Title: NEW "In Vino Veritas" MSR,SRA
Author: Dawson Rambo
Date: Thu, 14 Aug 1997 05:27:14 -0700~
"In Vino Veritas."
By Dawson E. Rambo
Disclaimer : Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and any
other tangentially mentioned characters created by Chris
Carter remain his copyrighted property, the property of 1013
Productions, and the property of Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century
Fox, Inc. No infringement of any copyright is intended. Characters
created by the author remain his property.
Original Post : August 11, 1997
Archive Entry : Untitled
Classification : MSR, Vish
Rating : R (Adult Themes, Adult Language, violence)
***************: PLEASE SEE CONTENT NOTES AND CONTENT WARNINGS.
Archive : Any public accessible server.
Missing Parts : http://www.azstarnet.com/~drambo
Feedback : All feedback (good or bad) to: drambo@azstarnet.com
Mailing List : Email to drambo@azstarnet.com with subject SUBSCRIBE.
Notes : None
Timeline : 4th year, prior to "Momento Mori."
Spoilers : "Paper Hearts," "Skyzy" "3" "Irresistible"
"Beyond the Sea" "Anasanzi" "Paper Clip"
"Small Potatoes." "Never Again"
And in this odd universe, "Small Potatoes" happened, but
none of the events in or associated with "Momento Mori" did.
Go figure THAT one out.
WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING : (Wow, four WARNING's. Must
be severe.) That's right, boys and girls, we have a SEVERE
WARNING in effect. After getting blasted for "Sixty" and
"Convection" I've decided not to take any more chances, and
tell you all what 's going on before you get into the meat
of the story. Please, if you DO NOT WANT TO BE SURPRISED,
scroll down to the end of this story and read the content
warning. There is some stuff in here that you might want to
be aware of. If, however, you trust me, you might want to
read on before reading the content warning. Preface warning:
This story contains explicit sexual contact. (For some
readers, this translates to "Has Good Parts.") This story
also contains other disturbing things. If you even THINK you
might get upset about what this story contains, PLEASE read
the little content thing at the bottom.
UMBRA NOTE: No, I haven't forgotten nor have I abandoned
that story like I did to "Stalkers" and "The Seducer." We
are experiencing technical difficulties here at Umbra
Command Center. We have written two new, exciting
chapters...and they have vanished. We are working with
Technical Support to find out WTF happened to them, and as
soon as they are recovered, they will be sent out. Please
don't suggest that I rewrite the chapters, because that's
the absolute last resort as far as I'm concerned.
Enjoy!
------
"In vino veritas."
"In wine there is truth."
- Pliny the Elder
-1-
The liquor store was almost deserted at this hour; the
blue laws of the county hadn't kicked into effect yet, and
judging by the bored glance the clerk gave them, they
wouldn't for a while yet.
They roamed the aisles, neither quite sure what they
were looking for. Row upon row of silent bottles beckoned to
them, promising numbness, oblivion, two things the partners
desperately wanted at this moment.
"Did we sign the paperwork?" Scully asked.
"Who cares?" was her partner's retort. "I'm not going
back there, not for anything. They can fax it to us in DC,
I'll sign it and we can fax it back." He stopped and turned
to her, his eyes red neither from smoke nor exhaustion. "I'm
not going back, Scully. I can't. I won't."
She touched his arm to show she understood and used her
chin to indicate that they should keep moving. "Are you sure
you want to do this?" she asked softly. "I know you don't
normally drink."
"Screw it," he said harshly. "There's a reason I don't
drink, Scully. A reason I never told you."
She stopped in the wine section, turning to look at the
bottles and boxes
(boxes? Who thought of putting wine in a box?)
and wondered what Mulder's drink of choice would be.
Screwdrivers? Tequila?
"I always assumed it was because of your father," she
said gently.
"That's a big part of it," he admitted, turning to look
at the selection of red wines, "...but not all of it."
She remained silent, waiting. Given enough time, she
knew, he would tell her.
