the most spectacular cock I have ever seen. I love the way it feels," I run my hand down the length of him for effect, "you feel like hot steel covered in soft velvet." My God, who is this tramp that has taken over my brain. "I want you in me - NOW."

He leads me over to the bed and I lie down. I take his hand and pull him down next to me. We are laying nose to nose, but as I glance down I notice my toes are pointing at his shins. I really begin to worry about our height difference. It's never been an issue before, between he and I that is. It's always been an issue for me. But I can see where this might be a little awkward. I lick my lower lip. I know he would never do anything to hurt me, but I admit to being more than a little nervous here.

As if he's read my mind, Mulder asks, "Listen, Scully, would you, I mean, I don't want to crush you here, would you like it on top?"

I love this man, unequivocally. "Mulder, how did you know?" He smiles at me and my heart melts for the thousandth time tonight. He lies back on the bed and I straddle his thighs just behind his sex. I want to play a little more. I trace my finger around the tip of him until a little drop of white liquid appears and I do with that what I wanted to do with that barbecue sauce on his finger all those months ago. And for the second time tonight I see shock, wonder and delight spill all over his face. I can't believe I can make him this happy. Not when he's been so sad so long. But I am making him happy and I feel like my heart is going to burst.

"Scully stop." He gasps. I guess I'm not the only one about to burst.

His eyes slip shut and he takes several deep breaths. His breathing stills and his eyes open. He smiles at me and gives me a nod to continue. He takes my nipples between his fingers and rubs them. My eyes slip shut and I concentrate on his hands. God this feels so good.

Then I feel him slide one hand down between my legs. He touches my clit and then he rubs and I know if he keeps this up much longer...

"Not yet."

I'm gathering my resolve. I want him to be inside me, but there's a part of me that's still a little nervous. I bite my bottom lip. I shift myself up and then down OHMYGOD he feels so good. He's inside me and, OH GOD..."Oh Mulderrr...You're so hard, Oh God, you, you feel so good, you're...so deep inside, " I gasp. I had no idea it would be like this. My mind is flying in a million different directions and then he's talking to me.

He's telling me how I look and smell and what it feels like...Aha! There's a word he can't say. He wants to but he's afraid to but I want to hear him say it. Say it Mulder. Say it. "I love it Scully, I love the way your cunt feels wrapped around me." When did I learn to talk dirty?

"Lie still," I tell him. OK, here comes the hard part. This is never easy for me and it's not exactly like I've been in this situation a whole lot either. I lift up and then I slide down him again and I groan. God he feels so good. I struggle a moment more and then I find my rhythm and I ride him. I ride him. Holy Mary Mother of God I'm having sex with Fox Mulder.

He raises his hands and I twine my fingers with his mimicking the joining of our lower bodies. He's holding me up now and I increase my pace. OH GOD this feels so good. I bite my lower lip and release one of his hands. Please, Mulder figure this out. I'm beyond coherent speech now. He takes both of my hands in one of his and then lowers his free hand between my legs. I nod like an idiot. Yes, Mulder I want you to touch me there. I'm so close, I need you to...OHMYGOD.

He's rubbing my clit and I feel my muscles tensing around him and I know it's going to happen and suddenly I feel like I'm standing in blinding sunlight. Thousands of starbursts go off in my head and between my legs and I scream his name, "MULDERR..." and I hear my voice screaming lots of other things I can't even make out because my brain has completely melted.

The sensations start to ebb and I feel him still hard underneath me. I want him to come for me now. I keep riding him and then I tell him, "Mulder, please, don't hold back, let go, I want to see you let go," and I let him shift me around to the bed and I pull my knees up and spread my legs wide. And he drives into me and it feels unbelievable. I thought this was going to hurt but my God he's so deep and so hard and...

"Mulder, OHMYGODTHISISSOFUCKINGGOOD..." My God, I said the F word.

Then I hear him groan and scream, "OHFUCKSCULLY!" And he's coming and my God this is so unreal. I've never had orgasms like that and I've never felt a man have one like that with me and I'm stunned all of this is happening and then I'm overwhelmed and happy and Christ, I'm crying again. I look at him and he's crying too and I rub his back and kiss his neck. I just don't want to stop touching him and I don't want him to stop touching me.

Then I just hold him and he just holds me. Just Mulder and Scully holding each other. The bed is a wreck and we're both a wreck. We're sticky and sweaty and smelly and I don't care. I don't ever want to leave his arms. I could lie here forever perfectly content. I feel Mulder shifting around next to me and then he says he's got an idea.

I'm almost afraid to ask.

"What Mulder?"

Without warning, he scoops me up and carries me into the bathroom, placing me in that awful mint green shower stall. He cranks on the water and it's warm, wet and wonderful. He steps in next to me and grabs the shower gel and he's soaping me up and WOW. So I take the bottle from him and run my hands over him and I think, "What a great excuse to touch each other." Like we need one now. So I lathering him up and all of a sudden...holy shit! He's hard again. I suppose all those miles he's ran and laps he's swam are paying off. He's lucky I'm a runner too.

He's shampooing my hair and I idly tell him he should consider it an alternate career. He tells me he'd only want to be my hairdresser, then tells me there isn't anything he wouldn't do for me. Now there's a useful piece of information. Especially when he tells me he'd bark like a dog for me. He's just given me a really naughty idea. I love it.

"Really?" I turn around and push my backside up against his length. I wiggle against him and he gasps. I want him to do this. I want to make him come again. I bend down beneath the showerhead and brace my hands against the wall. I can't believe I'm doing this, but for Mulder, I'll do anything. He, on the other hand, is hesitant. I'm surprised. I thought he'd want this. I mean, I've never seen any of his videos, but I can guess this is one of the scenarios and I just want to make him happy. I love seeing him happy.

He asks me if I'm sure. "Mulder, please...I'm sure." He moves closer behind me and I feel him slowly push inside me. He feels so good. God, I can't get enough of him. And then I remind myself, this is for him.

"Mulder, just do it, just get off I want you to enjoy it. Do it hard and fast, I know you want to." He pumps into me but he's still trying to be so gentle. He doesn't want to hurt me.

God, he's so wonderful. He cradles my waist and then he pulls out.

"OHGODMULDER!"

And we sink to the mint green of the tub's floor. He takes me in his arms and onto his lap. I straddle his hips and then slide back down on him and OH GOD...Mulder didn't bark but he certainly did howl at the moon.

So now I'm lying in the bed we didn't mess up, at the Horror Inn, in some city I can't pronounce in Wisconsin. But I don't care. It doesn't matter where we are, as long as we're together. I sigh heavily and snuggle in closer to him. Mulder drapes his arm over my middle. Still trying to protect me. I'm trying to remember why that made me so mad before. I not mad any more and Mulder's not sad. I actually made him happy. I could not do another thing in my life and I would have achieved greatness simply by doing that. So here we are, lying together. No demons, no monsters, no consortium, no Bureau brass. Just Mulder and Scully and a new found hope.

THE END OF THE WHOLE STORY