Title: After (1/1) Author: Adrienne < davephile@yahoo.com > Date: July 24, 2008 Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: S7 Classification: MSR Keywords: Mulder/Scully Archive: Anywhere, in its entirety Summary: A relationship evolves. Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, but I thank their rightful owners for sharing them with me for the past 15 years. AUTHOR'S NOTES: I needed to pass the time until THE EVENT, 7/25/08, the dawn of the new XF millennium, so I wrote this series of short S7 post-ep vignettes. I picked my favorite episodes. Maybe it will help you pass the time, too. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx He watches her walk away down the long hallway, her hips moving in a hypnotic sway. He stands still in his doorway, his lips tingling with the memory of her. He's now convinced nothing will ever happen in this hallway. No matter what he says--"you've kept me honest, you've made me a whole person, you're my touchstone, my constant"--the hallway is an utterly impossible place to hit one out of the park. He feels change, an inkling of excitement that spreads from every spot she just touched. Her lips on his forehead, her hands on his face, those soft thumbs on his lips. The tears in her eyes because she understood what lie beneath the cover of his words. It's time for fate to step in. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx His arm around her shoulders feels like it belongs there, really belongs there now. She basks in a secret afterglow beyond the kiss, wondering if he notices. It had been so easy after all that time. A simple excuse was all it took for him to finally grace her lips with his. She wants to live in that moment forever, a Waterford crystal ball falling toward the future. The humming of fluorescence and industrial-grade heating. Music and cheers as if Times Square knew this kiss would change everything. This kiss, his kiss: soft, sure, delicate, chaste. His smile would have made her melt if she hadn't already gone weak in the knees. He walks her to her car. Fireworks explode in the darkened sky--red, green, white, the birth of a decade. The world didn't end. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Legs entangled, satisfied, alone. He wakes up to daylight peering through his window after the sweetest of dreams. He closes his eyes. This time, the memory of her touch is too real to be fantasy. Her soft curves, her graceful movement above and below him, her fingers along his spine, the echoes of her breath hidden in the dark corners of his room. She was gone. He knew she would leave. Waking up together would have been too much for her to process after a night of shutting out reason and consequence. Breathe in, breathe out. A gold cross necklace glints from the pillow beside him. Her pillow. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx She likes laughing around him. They'd shared different kinds of laughter throughout the years, but this is the laughter she likes best. Giddy, expectant laughter, knowing that waving the Bureau credit card in front of him was enough to inspire him to finish licking his wounds and live a little on their last night in L.A. She was ready to live, to keep on living. He'd grabbed her hand as they left the set, claiming her as his own for the first time in the open. It thrilled the tiny part of her that was still pretending all of this was surreal, that it only existed behind closed doors. He brings her to a diner on Sunset that serves up above- average greasy spoon fare. They smile at each other, nearly shy, two high school kids on their first date. He dips french fries in catsup and feeds them to her. On-the-road chic. She watches as he plucks the pickles off of his cheeseburger, then offers them to her. They wander hand-in-hand down to the Standard and slip in, anonymous amongst younger faces and technotrance music. An outside pool overlooks the Hollywood hills. He slides into a lounge chair and she laughs softly as he motions for her. She climbs into his lap and his warm arms slip around her. She settles her head back against his chest with a sigh. "I don't want it to end," he whispers into her hair. That night they forgot who they were. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx He finishes off his first beer with a silent flourish, laying the bottle on the coffee table and giving it a spin on its side. Bill Murray is declaring war on the gopher. The bottle stops, pointing at her. He watches her take another draw and waits for her to notice. She does. A tiny smile emerges as she leaves her beer on the table. "Spin the bottle, Mulder?" Her voice is low and teasing, a tone he fell in love with the first time he heard it. "A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, Scully," he says, turning to her. She leans onto the side of the couch and he slides over, hovers on her. "I knew you didn't want to watch Caddyshack," she whispers. His kiss captures her soft laugh. Her mouth is full and warm and tastes like Shiner Bock. He shivers as her fingernails scrape the back of his neck. Wish granted. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Every step is a dream. She'd laughed outloud when the doctor recommended a pregnancy test. She'd given in at the doctor's urgency to rule out all possible causes of her symptoms. Dizzy. Nauseous. She should have known her body well enough. When the results came back, she immediately demanded another test. Good humor transformed to anger and disbelief. Another test gave her the miraculously impossible result once again. The shock came, and then the joy, and then the fear. What would she tell him when he got back from Oregon? What would it change? She tells him she's pregnant, but it's not the right him. Her boss looks her, a contorted mix of confusion, hurt and happiness. She has to find him. She will find him. His truth is inside of her, proof of the divine, proof of the intangible. Never give up on a miracle. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx end