Title: Slow Burn
Author: Susan
E-mail: touchstone98@tx.rr.com

Classification: story
Keyword: angst
Rating: PG
Spoilers: One Son, brief references to Tithonus,
Pilot, Fight the Future, The End, Two Fathers

Archive: No archive without permission.
Disclaimer: On paper, they're not mine. In my 
head, they are.

Author's notes: When I wrote the first part of 
this story back in November, I had no intention
of adding more to it, and I certainly never
expected to be adding nine more parts to it,
but then I read your letters, and I knew I *had* 
to write more.:) Thanks for letting me know that 
you were touched by my story and for reawakening 
my love of the written word.

More notes at the end.

Summary: There's really only one thing she wants
from him, one thing she needs, no matter how
painful it may be.
*********************************************************

Slow Burn
by Susan
~~~~

She's never done this before.

No, that's not true.

There was the time she went to a crummy bar with 
a man she barely knew and drank more than she 
should have and had a tattoo burned into her skin 
then went back to the apartment of the man she 
barely knew and almost got herself killed the 
next morning.

But that was two years ago when she didn't know 
what she wanted out of her life.

Or what she wanted from Mulder.

Now she thinks she knows and earlier tonight she 
tried to tell him that she knows...of course, 
she tried to do it in front of his friends, which 
probably wasn't the best move on her part, but 
still...what the hell was so hard to understand 
about "Without the FBI, personal interest is all 
that I have?"

Was he really that clueless about her feelings 
for him?

Or was he so pissed off at her for going behind 
his back to find out more about Diana that he 
only heard what he wanted to hear?

Either way, he hurt her.

So now she's sitting in this crummy bar drinking 
a drink that she doesn't really want but that 
she thinks she wants but it's not really making 
her feel any better and it's not stopping the 
ache she's had in her heart since he looked at 
her with his cold eyes and said his cold words 
and on second thought maybe she does know why 
she wants that drink.

He didn't believe her.

He dismissed her emotions and her instincts and 
everything else that makes their relationship 
work.

And he chose not to believe her.

The same man who believes in everything chose 
not to trust what she was saying.

Tipping her head back, she takes another drink 
from the glass, closes her eyes as the bitter 
liquid burns the sides of her throat.

What was she thinking letting him into her life 
the way she did, letting him challenge her way 
of thinking and show her a world where anything 
is possible?

The truth is, she wasn't thinking.

She was feeling.

But how long can she stay away from him in this 
crummy bar, away from what she wants to tell him? 

She doesn't know.

She just knows that she needs to.

And it is at that moment of realization that she 
hears her phone ring, amidst all the noise, amidst 
all the people around her who are drinking and 
talking and completely oblivious to the fact 
that the world could be ending in less than 24 
hours.

It's him. She knows it is. Even without picking 
it up and looking at the caller ID, she knows 
it's him.

It's always him.

But she takes it out of her pocket anyway, looks 
at the number, at his name, and wonders just how 
much longer she can keep doing this.

A day? A month? The rest of her life?

She knows the answer, but closes the phone and 
tucks it back into her pocket, then lifts the 
glass to her lips again and closes her eyes.

"You didn't answer your phone," says a low voice,
surprising her from behind.

It's his voice, the same voice that told her she 
was the only one he trusted, that she was his one 
in five billion.

The same voice that sarcastically told her she 
was making things personal.

Lowering the glass from her mouth, she places 
it on the bar and clasps it with both hands, 
but doesn't turn to look at him. "And you didn't 
believe me."

"No, I didn't," he says as he sits down on the 
empty stool beside her. "And I'm very sorry for 
that, Scully."

Was he? Was he really sorry, or was he just 
saying it to make himself feel better?

So she turns to face him in this crummy bar she's 
been sitting in for the last hour and she blocks 
out all the noise around her and all the anger 
inside her and she looks into his eyes to see 
what's real and what's not.

And then she knows.

"We need to talk about this," he says, his eyes 
still fixed on hers, his hand softly squeezing 
her forearm, then retreating back into his lap.

"Yes, we do," she says, taking one last drink 
from her glass, then placing it back on the bar. 

"My apartment isn't too far from here," he 
suggests as he stands up from the stool.

But she already knows that, just as she knows 
that's why she chose to come here in the first 
place.

Standing up from her seat too, she tries to 
look calm and in control even though her head 
is pounding and her body is thrumming and could 
somebody please make the room stop spinning?

She feels his arm brushing against her shoulder 
then, feels his warm breath on her neck as he 
leans in closer and whispers, "I think I should 
drive."

"Okay," she says simply as they make their way 
through the crowd and head towards the exit.

And though she knows she shouldn't talk to him 
when her mind's so clouded, her heart so heavy, 
she takes a deep breath, then walks through the
door and does what she always does.

She follows him into the dark.

~~~~

She didn't know what to say.

Of course, her head was still pounding from the 
drink she'd had, but still, she hadn't even 
finished what was in the glass.

So, why wasn't she saying anything when she had 
so many emotions buried inside?

And more importantly, why wasn't he?

After all, he's the one who said they needed 
to talk, and now he's driving and he's not even 
looking at her when they come to a stoplight and 
if he doesn't say something in the next thirty 
seconds, she swears she's going to scream.

