Well, I finally finished this post-Small Potatoes effort--don't you hate it
when real life gets in the way of fanfic?  Anyway, this is my attempt to deal
with the awkwardness Scully's encounter with Eddie must have caused.  And,
for the record, Eddie's actions are, in my book and in Scully's, rape.
 Feedback is welcomed at this hellish AOL address or at my school address,
but I won't be able to access it until August.

RATING:  PG-13
CLASSIFICATIONS:  S, MSR
KEYWORDS:  Post-Small Potatoes, MSR
DISCLAIMER:  Scully, Mulder, and Eddie belong to MFAC, 1013, and Fox, not me.
SUMMARY:  Scully forces Mulder to discuss the ramifications of Eddie Van
Blundht's attempted 'seduction.'
DEDICATIONS:  This one is for Tab, who I haven't talked to in a while and
miss, and for Amy, who's visits have been chock full of fun and obsessing
<G>.


CARVING OUT OF JEALOUSY
Danielle Dupr_'
<winemaxf@aol.com    or    winema@mail.utexas.edu>

	I walked beside him, unsure of how to break the odd discomfort that shadowed
our partnership for the past month.  Searching my mind for the proper thing
to say, I settled on the simplest.  "I'm sure you don't need to be told this,
Mulder,"  I spoke quietly, not turning to look at him.  "But you're not a
loser."
	I still couldn't figure out why he'd asked me to accompany him to see Eddie
Van Blundht in prison.  After all, he hadn't included me in anything unless
absolutely necessary during the twenty-nine days since he'd burst through my
door to find me about to kiss a man who, for all intents and purposes, was
him.  I can't even begin to describe the thoughts that ran through my head in
the few seconds it took me to get out from under the impostor.  Humiliation,
anger, hurt, and disgust were among the top ten.  After his initial shock,
Mulder had snapped into his professional mode, cuffing Van Blundht while I
called the local precinct.  
	Mulder's words jolted me from my thoughts.  "Yeah, but I'm no Eddie Van
Blundht, either,"  he answered, fidgeting with his cuffs to avoid eye
contact.  "Am I?"
	I clenched my jaw, forcibly holding back the remarks threatening to tumble,
unchecked, from my mouth.  Although his words could be taken as an insult,
his tone revealed true uncertainty.  I longed to take his hand and tell him
that, no, he wasn't Van Blundht because he didn't need to be.  He was Mulder,
the most important person in my life, and a wonderful man.  But, as per our
usual pattern of leaving things unsaid, I didn't speak until we reached the
car.
	"Give me the keys," I demanded, holding out my hand.  After a tense moment,
our gazes locked.  Mulder studied my face, then dug his keys out and dropped
them on my palm, careful not to touch me.  That's another thing that's
changed since that fateful night.  Mulder's casual touches have ceased.  His
hand no longer graces the small of my back, or my elbow, or even my shoulder.
 As irritating and proprietary as I once considered his actions to be, I
sorely missed what little physical contact we used to have.
	I slid into the driver's seat, pausing to pull it forward, and slammed the
door.  As I started the car, Mulder slumped into the passenger side, turning
his face towards the window.  His body language practically begged for me to
leave him alone, so I obliged during the drive, snapping the radio on.
 Before this rift of sorts, we'd never needed the radio.  Instead, we used
our drives to debate our latest case or where we would stop for dinner.  Even
the silence used to be comfortable, but now, it pulsed with unspoken words
and thoughts to which neither of us possessed the courage to give voice.
	Mulder buried himself in his head, ignoring both the radio and my frequent
glances with admirable ease.  Not even a near miss with a two brunettes
driving maniacally in a Toyota roused him from his fugue state.  In fact, I
parked at the curb in front of my apartment before he spoke.  Turning his
head towards me, yet staring past me out the window, he said, "Thanks for
driving."
	I sat there and studied him, this man who I thought I knew so well.  It's
true that my own embarrassment and anger helped create this distance between
us, but I was ready to hash it out so that we could go back to being partners
in the truest sense of the word.  Since all but the most rudimentary
communication between us had ceased, I had no way of knowing if Mulder had
reached the same point.
	With a slight nod, I pulled the keys from the ignition and stepped out of
the car.  Locking the door, I rounded the hood, watching Mulder from the
corner of my eye.  I could feel his quizzical gaze on me, but I merely kept
walking.  By the time he opened his door, I'd nearly reached the stairs.  
	"Hey, Scully.  Last time I checked, keys were required to drive cars."
