What's the Use of Wond'rin' 
By:  Tess
E-mail:  tnv099@aol.com
Distribution:  Please ask first.  
Spoilers:  Mentions FTF,  The Beginning, Triangle & The Unnatural
Rating:   R/NC-17
Content:  SAR
Keywords:  MSR
Disclaimer:  Characters mentioned herein are the sole property of
CC, 1013 and Fox.  No money is being made.  This is strictly a
hobby.   I borrowed some dialogue from the show.  You all know
what's mine and what isn't.  The song What's the Use of Wond'rin
isn't mine.   It belongs to Rodgers & Hammerstein.
Summary:   In the aftermath of FTF, Mulder makes a big decision
http://acovington.home.mindspring.com/tess/index.html


At the behest of my archivist, please note that flashbacks
contained in this story are set off by a series of ***


What's The Use of Wond'rin'


What's the use of wond'rin'
if he's good or if he's bad
or if you like the way he wears his hat
Oh! what's the use of wond'rin
if he's good or if he's bad?
He's your feller and you love him
That's all there is to that

Common sense may tell you
that the ending will be sad
And now's the time to break and run away
Oh! what's the use of wond'rin
if the ending will be sad?
He's your feller and you love him
There's nothin' more to say

Somethin' made him the way that he is
Whether he's false or true
And something gave him the things that are his
One of those things is you

So, when he wants your kisses
you will give them to the lad
And anywhere he leads you, you will walk
And anytime he needs you, 
you'll go running there like mad!
You're his girl and he's your feller
And all the rest is "talk"

     Rodgers & Hammerstein "Carousel"

What's The Use of Wond'rin
By:  Tess
E-mail:  tnv099@aol.com


Chapter One

She glanced at the tiny clock on the bottom of her computer
screen.  He was late, but she wasn't worried.  Since their
reassignment, he was rarely on time.

She smoothed a trembling hand over her stomach, trying in vain to
calm herself.  She was nervous.  She couldn't believe it.  Waiting
for Mulder, she was nervous.  

She could hear the low rumble of his voice as he made his way down
the hall.  He stood in the doorway of the bullpen.  Her eyes
dropped nervously to her desktop before raising back up to his.
She studied him as he walked the short distance to their desks.
His lips were still slightly swollen and she could see the faint
mark of a bruise peeking above the collar of his white shirt.  No
one else would know to look for it, but she knew.  She had put it
there.

"Hi," she murmured softly, shyly--suddenly unsure how to act
around him.

"Hey," he replied, opening a desk drawer and rifling through it
distractedly.  "Sorry I'm late.  I had a couple of things to take
care of before coming in," he grunted, tugging at a stubborn file
folder stuck in the bottom drawer.  The folder popped free and he
opened it, flipping through the papers hidden inside of it.  

"That's okay.  I barely made it in on time myself."  She lowered
her voice.  "It was a late night."

She waited, watching him expectantly for the leer she was sure
would be coming.

"Hmmm?" he asked, his nose buried in the folder.  He lifted his
head, shaking it slightly before replying.  "Oh yeah...um, listen.
I...uh...I have to go out of town for the rest of the day.  I
probably won't be back tonight. I...I...I'll call you later to let
you know when I'll be back.  We...we can talk then, okay?"

She studied him in confusion.  "Mulder?  What? Where are you..."

"Fox?  Are you ready?"

Scully's head turned sharply at the sound of the other person's
voice.

"I'll be right there Diana," he called.  He dropped the folder
onto Scully's desk.  "This is a list of the people I called before
we were sent to Dallas, but I didn't have a chance to type up the
report.  It was due, like yesterday.  Do you think you might be
able to squeeze it in for me today?"

She blinked, dazed, unable to speak.  He seemed to take her
silence for acquiescence because he nodded and headed toward the
waiting Diana.  "Thanks!" he tossed over his shoulder.  "I'll call
you and if you have any questions--you know the number!"  Diana
smiled up at him as he murmured softly to her, settling his hand
on the small of her back and ushering her out of the door.


Chapter Two


Scully waited all day for him to call, jumping every time the
phone rang.  She was sitting on her sofa, a light cotton throw
tossed over her legs, warding off the chill of the air-conditioned
room.  Her cell phone rested in her lap and she had icy fingers
wrapped around a mug of tea.

Hours ticked by and still he didn't call.  Fear and worry over his
earlier behavior had her stomach jumping with nerves as she
dragged herself into the bathroom.  She brushed her teeth
mechanically and washed the remaining traces of makeup from her
face.  Splashing cold water over her face, she raised her eyes to
her reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror.  Eyes, which just
this morning had sparkled with joy, now gazed back at her filled
with trepidation.  She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged
it to the floor, then reached behind her back to release the catch
of her bra.  Peeling the straps down her arms, she hesitated and
then tossed it onto her discarded shirt.  She raised trembling
fingers to trace the curve of her left breast and the abrasions
and marks left by his beard and mouth.

"Mulder," she whispered, aching for him to call her; to reassure
her that everything was okay.  She turned from the mirror,
switching off the light as she passed into her bedroom.  She
quickly changed into her pajamas and slid beneath the sheets of
her bed.  She turned onto her side and drew the other pillow into
her arms.  She inhaled deeply.  She could still smell him, *them*
on the soft cotton.

Rolling onto her back, her thoughts raced back to the previous
evening.

*********

She studied his earnest face carefully, well aware that her choice
of words would decide the next chapter in their lives.

"Mulder, I'll be a doctor, but my work is here with you now," she
had told him.  She took his hand into her own, squeezing it
fiercely.  "Look," she said.  "If I quit now, they win."

The barely perceptible smile that crossed his lips reassured her
that she had said the right thing.  He tilted his head to the side
and led her from the Mall.  

As they walked, Scully filled him in on the details of her meeting
with Jana Cassidy and the other members of the OPR board.  He
laughed as she described Cassidy's expression when she had slapped
the tiny vial containing the bee down onto the tabletop.  Scully
tilted her head up, squinting against the setting sun, happy to
see him smiling.

"I don't believe the FBI currently has an investigative unit
qualified to pursue the evidence in hand," he mimicked gently.  He
grabbed her hand again and brought it up to his lips.  "Agent
Scully, you do have a way with words," he declared.

She ducked her head in embarrassment, a secret, pleased smile
crossing her lips before she tugged her hand free and began to
head toward the curb.  "Want to buy me dinner?" she asked.  He
arched his brows and obediently followed her across the street.

Over pizza, they discussed the ramifications of what they had
experienced during the previous week and the possibility of
regaining the X-Files.  Mulder was animated, all traces of his
earlier despondency gone.  She leaned back in her chair,
pleasantly full and happy to see that her words had apparently had
a positive impact on Mulder.  She smiled, watching him wave his
hands around excitedly as he laid out what he thought their
strategy should be.  

They walked off the pizza, strolling back to the garage where
Mulder's car was kept.  Forty minutes later, he pulled up in front
of Scully's apartment building.  She unsnapped her seatbelt and he
turned to face her, the car idling.  

"I'll call you when I get home," he said.  "Goodnight, Scully."

"Goodnight, Mulder," she replied and then impulsively leaned
across the gearshift to brush her lips across his.  He drew back,
startled...and her cheeks burned.  She dropped her eyes and took a
deep breath before looking back up at him. "Would you like to come
up for a little while?" she asked.

Mulder's eyes darted around the car for a second or two and then
he met her gaze, his lips curving up in a tiny smile.  He put the
car into gear and backed into a parking space.

Her heart was pounding as they walked down the hall to her
apartment.  Mulder had been to her home on many occasions, but
that tiny kiss in the car had changed things.  The air seemed
charged with tension.  She was happy to see that she didn't fumble
with her keys as she opened the door, the trembling in her stomach
not yet having reached her hands.

She moved into her apartment and dropped her keys on a nearby
table.  She heard him close the door behind him and throw the lock
home as she stepped out of her high-heeled shoes.  Wiggling her
toes into the carpeting, she turned around to face him.  She had
been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she had not heard him
move up behind her.  Now he was standing so close, she had to tilt
her head all the way back to make eye contact with him.

His hands lifted to gently cup her cheeks.  He held her gaze
captive with his own as he lowered his mouth to hers.  Her eyes
slipped  closed at the first brush of his lips.  His mouth settled
softly against hers and was just as quickly gone.

"Scully," he whispered.

Her eyes drifted open to find his face inches from her own, a
question lingering in his gaze.  She curved her hands around his
wrists and stretched up on her toes.  He lowered his head again
and their mouths met in another kiss.  Mulder's lips were warm as
they moved softly over hers.  They stepped closer, their bodies
brushing against each other and Scully wrapped her arms around his
neck, straining up on her toes to accommodate his greater height.
Mulder's hands dropped from her face to wrap around her waist,
supporting her weight as he tugged her body flush against his own.
She sighed against his mouth and Mulder took advantage of the
moment, sliding his tongue between her parted lips and running it
along the barrier of her teeth, seeking entrance.  She sighed
again, sealing her mouth to his and welcoming the invasion of his
tongue, sucking on it gently as it swept inside and then chasing
it back into his mouth, where she did a little exploring of her
own.

Mulder groaned and broke off the kiss, panting lightly as his
mouth moved over her cheek.  She lowered her hands and unfastened
the button of his suit jacket, pushing the fine Italian fabric off
his shoulders and onto the floor.  She tugged at the knot of his
tie, loosening it so that the ends dangled around his neck.
Mulder's hands, fumbling with the buttons of her jacket, stilled
as she popped open the top two buttons of his blue dress shirt and
pressed her lips in an open-mouthed kiss against his throat.  His
Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively and he felt her
lips curve into a smile against his skin.

He gathered his scattered wits enough to finish opening her jacket
and he quickly tugged it off, where it fell to the floor to join
his.  He skimmed his hands down her arms, linking their fingers as
his mouth sought hers in another kiss.  He released her hands and
Scully groaned as he deepened the kiss, her head falling back onto
her shoulders as he closed one hand gently around her throat, his
long fingers holding her jaw captive as his tongue plundered her
mouth.  Her fingers clutched at his shoulders for balance and he
splayed his other hand against her back, supporting her.

She tore her mouth free, gasping for air to fill her aching lungs,
shuddering as his mouth closed over her earlobe, his teeth biting
down sharply on the soft flesh, worrying the tiny gold stud
adorning her ear.

Determined to wrestle back some control over the situation - after
all, she had started it with that impulsive kiss in the car - she
quickly opened the remaining buttons on his shirt and tugged it
free of his pants.  She trailed her hands whisper-soft over his
sides, fingertips dancing along his ribs.  Her fingers played over
the tiny male nipples until they stood erect and he hissed out a
breath when she lapped at one with her tongue.  His hands tangled
in her hair as he pressed her closer, encouraging her to continue
her ministrations and her tongue left a hot, wet trail across his
chest as she latched onto the other nipple.

She stepped back as he pulled the hem of her sweater from the
waistband of her skirt and obediently raised her arms into the air
as he swept the sweater over her head.  He lifted his hands to
smooth her hair and she closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to
her forehead.  Pulling back, he stared at her, smiling slightly as
he noted the dilated pupils and softly unfocused blue of her eyes.
She smiled back, grasping the open sides of his shirt, pulling him
down onto the floor with her.  Mulder propped himself up on his
elbows, one hand cupping the back of her head, trailing the
knuckles of his other hand down her throat.  She threaded her
fingers through his hair and pulled him back down to her.  Their
lips met in a passionate kiss.  They eased apart and Scully took
his bottom lip between her teeth, biting down softly.

"I've wanted to do that practically from the first day we met,"
she murmured.  "I could kiss you all night long."

"I hope you're planning to do a little more than just that," he
sighed against her mouth.

In reply, she curled her nylon-clad feet around the calf muscles
along the back of his legs and tilted her hips up into his.


Chapter Three

Fox Mulder sat up against the headboard.  The muted television
cast a strange glow over the room but he wasn't watching it.
Instead, he was moodily contemplating the door that led to the
connecting motel room.  Under normal circumstances, that door was
left slightly open, but circumstances weren't normal and he feared
they would never be normal again.  For it was not Scully who lay
in the bed beyond that door, but rather, it was Diana.

Mulder slid down into the bed, thumping the pillow with his fist,
trying to reshape it into something remotely resembling comfort.
He knew it wasn't the pillow or the lumpy mattress that was
hampering his sleep.  He clicked off the television and stared at
the strange shadows cast over the ceiling of his room.