Of course, she's not really going to scream, 
but she may start swearing if he doesn't say 
something, anything to break the uncomfortable 
silence hanging between them.

And then he does.

"We're almost there," he says as he flips on the 
turn signal and works his way over into the right 
hand lane.

"That's all you have to say?" she grumbles, making 
sure to keep her eyes straight ahead.

"That's all I have to say...for now," he replies, 
and even though it's dark in the car she's sure 
she can see his knuckles turn white as he grips 
the steering wheel tighter.

For now, huh?

Well, she's got something to say for now too, and 
he's going to listen to it whether he wants to or
not.

"You hurt me, Mulder," she blurts out, still 
keeping her eyes straight ahead because if she 
doesn't keep them straight ahead and she looks 
at him she knows she's going to say too much 
and even though she wants to tell him what she's 
been keeping inside, she doesn't want to tell 
him everything.

Yet.

He doesn't reply to what she just said, doesn't 
even let out a sigh, shrug his shoulders, shift 
in his seat.

Nothing.

He just keeps on driving, which makes her angrier 
and even more frustrated, but she doesn't say 
anything else either, deciding that it's probably 
better not to, not when she's inside a moving car
with her stomach all tied in knots and her head 
still pounding.

Moments later when he pulls into the parking lot 
in front of his apartment building, the air 
between them crackles with even more tension, 
and she wonders if she's made a mistake in coming 
home with him.

What if when they go upstairs, the words he says 
are even colder than before, his eyes even darker? 

Where will she go if it all becomes too much?

She doesn't know.

All she knows is that she doesn't think she 
wants to be in this car with him anymore and 
she doesn't want to think about Diana or the 
X-files or anything else for that matter.

She just wants to go home.

He turns the engine off then, opens the door, 
and starts to get out of the car, but she stops 
him with her words.

"I can't do this," she says, forcing herself to 
look into his eyes. "I thought I could do this, 
I thought I wanted to talk...but I can't, Mulder. 
I can't..." she stutters, rubbing her forehead, 
then turning away from him again. 

Lifting his leg back into the car, he calmly 
closes the door, then suddenly slams his hand 
against the steering wheel, the crack of his 
palm loud and harsh in the dark. "Damn it, 
Scully, what do you want from me?" he asks, 
his voice tight, the tension in his body even 
tighter. 

What does she want from him?

An apology? A confession? A promise that he'll 
never hurt her again?

Or does she simply need him to hold her and tell
her that everything's going to be all right?

Moments later when she catches her breath, she 
forces herself to look over at the man beside 
her, the man whose life has become hers, and it 
is then that she knows.

There's really only one thing she wants from him
right now, one thing she needs tonight, no matter 
how painful it may be.

Tears welling up in her eyes, hands crossed in 
her lap, she whispers, "I want the truth."

~~~~

"I'll tell you the truth if you're think you're 
ready to hear it," he says in a gruff voice, 
opening the door again and getting out.

But this time he doesn't let her stop him and he 
doesn't look back as he stands up, closes the 
door.

And walks away.

Watching him as he heads toward the entrance of
his building, his lean body gracefully walking 
up the sidewalk, she's too stunned to move.

She wanted to not be in the car with him anymore, 
to go home and not have to deal with any of this, 
but now that he's left her, the ache she felt in 
her heart before tugs even harder, burns even 
more.

Just who the hell does he think he is anyway?

It wasn't enough that he dismissed everything 
she had to say about Diana and the fact that 
she was making things too personal.

Now he ditched her and left her in the dark.

Again.

Part of her is furious at him for coming to the
bar tonight and saying he was sorry when now he
doesn't appear to be sorry at all.

And then there's the other part. 

The part of her that wants so desperately to 
understand his connection to Diana so she can 
put it behind her and make things right between 
them.

But is she strong enough to go up to his apartment 
and hash things out when her emotions are all over 
the place?

She wants to get out of the car, to walk through
the door with her head held high and calmly and
rationally talk things over with him.

She wants to look him right in the eye and ask
him why he continues to believe in a woman who
obviously only wants what's best for herself and 
doesn't care about what's best for him.

But more than anything, she wants to know that 
she's the only woman in his life.

And even though it seems so high-schoolish to 
feel this way, she can't help it.

She's the one who's been his partner the last 
six years.

She's the one who's the first number on his cell
phone's speed dial, the one who's listed as the
person to notify if there's an emergency.

She's the one he traveled halfway around the 
world to save, the one he owes everything to.

The one he wanted to kiss.

Eight months later, when she closes her eyes, 
she can still see the way he looked at her in 
the hallway, still feel the heat radiating from 
his body as he moved closer and closer to her 
lips. 

And she can still feel her own body hum when she
thinks of that night.

So why doesn't she just get out of the damn car
and go to him?

Because he's the one who walked away from her. 
He's the one who needs to apologize for his 
behavior and explain himself.

And he's the one who hurt her, which means that 
he should be the one to make the first move.

Right?

Wrong.

No matter how long she sits in this car, no matter
how long she's willing to wait, she knows he's not 
going to come back outside.

And it is that fact that pisses her off all over
again.

The next thing she knows she's out of the car and
she's walking walking walking and the cold night
air is stinging her face and tears are stinging
her eyes and she doesn't know what she's going to
say when she gets upstairs or how she's going to
say it.

She just knows she has to make the hurting stop.

And so she keeps on walking, right into the lobby
and over to the elevator.

And as she steps inside, she keeps telling herself 
that she can do this, that she can be honest with 
him if he's honest with her.

Seconds later, when she's four floors above the 
ground with no place else to go but forward, 
she's still telling herself that as she gets out 
of the elevator and begins the long slow walk 
down the hallway.

The same hallway where he looked into her eyes 
and told her she made him a whole person.

The same hallway where everything changed.

And now as she stands in front of his door, she 
knows that everything between them is about to 
change again.

She feels it, and God help her, she wants it.

Lifting her hand, she closes her eyes, and knocks.

~~~~

"Who is it?" he asks from the other side of the 
door even though she's certain that he already 
knows it's her. 
 
"We need to talk, Mulder," she says firmly. "And 
unless you want all your neighbors to hear your 
business I suggest you open this door." 
 
But he doesn't, instead inviting her to. "It's 
unlocked," he says, his voice sounding even more  
muffled than it did before. 
 
Taking a deep breath, she turns the knob and 
slowly opens the door, still not sure of what 
she's going to say once she goes inside. 
 
He's already back in the living room and sitting  
on the couch by the time she closes the door, 
and though he obviously wants her to come over 
by him and sit down, she doesn't think she wants 
to. 
 
Not yet. 
 
And so she stands in the dark by the table 
instead, one hand squeezing the bottom edge of 
her coat, the other hand gripping the edge of 
the table for support. 
 
"So, tell me the truth, Mulder. Tell me the truth 
you think I can't handle," she demands, though 
she doesn't raise her voice or let him see the 
way her hands are beginning to shake. 
 
He stands up from the couch then and walks towards  
where she's standing, stopping just inches away  
from her. 
 
"You want the truth, Scully?" he asks, his eyes  
focused directly on hers.  
 
Does she? 
 
She thought she did. She was certain that she  
did, but now that he's standing in the dark right  
in front of her, anger and frustration radiating  
from every pore in his body, she's not so sure. 
 
Still, she needs to know, needs to understand,  
and so she nods her head. 
 
"Well, here it is." He nervously looks down at  
the floor, then up at her. "Diana and I used to  
be married," he says quietly before walking away  
from her again, back into the living room. 
 
His words hit her like a knife to the gut and  
before she knows it her whole body's shaking and  
her knees are buckling and she can't breathe she  
can't breathe she can't breathe... 
 
He was married. 
 
He can save her and trust her and respect her 
and tell her she makes him a whole person, but 
he married someone else.  
 
He married someone else, and he didn't tell her  
about it for six years. 
 
Six damn years. 
 
How could he be so cruel? 
 
All this time, he's trusted her with his life,  
but he couldn't trust her with his past. 
 
How screwed up is that? 
 
Then again, everything about him and her 
willingness to keep following him into the dark 
no matter how many times they both get hurt is 
completely illogical, so why not this too? 
 
"Scully?" he says, his soft voice disrupting all  
the thoughts swirling around in her head. "Are  
you okay?" 
 
Of course, she's not okay. 
 
She's not okay with the fact that he was once  
married and neglected to tell her about it until  
now. 
 
She's not okay with the way he's probably expecting 
her to understand his reasons for keeping it from 
her. 
 
And she's sure as hell not okay with the way his  
hand's gently touching her arm now, the way the  
heat from his body is washing off him in waves  
and sweeping over her, drowning her, and she 
can't breathe again she can't breathe... 
 
But just as he's lied to her, she can lie to him. 
 
"I'm okay," she replies as she lowers herself 
down into the chair. "I'm okay," she whispers 
again, trying to convince herself. 
 
"No, you're not," he says, softly touching her  
arm again. "Let me get you some water," he adds  
as he starts to move towards the kitchen. 
 
But she doesn't need water. 
 
She just needs the truth. 
 
"I don't want any water," she says, clasping her 
hands on top of the placemat in front of her and  
trying not to look into his eyes. "I just want  
to know one thing, Mulder." 
 
He pulls out the chair next to hers and sits 
down. "Okay." 
 
Keeping her eyes straightforward, she swallows,  
licks her lips, swallows again, then softly asks,  
"Do you still love her?" 
 
~~~~

She doesn't know what to do with her hands.

Right now they're clasped together and resting 
on the table, but she's squeezing her fingers 
so tightly that her fingers are turning white 
and if she doesn't stop squeezing them and find 
something else to do with them they're going to 
go numb.

Then again, her heart's already numb, so why not 
her hands too?

He was married to Diana.

He actually cared enough about her to go out and 
get a marriage license so they could officially 
become husband and wife.

Did he love her?

There's no doubt in her mind that he did, simply 
because he's Mulder, and the Mulder she knows 
always does things with passion and commitment.

But does he still love her?

That is the $64,000 question, and that is why she 
doesn't know what to do with her hands.

And why every muscle, every nerve in her body is 
crackling right now.

"I did once...but not anymore," he finally answers 
as he stands up from the table.

She lets go of her hands then, lets go of the air 
in her lungs.

He doesn't love Diana anymore.

He did once, but he doesn't now.

Of course, she still wants to hear more of what
he has to say, but for now she simply wants to 
take a few seconds to let those three words sink 
in, sink down inside the deepest part of her.

But not anymore...but not anymore...

"Feel better now, Scully?" he asks, his tone of
voice sharper than it was just moments ago.

"What?"

"I want to know if you're happy now, knowing that 
she's no longer a part of my life," he says harshly, 
pushing his chair back under the table. "That is 
what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"

That *is* what she wanted to hear, but why is he
suddenly being such an ass about it?

"I don't understand," she replies, slowly standing 
up from her chair so she won't feel so small next
to him.

"What don't you understand, Scully? You asked me 
a question. I answered it. What more do you need 
to know?" he snaps, then starts walking back into 
the living room.

What does she need to know? 

That his marriage to Diana was a failure before 
it even began? That what happened with her would 
never happen to them if they were ever to get 
married?

That despite the way he acted towards her earlier
that night, she's the one he loves now?

Or does she simply need him to be honest with her?

She follows him into the living room, but doesn't
sit down on the couch beside him not because she
doesn't want to, but because everything about his
body language is telling her that she shouldn't.

And so she sits in the chair on the other side of
the coffee table, and she tells him what she feels.

"I need to know why you were so cold towards me 
before, why you dismissed everything I said about 
Diana back at the Gunmen's place...and why you 
didn't trust me," she states matter-of-factly.

So, there it is. Right out there on the table for
him to deal with or to push aside.

Again.

Rubbing his hand back and forth over the arm of 
the couch, he thinks a moment, then replies, 
"But I didn't dismiss you, Scully. I listened 
to everything you said."

"Was that before or after you told me I was 
making things personal?" she retorts.

He looks over at her, bites his bottom lip. "I 
told you before that I was sorry for that, and I 
am...but you don't understand."

"Then help me, Mulder. Help me understand why 
you refused to even consider that what I was 
saying about Diana was true."

"It's not that simple, Scully." He leans forward,
rests his forearms on his legs, nervously plays 
with his fingers. 

"But it can be," she says, suddenly feeling more 
in control than she has all night. She gets up 
from the chair then and moves over to the couch 
beside him. "All you have to do is talk to me,"
she adds, resting her hand on his arm. "Just 
talk to me."

She knows she's taking a big risk here, knows 
that she's opening herself up to something that 
might hurt, but damn it, he owes her the truth 
about what happened between him and Diana.

And she's not going to leave until she gets it.

He looks down at her hand on his arm, squeezes
her fingers, then leans back against the cushion
and lets out a long sigh. 

"I'll tell you what you want to know," he says
softly.

And then he begins.

~~~~

She never expected to be sitting on a couch with
Mulder listening to him tell the story of his
marriage to Diana.

She never expected to hear him tell her about 
the way he proposed to her, about how they kept 
their wedding a secret and didn't even tell their 
families about it.

And she sure as hell never expected him to tell
her not only about all their successes while 
working together on the X-files, but also about 
how much he relied on her.

Yet here he is, his hands clenched around a 
pillow, telling her everything she wanted to 
know and everything she didn't.

Everything, that is, except for why.

If Diana was so wonderful to be with and to work 
with, why did they get divorced? 

Was it what she wanted, or did he fight to keep 
their marriage together?

And if he is the one who wanted to make things 
work and she didn't, why does he still believe 
in her after all these years?

"Scully? Did you hear what I said?" he asks, his
voice interrupting her reverie.

Embarrassed that he caught her not listening, she 
looks down at her hands, clears her throat, "No, 
I'm sorry I didn't."

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in right now,
but you wanted to know the truth."

"You're right, I did. It's just that...it's just
not the easiest thing for me to hear, Mulder."

Talk about an understatement.

Listening to him talk about how much he and Diana
loved each other and about how well they worked
together on the X-Files was more difficult for 
her to hear than she thought it would be.

Still, she wanted to hear it. All of it.

"I know it's hard," he says, letting go of the 
now stretched-out pillow and setting it down 
on the table in front of him. "But it's hard
for me too, rehashing a part of my life that 
I've tried to put behind me."

"But that's just it, Mulder. You could've made 
it easier on both of us by telling me all of 
this years ago."

"I wanted to. When she first came back to town,
when we were all working on the Gibson Praise 
case, I wanted to tell you that we'd shared a 
past, but there was never a good time, not with 
all that was going on."

"There was time. You just didn't want to deal
with it," she argues.

"You're right, I didn't."

As hard as she'd been trying to listen to what
he had to say before drawing any conclusions, it
had been even harder not to let her anger get the
best of her.

But now...now she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"So you just let me wonder about Diana instead?
I didn't know who she was or where she came from,
and then I had to find out from her, not *you*, 
that the two of you used to work together.  How 
do you think that made me feel, Mulder?"

"That was months ago, Scully."

"And it was *years* ago that you should've told
me about her."

"Why? Why should I have told you about her then?"
he argues. "It's not like we were involved at 
the time."

He might as well have stuck a knife in her belly
and twisted it rather than say that, anything 
but that. 

"Not involved? How can you say that...to *me*, 
Mulder? After all we've been through, after all 
we've seen. We've been involved from the moment 
we met," she angrily counters, suddenly standing 
up from the couch. "And if you can't see that, 
well then..." she sputters as she starts heading 
towards the door.

She doesn't finish her thoughts then, doesn't 
tell him that if she stays here with him any 
longer, she'll say too much, she'll let him in 
too deep, and despite the fact that she thought 
she was ready to, she just can't do it.

And she can't listen to him say anything else 
about Diana right now either.

"Then what, Scully? You'll run away from me like
you usually do?" he asks, standing up too and
walking towards her.

Run away from him? What the hell's he talking
about it?

If anything, he's the one who's been keeping his
distance from her all these years.

Hasn't he?

"What is it, Scully? Are you afraid that if we 
keep talking, you might say something that'll 
let me know how you really feel?"

Was that what she was doing? 

Pulling away from him, not because she didn't 
want to listen to what he had to say about Diana, 
but because she didn't want to listen to what 
her own heart was telling her about him?

She didn't know, but he's standing right in front
of her now and she wants to leave and she wants 
to stay and she can't breathe she can't breathe...

"I know what you're afraid of, Scully," he says,
his eyes dark and soft and filled with fear.

Or is it lust?

He puts his hands against the door then, one on 
each side of her and she can't move she can't 
move and she can't say anything either.

"I'm afraid of the same thing," he says softly, 
leaning in even closer to her face and if she 
doesn't tell him to stop right now he's going 
to try to kiss her like he did in his hallway 
last summer, but she doesn't tell him to stop 
and she doesn't tell herself to move.

"Tell me to stop, Scully, and I will," he whispers, 
cupping his hands around her face and lightly 
caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "Tell me 
that this isn't what you want."

But it is what she wants.

And God help her, it's what she *needs*.

"Tell me," he whispers again, his face so close
to hers now, she's burning she's burning she's
burning...

She wants to tell him that this is wrong, that 
they need to talk more, that they need to think 
this through, but right now she doesn't want to 
think or talk or try to rationalize anything.

She just wants him.

"I don't want you to stop," she whispers back.

And he doesn't, hungrily pressing his lips against 
hers for the first time. 

~~~~

She's flying.

No, she's soaring and she's dizzy and her knees 
feel weak her cheeks warm and every nerve in her 
body is sizzling.

Mulder is kissing her and she's kissing him back 
and though she knows she should stop before things 
go too far she can't stop and she doesn't want 
him to stop either and just how did his hand get 
up underneath her blouse anyway?

"Mul...der..." she says, trying to stay on her 
feet and breathe at the same time.

Completely ignoring her half-hearted attempt at 
saying his name, he nips at the side of her neck, 
slides his hand dangerously close to her breasts.

"We...need to...stop..." she says in between his
kisses, trying to be the rational level-headed 
partner when what she really wants is to be the 
impulsive reckless one.

"I can't," he gasps, letting his fingers trickle
down her bare back. "I can't...stop," he says
again, kissing her chin, her neck, the sensitive
spot behind her ear.

And she can't stop either, and so they don't, 
their hands touching their mouths tasting as 
they awkwardly make their way to the bedroom.

Once inside, she feels even dizzier and even 
more unsteady on her feet, but she doesn't care 
and she doesn't want to stop.

She just wants him.

Despite his past, despite her fears, despite the
fact that this will change everything between
them, she wants him.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, moving her
across the room and unbuttoning her blouse at
the same time.

She touches his cheek, brushes her fingers across
his lips. "Yes."

He pulls her blouse off her shoulders then, lets
it fall to the floor. His mouth drops open, his
breathing quickens. "Wow..." he says, gently
touching her arms, the lace trim on her bra, the 
scar on her stomach. 

"Does it hurt?" he asks, the hungry look in his 
eyes suddenly replaced with guilt and regret.

"It's not your fault, Mulder," she answers, 
knowing how his mind works, knowing that he's 
thinking now about how he should've been at
Fellig's apartment that night, and how if anyone 
had to take a bullet in the stomach it should've 
been him.

"Does it hurt?" he asks again, tentatively tracing
around the bright red scar with his finger.

"Sometimes," she replies, lifting his hand away 
from her stomach and bringing it up to her lips. 
She kisses it, then pulls him into her arms. 
"But not now," she says, burying her head into 
his chest.

"I should've been there, Scully." He strokes her
hair, rubs her back. "I should've gotten there 
in time."

And she should've called for backup instead of
going inside Fellig's apartment alone that night, 
but after all she'd seen and heard, she just had 
to know if what he was saying about living all
those years was true.

She remembers telling him that most people want 
to live forever and that there's too much to
learn and experience in life to want to throw
it all away.

And she remembers asking him about love.

"Love lasts 75 years, if you're lucky. You don't 
want to be around if it's gone," he'd told her. 
At the time, she didn't believe him, and standing 
here with Mulder's arms around her, she didn't 
believe it now.

Love could last forever, she was certain of it.

"I'm sorry, Scully," he says, still stroking her
hair, his chest warm and smooth against her cheek. 
"I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay, Mulder," she says, interrupting him 
before he can heap even more guilt upon himself. 
"*I'm* okay." 

She steps back from his embrace, looks up at him. 
"And I'm okay with this," she says, sliding her 
hands under his shirt and slowly lifting it up 
over his head.

She feels his body tremble at the intimacy of her
touch, feels the heat from his skin burning the
tips of her fingers.

And she quickly feels her own body begin to hum, 
not with the urgent desire to have sex, but with 
a quiet contentment she's never known before.

Is this what it feels like to let herself love
someone completely?

She used to wonder, but now she thinks she knows.

Meeting his lips in a kiss, she slips her hand
into his and follows him to bed.

~~~~

When she wakes up, she doesn't know where she is.

Lazily rolling onto her left side the way she 
does every morning, she blinks her eyes, looks 
over at the unfamiliar clock radio on the night 
stand, then down at the comforter covering her 
legs.

It's not her bed.

Her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, she 
sees that it's a little after 3:00, and then she 
sees him.

Mulder.

Her friend, her partner, her protector.

And now, her lover.

He's sitting in the chair across the room, staring
out the window, and though her first instinct is
to get out of bed and go to him, she doesn't.

Instead, she simply watches him.

She's seen him like this before, off in a faraway 
place where no one can touch him, but unlike the 
other times, she can also see that it's not the 
same dark place he usually goes to.

No, this time it's different because she's right 
there with him.

Sliding her hand over the curves of his hips. 
Kissing his chest, his neck, the inside of his
left thigh. Arching her back as he weaves a trail 
of kisses between her breasts, over her scar, 
then down down down until she feels the most 
exquisite release. 

It was what she thought it'd be like the first
time, connecting with him in the most intimate 
of ways and though she'd been unsure of her
place in his life when the night first began, 
there is no question in her mind about what her 
place is now.

She is his, and he is hers.

It's so simple, really, and yet their lives 
outside this room couldn't be more complicated 
right now.

So, what happens next?

She doesn't know, but lying here in his bed, his 
comforter covering her legs, his scent covering 
her everywhere else, she doesn't want to think 
about it.

She just wants him.

And so she climbs out of bed, slips one of his 
t-shirts on, and goes to him.

"Hey," she says, putting her hands on his shoulders
from behind, then sliding them onto his chest as 
she leans down closer to his ear. "Are you going
to come back to bed, or am I going to have to drag
you there?" she gently teases. 

He takes hold of her hands, rubs his cheek against
hers. "Do I have a choice?"

"Maybe..." She nuzzles his neck, kisses it. "You 
okay?"

Letting go of her hands, he grabs her right arm 
and swings her around the chair and in front of 
him so she's standing in between his legs. 

And then he touches her, moving his fingers 
underneath the hem of the shirt, over her panties,
and up under the swell of her breast.
 
And she lets him.

"I'm okay," he replies, leaning forward and softly
kissing her stomach.

His arms wrapped around her now, his mouth pressed 
against her, she feels her body shiver, but she 
isn't cold.

And she isn't afraid.

Not anymore.

"So am I," she whispers into his hair as she moves
closer.

He holds onto her even tighter then, and she can
feel him breathing, feel the blush spread across 
her cheeks, the heat rush between her legs. "Let's 
go back to bed," she suggests softly.

Feeling his arousal too, she expects him to stand 
up now and lead her there the same way he did last 
night, but he doesn't, instead standing up and 
looking away from her out the window. "I've been 
thinking about what we talked about last night," 
he says, pressing his hand to the window. "And I
realized I never really gave you an answer."

"Never gave me an answer? About what?" she asks,
confused by the sudden change in his mood, but
sensing his need to talk.

He rubs his thumb back and forth across the glass
as he looks out at the moon, then turns to her. 
"About Diana," he quietly replies. 

"Oh," she says, her body tensing up at the mention 
of the name.

He goes over to the bed then and sits down on the 
end of it, quietly picks at the thread on the 
comforter.  "You asked me why I didn't want to 
believe what you said about her before, and I want 
to tell you...if you're ready to listen."

Telling her about Diana is something she's wanted 
from him for a long time, but after hearing him
talk about his marriage last night, is she really 
ready to hear more? 

And what about what happened between them last 
night? Will what he has to say change the way she 
feels about him?

She already knows the answer to these questions,
already knows what she feels in her heart, yet 
she can't make the tight feeling in her chest go 
away.

And she can't truly move forward with their
relationship until she understands just what it 
was that he and Diana had together all those 
years ago.

And so she does what she needs to do.

