TITLE: Ashlyn AUTHOR: Mona Lisa E-MAIL: monalisaxf@yahoo.com DISTRIBUTION: Anybody can archive this story who wants to! But please let me know about it. SPOILERS: Um...Pusher and Paper clip for sure. Maybe some other little ones? The story is set during the 3rd season. RATING: NC-17 for sex and...mostly sex. KEYWORDS: Mulder/Other, Mulder/Scully Romance (Shippers, come back!) CLASSIFICATION: SRA. SUMMARY: The course of true love never did run smooth... FEEDBACK: Absolutely! AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have to thank the greatest beta readers anyone could ever have: Ensign Ro, Spike, and Loretta J. You're the best, babies, and this story would never have been finished without your encouragement! DISCLAIMER: The X-Files is the property of FOX TV and 1013 Productions. Mulder and Scully belong to DD and GA. Anyone you don't recognize is MINE, all mine! No money is being made from the writing of this story. Please don't sue me! "Ashlyn" xx by Mona Lisa xx (monalisaxf@yahoo.com) xxXXxxXXxx The night her sister died, she had gone a little crazy. Scully was the first person to admit it. There were no sudden mood shifts, or the sort of histrionics normally associated with mental instability. But when push came to shove, she had to admit - at least to herself - that she'd gone the kind of crazy that only Dana Scully, in all her rational, cool, enigmatic glory, could. That night, sitting by her sister's empty hospital bed, she had felt truly lost, an emotion she'd experienced only once before, in the fragmented memories she had of her 'missing time.' She never told anyone about those memories, how the sketchy nature of them terrified her beyond measure. Not even Mulder knew. As far as her partner was concerned, that entire period of time was as much a blank to her as it was to him. Scully liked it that way. It wasn't mistrust that motivated her to keep pieces of her psyche hidden from Mulder. On the contrary, she trusted him on such a deep, basic level that its very intensity had frightened her during their first fragile months of partnership. The bond between them had formed so quickly, and the effort they both put into the relationship cemented it beyond measure. Surely that sort of connection brought with it a price - great concessions they would necessarily have to make. At first, Scully believed her abduction and the loss of any sort of social life were just such concessions. It would seem that her naivete knew no bounds, for the worst was yet to come. The worst was a man whispering to her at Bill Mulder's funeral. The worst was the knowledge that the one man she trusted in the world above all others might be dead, and no sacrifice she could make, no dedication to a cause, could possibly save him. The worst was Frohike's pained, sympathetic voice. "Your sister's in critical condition..." The worst was Skinner's proposition. "I may be able to negotiate a deal that would guarantee your safety..." Her sister or the truth. The truth or her sister. There were other variables, of course. Aren't there always? But when it came right down to it, she traded the potential answers to Mulder's lifelong quest, a piece of his holy grail, for the chance to see Melissa again, even if it was only to hold her hand as she slipped away. She had insisted they do it, and he had let them. And for months now, Scully hadn't been able to bring herself to forgive either one of them. From behind her, a horn honked, and she jumped, shaken from her self-indulgent reverie. The light had changed to green who-knew- how-long ago, and she quickly depressed the gas pedal, continuing her way along the route she remembered so well. Had it really been so long since she had last driven to his apartment? After she'd so miraculously been returned to her life, Mulder's home had been a regular pit stop in Scully's life. It wasn't that she came over all that often. More, it was the simple fact that she always knew she'd be welcome there. Through circumstances of her own making, she no longer felt comfortable enough to visit Mulder without calling first. That's what today's trip was all about, though. To put to rest such absurd notions. To put them to rest for *both* members of their partnership. He thought she blamed him. More than anything else, Scully cursed herself for only throwing more fuel to that particular fire. Mulder's propensity for self- recrimination was legendary, and, as his partner, no one knew exactly how deep his self-loathing could go better than she. But in her own grief, her own inner-torment, the feeling of responsibility she felt for Melissa's death, she hadn't given much thought to Mulder. It was as though the part of her that *could* give a damn had died with her sister. It was different than when they'd lost Ahab. He'd been too young, and she missed him more than words could express. He was her father. But he'd also lived a long life, given birth to four beautiful children, been one half of a truly extraordinary marriage. Melissa was also young - too damned young to die, too unfinished with this life, this world. There were too many thousands of things left for her to do - and on top of all that, her life had been taken, and the men who had taken it had meant to take Scully's life, instead. All her logic and reason and experience with death couldn't keep those simple truths from driving the surviving sister out of her mind with grief. If this were a soap opera, she was sure she would have screamed at Mulder. Some unforgivable falsehood she could *never* mean would now be ringing in her ears, making her wish more than anything she'd just kept her mouth shut. If only she hadn't kept her mouth shut. No biting words had been exchanged between them, nothing spoken in anger that could never be taken back again. Instead, she had condemned him with her silence. Condemned him every time she refused to crack even the tiniest, most strained of smiles at one of his jokes. Condemned him with her refusal to even speak her sister's name, condemned him every time she crisply answered "I'm fine" to one of his genuinely concerned queries. The damning silence she offered him had pushed them further and further from each other. When they were at work, she rarely visited him in the basement. Instead, she sulked at her own desk in the bullpen, pretending she wasn't bored and put-off by her fellow agents. That vast chasm between them widened with every word unspoken, every day she didn't pop in to play the game they'd perfected three years before. It widened until she thought there might never be a way to bridge it again. The day she realized that, the day she truly faced the fact that she was losing her partner, her lifeline, that was the first day she felt the numbness recede, the cold begin to warm. It started in her toes and moved steadily throughout her entire body. Melissa's loss hit her anew, and she sobbed in the relative safety of her apartment. Her sorrow over Mulder eased itself into her sorrow over Melissa, until the pains were one entity, splitting the open wound wider and wider until the agony was so acute, it held an almost religious perfection. Hours passed, her tears flowed free and unchecked down her cheeks. When all the anguish in her soul felt purged, she rose, moved to the bathroom and calmly cleaned her face. She did not bother to change out of her soft cotton leggings and dark navy sweater. She didn't even allow herself to think as she made her way quickly to the car and pointed it toward Mulder's apartment. No, she thought now, her car parked next to the street opposite his building. I didn't give myself time to think then, because I knew I'd chicken out. And now I'm sitting here like an idiot, trying to work up the courage to go up there and talk to him. With a sigh, Scully forcefully opened the car door and stepped into the brisk night air. It was nearly midnight, and now that her body no longer hummed with the cold comfort of repressed grief, she chilled much easier. Walking briskly toward Mulder's building, she sent up a silent prayer that she would be able to find the words that she felt so clearly. Words of apology, confessions that came straight from her heart, things she hadn't allowed herself to think, let alone say aloud. It was time. It was long past time, she thought, the elevator taking her ever closer to her ultimate goal. What, exactly, would she say to him? Maybe she wouldn't have to say anything. The giddy thought flew tantalizingly through her mind. How good it would be to let a different kind of silence speak for her. Would he understand this, as he had the other, so effortlessly? Or was it only pain that cut so deep, that was felt so clearly? She wouldn't chance it. As wonderful as the safety of silence would be, she wouldn't allow room for misunderstanding, wouldn't allow the chance for him to be hurt more. For either of them to be hurt more. The pain ended tonight, and any sorrow that came in the future would be faced together. Finally, there was nothing left but to knock. With an iron will she hadn't known she possessed, her knuckles came in sharp contact with his door, three raps positioned just to the left of the slightly crooked 4. The hall was filled with silence for a few moments. Just as Scully raised her hand to knock again, she heard a scuffling from inside his apartment. Another beat passed before his door opened, just far enough for Mulder to poke his head out. God, he looked good. His hair was unkempt and boyish, so out of place she imagined him running his fingers through it repeatedly. Her eyes traveled down the small strip of his body revealed to her, and she made note of the fact that he was naked, save for a pair of hastily thrown-on, half-buttoned jeans. Scully was immensely proud of herself for keeping her facial expression neutral. "Scully." Was it her imagination, or did he sound panicked? Shaking off the unpleasant thought, Scully tried to find something - anything - to say. All her carefully thought out words and heartfelt apologies were leaving her now when she most needed them. What was there to say to the man she thought she just might be head- over-heels-till-death-do-us-part in love with? How did she apologize for virtually ignoring him for going-on four months? "Long time no see." Where that quip had come from, she didn't know, but she couldn't take it back now, could she, she'd said it out loud, and he looked like he was wondering whether he should be afraid of her or not. "Scully?" His voice was soft, but the way he said her surname was like a caress. She hadn't heard that in so long, hadn't realized just how damned much she'd missed it. "Mulder, I..." Tears were threatening to fall again, and she angrily blinked them back. It would be so good to cry with him, to feel close enough to him to let go of her tightly held control. But she would not cry until she'd said her peace. "I just wanted to-" "Scully," he interrupted, and he *definitely* looked panicked, "this isn't the best time. It's, uh...it's late, and-" "I know it's late, I'm sorry, but..." She paused, straightening her spine. "This has gone on too long. I've let it go on too long. I'm done with it. I'm done with being this person who hurts you and herself. I don't want that, I don't want there to be so much awkwardness and pain between us, I want...I want..." "What?" So gentle. So understanding. There was nothing like his voice when he spoke to her with all the affection she felt from him. "What do you want, Scully?" Why wouldn't the words come? What was wrong with her? It was easy. All she had to do was open her mouth, and say, "You. I want you, Mulder." There could be nothing easier, and yet still, she stood here staring at him, her eyes filled with tears she would not shed, her lips parted in preparation for words she could not speak. "Mulder? What the hell is taking so long? Letterman's back on, pay the guy and bring me my sweet and sour chicken." Funny, Scully thought, her mind becoming increasingly detached from her emotions, I always thought the idea that one's heart could break inside one's chest was a convention reserved for romantic fiction. It would seem her time with Mulder was opening her up to a myriad of extreme possibilities she'd never considered before. If she leaned just slightly to the left, she could see the dim light of his living room beyond his shoulder. And there, curled up on his couch wearing what she knew to be his Knicks jersey, was a woman. A girl, in Mulder's apartment. The boys at the Bureau would laugh if they knew, she thought, unable to process anything else. Unfortunately, her deductive reasoning would not let her be, would not even give her a moment's blessed ignorance. Hastily buttoned jeans...naked from the waist up...hair that looked like someone's fingers had been run throughit again, and again, and... "I'm sorry," her numb lips spoke before she had time to form another sentence. "I'm interrupting, you're busy, I should have called first." It was cold again, everything felt cold again. Good, she thought, good, it'll be easier to bear the night air this way. "Scully, wait." His hand shot out to capture her upper arm, and the sudden move actually made her look at him. His eyes were still warm. He looked incredibly guilty, and as though he were in a considerable amount of pain. More than anything, her damnably stupid heart wanted to reach out and comfort him. Luckily, her head was in charge as the cold once again took control of her arteries, keeping even her blood from warming her skin. A doctor knows such things are impossible, yet at that very moment, Dana Katherine Scully, M.D. would have sworn before a panel of experts the sensation was rooted in medical fact. Thank God, she thought, I learned to school my features my first day cutting up cadavers. It just wouldn't do for a woman to show any sign of weakness in front of the boys in the lab. That skill would save her now, because he wouldn't know that he had just ripped her heart out, wouldn't know her entire world was crumbling in on her. "It's fine, Mulder," her lips spoke again, her arm gently but firmly wrenching from his hold, a single hand raised, palm toward him, in warning. It'll stay fine, so long as you stay back. "I'm fine," she added, before practically bolting toward the elevator. If he tried to follow her, she didn't know. The elevator went faster going down, and soon she was back in her car, pulling out onto the street in record time. She was halfway home when the ice began to crack, the coldness to recede, and she found she had no protection left. It had been stupid to come to him tonight, and unbelievably presumptuous to think he'd not only be up, but alone, willing to see her, just *waiting* for her to realize how silly she'd been, shutting him out all these months. How very unlike the woman she'd thought she was, to allow love to blind her to the practical nature of life. How very painful it was to realize she'd let the best thing in her life slip away when she hadn't been paying attention. Still, though, not a single tear fell from her eyes. xXx "Are you okay?" "Fine." From the corner of his eye, Mulder saw the expression on his old friend's face. Only a truly obtuse person would be able to overlook his obvious distress, and while Ashlyn was many things, obtuse would never be considered one of them. "Is this a Dairy Queen moment?" That almost made him laugh. Almost. "I haven't been to a Dairy Queen since my zits had zits." "And I bet there wasn't exactly one on every corner in England." "You can say that again." Wiping a tired hand over his face, Mulder leaned back into the old, worn texture of his couch. Ashlyn slid closer to him, but still kept a reasonable distance. Dairy Queen moments had been many when he'd been a senior in high school and Ashlyn a freshman. Nearly every afternoon, they met over a banana split to complain about every great injustice that had befallen them earlier in the day. There was nothing quite like ice cream with a good friend to listen to you bitch and moan. Had he and Scully ever had ice cream together? He tried to remember, and he couldn't. The closest he could get was the time they had shared a slice of apple pie in some roadside diner, both going over their reports in companionable silence. Amazing, how he could actually remember when their silences used to be companionable. It made the silences that existed between them now cut all the more deeply. "So who was that at the door?" she asked around a mouthful of chow mien. The food had arrived minutes after Scully had made her mad dash, and Ashlyn sat on the edge of the couch, pilfering bites from several different containers spread out on the coffee table. "No one," he answered absently, his mind working furiously to determine what it was he'd glimpsed in his partner's eyes before she'd spotted Ashlyn in his apartment. There hadn't been anything but contempt and anger in her eyes when she looked at him for so long, he'd almost forgotten what genuine warmth and affection looked like. It had been...nice, to see it again. Very, very nice. "No one," she repeated slowly. "Pretty spectacular no one who can turn you from poking fun at the top ten list to this...*downer* you've become." "Downer?" His voice was incredulous. "I am *not* a downer." "You're worse. You're a fuddy-duddy." A smile tugged at her mouth. "Now are you going to tell me what got you so upset, or am I going to have to rough you up a bit?" "It was my partner," he muttered. "Scully," she clarified. "Scully," he affirmed, rolling her name around on his tongue and in his mind. "You know, *Fox*," she grinned at his insolent glare, before growing serious, and mildly perturbed, "when we ran into each other last month, you really should have told me you had a thing for your partner. It would have saved me a lot of emotional upheaval." "I don't have a thing for my partner," he protested, even as his heart clenched at the sacrilegious falsehood. I don't love her, he argued internally. I live her, I breathe her, I trust her, I respect her, I'd kill for her, I'd *die* for her...love is nothing compared to what I feel for her. And what did he do to thank her for being in his life, for sticking by him through everything? He got her sister killed. He pulled her deeper into his life, into his world. He loved her as a partner, because he could never love her as anything else. Scully deserved everything, and there was nothing he could give her of himself he hadn't sacrificed to the cause a long time ago. "Bullshit, Mulder." He risked a glance at her, and found her just as pissed as her tone implied. With a sigh, he turned toward her until he was sitting Indian style on the couch, looking her straight in the eye. "Don't look at me like that, either," she added. "It doesn't work anymore." "When did it ever?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Come off it, Fox." "I thought we did that earlier, Ash," he responded crudely. Grabbing one of the throw pillows, she hit him in the side of the head with it, laughing in spite of herself. He snatched the pillow from her and held it in the air threateningly. They both weighed their options for a moment, then mutually decided a truce was for the best. Although, if given a choice between an all out pillow fight and having the conversation she was forcing them into, Mulder would have taken the pillow fight any day of the week. "I've been in love with you since I was six years old," she said quietly. "It may have taken me a decade to work up the nerve to kiss you, but I did." A wry smile crossed her face. "And then you kissed your mom goodbye and got on the plane for England." Impatiently, she shoved her mid-length black hair out of her face. "I've loved other men, but somehow, every damn time I go out on a date, I find myself comparing them to the boy I loved first." "Ash," he murmured softly, taking her hand in his. "Are you crazy?" "Oh, thanks so much!" She tried to pull away, but he held tightly to her hand. "I'm sorry." He was laughing. It had been years since he'd really laughed, and Ashlyn gave that to him. He had so many good memories connected with her. "I'm sorry," he repeated again. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just...I'm astoundingly fucked up, Ash, and I can't believe you haven't found someone to wipe all memory of me from your mind." "Did she wipe all memory of me from yours?" Mulder debated playing dumb with her. Pretending he didn't know who "she" was. But this was Ash, and he wanted so badly to tell someone who might understand. "Yes," he answered, hating that it would hurt her. "Until I saw you last month..." "Can I ask a stupid question?" Silently, he prompted her to continue. "Why aren't you with her?" Her tone wasn't bitter so much as it was genuinely pained. It obviously cost her a lot to ask. His head had started shaking before she finished her question. "It wouldn't work. There's too much...it's too much. I need her. I trust her. What if it fell apart, and I ended up losing my partner?" "The Fox Mulder I used to know wasn't afraid of anything, and he despised people who made excuses to keep from doing things that scared them. Forgive me for saying so, but those sounded suspiciously like excuses, not reasons." "So are you a psychologist now? Did I miss that development?" "You are such a smart ass, I don't know why I put up with you!" "Neither do I," he confessed quietly. "And I'll never understand this whipped puppy complex you have," she added, moving to sit on her knees, her hands creeping up to hold his face between them. "I love you," she spoke clearly. "What I need is for you to love me back. Can you do that?" He thought about Scully, the companionship, the kinship he felt with her. He thought about the times that she'd allowed him to comfort her, to allow them both to wrap their arms around each other and take solace from the darkness. He thought of Melissa, of the woman he'd genuinely *liked* in the short time he'd known her, who was dead now, because of him, because of his association with her sister. He thought of the months of silence and pain between he and Scully, the perfect agony they both lived with. It was a state of grace, as far as he was concerned, that she even tolerated his presence in the most limited quantity. Having lost a sister, he understood her anger, her hate, her pain, more than he liked. In the beginning, he'd tried to comfort her, perhaps to gain her forgiveness for the current conditions of her life. He may not have brought her into this world, but he certainly did his best to keep her here. He thought of all the things Scully didn't know about him, all the deep, dark secrets of his childhood and his life that he never wanted her to hear. As it was, she respected him. He didn't think even the blame had taken that away. He was unwilling to sacrifice what remained of their bond just because he *wanted* her to know him, all of him, and accept him in spite of it. It had nearly killed him when she cut herself off from him. It was like losing an arm, or a leg, or being suddenly cast adrift at sea without a life preserver, without hope. He'd never felt that alone, not even before she had come into his life. At least then, he hadn't known what he'd been missing. He didn't mind needing her like that. In fact, he'd been slowly coming to terms with it, even coming to depend on it. He liked needing her and knowing that maybe, just maybe, she needed him back, just a little. Melissa's death brought into focus something he'd tried to forget. One day, Scully would remember what it was like to live the way the rest of the world did, and she'd leave. The work, his search for Samantha - it was too important to place in danger of being lost because his weak heart wept for her in the night. It had already started over the past few months. They were growing apart, and no matter how desperately he wanted to hold on, he couldn't. He wouldn't do that to himself, or to her. "Most girls would take this endless silence as a bad sign." He blinked, only to find Ashlyn in the same position she'd been in before he'd gone on his magical mystery tour. "Good thing you're not most girls then, isn't it?" His hands found their way to her face, his fingers gently tracing invisible patterns on her forehead, along her cheeks. "That's not an answer, Mulder." Her voice tried to be firm, but he heard her vulnerability. Underneath the seemingly tough skin of the lovely, independent woman before him beat the heart of a scared little tomboy whose best friend had been abducted from her home one night while her idiot brother was supposed to be watching out for her... "I can't give you any promises. I don't have anything to give. But I do love you." And he did. Maybe not the way he should, but he did. If that love lacked passion, or fire, did that make it any less precious? There was something comforting and familiar about being with someone who'd known him back when he was gawky, awkward, and carrying books in front of his crotch, at school. Her gaze was searching his. He felt naked and open, hoping that he measured up to whatever it was she was looking for. Slowly, he felt one of her hands leave his face and trace a delicate path over his collarbone until her palm rested against his breast, directly over his pounding heart. "I guess that'll have to be enough, then." Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his. "For now," she added, her voice approaching mischievous. He let her wrap her arms around him, as he had for the last two weeks. He let her pull him on top of her, and let himself do nothing but feel her. He let her swallow up the guilt and the pain and the silence that followed him home from the office. He let her give him the kind of peace he hadn't felt in years, not since the hypnotic regression made him remember how worthless he really was. And he didn't think of that look in Scully's eyes until the next morning, when he woke up from a dream he didn't remember, silently crying. xXx (end 1/5) "Ashlyn" (2/5) xx by Mona Lisa xx (monalisaxf@yahoo.com) xxXXxxXXxx In the weeks that followed, Scully tried to forget that night had ever happened. And to a surprising degree, she succeeded. That first morning, she had been sorely tempted to call in sick - anything to avoid having to face Mulder and deal with whatever he might try to say or do. She didn't need his pity, and she *absolutely* didn't need to hear that he "loved her as a friend." No thank you. But she also couldn't hide indefinitely, she knew, and so she stiffened her spine and went to work, wrapped in her cloak of professionalism - and much to her surprise, it worked. Mulder kept his distance, both physically and emotionally - and if there was a long, black hair on his suit jacket from time to time, well, there was nothing she could do or say about that. It wasn't as if she had any hold on him, after all. She had no right to be jealous. She found herself retreating to Quantico that fall, offering her services in the autopsy suites and filling in for one of the regular instructors who'd taken maternity leave. Mulder didn't question this; he didn't challenge the priorities she was setting. And while a tiny part of her was hurt by his lack of concern, she firmly stamped on the emotion and told herself it was for the best. She'd been out of the mainstream for a long time, after all, and although she didn't really enjoy the work she was doing now, at least it was a contribution of sorts. After a while, she began to wonder if her time on the X-Files might be drawing to a close. But then Mulder started finding out of town cases again, and she discovered that Skinner expected her to accept them. Connersville, St. Paul, Cleveland, Seattle...the cities and the cases swam together in her mind, and despite her best intentions, she found herself falling back into the old familiar patterns: arguing with Mulder, providing him with an anchor - even giving her grudging acceptance of the validity of his point of view once in a great while. It wasn't the same, of course; it couldn't be the same, and probably never would be again. But at least things were tolerable, and Scully found herself sinking down into a dark pocket of numbness, cocooned by the cold that settled over her as she had stood in Mulder's hallway and heard another woman's voice calling to him. Missy was dead, and nothing could or would be done about that. Scully herself had lost three months out of her life, and the one person who might have understood what that meant to her, might have helped steady her, was forever out of her reach. Allentown, Waynesburg, Miller's Grove, Comity...more cities, more cases, and none of it seemed to matter in the least. Scully showed up, she investigated, she wrote reports - and those reports were solemnly reviewed by Skinner before being filed away in that dingy basement office, likely never to be seen again. The official investigation into Melissa's death was put on hold, and that briefly roused her anger - but her anger burned brightly, momentarily, in the end leaving her even more lost and empty, as if her very soul had been charred to ashes. Mulder's own reports were improving, she gradually came to realize. He still passed them to her for review before submitting them to Skinner just as he had in the old days, but where in the past there had always been problems with spelling and grammar - a consequence of his haste to get his ideas down on paper - now they were clean and nearly error-free. It was almost as if someone else was proofreading them before they got to her - and of course, someone else was, she acknowledged bitterly. Even this seemingly trivial secretarial function had been usurped. Such was Dana Scully's state of mind when they met the man who called himself Pusher. xXx "I say we don't let him take up another minute of our time." Her own words were still echoing in Scully's mind as she walked out of Fairfax Mercy Hospital that fateful night. She'd been speaking of Modell, of course - but didn't what she'd just said apply equally well to her relationship with Mulder? Or lack of relationship, to be completely accurate? This was not the first time such an idea had occurred to her, of course. If there was nothing left to save, why bother to try? She didn't have a ready answer to that question - but she'd also found herself unable to follow the thought through to its logical conclusion. Perhaps tonight would be different. Perhaps the extraordinary stress placed on her emotions by the events she and Mulder had just endured would finally be enough to kick her off dead center and motivate her to try to salvage what she could. And if all she could salvage was herself, then maybe she would just have to settle for that. She ducked under the crime scene tape and headed for her car, walking briskly. She had to get out of here; her emotions were dangerously close to the surface, and she needed to take shelter in her apartment. It was really the only safe space left to her, since Mulder's office no longer offered itself as a refuge - and she needed a safe space, if she was going to seriously consider the idea now hovering in the back of her mind. She was still fumbling for her keys when she heard footsteps behind her. His footsteps, of course; it could be no one else. "Scully?" Scully sighed and turned to face her partner. He was standing a few feet away, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, an expression of utter exhaustion on his face. "Mulder," she said tonelessly. Professional. She had to be professional. Mulder quite obviously did not intend to be, which meant it was up to her. Professionalism was the only thing that would save her tonight. "I...I just wanted to talk for a minute," he said hesitantly. "We never seem to do that anymore, and I just wanted to...talk." Scully stood quietly for a moment, looking at him, then she almost automatically shook her head. "I'm tired," she said. "We...we have plenty of time to work up our case notes. Tomorrow. I'll come by your office tomorrow afternoon, and we'll work on it. I should have the autopsy report by then." "That's not what I meant, Scully." His voice was low and tired. As tired as his expression. "I meant-" "I don't see that it's necessary to go into that," she said quickly, trying to forestall him before he said something she couldn't risk hearing in her current emotional state. "I think...I think we should just..." "You think we should just what?" he asked after a moment. "You think we should just go on the way we have been? Keep drifting a little bit farther apart, day after day, until finally - Scully, I almost killed you tonight." "I know." "Doesn't that matter to you?" he asked, a little heat finally entering his voice. Heat was good, she thought; she could respond to that safely. Anything was better than the quiet desperation he'd been displaying a moment before. "Of course it matters," she said, her voice louder and steadier than it had been. For a few agonizing seconds the memories threatened to bubble over: Mulder aiming the gun first at Modell, then at himself...and finally at her. The desperate certainty that he was going to pull the trigger, mingled with the sad realization that she didn't care, followed quickly by the knowledge that killing her would surely destroy him as well... "Why does it matter?" he asked, taking a step or two closer. "Scully, what's happened to us? I feel that I'm losing you, and I don't know why. I thought...I thought things were starting to get better, but then..." Oh, God, he was going to touch her. He hadn't touched her, other than incidental and necessary contact, since Melissa died, and Scully wasn't sure that she could take it without breaking down. She tensed and tried to back away, only to bump up against her car, and damn him, he didn't get it, he was still walking slowly towards her, a look of sad neediness on his face. "Mulder-" "Fox!" Scully felt as if her very being had been flash frozen by that single word, spoken by the voice she'd heard only once before. By its own volition, her head turned, seeking the source, and she saw the woman running towards them, her long, black hair flying behind her. An instant later, she was throwing herself into Mulder's arms. "Oh, Fox," she breathed, gulping for air and clinging to him. "I just heard about it on the news - God, it was all over CNN, and I couldn't believe it when they said your name-" She kissed him then, and Scully felt as if her own heart was being ripped from her chest. For a few seconds Mulder seemed to be frozen in shock, as if he'd been carved from stone, but then she saw his body curve over and around the interloper, his arms going around her as he returned the kiss. And Scully was trapped, literally pinned against her car, by the couple in front of her. Any attempt at escape would simply draw attention to herself, and God forbid she should actually *touch* either of them. If being touched by Mulder had been dangerous before... At last, the two broke apart. Mulder's arms were wrapped around the woman's shoulders, hers around his waist, while her face was turned up to his, their lips still only inches apart. "I was so scared," the woman whispered, reaching up to trace the outline of his lips with her thumb. "But you're okay; you're really okay. Thank God." She closed her eyes and drew his head down for another kiss. Scully had had enough. With a growl that wasn't quite anger, but which she would not allow to be pain, she spun around and shoved the key in the lock. A few seconds later, she slid into the driver's seat, heedless of Mulder calling to her, and took vindictive satisfaction as he snatched his hand back just in time to keep from getting his fingers caught as she slammed the door shut. She then started the engine and pulled away from the curb, and tried not to look in the rearview mirror. xXx This was supposed to feel better than it did, Mulder thought distantly. It was supposed to mean something. He was lying on his back in Ash's bed, his fingers lightly stroking her hair as her mouth slid slowly down over the length of his cock. She cupped his balls with one hand while the other snaked up his chest to pinch and caress his nipples. She'd brought him here after tracking him down at the hospital, based on television news reports of his involvement. Without a word, she'd begun to strip off his clothes, and he had allowed it, even while a small corner of his mind was screaming that he had to go back for Scully. He'd almost killed her tonight, he shouted at himself, and the fact that he hadn't was more a credit to her own quick thinking than to his own willpower. And this was supposed to feel better than it did. Of course, it did feel good, on a purely physical level. A blowjob was always gratifying, and Ashlyn was particularly good at it. He tried to concentrate on the feelings, on her lips and tongue, on the warm moistness of her mouth, on her fingers. He could lose himself in this; he knew he could. He'd done it often enough in the past. He closed his eyes- And that was a mistake, because immediately, he saw Scully. Scully, staring at him as he struggled not to pull the trigger...and later, outside the hospital, as she stood with her back against her car, seemingly paralyzed by his approach. There'd been something in her eyes, something Mulder hadn't wanted to look at. Something he hadn't wanted to see. He forced his own eyes open, lifting his head and looking down, making himself focus on Ashlyn. Ash was here with him. She was real, and she deserved his attention. More than that, she was making a conscious, loving effort to help him regain his emotional bearings - and she was doing it without even understanding what had upset him so. Her head was bobbing steadily now, her lips sliding up and down, up and down, up and down. Her eyes were closed, and she was humming softly as she smiled around his erection; she seemed to be completely absorbed in what she was doing. Her long, silky hair tickled his thighs, and now she'd released his testicles and was working her fingers further back between his legs, scratching lightly with her nails as she went. Mulder was breathing harshly now, through his mouth, and his hips where shifting and quivering under Ashlyn's steady assault. He struggled desperately not to start thrusting into her mouth. The sheer physical sensation was finally taking over, as it always did, driving all other thoughts from his mind. He was so close. He was so very, very close- And suddenly her mouth was gone. Mulder hazily focused his gaze upon her face to see that she was lightly holding his cock in one hand and looking up at him with an impish smile. "Do you want to come, Fox?" she asked. She bent her head again and briefly took the head of his cock between her lips, flicking her tongue across the very tip. Releasing it, she looked up at him again. "Well?" she prompted, arching an eyebrow at him and delicately running one fingernail along the underside of his penis, from the base all the way up to the tip. "Do you?" "God..." he groaned. "Yes...do it...please..." Her smile widened, and once again she turned her attention to the task at hand. Her mouth slid down over him once more, and she resumed the steady bobbing motion, caressing him with her tongue as she did so. She was also sucking in earnest now, her cheeks hollowing from the pressure, and holy Christ it felt *good*. "Yes," Mulder moaned, the word torn from his lips. "Oh, God, yes, Ash, yes! Don't stop...please don't stop..." And he was over the top, he was exploding, shooting mindlessly into her mouth, his hips jerking and spasming uncontrollably as he came and came and came, sobbing her name. All the while, she stayed with him, riding it out and continuing to suck on him. He felt as if she were draining him completely, taking everything inside of herself, all the tension and hurt and confusion, and for a few priceless seconds he almost felt as if he were floating in the love and comfort she was offering. There was nothing in the universe but him, and Ash, and the wonderful, glorious sensations she was still giving him. At last he was down, and he was lying in her bed again. Her soft, warm body was snuggled up against his, one hand gently playing with his hair while the other cupped and caressed his still semi- erect cock. He felt...he felt good. He felt relaxed. He felt content. But he still didn't feel nearly as good as he knew he ought to. The knowledge hit Mulder like a crushing blow. He'd known for a while that Ashlyn was investing more in this relationship than he was, but that had seemed okay. People's feelings often developed at different rates, or so he'd rationalized to himself. If she was a step or two ahead of him, that just meant he had to be a little more careful of her feelings. Eventually he would catch up, and things would be good. In the meantime, they could still enjoy each other's company, both