TITLE: Conversation Hearts I: My Funny Valentine AUTHOR: Lara Means E-MAIL: darknesslight@aol.com CLASSIFICATION: SR RATING: PART 1 - PG - SERIES NC-17 ARCHIVE: Gossamer, NO; Spookys site, NO (I'll submit directly to both); Ephemeral, YES; anywhere else, YES, but if possible please let me know SPOILERS: Biogenesis/The Sixth Extinction/Amor Fati, Millennium SUMMARY: As Valentine's Day approaches, Scully gets a glimpse of Mulder's playful, romantic side. DATE POSTED TO ATXC: 02/20/00 FEEDBACK: Hey, writers live for this stuff. Constructive criticism is welcomed, on ATXC or at darknesslight@aol.com DISCLAIMER: "The X-Files" is copyright Twentieth Century Fox Television and Ten Thirteen Productions. The show, its premise and characters were created by Chris Carter and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be realized. (I've also borrowed the name of a character from Carter's "Millennium" as a pseudonym. Same disclaimer applies.) AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can never seem to write a fluffy little story -- that's how this started out, just a little ball of fluff about how Mulder and Scully might do Valentine's Day. (So I'm late, so sue me.) But now, well... "Conversation Hearts" is now a three-part series. This one, "My Funny Valentine," is Part One. Part Two, "The Dating Game" (rated R), will be posted shortly. Part Three, "Always, Forever" (rated NC-17), will follow after that. This is *not* a work-in- progress -- it's just a story I've got completely written in my head but haven't had the time to put down on paper yet. These stories are sort of a follow-up to my story "Nonessential Personnel." It isn't necessary to have read that story to follow these; just know that Mulder and Scully spent a day back in January playing in the snow and making out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CONVERSATION HEARTS I: MY FUNNY VALENTINE by Lara Means FBI Headquarters Office of Special Agent Fox Mulder Monday, Feb. 7, 2000 8:57 a.m. It started innocently enough. I had just come into the basement office and moved to put my laptop down when I saw it, just sitting there in the middle of my desk. A candy heart. Pink. With words on it. "You Are Cute." Obviously, my partner had arrived before me. I picked up the heart and smiled, then heard footsteps and smelled coffee. I turned to face him as he came through the door, two coffee mugs in his hands. "'Cute,' Mulder?" "Why, thank you, Scully. So are you." He grinned, handed me a mug and moved to sit behind his desk. I popped the candy heart into my mouth and crushed it between my teeth, returning his grin. My partner, an otherwise intelligent and somewhat rational man, had a romantic streak a mile wide -- and I suspected that Valentine's Day was about to bring out that side of him in spades. About a half-hour later, my suspicion was confirmed. I opened the flat desk drawer to get a pen and saw them. Five little tiny candy hearts, smaller than the other one, all with words on them. "Hug Me." "Cool." "Sweet Talk." "Smile." "Angel." I sighed deeply. Valentine's Day was still a whole week away. I put the hearts in a little pile on the desk and glanced at him. He was watching me, a tiny grin playing at his lips. I just shook my head and returned to my work. I reached into another drawer for an expense report form. There were three of them there, larger like the first one. "Be My Love." "You Rock." "I Got U Babe." I looked over at him, trying to be stern -- but he was smiling. Then he winked at me, and I had to laugh. "Mulder..." "Yes, Scully?" "What are you doing?" "Looking at you." I scooped up the hearts and moved to sit on his desk, close to him. "Mulder, we had an agreement..." "Scully, there are little candy hearts in your desk. There is no conclusive proof that I put them there. How could that possibly violate our agreement?" After seven years of dancing around the possibility of a relationship, Mulder and I finally kissed for the first time on New Year's Eve. And since our forced 'snow days' last month (when the federal government shut down for two days and he dragged me outside to play), we've been a bit more... demonstrative than before. More physically affectionate. Oh, hell -- we'd been kissing a lot. But I insisted that we keep it out of the office. We had to maintain a high level of professionalism on the job. So we had an agreement. "Mulder. 'Hug Me'? 'Sweet Talk'? 'Be My Love'? Come on." "Random picks out of the bag, Scully. They could've easily said 'Time Out' or 'E-Mail Me.'" But I knew my partner too well. He'd probably spent at least an hour last night picking out the ones he wanted, eating or tossing the others. I smiled gently and took his hand, dropped the "You Rock" heart into it and squeezed his fingers. "This is very sweet -- in more ways than one -- but Mulder..." He popped the heart into his mouth, his grin all but gone. "Just eat the damn candy, Scully." It was going to be a long week. Office of Assistant Director Walter Skinner Thursday, February 10, 2000 2:09 p.m. The candy hearts kept popping up in unexpected places -- my desk drawers, my pencil holder, my paper clip holder, my jacket pockets, the slide projector, the file cabinets... And they had all sorts of personal, potentially troublesome messages on them -- "Only You," "Love Me," "Kiss Me Again," "My Girl," "Amore," "All Mine," "One I Love"... My Mulder is nothing if not tenacious. This afternoon we sat in our customary places across the desk from the Assistant Director, watching almost nervously -- well, *I* was almost nervous -- as he reviewed our expense reports for the fourth quarter of 1999. We'd been traveling a bit more than usual since Mulder's illness, something I attributed to his need to prove -- to me, to himself -- that he is fully recovered and every bit as capable as he ever was. Personally, I've never doubted him -- but Mulder's self-confidence sometimes seems to wax and wane with the phases of the moon. So far, so good, though -- Skinner had only glanced up at us once or twice, which was usually a good sign. Then I saw it -- a bump underneath the next page. I held my breath as Skinner turned the paper over. He froze as he saw three hearts there -- two of the small ones, one larger, but I couldn't see what was written on them from where I sat. I stole a glance at Mulder, who refused to look at me. Skinner's eyes rose slowly, first meeting mine, then Mulder's. He picked up the large heart. "'1-800 Cupid'?" I could see Mulder hiding a smirk. Skinner picked up the smaller hearts. "'E Z 2 Love'? 'Cutie Pie'?" He looked at me as he read that one, his eyes demanding some sort of explanation. "I'm sorry, Sir... my nephew thought it would be fun to send Aunt Dana a bag of hearts with words on them... you see, he's two now, and he's talking more, and..." I reached out for the candy. "I'll just..." But Skinner dropped the hearts into his mouth and said, "Uh-huh." He went back to reviewing our expense report, and I could swear I saw a little smile on his face. Alone in the elevator, Mulder finally let out the laugh he'd been holding back. I, of course, smacked his arm. "Mulder, that was too close -- do you realize what could've happened?" "'Cutie Pie'! Oh, man... that expression was priceless! And you -- your *nephew* sent them? Brilliant, Scully!" "I want every little heart you've got sprinkled around the office rounded up by the end of the day. I'm serious, Mulder." I tried to maintain a glare, but it dissolved into a heavy-duty giggle by the time the elevator got to the basement. Hoover Building Parking Garage, 4th Level Thursday, February 10, 2000 6:49 p.m. Mulder made a concerted effort to find all the candy, and by the time we left for the day I had a paper cup nearly full of little pastel hearts on my desk. He'd been oddly quiet during his search, which I knew wasn't a good thing -- he wasn't exactly sulking, but I could tell he was a little hurt that his effort to be festive wasn't as well received as he'd have liked. We left the office together and made our way to our cars. We reached mine first and said goodnight. He moved on, then I called out to him. "Mulder." He turned around and I went to join him. I reached out and twined my fingers with his. He was surprised by the contact -- after all, we were still technically at work -- but he didn't break it. "It really was very sweet." "But a little overboard, huh?" "Well, never let it be said that Fox Mulder does anything halfway." He smiled at that. I gave his fingers a squeeze. "Thank you." "You're welcome." I let his hand drop and went back to my car as he moved on -- then he turned around again and came back. "Scully? Are you doing anything tomorrow night?" I shook my head as he reached my car. "What did you have in mind?" "Would you have dinner with me?" He looked kind of shy, wouldn't meet my eyes. I smiled as it dawned on me... "You mean, like a date?" He looked in my eyes just then and nodded slightly. "Mulder, you've never asked me on a date before." "I figure it's about time. Don't you?" I considered him for a moment. "Yes." It took him half an instant to realize that my one word answered both his questions. He smiled, nodded. "Good." He turned again and walked away. I could've sworn there was a little bounce in his step. I knew there was a bounce in mine. END to be continued in CONVERSATION HEARTS II: THE DATING GAME TITLE: Conversation Hearts II: The Dating Game AUTHOR: Lara Means E-MAIL: darknesslight@aol.com CLASSIFICATION: SR RATING: R ARCHIVE: Gossamer, NO; Spookys site, NO (I'll submit directly to both); Ephemeral, YES; anywhere else, YES, but if possible please let me know SPOILERS: Fire, Duane Barry/Ascension/3/One Breath, Tempus Fugit, Redux II, Biogenesis/The Sixth Extinction/Amor Fati, Millennium SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully's first date. DATE POSTED TO ATXC: 02/24/00 FEEDBACK: Hey, writers live for this stuff. Constructive criticism is welcomed, on ATXC or at darknesslight@aol.com DISCLAIMER: "The X-Files" is copyright Twentieth Century Fox Television and Ten Thirteen Productions. The show, its premise and characters were created by Chris Carter and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be realized. (I've also borrowed the name of a character from Carter's "Millennium" as a pseudonym. Same disclaimer applies.) AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can never seem to write a fluffy little story -- that's how this started out, just a little ball of fluff about how Mulder and Scully might do Valentine's Day. Now, well... "Conversation Hearts" is a three-part series. Part One, "My Funny Valentine" (rated PG), was posted on 2/20/00. This one, "The Dating Game," is Part Two. Part Three, "Always, Forever" (rated NC-17), will follow soon. This is *not* a work-in- progress -- it's just a story I've got completely written in my head but haven't had the time to put down on paper yet. These stories are sort of a follow-up to my story "Nonessential Personnel." It isn't necessary to have read that story to follow these; just know that Mulder and Scully spent a day back in January playing in the snow and making out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CONVERSATION HEARTS II: THE DATING GAME by Lara Means FBI Headquarters Office of Special Agent Fox Mulder Friday, February 11, 2000 4:37 p.m. The day passed uneventfully. Only two more candy hearts turned up, one in my laptop case and another in a box of blank disks. One said "I Wonder," the other "I Hope." I thought idly that he might've planted these that morning in anticipation of our date. Our date. Mulder and I had a date. I felt giddy, like a teenager -- the guy I like actually asked me out! God. I'm twenty years past that stage, I should be more mature about this... shouldn't I? I mean, after all, it's just a date, it's just Mulder. But that was the point. It was *Mulder.* My partner, my best friend, the man I... the man I love. And we were finally, finally taking another baby step forward. I glanced over at him. He was leaning back in his chair, feet on the desk, suit coat off, sleeves rolled up, pencil in his mouth, apparently engrossed in the latest issue of "Weekly World News." I took the opportunity to study my partner, something I didn't get a chance to do often. He usually caught me staring. Mulder has no idea what a truly beautiful man he is. He's grown into his looks over the years, become more handsome instead of merely attractive. I took in his hands, strong and gentle, as capable of delivering a knock-out punch as a soft caress. His arms, warm and comforting, always open. His shoulders, broad and supportive, bearing the weight of the world, deservedly or not. His eyes, an impossible blend of green and gold and brown -- I could very easily lose myself in his eyes. His mouth... The pencil fell from it at just the right moment and I stared unashamed at his lips. The upper one, slightly thin and perfectly bowed. The lower one, plump and full, occasionally pouty when he wanted it to be. His tongue darted out to moisten those lips and I inhaled sharply. His eyes found mine. "Scully?" Damn. Caught. I blinked, stalling, trying to keep him from realizing that all coherent thought had fled my mind. "Huh?" Yeah, that'll work. "Something wrong?" "No -- um, I was just, uh -- wondering about tonight. What time, where we're going...?" He smiled, folded his newspaper. "Eight o'clock, and it's a surprise." "It can't be a surprise, Mulder, I need to know how to dress." He pursed those lips, and I had to close my eyes for a second. "Up." My eyes came open and an eyebrow arched. "Dress *up*." "How 'up'? Formal, semi-formal, dressy casual...?" "I don't know, Scully, just... nicer than regular work clothes." "If you'd tell me where we're going, I could call." He shook his head, and I sighed. "Fine. I think I need to shop." I gathered up my things and left, tossing him an affectionate smile on my way out. I was rewarded when he pursed those lips again and blew me a kiss. Dana Scully's Apartment Friday, February 11, 2000 7:49 p.m. I knew exactly the dress I wanted to wear tonight. It was a sapphire blue matte jersey, too lightweight really for February but I didn't care. It was clingy and flowing at the same time, hugging at the waist and draping softly from my hips to my knees. The low neckline showed a little cleavage and dipped even lower in the back. And I didn't even have to shop for it. I found the dress just before Christmas, when I still harbored some hope that Mulder and I might have a 'normal' New Year's Eve. I should've known, of course, that 'normal' for us would involve hunting down the walking dead and forestalling the apocalypse in the process. Oh well -- at least we were together at midnight and finally shared a kiss, even if it was in an emergency room. So there I was, dressed to the nines and ten minutes early. I paced, touched up my makeup, checked my hair, changed earrings at least three times... then finally there was a knock on the door. I opened it and -- oh my God. Mulder. Beautiful couldn't begin to describe him. Elegant came close. His silk blend suit was a dark gray, lighter than charcoal, and clearly from some famous designer -- Donna Karan maybe, or Prada. A snow white shirt, dove gray tie and black wool overcoat completed the picture. The last time I saw him looking quite this impressive, he was wearing a tuxedo and kissing Phoebe Green. The thing was, he was looking at me with the same awe-struck expression I'm sure I was wearing. We stood there a moment, just staring open-mouthed at each other, then I recovered enough to ask him in. That's when I saw the rose. One perfect pink rose. Damn, he's good. "Scully, you..." That was all he could get out. I was at a similar loss for words. "You, too." I closed the door behind him and he held out the rose to me. "Happy Valentine's Day. I know it's not until Monday, but..." He leaned in and kissed me softly. I murmured a thank you and took the rose, moving into the kitchen to find a vase. On my way from the kitchen, he caught my arm. His fingers trailed down to turn my palm up, and he placed a small velvet box in my hand. "Happy Valentine's Day." "Mulder..." We exchanged shy smiles, and I kissed him again. "I want to save yours for later." "You didn't have to..." "Neither did you." "Well, since I did, why don't you open it?" I looked at the box again and raised an eyebrow in his direction. He gave me a nod and I lifted the hinged lid with a little trepidation -- I wasn't entirely certain that jewelry was appropriate at this stage in our relationship. But Mulder delighted in pushing the envelope, so I opened the box. What I saw took my breath away. Earrings. Pearls surrounded by amethysts. "Mulder... they're..." I looked up at him, at the uncertainty in those green-gold-brown eyes. "They're beautiful, but... they're far too expensive, I can't..." I closed the box, held it out to him. He didn't take it. "Now, Scully, it's bad form to question the cost of a gift." He said that with a little grin, but there was something in his eyes, in his voice. I'd hurt him -- I hadn't meant to, but I had done it just the same. My heart ached at that. Mulder took my hand, the one holding the box, and closed both of his over it. "Consider it an early birthday present. Amethyst is your birthstone, right?" He knew it was, that's why he chose them. I reached up and stroked his face, then covered his hands and smiled. "I don't know, Mulder. They can't quite compare with my Apollo 11 keychain." He smiled a little at that, but I could tell he was still upset. First the candy hearts at the office, now this -- he was trying to be sweet and sensitive and giving and loving, and all I did was rain on his parade. I could be such an idiot sometimes. I caressed his hands. "Well, now I know why I couldn't decide which earrings to wear." I tilted his chin up, made him look at me. "Thank you, Mulder." It was what I should've said in the first place. He smiled, some of his hurt assuaged. I kissed him, hoping to soothe away the rest of it, then went into the bedroom to put on Mulder's earrings. Mistral Restaurant Friday, February 11, 2000 8:26 p.m. Mistral was the Flavor of the Month as far as D.C. restaurants went -- great reviews from all the food critics, packed every night of the week, a month-long waiting list for reservations -- so either Mulder planned *very* far ahead or he knew someone. He'd been very quiet in the car. That wasn't like him -- usually he shrugged off stuff like this, brushed it off with a joke. For some reason it was different this time, and I knew I had to say something. I had to apologize -- which wasn't like either of us. Our apologies were usually unspoken or implied. Maybe that would have to change. Maybe it should. As the valet drove off, I took Mulder's hand. "Mulder... I'm sorry." "What for?" His voice was soft, but he wouldn't look at me. I stepped closer, touched his face. "For hurting you." He didn't say anything, so I went on. "Yesterday and tonight. You did something -- *two* somethings -- incredibly sweet and generous, and I..." He shook his head. "No, you... The thing at the office, you were right, it was too much, it could've caused... problems. And tonight..." "I should've just said thank you." "Scully, I saw them and I wanted you to have them, that's all. I never wanted you to feel obligated..." "What?" I searched his face, not believing what I was hearing. "You thought I didn't want them so I wouldn't feel like I owed you anything at the end of the evening?" The corners of his mouth twitched in a little grin. "It sounds kinda silly when *you* say it." "It *is* silly, Mulder. I thought we knew each other better than that." "We do -- we did, anyway. I don't know anymore, Scully, things... things are changing between us." "Mulder, we're still the same people. No matter what happens. The only reason I hesitated about accepting the earrings was because I thought they were too expensive for a Valentine's Day gift." "So I should've just said Happy Birthday instead?" I smiled up at him. "Thank you, Mulder. They're beautiful." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, fingered the earring there. "*You're* beautiful." He leaned in and kissed me, then we went inside. Mulder ordered a bottle of very good wine to accompany our meal -- chicken parmesan for him, fettucini alfredo for me. We held hands most of the evening, lacing our fingers together. We fed each other pasta, laughing when we missed and we got sauce on our faces. We wiped away the errant food, licking each other's fingers clean. We pulled each other close and kissed, softly gentle and deeply passionate. It all felt incredibly sensual. Maybe it was just that we were behaving this way in public. Maybe it was just that it was Mulder. Ruby's Bar Friday, February 11, 2000 10:42 p.m. As upscale as Mistral was, Ruby's was, well, downscale. Not run- down, but not fancy at all. Mulder and I were definitely overdressed. Ruby's was a neighborhood bar -- evidently, it was *Mulder's* neighborhood bar. It wasn't exactly in his neighborhood, but it was obvious he was a regular from the moment we walked in the door. "Foxy Mulder! Where you been keepin' yourself, darlin'?" That was Ruby, the owner -- a lithe black woman, shorter than me, her jet black hair shot through with steel gray. I raised an eyebrow at the name she used. Mulder just sighed and shook his head. He leaned down to give Ruby a peck on the cheek and introduced us. "What's your first name, honey?" I told her, and she clucked at Mulder. "Pretty name like Dana, and you call her Scully." "Ruby, I've told you about that..." "Uh-huh. Come on, I've got your table all ready." Mulder smiled and put his hand at the small of my back to guide me through the crowded bar. On the way we passed the bartender and a couple of waitresses, all of whom greeted him as 'Foxy.' I glanced back at him. "Come here often... Foxy?" He just sighed and shook his head again. Ruby showed us to a table with a little 'reserved' sign on it, far enough from the bandstand so we could hear each other talk, but close enough to the dance floor to reach it easily. And from what I could tell, both from the music and the way Mulder moved, we'd be dancing a lot. The band was playing an eclectic mix of classic R&B, jazzy blues and funky dance tunes. The female singer was tall and regal looking, with a rich voice I envied. Her male counterpart also played guitar, with a technique that seemed to be a cross between B. B. King and Jimi Hendrix. They were playing what sounded like the Gladys Knight arrangement of "I Heard it Through the Grapevine" as we came in -- Mulder's hands were immediately at my hips, willing me to move along with him. We were on the dance floor before I knew what hit me. We stayed on the dance floor almost constantly, holding each other close no matter the tempo of the song. Mulder's an incredible dancer. All his years of running, swimming, basketball, baseball -- his athletic grace translated beautifully to grace on the dance floor. Ordinarily I'm a very self- conscious dancer -- I've always thought myself too short to be all that graceful -- but with Mulder, I felt like Ginger Rogers, Cyd Charisse, Paula Abdul... He held me close but not too tight, guided my steps expertly. He also seemed to know the words to every song the band played -- he sang in my ear almost constantly, sometimes pulling away and singing directly to me when the words meant something to him. It was endearing and romantic -- and I loved seeing him like this. He was exuberant, almost joyful. It was worth every single candy heart strewn all through the office to see this side of him. When the band took a break, I went off in search of the ladies room and stopped at the bar to talk to Ruby. The FBI Agent in me took over as I asked questions, but she didn't hesitate to answer them. I was surprised to learn that Mulder had been coming to Ruby's a few times a month for nearly ten years. "He says he comes 'cause he likes the music. I think he just likes someplace to call home." I nodded -- that sounded like my Mulder -- then she continued. "Well, there *have* been a couple times when we wouldn't see him for months at a time..." I shrugged. "We travel a lot." Ruby shook her head. "He always tells me when he's out of town on a case." She paused a moment. "The first time was about five, six years ago -- when you were missing." I looked at her curiously. She knew about that? "After you were found he came back. Spent just one night sitting here with me, drinking and crying, then everything was back to normal." She paused again, then went on. "Second time was when you were in the hospital with your cancer, when things looked really bad." I felt the blood draining from my face and I wondered just how much of my life this woman knew about. "Same thing happened -- you got better and he came back, spent an evening drinking and crying, then..." Ruby looked at me, at the stunned surprise on my face, and smiled gently. "Don't worry, honey. He never talks about you to anybody but me. And I know how to keep my mouth shut." "I never knew how all that affected him. He never said..." "I imagine you never said how what happened to him last year affected you, either." "Yes, I did..." "Dana, if you were a regular here like he is, you'd have come in one night after you knew for sure he was gonna be okay, you'd have sat right there, drinking and crying, then you'd have gone on like nothing ever happened. Just like him." She shook her head again. "You have to be strong for him, like he has to be strong for you. You're both so busy being strong for each other..." She smiled then, that same gentle smile, and I returned it. I heard the band take the stage again and knew Mulder would be looking for me. I moved off to join him, then turned back to Ruby. "Does the band take requests?" "Sure do." She slid a notepad and pen toward me. I wrote down the name of the song I wanted to hear and handed the slip of paper to her. She read it and smiled. "Want 'em to read a dedication?" I considered it, then wrote down something else. Ruby read it and laughed. As I headed back to Mulder, I had to ask. "Ruby, why does everybody here call him 'Foxy'?" She laughed again as she passed me, on her way to the bandstand with my request. "Honey, you're gonna have to ask him about that." I reached our table just as the band launched into a spirited rendition of Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff" -- so naturally, I grabbed Mulder's hand and pulled him to his feet. Our bodies pressed close together, moving to the beat, I knew we were playing with fire. I could feel his breath on my face, and when he kissed my neck I shuddered. His hands slid from my hips up my back, teased at the low neckline there -- the feel of his fingertips on my skin was as intoxicating as the wine we'd shared at dinner. I knew I wanted more of that -- I wanted to feel his touch all over, I wanted to feel his skin on mine. I felt a bit cheated, though -- I couldn't feel him, his skin, under my hands. So I made the most of what I could touch -- I let my hands slip down his back to his hips, to his ass. He gasped a little at that, and pulled back to look into my eyes. I kissed him deeply, pulled his hips to mine, felt his arousal hot and hard against me. The song ended and he broke the kiss. We stood very still, eyes closed, breathing heavily. We opened our eyes at almost the same moment, and we came together in another kiss. Then, from the bandstand... "We're not disturbing you two, are we?" My blush started around my chest and spread all the way to my hairline. Mulder didn't seem the least bit embarrassed. He glanced up at the female singer, who was smiling at us. "Hey, Tasha? Shut up and sing." "Don't know if we need to do this next one after all. It's a request, to Foxy from Dana..." I glanced up at her then, and she gave me a little wink. I kissed Mulder gently as Tasha began to sing the song I'd requested. When he recognized it, he smiled and brought a hand up to stroke my face, then we began to dance. I felt warm and safe and loved in his arms -- I hoped he knew that, knew that the words Tasha was singing came from my heart, albeit by way of Aretha Franklin... "Oh baby, what you've done to me / You made me feel so good inside / And I just wanna be / close to you, you make me feel so alive..." When the song ended, he kissed me softly and whispered my name. I laid my head on his shoulder and we continued to dance through the next song, and the next -- I don't have a clear memory of what those songs were, just that I got to hold Mulder in my arms for awhile. The band started another song and I felt Mulder smile. He kissed my cheek as I heard Tasha say, "Scully, this one's for you." I glanced up at him, and he began to sing softly along with the guitar player... "When a man loves a woman / can't keep his mind on nothin' else / He'll trade the world / for the good thing he's found..." Oh, Mulder. Tears were threatening to fall. He held me close and I buried my face against his throat, planted a gentle kiss there. He kissed my ear and continued to sing along... "Well, this man loves you, woman / I gave you everything I had / tryin' to hold on to your precious love / baby, please don't treat me bad..." I looked up at that, then pulled him to me and kissed him deeply. When we parted, he ran his thumbs over my cheeks -- I was surprised to find that I'd started to cry. I looked up at him, my heart in my throat. "Mulder... take me home." END to be continued in CONVERSATION HEARTS III: ALWAYS, FOREVER TITLE: Conversation Hearts III: Always, Forever AUTHOR: Lara Means E-MAIL: darknesslight@aol.com CLASSIFICATION: SR RATING: NC-17 (for explicit sex) ARCHIVE: Gossamer, NO; Spookys site, NO (I'll submit directly to both); Ephemeral, YES; anywhere else, YES, but if possible please let me know SPOILERS: Fire, War of the Coprophages, Syzygy, Memento Mori, FTF, Triangle, The Rain King, Tithonus, Biogenesis/The Sixth Extinction/Amor Fati, Millennium SUMMARY: Scully gives Mulder her Valentine's Day gift. DATE POSTED TO ATXC: 03/09/00 FEEDBACK: Hey, writers live for this stuff. Constructive criticism is welcomed, on ATXC or at darknesslight@aol.com DISCLAIMER: "The X-Files" is copyright Twentieth Century Fox Television and Ten Thirteen Productions. The show, its premise and characters were created by Chris Carter and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be realized. (I've also borrowed the name of a character from Carter's "Millennium" as a pseudonym. Same disclaimer applies.) AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry to be so long in posting Part Three. Sometimes the Real World rears its ugly head and must be dealt with. Hope it's worth the wait. "Conversation Hearts" is a three-part series. Part One, "My Funny Valentine" (rated PG), was posted on 2/20/00. Part Two, "The Dating Game" (rated R), was posted on 2/24/00. This one, "Always, Forever," is Part Three, the last. These stories are sort of a follow-up to my story "Nonessential Personnel." It isn't necessary to have read that story to follow these; just know that Mulder and Scully spent a day back in January playing in the snow and making out. Also, I consider all these stories as being set sometime between Millennium and Orison. Frankly, Orison and Sein Und Zeit/Closure are just too damn sad to happen before these -- and the weather's all wrong in SUZ/Closure (February was cold and wet in *Southern* California -- can't imagine Mulder and Scully running around Sacramento in February without a coat). ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CONVERSATION HEARTS III: ALWAYS, FOREVER by Lara Means Dana Scully's Apartment Saturday, February 12, 2000 1:57 a.m. Neither of us said anything in the car. There wasn't anything to say, really. We just held hands, glanced at each other at traffic lights. We both knew that if we kissed there in the car, we'd never make it inside my apartment. As it was, we almost didn't. Standing at my door, my hands were shaking as I tried to unlock it. Mulder was behind me, close to me. He covered my hand with his, guiding the key into the lock and turning it. He nuzzled my neck and pressed his body against mine -- I could feel him, already hard, aroused. God, I wanted him. We finally made it inside and I was on him, pinning him against the closed door. Our tongues dueled for control, our hands were everywhere. We got each other's overcoats off and I ground my hips against him. We broke the kiss then, breathing hard and both gasping at the contact. "God, Mulder..." "Scully... we have to slow down a little." I looked up at him, questioning, saw the desire in his eyes. "I want this to be... I mean... I don't want it to be over before we really get started." I kissed him again, gentler this time. He smiled, knew I understood. I slipped his suit coat off his shoulders and draped it across the sofa, then took his hands and led him into the bedroom. We stopped just inside and I undid his tie, slipped it off and let it fall to the floor. I'd just started to work on his shirt when he pulled me to him and kissed me again, his tongue plunging into my mouth. He backed me up a few steps, then he released me and spun me around until we were both facing the mirror above my dresser. We stood there staring at our reflections, then he trailed his lips down my neck. I shivered. "Mulder..." He kissed and tongued and bit at my neck as his trembling hands unzipped my dress. He slid it off my shoulders and it pooled at my feet. I stood in front of him, my back to him, in my lacy bra and panties, pantyhose and three-inch heels. Mulder ran his hands up and down my arms, his knuckles grazing the sides of my breasts. "So beautiful..." I turned and stepped closer to him -- his hands slipped around my waist and I finished unbuttoning his shirt. Finally... what I'd craved so badly on the dance floor. I pushed his shirt open and ran my hands up and down his toned chest and stomach. I raked my fingernails lightly over his nipples and felt him shudder. I kissed his throat, my lips tracing over his collarbone. My tongue swirled around his nipple and he groaned. Mulder buried his hands in my hair and tugged, pulled my head back and laid claim to my lips again. His tongue swept my mouth, exploring every crevice. My hands tore at his shirt, finally got it off him completely -- I stroked and kneaded his broad shoulders, my nails scratched up his neck into his hair. I felt his fingers slip inside the waistband of my pantyhose and I pulled back, breaking the kiss. He was trying, but I knew he'd never get my nylons off on his own. I wasn't entirely certain *I* could manage. Breathing hard, licking lips that were swollen from our kisses, Mulder watched intently as I slipped the pantyhose down my legs. For the first time I got a real sense of, well, stripping for my lover. My lover. Mulder. I shivered, caught and held his eyes. He felt it too. I stepped out of my shoes, muttering under my breath about my lack of height. I tossed my nylons aside and considered putting my shoes back on. "Don't, Scully." Amazing, the way he can read me. He stepped closer to me, put his arms around me. "I think we fit together well." He'd said that to me that day in the snow -- the day we started in earnest down the road that would lead us here. He tilted my face up to his and kissed me gently -- but I was in no mood for gentle. My tongue invaded his mouth, plundering it, claiming it selfishly. My hands attacked his belt, and I could swear I felt his cock twitch at the movement. I managed to get the belt undone and the zipper down, then I slipped my hands around his waist, inside his pants, and slid them off his hips. Through silk boxers I caressed his firm ass, those tight globes of muscle I've watched moving under his designer trousers for so long -- and he did the same to me. God, we were like two teenagers copping a feel. We began to move toward the bed -- but since his pants were around his ankles, Mulder tripped and fell backwards onto the bed, taking me with him. We both laughed a little as I lay there on top of him, feeling him under me, his erection pressed against me, his hands on me. I looked at him as our laughter faded, then shifted and straddled him. I rocked against him, and he let out a long, slow breath. "Scully... is this really happening?" I just nodded, the sensation of our bodies touching taking away my ability to be articulate. He stared at me for a long moment, then... "And it's what you want?" God, was he really that uncertain, that insecure? Couldn't he see how badly I wanted this, wanted him? I pressed my body into his and leaned down close. I took his face in my hands, made him look into my eyes. "Mulder, I've wanted you for so long... I..." He smiled at me then, and before I knew it he had rolled us over so he was above me. "Just checking." And he kissed me again -- a deep, passionate kiss that told me he knew how I felt, knew what I wanted, knew exactly how to kiss me, how to touch me. This man knew everything there was to know about me, and still he wanted to know more. Just as I wanted to know everything and more about him. His feet were still entangled in his trousers, so he pulled away from me and stood up. I leaned up on my elbows and watched as he toed off his shoes and got his pants off. He stood there in his black silk boxers, his erection creating an impressive-looking tent. He seemed to be making a decision -- about what, I wasn't sure. After a moment he came back to me, still wearing his shorts. I sat up as he kneeled next to me on the bed and put his arms around me. Then I felt his hands working the hooks on my bra. He slipped the straps off my shoulders and down my arms, exposing my breasts to his intense stare. I felt my nipples harden under his gaze -- it was incredibly arousing, being studied like that. I reached out and took Mulder's hand in mine, brought it to my breast and held it there. He tentatively stroked me, cupped me. I let my hand fall away as his touch became more certain and he began to tease my nipple, tugging it between his fingers. He brought his other hand up to caress the other breast. He leaned in and kissed me, then his lips moved down my throat, down my chest until they reached the tops of my breasts. I arched my back a little, threaded my fingers through his hair. He swirled his tongue around my nipples, first one then the other -- he lavished such attention on my breasts I felt almost worshipped. Then he pulled my nipple into his mouth and I let out a whimper -- that's what it was. A whimper. Dana Scully does not whimper. God, what this man does to me. He gently eased me back onto the bed, his mouth never leaving my breasts except to move between them. His erection brushed my sensitive clit, and even through layers of silk and lace the sensation was electrifying. My thighs parted and my hips thrust up to meet his. He looked at me, his eyes dark with passion, that luscious mouth wet and glistening -- and he thrust against me. I swear, I almost came then. We were both breathing hard, and when he did it again we both cried out. We wasted very little time removing those last remaining layers of clothing between us -- soon we were lying naked together, Mulder above me, poised to enter me. I looked deep into his exquisite green-gold-brown eyes and was amazed by what I saw there -- desire certainly, but also an openness, a vulnerability I'd never seen before. I pulled him to me and kissed him, my tongue caressing his -- no longer fighting for control, we were focused on giving to each other, pleasing each other. He broke the kiss, looked into my eyes, seeking... I don't know, permission I guess. I smiled and stroked his face, then reached between us and wrapped my hand around his penis. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again as I guided him inside me. My own eyes grew wide at the sensation of being filled by him -- and that's exactly how I felt. Filled. It had been a long time for me, I knew that was part of it. And Mulder's, well... big. But I knew -- and he knew, too -- there was more to it than that. We didn't move, didn't say anything. We didn't want to break the spell just yet. We lay there, staring into each other. Joined. Then he moved. He pulled out almost completely, then slid into me again -- even deeper than before, which I didn't think was possible. We lay still for another moment, then he did it again. I wrapped my legs around him, drawing him in further. We picked up the pace together, our eyes locked, communicating wordlessly as we've done so many times before, in so many other situations. He kissed me hard, never breaking our rhythm. He stayed close, creating a delicious friction against my clit as he drove into me. I clutched at his back, his shoulders, dug my nails into him. I was close, so close... And he knew it. And he whispered in my ear. "It's okay, baby, I've got you... I'm here, you're safe... bet you're beautiful when you come... let go, sweetheart... come for me..." The sound of his voice alone almost sent me over the edge. Then he whispered again. "Love you, Scully... love you so much." My God. The power of his words. The truth in them. That's what did it. I was soaring. Screaming his name. And he was screaming mine. Emptying into me. My vagina pulsating around him. His cock throbbing inside me. Finally he collapsed on top of me, wrapping his arms around me. I tightened my legs around him, holding onto him, keeping him buried deep inside me. I wanted to stay like this forever. After a long, long time, he raised up a little and kissed me softly. He withdrew and I missed him instantly. He rolled onto his side and gathered me close. I kissed his throat and felt him smile. A few minutes later I felt him shiver. "Why is it so cold in here?" "Because we're lying on top of the covers, and we didn't turn the heat up when we came home." "We should fix that." But neither of us moved. We were far too comfortable in each other's arms. Then he shivered again. "Scully, I'm freezing my ass off here." "Can't have that. I'm not done with it yet." I smiled, kissed him, then moved to get up. "You get under the covers, I'll turn up the heat. You thirsty?" He nodded, kissed me again and slid under the comforter. I grabbed my robe and moved to leave, pausing in front of the mirror. I ran my fingers through my hair and stared at my reflection for a moment -- then my eyes met Mulder's in the mirror and he smiled. "I was right." I raised an eyebrow at him, questioning. "You're beautiful when you come." I blushed, returned his smile. "Of course, you're beautiful anyway, but Scully... I never thought I'd get to see..." He paused a moment, his face serious. "I meant it, you know. It wasn't just the heat of the moment. I love you." I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes. Tonight wasn't the first time he'd said it -- that was in the hospital after he'd nearly drowned in the Bermuda Triangle. I thought it was the Demerol talking and brushed him off, but now, tonight... He loved me. Mulder loved me. When I opened my eyes again he'd turned away from me. He looked a little sad, almost disappointed. I'd hurt him again, simply by not responding. My heart ached -- I couldn't let him think I didn't care about him, that I didn't love him too. I reached into my lingerie drawer and pulled out the cream- colored envelope I'd left there earlier. I sat next to him on the bed and held it out to him. He looked at me then and I smiled. "Happy Valentine's Day." He smiled softly and took the envelope. "Read it, Mulder. I'll be back in a minute." I squeezed his arm and started to get up, but he held onto me. "Scully?" The concern was evident in his voice. I ran my fingers through his hair, caressed his face, kissed him. "It's nothing bad, I promise. Just read it." I kissed him again and left the room. I turned up the heat and went into the kitchen. I poured a tall glass of water and stood at the sink, my eyes closed, thinking about what Mulder was reading... ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Friday 2-11-2000 Mulder, I've looked at that six times now, and it still doesn't seem quite right. A love letter should start with something more romantic, something like 'Dearest Mulder' or 'My Darling Fox' -- but those don't seem right either. Somehow, just plain 'Mulder' is the only thing that works. So... Mulder, Yes, it says 'love letter' up there. That's what this is. A love letter. You see, I'm not very good at expressing myself verbally -- not when it comes to my emotions, anyway. I can expound on scientific theory for hours, as I'm sure you're well aware, but ask me how I feel about something or someone and I get all tongue-tied. I'm much better at that stuff if I can write it down. I've always been like this, even as a little girl. Whenever Ahab would be at sea for months at a time I'd write angry letters telling him that I hated him, that he obviously didn't love us or he wouldn't go away for so long. I didn't really hate him, and of course I never sent the letters, but I felt better for having written them. Eventually I turned to diaries and journals, although I've never kept them regularly -- usually just when I'm confronted with strong emotions. But you know all about that, don't you? You read the journal I started when I first learned of the cancer. And I showed you my Africa journal, the one I wrote when you were ill last year. When I almost lost you. Since your recovery, it's become important to me to find a way to tell you how I feel, to let you know how much you mean to me. And a letter seems to fit with my preferred way of dealing with things. So... Quite simply, Mulder, you mean everything to me. Everything. The good and the bad. The positive and the negative. The light and the darkness. Everything. You play so many roles in my life, Mulder -- how could you be less than everything? You're my partner. The one who watches my back, who trusts me to watch his. Who has saved my life so many times, who's counted on me to do the same for him. Who's gone to the ends of the earth for me, as I have done for him. Whose mission, whose passion have become my own. You're my friend. My BEST friend. Someone who appreciates my love of old horror movies, my fascination with romance novels, my sense of humor. And I can appreciate your sense of humor, your taste in movies and... reading material. (Really, I can -- I'm just very good at hiding it.) You're my love. My beloved. That's such an old-fashioned word, but it's the best word. Because to me it implies something... intense. The depth of what I feel for you is so overwhelming it frightens me sometimes. And I think it's always been there. I know it always will be. The thing is, Mulder... all the roles you play in my life are intertwined. I can't compartmentalize you. Sometimes I can't even tell where you end and I begin. And that's why I felt the need to come clean -- to tell you how I feel. I love you, Mulder. With all my heart and soul. If I don't say it as often as either of us would like, please know that I do feel it. You are my life. My light. My love. My beloved. Yours always, Scully ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ By the time he'd finished reading, I was leaning in the bedroom doorway watching him. He lowered the paper and looked up at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears. I smiled a little, sipped from the glass I'd brought with me. He blinked and the tears fell. "Scully..." I sat next to him on the bed and wiped away his tears, then twined my fingers with his. "Wasn't supposed to make you cry." "Couldn't help it. It's beautiful, Scully. Thank you." I smiled and kissed him. He folded the letter and held it to his chest. "I will cherish this. Always." He placed it carefully on the nightstand, then did the same with my water glass. He drew me close and kissed me again. "Mulder, I do love you. I don't know why it's so hard for me to say it." "You're doing just fine." "I want to get better at saying it, at telling you how I feel. Will you help me?" He nodded, smiled, kissed me again. "It gets easier the more you say it. You'll see." I looked away from him then, remembering that hospital room. "When you said it the first time... Mulder, I should've..." "Scully..." I shook my head. "No, I have to..." "No." His voice was firm, and he took my hands. "Scully, I'm going to do something totally out of character. I'm going to make a rule." I raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Isn't *breaking* rules your usual specialty?" "I said it was out of character." He returned my grin. "So what's your rule?" He stroked my face and spoke very softly. "When we're in bed... I don't want us to dwell on the past. No regrets, no guilt, no 'I should've done this' or 'I wish I'd said that.' Okay?" I leaned in and kissed him gently. "I suppose if you can handle the 'no guilt' provision, I can keep from wishing I said that." "I didn't say it would be easy..." He smiled, slipped his fingers into my hair. "It's just that, when we're together like this, I want it to be about love and passion, not recriminations or missed opportunities." "Considering it's your first, Mulder, it's a good rule. But promise me something." "Anything." "If we really need to talk, we will. And we'll be honest with each other." "I always tell you the truth, Scully." "We tell each other the truth... but we're not always honest." He frowned, a little confused. "Ruby thinks we're both too busy being strong for each other." "She does, huh?" I nodded. "I think she may be right." He searched my eyes for a long moment. He must've found what he was looking for there -- he pulled me close and kissed me, his tongue teasing at my lips. "Come to bed, Scully." I slipped off my robe and slid between the covers. He gathered me up in his arms and I kissed him gently under his jaw. "I love you." I felt him smile and his arms tightened around me. "See? It's getting easier already." Dana Scully's Apartment Sunday, February 13, 2000 10:52 p.m. We spent the weekend together without really planning to. The only discussion about it happened at Mulder's apartment, when we stopped there late Saturday morning for him to change into some jeans. I told him he should just pack an overnight bag and bring a suit for Monday -- he seemed pleasantly surprised that I'd suggest such a thing. We didn't, however, spend the *entire* weekend in bed -- most of it, certainly, but not all of it. We went to dinner and a movie Saturday, and on Sunday we went to brunch and rented some videos. We spent Sunday evening on the floor in front of the fireplace as we had that Tuesday last month, wrapped up in each other's arms and talking. We talked about important things, things that Mulder's Rule made off-limits in bed -- our fears, mostly. I pushed it, I know, but I wanted him to know what was going through my mind in that hospital room when he told me he loved me for the first time. "I was afraid, Mulder. Afraid you didn't mean it the way I wanted you to, afraid you were just saying it because of... of everything we'd been through..." "Dallas. Antarctica. And what happened in between." His voice was very soft. I nodded. "What I told you, Scully -- I wasn't just saying that. It wasn't some desperate attempt to keep you from leaving me." I cocked an eyebrow, gave him a look. "Okay, maybe it was, but I still meant what I said." "That I made you a whole person?" "Scully, I don't know where I'd be -- *what* I'd be -- without you. I don't know what I'd do if you... if I lost you." "If I left you." He looked away, gave a little nod. "You've been afraid of that for a long time, haven't you?" He nodded again, still wouldn't look at me. I took his hands, tilted his face toward me. "Do you remember the situation then? I was being transferred -- to *Utah*. I was ready to resign before I'd let them send me two thousand miles away from you." "I remember." "I remember you tried to make me leave you. 'Get as far away from me as you can,' you said." He turned away again. My heart was breaking -- he didn't want to hear any of this, but if we were to have a future it had to be said. "There was such a war going on inside you, Mulder. You were terrified I'd leave you but you wanted to keep me safe, and you thought the only way to do that was to push me away. But Mulder... *you* are not the work." He looked at me, puzzled. "I'm committed to the work, you know that. And I don't pretend that we could ever fully separate what we do from who we are -- honestly, I don't think I'd ever want to try. But if I had to make a choice, Mulder, you or the X-files... it's you. It'll always be you." There was such wonder in his expression that I had to ask, to make sure. "You understand?" Mulder smiled gently, nodded, caressed my face. He brought his lips to mine -- much like our New Year's Eve kiss, this one was sweet and soft. I could feel how much he loved me in that kiss. Then he pulled me into a warm embrace and whispered. "I love you, Scully." I sighed, snuggled close to him. "I love you, too." I could feel him smile. I was indeed getting better at saying it. "But as afraid as you've always been that I'd leave you... that's how afraid I've been that you'd..." I wasn't certain I could finish the thought, that I could admit to this particular fear. "Scully? That I'd what?" I closed my eyes and hugged him tighter. "That you'd fall in love with someone else." He laughed a little and I felt my body stiffen involuntarily. He pulled away, made me look at him. He studied my eyes for a moment. "You're serious." I tried to turn away, but Mulder wouldn't let me. "Despite the fact that I didn't have a right to be... fuck, *jealous*, I hate that word... I was. I was afraid I'd missed my chance with you, that you'd get tired of waiting and find someone else." I felt tears forming -- the last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of him, over something so... But it wasn't inconsequential, it wasn't unimportant. This fear of mine, irrational though it might be, was something I'd have to face -- especially now that the nature of our relationship had changed. He stroked my cheek and I leaned into his touch, kissed his palm as he whispered. "Tell me." I took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. There was so much trust, so much love there... "It started with Phoebe Green." He looked surprised. "That was seven years ago. We'd been working together less than a year..." "I didn't say it was logical, Mulder." I closed my eyes and let the memory flow. "It was at that hotel in Boston. You were dancing with her, and you... you kissed her. I knew you'd been together before, you had a history with her, and nothing had ever happened between *us*, certainly, I don't think I'd even indicated to you that I might be interested..." "Scully. Stop trying to make sense of it and just tell me." His voice was so gentle. "And then, after the fire, when you woke up in your room and I was there taking care of you and..." "I asked for her." I looked at him then, nodded. "Until that moment I was sure you still needed me, if only as a doctor, a scientist. I knew I couldn't compete with her, she was so tall and elegant and sophisticated, and I was... short and young and naive..." He hugged me, kissed the top of my head, stroked my hair. "Scully, I'll *always* need you, never doubt that. As for the rest... you've been the only woman I've wanted for so long, it's hard to remember a time when... I think with Phoebe, it was the comfort of the familiar. It was easier than pursuing something new." I nodded, gave a tiny laugh. "Part of me really wants to say, 'oh yeah, what about...' and reel off a list of every woman you've so much as flirted with for the last seven years." "Would it make you feel better if you did?" I shrugged. "Scully, I am an open book to you. If you want to ask, ask." I glanced at him, eyebrow cocked, a grin tugging at my lips. "Bambi Berenbaum." His mouth fell open in surprise. "Uh..." "Open book, Mulder?" I smiled, shook my head. "I'm trying to remember... oh yeah..." He grinned. "She had long legs and big tits." I laughed. "You are such a... a *man*." "And you love me for it." "Yes, I do." I kissed him, my tongue probed at his lips and he opened his mouth to me. His hands roamed up and down my back, and one slipped under my sweatshirt to caress my breast. "So, do they measure up to Bambi's?" "I don't know, I never got this close to Bambi's." He played with one nipple, tugging and pinching, rolling it between his fingers until it was almost painfully hard, then he did the same to the other one. God, this man could play me like a piano. "Anybody else?" He kept kissing me, kept stroking my breasts. "Um... Angela White?" She was safe -- I knew the answer to that one. "The stars were misaligned." His mouth moved to my ear, my throat. "Who else?" I moaned as he bit my earlobe. "Oh Mulder... yeah..." He had learned my sensitive spots very quickly. "C'mon, Scully, who else?" I didn't want to talk about this anymore. I just wanted him to keep touching me, and I wanted to touch him. But I knew he wouldn't leave it alone yet. "Sheila what's-her-name, that little town in Kansas with the flying cow..." "Not funny, Scully, that cow could've killed me." "C'mon, Mulder... Sheila." He smiled, moved down my body, his mouth on my stomach. "Completely one-sided. I did everything I could to discourage her." "You kissed her." "She kissed *me*." "She..." He nibbled the underside of my breasts, and I had trouble remembering what I was trying to say. "She told me I should try it sometime." "Try what?" His tongue lapped at my nipples. I was breathing hard, and my fingers were threaded in his silky hair. "Kissing you... said you were really... really good." I felt him laugh against my skin and I arched my back, holding him to me as he suckled my breast like a baby. We agreed without words that the discussion was over -- even though we were on the floor in my living room, we'd crossed the line into being in bed, so Mulder's Rule was in force. It was just as well -- I wasn't ready to bring up the one name I needed to. All I wanted was to lie there in his arms, his mouth and his hands and his body doing wondrous things to me. I pulled my sweatshirt over my head as he tugged off my leggings and panties. I drew his tee-shirt up, pushed at the waistband of his sweats. I wanted him naked, wanted to see the firelight reflected off his sumptuous body. Mulder smiled and complied, then returned to my arms, to his apparent goal of tasting every millimeter of my skin. He ran his lips down my stomach, his tongue dipped into my navel, and I quivered. He trailed his mouth over my abdomen and paused a moment. At first I wondered why and I glanced at him -- then I realized. The scar. In my mind, a reminder of how much I needed him, depended on him as my partner. In his, no doubt a sign of his inability to protect me, to keep me safe. I brought a hand to his face, saw the tears in his eyes. I shook my head fiercely. "Don't." He looked up at me, opened his mouth to speak, but I put my fingers to his lips. "No guilt, Mulder. Love and passion, remember?" I felt him smile against my hand and he nodded. I brushed away his tears, slipped my fingers into his hair as he leaned down and kissed the scar. Then his mouth moved further down my body, toward his eventual destination. I shivered when I felt his breath between my legs. His lips were soft on my thighs, his tongue rough against my already slick folds. He lapped at my clit as he leisurely slipped a finger into me. He stroked my inner walls, his tongue swirling around that tiny bundle of nerves, my fingers kneading his scalp. My hips thrust against him and his free hand moved to my ass, supporting me, caressing me. Mulder knew instinctively how to touch me, how to give me the most pleasure. How to bring me to orgasm quickly, and how to draw out the experience for both of us. He was easily the most attentive, most sensitive, most giving lover I'd ever had. He was the only lover I ever wanted, ever again. He began stroking me faster, flicking my clit with his tongue. My fingers tightened in his hair, my hips jerked against him. Then he withdrew his finger and looked at me, unbridled lust in his eyes -- he kept those eyes locked with mine as he licked my juices from his finger. I quivered and my head fell back, my orgasm building just from watching him do that. Then his mouth was on me again, his tongue probing, his teeth scraping, his lips caressing. He sucked my clit into his hot mouth, the suction delicate at first then more forceful... The power of this orgasm was extraordinary. My body went rigid, my vision grayed out, I began to tremble uncontrollably. Mulder stayed with me the whole time, his mouth on me, his strong hands caressing me, his eyes seeing through me, into my very soul. When I finally came back to him, I realized I still had his hair in a death grip. I let go and smoothed my fingers through it, then pulled him close to me, guided him into me. We made love by firelight, slowly and deliciously. His own staggering climax triggered another one in me, not as powerful but no less intense. I held him and soothed him as he recovered, and we drifted off to sleep wrapped up in each other, murmuring words of tenderness and devotion. Sometime later I became aware of being lifted -- I opened my eyes to find the fire dying and Mulder cradling me in his arms, picking me up off the floor. "Mulder, what...?" "Shh. Go back to sleep." I snuggled against him, kissed his throat and closed my eyes. A few moments later I felt him lower me to the bed and draw the sheet and comforter over me. Then he turned out the light and spooned up against me, holding me tight. I smiled and turned my head to look at him. "Did you set the alarm?" "Mm-hm." "What time?" "Six. Is that early enough?" I nodded, reached up and kissed him. He deepened it, our tongues dancing in each other's mouths -- but we just kissed, with no thought to anything else tonight. I was almost asleep again when I heard him whisper in my ear. "I know you weren't finished, Scully." My eyes came open and I turned toward him. "Mulder..." "It's okay... I just want you to know that when you're ready... I'll be here." I looked at him then, and I saw that same openness and vulnerability I had seen when we made love for the first time. I was overwhelmed by my love for this man, and tears threatened to fall. I tried to close my eyes before he saw them. "Scully?" Too late. I shook my head and smiled at him. "I love you so much." That and the smile seemed to ease his concern. I turned over so I could rest my head on his chest, so I could hear his heart beating in the night. He gathered me in his arms and we both drifted off to sleep. Dana Scully's Apartment Monday, February 14, 2000 5:33 a.m. It's a rare occurrence when I'm awake before Mulder. Whenever we're in the field, I've always heard the shower in his bathroom running as I woke up. And both mornings this weekend, I opened my eyes to find him smiling at me and stroking my face -- so I reveled in this chance to study him in sleep. My God, he's such a beautiful man. The lines that give his face character in our waking hours melted away as he slept -- he looked younger, less careworn. There was almost an innocence about him, even though Mulder's innocence had been ripped away from him at the age of twelve. He looked... peaceful. Had I done that for him? Had the simple act of sleeping next to me taken away the tension and stress our work brings him? Had the not-so-simple act of taking our relationship to another level relieved him of one more thing to think about in the night? I felt his heart beating. I felt him breathe. I felt so much love for him, and from him. I reached up and touched his cheek, the rough stubble there. He shifted a little, his arms tightened around me. I ran my fingers over his full, sensuous lips. He pursed them reflexively, kissed my fingers. I felt his breathing change as he started to wake up. He peered at me under his lashes and smiled. "What'cha doin'?" "Watching you sleep." "S'posed to be my job." "You got to do it Saturday and Sunday. I wanted a turn." He kissed my temple and I snuggled against him. "Time is it?" "'Bout five-thirty." His eyes opened a little and he grinned. "Alarm doesn't go off till six." I returned his grin. "I know." I moved up his body to kiss him fully on those exquisite lips, nibbling on the plump lower one. He responded, tried