Title - 24 hours a day
Author - Cyra
Rating - PG-13
Classification - SRA, MSR
Spoilers - Milagro
Keywords - Mulder/Scully romance.
Summary - A third party listens in on a cleansing of souls.
Feedback - ccontryman@ups.edu
Archive - Gossamer, Spookys, Fran.  Others please let me know.
Disclaimer - Yeah, I don't own them.  Whatever.

***

I'm calling from the diner
The diner on the corner
I ordered two coffees
One is for you
And the cups are so close
That the steam is rising in one stream.
- Ani DiFranco

"Mulder, do you think there's any way anyone can know we're here?"

"Absolutely not, Scully.  Don't get paranoid on me."

Soft snort.  "Pot calling the kettle black..."

"Scully, please, let's just do this.  It's time to get this out in the
open."

"Okay."  The woman cleared her throat.  "I want you."

Sheryl was working late that night.  She really didn't expect anyone to
come in - the restaurant, though open twenty-four hours a day, didn't
usually have too many customers at three in the morning.  But the two of
them had sauntered in at 2:45, looking for all the world like a pair of
FBI agents.  Sheryl had ignored them, knowing that Barry would get them
coffee and anything else they wanted.  But now, it was pointless not to
listen.  She was sitting in the booth right next to them, hunched over
her stats homework, when the short redheaded woman had dropped that
particular bombshell.  And stats was pretty much over for the night.

"That's a very good point, Scully.  We should take that into account. 
Especially since I want you, too."

"That's good."  The redhead's voice was soft, but intense.  Sheryl
hadn't gotten a good look at them as they'd come in, but she could hear
their voices, and was creating an image in her own mind.  "That's very
good, Mulder.  What else do you feel for me?"

"There's jealousy, in abundance.  When I read what Padgett wrote about
you, Scully, I wanted to kill him.  Every time some junior agent makes a
pass at you, Scully, I see red."

"Hmmm.  Well, that's interesting.  I feel jealousy, too.  We're not
going to talk about Diana tonight, Mulder, but you must know that her
past with you is part of the reason that I dislike her so much.  I was
even jealous of Karen, Mulder, because it was obvious how much she liked
you.  Even though I was fairly sure you would never go for her."

"I would never go for her, Scully, as you so delicately put it, because
I have this crazed fixation for my partner.  You would do well to
remember that."

"As you would do well to remember that I'm not going to fall into bed
with every lovelorn writer who crosses my path."

"You were sitting on his bed."  The man's voice was faintly accusing.

"And you shared one with Diana.  Let's move on to the next point."

"Okay."  The man seemed annoyed, but he dropped the subject on the
woman's request.  "I feel...loneliness. When I'm at home without you."

"As do I.  I like it when you call me in the middle of the night or come
over to drag me off to some undisclosed location.  I like to be with
you."

"Why?  I mean, I'm not the world's best company, Scully."

"But you are to me.  I love to be with you, Mulder.  You challenge me. 
And though I don't get as much sleep as I did before I met you, it's
been worth it."

"Which brings us to our next point.  I have confidence in you.  I call
you up in the middle of the night because I know that you will make the
right decision as to whether we should go off on our wild-goose chase."

"I think that that point is pretty much covered, Mulder.  If I didn't
have confidence in you, I would have requested a transfer years ago."

There was a long silence while they both digested that and Barry poured
them some coffee.  Sheryl looked up at him when he ambled back to the
kitchen, but didn't speak.  She didn't want them to know she was there.

"Okay, so we're moving on?"  Mulder asked.

"Just lead the way."

"What's the verdict, then, Scully?"

"I want to sleep with you."

Sheryl dropped her pencil and had to go looking for it under the table.  

"Scully."  The man cleared his throat.  "Let's go ahead and drop the
pretenses, why don't we?"

"Isn't that what this conversation is about, Mulder?"

"Yes.  I suppose it's obvious that I want to sleep with you, too.  More
specifically, I want to make love to you.  I want to...."

"Yes?"  The woman's voice was breathless.

"I want to kiss you right now."

"Mulder, we need to be rational, here."

"So, what should we do about this?"

"We have several options, of course.  We could go on as we have."

"Torturous, but I suppose it's an option."

"We could request reassignment."

There was a pause.  Then, in a quiet, almost deadly voice, the man said,
"Unacceptable."

The woman acquiesced gracefully.  "We could bring the matter before the
bureau counselors.  I'm sure they have dealt with this problem before."

"And have them report us to Kersh or the director?  No, Scully, that's
exactly what we should not do."

"Counselors and psychiatrists do not betray client confidentiality,
Mulder."

"But their files could be searched, Scully.  Their rooms could be
tapped.  I think we need to keep these kinds of conversations to
nameless diners at early morning hours."

"Point taken. Our remaining option, then, seems to be to sleep
together."

Sheryl was breathing heavily by now, but both the man and the woman
seemed quietly detached, clinical even.

"And what are the pros and cons associated with this solution?"

"Well, the obvious being that I could get a good night's sleep without
waking up sweating and missing you."

"Do you do that?"

"Yes.  Nearly every night.  I want to hold you, Mulder.  I want to sleep
in your arms and wake up to your face."

There was a pause.  Then, in a strangled voice, the man said, "I do,
too.  I know how beautiful you are in the morning."

Scully snorted.  "Flattery isn't necessary, Mulder."

"It's true.  You're beautiful in the mornings.  And I could do with
sleeping in a real bed for a change.  I love your bed."

"Thank you."  The woman paused.  "Which brings us to the matter of
security.  It's not as if we could ever spend the night in each other's
beds.  That would be like waving the red flag in front of the bull."

"In the field, where they can't see us.  We could do it."

"And still pay for two hotel rooms?  That sounds frugal."

"But necessary to maintain the illusion that we're not involved."

"I take it that we have decided on this course of action."

The man paused.  "This is a big step, Scully.  Are we ready to take it?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "Will we be able to maintain our
professional relationship?  Will we be able to take each other seriously
as intellectuals?"

"Will you still respect me in the morning?" Mulder asked teasingly.

"Well...yes."

"I think that that goes without saying, Scully.  Our working
relationship is strong.  It's been developing for six years.  And while
it may be a little...hard at times to keep our minds on work after we
make love, it will be no more hard than it is now."

The woman was smiling.  Sheryl could hear it in her voice.  "Very
eloquently put, Mulder."

"I can't take much more of this, Scully.  It's hard for a man to work
side by side with the woman of his dreams and never touch her."

"You touch me.  All the time."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes."  She sighed.  "Am I really the woman of your dreams, Mulder?"

"You're the only one who has stayed with me, Scully.  You're the one who
has had the patience and perseverance to get past all the shit I lay
down and still accept me."

"That's all very sweet, Mulder, but you could just as well have been
describing Frohike or Senator Matheson.  What -"

"Scully," Mulder said firmly, "What I feel for you is worlds away from
what I feel for Frohike, I can promise you that."

"That's because I'm female and I don't reek of tuna fish, Mulder."

"Thank God for that.  I don't like tuna fish."

"My point, Mulder, is that my feelings for you transcend anything that I
could classify as earthly or ordinary.  I feel that you and I have
something beyond the everyday love affair."

"Immunity from extraterrestrial viruses, for one thing."

Sheryl shook her head and ignored that one.  She just didn't want to
know.

"Mulder."

"Are you saying that you're in love with me, Scully?"

Mulder's voice was like a small child's.  Sheryl wanted to run over and
give him a hug.

"I...don't know."

Short silence.  "What do you mean, you don't know?"  Mulder demanded,
suddenly indignant.  

"Why?  Do you love me?"  The woman challenged, and Sheryl could hear a
teaspoon tapping irritably on a saucer.  

"Of course I love you.  You're my best friend."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Well, how can I declare my undying, passionate love when you 'don't
know?'"  Mulder took a loud slurp of his coffee.  

Impatient huff.  "Fine.  I love you.  Does that satisfy you?"

"Oh, that's nice.  How am I supposed to believe you when you say it like
that?"

"Because it's true and you know it, Mulder.  Okay?"

Now the silence was heavy.  Sheryl bit her lip, staring at a frequency
distribution graph and circling a zero with the tip of her pencil.  The
zero grew steadily darker until it was a blot on the page.

"I love you too."

The words were grudging, painful, belligerent.  But also sincere.

"As in...you're in love with me?"

"Yeah."

Scully started sniffling.

"Don't cry, Scully," Mulder said in a strained voice. "I don't think I
can handle it tonight."

"Sorry."

"Can we get out of here, Scully?  I mean, now that we've got all this
out of the way, maybe we can..."

"I'm not going to sleep with you tonight, Mulder," Scully said.  "I
haven't bathed for thirty hours, I'm crying and I need to brush my
teeth."

Sheryl expected some crack about how sexy she could be, but Mulder
surprised her.  "You're at your most beautiful, Scully.  Come on, let's
get back to the hotel.  We'll talk more in the morning."

Sheryl ducked her head as they walked past her.  She didn't want to see
their faces.  She had a very clear image of what they looked like, and
she didn't want reality to intrude.  Because in her mind's eye, they
looked like...

When the pay phone ate her first quarter, she almost hung up.  But when
Jacob answered on the first ring and she heard his voice, low and
gravelly from sleep, she was glad she had called.

"'Lo?" He mumbled.

"Hi," she said.

"Sherry?" She could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.  "What's
going on?  It's three in the morning."

"I want to talk to you," she said, twisting the cord of the phone around
her finger.  "Can you come down to the diner?"

"Uh..yeah.  Yeah.  I'll be down in fifteen minutes.  Are you okay?"

"Yeah."  She could feel tears prick the backs of her eyelids.  "I just
want to tell you something."

Finis