	I forced the irritation off of my face, and glanced over my shoulder.  "Come
on in, Mulder.  We need to talk."  Not pausing to see if he followed, I
opened the front door and proceeded to my apartment.  I hadn't even finished
unlocking the door when he caught up to me.
	"Scully, what's going on?"  He asked, his voice suddenly full of fear.  He
leaned into my space and studied my face.
	Immediately, I knew he'd assumed that I had bad news about my tumor, and I
raised my gaze to his.  "Nothing like that, Mulder,"  I answered and he
relaxed visibly.  
	The tumblers turned, and I pushed the door open, glancing again at the new
section of the door frame that didn't quite match the rest.  I opened the
door wide, crossing to the table behind my couch to check my answering
machine for messages.  The red light remained steady, and I dropped the car
keys next to the phone before turning back to Mulder.  
	He stood in the doorway, his eyes raking over every last detail of my living
room and it hit me.  He hadn't been back since that night.  I gave myself a
mental slap and stepped into his line of sight.  "Are you coming in?"
	I could see his face harden into its mask as he held my gaze.  "Can I sit on
the couch?"  He asked, sarcasm adding bite to the question.
	I flinched, then cursed myself for allowing him to get to me.  "Sure," I
answered, ignoring the double meaning.  "Would you like something to drink?"
	Mulder shrugged out of his coat, tossing it carelessly on the chair near the
door, then rounded the couch, sitting gingerly on the edge.  Looking up at me
from his new vantage point, he snorted.  "I'm not really a big drinker,
Scully.  Got any wine?"
	Even though I knew why he was acting like a petulant ten year old, his words
hurt.  I raised my chin defiantly and narrowed my eyes slightly.  "No," I
paused, arching a brow and letting a touch of sarcasm lace my tone.  "I do
have some Absolut and I can probably rustle up some orange juice concentrate,
but I was thinking more along the lines of water, iced tea, or Sprite."  It
was only after the words left my mouth that I remembered that long ago night
that Mulder had forever linked iced tea to the sexual tension between us.  My
whole body tensed as I waited, sure he'd twist my words around to hurt me as
I'd apparently hurt him.
	To my surprise, the tension drained from the lines of his body as he held my
gaze.  I watched his eyes soften in confusion.  Finally, he spoke quietly
 "I'm sorry."
	I can count on one hand the number of times I've heard Mulder apologize, and
only a couple of those times had been to me, so I was a bit shocked when I
heard his words.  After a moment's hesitation, I rounded the edge of the
couch and sat in the white chair to the side.  Even in my surprise, I
consciously avoided sitting where I'd sat that night.  I reached out and
grasped Mulder's hand lightly.  "It's okay.  I'm sorry, too."
	Mulder's eyes widened, and I saw the hurt set in.  Realizing he'd
misinterpreted what I was apologizing for, I sighed.  This was harder than I
thought it would be.  Sharing my feelings was not something I was good at,
especially when the listener was Mulder, which was another reason I should've
known it wasn't Mulder that night.  Eddie had been so easy to talk to, yet
I'd still believed he was my prickly, self-absorbed partner.
	Mulder leaned back into the cushions, his hand pulling from my grasp as he
stared at the empty fireplace.  I followed his gaze, wondering if his mind
was replaying that night, too.  Sighing, I bent forward, settling my elbows
on my knees.  After a long, tense moment, I gathered my courage and spoke,
"Mulder, we need to talk about this."
	Mulder's jaw clenched, but he merely asked, "About what?"
	I rolled my eyes.  Mulder was nothing if not an expert at evading intimacy
of any kind.  Turning my head, I pinned him with my gaze.  "Mulder."  His
head fell back to the cushions and his eyes closed.  I allowed him a moment
to struggle with his demons before continuing, "You know what this is about."
	Finally, my words broke through his layers of protective shields and he sat
up.  His intense hazel eyes burned into mine as he spoke.  "Yes, I do know
what this is about," he conceded, his husky voice soft in the silence of my
apartment. "But I think it's best that we pretend that night never happened."
	Anger flooded my body, "Best for who, Mulder?  For you?  So that you can
ignore the elephant in the room for a bit longer?  So you can keep pushing me
away until our partnership is a memory?  We've been pretending for the past
month, and it's not working anymore."  I bit off my tirade and crossed my
arms defiantly.  The ball was in his court.
	Mulder hesitated for a long, tense moment before he sighed, "You're right,
Scully."  The lines of his body relaxed as his gaze slid from mine to examine
something fascinating just over my left shoulder.