"When I was with BSU," he started slowly, "we'd always
celebrate a solution by going out and getting ripped. I was
young, it was the part of me that wanted to fit in, wanted
to be one of the gang." He snorted, shaking his head. "I
should have known better. A trained psychologist... all of
us with some kind of deeper understanding of the human mind,
and none of us saw it for what it really was: A futile
attempt to banish the monsters."
Futile? Scully thought. She said nothing, however.
"A futile attempt to make the pain go away," he
amended.
"So if it's futile, why are we-"
"Old habits die hard, I guess," was his weak answer.
"For a while, it worked. In the morning we'd wake up,
hungover and sure that we were going to die. A day, maybe
two later, we'd be back at work on the next case, the next
human monster. After a while the booze didn't do anything."
He stopped and faced her again. "It's been a while. Maybe
it'll work this time." He drywashed his face with one hand,
his eyes peeking out from over his fingers. "God, I hope
so."
Scully pursed her lips and nodded, but said nothing.
She knew that any attempt to dissuade him from this course
of action would be met with anger, invective, accusations.
So she did what she always did: She supported him.
And truth be told, she was sort of looking forward to
feeling nothing for a while.
"What did you tell Skinner?" she asked.
"I told him that we had some more paperwork to do
tomorrow and not to expect us back until Thursday," he said
softly.
"That's two whole days!" Scully protested.
"I know. I have a feeling we're going to need it,
Scully."
She had no answer for that, for she knew that he was
right.
They'd left the police station only moments ago, the
suspect finally in custody. Three weeks of field work on
this one, three weeks of chasing a human monster that made
Roche look like the Good Humor Man. Three weeks spent
performing autopsies on bodies that had been piling up
faster than anyone could count. Horribly mutilated bodies.
All of them infants.
All of them under a year old.
With a mental flash, Scully was back in the autopsy
bay, her fingers poised over the battered, brutally
mutilated body of one of the victims.
Her ears had been removed with surgical precision.
So had her tongue.
Screwing her eyes closed to banish the image, Scully
sighed, fighting for control.
"What are you seeing?" Mulder asked.
"Victim seven," she answered.
He nodded; at least Scully had been spared the...
The...
Scene of the crimes, his mind suggested. That was as
good a term as any, he decided.
Killing Ground sounded so official, so much like a
phrase one would use in a report.
Laboratory sounded too much like a Grade-Z horror
flick. Although, considering what he'd scene in that
madman's lair...laboratory wasn't too far off.
And to think it was...
He shuddered, wanting the memories gone, banished
forever. "Too bad we can't go someplace and have our
memories replaced," he said quietly.
She smiled at him. "I thought that was what you claimed
the government has been doing for years."
He grinned at her, sharing the joke. "Sure, but this
time I it to happen. I want the memories gone."
Please, he thought to no one in particular. Please let the
memories be gone in the morning.
"How did you finally piece it all-" Scully started to
ask.
"Scully, please...let's just...get something and go,
ok?"
She nodded. "What do you-"
"Anything."
She nodded again, reaching out and snagging a bottle of
Jack Daniels. "This'll work," she said. "Go to the cooler
and get some Cokes or something."
"Coke?"
"Mixer," she suggested. He thought about it, wondering
if he wanted to dull the impact of the liquor with soda.
"We need to talk about it," she said softly, reaching
out to touch his arm again. "Both of us," she added. He
nodded, moving to the cooler. Scully went to the back of the
store to pay.
The clerk glanced up. Older, in his seventies at least,
he had a three-day growth of beard on his face and stunk of
old cigarettes and something else, something under it that
Scully couldn't identify.
"You folks police?" he asked.
Scully nodded. "FBI."
The man took the toothpick out of his mouth and used to
point at her. "A nice young woman like you?"
She smiled and quickly flashed her ID. "A nice young
woman like me," she agreed.
He nodded. "Help catch that feller?" he asked again.
"Yes," she nodded. "My partner, actually. I'm a doctor.
I..."
