*TITLE - "Barriers" (1/2)
*AUTHOR - Heather D. Behl	
*E-MAIL - hdbehl@canada.com
*RATING - PG (language)
*CATEGORY - S, some A, MSR
 *SPOILERS - "3" and the other abduction episodes, the cancer 
episodes, "Bad Blood", "The Red & The Black", "The End", 
the movie, "The Beginning", "Two Fathers" and "One Son"...
maybe other little references here and there, but no serious 
spoilers.
*KEYWORDS - MSR, Diana Fowley
*SUMMARY - The trust between the two agents is tested when
Scully confronts Mulder and learns that he is hiding some secrets 
from her?but Mulder surprises Scully by asking about one of *her* 
deepest secrets.
*FEEDBACK - Please! <hdbehl@canada.com> Criticism is welcome, 
as long as it doesn't start with "your story was so stupid" 
or "you are a complete moron" or the like. 
*DISCLAIMER - They aren't mine.  I'm just a poor student; 
please don't sue me!



---------------------BARRIERS (1/2)---------------------

Things have changed so much between us.

Back before my abduction, we had every reason to be happy.  He 
always managed to catch me off guard, teasing or flirting when I 
least expected it.  Looking back, I suppose I flirted, too, 
shamelessly. From whispered "sucker!" to leaning in just a 
little too close as he was showing me a file, I did my fair 
share of teasing.  Despite the dark and dismal work we did,
it kept the atmosphere light and cheerful.

Back then, he always seemed to take every opportunity to touch me:  
through a doorway, into a car, steering me around obstacles.  I 
took it for granted, I suppose.  I assumed that it was something he
would do for anyone.

But gradually, with time, those little touches and flirtations faded 
as the X-Files and the truth we searched relentlessly for pulled us 
deeper and deeper into conspiracies and pain.  His hand would still 
linger on the small of my back, but less frequently than before.  The
teasing, too, diminished, until it was something rare and precious.  
I know that I personally went long periods of time without cracking
so much as a smile.

The cancer, in its own way, brought us temporarily closer 
together, but then came incident on the bridge with
Cassandra Spender.

A wall was built between us.

My fault, I suppose.  I was the one who told him that I couldn't 
follow him anymore, not without his determination and 
motivation.  It was the truth.  And it hurt him.

Well, isn't that what you always search for, Mulder?  The truth?

Then came Her.

Diana.

Mulder simply did not want to tell me about her, about his past
with her.  And as much as I respected his personal life (of which
he had very little), I could not help but be hurt that he trusted
this woman as much as he trusted me.

The invisible wall between us thickened.

Then the end of the X-Files; his -- *our* -- life's work gone, 
literally in a puff of smoke...and he refused my comforting 
embrace.

This invisible wall between us was beginning to make the Great 
Wall of China look like a little picket fence.

And then, suddenly, we were removed from the X-Files and 
reassigned, and the wall seemed to drop.  With the pressure of 
the X-Files removed and a greater sense of security, we opened 
ourselves up again, cracking the hard shells surrounding us and 
peeling ourselves into the light. It reminded me of that first 
year together again, the care-free teasing and joking.  We 
rarely spoke of the rougher times of the previous years.  No one 
mentioned Fowley...for awhile.

In fact, we opened ourselves up to each other so much that I 
began to realize how he felt about me.

The same way I felt about him.

A confession.  An almost-kiss.  An abduction and a heroic 
rescue.  I began to realize that this was no longer just a 
partnership; the trust between us was thicker than even blood.

But the conspiracies were still there, and there was still
work to be done on the X-Files.  Despite our ever-growing
trust and devotion to one another, one person stood between 
us, that horrid metaphorical wall.  Diana Fowley.

* * *

It started when Mulder and I went back to his place one Friday 
night to go over some case files.  I was holding one file open in 
front of me, and I was reading a suspicious-sounding section of it 
aloud to Mulder as he wrestled with his keys in the lock.  He at 
last managed to wrestle the door open, and stepped inside.  I
took one step to follow him when I heard his voice.

"Diana?"

My head snapped up.  Mulder had stopped in the doorway, his 
mouth open.  I followed his gaze to the couch, upon which
was perched an impeccably dressed Diana Fowley.  She did not
turn to acknowledge me.