in bed and out. But suddenly, everything he'd been trying to push away since leaving the hospital came rushing back, and he knew that wasn't going to happen. It wasn't going to work for him and Ashlyn. A cold chill descended on him, and once again he saw Scully's face, floating in front of him. Her expression was a twisted contortion of its usual self, and he realized that he was seeing everything he'd been looking past this last few weeks: anger, loss, fear...betrayal. And tonight, when he'd turned the gun on her, under Modell's influence, he'd seen the thing he'd feared most of all: resignation. For a few horrible seconds, Dana Scully had given up, and hadn't cared whether he pulled the trigger or not. He'd tried to go after her, even before he realized what the emotion he'd seen was, and she'd actually seemed as if she was considering letting him in - but then Ash had arrived and distracted him, and the moment had been lost. God. Was that all Ash was to him? A distraction? A diversion? "Fox? You back yet?" Ash's voice cooed in his ear, and he felt her tongue tracing a path up his neck to his ear. His cock twitched and began to harden again, despite the confused swirl of his emotions. "Fox," she breathed, "I'm *horny*." It would be so easy, he thought miserably. It would be so easy to give in and lose himself in her again. He would never be able to give her what she really wanted and deserved, but was that such a terrible thing? He *liked* Ash, after all. She was a good friend, and he enjoyed her companionship - and Christ, the way her fingers were continuing to tease and tickle his cock- Before he could second guess himself, he reached down and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away. "Ash..." His throat started to close up, and his voice trailed off. God, this was going to hurt her, but he didn't have any choice. And the worst part was that she'd *warned* him, that night in his apartment. She'd *told* him that if he had a "thing" for Scully it was unfair of him to keep it from her. And she'd been right, but he'd denied it. God help him, he'd denied Scully. He'd denied the woman who meant more to him than anyone in the world. "Fox? What's the matter?" Ash was trying to pull her wrist free from his grasp, but Mulder tightened his grip and shook his head. "Ash," he said, almost choking over the word. "Ash, I'm sorry. I can't." "What do you mean, you can't?" "I can't..." He stopped to swallow. "I can't do this. Not to you. Not anymore." "Fox." Her voice was suddenly uncertain, uneasy. "Fox, you're scaring me. You can't do *what*?" He finally forced himself to look her in the eye - and God help him, she *was* scared, a little. But mostly she was concerned - for him. She loved him, and she was worried about him, and he was about to kick her, hard and dirty. But he had to do it, because to go on as he'd been doing was worse. It wasn't fair to her. "Ash," he said, using her name as if it could somehow ward off the agony he was about to unleash. Best to do it quick and clean. He swallowed one more time and said, "Ash, I can't love you." She simply stared at him, and he went on, "Not the way you want me to...not the way you deserve. All the time we've been together...I've valued it. It's been wonderful, and I'll...I'll always treasure-" "No." She was shaking her head, trying to deny his words, her silky black hair flowing around her shoulders. "No. No, this is some kind of joke, right? You're just...you're just..." She must have read something in his face, because her own expression suddenly became dark and closed-off. "Jesus," she whispered, the incipient tears evident in her voice. "You're not. It's real. You mean it." "Ash..." He tried to reach for her; he wanted to comfort her, even while another part of his mind was telling him that that was impossible. But this was *Ash*, and she'd been there for him when he needed her. He couldn't just abandon her- "What the hell are you trying to do to me?" She pulled away from him, stumbling from the bed and dragging the comforter with her, wrapping it around her body like a sarong. Her voice was shaking with anger as she went on, "Are you absolutely fucking insane? Has any of this-" she gestured helplessly at the space between them "-meant *anything* to you?" Her voice cracked on the final word, and Mulder winced. "Of course it has," he replied, trying to calm her with his voice. He climbed slowly from the bed and took a step toward her. He didn't know what to do. He really, truly cared for her, but he knew now that it would never be what she wanted it to be - it would never be what he had hoped it could be. He had to do this, didn't he? "Stay away," she demanded, stepping back, her eyes narrowing. "Just...just stay away from me." She stared at him, tears running down her cheeks, and shook her head. "Jesus, Fox. Just...Jesus. What the fuck happened? Why are you doing this?" "I never meant to hurt you," he said, hating himself for the weakness of his response. "I...I just wanted...Ash, I thought-" "You thought what?" she asked. "You thought you could get some easy sex, and then when you got bored you'd call it quits?" She blinked, and wiped angrily at her tears before adding, "*Most* guys at least wait until they've got their clothes back on before they deliver that message, you *asshole*!" She shook her head again, and suddenly a note of pleading entered her voice. "Please, Fox, don't do this. You're just...you're just scared. I understand that. I know you've been through a lot tonight; I know you're hurt and confused. But we don't have to let it spoil things for us." Now abruptly she was walking slowly forward until she stood directly in front of him. In a whisper, she added, "We can work through this, Fox; I know we can. We both love each other, and that's what matters-" "No." His voice was flat and determined, but almost completely without inflection. She blinked at his interjection. "What do you mean, 'no'?" Her voice was quavering now, but she stood her ground. "I mean...I mean...no," Mulder replied helplessly. "I mean, we can't work it out because-" oh God, here it came "-because I don't love you." Silence descended on the room, and Mulder stood completely still, watching his lover - his *friend* - waiting for her reaction. Fifteen seconds lengthened into thirty and then forty-five - and at last, Ashlyn spoke. Two words, so quietly spoken that he had to strain to hear them. "Get out." Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, and now there was acid in her tone. "Go back to *her*, Fox, and to hell with the both of you. Go sit in the dark in your fucking apartment and jerk off while you think about her; I guess that's what it takes to make you happy. God forbid you should ever have to deal with a real woman." Had he always been this fucking transparent? But God, it was Ash. Ash, who had been one of his few true friends as a child. Ash, who had kept his secrets and told him hers. Of course she knew - no one knew him as well as Ash did. No one but Scully. And so he swallowed and nodded. His shoulders slumped, and he couldn't force himself to meet her eyes as he gathered his clothes and pulled them on. Throughout the process, from the corner of his eyes, he could see her standing there, still as a statue. Was she watching him? Was she even able to see him anymore? He didn't have the courage to look and see. In less than two minutes he was dressed again, and he headed for the door - but as he reached the threshold, he paused. He had to say something; he couldn't just walk out, and let those be the last words. But even as he started to turn, Ashlyn's voice came floating over his shoulder, cold and remote. "Get out. And don't come back." He closed the door gently behind him. xXx (end 2/5) "Ashlyn" (3/5) xx by Mona Lisa xx (monalisaxf@yahoo.com) xxXXxxXXxx "You need me for anything, Scully?" She glanced up from the paperwork she had been engrossed in. "No, Mulder," she said absently. "I don't need you." He was silent for so long that she looked up to see if something was wrong. It must have been her imagination, because he stretched and said, "Okay, then if you don't mind, I'm going to cut out of here early." "Fine." She went back to calculating their latest travel expenses. He didn't move, however, and she could feel his gaze fixated on her. She looked up again, feeling as if she had been given an incomplete script. Scully felt compelled to say something else. "I'll see you tomorrow." And to all appearances, her attention was firmly back to the task at hand. But when his back was turned, she took in his slightly slumped shoulders and defeated posture with some concern. She almost called to him as he left, but shook the impulse off quickly. He was probably just having one of those days, and he would no doubt be receiving comfort very soon. She bit her lip and resolutely threw herself back into the pile of papers on her desk - only to be disturbed again a few minutes later, when Mulder's phone rang. Her joints popped as she stood and made her way over to his desk. "Scully." "Agent Scully. Put Agent Mulder on the line." Skinner, and he sounded impatient. What had Mulder done now? "I would, sir, but he's not here. Is there something I can help you with?" A harsh sigh grated in her ear. "He turned in a report this afternoon that is completely unacceptable. It needs to be heavily revised, and I want it first thing in the morning." Mulder's tired face flashed in front of her. She had no idea what Mulder could have been working on, so it was a good guess that she wouldn't be able to do the revisions. "I don't think he's feeling well, sir..." "I sympathize, but this report needs to be in my hands by morning. Unfortunately, what I have is unusable. It looks like he spent half an hour on it." "I don't know where he is." "Track him down, Agent Scully." The line went dead in her ear. She sighed, immediately dialing Mulder's cell. When she received the automated operator telling her that the cellular customer she was trying to reach wasn't responding, she frowned. Mulder had turned off his cell phone? She tried his home number, but of course, he had just left, and no one else answered. She left a message explaining the situation and asking him to call her. Her conscience wouldn't let it go at that, though; if Mulder didn't check his messages tonight he'd be in deep shit, and she didn't want to leave it until late in the evening to tell him he had to do a rewrite. Scully told herself she was being overly cautious even as she drew on her coat and grabbed her purse. The last thing she wanted to do was face a drooping Mulder and inform him that he had to work through the night. He had obviously not been feeling his best, and it was unusual for him to have turned in a shoddy report - especially considering his immaculate work lately, with every "t" crossed and every "i" dotted. He had been moping about for the past two weeks now, ever since the conclusion of the Modell case, and she had the nearly overwhelming urge to draw him to her. Crazy impulses. It wasn't her place to ask what was wrong, but the words hovered on the tip of her tongue nevertheless. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Mulder this exhausted. She reconsidered. Well, perhaps she could. She had been lying on a hospital bed, her mind strangely blank of three months of her life, her body feeling as though it had been filled with lead and dropped unceremoniously back to earth. He had looked as bad as she felt. But his smile had warmed her heart, his eyes had healed her soul, and he had returned her necklace to her. Taking one hand from the steering wheel, she reached up to smooth over the delicate gold chain, the edges of the cross lightly digging into the soft flesh of her fingers. This small bit of jewelry now represented a different kind of faith than the one for which it had been intended. And even that was wavering. Pretty soon the necklace would represent nothing but memory of faith. In twenty minutes, she stood in front of his door. She knocked quietly, feeling slightly nauseous. She realized that the last time she was here, knocking on his door with clammy palms, she had discovered him with that dark-haired woman. Would such a scene greet her this time? Waiting a few more moments, she knocked again, more insistently. Still no answer. She sighed, debating. He was probably out for a run. But what if there was something wrong? He didn't seem himself lately. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him. It wouldn't hurt to check - and besides, she had her orders. She flipped through her keys, looking for one that hadn't been used in quite a while. She inserted it into the lock without hesitation. "Mulder?" she called, pocketing the keys. She left the door open, not letting herself consider the fact that she was deliberately leaving herself an easy escape hatch. She wouldn't be staying long; that was why she hadn't shut the door. A short perusal of the premises confirmed that he wasn't in the apartment. She took note of feminine items that she wouldn't let herself dwell on - a Cosmopolitan magazine, an olive green scrunchie. She spied his Knicks jersey crumpled up in a corner in his bedroom and felt her chest constrict as she recalled who had been wearing it the last time she had seen it. Walking to his desk, Scully grabbed a pad of Post-It Notes and scrawled a short message, letting him know she'd been there and asking him to call her when he got home. She was striding to the kitchen to stick it on his fridge when a figure appeared in the front doorway. She stopped short, barely noticing when the Post- It fluttered from her fingers. It was her. The woman she envied with every last cell in her body. Her mind kept flashing back to the way the woman had thrown herself into Mulder's arms, how warmly she had been received. "Hi," Scully said, attempting a smile. The woman stepped inside, one hand on her hip, the other holding an empty storage box. "Oh, it's you," she replied acidly. "How fucking appropriate." Scully was taken aback by the harsh words and swallowed a retort. This was Mulder's...Mulder's...girlfriend? Lover? Whatever she was, they were in his home, which meant she had to afford the woman the respect that was due to an intimate acquaintance of Mulder's on his own turf. Good manners were ingrained and not easily shaken. "I'm Dana Scully," she introduced, holding out a hand. "You must be - uh..." She floundered as she suddenly realized that she didn't know this woman's name. Maybe she hadn't wanted to know it. The woman stared at her incredulously. "You don't know my name? Oh, that's priceless. That's just great. I've practically been told what size shoe you wear, and you don't even know my fucking name." Looking at Scully with ice in her gaze, she finished, "I'm Ashlyn Moore." "It's nice to meet you, Ashlyn," Scully said. The name pierced through her like a jagged spear. She now had a name to put to the face...a name she could hear Mulder's voice uttering in ecstasy. "Whatever." Scully didn't know where the animosity was coming from, but perhaps she could guess. She was, after all, in Mulder's apartment, and he wasn't there; it probably looked as though she was intruding. Which, actually, she was. She was more a stranger here than this woman was. The thought saddened her. "Ah - sorry. I was just-" Scully began to explain. "Oh, save it," Ashlyn snapped. "I'm just here to get my things; I would appreciate it if you would keep your pity to yourself." Scully's temper sparked. This was bordering on downright abuse, and she wouldn't take that from anyone, much less from this woman. "Excuse me?" The sudden chill in her voice should have warned anyone that they were treading on dangerous ground, but Ashlyn was apparently oblivious - or heedless. "Get out of my fucking way," the dark-haired woman demanded. When Scully continued to stare at her coldly, Ashlyn's composure seemed to slip. To Scully's growing confusion and stupefaction, tears appeared in the other woman's eyes. There was obviously something going on here that she wasn't privy to, and after a moment, Scully stepped aside. Ashlyn brushed by quickly, head down, going into the living room. She began grabbing magazines from the coffee table and threw them into the empty box. In went stray barrettes, a cardigan, a pair of sunglasses. Ashlyn was haphazardly flinging things aside, apparently looking for anything that belonged to her. She didn't seem particularly concerned about what her reckless search was doing to the condition of Mulder's apartment, which wasn't exactly neat to begin with. Scully said not a word, trying to process what exactly was going on here. Was she leaving him? Oh God, was Scully a witness to another woman abandoning Mulder, breaking his heart? Could she just stand by while this happened? Mulder's agonized face as he fought with every cell in his body to keep from pulling the trigger flashed in her mind. "Don't do this," Scully blurted. Ashlyn continued with her mad search as if Scully hadn't spoken. "Whatever he's done, he didn't mean it," Scully said, almost desperate now to get Ashlyn to listen to her. "He can be trying at times, I know, but his heart is always in the right place. He's single-minded and driven, but those can be good things. He's passionate...he's the most passionate person I've ever known, and he's capable of such compassion. Show him some of that, please..." Ashlyn looked up, her eyes flashing pain and anger. "You really have a lot of nerve, you know that?" Scully was stunned speechless by the venom that saturated Ashlyn's words. "Don't *tell* me about Fox," the other woman continued, her voice trembling with rage. "I know Fox. I've known him since I was six years old. He taught me how to ride a bike. He walked me home from school everyday. He gave me my first kiss. He did those things for *me*," Ashlyn said fiercely. "He's the only man I've ever really loved. And I know him better than you could *ever* know him." If Scully had been slapped, it would have hurt far less. A dozen retorts sprang to mind, but melted away in the truth of Ashlyn's words. "You're right, of course," she at last responded, numbly. The only other thing she could have done was to start screaming, and Dana Scully would not give in to that weakness. "I know I'm right," Ashlyn said, impatiently wiping the tears from her eyes. Scully saw Ashlyn reaching for a pair of Raybans, and without thinking, she inserted, "Those are Mulder's." "Oh, *sorry*," Ashlyn wept, still enraged. She grabbed a tissue from Mulder's desk and blew her nose. "What, are you accusing me of trying to *steal*, now? It was a fucking honest mistake!" "No, I-" Scully began helplessly. How had this meeting deteriorated to this degree? She was so stunned that when Ashlyn grabbed her arm and dragged her to Mulder's bedroom, she didn't resist. "Here!" Ashlyn exclaimed. "You can watch me, make sure that I don't steal anything!" There were very few items that belonged to Ashlyn in the bedroom, and this seemed to make her even more furious. After a short time, the other woman strode over to the closet, throwing it open. "Look at this! Three months together, and I don't have a single thing in here. Not even a change of clothes. But oh, what's this?" She reached in, dragging out a small duffel bag. "Dana Scully," Ashlyn read on the ID tag. "*You* having a fucking travel bag!" Oh God. Was that what this was all about? Ashlyn thought Mulder and Scully were...having an affair? "Ashlyn, Mulder and I are work partners," Scully said firmly, her voice stronger now that she knew what she was dealing with. "That is for emergency situations, in case we need to leave for a case on short notice, or if one of us is hurt in the line of duty-" "Don't give me that sanctimonious bullshit!" Ashlyn walked right up to Scully, face to face. Ashlyn attempted to use her height advantage to intimidate Scully, but Scully had a lot of practice in deflecting that sort of tactic and stared back coolly. "I *know*," Ashlyn said, her voice breaking, her eyes wide pools of pain. Scully felt a twinge of sympathy in her chest. She knew how it was to believe the man one loved was in love with another woman. "Then you know you have nothing whatsoever to feel threatened by," she said quietly. Ashlyn said nothing, backing away, her expression now dull and listless. "*I* know, but I guess you don't," she said, laughing without mirth. She turned, leaning down to open a bedside drawer. She pulled out a box of condoms, then slammed the drawer shut. She strode quickly across the room, not looking at Scully again. At the doorway, she stopped. Scully couldn't help herself; she turned to look at the other woman's beautiful profile. "I bought these," Ashlyn said without inflection. "You'll have to get your own fucking protection." Then she was gone. Scully wandered back into the living room, staring blankly at the walls. Ashlyn had been cryptic, but not so cryptic that Scully hadn't understood her insinuations. Apparently, she believed that Mulder had feelings for Scully. She ignored the rush of sensation she felt thinking about that. Ashlyn was simply mistaken. She, like many, had fallen into the trap of mistaking the bond between partners for the bond between lovers. The difference was subtle, but extremely significant. Yet...she and Mulder hadn't been acting much like partners lately; in fact, they had been as distant emotionally as they had ever been. Certainly nothing in her behavior could have set Ashlyn off like this - she rarely called Mulder outside of work, she *never* saw him outside of the office - except, of course, when they were on a case. And Mulder...well, she had seen Mulder around Ashlyn. He couldn't have done anything to trigger such certainty in Ashlyn that his affections lay elsewhere. He had probably pulled one of his disappearing acts, and Ashlyn, unused to such behavior, had taken it as a personal affront. Yes, that was probably what had happened, Scully decided. She sighed. "Thought you'd do a little spring cleaning?" She jumped at the sound of Mulder's voice. Making a strangled sound in her throat, she looked up at him, wide-eyed. Jesus, he looked good. His hair was wind-blown and his leather jacket was slung over one shoulder. She looked at the mess of the living room and struggled for words to explain what had happened. Oh God, she had to deliver the news about Ashlyn's departure. She had to see his face when he was told that someone had left him again... "Mulder!" She managed to say his name, jumping up and smoothing her suit. She automatically reached out to touch him, and he pulled away fractionally, just before she could actually make contact. She swallowed her hurt. "Skinner needs you to rewrite the report that you turned in today; he wants it by morning." Mulder nodded, looking away from her. "Thanks. I figured that would happen. Is that why you came all the way over here?" "I, uh...wanted to make sure you got my message. Skinner-" "Yeah, he went ballistic, right? Don't worry, I've cleared my head, I'll get it done tonight. Thanks." He gestured to the room in general. "What were you doing...and with the door open? You putting on a performance, Scully?" His crooked smile tugged at her heartstrings, until she remembered what she had to tell him. "Ashlyn was here. She was - ah - upset, and started packing up some of her things-" She faltered as his expression darkened. "She wasn't thinking clearly, Mulder. I'm sure when you talk to her, you'll be able to fix it. I tried to stop her, but-" Mulder cut her off with a wave of his hand. He tossed his jacket on the couch, then ran a hand over his face wearily. "I'm surprised you're in one piece," he said dryly. Her mouth dropped open. He knew about Ashlyn's suspicions? He was being surprisingly calm about it. It suddenly dawned on her that he might have used her as an excuse to break it off with the other woman - but why had he done so? She had received no indication that the relationship wasn't progressing happily; in fact, two weeks ago they had been making out like a couple of horny teenagers right in front of her. She couldn't quite suppress the pain and anger the memory provoked. "You could have told me, Mulder," she snapped. "That you were using me as an excuse..." He looked at her in surprise. "Used you - oh," he stopped. "Oh...yeah, I guess I should have told you." He slumped onto the couch. He seemed so dejected that Scully, after a moment of hesitation, sat down beside him. This time, he let her take one of his hands into her own. "What happened, Mulder?" she asked softly, compassionately. "You two seemed very happy together." He didn't answer, staring at their entwined hands. She saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. He turned away from her, though his grip did not slacken. "It was an illusion." His voice sounded thick. Scully's heart cracked. God, he was crying, and he didn't want her to see. "No," she said firmly. "I saw you. You were happy, Mulder, and I know Ashlyn loves you. I think all you need to do is go to her, tell her you love her, what she means to you, and she would take you back, Mulder." Scully's own throat suddenly felt swollen to twice its normal size. "I know she would." "What if...she doesn't love me anymore?" he asked. "What if I've wronged her in so many ways that she can't forgive me? What if I can't ask her to stay because I'm afraid she'll get it in her head to go?" Scully did not want to be having this conversation. She didn't want to point out the obvious, that Ashlyn had already gone. Instead, she said, "What have you got to lose?" "Her friendship." His grip was so tight around her hand that she winced, but didn't pull back. She gave back as good as she got. "I don't think you could ever lose that, Mulder," Scully said with certainty. He was silent, then finally turned to face her. She could see his over-bright eyes, the side of his face illuminated by the only source of light - coming from the hallway. It had gotten dark without her noticing, and neither of them had turned on any lights. "But she's been so distant lately," he whispered. And looking into his eyes, Scully's heart stopped. Oh God, he wasn't talking about Ashlyn... He moved slowly, sitting up and getting closer. Her limbs were paralyzed, but inside her chest, her heart had recovered from its stasis and was now beating in an erratic rhythm. His hand came up to brush against her cheek, and reflexively she tried to keep it there, moving against it, sucking in a disappointed breath when he removed his tender touch. "Maybe she's scared," she finally answered, unable to take her gaze from his lips, which were slightly chapped and yet looked so soft. "Maybe he is too," Mulder said, his voice steadier now than it had been all night. "But he loves her..." Her heart slammed against her ribcage even as fear rose up, high and tight in her chest. And anger. Anger was right there with it. She pushed him away, stumbling to the door, nearly tripping in her haste. "Scully, wait!" He was right behind her, his hand touching her back. "Scully, I'm sorry." His face was haggard, drawn. His eyes were red-rimmed, their dark depths communicating guilt, repentance, pain, frustration...and another emotion that Scully would not allow herself to identify. "I need to go," she said, and to her horror, fat, salty tears were dripping from her chin. "I'm sorry about - about Ashlyn." She left quickly, not allowing herself to change her mind. She had to think, and she couldn't do that with Mulder around. She didn't notice the rain. In the car, she cried until her tear ducts were dry, then made her way home. The storm was over by the time she got out of the car. xXx (end 3/5) "Ashlyn" (4/5) xx by Mona Lisa xx (monalisaxf@yahoo.com) xXx The days had passed by in a blur. He didn't even know what day it was until the proprietor of the hot dog stand wished him a good weekend after he paid for his lunch. That's when he realized it was Friday. The weekend loomed ahead of him, long and tedious. He didn't know what he would do. It was probably safest just to stay in his apartment; that way, there would be less opportunity for him to fuck his life up any more than he already had. Scully had been surprisingly civil toward him. He wanted to tell her that that was dangerous, that it only made him love her more, but of course he didn't. And he supposed it wasn't all that surprising that she was being nice and understanding; it was Scully, after all, and she had always been a bigger person than he. At this rate, perhaps hoping that they could forget the past few months had ever happened wasn't such a far-off dream. But then he remembered Scully's sister, and his hopes faded. When he thought of Melissa, he was amazed that Scully could even speak to him. "Mulder." Was that her hand on his shoulder? He was shocked to find that it was. "What are you working on?" He looked at the open file on his desk and mumbled an answer. The truth was that he wasn't sure; he'd been too busy wallowing in self-pity and sneaking the occasional longing glance at his partner. Scully had her coat on and her briefcase in hand; was it time to leave already? He checked the time - it was five o'clock. Certainly a reasonable time to leave on a Friday, if a little earlier for Scully than usual. "You have plans tonight?" she asked. Her hand stayed on his shoulder, and he wondered if she'd forgotten she had it there. Not that he was complaining. "No," he mumbled. He'd alienated one of his two remaining friends on earth by dumping her proceeding an epiphany after she'd gotten him off, and he'd frightened off the other one by announcing his feelings for her like some lovesick fool. Given that recent history, short answers seemed safest. "Good," Scully responded cheerily. "Then you can meet me at my place for dinner." Mulder stared at her, wondering if this was really his partner or if the Alien Bounty Hunter had struck again. "Sure...uh, I'd love to, Scully," he finally managed to stammer out. "See you at seven." She waved and was out the door, leaving a very confused, but not entirely displeased, Mulder in her wake. xXx He tried to ignore the thudding of his heart as he lifted a fist and gave three sharp raps to her door. He told himself that he had nothing to fear...and conversely, nothing to be excited about. Scully was just trying to repair their friendship, and he'd better relax if he wanted to do his part. She took so long answering the door that he began to wonder if she meant to keep him out here, looking like a fool. If that had been her intent all along. The door opened slowly, revealing a flushed Scully holding a bottle of wine. He felt immediately sorry for his ungenerous thoughts. She stepped aside, motioning him in, and his brow furrowed as he took in his surroundings. There seemed to be something different, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. "Have a seat." Mulder felt awkward and out of place. Scully brushed by him, casually dressed in jeans and a thin white sweater. She looked beautiful - soft and touchable. He kept his hands to himself. He still didn't know why she had invited him over here, but he was glad. This would be a good opportunity for them to talk, for him to apologize. And perhaps after they did that, they'd be able to get their partnership back on more familiar ground. He needed that more than he needed air or sustenance. Following her into the kitchen, he murmured, "Smells good." He wanted her to think that that was the reason he had followed her, not because he just needed to be with her. "What are we having?" He forced himself to sound natural. Having opened the wine, Scully poured two glasses and handed one to him. "Steak. Baked potatoes. Asparagus. Chicken noodle soup. That okay?" She smiled when his stomach growled. Mulder laughed, feeling self-conscious. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. "I guess it'll do." He grinned in self- deprecation. "It's no-shoes night," she announced, and for the first time, he noticed her bare feet. It was a crime how turned on he was just looking at her feet. It took him a second to realize that she was pointing at his footwear, clearly telling him to adhere to 'no shoes night.' He went back to the living room, removing his shoes and socks as he hopped and stumbled along before putting them in an out of the way corner. While he was at it, he took off his jacket and hung it up in her coat closet. He was dressed in a similarly casual manner, having gone home to shower and change almost immediately after she'd left the office. Instead of jeans, however, he was wearing khakis, and instead of a sweater he was wearing a dress shirt. Mulder returned to the kitchen to wash his hands and ask if he could help with anything. She shooed him away, and finally he had no choice but to sit down at the table. Scully seemed so relaxed as she set out the food and sat down across from him that he was loath to bring up the topic of their recent problems, of their last encounter. She seemed content to pretend that nothing had happened, and he supposed he had to be satisfied with that - or find a better time to bring up all the unpleasantness that still lingered between them. The food was delicious; it didn't surprise him in the least that Scully was as adept at cooking as she was at everything else she put her mind to. She laughed at his enthusiastic praise, saying that anything would taste good if one regularly ate out of a can. As he watched her laughing, her eyes twinkling, her hair curling around her cheeks, he felt his chest grow tight and his stomach clench. God, how he loved her. This was the happy feeling he'd been missing; this was the feeling he'd been searching for. He'd had it all along and he had looked for it elsewhere. Stupid, really stupid. "Ready for dessert?" she asked, sounding so excited that he had to laugh. "Ummm..." He pretended to consider. "I'm pretty full..." He patted his stomach. "I'll have it without you, then," she huffed. "On second thought, I probably have room for a little dessert," he backpedaled. Dessert was a massive brownie sundae, replete with huge scoops of vanilla ice cream, an over-sized fudge brownie, and a mound of whipped cream, sprinkled all over with nuts. And still, Scully insisted on drizzling melted fudge on top. Mulder was entranced by this side of Scully. He had never seen her act so light-hearted, and it had been awhile since he last saw her smile this much. But then, she hadn't had a lot to smile about lately. His own smile faltered, but then she handed him a spoon and ordered him to dig in. His grin returned and magnified when he realized that she meant for them to share this one dessert. He had to act fast to get any of it - for such a small woman, Scully could really pack it away. She wasn't shy about it, either, and he found another thing to love about her. Spoons clashed and chunks of brownie flew around the plate, until the only evidence of the devastation that occurred was a few light smears of fudge and a light film of brown-speckled melted ice cream at the bottom of the bowl. Mulder ate probably half of it, which, considering his foe, was quite a feat. They retired to the living room, where Mulder started a fire in the fireplace under Scully's direction. The dancing flames offered a cheery spectacle to the two occupants on the couch. Mulder gazed at Scully, who seemed lost in thought. A quietness descended over them, and he could feel the atmosphere changing from the light ease of dinner. A thousand words were on the tip of his tongue. His mind whirled with all the things he wanted to say to her. They ended up warring with each other, and his mouth opened but no sounds came out. He was glad for this when, a moment later, she spoke instead. "This apology is several months late, but here it is, anyway: I'm sorry, Mulder." He gaped at her. "For what? Scully, you don't have anything to apologize for. God, I'm the one who's sorry. *I'm* sorry." He wanted to apologize more specifically for having entered into her life in the first place. For being the cause of so much pain and anguish. Irritation crept into her features. "Would you just let me do this, Mulder? Don't I have as much right to purge my feelings of guilt as you?" He realized how high-handed he must have sounded and closed his mouth, chastened. "I don't blame you for Melissa's death, Mulder," Scully continued, her voice steady and strong. "I don't blame you, and I'm sorry if you thought that I did; I'm sorry I didn't disabuse you. But I wasn't thinking clearly at that point. I was trying to take care of me. I needed time. She was my sister," Scully finished in a whisper. Mulder nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "I know, Scully." He didn't know what else to say, and saying something trite seemed sacrilegious, so he said nothing at all. After several moments of staring into the fire, Scully spoke again. "Maybe I was angry with you. I was hurting, and pain isn't rational. I was wrong to place any blame on you, Mulder." He opened his mouth to refute her claim, but the set of her jaw stopped him. "None of that was your fault, Mulder. I hope you know that." He nodded, because it was the response she wanted. She sighed, apparently not fooled. "If I blamed you, it would mean that I wasn't here by choice. That my life isn't something I want, that I'm forced to be here. So I had to think about that, Mulder. And you know what? No one is forcing me to be here, least of all you. The choices that I've made in my life are mine, and I don't regret a single one of them." She turned shining eyes on him, and he forgot to breathe. "Do you know how good that feels?" Mulder grabbed her hand and she let him. Long seconds passed as he considered her question. "The only thing I don't regret is you," he answered finally. "Everything else, I can think of some better, however slight, alternative. But you, Scully..." The lump was still there and he was having difficulty getting his words out. "You...there's nothing I regret." That was as close as he dared to come in revealing his true feelings and scaring her off - again. Her other hand came around and joined the one already enclosed by his, and the sensation of being held in her strong grasp was so pleasurable that for a few moments he could only concentrate on how amazing it felt. "Oh, Mulder," she said. "I should have told you that a long time ago." "Maybe," she conceded. "But I'm hardly one to scold you about keeping things to yourself." She shot him a tiny smile. "I'd like to turn over a new leaf." Mulder stared at her, delighted. "You mean it?" Scully nodded. "I'm not very good at it, but...but I'll try, Mulder. We've had a lot happen to us these past couple of months, and I realized in that time that I treasure and value our friendship-" "As do I," he interrupted quickly. She smiled and rubbed his hand. "I don't know if you remember, Mulder, but not too long ago, I went to your apartment. It was late, and I had disturbed you. We hadn't talked very much the weeks prior; I was trying to get through Missy's...passing away." "I remember," he said somberly. "I was going to your place to apologize," Scully admitted. "I knew that our distance was my fault; that I had been pushing you away. I could feel us drifting apart, and I wanted to stop that." "Oh, God," he breathed, recalling what had happened. "Mulder, I have no claim to you in that way, but it...it upset me." His body stilled at this admission. What was she saying...? "Why?" he prompted, hardly daring to breathe. A small speedboat couldn't have steered him away from this topic. "I-" A becoming flush tinted Scully's cheeks, and she stared down at their hands. "Scully?" he prodded softly. She gave a short laugh. "God, it's so tacky, falling for your partner...I denied it for the longest time, if only because Dana Scully could not be part of a cliche." Mulder moved quickly, breaking the contact between them briefly to grasp her upper arms with his hands. She gasped. "Scully, say that again." His eyes searched hers, melting in the glow of firelight. "I fell for you, Mulder," she confessed. "Against every better judgment, against my will, it happened. And I don't regret it." She leaned forward and pressed her lips softly against his. He was so stunned that he couldn't respond before it was over. "Now tell me that what you said last week means you feel the same..." His hands moved from her arms to cradle her face in his palms. "Of course I feel the same. God, Scully! This week has been torture. I thought I'd gone too far, finally made one too many demands-" He didn't want to talk anymore. His mouth descended on hers, taking it by storm. It was wet and frantic, their noses bumped, their teeth scraped against each other's, and it was wonderful. Beyond wonderful. Scully broke the kiss off, pushing against his chest, holding