*********

He had awakened that morning, blinking at the utter femininity of
the room he had slept in.  Gauzy, white curtains filtered the
morning sun's rays and he stretched his long limbs out over the
cool, cotton sheets.  His body felt heavy, sated and ached
pleasantly from the exertions of the previous night.  He studied
the woman lying peacefully beside him.  Her face was turned away
from him and he traced her profile with his eyes.  He propped
himself up on one elbow to better look at her and she stirred at
his movement, rolling her head toward him and dropping her hand
onto his thigh.  The sheet that had been covering her slipped down
to her waist, baring her to his gaze.  Her hair was a bright
tangle of red against the white pillows. Auburn brows and lashes;
swollen, reddened lips and pink-tipped breasts, the nipples soft
and velvety in repose, were the only splashes of color on her fair
skin.  He leaned forward, considered taking one of those soft tips
into his mouth, but decided to let her sleep.  They had spent most
of the night awake, wrapped in each other's arms--wrapped in each
other's bodies; and he knew she required more sleep than he.
Mulder happily went back to studying her sleeping form but his
second and more thorough examination revealed things not obvious
at first glance as her lover but which were all too obvious and
frightening through the eyes of her partner.

Faint red lines marred the smooth skin of her forehead and cheeks,
evidence of the mild case of frostbite she had suffered from.   A
bruise, now fading, had formed between her breasts marking the
place where he had frantically tried to restart her heartbeat.
His gaze traveled down to the smooth ivory of her belly and in his
mind's eye he saw those creatures gestating there in a horrific
parody of a barren womb nurturing that which sought to kill her.
His words to her of less than 24 hours earlier came back to haunt
him.  'You were right to leave me.  You should get as far away
from me as you can.  I'm not going to let you die because of some
hollow personal cause of mine.  Go be a doctor.  Go be a doctor
while you still can...'

He knew that she would never let him leave her.  He had beaten the
concepts of loyalty and trust into her too deeply.  She had
recommitted herself to him in mind and spirit yesterday when she
had taken his hand into her own. 'Mulder, I'll be a doctor, but my
work is here with you now...'  And she had committed herself to
him body and soul last night when she had taken his body into her
own time and again.

His heart breaking, he knew what he had to do.  He had to make her
want to leave him.  Slipping out of bed, he gathered his clothes
and dressed quickly.  He stopped at the doorway of the bedroom and
turned back to look at her.  Quietly crossing the room, he dropped
to his knees next to the bed.  "I love you," he mouthed against
her temple, his words barely a whisper in the air.  Standing, he
moved quickly out of the room, not looking back, missing the tiny,
sleepy smile that crossed her lips.  "I love you too," she sighed
as she tumbled back to sleep. 


Chapter Four


Scully sat in a chair in her darkened living room, her knees drawn
up to her chin.  Mulder had finally called her at work that
morning.  He told her that he was going to catch up on some
background checks that he had not gotten around to and that he
would stop by her apartment after work.

He had come over, said his piece and now he was gone.

********

She jumped at the sound of his knock.  Walking to her door, she
took a deep breath before swinging the door open.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hi," she replied, opening the door wider and beckoning him
inside.  She closed the door behind him, her eyes slipping shut
for a brief moment before she turned to face him.  Something was
wrong.  She'd had a bad feeling ever since he left the office
yesterday morning and now she was sure.  He was sitting in the
armchair and she crossed the room on leaden feet.  Sinking down
onto the sofa, she perched on the edge of the cushion.  His eyes
were sorrowful as they met hers and she shook her head in denial,
not wanting to hear what she knew he was about to say.

Leaning forward he took her hands into his own.  "Scully," he
began.

"You think we made a mistake the other night," she said dully.

He nodded and her heart shattered.

"Scully," he called pleadingly.  "Please look at me."  He was
crouching on the floor before her, his hands still grasping hers.
"My priorities haven't changed.  Getting the X-Files back, finding
Samantha, stopping these men who would threaten this world with
their plans...these things are still the most important thing to
me.  I can't allow myself to become distracted by changing our
relationship."

He took a deep breath, waiting for her reply,  but she was silent.

"Scully, after what I saw on that ship...I have to devote myself
to the work.  There's no room for anything else."

"But the X-Files have been taken away from us," she protested.

"Diana expects that she will be assigned to them if we're not and
she has offered to funnel as much information and allow me, allow
*us*  to tag along with her whenever we can manage it."

"Oh..." she said quietly.

"Scully...this doesn't mean...it's not that..." He cursed under
his breath, struggling for the words.  "You know how important you
are to me, Scully," he said simply.  "But it wouldn't be fair to
anyone.  Not to me.  Not to the work.  And most importantly, not
to you.  You deserve a man who makes *you* the center of his
universe.  You deserve someone who...you...you deserve someone
else."

She wanted to cry out 'but I want you!' but her pride had been
trampled enough this evening.

He paused, gathering enough strength to deal the final blow.  "I
don't want to lose you as a friend or a partner.  But if you want
to leave...I'll understand.  And I won't try to stop you this
time."  

"You should leave," she said, staring at the carpet beneath her
feet.

"Scully, please can we just..."

She lifted her head and what he saw in her eyes made him want to
fall to floor, tell her the truth and beg her forgiveness.  Her
eyes were devoid of tears but brimming with hurt; brimming with
anger.  In her eyes he saw undying love.  In her eyes, he saw a
spark of hatred.

He pulled the door closed behind him and leaned his forehead
against it.  What would happen to them now, he wondered...how
would he live without her?

"Shit!" he cursed, stumbling toward the stairs, running from the
building.

He got about a mile from her house before he had to pull over.
Wrenching open the car door, he vomited into the street.  Wiping
his mouth with the back of his hand, he slid back into the car.
Leaning his head against the steering wheel, he wept.

Now she sat in the dark, arms banded around her legs, her face
buried against her knees.  Rocking.  Tears were a huge knot in her
throat, yet still she was dry-eyed.  Her mind raced, trying to
make sense out of what he had just said.

What had happened to change things so radically in less than two
days?  Had he been disappointed in their lovemaking?  She didn't
think so, not judging by the number of times he had reached for
her that night.  She had been so sure of his feelings for her.
She shivered, remembering the moment when he had first joined his
body to hers, sliding deep within her, burying his face in her
neck, groaning "Scully...love you."

She slid to the floor, curling up in a miserable ball.  Had that
been a dream?  Had she been projecting her feelings onto him?  Had
she only imagined him slipping from her bed yesterday morning,
whispering "I love you" against her temple?

Unbidden came a memory of something her mother had told her as a
teenager.  It had been part of her argument against having sex
outside of marriage.  Margaret Scully had sat her youngest
daughter down on her bed.  "When you're in love, it's natural to
want to share everything with that person, including your body.
But if things don't work out, if you don't stay together, he will
always have this most *intimate* knowledge about you."

At the time, indeed until now, she didn't understand what her
mother meant by that.  It had seemed a strange thing to say.  Dana
had broken off other serious relationships in her life and had
never given a passing thought to her mother's words.  Now,
however, they made a horrible kind of sense to her.  Tomorrow she
was going to have to go into work and face him.  And in that
amazing memory of his, he held the most secret, the most personal,
the most private knowledge of her.  The sounds that she made and
the look on her face when she climaxed.  The curves and contours
of her body and all its imperfections.  What made her shiver; what
made her cry out.  Shy moments and uncharacteristically bold
moments.  The way she kissed.  The way she tasted.  She would have
to look at him from across the desk or sit next to him in the car,
knowing that he knew all of these things about her.  Knowing all
of the same things about him.  And what made her sick to her
stomach was the thought that he could sit there and want nothing
more from her than to be his friend and partner.


Chapter Five

"Well, I'll let you get back to *your* work," she said, tossing
the file folder down onto the table where it skidded into the
charred remnants of the X-Files scattered there.  "Next time, I'll
be sure to use the secret knock."  He almost smiled.  She didn't
do it often, but Scully could do snide so well when it suited her.
Her next words wiped any trace of a smile from his face.  "Oh, and
Mulder?" She nodded toward the burnt remains of the files.  "You
might want to consider putting your life's work on diskettes in
the future.  I'm sure Diana can help you."  The door closed with a
quiet snick behind her as she slipped into the hallway.

Mulder dropped his head onto the table, moaning softly.  Why
wouldn't she just leave?  Nearly a month had passed since he had
made his decision to force her out of his life.  A month of days
working with her, sitting next to her in meetings, in cars, in the
bullpen.  Some days it was so easy to forget.  Slipping into their
familiar roles, they would argue their respective points.  But
then he would touch her on the small of her back or turn to laugh
with her about something and he would see the rigid way in which
she held herself.  The last few days had been the worst so far.
Sitting before the supervisory board, desperate to regain control
of the X-Files, his anger with Scully and her seeming lack of
support was genuine.  He had lashed out at her, ditching her and
running off with Diana, throwing the other woman's trustworthiness
in her face.  He had seen the slight tremor in her hand when she
had handed him that file and he wanted to howl to the world that
he would never trust anyone the way he trusted her.

Looking up at her face as she had delivered her tart little
comments, seeking in some way to wound him with words the way he
had wounded her, the high spots of color on her cheeks and the
spark of temper in her eyes brought her face to life in a way he
hadn't seen in many weeks.

********

Her face was flushed and her eyes were a sparkling blue as he
pinned her to the floor with his bigger body.

"I hope you're planning to do a little more than just that," he
whispered against her lips.  She smiled, settling her feet against
his calf muscles, shifting her hips into his.

He slid his hand down her throat and cupped her breast in his warm
palm.  She moaned, arching into his touch and he rubbed his hand
across the black lace of her bra until he could feel the tip
harden against the center of his palm.

"You like that?" he asked.  She sighed and nodded, lips blindly
seeking his.  His kiss was hard, quick, and possessive.

"More," she pleaded.

He slanted his mouth over hers, his lips rubbing hers apart,
tongue sweeping into her mouth once again to taste her.  He looped
her arms around his neck and reared back onto his haunches,
pulling her up with him.  His hands quickly unhooked the back
closure of her bra and he peeled the straps down her arms, baring
her to his gaze.  He grabbed a pillow from the sofa and placed it
under her head, lowering her onto the floor.  Propped up on one
elbow, he loomed over her, his eyes and hand tracing a path from
her throat to her waist.  She turned her face, burying her flaming
cheeks in the crook of his elbow.  She gasped as she felt his
tongue bathing the skin between her breasts, crying out as he
closed his hot, wet mouth over one sensitive peak. 

"Mulder," she groaned, her body shifting restlessly next to his.
Her hands moved feverishly over his chest, slipping into the
waistband of his slacks to caress the soft skin of his belly.

"Mulder..."

He raised his mouth from her breast, his hand cupping it
possessively as he slid up her body.  Their mouths met in a greedy
kiss and she clumsily tried to push his shirt from his body.

Breaking off the kiss, he buried his lips against the pounding
pulse in her throat.

"Scully...where?" he panted, wrestling free of his shirt and
wrapping his arms around her waist, forcing her body to arch into
his.

"My bed," she gasped.  "Mulder, I want you in my bed."

He groaned, pushing himself onto his knees.  She was sprawled out
on the floor, bare to the waist.  Her lips were reddened and
swollen; her eyes were soft, slumberous.  Her bedroom seemed so
far away.  Taking firm hold of his determination, he hauled her to
her feet and pulled her into the bedroom.

She snapped on the bedside lamp and the room was bathed in its
soft glow.  Locking her eyes on his, she fumbled with the zipper
of her skirt.

"Wait," he said, stilling her hands.  His hand settled on the nape
of her neck, drawing her toward him.  He pressed her cheek to his
chest and wrapped her tightly in his arms.  Her arms wound
themselves around his waist and they clung together until their
pulses slowed, their breathing evened out.

He stepped back, cupping her face in his hands and dropping a kiss
on her forehead.  His hands went to work on her zipper and the
black skirt slipped to the floor.  Mulder knelt before her and
slid his hands up her thighs beneath her half-slip.  He grasped
the waistband of her pantyhose and rolled them down and off her
legs.  Leaning forward, he buried his face against her stomach.
Scully leaned over him, her hands stroking up and down his back.
He lifted his head, nuzzling his lips against her breasts.  He
rasped the flat of his tongue across the soft underside of one
breast and then drew the nipple between his lips.  He caught the
elastic waist of her panties and slid the delicate lace down her
legs.  She braced her hands on his shoulders as he helped her step
out of them.  She was trembling uncontrollably as he slid his
thumb into the wet heat of her center, her knees buckling as his
tongue darted out to delicately taste her.

"Get in bed," he whispered, easing her onto the white eyelet
comforter.  He quickly pulled off the rest of his clothes and then
crawled onto the bed with her.  He threw the pillows on the floor
and pushed her up toward the headboard.  He drew her hands onto
the spindles of the headboard.  "Hold on," he instructed and she
wrapped her fingers tightly around the smooth wood.  He settled
between her thighs and tilted her head back, covering her mouth
with his own.  She felt him brush against her and wrapped her legs
around his waist.  And as he slid deep within her welcoming body
she heard him groan,  "Scully...love you."

Chapter Six

"Agent Scully, I was wondering if you could shed some light on
your partner's whereabouts."

Dana Scully quickly ran through a mental checklist of excuses she
had already used over the last two months to explain Mulder's
increasingly frequent absences.  She stared at her boss.

"I believe that Agent Mulder is in Pennsylvania investigating the
members of an alleged militia group that has sprung up in
Lancaster County."

Kersh pursed his lips, studying the woman who stood rigidly before
him, looking for signs that she was lying to him.

"As a matter of fact," she continued in a steady voice, "I was
supposed to join him there but was delayed when you called this
meeting."

"Well then Agent, don't let me hold you back.  I will expect your
reports by 5:00 Friday."

Scully nodded and let herself out of his office.  Her shoulders
slumped when she reached her desk, pulling out her briefcase and
airline ticket.  She was exhausted.  She had told Kersh a portion
of the truth.  Mulder was in Pennsylvania and she was due to join
him there.  What she omitted was the fact that he was currently
there with Diana Fowley investigating reports of people found
eviscerated in the Amish countryside.  Diana believed that the
reports she had received indicated a connection to the two people
who had died of similar wounds in Phoenix about a month ago and
Mulder had eagerly gone with her to check it out.  Now he wanted
Scully to come up and handle the autopsies.

Scully had been kept busy trying to cover Mulder's tracks by
finding supposed threats to national security in the areas to
which Mulder was sneaking off.  Fortunately, or unfortunately -
depending on your perspective - with the violent climate in the
world, this was easier to do that she had expected.

Of course, in addition to providing the scientific backup for
Mulder and Diana's investigations, she also had to investigate
these security threats and write up persuasive reports to go along
with her investigations.

She boarded the plane and buckled herself into her seat.  She
hated flying alone and had found herself doing so more and more
frequently of late.  She rolled her head against the seatback
staring sightlessly out of the tiny window of the plane.

Why was she putting herself through this, she wondered.  When
Mulder had come to her apartment that night so many weeks ago, she
had, at first, tried to convince herself that he was simply
running scared. That the sudden shift in their relationship had
confused and frightened him and that he just needed some time.
But it was becoming increasingly obvious to her that their
partnership had been irrevocably damaged in some way.  That he
still cared for her, she was sure.  That he trusted her and valued
her opinion - she knew this to be true as well.  But where once
she had been the *only* person he trusted, she was now sharing
that role with Diana Fowley.  In Diana he had found a partner who
didn't question his every idea and though Mulder would deny it if
she confronted him, Scully felt that she was slowly being squeezed
out of his life.

So why did she stay?  In part, she stayed because she didn't trust
Diana to watch Mulder's back.  When he had gone missing in the
Bermuda Triangle, Diana was nowhere to be found.  It was Scully
who once again risked life, limb and career to find and save him.
Renewed hope for a future together flared briefly in the face of
his declaration of love in the hospital after they had fished him
out of the water.  She had been cautiously optimistic that there
was truth to be found in his Demerol induced pronouncement.  His
eyes had been so soft and full of wonder as he had related to her
the events of the adventure he had dreamed.  She took heart in the
fact that she had played so crucial a role in his delusions.  But
then they had returned to D.C. and he had never brought it up
again.

She wiped a stray tear from her lashes with one fingertip.

She stayed because she couldn't imagine her life without him.  The
day was coming, she knew, when her pride wouldn't allow her to
stay any longer in a place where she wasn't needed.  But most of
all, she stayed because of the work.  Contrary to Mulder's belief,
the X-Files were no longer just his life's work.  She would see it
through to the end and if her heart and soul died along the way...

The flight attendant came by offering drinks and snacks.  Scully
waved her off, idly wondering when she had last had an appetite.

*********

The tiny ripples and contractions of her fading orgasm milked and
tugged at his flesh as Mulder strained above her to reach his own
completion.  He grunted her name every time his body sank into
hers, until her name became a hiss of sound as his pace increased
and his movements became shorter and less fluid.  

He stiffened, hands clenching her hips in a bruising grip as his
body convulsed, spilling into hers.  Trembling, he fell forward,
nestling his head on her breasts, abrading her tender skin as he
rubbed the stubble of his beard against them.  Long moments passed
as they brought their bodies under control and their breathing
steadied.

Mulder slid up her body and kissed her lightly on the nose.  He
rolled over, pulling her with him so that she was propped up on
his chest.  He tangled his fingers into her sweaty hair, raking it
back from her face and securing it at the nape of her neck with
one hand.  He urged her down and they kissed lazily.  She smiled
as she drew back and settled against his strong chest, burying her
lips against his throat.  He trailed languid fingers along her
dampened back and over the swell of her hips.  She quivered as his
hands skated across the curves of her buttocks before sliding back
up to trace random patterns over her back.  A smile curved his
lips when he felt her mouth tugging at the soft skin of his neck.

"You're gonna leave a mark," he rumbled.

She released his skin and laved it with the tip of her tongue.

"Scully?" he mumbled.

"Hmmm?" She toyed with the sparse hair sprinkled over his chest.

"What time is it?"

She raised her head to peer at the glowing red numbers of the
digital clock on the nightstand.

"3:30."  She settled back down onto her comfortable resting-place
and closed her eyes.

"I'm hungry.  How 'bout you?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "did I mention that it's 3:30 in the
*morning*?"

"Let's get something to eat."  He pushed her gently off of him and
stood next to the bed, looking at her expectantly.

She brushed tangled hair out of her eyes.  "Mulder!"

"Come on Scully..." he wheedled.

"Mulder it's *3:30*. In the morning."  She said it louder and more
slowly as he did not seem to be grasping the concept.

He crawled into bed and grabbed her hands, tugging her to a
sitting position.  "I need food.  I need to refuel to get my
strength back," he said suggestively.

She tried to lay back down.  "Oh God, Mulder.  You're going to
kill me.  Sleep, Mulder.  I need sleep."

He ignored her, pulling her to her feet.  "Foooood Scully...we
need food."

"Fine," she said, climbing back into bed.  "Help yourself.  The
refrigerator is that way."  She flung her hand in the general
direction of the kitchen.

"No, no, no.  Come with me."  He drew her back to her feet and she
collapsed sleepily against him.  Her eyes popped open with a
sudden inspiration.

"Mulder," she whispered in an intimate voice, "come back to bed."

He drew in a quick breath at her implication but laughed when he
saw drowsiness instead of desire on her face.  He dangled her robe
from one finger and she belted it around her slim waist, eyeing
him balefully.

"God!  Let's go!"

He grabbed his pants off the floor and stepped into them,
following her to the kitchen.  She stood in front of the open
refrigerator and he peered over her shoulder at the contents.

"Fruit, yogurt...salad.  Jeez, Scully.  Don't you have anything
edible?"

She pulled an apple out of the crisper while he rooted through the
cabinets.  "Ah ha!" he exclaimed as he pulled out a jar of peanut
butter.  He grabbed a loaf of French bread and cut thick slices,
which he popped into the toaster oven.  While he waited for the
bread to toast, he leaned over and took a large bite out of her
apple.

"Hey," she protested.  "Get your own."

"Mmmmm.  Juicy," he mumbled around a mouthful of fruit.  "But it
would be better with peanut butter on it," he declared, pulling
another apple out of the refrigerator.  He took plates out of the
cabinet and grabbed the knife from the counter while she poured
two glasses of milk.

He was leaning against the counter slicing the apple and spreading
peanut butter on the toast where it instantly melted and turned
gooey.  Mulder was contentedly munching on a piece of toast and
didn't seem inclined to move to the kitchen table.  Too tired to
stand, Scully boosted herself onto the kitchen counter.  Mulder
grinned, licking peanut butter from his thumb.  Spreading some
peanut butter onto a slice of apple, he held it up to her lips.
She peered at it dubiously.

"Come on, Scully.  It's good for you - protein, fiber...besides, I
think you burned enough calories tonight that you can indulge in a
midnight snack."

That was certainly true, she thought.  Not to mention there was
the added bonus that if she ate something now, she could sleep
later and skip breakfast. That was, of course, providing Mulder
ever let her get any sleep tonight.  She bit into the apple slice.

"Good?" he asked.

She nodded and picked up the knife to spread peanut butter on
another slice.

She was leaning tiredly against the cabinets behind her head while
he finished his snack.  He tossed the apple cores into the garbage
disposal, capped the peanut butter jar and wrapped up the bread,
putting the plates and knife into the sink.  He turned back to
face her, pushing her knees apart and stepping between them.  She
glanced down at him.  He was naked except for his pants, which he
had hastily zippered but never buttoned.  Her eyes ran intently
over his chest and down to the waist of his pants, where she could
just make out his belly button.  Mulder's eyebrows arched as he
watched her eyes rake over his body.  She tried to gauge what her
body was craving most.  Mulder or sleep.  Sleep, she decided
reluctantly.

Her eyelids were drooping as she lifted her head to look at him.

"Come on," he whispered, pulling her to the edge of the counter.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and dropped her head onto
his shoulder.  He banded his arms under her buttocks and carried
her from the room.  She slapped at the light switch as they passed
by and then burrowed her face into the curve between his neck and
shoulder.  By the time they reached her bedroom, she was almost
asleep.  He helped ease her out of her robe and then settled her
under the covers.  He dropped his pants to the floor and crawled
in behind her.  Curling his body around hers, they slept.


Chapter Seven


Scully had called Mulder from her rental car, telling him that she
was driving directly to the county coroner's office and that she
would meet him in a few hours after she had completed the
autopsies.

Mulder pushed open the door to the autopsy bay.  He paused for a
moment to watch his partner.  She was softly dictating her notes
into a hand-held cassette recorder.  She was unaware of his
presence and he was able to observe her without notice.

She looked tired, he thought.  Exhausted to be precise.  The wound
to their relationship was taking its toll on her.  It had taken
its toll on him as well, but he knew that it wasn't manifesting
itself in his physical appearance the way it did Scully.  She had
lost weight. The scrubs that she wore for her work were always too
big for her petite frame, but today she seemed to be swallowed up
by the loose cotton garments.  Her face was pallid, and he wasn't
sure if the slight greenish tinge to her skin was merely a
reflection of the scrubs or not.

Scully never wore much makeup and she always wore her hair in a
stylish but simple cut.  Over the years, her wardrobe had come to
consist of well-made but functional suits, almost all of which
were black.  One of the few frivolous, feminine pleasures that
Scully allowed herself was a weekly manicure.  Her nails were
always beautifully shaped and she usually had them painted with
the palest pink polish.  As she lifted the cassette recorder to
her mouth, he saw that her nails were clipped short and devoid of
any polish.

Most telling of all was her posture.  Scully did not slouch.
Until now.  She was slumped at the desk, her shoulders sagging as
she tiredly rubbed a headache away.

He stepped further into the room and she looked up at him.  Eyes
that used to spark when he entered a room, flicked toward him in
acknowledgement of his presence, then slid away to review her
written notes as she continued her dictation.

I'm not protecting her, he realized.  I'm slowly killing her.  He
suddenly knew that he would not be able to push her away.  She
simply had no intention of leaving.  Certainly not on his
timetable.  Maybe it was time to reconsider his plan...

His thoughts were interrupted as the door swung open behind him
and Diana swept into the room.

"Agent Scully, what have you found?" she asked.

Scully lifted a hand to the back of her neck, kneading the aching
muscles.  She rolled her head from one side to the other.  "Well,
these people were killed by monsters," she began.  "Very human
ones."

Diana stepped forward, opening her mouth to protest and Scully
held up one hand to forestall her objections.  "They were
eviscerated with a hunting knife," she shrugged.