"What are you- how did you get in here?"  Mulder looked shocked.

"Fox," that overly-saccharine voice said, "I need to talk to 
you."

My heart started beating too quickly.  I looked up at Mulder, 
waiting for his reaction.  His face, as usual, was unreadable.

He practically tripped over himself in his haste to reach her 
side.

Yes, it is possible that I was tired and jealous and so the
image is magnified in my mind.  In all likelihood, he walked
over to her in the way he might walk over to AD Skinner or
another agent.  Either way, I would have preferred that he
walk away from Fowley rather than towards her. 

I cleared my throat, stepping into the room.  "Mulder?" I
asked, waving the file.

Mulder turned to look at me. "Scully, can it wait until 
tomorrow?"

I felt as if he had pulled out his gun and shot me, but I managed 
to compose myself and not do anything immature.  "Oh, sure," I said 
with what I hoped was absolute sincerity.  I closed the door as
gently as I could.

I confess: I tried to listen at the door.  I know I shouldn't have,
but I told myself that Mulder would have done the same thing had 
the situations been reversed.  After finding out from the Lone 
Gunmen that Fowley had disappeared from the FBI records for a 
long period of time, I trusted her even less than I had before.  
No matter what Mulder said, someone was using his weakness to try 
and control him.  Whether some higher power was involved or it was 
just Fowley, I wasn't going to lose my partner.  Not without a fight.

I strained my ear for a few minutes, but I all could here were 
muffled voices.  Then there was a long, dreadful silence that made my 
imagination run crazy.  What were they doing in there?

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.  Trying to control my 
breathing, I walked as calmly as I could to the elevator.  

* * *

Having your partner ignore you because he is locked in his 
apartment with his ex-lover, on a day at the end of a hellish
work-week, is not good for the sanity.  By later that evening, 
I was on the brink of going crazy, my imagination conjuring 
outlandish scenarios of what Fowley had done to -- or with 
-- Mulder.  I had to get out.  I grabbed a granola bar and 
changed into jeans and a cream sweater.  I pulled my windbreaker 
overtop, and left my apartment, walking.

The fresh air helped a bit, although only slightly.  I'll
walk farther, I told myself.  It will distract me.

I was still walking awhile later when the sky opened up and it
began to pour.  And I kept walking while my hair soaked to the
roots and goosebumps rose on every bit of my skin.  Even when
my teeth began to chatter and my fingers went numb, I kept
walking.

And somehow, I ended up in front of the door of Fox Mulder's
apartment.  I couldn't even feel the doorbell beneath my
fingertip, my fingers were so blue, but I somehow managed 
to press it.

There was no response at first.

"Mulder," I said through chattering teeth, throat a bit hoarse.  
"Mulder, it's me, open up."

If you aren't coming because *she's* still there, I thought, 
I'm going to kill you.  Or her.  Or myself.

The door swung open.  Mulder's eyes were wide with shock.

"Scully!" he exclaimed.  "You're soaked!"  He ushered me inside.

I was glad to see that the apartment was void of all other life forms,
except for his goldfish.  And some blue fuzzy stuff on a plate 
on the chair.  No sign of Agent Fowley.

Maybe there was hope.

I mentally chided myself for being so melodramatic.

Mulder stripped off my windbreaker.  My sweater, miraculously,
had managed to remain dry, but my jeans were soaked and my
hair was dripping.

"I'll be right back," he said.  He returned with some sweatpants
that looked as if they had shrunk in the wash.  "These might
fit."

He led me to the bathroom, where I changed.  The soft cotton
felt tingly and warm against my cold legs, although the pants
were about seven sizes too large for me.  Geez, I thought,
you could fit another person inside these with me.

I refused to continue the thought any further.  Instead, I sat 
down on the couch.

"Scully, how did you get here?" asked Mulder in amazement, 
sitting beside me.

"Uh...I guess I walked," I replied a bit sheepishly, looking him 
squarely in the eyes.

He looked at me with an incomprehensible gaze.  "That is a *long* 
way to walk, Scully."

Say it now, Dana, I told myself.  Say it now before you
chicken out.

"I - I have two very important questions to ask you, Mulder,"
I said softly.