him at arm's length. He panicked. "Scully, what's wrong?" "There is," she gasped in between words, "the small matter...of this...woman...you're seeing." He felt his cheeks warm when he realized that he hadn't given a thought to Ashlyn this whole night, he had been so concentrated on Scully. Truth be told, he hadn't dwelled too much on Ashlyn at all since they broke up, only hoping that she would find someone who would appreciate her, and that, in time, she would be able to forgive him. "Were," he corrected. Scully inclined her head. "Were, then. What happened? Who was she?" She couldn't quite mask her hurt, and Mulder felt guilt eating away at his insides. He sighed, and Scully dropped her arm. "It's a long story." Scully crossed her arms. "I've got all night." It was clear that he would have to be more forthcoming, or risk getting kicked out on his ass. And he had no intention of sabotaging the wonderful truce and understanding they had achieved up to this point. He was afraid of damaging that by telling her about Ashlyn. But she deserved to know the truth; she had told him hers, and he knew what that had to have cost his stoic partner. He could be no less honest. "You hurt me, too, Scully," he began, and he could already see her posture softening. "I thought you blamed me for Melissa, and you would have been right. No, I know you say that you don't, but *I* blamed me. You were trying to deal with things on your own - and that's your prerogative," he added hastily. "But I guess I did interpret your desire to be alone as blame directed at me. I guess that's pretty egotistical." "You're too hard on yourself, Mulder," she murmured. "But please, don't stop. This peek into your psyche is fascinating." He smiled wryly. "Well...I'm not very good at comforting myself. I was sick of my place, that area, I just wanted to get away. One night I found myself at Politiki," he named a small bar on Capitol Hill. "And that's where I bumped into Ashlyn...again. She was - is - a legislative aide on the Hill." Scully winced at the name. "You knew her." Mulder nodded. "Well, I suppose it's a relief to know that you didn't let yourself get picked up at a bar by a random stranger." He swallowed. How to deal with this one. He remembered Kristen, remembered a different time when he had been driven into another woman's arms out of despair over Scully. But that was a confession for another day. "Ashlyn and Samantha were best friends. Often, it was like I had two little sisters. When Samantha was taken, I still had Ashlyn, and I treated her like a younger sister." Scully's brows raised. "Then," he amended. "She was like a little sister to me then." "She told me you gave her her first kiss," Scully said, as if she had just been waiting to catch him in a lie. Mulder frowned. "She did? I did go with her to some junior high school dance because she asked me to. I think I might have kissed her on the cheek afterwards. She counted that as a 'first kiss'?" "Mulder," Scully sighed, as if she couldn't quite believe how dense he was, "did it never occur to you that this girl had an enormous crush on you?" He made a face. "Ewww, Scully, she was like a sister." "Even so. She obviously did not see you as a brother. You were that clueless?" "I guess so," he sighed. "Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?" Scully waved a hand. "Please. By all means, share more of your obtuseness." Her soft smile took the sting out of her words. "Well, obviously, I hadn't seen her in years, and she brought back a lot of good memories. I don't have very many from those times, but she was one of them. And...and I needed comfort. She offered it, and I took it. I was a selfish bastard, but when I was with her, for just a few seconds I'd be able to forget. Forget what I had done to you, what I had done to our partnership. I was weak. I should have gone to you, but I was scared, I-" "Mulder, you're not weak," Scully said gently, laying a hand on his arm. "You're the strongest person I know. You deserve what comfort, what happiness you can get. I don't begrudge you that. I saw you two together; you seemed happy. I was glad for you, even though it hurt. And I'm not telling you that to make you feel guilty; I'm telling you that because I love you, and before anything else, I want you to be happy." He couldn't believe it was Scully saying these things to him. He almost hoped her apartment was bugged, so that someone somewhere had a copy of this conversation. "Scully...you know how it feels when your parents tell you that they're taking you to the dentist, then they take you to the carnival instead?" he asked. Scully looked bemused. "No." "Me either. But I imagine it's a lot like what I'm feeling right now." She laughed softly, then said slowly, "I think you're right, Mulder." She patted his arm. "All right, so what happened? Why did I run into her at your apartment last week, packing her things up? Not that part of me wasn't thrilled." He grinned, then answered, "Well, the funny thing about taking temporary refuge is that - it's temporary. Eventually, it's not enough, and you see that what you're trying to replace can't be replaced." He looked her directly in the eyes. "I wasn't being fair to Ash by treating her like that. Beyond the fact that she's a friend, I respect her as a person, and even though I knew it'd hurt her in the right now, she'd be better for it in the long run. I didn't dare hope that you might return my feelings, but what I wanted was our friendship back. Yours and mine, I mean. It's all I need to keep me going; I would be satisfied with just that." "You would, huh?" She looked at him skeptically. "Yes," he said firmly. "Well, I'll tell you something, Mulder," she said casually, leaning in closer. "I wouldn't." (end 4/5) "Ashlyn" (5/5) xx by Mona Lisa xx (monalisaxf@yahoo.com) "You wouldn't?" Was that his voice, sounding so pitifully hoarse? "No. When I know what I can have, I don't settle for anything less." Her lips were about a millimeter from his; if he moved even slightly, he'd be kissing her. Suddenly, she pulled back again. "However, I am somewhat...perturbed by your admissions tonight, Fox Mulder. I don't know that any self-respecting woman would stay with a man who had found a substitute for her." He felt his heart constrict until he saw the light in her eyes. She was teasing him. *Scully* was teasing him. *His* Scully. He never knew she had it in her...he wondered what other surprises lay in wait. "I mean, how would you feel if *I* had done that?" Mulder blanched, and his reaction must have shown on his face, because Scully shook a knowing finger. "See?" She smiled. "But I suppose I can forgive you...with a lot of persuasion." He would do anything. "You'll have to seduce me." She went on, leaning close again, so close that he could feel her breath against his cheek. "Convince me that nothing matters but the two of us. However," she sighed, "since I doubt you've come prepared, I'll help you out a little. Does that sound fair?" "More than," he answered huskily. "All right, then." Scully got up from the couch, turning her stereo on. Soft blues filled the room, and she turned back to him. "Ask me to dance, Mulder," she ordered softly. He rose to his feet, caught one of her hands in his and kissed her knuckles, then her palm, never taking his gaze from hers. "Scully, will you dance with me?" "Yes," she mumbled, a little unsteady on her feet, and he gathered her up easily. His hands went to her waist, and she responded in kind. They swayed for a few moments in the small area they were afforded, the fire crackling and dancing with them. Mulder finally noticed what had bothered him about her apartment tonight; it was a lot darker than usual. She hadn't turned on any of the overhead lights and had left the halogen off as well. The only light came from a few scattered lamps, soft and muted, and from the fire. Pretty soon, he was no longer content with the chaste distance between them and pulled her closer, cradling her head against his chest, his hands linked behind her back. He felt the buzz of his arousal run warmly through his body, a pleasant feeling settling in his groin. She snuggled against his chest, and the warm buzz built to a slightly more urgent pitch. He tipped her chin up, seeing the smoky arousal in her eyes, and didn't hesitate as he brought his lips down to hers, plundering the silkiness of her mouth with his tongue. Moaning, she began running her hands up and down his torso, inflaming him to new heights. He tried to tug her down to the couch, but she wouldn't let him. Breaking off the kiss, she said, "It's not going to be that easy, loverboy." "It can be," he rasped. She shook her head. "I don't think I'm quite convinced yet." She stood on her tiptoes and suckled his neck lightly. "I'm getting there, though..." "Me too," he groaned. "First," she said, taking his hand and leading him out of the room, "I think I want a bath." "Oooh, good idea," he said enthusiastically. "Alone," she specified, laughing when, apparently, his disappointment showed on his face. "Then why don't I wait for you out there," he replied sullenly. She led him into the bathroom, putting a bottle of scented oil in his hands. "Because you're going to bathe me," she answered. She reached down and turned on the taps. He looked at the oil as if he had been handed bottled nirvana. God? This almost makes me believe in you, he thought. Scully added something to the water - bubble bath, he guessed, as the water immediately began to foam. Instead of turning on the fluorescent overhead lights, she lit a few candles placed strategically around the small room. He could tell that these were not new additions; someone obviously enjoyed candlelit baths. When the tub had reached a desired level, she twisted the taps off, then turned to him. "Undress me." How could he have known when he woke up this morning that such delights awaited him? He would have jumped out of bed, instead of lying there until his alarm shut itself off. Mulder put down the oil, then reached for her sweater. He hesitated as he began to slide the material up - was he dreaming, and she was about to slug him? - but she obediently lifted her arms, and he tugged it off and away. He was sure he whimpered when he saw her perfect breasts, snugly encased in a white satin bra. He reached for the button on her jeans, but her hands stopped him. "Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked, staring pointedly at her chest. He'd been going for subtlety, but screw that - orders were orders. His hands eagerly reached behind her, deftly unfastening her bra and peeling it off her arms. He could only stare at what he had revealed. Her plump, pink-tipped breasts were astoundingly pretty - in fact, they were the most beautiful breasts he had ever seen, in person or in the pages of a magazine. They puckered and turned a darker pink under his scrutiny. "Oh, Scully," was all he could say. She smiled, and drew his hands to the button of her jeans. He was bolder this time and drew her panties down with her jeans. Both garments were slid off of her legs and her pretty little bare feet. He had to pause to gather some composure before he looked up again. He sucked in a breath at the sight of Dana Katherine Scully in all her naked glory. The thatch of curls between her legs was a glorious burgundy in color, and he felt his mouth go dry. Her skin looked unbelievably soft. He longed to touch her. But he felt as though he were looking at Botticelli's Venus, and as a mere mortal, he didn't have the right to handle such an exquisite work of art. She stepped into the tub, gasping a little from the heat of the water, the sound going straight to his cock. He gulped as she settled herself in, then fell to his knees next to the tub, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She held up a blue loofah, looking at him with pink cheeks and merriment in her eyes. Mulder quickly rolled up his shirtsleeves and even had the presence of mind to grab the bottle of oil from where he'd left it earlier. He took the loofah from her hand, setting it aside for the moment. Placing his fingers against the top of her head, he encouraged her to dunk her hair into the water. He reached for a bottle of shampoo and squirted some onto his hand. He lathered her hair, thrilled beyond words that she was allowing him to do this. He massaged her scalp until her head lolled in his hands, then had her dunk again and repeated the process with the conditioner. The bubbles were beginning to dissipate, and her body was slowly being revealed once again to his hungry eyes. When he was done with her hair, he grabbed the loofah from where it was bobbing gently in the water and began to wash her slowly, marveling at the fact that her skin really was as soft as it looked. He lovingly washed every part of her as she closed her eyes and made contented little sounds in her throat. He ran the loofah over her breasts, and once or twice his thumbs might have accidentally caressed her nipples. Scully opened her eyes, letting him know that she knew his tricks, but closed them again when he squeezed warm water over her shoulders. He gave especially careful attention to the area between her legs, rubbing her slowly with the loofah. Her hips rotated with his motions, and he only stopped when she moaned aloud. Mulder hid his grin when she cracked an eyelid open to glare at him. He turned her ninety degrees so that her legs hung halfway out of the tub. She looked at him with mild curiosity, but didn't say anything. Her eyes widened, however, when he lifted one foot up and teased her delicate arch with his