"Say no more," the clerk said. "'magine you had to...
cut them poor babies up to find out the truth, huh?"
She nodded, her throat suddenly tight. "Yeah," she
croaked, reaching for her wallet. "How much-"
"Whyan't you just take it?" the man asked. "Call it...
tit for tat. You came here, helped us get rid of that
monster."
"How'd you-"
"News," the clerk said, tipping his head towards a
small black and white television perched behind the counter,
out of view of the store's patrons. "Broke into the game;
told us they'd caught the bastard."
Scully nodded.
"So, your partner...he figgered it all out?"
"That's what he does," Scully confirmed. "Or at
least...what he did. Not anymore. But..."
"We needed you," the man said, his gaze steady,
unblinking.
"Yes," Scully said again.
"We needed you and you came for us. Helped us. Made it
safe again... for the babies."
The way he said it...said "babies"...made Scully's eyes
tear and sting. "Yeah," she repeated again.
"Take it," the man said, sliding it across the counter
towards Scully. She nodded again, not sure what to say and
reached for it. As she wrapped her fingers around the
bottle, the clerk's hand settled on top of hers.. "Hey," he
said softly. "I'm not sure if anyone's ever said it...but
thanks."
She glanced up, not sure what he meant.
"Some people...can't see the forest for the trees, ya
know? Some people...can't see something right in front of
'em. Especially when it's...bad. Dangerous. Evil. You folks
came here...looked at things that no one should have to look
at...and fixed it. Made it...ok, I guess. Do me a
favor...when it gets bad?"
"Bad?" she asked.
"Bad...when the dreams come. And they will. Trust me.
When the dreams come, and you wake up all sweaty and scared
and wished you'd never heard of this place, of these
people...never heard of the children...just remember that I
said...thanks."
He lifted his hand. "The coke too," he said, nodding
towards Mulder.
"You're a very kind man," Scully said gently. "And it
sounds like you've...seen things."
He nodded. "World War II. Iwo Jima. I was..." He
stopped, reached into his back pocket and came back with a
red bandanna, using it to wipe his suddenly wet eyes. "I was
on a flame-thrower. Used to use 'em to drive the Japs outta
their caves." He coughed harshly, and then continued, "and
then...Korea. Frozen Chosin. I'm sure a nice young lady like
you has never heard-"
"I have," she said softly. "My father was Navy."
He nodded. "So then you know."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Only you could." She
took his hand again. "If no one ever said it to
you...thanks."
He smiled at her. "You go take your partner now.
Sometimes... well, it don't fix all problems, but sometimes
you can find stupidity in the bottom of a bottle, and
sometimes you can find the truth."
He took his hand back. "And sometimes, you can find
both."
She turned to go and then stopped. "Do you still dream
about it?" she asked.
To her back, he answered. "Yeah. 'bout once a month or
so now. At first, every night. But you get used to it."
She nodded at the empty aisle and went to find her
partner.
He was standing in front of the cooler.
"Regular, diet, caffeine free, diet caffeine free...so
many choices," he said softly.
She reached in and grabbed the first six-pack she came
across and turned to go.
"Scully! You didn't pay-"
"Shut up, Mulder. Just...C'mon. The clerk gave us the
stuff free."
Mulder turned and waved at the clerk, who waved back.
He looks sad, Mulder thought.
Haunted.
-2-
Star-Brite Motel
Room 5
10:58pm
"One of the disadvantages of wine is that it makes
a man mistake words for thoughts."
- Samuel Johnson
Mulder pushed open the door with the twin ice-buckets,
both filled to capacity. Scully was inside, on the bed, her
shoes off, the pillows bunched up against the headboard. The
television was on.
"...we'll see you next time, on DATELINE," Stone
Phillips was saying.
"Scully-" he said.
"Shhh...news is coming on," Scully said tiredly.
On the television, the credits started rolling. The
catchy little ditty for the Leno show came on. "...his guest
will be from "NYPD Blue,"..."