to roll over on top of me. I gently pushed him onto his back and straddled him, his growing erection nudging my ass. I broke the kiss and sat up, looked down at him through the curtain of my hair. He reached up and tucked it behind my ears, let his fingers linger on my face. I ran mine over his eyes, his nose, his lips. "So beautiful..." He laughed a little. "You're stealing all my best material this morning." "Mulder... you just don't know..." "What don't I know, Scully?" His voice was husky, rough with desire. I closed my eyes, my hands still exploring his face. "I watch you sitting there, behind your desk, next to me in Skinner's office, beside me in the car... and my heart races. I see you working, the wheels turning, puzzling things out, trying to make sense of things that just don't make sense... and I can't breathe. I notice you talking to people, questioning witnesses, interrogating suspects, coaxing some bit of information from them..." I opened my eyes just then -- there was an expression of awe on his face. He honestly didn't know. His fingers were still on my cheek, and I turned to touch my lips to them. "And I'm so proud, Mulder. Of the man you are." "It's because of you, you know." I shook my head a little. "Yes, Scully, it is. As much as you say I'm everything to you... you're everything to me." He slipped his hand behind my neck and we came together in another kiss -- full of passion, full of love. My lips moved to his ear, his neck, that sensitive spot along his jaw. His hands trailed up and down my spine as I shifted down his body, my tongue circling his nipples. I ran my fingernails through his soft dusting of chest hair, his toned abs. I climbed off him, scooted further down, touched his stomach, his hips, his thighs... and finally, finally... I heard him gasp as I took him in my mouth. His hips gave a reflexive thrust and he flexed his hands, hovering over my head but grabbing hold of the sheets instead. My eyes drifted shut, my hand fondled his balls, my lips sealed around his cock. "Oh god... Scully... that's... you..." Mouth moving, tongue swirling, teeth nipping, hand gripping, fingers caressing... There was such power in this act. I didn't want to abuse the control I had over him, but I longed for Mulder to relinquish his to me. He couldn't keep his hips still -- he kept thrusting up to meet my mouth. His hands clutched at the sheets, touched my head, stroked my hair. Suddenly I felt his fingers grip my hair -- he was close, trying to pull me away. "Scully... I'm gonna... please..." I reached up and took his hand in mine, laced our fingers together, my mouth never stopping its movements on his hard, hard cock. I increased the suction ever so slightly -- but it was enough. He gave one more thrust, his hand tightened in mine, he cried out... "Scully! Scuh..." I stilled my movements as he came, his cock pulsing, emptying into my mouth. I drank in his essence, held tight to his hand, not wanting to break the connection just yet. Then... The fucking alarm went off. I froze at the sound, then I heard him slap at the clock, hitting the snooze bar. I swirled my tongue around him once more and released him, moved up his body to lie next to him. He was breathing hard, eyes closed, and he still held onto my hand. I stroked his cheek and turned his face toward me, kissed him gently. He dragged his eyes open and smiled. "Hey, you..." I returned his smile. "Hey yourself." He brought my hand to his lips, kissed it, held it there. "Scully, that... that was..." I kissed his hand too, and he closed his eyes. "You're the most amazing woman." I shrugged. "Not so amazing. Just in love." "That's what I find so amazing." He drew me into his arms and kissed me, tasting himself in my mouth. My own arousal grew as his hands moved up and down my back, my hips, my legs. He slipped a hand between my thighs and stroked me there. "God, Mulder... yes, right there... oh yeah..." The damn snooze alarm went off just then, and I reached out to slap it off again. After a couple of attempts I knocked the clock off the nightstand and Mulder... Mulder pinched my clit between his fingers and I was flying. I bit into his shoulder as I shuddered and cried out. Breathing hard, I kissed his shoulder where I bit him. "How do you do that?" He laughed. "Trade secret." "No, I... how do you know exactly how to touch me?" He kissed me, smoothed the hair off my forehead. "I'm in love with you." It really was as simple as that, for both of us. We loved each other. We were in love with each other. So we knew. FBI Headquarters Office of Special Agent Fox Mulder Monday, February 14, 2000 9:08 a.m. Against my better judgment, we took a shower together -- which, of course, made us late. We didn't have time for breakfast at my place, so Mulder offered to stop at the coffee shop near the office to pick something up. We shared our goodbye kisses inside the apartment. We knew -- again, without discussion -- that we should be careful with our newly acknowledged emotions. We knew our enemies would like nothing better than to use our relationship against us, so our agreement to keep things professional on the job still held. But that wouldn't stop me from having a little fun at the office. The moment I walked in the door, I dropped my things and grabbed the paper cup filled with little pastel hearts. I spread them out on my desk and searched for the ones I wanted. I smiled when I found them, arranged them on Mulder's desk then scooped the rest back into the paper cup. After a few minutes I heard his familiar footsteps coming down the hall. I gave my attention to the file in front of me and smiled, but I didn't turn as he came into the office. "Morning, Mulder." "Morning, Scully." He handed me my coffee, our fingers brushing. "Muffin?" I cocked an eyebrow in his direction, grinned. "Watch those pet names, Agent Mulder." He smiled as I reached into the bag he held out. Almond poppyseed. My favorite. I love this man. He rounded his desk and set the bag down. Then he saw the hearts. Three of them. His eyes found mine and we exchanged shy smiles. "Happy Valentine's Day, partner." "Back at ya, G-woman." He picked up the little candy hearts one by one and dropped them into that luscious mouth... "I Love You." "Always." "Forever." END TITLE: Taking Care of My Partner AUTHOR: Lara Means E-MAIL: darknesslight@aol.com CLASSIFICATION: SAR RATING: NC-17 (for language, explicit sex and general mushy- ness) ARCHIVE: Gossamer, NO; Spookys, NO (I'll submit directly to both); Ephemeral, YES; anywhere else, YES, but if possible please let me know SPOILERS: general knowledge through season seven; specific (if sometimes vague or slight) mentions of Squeeze, One Breath, Dod Kalm, Anasazi, Never Again, Memento Mori, Gethsemane, Redux II, Triangle, How the Ghosts Stole Christmas, Tithonus, Two Fathers/One Son, Arcadia, Agua Mala, Milagro, The Unnatural, Biogenesis/The Sixth Extinction/Amor Fati, Millennium, Rush; foreshadows Theef (a little). Takes place prior to Orison. SUMMARY: Scully's been working hard on a case, and Mulder plans an evening of pampering. DATE POSTED TO ATXC: 04/06/00 FEEDBACK: Hey, writers live for this stuff. Constructive criticism is welcomed at darknesslight@aol.com DISCLAIMER: "The X-Files" is copyright Twentieth Century Fox Television and Ten Thirteen Productions. The show, its premise and characters were created by Chris Carter and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be realized. (I've also borrowed the name of a character from Carter's "Millennium" as a pseudonym. Same disclaimer applies.) AUTHOR'S NOTE: Huge thanks to Georgia for a very reassuring beta read, and to the Beta Readers Circle for hooking us up. This is a follow-up to my stories "Nonessential Personnel" and the three "Conversation Hearts" stories. (They can be found at Ephemeral or the 2000 Spooky Awards site, but Georgia says you don't have to read those to get this one.) This is more angsty than I originally intended it to be, but when you're dealing with grown-ups in their late thirties who've been through as much as these two have, there's gonna be baggage... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TAKING CARE OF MY PARTNER by Lara Means Fox Mulder's Apartment Monday, February 21, 2000 10:23 p.m. I miss Scully. Man, I am so far gone for this woman. It'd only been since Saturday, and already I missed her so badly I could cry. Scully and I crossed the line just ten days ago. Friday night, February eleventh. Our first date. Dinner at Mistral, dancing at Ruby's -- of course, Ruby was in fine form. Called me 'Foxy' the minute we walked in the door. Scully hasn't asked about it, thank god -- well, not yet, anyway. And then... after. Sweet jesus, after. Dancing with her had been tough enough, especially with her groping me the way she was. Not that I minded -- I'd been in a near-constant state of arousal from the moment I laid eyes on her that night. My god, she was beautiful, especially in blue. Then she had the band play that Aretha Franklin song, "Natural Woman," and she held me close, kissed me like there was no tomorrow. The next thing I knew they were playing *my* request, "When a Man Loves a Woman," and Scully was crying... then she said, "Take me home." We almost didn't make it inside her apartment. We kissed, we touched, we... we made love. It wasn't just about sex, about fucking. This was... this was more. Making love with Scully was... incredible. Everything I'd imagined, everything I'd hoped for -- and so far beyond both. We knew each other's bodies instinctively, but took the time to explore and touch and taste. God, the taste of her... I told her that I love her. Again. This time she believed me. And she told me she loves me, by way of the most wonderful Valentine's Day gift -- a love letter. No one's ever written a love letter to me before. I'd expected taking the next step to be difficult. Why should it be easy? Nothing else in our lives was. We've been partners and friends for seven years. We spent a couple of days last month getting comfortable with being closer, kissing in the snow and talking by the fire. We both knew things were changing between us, that we were headed toward something more, but I don't think either of us knew what to expect -- and I think we were both a little hesitant to move forward after everything we've been through, afraid the sky would fall or something. But when it finally happened, it was so sweet... Still, from a simple kiss on New Year's Eve to the horizontal mambo in less than six weeks -- that wasn't something either of us expected to happen so quickly, much less something we expected to be easy. But it was. In the final analysis, giving in to our desires was easy. Making love with her was easy. When we finally came together, it was as if we'd been lovers all our lives. Lovers. Scully and me. Christ. We spent the whole weekend together -- her idea, which stunned the hell out of me. We went out, we stayed in, we made love again and again and again... I don't know about her -- well, yes I do -- but I was really out of practice. I was aching in places I didn't know I had. Monday at the office was rough. We had a meeting with Skinner, and my mind kept going back to something she'd said that morning, just before giving me the finest blowjob I've ever had -- something about sitting next to me in Skinner's office and not being able to breathe. What she didn't know was that she had the exact same effect on me. She always had. I kept glancing at her all during that meeting, trying to concentrate but failing, knowing that I couldn't touch her, kiss her, hold her until after work. I'm sure Skinner noticed, but I really didn't give a damn. We barely made it into her apartment before we were on each other, hands and mouths and tongues everywhere. My pants were around my ankles, her skirt was hiked up to her waist, she was backed up against the wall, her legs were wrapped around me and I was inside her, pounding into her, telling her how much I loved her and she was telling me too, riding me, holding on tight, biting and sucking on my neck as I dug my fingers into her ass and her hand was between us, stroking and pulling and rubbing her clit, and I felt her fingers around my cock, at the place where we were joined, and oh my god it felt so good, so very right... The rest of the week was every bit as difficult at work and pleasurable at home. We fought to keep our hands off each other at the office, then fucked like bunnies at her place. Always at her place. Maybe she was just being cautious -- we both knew that my apartment had been under surveillance on more than one occasion. Or maybe it was just that her place is nicer than mine and a little closer to the office. But I've had so many fantasies of making love to her on this big leather couch... Saturday night we were out, about to go into a movie, when her cell phone rang. It was the head of pathology at Quantico -- the Richmond police had uncovered a mass grave in a vacant lot and had requested the Bureau's assistance in autopsying and identifying the victims. Scully's the best at what she does, so naturally they'd ask for her. Can't say I didn't have a slight pang of jealousy that ISU hadn't asked for *my* help too -- I'm still a damn good profiler, whatever my other interests might be. But Scully had to leave right away -- no movie, no making love after the movie, no waking up together and making love the next morning. They kept her busy late Saturday night and all day Sunday, and by the time she got home Sunday night it was so late she just called to tell me goodnight and that she'd be at Quantico on Monday too. So I rattled around the office all day, lonely and bored, adding at least a dozen pencils to the collection in the ceiling tiles. I came home early, unable to stand my own company at the office any longer. I ate dinner, I don't remember what, then settled on the couch with the TV remote in my hand. I glanced idly through my video collection, but watching a porn video just didn't hold any fascination -- and I knew it couldn't lead to a decent jerk- off session, not anymore. It'd been so long since I'd used them as inspiration -- all I've needed for years are my fantasies of Scully. I've been wondering if I really wanted to keep my tapes now, now that I've actually *experienced* the best sex of my life with the woman I love. Maybe Frohike would inherit them sooner than he'd hoped. I just laid there on the couch, channel-surfing, not pausing anywhere for more than a few seconds. I was bored, I was lonely. I missed Scully. I *wanted* Scully. I let my eyes drift shut, let the memories of our scant week of lovemaking play out in my mind. I could feel myself getting hard at the image of Scully's breasts under my hands, her legs wrapped around me, the sound of my name on her lips when she came... I slipped a hand inside my sweatpants -- God, this was so much better now, now that I had real memories of her instead of my fantasies... In my mind I was tasting her, plunging my tongue into her, licking and sucking her sensitive little clit until she was writhing under me and I was close, so very very close... Then the phone rang. Fuck. I let the answering machine pick it up. "This is Fox Mulder, leave a message." BEEP. "Mulder, it's me." My eyes flew open at the sound of her voice and my hand stilled. I was hard, painfully hard, but I couldn't jerk off with her on the phone, on my answering machine. "I was hoping you'd be home... maybe I'll try your cell..." She sounded tired, sad. I had to talk to her. I tried to steady my breathing and reached for the phone. "Yeah, Scully, I'm here." "Mulder, are you okay? You sound funny." I was still breathing hard, and I could tell my voice was shaky. "Yeah, I'm okay, I... I was in the other room, I tripped over my sneakers trying to get to the phone." "I could've just left a message." "No no, I wanted to talk to you. I miss you." I hoped I didn't sound as pathetic as I felt. "I miss you, too." She paused a moment and sighed. I glanced at the clock on the VCR -- god, was it really almost 10:30? "Did you just get home?" "Um-hm." "Damn, Scully, what are they trying to do, kill you?" "There's just so much work. I'm one of four pathologists, we're all working practically nonstop... There were almost fifty bodies, Mulder." She paused again and her voice went soft. "All women, older women." She drew in a shaky breath, and I could tell she was trying not to cry. "One of them today... Mulder, she looked like my grandmother." Oh god. I wanted to hold her, to kiss her and tell her everything would be okay. "Are you all right?" I heard her sniffle. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm so tired, I just want to go to bed." "Want some company?" She didn't say anything for a second -- I didn't want her to misconstrue my intentions. "I don't mean it like that, I mean..." "I know, Mulder. And I *do* want to see you... but I'd be asleep before you could get here." I didn't care, I just wanted to be with her, but I respected her decision. "How much longer?" "There are five, maybe six more bodies to be autopsied. With four of us working, we should finish up tomorrow." "Any ideas about the UNSUB?" "I don't know, we're not involved with that. I'm surprised ISU hasn't called you in yet -- you're still listed as a consulting profiler, aren't you?" "Yeah, but you know I'm too 'out there' for them. They'd expect a profile of some sort of age monster." "What, like something that causes premature aging as it kills? Or kills with rapid aging? I know we've seen both those phenomena, but Mulder..." "Scully... I wasn't advancing it as a theory. The killer's probably some garden-variety psycho who hated his grandmother." I heard her sigh again, and her voice got even softer. "God, I'm tired." "Get some sleep, okay?" "'Kay. Love you." "Love you, too." She didn't hang up right away, and a thought hit me. "Hey, Scully? Can I make dinner for you tomorrow night?" "Don't know when I'll get home." "That's okay, I'll make something that'll keep. I just... I need to hold you." "I need you to hold me." She was whispering, and there was a little tremor in her voice. "Okay then. I'll be waiting. I love you." We hung up, and any thought of sex for one tonight fled my mind. I kept seeing my sweet Scully bent over an autopsy table, exhausted, her shoulders hunched, her back in spasms, her head pounding, slicing into somebody's grandma. All I wanted to do was make her feel better. FBI Headquarters Office of Special Agent Fox Mulder Tuesday, February 22, 2000 3:49 p.m. I spent the day taking care of paperwork -- something I usually leave for Scully, because she's so much better at it, more thorough than me. But I didn't want her to come back to the office after doing a dozen autopsies in three days to find that all I've done is throw pencils at the ceiling, so I did paperwork. I also fielded a call from ISU, a Special Agent Carrie Parker, who was the ASAC on Scully's case. I knew she suggested Parker call me, because Parker didn't seem the least bit interested in having Spooky Mulder consult on her case. I decided to fuck with her head a little, suggested premature aging as an element of the crimes -- Parker just sighed and said she'd send the files over. Scully called ten minutes later. "What happened to the garden-variety psycho who hated his grandmother?" "Didn't I tell you? He kills with premature aging." I could almost hear her smile and shake her head. "Scully, you don't have to drum up work for me." "I know, but it just didn't seem right to me that the FBI's best profiler was throwing pencils at the ceiling while there's a serial killer to be tracked." I glanced up as a pencil fell. "I'm not throwing pencils, I'm doing paperwork." She didn't say anything. "Scully?" "Who are you and what have you done with my partner?" I've heard it before, but I laughed anyway. She sounded better today. "Still up for dinner tonight?" "Absolutely. I've got one more autopsy to do, then I need to wait for some lab results. I should be home by eight." "I'll be waiting, whenever you get there." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Thank you, Mulder. I really..." "Just taking care of my partner. See you tonight." We hung up, and I hurried through the rest of the paperwork. Then I finalized my plans for *after* dinner. Scully has a secret indulgence. She knows I know about her penchant for long, hot baths with fragrant oils, soft music and good wine. But there's something else that she doesn't know I know about. Massages. A couple of times a month. I found out nearly a year ago, totally by accident. I was looking for something on her desk and glanced at her appointment book -- and there it was, in blue and white. "Eric, 6:00, 555-0299." My first thought was, of course, oh god she's leaving me. My second thought was, also of course, who the hell is Eric? So, rather than just call the phone number and demand to know who the hell Eric was and what he was doing with my Scully at 6:00, I checked my criss-cross directory. Seemed that Eric worked for the Haven Day Spa. I called then, played the 'just doing a background check, nothing to be concerned about' game, and found out that Eric was a massage therapist. I had to check out this guy who was touching Scully in places I hadn't yet been allowed to touch, but I wasn't sure exactly how to go about it. The last time I'd gotten a massage was in college, from a girl named Jolene who was hot for me. I eventually decided just to be straightforward about it -- I went to the spa a few days later and talked to Eric. I introduced myself as her friend, not as her partner, and told him I was concerned about her health. He was open and forthcoming, said she was fine, but that her job was very stressful and she came in to relax. I felt like such an idiot -- of *course* her job was stressful. In the last year or two, she'd been shot, there was the whole colonization thing and what happened with Diana, we survived both Stepfordville and a hurricane, she was stalked and nearly killed by my wacko next-door neighbor... then I went slightly insane for a while and I... I'm not certain how that affected her, apart from what I read in her journal. Yeah, I'd say her job was stressful. Her life in general was stressful. In her shoes, I'd have a massage every day. Eric promised not to say anything to her about my visit. He did, however, ask me about *my* job -- said I looked a little tense, he had a free half-hour. I politely declined, but we've stayed on good terms. So, in planning how to make Scully feel better, the first person I thought of was Eric. Dana Scully's Apartment Tuesday, February 22, 2000 7:52 p.m. I left the office early again, partly because I was still lonely and bored, partly to get things set up at Scully's. I was surprised when I let myself in -- she'd apparently overslept, because the bed was unmade. Even after our most ardent, active nights, Scully always made the bed before we left for the day. She'd also left her coffee mug on the kitchen counter, hadn't dumped out the rest or thrown the grounds away. Her hair dryer was still on the vanity in the bathroom, the towel she'd used in the shower was on the floor. All this was par for the course at my place, but Scully... Scully is nothing if not tidy. So I emptied the coffee maker, put her mug in the dishwasher, changed the sheets and cleaned up the bathroom. I made dinner -- pasta salad with chicken, which would keep in the fridge -- and chilled a bottle of Chardonnay. Then I set up the massage table I'd borrowed from Eric. Since I'm not a trained massage therapist, he'd suggested some web sites where I could do a little research before I tried this. He even gave me a few pointers about how she liked to be touched... *very* weird, hearing that stuff from another guy. So. Candles lit. Music playing softly. Fire blazing. Dinner in the fridge. Massage table set up in the living room. She'd called about 7:30 to say she was on her way, so I poured myself a glass of wine and settled in to wait for her. I rifled through the magazines on the coffee table -- not what I expected to find. Yes, the latest issue of 'JAMA' was there -- but so was the latest issue of 'In Style.' 'Women's Health' sat next to 'Marie Claire.' I picked up the copy of 'In Style' and thumbed through it -- fashion, stuff about celebrities, decorating tips, travel information... There was a Post-It stuck on a page about a bed-and-breakfast near Santa Barbara, California. 'Marie Claire' had hair and makeup advice, and there was a piece about at-home bikini waxing that just made me cringe. Scully had also marked an article about ordinary women who lead extraordinary lives. I looked around the room then. Took in the carefully coordinated furniture. The scented candles placed just so. The framed pictures of her family arranged on the wall. The embroidered cloth on the table behind the sofa. The dishes, silver, glassware in the kitchen, the towels in the bathroom -- everything matched. And it hit me. My Scully is much more than the sum of her parts. FBI agent. Pathologist. Doctor. Cancer survivor. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Partner. Lover. I knew all that. What I just got was that she was, first and foremost, a Woman. Yes, I knew that too -- but what occurred to me then was that she was a capital-W Woman, with all the complicated shit that entailed. She's soft and vulnerable and strong and capable... and I want to know every facet of the Woman that is Dana Scully. I heard her key in the lock just then and set my wine glass down. Her face brightened when she saw me, which made my heart soar. I went to her, took her briefcase and laptop and coat, set them all down and gathered her into my arms. I hugged her tight, kissed her temple and stroked her hair. Her arms went around my waist and she held on to me. After a moment I felt her shudder, and I knew she was crying. Scully didn't like to cry in front of me -- she thought it made her seem weak, but I could never see her that way. I tightened our embrace, felt tears well up in my own eyes. She was crying for the dead -- I was crying for her. She pulled back a little, looked up at me. "Hey..." I cupped her face in my hands, wiped away her tears as she reached up to wipe away mine. "Hey." "You okay?" That's so Scully. She's worried about *me*. "Are you?" She nodded, smiled. "I am now. I've missed this. Holding you, being held by you." "I've missed you, too." I kissed her, softly, gently. Then I released her, picked up her stuff and moved to put it away. She looked around the room then, saw the low lights and candles... and the massage table. "Mulder? What's going on?" "Like I said, just taking care of my partner." She cocked an eyebrow. "And yes, I know you're fully capable of taking care of yourself. I just want to make you feel better." Her mouth twitched in a slight grin. "So what's on the agenda?" "First, dinner. Then a nice hot bath, then a massage, then bed." "All with you, I hope." "Of course. Now you go slip into something more comfortable..." "Mulder, are you coming on to me?" "Oddly enough, no." I smiled, kissed her again. "There's a sweater and jeans on the bed. Go change, I'll pour you some wine." She went into the bedroom, I went into the kitchen. I got dinner out of the fridge and she joined me once she'd changed. "Mulder... you cleaned. You even changed the sheets." I couldn't tell from her tone if she was pissed or not -- although I couldn't figure out why she might be pissed that I'd cleaned. "Yes, I did. You've been working very hard, I didn't want you to have to clean too." She came to me, slipped her arms around me. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" A trick question, this. I could be self-deprecating, which would give her those little frown lines between her eyes. Or I could be self-pitying, which would definitely piss her off. Or I could be funny, which may or may not cheer her up. Or I could just... be. I held her tight and ran my fingers through her hair, then tipped her face up and kissed her again. She held the kiss, and her tongue lightly traced along my bottom lip -- Scully's got this thing about my bottom lip. I opened my mouth and drew her in, tasting her minty toothpaste along with Essence of Scully as our tongues explored each other's mouths. She pressed her body against mine, and my need to make love with her waged an intense battle with my need to take care of her. Finally I gently pushed her away, resting my forehead against hers. "God, Mulder... can't we skip all the preliminary steps and just go to bed?" "Much as I'd like that, Scully... your shoulders are up around your ears and your stomach's growling. I think you need the preliminary steps." She whimpered a little -- a sound that two weeks ago I'd have sworn I'd never hear from Dana Scully -- then nodded. I seated her, poured her some wine and served dinner. She dug in like she hadn't eaten in days -- given how hard she'd been working, that was possible. "Mulder, this is wonderful. Where'd you get it?" "Where'd I *get* it?" I put on an indignant face. "I *made* it." "You did not." "Scully, you wound me. I can cook. I even *like* to cook. I just don't do it very often. Not much point in cooking for one." She looked at me curiously. "I learn something new about my partner every day." "I like to keep you guessing." I winked and gave her hand a squeeze, and we got down to the business of dinner. We also talked a little about her case -- given who we are, we couldn't completely avoid work. "There were fifty-two bodies, all of them older women." "Originally buried in the vacant lot, or moved there later?" "No indication they'd been moved." "How long had they been there?" "Some only a few weeks, others for months. The one buried the longest had been there for nearly a year." "That'll be when the stressor occurred. The first victim may well be the killer's own mother or grandmother." She nodded. "That's what Agent Parker thinks, too." She glanced up at me. "Mulder... play nice with her, okay? Please?" "She a friend?" "I think she could be." I knew Scully didn't have many friends in the Bureau -- an unfortunate consequence of being known as Mrs. Spooky. I also knew she wouldn't be comfortable being friends with Carrie Parker unless Parker and I could be friends -- or at least share a mutual respect. I wondered for a moment if she'd also asked Parker to play nice with me -- there was a somewhat conciliatory note attached to the files she'd sent over. I took her hand, kissed it. "For you, Scully... I'd even play nice with Tom Colton." She laughed, shook her head. "Mulder, if you had to be in the same room with Tom Colton for more than five minutes, you'd implode." "Didn't say I'd come out alive." We shared another smile and fell silent. I could tell something else was on her mind, though. After a moment, I forged ahead. "Scully?" She didn't look up, didn't speak right away. "Mulder... last week at the office..." "Wasn't easy, was it?" She sighed. "Partner, you have a gift for understatement." She looked at me then, and I could see the longing in her eyes. "Every day was a struggle between my libido and my brain. Sometimes it was all I could do to keep from locking us in the office and..." "I know." I squeezed her hand again, she sighed again. "Mulder, how did this happen? For seven years we didn't acknowledge... *anything*. And after just a weekend, I couldn't keep my hands off you." "It was a pretty intense weekend, Scully." She blushed -- she's beautiful when she blushes. I twined my fingers with hers. "What are we going to do, Mulder?" "Maybe it'll get easier when the newness wears off." "You don't honestly believe that, do you? I can't imagine making love with you could ever be anything other than... exciting." She looked at me, her eyes smoldering. "Thrilling." She brought my hand to her lips, turned my palm up, kissed it. "Intoxicating." She flicked her tongue lightly against the middle of my palm, then traced the lines there with just the tip. I wasn't exactly sure why, but this was incredibly arousing. "Scully..." "You think maybe... when we're busier... when we're working on an X-file..." She laid her tongue flat against my palm, then applied a bit of suction... god, what was she doing to me? "I think... yeah... there's a... a case we might..." She finally turned my hand over and kissed my knuckles, a big Cheshire-Cat grin on her face. I shivered. "Dana Scully, you are a wicked, wicked woman." "And you love me for it." "Yes, I do." I couldn't help myself. I leaned in and kissed her, devoured her. It took every ounce of self-control I could summon to stop myself from sweeping the dishes to the floor and taking her there on the dining table. But it'd been so long -- god, three days now equals 'so long' -- I wanted to make it special, for both of us. It wasn't easy, but I broke the kiss. Her lips found their way to my ear and she licked my earlobe. Fuck -- I thought *I* was the one with an oral fixation. "Sure you don't want to skip the warm-up?" "No... yes..." I swallowed hard, brought my hands to her shoulders, kneaded the tight muscles there. I pushed her back a little, tried to steady my breathing. "Mulder, you've got a lot more willpower than I do." "You have no idea." We finished dinner, staring at each other and holding hands. That was safer than talking. One of the many things I'd discovered about Scully now that we were lovers was how verbal she could be. She still had trouble expressing her emotions -- that's why she wrote the love letter in the first place, although she was getting better at actually *saying* 'I love you' -- but when it came to sex, Scully was *very* verbal. She had no problem telling me exactly what she wanted in bed, even though we were really in tune and neither of us needed much direction. I'd always suspected that behind the cool, sometimes frosty image she projected, Scully would be very sensual -- but I was in no way prepared for the sexual firebrand she is. Maybe I'd expected some Catholic Girl reserve to have lingered, but there was absolutely nothing reserved about the way Scully made love. After the dishes were cleared and more wine poured, I led her into the bathroom and asked her to choose which oil to use in her bath. She picked two, then held them out to me. "Which do you like best?" I inhaled both deeply -- one was vaguely floral, the other sort of a spicy, woodsy scent. I chose the spicy one. She cocked an eyebrow. "You used this one in Arcadia." Our one and only real undercover assignment. Rob and Laura Petrie, like the dish. Several days that were simultaneously the most difficult and most exciting time I've ever spent with her. Exciting because... hell, because I got to be close to her, to live in the same house with her, even if it was work and we were just pretending. Difficult because of what we'd just been through -- Diana, mostly. Scully still hasn't asked me about her -- when we'd talked about our fears, about her fear that I'd fall in love with somebody else, she'd talked about anybody *but* Diana. She blushed again at the mention of Arcadia -- god, I loved to make her do that -- but I couldn't tell if her memories of the experience were remotely pleasant. At the time, I was certain she didn't want me near her ever again. Scent is such a powerful emotional trigger -- maybe using the same bath oil now, now that we're closer, could change her memories of that time. I shooed her off to the bedroom to get undressed while I lit some candles and ran her bath -- hot but not too hot, she instructed -- and when she came back wearing nothing but her fluffy robe, she snuggled up close to me. "You getting in the tub with me?" I bit my lip as she opened her robe and pressed her hot, naked body against me. She kissed my cheek and I gave my head a little shake. "I'll wash your back." "Mulderrrr..." God, the way she dragged out that last syllable... it was almost a growl, the way she said it. I took her by the shoulders, looked into her eyes. "Scully... tonight is about *you*. Just you. I want... Please, just let me do this for you." She stared at me a moment, then brought her hands to my face. She smiled. There was so much love in her eyes, her smile. She kissed my cheek again. "I'm sorry, baby. You're doing something really sweet and thoughtful for me and I'm all over you." She reached up and kissed my lips, nipping a little at the bottom one. "Thank you." "You're welcome. Now get in the tub before I lose what little control I have left." She laughed a bit at that, then dropped her robe and took my hand so I could help her into the tub. She turned back to me and tugged at my sweatshirt. "If you're going to wash my back, you'd better take this off. Wouldn't want it to get all wet." That little Cheshire-Cat grin was back. I shook my head and pulled off my sweatshirt as she settled in the tub with a satisfied sigh. "Not too hot?" "Perfect." She stretched out in the tub, resting her neck on the edge and closing her eyes. I was mesmerized by the way her breasts bobbed in the water as she breathed. After a long moment, she lifted an arm and reached toward a basket mounted on the wall just out of her reach. "Sponge." I glanced at the collection of stuff there -- mesh puffs, bottles of creamy things, a loofah on a handle... "Which one?" Her eyes were still closed, her hand still extended. "Dark yellow, natural, like from the ocean. About the size of my hand." I found it, underneath a plastic bag full of crystals and a tube of something, and pulled it out. "Anything else? Some of this creamy gel stuff?" "It's called body wash, Mulder." She took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the bath oil. My eyes found her breasts again. Scully has incredible breasts -- just the right size and shape, with delicate nipples that are amazingly sensitive. I think she thinks they're too small, but to me they're perfect. Seeing them naked like this was arousing enough -- what she doesn't know yet is that I really get off on seeing her in lingerie. Yeah, yeah, Typical Guy -- but I'd spent so much time picturing what might be underneath her Special Agent Suits... Our first time together she was wearing a dark blue bra and matching bikini panties, both very lacy and sheer. Christ, I almost came just looking at her. Her mouth quirked in a tiny grin. "Mulder, are you staring at my breasts?" I licked my lips. "Uh-huh." The tiny grin became a smile and she inhaled again. The smile broadened when I groaned. "Like what you see?" I exhaled, took in the rest of her body. Strong and supple, soft and curvy. My gaze hiccuped at the scar on her abdomen -- I will never get used to seeing that -- then continued down to the dark auburn thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs. I glanced up at her face again -- her eyes were still closed, she was still smiling. She'd taken off her makeup earlier, and in the candlelight I could just make out the little beauty spot over her lip. My god, this woman is stunning. "Oh, yeah." She chuckled, pointed to the basket again. "There should be a tube of vanilla gel, and a bottle of, um... I don't know, it says sandalwood on the label." I dug through the bottles and puffs in the basket and found what she wanted. "Got 'em." "Open them and tell me which one you like best." I didn't recognize either scent from before, but the sandalwood blended with the fragrance of the bath oil, so I handed her that bottle and the sponge. Our fingers touched as she took them from me and I shivered. She opened her eyes then, looked me up and down, pausing briefly at the growing bulge in my jeans. She held on to my fingers, tugged a little. "Get down here." I dropped to my knees next to the tub, my eyes never leaving hers. I folded my arms on the edge of the tub and rested my chin there, watching her. She squeezed the sponge in the water, filling it, then let the water run over her body. She put some of the sandalwood body wash on the sponge and lathered it up, then lifted her foot from the water and set it on the edge of the tub next to the faucet. She held the soapy sponge out to me and I took it. I ran the sponge lightly up her leg, over her foot. The other foot came up and settled on the other side of the faucet. I sponged it too, and her knees fell open under my touch. Her eyes drifted closed as I washed her feet, her calves, her thighs. Her breath quickened and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. My fingers circled her wrist and I shifted on the floor to get closer, then I lifted her arm and squeezed the fragrant bubbles from her shoulder to her fingertips. A contented sigh escaped her lips as I reached across her to lift her other arm. I moved again, positioning myself behind her head, still touching her. I dipped the sponge and squeezed it, letting the water and the lather run over her shoulders. I brought up my other hand and spread the creamy foam over her chest, letting my fingers smooth over the tops of her breasts. She moaned softly and arched her back a little, and I smiled. The way she responded to my touch, however light, thrilled me. I let my fingers drift a bit lower, stopping just above her nipples. She moaned again and breathed in, her breasts rising up to meet my hands. I got close to her ear, whispered to her. "You're so beautiful, Scully..." "Mulder... touch me..." Her nipples were already taut, even in the hot water. She arched her back more and I circled them, pinched them, rolled them. Her eyelids fluttered, but her eyes stayed closed and she breathed my name. Then she brought her hands up to cover mine and together we squeezed her breasts, both of us moaning. Her touch wasn't as gentle as mine -- she ran our hands roughly over her nipples and pinched them hard, then squeezed again. My own breath grew ragged, matching hers. She lifted my right hand from her breast, brought my left to take its place and put her own left hand on her left breast. I matched her movements, her touches, kneading and caressing. Then she guided my right hand further down, toward the dark vee between her legs. My right hand beneath hers, together we stroked her swollen folds. We both cried out when she pushed my middle finger inside her. She kept her hand on top of mine as I slid in deeper. She thrust her hips against our hands, gasping as my palm came into contact with her clit. I put gentle pressure there, rubbing small circles with the heel of my hand. I had to lean against the tub to reach her, the tile cool against my erection. Scully's voice was rough and she murmured my name. I closed my eyes and brought my lips to her ear, kissed it, tongued it, bit her earlobe... We set a rhythm, her inner walls pulsing around me. Her hand left mine as I slipped another finger inside her, moving in and out of her as her hips rose to meet me and water splashed onto the floor. Then I felt her hand move *beneath* mine, and her fingers began to stroke her clit as mine continued to thrust into her. "Fuck... Scully..." "Harder... faster, please, Mulder..." I