Diana leaned forward, rifling through the file on the desk until
she came across the crime scene photos of the victims.  She
stabbed her finger at an enlargement of one of the gaping wounds
on one victim.  "No hunting knife makes that jagged a cut.  That
had to be teeth or claws!"

"What about a serrated knife?" Mulder asked Scully.

"Their internal organs were cut out with the hunting knife.  But,
Diana's right.  Those ragged edges of the wounds were not caused
by a knife," Scully confirmed.

Diana arched a brow.  "Well, what then?" 

"Pinking shears," Scully stated softly.

"I'm sorry...what did you say?" Diana demanded in disbelief.

"I said pinking shears."

"Pinking shears?"

"What can I tell you Diana?" she shrugged.  "They were really
sharp shears!"

"And what about the jellied substance found on the victims
bodies?" Diana snapped.

Scully lifted a report out of the file, trailing her finger down
one column.  "It was a mixture of vegetable oil, petroleum jelly
and Slime."

"SLIME?" Diana shrieked.

"Yes, it's a toy, for lack of a better word.  My godson likes to
play with it," she gave a delicate shudder at the memory.
"Anyway, apparently you mix it with the vegetable oil and
petroleum jelly, throw it in the microwave and voila! Alien goo!"

Mulder bit his lip, stifling a laugh.  He was disappointed at the
results of the autopsy, but had suspected human involvement from
the start.  The source of his amusement was the subtle pleasure
Scully was taking in revealing those results to Diana.

"Why...why would anyone murder two people, disembowel them and
then go to all the trouble of making...making..." Diana waved her
hands around impotently.

"Alien goo," Scully provided helpfully and then slid another piece
of paper out of the file.  "It seems that information regarding
the bodies found in Phoenix was leaked somehow."  She showed them
both a copy of the front page of a supermarket tabloid magazine.
'Aliens Kill Two by Bursting Out of the Victims' Chests' the
headline blared.  "It seems they weren't able to get any pictures
of the actual victims, so they used stills from the movie
'Alien'."

Diana stared helplessly at the copy of the newspaper.

"It's a sick world," Scully told the older woman.  "Welcome to the
X-Files."

Diana leaned over Scully.  "Do you always take this much pleasure
in proving Fox wrong?" she asked snidely.

Scully stood up, forcing the other woman back.  "I am extremely
busy, Agent Fowley.   I take no pleasure in having my ass dragged
up to Pennsylvania to autopsy the bodies of people who were
unlucky enough to get in the way of some local yokels who were
either high, drunk, insane or a combination of all three when they
decided to impersonate an alien!"

"You wouldn't know an alien if it bit you in the ass!" the
dark-haired woman exclaimed, pushing Scully out of the way, as she
stalked out of the room.

Scully staggered back against the other woman's assault and raised
wounded eyes to Mulder's.  In Diana's words she heard the echo of
the same accusation that Mulder had made in Phoenix.

"No, Scully!  I wouldn't!  You know I would never..."

She stuffed all of her notes back into the file, furiously
blinking back tears of humiliation and rage.   The thought that
Mulder and Diana had been discussing her made her ill.

"Scully," he cried, pulling at her shoulder.  "You know..."

"No! Mulder I don't know.  I used to know you.  I thought I knew
you!"  She tried to push her way past him, but he held her firmly
in his grip.  He knew now that he had been fooling himself all
along with the belief that he could have let her go.

"Mulder, let me go!" she cried.

"NO!" he roared.  "I can't.  I won't!"

She squirmed against his bruising hold.  "Scully!  We need to
talk."

She sagged, suddenly defeated.  "Please.  Mulder, I don't
understand you.  You've practically ignored me over the last two
months.  Now you want to talk? I've wanted to talk to you for
weeks and weeks, but you didn't have time for it!"

"Please," he begged.  "I know I've hurt you.  I know you don't
understand why, but I had my reasons.  If you'll just..."

"You're right!" she railed.  "I don't understand how you could
spend an entire night in my bed, making love to me, telling me
that you *loved* me only to tell me two days later that it was all
a mistake and you wanted to be friends!  I thought I was going
crazy, Mulder.  I thought I had imagined that entire night!"

He pushed her gently back into her chair and knelt on the floor
before her.  "I did love you, Scully.  I *do* love you.  When I
woke up that morning, I had never been happier in my life.  You
were beautiful lying next to me.  I knew I was so lucky to have
you."  He paused, searching for the right words to explain.

"Then what happened?" she asked, dashing tears from her cheeks.

"You turned to face me and I saw the physical reminders of the
ordeal you had just gone through.  The frostbites marks on your
beautiful face.  The bruise on your chest from where I had to
perform CPR on you..." his voice broke, remembering.  "You almost
died Scully and I could have lost you forever. I knew that you
would always be in danger as long as you were with me.  I knew
that you wouldn't let me leave you.  Don't you understand?  I had
to make you want to leave."

She blinked, stunned.  Then she stood, pushing him off balance so
that he fell back onto the floor.  She loomed over him, panting
with fury. 

"You son of a bitch!  Get out!"

"Scully, please.  We need to talk about this."

I can't talk to you.  I can't even look at you.  Never mind.  I'll
leave!"  She slammed past him.

Mulder curled up into a ball on the cold tile floor.  He had
finally gotten what he wanted.  She was gone.


Chapter Eight

Mulder stood in the doorway of the bullpen, shocked at the sight
that greeted his eyes.  Scully was sitting at her desk, typing
something at her computer.  He had convinced himself that she had
left him for good and that he might never see her again.  She had
called in sick the last two days.  He approached her warily,
convinced that she was typing her resignation letter.

"Scully?" he called softly.  He wondered if she could tell just by
looking at him, how remorseful he was.  He knew that his
appearance rivaled hers of two days prior.  Dark circles rimmed
eyes that were red and bleary from lack of sleep.  Looking in the
mirror that morning, the expression 'you look like you just lost
your best friend' took on an extraordinarily intimate meaning for
him.

"We need to talk, Mulder," she said.  "Would you like to come over
to my place tonight after work?"  Her voice was calm, but he was
unable to identify the expression in her eyes.  Composed, quiet.
She had obviously come to some kind of decision.  He searched her
face for some clue as to what that decision might be.

"Scully, I..."

"Tonight, Mulder."