Mulder ignored the set and walked to the bathroom
counter. The bottle of Jack Daniels was there, but the soda
was nowhere to be found.
"Where's the-" he asked.
"Toilet tank. Old college trick. Makes 'em colder
faster," Scully said absently.
On the TV, the local newscaster replaced the image of a
NBC coming attraction. "Local police have announced an
arrest in the string of infant killings," the newscaster
said solemnly. "Details in a few moments. The news...begins
now." The opening strain of the local newscast's theme music
filled the room as Mulder went to fish the cans out of the
tank.
"Just add one bucket of ice, Mulder," Scully called.
"It'll overflow when it melts!" he complained.
She sighed. "Mulder...didn't you ever take physics? If
it can fit in there frozen, it'll fit in there melted. Just
add the damn ice!"
He did as bade and fished a single can out.
Returning to the room, he quickly mixed two Jack
Daniels and cokes, making them as strong as he dared. Moving
to the bed, he handed her one.
Gratefully, she took it, and sipped.
"Strong!" she wheezed.
He said nothing, taking a hit himself.
It strong; he could barely taste the soda behind
and under the Jack Daniels. "Ahhh, good stuff," he mumbled.
The newscast started.
The anchor, looking impossibly bright and cheerful,
addressed the camera. "Local police have announced an arrest
in the string of infant murders that have plagued the
county," she said slowly, pronouncing each word as if she
were reading from some sacred tome. "We go now, live, to the
police station and Chief Thomas." The scene switched to a
shot of the police station, reporters milling around, klieg
lights illuminating a small podium with several microphones
attached.
The caption read, "Dalton Thomas, Chief."
"Today," the chief said, "in conjunction with federal
authorities, this department arrested one James Lee Adams in
conjunction with the infant murders-"
"Thank God they didn't give him some cool media name,"
Mulder commented.
"Like what?" Scully asked. "The Mangler? The Ripper?"
"How about 'The Cop From Hell?'" Mulder suggested,
taking another hit.
Scully sighed and tipped her own glass back.
"James Lee Adams," the Chief Thomas continued, "was an
officer with this department." He coughed and continued.
"Needless to say, he has been placed on administrative leave
until this matter is resolved."
Mulder almost spit the mouthful of liquid onto the
carpet. "I can't believe this!" he shouted at the screen. "I
was there! I saw the...the bodies! The table! The...parts."
He fell back onto the bed, dropping his drink, cradling his
head in his hands.
"Civil service law," Scully said gently. "Until he's
convicted, you can't fire him."
"I know," Mulder moaned. "I know..."
"Chief!" a reporter shouted from the crowd.
"Please, let me read the statement, and then I'll
answer as many questions as I can," Thomas protested.
"Was it bad?" Scully asked.
"The worst" Mulder confirmed. "Worst as I've ever
seen."
"The FBI," Thomas said, "sent two specialists to this
department to help us track this...suspect. After three,
almost four weeks of intense investigation, they, in
conjunction with our own department, uncovered information
connecting the parents of the victims. We cannot go into the
connections at this time."
"Good work," Scully said softly.
Mulder tried a laugh, found that it didn't fit, and
abandoned it.
"Mr. Adams has been charged with..." Thomas hesitated
and then continued, "...eleven counts of murder in the first
degree, eleven counts of kidnapping, and eleven counts
of...well, child molestation and sexual assault."
"Chief, were the children sexually molested?" a
reporter shouted.
"Oh my God," Mulder moaned.
"At this time, the evidence is inconclusive," Thomas
replied.
"Bullshit," Scully remarked to no one in particular. "I
autopsied the bodies. They were all-"
"Scully!" Mulder cried.
"Sorry."
"Why are we watching this?" he demanded.
"Exorcism," Scully replied after a moment. "Watch it,
Mulder. Embrace it. Scream and yell and shout and cry if you
have to." She got up and walked to the vanity and freshened
her drink. "We've got a whole bottle and two days to get
through this."