His look faded back to concern.  "Okay, go ahead..."

"Number one," I said, gathering my strength.  "Who....who is
Diana Fowley, Mulder?"  I didn't need to elaborate.  He knew
what I meant.  *How did she fit into your life, Mulder?*

He looked away for a second.  "I had a feeling you'd ask
that sooner or later."

"I need to know, Mulder," I said urgently.

He reached over and brushed my hand with his, slowly and
tenderly, as if to say, "brace yourself".  

Then he stood and began rummaging through a drawer, back to 
me.  At last, he found what he was looking for, and handed it
to me, tears in his eyes.

I accepted the object.  A small, velvet box.  Curiously, I
opened it.

Inside lay a gold band.  Oh, no, I thought to myself.
Please, no...

I pulled the ring out, and, in the dim light, struggled
to read the inscription inside.  It read simply:

FWM + DMF

The ring dropped from my fingers.

I wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but I couldn't find a 
voice to speak.  Anger and fear and sadness twisted in my
heart.

"You're married," I finally choked out.  "To Diana."  
Silently, I dropped my head, not wanting him to see the 
anguish in my eyes.  I had to stay strong...

Mulder knelt down in front of me, wrapping his hands around
my wrists.  "Was.  Was married."  His voice was choking.

"Scully, listen," he whispered urgently.  "It didn't work out.
I guess I never really loved her.  She's nothing more than
a friend to me now, Scully, honest."

Tell me I'm so much more than that, I pleaded silently.
Tell me she's nothing compared to me.  That will take the
sting away.

He didn't say anything else.  His hands remained around my
wrists, trembling slightly.

I regained my composure, and lifted my head from my hands.
He was still kneeling in front of me, his head bowed.

I yanked my wrists from his hands.  "You didn't tell me," I
said, marvelling at the steadiness of my voice.  I gave him
my best cold stare.

"We both have secrets, Scully."  His eyes lifted to meet
mine.  There were tears there.

"We do?"  This was a bit of a surprise.  I suspected there
were things he hadn't told me about his life, but I didn't
know that he had any *secrets*.  And I certainly didn't
think I had any -- except maybe how I really felt about him.
But even that wasn't really a secret anymore -- was it?

His eyes narrowed.  "Oh, come on, Scully, you know we do!"

I must have had a look of confusion written on my face,
because he sighed in exasperation.

"Ed Jerse, for example?" he hinted, face twisting with an
emotion I can only explain as jealousy and hurt.

I raised an eyebrow.  "There's no secret there, Mulder.  There
was nothing.  Not what you think, anyway."

His face contorted with something akin to guilt.

"Oh, so you have more secrets, do you?" I said, my stomach
doing a triple flip and tying itself into a knot.  Or maybe it
was a lynch knot.  I hoped so; something to hang myself
with.  C'mon, Dana, I told myself, get under control.

Mulder slowly sank into the couch beside me, eyes squeezed
shut.

"Kristin Kilar," he said quietly.

"I- I don't understand.  That name sounds familiar, but..."

"Early November, 1994."  His hands came up to bury his forehead.

And then I remembered.  The case file.  I had read it.  A
vampire case he went on during my abduction.

I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me.  "You didn't."

He didn't answer, and I knew that it was true.

"You...you...oh, God..."  I closed my eyes to steady myself.  "I
always tried to picture what you did during my abduction,
but somehow I didn't think you'd do anything like this."
I tried to quell my rising anger.

"I...I was trying to fill the gap in me that you had left
behind," said Mulder softly.

"So you slept with her."  I wasn't buying it.

"I was trying so hard to forget you," he murmured.  "I was
going insane.  And she was...there, and I needed to forget
...just needed a moment of peace."

"Well, vampires are supposed to be extremely good seducers,"
I said dryly.  I remembered the strange "vampire" sheriff in 
Texas, and shuddered.  I still didn't know what to think about 
that.

"Scully," he said softly, "I...I'm..."

I steeled myself, not giving him a chance to apologize.  
"What else?"

"I..."

"Phoebe?" I said plaintively

He grumbled.  "I'd rather forget her.  But no, not what you 
think."

I ignored him.  My brain whirled in confusion.