tongue, then began nibbling on her toes. She gasped and moaned when he began sucking on them, one by one. He paid the same attention to her other foot, then picked up the bottle of oil, drizzling some onto her legs. He rubbed the oil into her skin, up and down her legs, reaching into the water to make sure her inner thighs weren't neglected. And though he was mightily tempted, not once did he touch her inviting core. Pouring more oil onto his palm, he rubbed it onto her stomach, her back. He had to lean forward to accomplish this, and her face was suddenly pressed into the crook of his neck. He shivered when he felt her small teeth nipping at him, then sucking. He would have a hickey tomorrow, and he was overjoyed. Finally, he had oiled every part of her but her breasts, and he rubbed his hands together in relish, though ostensibly it was to warm up the oil. He took the firm mounds into his hands, squeezing and caressing, marveling at how perfectly they fit into his palms. He ran eager fingers over her hardened buds and languidly drew them between his long digits. She cried out softly, her hands coming up to rest lightly on his, but not pulling him away. Her hands moved with his as he played with her beautiful breasts, and his erection strained painfully against his pants. If he didn't want to humiliate himself, he would have to stop. Reluctantly, he let go of her breasts and stood. His knees protested fiercely, and he groaned. "I think we're all done here," he announced. Scully looked at him with half-hooded eyes for a moment, and he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She seemed to get a hold of herself, and her eyes were clear once again. She straightened, wringing out her hair. Water sluiced off her body as she stood, and Mulder had to actively keep from pouncing on her. "Hand me a towel, Mulder?" she asked. He obediently handed her a nearby facecloth. She stared at his offering, then giggled. He felt euphoric; he'd made Dana Scully giggle! Taking the cloth from his fingers, she stepped out of the tub and used it to pat her upper body dry. She handed the soaked cloth back to him. "I'm afraid it's not much use now," she said, regret in her voice. Mulder tossed it into the hamper, then grabbed a bath towel. He briskly dried the rest of her, then rubbed her dripping hair as well. He had exhibited such willpower thus far that he reasoned it was time for a little reward. Without warning, he tipped his head down and laved her nipple, tonguing her gently. She gasped, clutching his shoulders. He straightened, grinning at her expression. "Sorry, couldn't resist." Without a word, she grabbed a hairbrush and his hand, then led him out of the room. On the way back to the living room, she stopped at a linen closet, and Mulder watched her remove a folded blanket and a few pillows. He followed her, enjoying her curvy ass and the way her hips swayed as she moved. Scully deposited the pillows on a chair, ordering Mulder to move the coffee table closer to the couch, which he did quickly. She spread the blanket over the carpet, then grabbed a pillow and sat down, beckoning him over with a hand. She handed him the brush and he eagerly sat down behind her, staring at the long slope of her back. Not being able to help himself, he bent down and licked the indentation of her spine from the middle of her back to her neck. She tasted so good. He could feel her shiver, then heard her voice, filled with amusement and arousal, "Couldn't resist?" Kissing the area where her neck met her shoulder, he chuckled. "You know me so well," he breathed into her ear. For some reason, this made her stiffen. "What's wrong?" he asked, anxious about having said the wrong thing. "Nothing," she replied, sounding casual, but Mulder knew better. He could feel her closing off from him, and it scared him. He began brushing her hair slowly, smoothing her locks with his free hand, leaning in close to breathe her scent. He brushed her hair to the side, revealing the nape of her neck, which he began to kiss lightly. His kisses grew more intense until she tipped her head back and moaned, her hand coming up to clutch his hair. "C'mon, Scully, you know you've got my number," he murmured. "Do I?" She gasped as his arms wrapped around her and his free hand cupped one of her breasts. "Yes. I know you do. You know how I know?" He smiled as she shook her head and tried to press closer against him. "How well we know a person isn't just restricted to memories. It's in how much of ourselves we share...and you're the only person I've ever shared all of myself with. You're the *only* one who knows me." "Mulder..." She twisted around to look at him and he was stunned to see that she had tears in her eyes. He quickly kissed them closed, tasting the salt on her lashes. "Don't cry, baby, don't cry." Their mouths met in an uncontrolled surge of emotion, their kisses fierce, wild and abandoned. Before he knew what was happening, he was lying on top of Scully, pressing her into the floor, her nipples poking deliciously at him. "Off...off," she gasped, her fingers ineffectually tugging at the buttons on his shirt. He was too busy tasting her skin to help. She did, however, get his attention when she slipped her palm along the bulge in his pants. "Scully!" She responded by wrapping her legs high around his waist, rubbing her center directly against his crotch. Scully moaned her pleasure and Mulder nearly came right then. "Wait for me," he begged. He sat up as far as he could, considering her strong legs were twined around him, and started undoing his shirt buttons with shaking fingers. "Hurry, Mulder," Scully said urgently. Her entreaty only made his fingers fumble more, and when he was down to the last fastening, he simply wrenched his shirt off, sending the button flying. He had a t-shirt on underneath, but that was easily disposed of, and he was even able to undo his pants. "Scully, let up for a second," he gasped, touching her knees lightly. "I need to get these off..." She seemed to take in his dilemma and released her hold on him. She stood and hurried from the room, calling, "I'll be right back! You just get your clothes off!" He'd never been so eager to follow an order. When she returned, he only had his boxers on. She sat back down on the blanket, pulling him to her. She gave him a rough kiss, caressing his erection through the thin material of his underwear. He whimpered in her arms, wanting her to increase the pressure, but afraid that if he made any sudden movements she would pull away completely. It was an irrational fear at this point and he knew it, but still, there it was. "Get on your knees, Mulder," she demanded, and he immediately obeyed. Her tiny fingers eased the waistband over his hips, so slowly that it was torture. She carefully guided his boxers past his most sensitive area, until his cock finally sprang free into her waiting hand. She stared at him for a moment and he could see her swallow. He nearly came undone when she leaned in, kissing him and giving him a little lick. "You're just as beautiful as I thought you'd be," she murmured. Deftly, she opened up the box she'd brought back with her from wherever she'd gone - presumably her bedroom - and Mulder saw that it was a box of condoms. Scully had a box of condoms? He was the last person to question this, so he bit his tongue and instead removed his boxers as she fiddled with a foil package. Mulder's disquiet must have shown on his face, because she looked up from her task and grinned when she saw his expression. He was surprised further when she actually winked at him. "I was given advice about being prepared," she said, her eyes twinkling mysteriously. Mulder had no idea what she was talking about, but it didn't matter because she started rolling the condom on him and he lost the ability to think. When it was fully secure, she grabbed him in her hand and he groaned, appreciating the latex for desensitizing him somewhat, or that surely would have been the end. Even the sight of her small hand on his hardened cock was too much stimulation, and he closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, she was pulling him down on top of her. He saw that she had settled a pillow under her head, her hair spilling across it. It looked like the fire had somehow leapt from the fireplace onto the pillow. Her eyes were wide and luminous, and never in his life had he seen a more beautiful sight than her. He lowered his head and captured her mouth in a kiss that was long, slow, deep and wet, the sensations going straight to his groin. He had made no conscious decision to enter her, but his body was working completely under instinct, and he swallowed her gasps as he eased his way inside. Nothing had ever felt this good. Mulder broke off the kiss to mutter, "God, you feel incredible, Scully...never felt this way before, never felt-" And to his surprise tears were coursing down his cheeks. "I know, Mulder. Me either," she said breathlessly, lifting her hips up to meet his thrusts. He treated her body reverently, like a fine instrument, savoring each sensation. He was inside Scully...he was making love to Scully...the knowledge was almost enough to bring him over the edge. But he forced himself to maintain control, wanting this to last as long as possible. "Scully, I love you," he said. To his surprise and horror, her face crumpled. He thought it was safe to say this time; he thought she would be ready to hear it. He was about to apologize when she sniffed, "You don't blame me for giving the DAT tape away?" It took his fuzzy brain a few moments to comprehend what she was saying. "What? Scully, no - of course I don't. You made the right decision. I'm glad you made it." And he was. In that way, he had been able to defer the responsibility to her. He had already given up so many chances to learn the truth, to do right by Samantha, that he was glad when this decision was taken from him. She was right to have chosen to be with her sister. Selfish bastard that he was, he didn't feel as guilty about giving up the truth once again, giving up Samantha once again, if the decision was taken from his hands. "I've been thinking...that I might have made the wrong choice...that I was selfish. I made you give up...give up-" Scully began to weep in earnest, and couldn't finish her sentence. Mulder dropped his forehead to hers. "You didn't make me give up anything, Scully. We will find our answers. You and me together. And we won't compromise the people we are in the process. Okay? Scully?" She nodded, sniffling, then wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I love you too, Mulder," she said. He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but suddenly they were kissing and kissing and kissing and he was pounding into her, feeling his balls tighten unbearably but still not letting go. Scully's eyes were closed and he wanted them open, wanted them focused all on him. "Open your eyes." Sweat was trickling down the sides of his face and he could see a fine sheen of perspiration over her face as well. Her eyes remained closed. "Open your eyes, please, Scully." Slowly, she did as he asked. "I want you to look in my eyes when you come. Can you do that for me?" He didn't know why it was so imperative that she do so, but it was. She didn't answer, but kept her eyes open, so he took that as an affirmative. Mulder sensed that they were both ready to bring this encounter to its gratifying conclusion, so he moved his hips in a rapid- fire rhythm over hers, hearing her quiet gasps issue from her parted mouth. He barely blinked, and not once did her gaze waver from his. He changed his angle slightly, trying to find that spot in her that would bring her maximum pleasure. He supposed he found it when a few hard strokes later, her muscles clenched tightly around him and her pupils dilated. He thought she probably couldn't focus on anything at the moment, but she kept her eyes open just as he had asked. "You're so beautiful, Scully," he murmured, even as his own convulsions began and pleasure shot through his limbs with breathtaking force. When he was able to move again, he turned them both onto their sides, gathering her up in his arms gently. Reluctantly, he withdrew his rapidly softening erection, not wanting the condom to slip off while he was still inside her. Caressing her waist, he asked, "What made you do this tonight?" He was really asking why she'd reacted the way she had a week ago at his apartment, and she seemed to comprehend his true question. "I was scared, Mulder," she confessed. "It was what I wanted, but it was too much at once, and I..." she trailed off. Mulder squeezed her in understanding. "Thank you. Now...am I forgiven?" Scully rolled her eyes to the side, apparently considering, and he actually got worried. She was completely unpredictable. Maybe in a few years, he'd be more adept at guessing her motives. He relaxed when she gifted him with a radiant smile. "Did you really doubt?" He sighed happily and considered wryly that Scully *did* know him; knew him well enough to know that even her own seduction had to be a team effort. They stared at each other, lightly stroking whatever of the other's skin they could reach, and Mulder wondered if she was as amazed that they were here together as he was. He doubted it. Mulder didn't know what the future would bring, but he knew that he hadn't lied to Scully. They *would* find the answers they were seeking, and they would find them together. xXx END Anyone still out there? If you are...feedback would be nifty! At monalisaxf@yahoo.com please! Come on, didn't you feel bad for poor Ashlyn by the end?