did as she asked, as she needed. We were both breathing hard, both still kneading her breasts, both still thrusting and stroking. Suddenly her hips jerked, breaking our rhythm -- I felt her body go rigid, her walls contract. I held onto her as my head dropped forward and I bit her shoulder -- she threw her head back against me and my name echoed off the tiles... After a long moment, she turned her face toward mine. We shared a soft kiss and I felt her smile. "God, that's so much better with you here." I opened my eyes then and looked at her -- eyes closed, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, her tongue darting out to lick her lips... Did she say what I thought she said? She glanced up at me through her lashes, reading the question in my eyes, a faint smile playing at her lips. Her hand nudged mine and I withdrew from her. She laced our fingers together in the water, then her left hand brought mine to her mouth and she kissed it. "For years, Mulder... with visions of you in my mind." Our eyes met, and I leaned in to kiss that sweet mouth. "You fantasized about me?" "Touching me. Kissing me. Tasting me. Your mouth on my breasts. Your cock deep inside me." I shivered, kissed her again, deeper. "Now... now I don't have to imagine... I just close my eyes and remember." She kissed me this time, biting my lower lip, drawing my tongue into her mouth. "You do it too. You were doing it last night when I called." I blinked at her, surprised that she knew. She laughed a little. "I could tell that wasn't your usual 'tripped over my sneakers' brand of heavy breathing." I laughed a little too then, glanced away from her. She kissed my hand again. "Next time, Mulder... let me talk you through it." Phone sex. Scully was suggesting we have phone sex. I was more than a little stunned at that. She just laughed again and kissed me, her tongue claiming my mouth. When we parted I shook my head. "I learn something new about my partner every day." "Gotta keep you guessing." She smiled, her eyes and voice soft. "Water's getting cold." I untangled my hands from hers and stood up, my knees popping loudly. Scully had the good grace not to laugh at that -- she just watched as I pulled the stopper and offered her my hand. She stood and got out of the tub, and I wrapped her in a big velvety towel. She moved close to me -- I gasped when her wet body came into contact with my still-raging hard-on. I took a step back but she followed, pulling me to her. "Scully..." "Got a little problem there, Mulder?" The towel fell from her body as she ground her pelvis against me. "Hmm... not so little..." I backed up again, bumping into the sink. She ran her hands, her nails over my bare chest. She kissed my throat, licked her way down to my nipples. Her tongue circled one, sucked on it, her fingers playing over the other one. My eyes slammed shut, I licked my suddenly dry lips, I whimpered. God help me, I whimpered. "I know, I know. Tonight's about me... about what I want." Her hand drifted lower, her perfectly manicured nails tracing along the length of my cock through the rough denim. "What I want, Mulder... I want this." I let out a low moan as she squeezed gently. "Scully..." "Mulder, look at me." I forced my eyes open and gazed into hers. There was a raw hunger there I've never seen before. She began to unbutton my jeans, smiling a little as she worked the button fly. "Here's what I want, Mulder..." She slid my jeans off my hips and down, kneading my ass as she did. "What do you want, Scully?" My whisper was ragged, betraying the desire I'd tried so desperately to hold in check. She brought a hand around and stroked me through the silk of my boxers. She slipped her fingers inside the elastic at my waist and slowly eased my shorts down. Her eyes held mine, and her lips curved in a smile. "I want to suck your cock. I want you to come in my mouth." Jesus. Two weeks ago I would've sworn Scully didn't know words like that. Her hands resting at my waist, she kissed me lightly on the lips, then along my jaw, then down my throat to my chest. She delicately trailed her tongue around my nipples, down my stomach. Her tongue flicked at my navel and she covered it with her mouth, sucking slightly. Then her tongue and lips traced a line from my navel to my groin. I shuddered and held on to the vanity behind me, struggling to keep my hips still. God damn, she hadn't even touched my dick yet. Finally, finally... she was on her knees in front of me, her hands at my hips, on my thighs... then she reached for me. She wrapped one hand around the base of my shaft, wrapped her lips around the head. Dear god in heaven, I think I passed out for a minute. I gripped the vanity until my knuckles were white, fighting the urge to touch her, to bury my fingers in her silky hair -- I knew if I did, I'd have to push her away and fuck her on the bathroom floor. I didn't want to do that -- I wanted to make love to her in her big soft bed -- but oh jesus what she was doing to me... Her lips were a soft cushion surrounding my sensitive flesh. Her teeth nipped lightly, very very lightly, along the full length of my erection. Her tongue swirled up and down, around and around, delicate and bold at the same time. Her hands pumped me, fondled my balls, squeezed when necessary to prolong the experience. In this act, Scully had complete and utter power over me. She knew it. I knew it. And we both surrendered ourselves to that power. In this moment, she owned me. I fought a losing battle to keep my hips still, and I gently thrust toward her. She adjusted instinctively, altering her angle slightly and increasing the suction. Fuck, I was close... "Scully... tighter..." Her hand tightened around me as she stroked and pumped and her tongue caressed and her cheeks hollowed as she sucked and the pressure was so so so exquisite... I was breathing hard, my hands flexing, my hips thrusting, my legs shaking, my eyes shut tight, my teeth clenched, then... oh god then... She went completely still when I came -- pulsing, gushing into her mouth, whispering her name... As I came back to myself, my eyes opened a little -- she was sitting back on her heels, watching me. The flickering candlelight made it difficult to read her expression, but I know I saw love in her eyes. That Scully loves me still amazes me. Then she murmured so softly I almost didn't hear her. "My God you're beautiful..." I let out a breathy chuckle -- about all I was capable of. I started to deflect her comment, but there was something in her eyes... Then it occurred to me -- that's how she sees me. Beautiful. I've always thought of myself as rather goofy-looking. My nose is too big. My eyes are too small. My bottom lip is too full, my top lip too thin. I've got that stupid little mole on my cheek. The hair stylists I go to seem to think that short and spiky is a good look for me. My chest isn't hairy enough and what's there is starting to go gray. My midsection is beginning to spread. I do have a nice butt, and running keeps my legs in shape -- but my feet are funny and, let's be honest, male genitalia are silly looking at best, especially in the flaccid state. But Scully -- the only woman, the only *person* in the world whose opinion matters a damn -- Scully sat at my feet looking up at me as if I were Michelangelo's 'David' or Da Vinci's 'Vitruvian Man' come to life. It was humbling. And it made me realize, if I hadn't before, just how much I love this woman -- and how much she loves me. I reached out to her. She took my hands and got to her feet. I pulled her close and kissed her, caressed her. She shivered, and I held her tighter. "You're gonna catch a chill." "Don't care." I leaned down and snagged the towel she'd dropped, wrapped her up in it again. I rubbed her arms, her back, her ass through the towel -- she laughed, snuggled close to me. I breathed in the scent of her bath oil, her body wash... her body... It was intoxicating. "Why don't you get ready for your massage?" She looked up at me, surprised. "Mulder..." "We've got the table, might as well use it." She smiled, shook her head. "You... I do love you, you know." "Yeah, I've heard that once or twice." She laughed softly, kissed my throat. I pushed her back a little, pulled the towel a little tighter around her. "Go on. Face down, under the sheet. I'll join you in a minute." She reached up and stroked my face, ran her fingers over my lips. I kissed them and she left the room. I exhaled deeply, glanced down at my jeans and shorts bunched around my ankles. I gave up and kicked them off, went into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, then headed for the living room. The towel discarded on the floor, she was positioned as I'd asked -- lying on her stomach, the sheet pulled up over her hips, her face nestled in the face cradle. Since I was barefoot I knew she hadn't heard me come in, so I spoke softly. "Comfortable?" "Mm-hm." I pulled the sheet up to her neck and laid my palms flat on her shoulder blades, on top of the sheet. I pushed gently and she exhaled -- good, that's what's supposed to happen. I changed the CD to something more relaxing than romantic, then I folded the sheet back to just below her waist. I rubbed some massage lotion in my hands then held them just above her back -- Eric said this was to facilitate the flow of energy between us. I had a flash of memory -- Melissa and me standing next to Scully's hospital bed, our hands hovering over her comatose body, Melissa swearing that I could feel her life force if I would only let myself, if I wasn't in such a dark, angry place. I shook the memory off, concentrated on the woman here with me now -- strong and healthy, full of life and passion and love. What I'd read about Swedish massage said to use long, smooth strokes toward the heart -- I started at her shoulders and neck, kneading the tight muscles with my thumbs and fingers. Moving down her back, I used my palms and the heel of my hands to smooth out the knots. I trailed down her spine with my knuckles until I reached her waist -- at Eric's suggestion, I spent a lot of time there. He said she carried a lot of tension in her waist -- as I worked there, I understood what he meant. There was very little play in those muscles, and I tried to loosen them as best I could. My eyes drifted to the slightly shiny patch of skin just below her waist -- where she had the tattoo removed. I never saw it, she never mentioned it. Never mentioned what had happened. Yes, more pressing matters came up shortly after that -- her cancer was diagnosed, for one. But I never really understood what the whole thing was about, what I had done to make her so unhappy. Except... she'd said not everything is about me. Maybe this was something we should talk about. Maybe it was something we should just leave alone. I forced my thoughts back to her body, how it responded under my hands. I could feel her relaxing as I worked, could hear it in the satisfied sighs and groans and grunts she made. I went from her back to her arms and hands, then drew the sheet up and moved on to her legs. When I decided to do this for her, I knew I had to see her as Eric saw her -- as a collection of parts. Beautiful, sexy parts, yes -- but parts just the same. So, even though I'd had the great pleasure of seeing and touching her naked body on several recent occasions, I kept her draped as I worked. Something occurred to me as I massaged her hips, her thighs, her calves -- what I was doing here was the opposite of what I wanted to do in our relationship. I wanted to understand and blend together everything she is, every facet of her. Reflexologists theorized that every area of the body is consolidated in the nerves of the feet -- I decided then to save her feet for last. When I finished with her legs I covered them again and laid my palms on the soles of her feet, over the sheet. Then I moved my hands up her legs, her hips, her back, to her shoulders. I bent down close to her ear and whispered. "Ready to turn over?" She gave a contented little sigh that sounded vaguely like 'um- hm,' so I lifted the sheet just enough for her to scoot down and roll over. I draped her again and removed the face cradle, then placed an eye pillow over her eyes. She smiled at that, which for some reason made me inordinately happy. I started again at her neck, her shoulders, her upper back, her chest. I spent a lot of time on her arms and hands -- holding the tools of her trade sometimes made her hands cramp. I felt the delicate bones moving under my fingers and she sighed again. The immense satisfaction I got from doing this for her was overwhelming. Then I arrived at my final destination. Scully's feet. Her feet are beautiful, perfectly tapered. She'd taken to polishing her toenails lately -- she rarely wore anything but clear polish on her fingernails, but she was bold in her color selection for her toes. The last time we'd been together, they were a pale lavender -- tonight they were deep red. I traced the fine blue veins along the tops of her feet, lightly touched the clefts between her toes -- her feet twitched, and I glanced up at her face. "Didn't know you were ticklish." "Just a little." Her voice was soft, sleepy... relaxed. I laid my hands gently on top of her feet. "I'll be careful." "'S okay, baby." I smiled. I loved it when she called me 'baby.' From anyone else it might be insulting. Scully's use of the word made me feel cherished. My hands encircled her ankles, then I put both of them on her right foot. My fingers rubbed up and down her Achilles tendon, then down to her heel, then I repeated my actions on her left foot. I'm not a reflexologist, and I knew better than to try to do that kind of intense work on her without proper training. I also knew that soothing strokes and gentle pressure in the right zones would help her. And I knew the zones I wanted to affect. I started with her heels, shifting from one to the other -- they were the key to her lower back, hips and legs. Then I rubbed her arches with my thumbs -- the arch was connected to her waistline. I spent a little more time there, as I had before, and she exhaled deeply. I ran my thumbs further up the inner sides of her feet -- her spine. Then skimmed over the balls of her feet to the outer area of the sole -- her arms and shoulders. The undersides of her toes -- her neck. I finished with long strokes toward the balls of her feet -- toward her heart. Drawing the sheet over her feet again, I covered them with my hands and closed my eyes. I felt her breathing, and I breathed in time with her. I felt the energy flowing between us and I smiled -- Melissa would be pleased. I moved my hands up her legs to her knees, her hips... there was a different energy there. I moved to her side and held my hands above her abdomen -- over the scar -- not touching her, just hovering there. I swear I felt our energy shift, change. I heard a sound -- a groan, a sob maybe -- and stole a glance at her face. She hadn't moved... and I realized the sound had come from me. I drew in a shaky breath. She removed the eye pillow from her face and slowly reached out her hand to me. One hand still above her body, I touched her fingers with the other, felt the connection between us... My eyes slipped shut and I heard her voice -- barely above a whisper, but clear and strong, emphasizing each word... "Not your fault." Shit. How did she do that? How could she take what I was trying to do for her and turn it around so that *she* was comforting *me*? *Why* did she do it? Was she so used to me being needy that it was automatic now? Fuck that. That's not what I wanted to happen. I had to get my emotions under control, to keep this about her. The hand that still hovered above her slowly dropped the few inches to her body -- my palm settled on her abdomen, and I felt the scar beneath the sheet, beneath my hand... our breathing in synch, our fingers entwined... our souls, too. Then she spoke again -- softly but firmly, the words filled with love. "Mulder, you... you have to forgive yourself. For all of it. Please. I've never blamed you for anything, you know that... but we can't move forward unless you forgive yourself. No guilt, remember? Please..." I felt hot tears spill down my cheeks. I felt her fingers tighten on mine. I felt the energy between us shift again. And then... the guilt was gone. I just let it go. There was no need to hold on to it anymore, no more need to punish myself. Scully accepted me, loved me as I am. In spite of everything. Maybe *because* of everything. I squeezed her fingers in gratitude, then wrapped mine around her wrists. I shifted my hands up her arms to her shoulders, moving to stand behind her head. I touched her neck, her ears. My fingertips kneaded her scalp, then traced her cheeks, her lips, her nose, her forehead, her eyelids. I cupped her face in my hands and leaned close to her, touching my lips to her eyes, her nose... her lips. Her eyes still closed, she gently kissed me back. "I love you, Scully." "And I love you." We stayed like that for a long moment, then I picked her up off the table, wrapped in the sheet that covered her. Her eyes came open just a bit and she smiled, planted a sweet kiss in the hollow of my throat. She slipped her hand behind my neck and snuggled against my chest as I carried her into the bedroom. Damn. I forgot to turn down the bed. She looked up at me when I stopped, then glanced over at the bed. "I'll do that. You go blow out the candles." I slowly set her on her feet, but she kept her hand at my neck. She pulled me close and kissed me gently, wiped away the remnants of my tears. "Hurry back." I moved through the living room, snuffing the candles and turning off the CD player. I stopped for a minute, looked around the room as I had done before she came home, and thought about her. About the different elements of her, and how to reconcile them, to combine them. The dedicated agent and the loving daughter and sister. One living a dangerous life, at risk of being hurt or killed on an almost daily basis. The other trying to make her family understand how important the work is to her, that choosing the path she chose didn't mean she loved or respected them any less. Both deeply committed to what's important to her. The skilled pathologist and the cancer survivor. One surrounded by death, working tirelessly to unravel its mysteries. The other celebrating life, reveling in the little blessings that come with just being alive. Both with a reverence for life and a healthy respect for death. The devoted partner and the passionate lover. One challenging me, forcing me to look harder for answers we both know won't come easy. Keeping me honest. Keeping me sane. The other soft and loving and demanding and selfish and giving and sweet... Knowing what she wants, what I want. Giving as good as she gets. Both fiercely loyal, intensely faithful -- to me. *Me*. Warts and all. Incredible. She was lying on her back under the covers, watching the door, waiting for me. She smiled as I came back into the room. "What took you so long?" I shrugged. "Just thinking." "'Bout what?" "You." She stared at me, trying to read me. I shook my head a little, smiled to let her know I was okay. She returned the smile, held out her hand to me. "Come to bed, Mulder." I took off my sweatpants and draped them over a chair, took her hand and slipped into bed next to her. She immediately nestled against me in what I'd learned was her favorite sleeping position -- her head on my shoulder, her hand over my heart. My arms went around her and I held her close, kissed her forehead. She sighed. She sounded happy. "Mulder..." "Hmm?" She leaned up, so she could look into my eyes. "Thank you for tonight. For everything. No one's ever done anything... taken care of me like this..." I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, caressed her cheek. "I like taking care of you." She placed a kiss on my palm and snuggled next to me again, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest and stomach. "You know, if you ever left the FBI you could have a second career as a massage therapist." I laughed quietly. "'Course, you'd need a little more training than just tips from Eric." Busted. "How'd you know?" I felt her smile against my shoulder. "Eric's the only therapist I've ever had who spends a lot of time on my waist." "You carry a lot of tension there." She didn't say anything for a minute, and I wondered if she was angry that I'd gone behind her back. Then she pressed her lips to my throat. "No, Mulder, I'm not mad." I breathed a sigh of relief, covered the small hand on my chest with my own. She went silent again -- I thought she'd fallen asleep -- then she spoke softly, almost shyly. "Mulder... they do couples massage at the spa. Big room, two tables... candles, aromatherapy... Do you think we could do that sometime?" She referred to us as a couple. She'd never done that before. Hell, neither had I. At restaurants, we were 'Mulder, party of two.' At the movies, we were 'two for "American Beauty," please.' That was as close as we came to being a couple. Until now. I nuzzled her hair, breathed in her scent. "I'd like that, Scully. I'd like that a lot." "Really?" "Um-hm." "Mulder, what are you doing?" "Smelling your hair." She laughed a little, shifted in my arms to look at me. "Why?" I studied her a moment. "I like the way your hair smells. Like lilacs on a cool spring night." I threaded my fingers through her hair, trailed them along her neck, her shoulders. "I like the way your skin feels. Like satin... velvet." She blinked at me, opened her mouth to speak, but I leaned in and kissed her softly. "I like the way you taste. Like fine wine." I kissed her again, my tongue teasing at her lips until her mouth opened beneath mine and she drew it inside. Our tongues caressed, explored. Every time we kissed like this, it was like the first time -- fresh and familiar at the same time, finding different sensations, discovering new reactions. Hungry, starving, we devoured each other. My hands traveled the length of her small body -- tickled her ribs, smoothed over her hips, stroked her thighs... Scully's hands weren't still -- she traced her nails down my chest, grazed my stomach, scratched my back... At almost the same time, we reached for each other, gauging our readiness. Then she gently pushed me onto my back and straddled me, my erection nudging her ass. I cupped her breasts, my thumbs teasing her nipples. She leaned into my touch, closing her eyes, whispering my name. Then she rose up and lowered herself onto me, sheathing me inside her. Then she stopped. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, and she slowly exhaled. She did this every time we made love -- when I was fully inside her, she stopped moving entirely for a moment. Even that Monday, Valentine's Day, when I fucked her against the living room wall. The first time I figured it might've had something to do with how long it had been for her, or my size relative to hers, and she was letting her body adjust. Now I knew that wasn't it, but I had no idea what it was. I wanted to know, wanted to ask her what was going on in her head at that moment -- but that's not something you ask the woman you love, not when she's just taken you into her body, filled herself up with you. So I said nothing. I just waited for her. But instead of starting to move, she whispered to me. "It's a miracle, you know... that we're here like this... that we've survived everything to get here..." She opened her eyes then, looked into mine. No -- she looked into my *soul*. And I could see into hers -- I saw the depth of what she felt for me, and I was overwhelmed by it. I could only hope she could see some fraction of how much I loved her too, because I sure as hell wouldn't be able to adequately communicate it to her. "What I know, Scully, is that I'm the luckiest man on the face of the earth... because you're in my life. You *are* my life." She smiled -- a beautiful, dazzling smile -- and reached out to touch my face. Jesus, I was crying again. She gently wiped away my tears and I kissed her fingertips. "And I thank God every day for you, Mulder... that you're mine." Then, slowly, she rose up along my shaft. I didn't move at all -- this moment was important to her, to both of us really, and I willingly gave control of it to her. She closed her eyes again as she took me inside her once more, and as she did she whispered... "Mine." She moved again, and this time I moved with her, my hips rising up to meet hers, and I whispered... "Yours." Her eyes opened then -- I saw the desire there, the need. The love. I whispered to her again... "And you're mine." "Oh yes, Mulder... yours..." We moved together, faster now, thrusting harder into each other. She leaned close, changing the angle, increasing the friction. I reached between us, circling her clit with my fingers. She tightened her inner walls around me, holding me inside her as we moved. Words of love and devotion and possession poured from our lips. Our eyes were locked together, and I saw her orgasm approaching there before I felt it in her body -- her eyelids fluttered, she began to quiver. Our rhythm faltered as my own climax built, my thrusts becoming erratic. Once, twice more, and on the third she was flying, and I was flying with her... Eventually she collapsed on top of me, spent. None too steady myself, I wrapped my arms around her, held onto her. After a moment she moved to get off me and I tightened the embrace. "Stay..." I felt her smile against my chest as she settled again. "Forever." I chuckled softly. "Don't know if I can manage 'forever,' but for a little while longer, okay?" "As long as you want, baby." I smiled, stroked her hair. She snuggled against my chest, against my heart. "I like this. Listening to your heartbeat." "So that's why you like to sleep like this." She turned her face to my chest, gently kissed the old bullet wound at my shoulder. "Reminds me you're here." Suddenly she leaned up. "Do you mind, Mulder? I mean... would you rather sleep in another position?" She slid off me then, curled her body against mine. "I just like sleeping with you, Scully. With my arms wrapped around you. I'll take that any way I can get it." Her eyes searched mine, but I couldn't tell what she was looking for. Finally she closed her eyes, shook her head a little. "Mulder... you spend so much time concentrating on pleasing me, you don't think about pleasing yourself." She opened her eyes again, and she put on a stern expression. "I want you to be a little selfish. To tell me what you want." "Scully..." "And I don't want to hear any of that 'I just want to make you happy' crap." I must've looked a little hurt, because her expression softened a bit. "Mulder, you... you're the most incredibly generous man. Tonight was proof of that. But I'd like to take care of you sometime, too." "You take care of me, Scully." "Only as much as you let me. As a doctor, I tend your wounds and soothe your aches and pains. As your partner, I support you and watch your back and kick a little ass when I have to. But even in that role, Mulder, there've been so many times when you've shut me out..." Because I love her. Because I'm a selfish bastard when it comes to the work. Because it was *my* work, my quest, and it had hurt her too much already. It was why her brother hated me. I shut her out to protect her. To try and keep her safe, to keep her from losing anything more because of me. I looked into her eyes then, but she looked away. "I'm sorry, I'm forgetting the Rule." No dwelling on the past. Nothing but love and passion in our bed. I turned her face back to me, smoothed away the little frown lines between her eyes. "Scully..." She leaned into me, kissed me softly, tenderly. "There are two of us in this relationship, Mulder. We both deserve to be taken care of. To be happy." My god, this woman... so loving, so giving. I stroked her face, trailed my thumbs over her lips. She didn't understand what she had done for me earlier, turning my concern around and making it hers. She had no idea how much she gave to me just by being with me. Loving me. Letting me love her. Yes, I focus on her. Her safety, her pleasure, her happiness. As narcissistic as I've been told I am, I don't know that I can be selfish in this. Despite letting go of the guilt, I don't know that I deserve to be happy. "I know what you want from me, Scully... I'm just not sure I can give it to you." "I know it's hard." She smiled then -- a broad smile, her eyes sparkling. "Gets easier the more you do it." I laughed, hearing my own words bounced back to me -- that's what I told her about saying 'I love you.' "Okay, then. Scoot over." I nudged her with my hip and rolled onto my side, pulling her close and kissing her. "That's all you want, Mulder? Not to sleep on the wet spot?" She nuzzled my neck, nipped at my earlobe. "I seem to recall you said something once about spooning up like little baby cats..." "And you responded by calling me Poopy-head." "Mulder, we were undercover." "What do you call this?" "A different kind of undercover." I smiled, moaned a little when her tongue flicked at that spot just under my jaw... I tilted her face up, kissed her deeply. When we ended the kiss... she yawned. "Oh God, Mulder, I'm sorry. I'm just so damn relaxed..." I stifled a laugh and held her close. "It's all your fault... you and your Magic Hands..." "I'll try not to be so good next time. Sleep, Scully." "Did you set the alarm?" "Fuck. No. Don't move." I rolled over to take care of it. "What time?" "Seven." I smiled a little. "Six." "Mulder, it's after midnight." "I know." I turned back to her, gathered her in my arms again. "But I want to make love to you at least once or twice before we have to go to work." "That's probably what gets us into trouble. We make love in the morning, then can't stop thinking about it the whole rest of the day." She shifted in my arms, turning onto her side, her back to me. I smiled and spooned up against her, wrapping my arms around her again. "We could play hooky. You put in a lot of overtime last weekend." "Can't. You have a profile to write. And I have to pull the pencils out of the ceiling and redo your paperwork. Besides, I miss our basement office." I kissed her shoulder, her neck. "I love you." "I love you, too." We settled in to sleep, then I glanced back at the clock. 12:28 a.m. Wednesday morning. I moved close to her ear. "Happy birthday, Scully." She shifted a little to look at me, a mixture of surprise and pleasure in her smile. "You didn't think I'd remember?" "Mulder, you remembered twelve days ago. In case you hadn't noticed, I've been wearing your earrings almost every day." "I noticed. I'm glad you like them." "I do. They're beautiful." She turned over again, drew my arms tighter around her. "I was kind of hoping for a repeat of last year's birthday present." I smiled, my lips on her shoulder, remembering. A dark, deserted baseball diamond. My arms wrapped around her, like now. Her hips nestled against mine, like now. Because I never thought I'd get the chance to do it for real, like now, it was mostly just an excuse to hold her -- on my part, anyway. And I think maybe on her part, too -- Scully was a tomboy, I'm sure she learned to play baseball at an early age. We both wanted so much more from each other, even then, but couldn't bring ourselves to ask for it. "What do you say, Fox Mantle? You up for a little batting practice?" I kissed the back of her neck, the tiny scar there, and we both shivered. "Oh, yeah." Did she realize that letting me 'teach' her to play baseball was letting her take care of me? That all I need to be happy is to hold her close? But I promised myself I'd try to be a little selfish in this -- to tell her what I want, what I need. Even if all I need is her. Then again... "Hey, Scully? Have I ever told you about my fantasies of making love to you on my big leather couch?" END TITLE: Conversation Hearts V: Woman's Intuition AUTHOR: Lara Means E-MAIL: darknesslight@aol.com CLASSIFICATION: SRA RATING: R (for language) ARCHIVE: Gossamer, NO; Spookys, NO (I'll submit directly to both); Ephemeral, YES; Xemplary, YES; anywhere else, YES, but if possible please let me know SPOILERS: LOTS. Specific (if sometimes vague) mentions of people and/or events in the Pilot, Squeeze, Lazarus, Young at Heart, Little Green Men, The Host, Ascension, One Breath, Anasazi, Grotesque, Terma, Redux II. SUMMARY: Mulder comes to terms with his 'spooky' reputation, with a little help from Scully and a new friend. DATE POSTED: 04/26/00 FEEDBACK: Encouraged and welcomed at darknesslight@aol.com DISCLAIMER: "The X-Files" is copyright Twentieth Century Fox Television and Ten Thirteen Productions. The show, its premise and characters were created by Chris Carter and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be realized. (I've also borrowed the name of a character from Carter's "Millennium" as a pseudonym. Same disclaimer applies.) AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is part of the Conversation Hearts series. You don't have to read the others to 'get' this one -- just know that Agent Parker and the case she's working are prominent in "Taking Care of My Partner." (see end notes) I have no idea if the position within the FBI that I've given Agent Parker actually exists. I don't think it really matters all that much; it served my purposes. Special thanks to Andrea for assuring me this little story doesn't suck and encouraging me to post it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ WOMAN'S INTUITION by Lara Means FBI Training Facility Quantico, Virginia Wednesday, February 23, 2000 In my ten-year career, I think I've been inside the J. Edgar Hoover Building maybe half a dozen times. Not a lot, when you consider it's FBI Headquarters and I work for the FBI -- but most of my career has been spent at Quantico. In addition to teaching at the Academy, my job with the ISU for the past few years has been as the Bureau's liaison to the various law enforcement agencies here in Virginia. If, say, the Virginia Beach police need the FBI's help with some rowdy kids on spring break, they call me and I decide if it's worth our time and effort. Last Saturday afternoon I was having lunch with Josh in one of those rare moments when he could actually take the time to eat -- he's an ER doc at Georgetown Memorial, and the hours are killer -- when my cell phone rang. It was the Richmond PD, a Detective Chandler, who told me they'd uncovered a mass grave in a vacant lot. Could the FBI help out with recovering, autopsying and identifying the bodies? I sent out a forensic excavation team, then called the head of pathology at Quantico. That's how I met Dana Scully. I'd heard stories about her, of course. How she was a gifted pathologist, could've been on the fast track to replace the guy who called her in on the case. Then Section Chief Blevins gave her an assignment, one that should've lasted six months at most but somehow became her life's work. After Blevins killed himself, the grapevine had it that he was dirty, and that speculation cast some doubt on a lot of the agents he had supervised or given assignments to. But Dana Scully -- there was never any doubt about her. Dana Scully was stand-up, even went to jail once to protect her partner. And she was a damn fine field agent, too -- she and her partner had an incredible solve rate, higher than any other division in the Bureau. No, what fueled the rumor mill about Dana Scully was her partner. Spooky Mulder. I'd heard stories about him, too. *Lots* of stories. I was a couple of classes behind him at the Academy, and the stories had already started. How he was this incredibly brilliant profiler, like nothing anybody had seen since Frank Black. That he had an uncanny ability to crawl inside the killer's mind. Criminal profiling isn't like that, not really. You go to a crime scene or read the reports and look at the photos, you study what the UNSUB left for you to study, then you extrapolate from that. Hell, Ressler and Douglas did most of the work for us years ago. But Spooky... Spooky went beyond Ressler and Douglas, beyond simplistic categorization. He really *did* get into the killer's head -- by the time he was done, sometimes he was even thinking the killer's thoughts. Bill Patterson latched onto him right away, recruited him to VCS straight out of the Academy. And that pissed the hell out of the rest of us, the agents like me who wanted to be profilers too. *We* had to go through all the prerequisites -- grunt work at a field office somewhere in America's Heartland (I got Memphis, which wasn't bad), then working our way up to become a profile coordinator someplace else (Albuquerque, which was just too fucking hot). Not Spooky. He went straight from Oxford to the Academy to his vaulted position as Patterson's Golden Boy. He was what the Bureau Boys Club refers to as a Blue Flamer -- means you've Got It, you're On Your Way. Female agents are rarely Blue Flamers -- the Boys Club figures we're all on the wife/mommy track, and in their opinion the two are incompatible. Dana Scully was probably the closest thing we female agents had to a Blue Flamer, before Blevins introduced her to Spooky. Spooky had some weird ideas, which is where lots of the later stories came from, after he left VCS. He'd stumbled across a bunch of case files that were outside the Bureau mainstream -- stuff about UFO sightings, alien abductions, monsters, conspiracies, that sort of thing. Spooky embraced the X-files, and got pretty good at solving those cases, however unorthodox his rationalizations were. That's why Blevins sent Dana Scully to him. With her hard-science background, she was supposed to debunk Spooky's work, to call into question those offbeat explanations -- essentially to humiliate him into going back to profiling full-time, to fulfilling everyone's expectations of him. What Blevins and whoever was pulling his strings didn't count on, though, was that *her* work actually *validated* his. They also didn't count on them becoming, shall we say, *close*. Male-female partnerships are always subject to rumor and innuendo -- I'm supposed to have slept with every guy I've ever been partnered with, even the married ones, even the gay ones. But with Dana and Spooky, it seemed pretty plausible. As partners, they were really dedicated to each other -- an offer to join VCS couldn't pry her out of the X-files, and there were stories of how they worked together surreptitiously even when the higher-ups officially closed the division and reassigned her to teach at Quantico. Hell, she even shot him once -- on purpose -- and *that* didn't split them up. What got the stories going in earnest was that time she was held hostage by an old boyfriend, an agent gone bad -- Spooky was beside himself with worry, a worry that appeared to some on the recovery team to be a bit more than simple concern for his partner's safety. But what threw the gossip-mongers into overdrive was how Spooky reacted when Dana went missing. She'd been kidnapped by an escaped prisoner, then she just disappeared -- and he went nuts. He was even suspected of killing the guy who took her, although that was later dropped. I know his AD was worried about his mental health, and I don't think he was alone in that. But when Dana was found, Spooky went even more crazy. Josh was interning at Northeast Georgetown Medical Center, where she was, and told me Spooky had to be dragged out of the hospital by security, ranting and raving like a lunatic. I also heard -- fourth-hand, so I don't know how accurate the information is -- that he tried to resign when it looked like she was going to die. She recovered, of course, and by all indications they went on just as they had before -- but the gossip train had already left the station. I actually saw them together once, not long after that thing with her ex-boyfriend. At Reggie Purdue's funeral. I think he and Spooky had been partners once upon a time -- I know Purdue was one of the few people in the Bureau who actually admitted to liking him. They'd been working a case with some similarities to one they'd worked before, one of Spooky's first. Purdue thought it was a copycat -- the guy was dead, had been dead for a few years -- but Spooky was convinced he either wasn't dead or had come back somehow. Sadly, Purdue paid the price for Spooky's weird ideas and was killed in the line of duty. The funeral was well-attended -- everybody liked Purdue -- but I think a lot of them went hoping for a chance to see Spooky and Dana together in the flesh. I know it was in the back of my mind, and I'm pretty damn ashamed of that now. I stood near the back of the crowd and just watched them together. I'd never seen him before, not even a picture, so I had no idea what to expect. He was tall, built, *very* good looking. Quite a shame that he was so damn weird, otherwise he'd have had women falling all over him -- *this* woman, anyway. But by that time the Spooky Legend was entrenched, and I didn't have the guts to brave those still waters. Besides, I'd just met Josh, and I couldn't ignore the way my mom's eyes lit up when I told her I was dating a doctor. During the service, Spooky stood like a statue near the front, an almost haunted look in his eyes. Dana stood next to him, just a tiny bit closer than might've been wise had either of them given a damn about appearances. At one point, Spooky looked like he might be about to crumble -- Dana leaned closer, put her hand on his arm and whispered something to him. Whatever she said seemed to work -- Spooky took a deep breath, she gave his arm a little squeeze and dropped her hand. He was okay after that. That was the last time I'd seen her, until this case. As much time as she seems to spend at Quantico, our paths never really crossed before -- probably because she spends all her time in the morgue, a place I steadfastly avoid if at all possible. I was glad the path chief had called her in on this -- she's a damn good pathologist -- but I wasn't prepared for her visit to my office on Tuesday. When she suggested I talk to Spooky. "You really think this is up his alley, Agent Scully?" Her eyes narrowed a little. "What I think, Agent Parker, is that Mulder is an exceptional profiler and you'd be lucky to have him consult. I also know that his case load is a bit light right now." I studied her for a minute, still trying, as I had from the moment I met her on Saturday, to determine if the rumors were or had ever been true. I mean, it was possible that they'd been lovers years ago and weren't anymore. But she's a cool customer -- all I saw when I looked at her was her legendary fierce loyalty to her partner. The thing was, though... I liked Dana Scully. Aside from her devotion to the X-files and Spooky, she was well thought of in the Bureau. People respected her. I was even hoping we could be friends -- after all, we female agents have to stick together. So, in the interest of potential friendship, I nodded. "I'll give him a call." The smile was fleeting and almost imperceptible, but I caught it anyway. And I wondered about them some more. Of course, my conversation with Spooky did nothing to dispel his reputation -- premature aging, indeed. Dana did her best to convince me he was kidding. "He doesn't really believe that, Agent Parker. Sometimes he... he likes to screw with people's heads, to feed into their expectations of him. Mulder has a very... unique sense of humor." She paused, bit her lip a little, then took a step closer to my desk. "Carrie... you know he's good at what he does." "I'm no slouch at profiling myself." "I know that. I just..." She broke off then, and I could see this war going on inside her -- she was trying to redeem him a little in my eyes, but she didn't want to plead a case for him because that would be unseemly. Finally, I stood. "You're right. He's very good at what he does. And I am lucky to get him. I told him I'd send the files over, we'll see what he comes up with." She smiled for real this time. "Thank you." She turned to go. "Dana." She paused at my office door. "Thanks for the suggestion." She nodded, I nodded, she left, I sat down and gathered the files to send to Spooky. As an afterthought, I wrote a note to go with them -- 'It was good talking with you today. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this.' An olive branch. From what I'd heard, Spooky wasn't exactly anti- social, just cautious about who he trusted. By all indications, he had reason to be cautious -- there were rumors about several agents who'd been connected with Spooky over the years. As far as I could tell, there are only two people in the FBI that Spooky Mulder trusts -- his AD and his partner. And I don't think he's entirely certain about his AD. Spooky and I talked again late Wednesday afternoon. I was surprised -- he'd finished his profile already, said he'd have everything messengered over the next day. I took a chance, told him I had to be in DC on Thursday anyway, I could just stop by his office and go over it with him. He hesitated. I waited, leaving the decision up to him. Finally he said, "Sure. What time?" "How's eleven-thirty? Then, if you and Dana don't have plans, I'd like to take you both to lunch. My way of saying thanks for all your help on the case." He went silent again. I could almost hear the wheels turning as he tried to figure out my angle. "I don't know, I'll check with Scully." Then he hung up. Okay. There's cautious, and there's Cautious. Spooky was definitely Cautious. FBI Headquarters, J. Edgar Hoover Building Office of Special Agent Fox Mulder Thursday, February 24, 2000 I clipped my ID badge to my collar, asked for them at the Hoover Building security desk, and was directed to take the elevator to the basement. Hmm. Among the Spooky Stories I'd heard was that he and Dana had buried themselves all alone in the basement -- the more lurid rumors held that it was to make it easier to carry on a sexual relationship away from prying eyes. I stepped out of the elevator and moved quietly among the storage boxes lining the walls. I was glad I'd worn my loafers -- not that I'd *intended* to eavesdrop... As I approached the lone office, I heard them. Not arguing exactly, because there was no anger in their voices -- but he was adamant. "Scully, you know I would do anything for you. Don't ask me to do this." "Mulder, what are you afraid of?" "You think I'm afraid of her?" "I think you're still a little afraid I'm going to leave you." My mouth fell open at that. His voice went really low and I almost missed what he said next. "No, Scully, not anymore, you know that..." "And I think you're afraid of getting out of the basement, even for a little while." "We get out of the basement all the time." "You know what I mean. Getting to know people, making friends, playing nice with the other kids. Mulder, you can't hide out down here forever." "Is this about my career? Scully, we both know I'll never make assistant director. What difference does it make where I do my time?" "It makes a difference because I believe in you. Because I care about you." Her voice got soft. "Please? For me?" I heard him sigh, and decided now would be a good time. I stepped forward and knocked on the open door. They were standing in the middle of the office, just a little too close together, and he took a small step backward when I knocked. "Am I early?" "Not at all," Dana said. She extended her hand and I shook it. "Good to see you again, Carrie." She turned to Spooky, who was staring at me with something akin to suspicion in his eyes. "Mulder, this is Carrie Parker. Carrie, Fox Mulder." I put out my hand and he took it somewhat reluctantly. "Agent Parker." So that's how it's going to be. "Agent Mulder. I've heard a lot about you." His eyes narrowed. "No doubt." Dana shot a glance at him, then at me. "From Dana, I mean. She thinks very highly of you." I smiled then. He didn't return it, but his hard eyes softened a bit and found hers. "She thinks highly of you, too." We sized each other up for another moment, then Dana broke the silence. "Well. Carrie. Please, have a seat." She motioned me to a chair in front of the big desk -- Spooky's desk, according to the name plate. He went behind it and she pulled up another chair, and I finally had a chance to check the place out. Overflowing file cabinets -- one even had a combination lock in it. Tabloid clippings and pictures of weird shit on the walls. A lone philodendron on the small desk -- hers apparently, although she didn't have a name plate. And the poster. A space ship, with 'I Want to Believe' written beneath it. Their office was just how I'd imagined it. They both noticed me looking around, and I grinned apologetically. "Sorry. It's just that I've heard a lot of stories..." The hard edge was back in his eyes. "Stories. What kind of stories, Agent Parker?" Dana let out a nervous laugh. "Mulder, I don't think we need to go into that right now..." "No, Scully. I'd like to know what kind of stories Agent Parker's heard." He looked at me, those eyes boring a hole through me. And at that moment, I felt like the World's Biggest Idiot. He was fully aware of his reputation, and he wasn't at all happy about it. "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, I didn't realize..." I glanced at Dana, tried to smile another apology. Spooky still looked like he wanted me dead. "Look, we've gotten off on the wrong foot here. Can I go out and come in again?" I felt like a specimen under a microscope, the way he was studying me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dana put her hand on his arm, much the way she'd done at Reggie Purdue's funeral. But this time, she left it there after Spooky relented. "No, Agent Parker, I..." He flashed a tiny smile at Dana. "Scully's always telling me I'm overly sensitive about... things." "Sensitivity's a rare thing in a man. I know it's one of my husband's best qualities." I shot them both a grin of my own, then got down to business. "So what have you got for me, Agent Mulder?" He handed me the files I'd sent, along with his profile. I opened his report and started to read. Within a paragraph, I knew this would have to be copied to my private file, where I kept the stuff that would eventually find its way into the book I'm going to write after I retire. Although the case itself wasn't remarkable, Spooky's profile was, in a word, fucking brilliant. As I read, he explained his rationale -- once the first victim is identified, look to her family, because the killer is probably her son or grandson. I'd pretty much come to the same conclusion, had inadvertently said as much to Dana -- but the way Spooky wrote it, the way he told it, was captivating. I was beginning to see why Dana had stayed with him for... what was it now, seven years? Apart from the obvious -- he's still damn good looking, even pushing forty -- he had a very persuasive way of making an argument. He wrapped up and I nodded, closing the folder. "We should have an ID in a few days -- the victim had undergone a hip replacement and she wore dentures. We're tracing both through the manufacturers now." He nodded this time, and I looked at him. "Agent Mulder... the most recent body buried there had been dead for a couple of weeks. How likely is it that he's stopped?" "Serial killers rarely just stop, Agent Parker, I'm sure you know that." Dana jumped in at that. "But Mulder, how do you explain the lack of new victims? Some of those women died within days of each other, and now, nothing for weeks." "I don't know, Scully, maybe he found a new dumping ground, maybe he's sick or dead, maybe he's been arrested on something unrelated, maybe..." "Maybe..." They both turned to look at me. I sighed, shook my head. "He hasn't stopped, has he? He's just found a new burial site." Spooky nodded. "I'd have the Richmond PD check missing persons reports for women fitting the victim profile. Check addresses, too -- maybe it's geographic." I hadn't thought of that. I gave him a smile and a pleased look. Dana caught it and smiled herself, proud of him, but Spooky remained stoic. Nevertheless, they both did good work, and I wanted to acknowledge it -- that's one of the first things they teach you about being an ASAC. "Good. We'll do that with the other victims too, once they're all ID'd -- which, incidentally, would be much slower going if it hadn't been for Dana." She blushed a little. "Just doing my job." I shook my head. "It's more than that. You're very dedicated to your work, Dana." I looked at Spooky. "You both are. You both threw yourselves into this, even though it isn't remotely connected to your area of focus. You gave this case everything you have, and as a result it's going to be solved a lot faster than it might've been otherwise. I'm impressed, and I'm grateful." I held Spooky's eyes for a moment then studied the pile of folders in my lap, letting what I said sink in -- for them, and for me. I hadn't planned on saying all that. Then I heard him take a breath and I looked up. He looked surprised, and more than a little bit proud. "Well. Thank you, Agent Parker. Scully and I... we're not exactly used to praise from our supervising agents." "It's genuine, Agent Mulder, believe me." I paused, decided to reveal just a little more. "I haven't been an ASAC on all that many cases, my job doesn't lead to that too often. To have both Dana Scully and Sp-- *Fox* Mulder consulting, well... that's been a real privilege." Shit. And I was doing so well. The flint was back in his eyes -- there was a touch of it in hers, too. I took a deep breath, tried to dig myself out. "And if you want to let a little slip of the tongue negate everything I just said, that's your call. But I meant it." I glanced at Dana. "Ladies room?" "Just past the elevators." I nodded and got up, leaving the files on my chair. In the ladies room I splashed water on my face and tried to steady my breathing, mentally kicking myself. I could not believe I almost called him Spooky to his face. I'd been so careful about that with Dana. The thing was, I really did mean everything I'd said to them. Regret washing over me, I steeled myself for the long trip back down the hall. As I neared the office, I heard them again. This time, there *was* anger in their voices -- because of me, but it seemed to be directed at each other. "Mulder, she apologized..." "She did not apologize, Scully, she had an 'oops' moment. 'Oops, I almost called you Spooky, my bad.' That's not the same thing." "I can't believe you still let that crap affect you." "Yeah, I still let it affect me. You know why? Because it's still there. First thing new agents hear about at the Academy is old Spooky Mulder, tucked away in the basement, chasing government conspiracies and little green men." "*Grey*." I heard a harsh bark of a laugh from him. "You can't tell me you're not embarrassed by the whispers. By people calling you Mrs. Spooky behind your back." Her voice inexplicably softened. "Yeah, I get a little embarrassed sometimes. To be honest, though, it bothers me more when people talk about *you* like that. But Mulder, it's not like you do anything to discourage it." She paused. "'Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation.'" "Jesus, Scully, that was seven years ago..." "And you're still doing it." I heard her sigh and I kicked myself again, this time for not bringing my briefcase with me to the ladies room so I could just leave. "Sometimes... sometimes I think you *like* being Spooky. Because being Spooky is easier than just being Mulder." He didn't say anything for a moment, and I briefly contemplated slipping back into the office. Then I heard him take a shaky breath, and his voice got really quiet and a little rough. "You're wrong, Scully. I *hate* Spooky. Because of what Spooky's cost you." "Mulder, no. We've been through this." "Tough to let go of seven years of guilt." "Especially when it's undeserved." He laughed a little, a self-deprecating laugh. "You know me, Scully. I'm an emotional masochist. Look how long it took me to tell you how I feel about you." "Took me longer. What does that make me?" "Oh god, two emotional masochists in one relationship. Scully, we're seriously fucked." She laughed at that. Meanwhile, my jaw hit the floor. Oh my dear lord. It was true. They were in love with each other. >From her laugh, it sounded like they'd made up. But I had started this, and I needed to finish it -- for my sake more than theirs now. I quietly moved a few steps down the hall, then made some noise as I approached the door. When I came in, he was on his feet behind his desk and she was standing next to him. Her lipstick was the tiniest bit smeared -- only another woman would notice. He started to speak, but stopped when I held up my hand. "Agent Mulder, I owe you an apology. I'm so sorry for what I said. I just didn't think. But I meant everything else -- honestly, working with the two of you was an honor and a pleasure, and I hope we can do it again." I took a step closer, took a deep breath. Kept my eyes locked with his. "The main reason I hesitated about calling you in to begin with, Agent Mulder, was that I thought the case was too mundane to hold your interest. Because I've heard the stories. For years. Stories about Spooky Mulder, about the cases you've investigated in the X-files, about what a brilliant profiler you are. And to tell you the truth, I was a little intimidated. Still am." They'd both listened without saying a word. Now he grinned a bit and shook his head. "Never thought of myself as intimidating." "You are. You're a legend, Agent Mulder. After only, what -- eleven years? Twelve? Most of us will go our entire careers without leaving a mark anywhere near as indelible as the one you've left." I grinned back at him. "And if most of us were honest, we'd tell you that we're jealous as hell." He chuckled at that. "Jealous? Of me? You're not serious." "Dead serious. That's one reason you're the subject of so much... speculation." They shared a look that seemed, to me at least, significant. "But the reason I finally *did* call you was because of Dana." She looked at me then and smiled a little. "I like Dana. I'd like to be friends with Dana. I know that sounds really pathetic in a junior-high-school kind of way, but... On the whole, it's more difficult for female agents to make friends than it is for male agents, the boys don't always let us play with them." They shared another look, not as charged as the last one. I waited until he looked at me again, then held his gaze. "But I know that Dana and I can't really be friends unless..." "Unless what, Agent Parker?" "Unless you and I can be, if not friends exactly, at least friendly acquaintances." I shot him another grin. "Although I would really welcome the opportunity to get to know the real Fox Mulder." "The man behind the legend?" There was that self-deprecating laugh again. "Yes, actually. If only so that the next time Tom Colton starts telling Spooky Stories, I can wipe that smirk off his face with, 'you know, Tom, Mulder told me that's not what really happened...'" Mulder laughed again and shook his head. "Tom Colton. That guy's gonna haunt me to my grave." "Oh, so that one's true?" "Wait, what did he tell you?" "We can save that for another day." It was the first time Dana had spoken since I came back into the office, and now she turned to me. "You said something about lunch?" "Absolutely." I moved to put my files into my briefcase when I heard Mulder shuffle. Dana noticed too. "Mulder?" "I can't. Our three o'clock meeting with Skinner got moved up to one-thirty, I've got to finish up some notes." "Mulder." That sounded like a practiced tone, telling him she knew he was full of shit, designed to extract the truth. I watched this dance between them the same way I'd listened to them from the hall -- they didn't even know I was there. But being in the room had one distinct advantage -- I got to see The Look. The one that inspired fear in lowly lab assistants and commanded respect from any male agents who might underestimate her. Apparently, Mulder had built up a resistance over the last seven years and needed the look/tone combo -- neither seemed to work on its own, but in the face of their combined power he caved almost immediately. "Okay, I requested that the meeting be moved. But I can't change it back now..." "Could you at least *try*, Mulder? C'mon, call Kimberly..." Dana picked up the phone and handed it to him -- I took it from him and hung it up again. "No, please. Really, it's okay, we'll have lunch another time." "Are you sure, Carrie?" "Positive." Mulder looked at me then. "I'm sorry, Agent Parker." I shook my head. "Don't be. And please -- call me Carrie." I picked up my briefcase, held out my hand to him. There was no hesitation this time -- he nodded, shook my hand, even gave me a little smile. I shook hands with Dana and turned to go, stopping at the door. "You know... my husband has one of his rare weekend days off on Sunday, and we're having some people over for a barbecue." Dana was incredulous. "A barbecue? In February?" I laughed. "What can I say? My husband's insane. He's a doctor, you'd think he'd know better." "Your husband's a doctor?" she asked. "He's an ER doc at Georgetown Memorial." I noticed as they exchanged a glance. "What?" Mulder grinned a little. "We've logged a few hours at GMH." Dana matched his grin. "More than a few." So the stories about how often these two were hospitalized were true, too. "Maybe you know him -- Josh Edwards? Tall, nice looking, dark hair, gray at the temples, goofy looking mustache?" Their blank looks told me they've met more than their fair share of ER docs, and my Josh wouldn't have made much of an impression on them. "Doesn't matter, you'll meet him Sunday." They shared another look -- this one I could read. This one confirmed to me that they weren't yet public with their relationship. Was it possible that this was still new? That they'd spent the better part of seven years *not* together, and now they were? Certainly not what I expected. I wanted to let them know it was okay, that I'd keep their secret, but without actually telling them that I knew. "Look, it's mostly neighbors and Josh's friends from the hospital -- the ones who get Sunday off, anyway." I put a hand on Dana's arm, gave it a little squeeze. "Besides me, you'd be the only FBI agents there... and I'd really like somebody to talk to." She gasped a little when she realized. Then she nodded. "Can't let you be bored at your own party." He looked a bit concerned. "Scully..." She nudged him with her shoulder, her eyes never leaving mine. "Great. I'll call you later with directions. It's very casual, if you want you can bring a six-pack or a bottle of wine or whatever... and if it's not too cold, Josh'll probably want to shoot some hoops." Mulder's eyes lit up at that. "Josh plays basketball?" Dana laughed. "Carrie, you said the magic word. He'll be there with bells on." "Not bells, Scully -- my Knicks jersey." I rolled my eyes. "Oh lord, not another Knicks fan. Josh will be thrilled." I turned again to go -- turned back one more time. "Thanks again. Excellent work, both of you." Mulder gave me a tiny, gentle smile. "Thank *you*, Carrie." I went into the hall, toward the elevators. As I waited, I heard their voices again. "Scully, what's going on?" "She knows." "What? How?" He sounded quite disbelieving, not something I would've expected from Spooky -- but something that made perfect sense from Mulder. "I don't know, Mulder. Woman's intuition, maybe?" The elevator arrived and I stepped inside. The doors closed as I heard one last sound. It made me smile. Two very happy people. In love. Laughing. I gotta call Josh. END ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ END NOTES: The Conversation Hearts series started out as three little connected stories about Mulder and Scully and Valentine's Day. It's become a 'reality' I like a lot, and I really enjoy my Mulder and Scully -- romantic and playful, but still carrying a hell of a lot of baggage. The other stories are: Nonessential Personnel (Prologue) Conversation Hearts I: My Funny Valentine Conversation Hearts II: The Dating Game Conversation Hearts III: Always, Forever Taking Care of My Partner (Conversation Hearts IV) You can find them (as well as my other, unrelated stories) at Ephemeral and the 2000 Spooky Awards page -- someday eventually I'll get around to doing a web page of my own. Lara Means