	I allowed myself a small smile, "Could I get that on tape, Mulder?"
	My question elicited a surprised laugh from my partner, and I added another
to my mental tally of the times I'd been able to make Mulder laugh.  It
didn't happen often.
	The serious tone of his next words pulled me out of my thoughts, "I don't
know what you want me to say, Scully.  The image of Eddie and you . . . "
	Finally, we were getting somewhere.  His narrowed eyes still studied the
wall behind me as his hands twisted a bit in his lap.  I remained quiet,
hoping he'd fill the silence with words.  I didn't have long to wait.
	"I couldn't believe it,"  Hurt laced his husky voice, and his eyes jumped
back to mine.  "Four years we're partners, and you couldn't tell it wasn't
me?  Why is that, Scully?"
	Ouch.  He'd gone straight for the heart of the matter.  This time it was me
who broke eye contact, ducking my head to study my hands.  I paused to
collect my thoughts, then spoke carefully.  "I've asked myself that same
question many times since that night,"  My gaze rose to his.  "The only thing
that makes sense is that I wanted so much for it to be you that I ignored any
warning signs that it wasn't."
	Mulder's eyes widened noticeably, and I furrowed my brow in a silent
question.  After a moment, he asked softly, "What do you mean you wanted it
to be me?"
	Realization dawned.  My words could be interpreted two ways, and although he
wasn't wrong, I was not ready to discuss that aspect of my feelings.  I
backpedaled quickly.  "We rarely talk, and although I feel I know you well,
there are some aspects of your life that I know next to nothing about.
 Sometimes I think it would be nice for us to just sit and talk."
	His face fell slightly, and his gaze skipped away from me.  I sighed,
wondering why our conversations were so full of unspoken and unfulfilled
hopes.  Mulder slumped back into the couch cushions, his feelings clearly
hurt.  After a moment of plucking listlessly at a pillow, he spoke
defensively.  "You can talk to me, Scully, you know that."
	I rolled my eyes.  This was not a topic we needed to get into just yet.
 Mulder's intense involvement in our work left little time for the niceties
of life, one of which was simple conversation between friends.  But, I could
find no way to explain this without it seeming like a personal attack.  "I
know I can talk to you about the important stuff, Mulder," I said in a
conciliatory tone, hoping he'd accept my answer.
	Mulder's head snapped up and he pinned me with his hazel eyes.  "What's that
supposed to mean?"
	I suppressed the apprehension building in my stomach and concentrated on
formulating an answer.  After a moment, I spoke casually, "Just what I
said--I can talk to you about the important stuff."
	Mulder rose, tension thrumming in the lines of his body as he paced to the
window and looked out.  His voice was bitter when he answered, "But you can't
just sit and talk to me." 
	I stood from the chair and approached him.  Once at his side, I joined him
in staring out the window at the blue house next door.  Absently, I noted a
hint of brown showing through the paint in the light of the waning sun.
 Turning my attention back to the man beside me, I opened my mouth to speak.
	Mulder's next words cut me off,  "Is that why you were going to let him kiss
you?"
	I froze, stunned that he'd actually verbalized the question that had been
hanging over our heads for the past month.  I searched my mind for an answer,
but none was forthcoming.  What could I say?  That I wasn't going to let Van
Blundht-as-Mulder kiss me?  I couldn't even rationalize that one to myself,
never mind to the man who'd kicked in my door in time to get an eyeful.
 After a lengthy pause, I decided that the truth, embarrassing though it may
be, was the only way to go.  Taking a deep breath and screwing up my courage,
I answered,  "Yes, I suppose it is."
	Although my eyes stayed on my neighbor's house, I remained focused entirely
on Mulder as he stood there, motionless.  Finally, he nodded once, then
walked away.  I didn't turn, but listened to his footsteps.  The infuriating
man was actually going to leave without another word.  Spinning suddenly, I
nearly yelled, "Mulder, where are you going?"
	He stopped in place, his back to me and his coat dangling from his left
hand.  "I don't really think there's anything more to say, Scully," he
answered, his tone of voice resigned.
	I snorted, then marched determinedly to him.  His head fell forward in
defeat or irritation--I couldn't tell which--as I reached his side.  "Oh,
we've only scratched the surface," I said angrily, glaring up at him.
	Mulder tilted his head in my direction, but avoided my gaze.  "What, are you
going to list every other reason why you'd never kiss me?"  He asked
raggedly, the hurt in his voice squeezing my heart painfully.  "Because I
assure you, I can list them all myself.  Can we save ourselves the time and
the aggravation if I promise to go home and beat my head against the wall?"  