Mulder just nodded into his hands. Scully grabbed a
minuscule motel towel and moved to where he sat, slowly
squatting and applying the towel to the carpet to soak up
the rapidly spreading liquid.
"Don't want to live in squalor for the next two days,"
she said softly.
Mulder's head came up, his eyes tracking and finding
hers.
"Tell me about it," Scully said softly, staring deeply
into her partner's eyes.
"I can't," he moaned. "Not yet."
She reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. "When
you're ready," she said. "I'll be here."
They watched the rest of the news, and then Leno. Each
had two more drinks.
By the time a rerun of "Cheers" came on, they were both
feeling little pain.
Mulder shifted on the end of the bed, turning to face
his partner. "Do you know how I found him?"
"Good investigative technique?"
He laughed. "No...really."
"I was serious, Mulder. You found something to connect
all the women. I was in the lab; all I heard was that you
and a SWAT team had taken the suspect's house down and made
an arrest."
He paled. "Are you upset that I didn't call you?"
She shook her head. "That doesn't count as a ditch.
Same city, you took a SWAT team with you...doesn't count."
She took another sip and paused, the lip of the glass poised
on her lip, the forefinger of the hand holding the glass
pointing at him, the nail sharp and soft at the same time.
"This time," she amended.
He nodded. "It all happened so fast; we didn't even use
the radios. We used landlines."
"What connected them, Mulder?"
"Tickets," he said.
She frowned. "Parking or speeding?"
"Speeding. Every single one of the victim's parents had
been stopped by this...this..."
"Monster," Scully helpfully supplied.
"Monster, right. Every single one of them had contested
the ticket in court, and had gotten off. Had the ticket
nullified."
Scully shook her head. "What would make someone
do...that because of tickets?"
Mulder shrugged. "It wasn't the tickets that made him
do it, Scully. It was a lifetime of being sick...sick in the
head, in the heart, in the soul. Sick of being a little man.
Most of them...most of them want to be cops, you know."
"Most of who?"
"Serial killers."
She nodded. "Any idea why?"
"Control. They like the fantasy of being able to stop
anyone, anywhere, any time and arrest them. Remove the
freedom of movement. The like the authority, the gun and the
badge, the handcuffs, the patrol car. They love the...power.
It's always about power."
She nodded again. "Makes sense, in a sick sort of way."
"Don't I know it," Mulder said, turning back to face
Norm and Cliff.
"So how did you figure it out?" Scully prompted.
"I got into his mind," Mulder said, his voice dead,
devoid of all emotion. "I crawled inside that maggot's mind
and looked around until I found what I was looking for. He
wasn't striking at the children; he was using the children
as a tool to get at the parents."
Scully finished her drink and moved to put the cup on
the night table. "Sick bastard," she muttered.
"Who? Him or me?" Mulder teased.
Scully was leaning over the side, her arm stretching
towards the table. Glancing up at the mirror over the
dresser she could see her partner's face reflected back at
her; he was looking at the TV but not really seeing it,
absently chewing his bottom lip, his brow furrowed.
She knee-walked over to him, coming up behind him, her
hands reaching for the knotted muscles of his shoulder.
"Shhh," she said, unnecessary because he wasn't
speaking. "Let me help," she whispered, starting to rub.
He leaned back into her hands, sighing.
"Nice," he moaned.
Yes, she thought. Yes it is.
"How was it for you?" he asked.
"It's only a backrub, Mulder."
"Not that," he laughed, though he knew she was kidding.
"The...autopsies."
"Hard," she admitted after a minute.
"Just be glad-" he started, and then stopped.
"What?"
"Nothing. Forget it."
"No, Mulder....what?"
He sighed. "I was going to say 'just be glad you don't
have any children,'...but then I realized how that sounded.
I'm sorry."
Her hands had paused their motions on his shoulder
while he spoke. When she moved them again, they were softer,
gentler. "I know what you meant," she said.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Scully insisted.
"I know how much-" he started, and then again, stopped.
"What?"
"Never mind. I'm running off at the mouth here."
"How much I want children?" she prompted.