"I have to go," I said flatly.  I stood up and strode for the
door.  My hand had just grasped the doorknob when I heard
Mulder's voice behind me.

"Scully...please..."  He looked pathetic.  In both senses
of the word.

I shook my head and turned the doorknob.  I had to get away,
had to think.  I didn't look back as I left, letting the door
slam behind me.

---------
TO BE CONTINUED...

<hdbehl@canada.com>

*TITLE - "Barriers" (2/2)
*AUTHOR - Heather D. Behl	
*E-MAIL - hdbehl@canada.com
*RATING - PG (language)

See PART 1 for others...

---------------------BARRIERS (2/2)---------------------

I had been running for about four blocks when I realized I had  
forgotten my clothes, and I still had Mulder's pants on.  I stopped, 
moaning in frustration and throwing my hands into the air, gasping 
for breath.

"You idiot!" I grumbled at the street lights, pacing slightly 
as I debated what to do.  It was still raining, and my hair 
was beginning to drip again.

I saw a coffeeshop open just down the road; I supposed I could sit 
there and wait out the storm, or call a taxi...

I heard heavy footsteps behind me.  I whirled around, hand moving 
unconsciously to where my gun would be if I had brought it with me.
A figure was running towards me, his silhouette surrounded by the 
fiery glow of street light against rain.

"Scully!" I heard him yell over the pattering rain.  I held my 
breath as Mulder soon came to a stop about a metre in front of 
me, extending my clothes in his hand like an offering.

"You...you forgot your jacket," he muttered, sounding slightly 
embarrassed.  "I figured you might need it."

I stared at him;  he was taking large, ragged gasps of air, 
and rain was dripping down his nose and forehead and getting 
caught in his eyelashes.  Damn you, Mulder, for being so 
irresistible.  Try as I might, I couldn't stay angry with him.

I reached out and accepted the windbreaker.  "Thanks," I said
quietly.

We stood awkwardly for a moment, only half conscious of the
rain streaming down our bodies. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Want a coffee?" he asked, pointing to the coffeeshop I had seen
earlier.  "I think...I think we need to talk."

I almost couldn't believe my ears.  Mulder telling me that we
needed to exercise our communication skills.  Amazing.  I felt
the urge to make a sarcastic comment, but the vulnerable, boyish 
look on his face stopped me.

I nodded.  "Okay."

We walked under a blanket of silence.  I focussed on the feeling
of the rain on my skin, and on each footstep I was taking.  
Think about anything, just not *him*.  *He* was linked to
too many emotions at the moment, most of which I would rather
not deal with.

We reached the coffeeshop, and as I reached for the door, Mulder
put his hand on the small of my back to guide me through.  I 
looked up at him at the sensation, openmouthed.  It had been awhile 
since he had done that. He held my gaze, and, smiling a little, 
gently nudged me to go through the door. I forced my eyes away from 
him and complied, more confused than before.

We ordered our drinks and then sat down at a two-person table. 
I folded my hands on the table-top.  He was staring at me intensely 
with what only I could recognize as a look of pity; I tried to match 
his gaze with a fiery one of my own, but in the end I had to look 
away.

"You didn't ask the second question," he said quietly.

I looked up at him, eyebrows raised.  "Well, after the response 
to the first one, I wasn't quite ready to try another one."

He winced.  "Oh."

That killed conversation for a moment.

Our coffees were set in front of us, and I wrapped my fingers
around my mug to warm my fingers, wondering why the hell
I was drinking coffee at midnight.  Well, I won't be getting
any sleep tonight, anyway, I thought to myself.

"Scully," Mulder said in the same gentle tone as before, "do I
even have to tell you that I don't care about any of those
women anymore?  They mean nothing to me."

"Then what was that thing this afternoon..."

"...with Diana in my apartment," he finished, and dropped his 
head.  "She was trying to convince of something, trying to 
convince me that she knew more about the Project than I did, that
she could share what she knew if I would form a partnership
with her.  I'm..."  His voice lowered.  "I'm beginning to 
think that maybe you're right, maybe she does work for someone 
else."  He sighed.  "She tried to use what we used to have together,
tried to seduce me the way she once could, but...there's nothing left 
between Diana and I, Scully.  I thought there was...for a little while
...but now I know for sure."

My grip on the mug tightened.  I thought of how he had 
saved me that time at Antarctica, at enormous peril to
himself.  Of how he had confessed before that I kept him honest, 
made him whole.  Even with the losses he had suffered -- his 
father, Samantha -- *I* was what made him whole.

What does it matter, my brain began to rationalize, if he has
an ex-wife?  That was *before* he knew you...  The thing that
stung was that I had selfishly believed that I had been the
only person who had ever completed him.  I found it hard to
believe that there could ever have been anyone else.

Damnit, I thought.  I'm angry with Mulder because of myself.

"Scully?" he asked, and reached out a hand to gently lift my
jaw until I was eye-level with him.  I guess that my self-
criticism had shown more clearly on my face than I had
wanted it to, because he was staring at me with eyes
full of pity.

His gaze was too overbearing and embarrassing.  I closed my 
eyes.  I felt his hand gently brush my jaw and then drop 
away.

I opened my eyes and looked at him sadly.  "Mulder, what's
happened to us?" I asked softly.

He seemed to sense that this was Question Number Two. 
"What do you mean?" he prompted.

"I - I mean in the beginning, our first year working together,
we were so...*happy*.  Do you remember?"

He smiled.  "Yeah, I remember teasing you ruthlessly.  That was
happiness for you?"

"Come on, admit it Mulder, we had *fun*.  We enjoyed what we
were doing.  And then somewhere along the line, things got
serious, and we weren't happy anymore."

"Your abduction," Mulder murmured, the smile fading rapidly
from his face.  "Your cancer.  Emily."  I could see guilt 
twisting his features.

My heart ached slightly.  "Yes, I know.  But...when we were
reassigned, we were happier for a moment... Then we were 
dying to get back to the X-Files.  And now that we have 
them back, look at us!" I sighed.  "What's going on here, 
Mulder?"

He closed his eyes and didn't say anything for a moment.  
Finally, he said softly, "Fear."

"Fear?"

"I-"  He hesitated.  "I'm afraid because I keep hurting you, or
putting you in danger. I seem to do a good job of destroying 
your happiness."

I tried to comprehend what he was saying.  "You still blame
yourself for all that happened?  After all the discussions
we've had about how I could leave at any time?"

He closed his eyes. "Who else is there to blame?"

"Mulder," I said impatiently, "don't you think that I might have
an opinion here?  Didn't I have the choice to quit at any time?"

"When you tried to quit, I forced you to stay.  I played with 
your guilt..."

I shook my head.  "You didn't force me to do anything."

His head dropped.  "I just hate how I keep hurting you, so I try
to distance myself from you."  I couldn't believe how open
he was being, how much he was telling me.  I felt a 
surge of affection.

"Hey," I said gently, reaching out to gently ruffle his hair 
to break the tension a little.  "You hurt me more by distancing
yourself than you do by getting close, Mulder."

He looked up, and gave a small smile.  Then he reached up and
grabbed my hand.

"Don't you be messing my hair, Miss."

"Why not?" I teased.  "It's messy all the time, anyway."

He pouted.  "It's supposed to be sexy."  He leered at me.
"Does it work?"

I tried desperately not to smile, although I was glad for 
his teasing distractions.

Mulder looked up at me with somber eyes.  "It's my turn to
ask *you* a question now, Scully."

I was a bit taken aback, and my grip tightened slightly on the
coffeecup.  "Okay... What is it, Mulder?"

Mulder looked me in the eye, fiercely holding my gaze.  When
he spoke, his voice was strong and even:

"How do you feel about me, Dana Scully?"

Oh, God, anything but that.  My heart fluttered in my chest.

"I...I care for you a lot, Mulder, you're my best friend-"

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it," he said 
forcefully.  And there was something in his eye.  A small, 
pleading, hopeful spark.

"Mulder..."  My gaze dropped to the coffeecup in my hand.

"Look at me, Scully."

I gasped slightly in surprise at his command.  Mulder is
rarely so assertive.  I looked him squarely in the eyes,
knowing that there was no way out.  For while we held
each other's eyes, we could read each other's thoughts.
The eye never lies.

"What happened in that hallway, Scully?"  His voice was
hoarse and almost desperate.

Tears threatened to cloud my vision.  "I-" I swallowed.  "I-"
It was no use, I couldn't say it.  I wanted to desperately,
so badly that it choked me.  But those three words, those
three little words that Mulder had already told me once
in a state of delirium, wouldn't form in my mouth.

Mulder's head dropped slightly, breaking his gaze with mine,
and I felt my heart breaking along with his.  "Purely platonic," 
he murmured.

"Purely platonic," I echoed, dropping my head so that he 
couldn't see tears in my eyes.  I recalled a phrase from
a movie: 'and then the moment just...passes you by.'
How ironic that I, who pride myself on being a woman of
iron will and unsurpassable strength, lacked the courage
to voice what my heart had been telling me for years.

"C'mon," said Mulder dully, motioning with his hand.  "I'll 
walk you home."

I didn't even have time to finish my coffee.

* * *

It never occurred to either of us to take a cab, despite the 
distance.  We walked side by side, silently, each lost in 
our own thoughts, barely conscious of the other's presence.

Secrets, I thought.  Too many secrets.  I was trying 
desperately not to think of Fowley, of this Kristin 
person, of Bambi and Phoebe and...  I was jealous, horrified
at the thought of not being the only woman in Mulder's life,
"platonic" or not.

It was about an hour before we reached  my apartment.  Mulder 
lingered in the doorway, unsure of what to do, his face drawn
and fatigued.

"Come in," I told him wearily.  "Rest for a bit."

He gave me a thankful look, and shut the door.  He slowly pulled 
off his shoes, tossing them by the door, and strode forward to 
collapse on the sofa.  I gingerly took the other side of the couch.  
The middle cushion between us could have been the Pacific Ocean for 
all our emotional distance.  Another barrier, I noted dryly.

Neither of us said anything for awhile.  Then, suddenly, 
Mulder reached over, right across that damned middle cushion, 
and took my hand in his.

I didn't look up.  I bit my lip solidly to keep from showing any 
emotion; I held my head still and kept my breath in check.  Deep
inside me, however, my heart rate had tripled. 

His hand gently caressed mine, and I didn't need to look at him
to know that his hazel eyes were fixed solidly on me.  I shook
my head slightly.

"Mulder?"  Tears rimmed my eyes, and my voice cracked.

His other hand came up to my jawline, gently turning me until I
faced him.  My eyes met his, his sad hazel eyes, and I felt one 
of my tears spill over and trickle down my cheek.

"Why won't you tell me?" he said, barely audible.  I didn't 
let my eyes drop.

"Why won't *you* tell *me*?" I responded in a whisper, searching 
his eyes for an answer.

His face moved forward slightly, towards mine.  A tiny butterfly
of fear took flight in my stomach.  No. This wasn't right.

Was it?

I ignored my brain and listened to my long-neglected heart.  

I moved my head to meet him, and our mouths met gently in the 
middle.  The climax of a six-year long symphony.

His lips were soft and warm, and there is no way to explain what
I felt.  It was like music, beautiful, sweet music, or a waterfall
in a hidden grove.  Something precious and moving and beautiful, 
something you know will leave an impression on you for the rest of
your life.  The heat of his lips spread from my mouth to my face to 
my body to every last finger and toe, filling me with flames of youth 
and joyfulness I hadn't felt since the simplicity of childhood.  
I was drawn in, lost, floating in a sea of happiness and Mulder 
and warmth and me.

He pulled away suddenly, and the cool air of the room was suddenly 
on my lips, startling me out of my trance.  I blinked drowsily and
happily, until I noticed the fear in his eyes.

"Mulder..." I said, my voice sounding throaty and low.

And he smiled and the fear disappeared, because he saw that I wasn't
angry, that I didn't regret it.

"Six years, Scully," he whispered softly.

"Six years," I echoed.  I wanted to tell him that nothing had 
ever felt so right in my life, that it had been worth the wait 
and the pain.  That I had loved him from the start.  But I couldn't 
speak.  My jaw was frozen.  

But as I stared into his eyes, I could see that he understood.  That
like so much else between us, this could be said without being voiced.
The eye never lies.

Slowly, I leaned in for another kiss.

-----------------------------------------------------

The End

<hdbehl@canada.com>

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