	Mulder stormed toward the door, and it took me a moment to force my body to
move.  I caught his arm and spoke,  "Mulder, that's not what--"
	"Do you have any idea what it's like to walk in on the one person you trust,
only to see her about to do the wild thing with someone else?"  He towered
over me, eyes flashing.
	Even in my shock, I managed a bitter laugh, "So quickly we forget," I
answered sarcastically, "Should I list them alphabetically or
chronologically?"
	He rolled his eyes, "Scully, that's different.  *I* didn't think they were
some new-and-improved version of you."
	I shook my head, baffled by his illogical retort, "What are you talking
about, Mulder?  I thought he was *you*."
	He finally turned to me, his gaze pinning my in place as surely as his hands
on my shoulders.  "It doesn't matter, Scully.  The only reason you let him
get that close is because he didn't have my faults.  You wanted *his*
personality, not mine."
	I shook my head slowly.  "That's not true," I answered.  "The only reason I
let him in the door is because I thought he was the man I trust and respect.
 I wouldn't have let anyone else that close to me, Mulder."  
	As my words hung in the air, I realized I'd said far too much.  My face
slowly grew hot, and I hoped the blush wasn't too noticeable in the dimness
of the gloaming.  Mulder's hands loosened their grip on my shoulders as his
eyes searched my face.  "Scully," he spoke finally, a slight tremble in his
voice, "What are you trying to say?"
	My throat suddenly closed up, disallowing words.  I stared at him, taking in
the badly disguised hope in his eyes and finally understood.  He hadn't
withdrawn from me because of discomfort with the fact that I'd almost kissed
someone I thought was him, but because he'd wanted it to *be* him.  Jealousy
fueled his sudden need for physical distance between us, even though I doubt
he had recognized it for what it was until this confrontation.  
	Some unnamed emotion spread through me as a smile fought to curve my lips.
 Still unable to find the words, I allowed our silent communication to take
over.  After an intense moment of searing eye contact, I placed my hands on
his biceps and slowly leaned up towards him.
	Mulder's beautiful hazel eyes widened slightly, and I heard his breathing
alter slightly.  His eyes dropped to my lips, and he bent his head.  Slowly,
slowly, I closed the distance between us, my gaze drawn to his full lips
until they parted slightly.  My eyes slid closed as our lips touched softly.
	Neither of us moved for a timeless moment, content with just the barest
contact.  Finally, Mulder's hands on my shoulders slid down my back, pulling
me towards him.  I swayed into him, tilting my head and increasing the
pressure on his mouth.  His full lips caressed mine, as my arms encircled his
neck. 
	My mouth opened on a sigh, and Mulder deepened the kiss.  After several
moments of bliss, I reluctantly pulled back a bit.  Mulder groaned, then
opened his eyes to meet mine, all insecurities about Van Blundht erased by
our kisses.  Gracing him with a small, seductive smile, I whispered,
"*That's* what I was trying to say."
	Mulder's brow furrowed for a moment, and then he grinned at me.  His hands
left my back, sliding up and cupping my face.  He kissed my forehead, then
cocked his head to the side and smirked at me, "I'm afraid there may have
been some interference with your message.  I'm gonna need you to repeat that
a couple of times to ensure that there's no misinterpretation on this end."
	His hazel eyes danced as he waited for response.  I let a smile surface
briefly, then arched a brow at him.  "Only a couple of times?"  I asked
innocently.
	Mulder laughed softly, leaning his forehead against mine.  "I knew there was
a reason I fell in love with you," he answered playfully.  Mulder pulled back
slightly when he realized what he'd said, but I followed him, kissing him
softly, yet passionately.
	I drew away when the tension receded from his body.  Instinctively, I knew
he needed me to lighten the moment.  Giving him a tender smile, I spoke
seductively, "You only want me for my body."
	Mulder closed his eyes on a moan.  "Scully,"  he said, his voice husky. "If
you want me to leave tonight, you've got to quit using that tone of voice."
	I grinned at him, "Who said I wanted you to leave?"
	Mulder's eyes lit up as he gazed down at me, lips curved upwards.  He leaned
down, his eyes dropping to my lips, but I evaded his kiss.  A frown flitted
across his features until I reached up and caressed his jaw.  "I love you,
too, Mulder," I said quietly,  "I just thought you should know that."
	Mulder's smirk widened into a goofy grin, and I felt a matching smile
splitting my own cheeks.  

THE END

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