Calmly walking across the room, she sits down on
the edge of the bed beside him and replies, "I'm
listening."

~~~~

"Do you remember Phoebe Green?" he finally asks 
after what seems like several minutes of silence.

Phoebe Green? Where did that name come from?

"I remember."

She also remembers what he said all those years
ago about how he got in over his head with her 
and paid the price for it.

Was that what he wanted to tell her now? That he
got in over his head with Diana too?

He lets out a sigh and begins. "Back when we were 
involved at Oxford, I was absolutely fascinated 
by her. The way she talked, the way her mind 
worked, and how she was able to get anyone to do 
what she wanted."

"Like you," she remarks.

He nods his head. "Yes, like me. She called all 
the shots and I let her, and even though I knew 
it wasn't the way a relationship was supposed 
to work, I was okay with it...for awhile."

"But then you decided that you'd had enough and
broke it off," she says, trying to figure out 
just what it was he was trying to tell her and 
what it had to do with Diana.

"No." He stands up from the bed, walks back over 
to the window again. "One night I saw her having 
dinner at a restaurant with another guy."

"Oh."

"I thought it was just a one-time thing, you know,
that she was feeling lonely because I'd been too 
busy with my studies to spend time with her, and 
she needed someone to talk to, but then I caught 
her again with a different guy." He looks down at 
the floor, then adds, "At her apartment."

"I'm sorry."

"And a third time with one of my friends."

"Mulder..."

She knew the first time she met Phoebe in the 
parking lot that day that she was trouble, but 
she had no idea that she'd hurt Mulder in such 
a cruel way.

She also knew that she'd never do that to him.

Ever.

She gets up from the bed then, walks over to him,
puts her arms around his waist. "I'm so sorry,
Mulder," she says softly, closing her eyes as
she rests her head against his chest.

"Don't be. I made a foolish mistake, and I paid
for it," he says, hugging her, then letting go.

"But you shouldn't have had to. No one deserves
to be treated like that."

"I know that now, but at the time, I wanted to 
be loved and accepted by someone so badly that 
I was willing to put up with just about anything."

She looks up at the man standing in front of 
her, the same brilliant, impulsive, stubborn, 
kind-hearted man that she trusts with her life, 
and her heart aches.

"But that's not what love is, Mulder," she says, 
putting her hand on his cheek, then letting her 
fingers slide over his jaw.

"This is what it is," she whispers as she continues 
her journey down to his chest, gently pressing her 
hand against the spot where his heart is.  "It all 
happens right here."

She can actually feel it pulsating beneath her 
fingertips, feel her own heart beating faster, 
and it is then that she realizes it doesn't 
matter what else he tells her about his past.

And it doesn't matter what he still needs to tell 
her about Diana.

All that matters is now.

~~~~

She loves him, and he loves her. Of that, she is
certain, and though she's not quite able to say 
it out loud to him yet, she knows that some time
tonight she will.

She feels it.

She also knows that he hasn't told her everything
yet, that his story about Phoebe is leading to
something else, and though she was afraid to hear
what he had to say earlier, she isn't afraid now.

And so she asks him what she needs to know.

"So, what about Diana? Where does she fit in with
all of this?" she asks, hoping that he'll be as
straightforward with his answer as he was with
what he said about Phoebe.

"She was different," he replies simply. "And unlike
Phoebe, she was faithful to me...and to the X-Files."

She'd wondered how long it was going to take him 
to bring up Diana's loyalty to the X-Files, and 
now she knew.

Still, she couldn't help feeling a little envious
at the mention of it.

"When I met Diana, I had just graduated from the
Academy and was full of ideas about what I wanted 
to do for the FBI."

"Are you sure you weren't just full of it, Mulder?"
she asks, trying not only to lighten the mood, but
also trying to diffuse the twinge of jealousy she 
was feeling.

He takes hold of her hand and smiles. "I'm always 
full of *something*, Scully," he says, leading her 
across the room again, but this time sitting down
at the head of the bed instead of at the bottom 
edge.

"Well, that's true," she remarks, watching him
tuck his long legs back under the covers, then
doing the same thing with her much shorter ones.

"So, you met Diana, and then what?" she asks,
ready to hear more now that they were more
comfortably seated in bed.

He rests his hand on her leg, then answers, "We
started dating right after that...and then we
started working together, not officially with
the FBI, but on our own time."

"What do you mean, on your own time?" 

"After work, we'd go over to my place, do research,
go through old files that I'd dug up from the FBI 
archives. With my psychology background and Diana's 
para-science background, we were both fascinated 
by what we found...reports of occult activity, 
abductions, UFO's, and paranormal phenomenon that 
most people would find implausible, but that we 
couldn't seem to get enough of."

"And that's how you came across the X-Files," she
says, remembering the first time he told her about
it in a motel room back in Oregon.

She was sitting on a bed that night too as she
listened to him talk about government conspiracies
and the disappearance of his sister, but she'd only
known him for two days then.

And he'd said nothing about Diana.

The thought of her being with him when he discovered 
the X-Files sends another twinge of jealousy straight 
to her heart, but she pushes the thoughts away and 
continues to listen.

"Yes, and the more Diana and I uncovered, the more 
we wanted to know," he says. 

"That sounds familiar," she says quietly, squeezing
his hand.

"Yes, it does," he agrees as he lifts her hand to
his mouth and kisses the back of it. "Except you're 
still with me," he whispers.

'And I always will be,' she thinks as she leans
against him, rests her head against his shoulder.

"Diana believed in me, Scully. She believed in 
what I was doing, and she was one of the few people 
that didn't think I was a nut case for wanting to
pursue something that no one else did," he explains.

And she believes in him too, in what he stands for,
in his passionate need to find the truth.

"That must've meant a lot to you."

"It did. Having someone believe in you is a pretty
powerful aphrodisiac." 

'Yes, it is,' she thinks as she turns herself more 
on her side and drapes her free arm over his hip.