He slumped into his chair and booted up his computer.  The day
dragged on interminably as they both made the requisite telephone
calls and pushed paper.  Finally he heard her get up from her
chair. She grabbed her sweater and briefcase and walked toward the
door.

"I'll see you in a little while," he offered.

She nodded and left.

Less than two hours later he arrived at her home.  She let him
into her apartment and they sat stiffly on either end of the sofa.
Finally he broke the silence.

"Are you resigning?"

She cocked her head to one side.  "Isn't that what you wanted?"
she asked.   

"Yes...no," he buried his face in his hands.

"Mulder, can I ask you a question?" she asked.

He nodded jerkily and she continued.

"You seem to be under the impression that I've been working all of
these years on the X-Files because I have some kind of blind
loyalty to you and your quest.  Does that sound about right?"

"I...I know there are a lot of other factors as to why you stay
but, yes, I think that is reason that you've stayed as long as you
have."

She stood up and walked across the room.  Leaning against the
windowsill, she pushed back the curtains and studied the cars
parked in the street below.  "You know, I took the job on the
X-Files because I was a young agent, eager to please my
superiors," she told him thoughtfully. "They ordered me to accept
my new assignment.  So I did."

He could see her studying him in the reflection of the glass of
the window, as she spoke.  "I continued to work there because I
was intrigued."  She worried the lace of the curtain between her
fingers as she searched for the right words.  "I've stayed all of
these years because of my devotion to *my* quest. As well as to
yours."

He nodded, but she didn't think he understood her yet.  She walked
back across the room to stand next to him, staring at him
intently, willing him to accept what she was saying. 

"Mulder, I often think that if you find Samantha, you'll quit.
Your quest will be over.  But Mulder, Samantha is your Holy Grail.
Not mine.  Don't misunderstand.  I want to find her for you.  For
her.  But she isn't the only reason that I stayed.  I stayed
because I want to find out what was done to me.  I want justice.
I stayed because my best friend needed me."

"I still do, Scully."

She knew that he meant what he said.  She took a deep breath.  He
needed to accept what she was about to say, or they stood no
chance.  "Mulder, you need to understand this and accept this.
The X-Files are not just about you.  They are every bit as much
about me.  I won't leave them.  But I might leave you."

He blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall.  "Tell me
what you want," he said.  "I'll leave them.  I'll leave them for
you, if that's what you want."

"You don't even have them to leave," she reminded him.

"I'm going to get them back, Scully.  I've always known that.  I'm
going to get them back and I'll walk away and leave them to you,"
he offered desperately.

"I want...I want..." her voice trailed off in a whisper.

"What?" he asked hoarsely.

"I want things to be the way they were before," she sighed sadly.
"And I don't know that they can ever be.  I gained and lost a
lover in one night and he took my best friend with him."

He sat on the coffee table and leaned closer to her.  "He's still
here, Scully.  You may not want me as a lover, but I can still be
your friend."

She sniffed and wiped her fingers across her wet cheeks.  "Let's
start with friendship."


Chapter Nine - Epilogue


It was the hardest year of their lives.  Anger and misplaced trust
sidetracked them time and again.  But spring approached and with
the reacquisition of the X-Files, they slowly found their footing
on firmer ground.

Mulder jogged across the infield and dumped the balls he had
gathered into the canvas sack lying by home plate.  Scully was
slipping on the jacket that she had shrugged off during her
batting lesson.  She was leaning against the chain link fence
behind her and her face was flushed and animated.

"So," he inquired.  "Did you like your present?"

"I loved it, Mulder.  It was a lot of fun." She tilted her head
back and grinned happily.

"Good," he laughed, reaching out to stroke a tendril of hair off
her damp forehead.  His hand lingered and she leaned toward him
almost imperceptibly.  He lowered his head and his mouth brushed
across hers tentatively.  He pulled back, uncertain of her
response.  She swayed toward him, bracing one hand on his chest as
she lifted up on her toes to reach for his mouth with her own.

"Happy Birthday," he whispered, wrapping his fingers around the
cool metal of the chain link fence, trapping her between his body
and the batting cage.   She stretched upward again and he pressed
his lips to her forehead.  "I'm always going to be overprotective
of you," he warned against her temple.

"I know," she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist and
resting her cheek against his chest.  "Just promise me that you
won't make any life altering decisions for us without consulting
me first."

He tightened his arms around her, lifting her feet from the ground
until her face was level with his.

"I can do that," he promised, hugging her tightly.


He awoke the next morning, blinking against the weak rays of the
sun through the gauzy, white curtains.  His body felt heavy and
sated as he stretched long limbs out over the cool, cotton sheets.
He propped himself up on one elbow to study the woman sleeping
peacefully beside him.  The sheets had slipped to her waist,
revealing pink-tipped breasts and pale ivory skin.  They had spent
most of the night awake, making love.  He shifted, contemplating
going out on an early morning run for coffee and the newspaper.
His movement roused his lover and she rolled over, resting her
cheek on his bicep.

"Mulder?" 

"Yeah, Scully?"

"Stay."

"I'm not going anywhere," he smiled, pulling her into his arms. 


The End


Thanks to Char for fabulous beta, suggestions, advice and
generally prodding me not to slack off just because I was getting
tired.

Thanks to the Sisters Spooky for keeping me entertained during
hiatus and for the encouraging words.

Special thanks to Aly - archivist extraordinaire.  She generously
offered to host a page for stories and I love it.  You can find
this and all of my other stories at: 
http://acovington.home.mindspring.com/tess/index.html

I think this is the longest story I've every attempted and I would
love to know what you thought about it.  You can write, please, to
me at tnv099@aol.com


This story makes #10 in my series inspired by the works of Rodgers
& Hammerstein.

Alien goo.  Don't try this one at home boys and girls.  I know I
certainly didn't.  I don't even want to know what you would get by
mixing those items together and nuking them.  I bet it would smell
pretty awful though.  

Also, do I think that pinking shears can be used to imitate an
alien bursting out of a human body?  Doubtful.  Then again, do I
believe in liver-eating mutants who can stretch themselves down a
chimney or out of a heating duct?  Or for that matter, do I
believe that there is a race of aliens looking to colonize earth
while a rebel force is sewing their faces shut...The answer is, I
don't want to know.  Same goes for the pinking shears theory.