He lowers himself onto his side then too, puts 
his arm around her, looks into her eyes. "And 
that's why it was so hard for me before, hearing 
you say those things about her when I know what 
a good person she can be. I didn't want to believe 
that she could keep something so important from 
me...not after all we went through together."

"And it was hard for me to tell you, but I know 
how much you value the truth above everything else, 
and it wasn't fair of me to keep it from you...just 
like it's not fair of me to keep things from you 
now," she says, moving her arm off of his hip and 
bringing her hand up to his cheek.

His eyes widen at her touch. "Keep what from me?
I don't understand."

"It's true, I wanted you to know about Diana's 
past, but I didn't tell you about it just because
I thought you should know the truth about her." 

She closes her eyes, lowers her hand from his
face, then opens them again and makes herself 
look at him. "I told you because I was jealous, 
and I wanted to hurt you for not telling me 
about her...and...damn it, Mulder, I told you
because I love you," she finally admits.

There, she said it.

It was messy and uncomfortable and not at all how 
she wanted to say it, but it was done, and there 
was nothing she could do to take it back.

She could get out of the bed though.

She could grab her clothes and get the hell out
of there before he could tell her how selfish
and petty she'd been.

Or she could make herself look at him again 
and face what he had to say about her awkward
confession.

But she chooses to do neither, instead deciding
to sit up in bed with her back turned to him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you like that." 
She looks down at the sheet, rubs her thumb back 
and forth over the pattern on it. "It's just 
that...you've been honest about your feelings 
with me...and I needed to be honest too."

She feels his eyes staring at her from behind, 
feels his hand touch her lower back, then the 
mattress shifting as he sits up and turns to 
face her.

Her heart constricts in her chest, her grip on
the sheet tightens as she searches his eyes and
waits for him to say something, anything...

"You didn't tell me anything I didn't already 
know, Scully," he finally says, gently pushing 
her hair off her face.

What? He already knew?

"I've known how you felt about me for a long time.
I was just waiting for you to say it," he says as
he tenderly strokes her hair.

"But I told you those things about Diana, knowing 
that it would hurt you," she argues. 

"And I didn't tell you about my past with her when 
she first came back to town, knowing that it would 
hurt *you*," he counters.  He squeezes her fingers 
then and smiles. "So, I guess that makes us even 
then, huh?"

"I guess it does...in a sick, twisted sort of way," 
she replies, letting herself smile back at him.

"Ooo...that's my favorite kind of way, Scully," he 
says, pressing a kiss to her temple, then pulling 
her into his arms.

She doesn't know what to say to this sudden turn
of events or what to think about his admission
of not wanting to hurt her, but she knows that 
what she's feeling for him right now is real.

It's painful and it's complicated and the most 
exhilarating relationship she's ever been involved 
in, and though she knows there's more to be said
and more to work through, for the first time in
a long time she's okay with that.

Diana was a part of his life, a big part, but 
she's the one in his life now, and she's the one 
he wants to share his quest with.

And for now, that's enough for her.

"You know, after you left the Gunmen's place last
night, I went to see Diana," he suddenly confesses, 
pulling back from their embrace.

"Oh?" 

"And you were right about her, Scully. She lied to
me about what she's been doing all those years...
and about her involvement with CGB Spender," he 
says sadly.

If he would've told her that last night when he 
first came to the bar and apologized, she would've 
taken victory in the fact that she was right about 
Diana.

And then she would've taken a drink to celebrate.

But now, she feels victorious in something simpler.

He's not holding anything back from her anymore.

"She's also been involved with the Smoking Man and 
the conspiracy to cover up what's happening with 
Cassandra Spender," he admits, though she doesn't
take any joy in hearing that either.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," she says sincerely, giving 
his arm a quick squeeze.

"So am I," he says, softly squeezing her leg in 
return. "But I'm not sorry about what happened 
between us tonight because of it."

"Neither am I," she says, yawning as she nestles
herself in the crook of his arm.

There's a comfortable silence between them then,
but after all the emotional ups and downs she's 
had tonight, she welcomes it.

At least for a little while anyway.

So, what happens next?" she asks, breaking the
silence as she sleepily traces a path along the
waistband of his pajama bottoms. "I mean, there's 
so much going on right now that we need to deal 
with. Cassandra, the rebels, CGB Spender..."

He slides himself down further on the bed, taking
her with him, then pulling the covers up over them. 
"I know there is, but it's been a long night, and 
we need to get some sleep."

"And in the morning?" she asks, her voice drowsy, 
her eyelids heavy.

He kisses her temple, then her cheek, and whispers
in her ear, "In the morning...we save the world."

Her eyes closed now, she lets his words wash over
her, lets his warm body surround her, and as she 
drifts off to sleep, she feels stronger than she 
ever has.

And she believes.


~end~


Wow, I actually started AND finished a WIP in 
seven weeks. Is that cool or what? <g>

Thanks so much for sticking with me on this. It 
was truly a pleasure to write, and if you found 
it a pleasure to read, I sure would love to know 
that. My inbox is open 24 hours a day... 
touchstone98@tx.rr.com

possibilities
http://possiblities.bravehost.com/



Started November 2005. Completed December 2005.