He nodded.
"That's true," she agreed. "But not until I find the
right man."
She felt her face flame as soon as she'd spoken the
words.
The liquor must have affected me more than I thought,
she mused.
"I hope you do someday," Mulder said. "Find the right
man, I mean."
"Who says I haven't?" she teased.
The silence was everywhere. She could hear herself
breathing, hear him breathing, hear the television in the
background, but all around here there was nothing but
silence.
"I don't think I'd be a good father," Mulder said
softly.
Scully decided not to answer; to say anything more was
dangerous.
"Nonsense," she said anyway, surprising both of them.
"You'd spoil our children rotten and you know it."
Our children, Dana? she thought.
Our children, Scully? he thought.
"I...uh..." Mulder started.
"Forget I said it," she whispered. "I'm drunk."
"Me too," Mulder agreed. "But my father always said
that a drunk man says what a sober man thinks. Does that
apply to women too?"
Scully froze, afraid to move, afraid to speak.
"Sometimes," she said, surprising herself again.
He stood, escaping her grasp, disappointing her, moving
to the vanity to make another drink. "Do you think you
should?" she asked, hating the nagging tone that had crept
into her voice.
"I'd better," he answered, "If we're going to talk
about this."
"We don't have to talk about anything," she whispered,
and then blushed when she realized how that must have
sounded. "I mean-"
"Forget it. You're drunk," he teased.
"Thanks. Drink?"
"I'd better," she said, a smile teasing her face. "That
way I'll have something to blame when we wake up next to
each other without any clothes."
Whoa, Mulder thought, staggered by the mental image her
words provided.
"I'm sorry," Scully said, genuinely contrite. "I don't
know what's gotten into me."
"Jack Daniels," Mulder suggested. "A horrible case.
Eleven infant murders in four weeks. Eleven autopsies for
you, cutting little children up, little children that had
already been mutilated almost beyond-"
"Mulder!"
"...and for me, entering the mind, yet again, of
another psychopath. Another human monster. Another case
of...God... I don't even have the words to-"
Scully moved off the bed, moving to his side, not sure
why she was, only knowing that she had to.
"Here," she said, reaching for the cup he held. "I need
a belt."
Handing it to her, he watched as she tipped her head
back and drained the cup in a single long swallow. Her neck
was...pale, thin, delicate, his booze-addled brain reported
smugly.
He suddenly wanted to kiss her.
Only her.
Mulder worked the muscles in his jaw as he moved away,
trying to focus his attention on something else, anything
else.
"So where to now?" Scully asked as she made another
drink. Her sixth, by her own count. Her hands weren't
cooperating, and the bottle seemed to be moving away from
her as she grasped for it.
"Huh?"
"Well, what do we do? I've never gotten drunk after a
case before. I assume there's some sort of...ritual or
something. A script."
"No. No script. We just drink until we don't feel
anything anymore, fall asleep in our clothes, wake up hung
over, go to breakfast and try to forget we ever heard of
this little shit hick town."
Scully nodded, taking another healthy gulp.
"Damn," she muttered, teasing him again.
"Damn what?"
"That falling asleep with all our clothes on part," she
explained coyly.
Danger danger danger, Mulder's brain screamed. He
flashed back to another town and another case, this one also
imbued with alcohol, only then it had been a bottle-blond
detective, homemade screwdrivers and a cosmic G-spot.
No excuse now except a bottle of Jack Daniels and a
fiery redhead whom he wanted to walk over to, tear the
clothes from her and devour whole.
Danger, he reminded himself.
Partner.
Friend.
Good friend. Best friend.
Down, boy.
"Tell me something," Scully said.
"What?"
"I don't know. Anything. Tell me a fantasy of yours."
She moved to the bed and sat against the pillows she'd
piled against the headboards.
"Scully, you don't want to hear my fantasies," Mulder
said. He was standing by the door, peeking through the
blinds at the night beyond the room.
"Sure I do, Mulder."
He glanced at her. "Only if you tell me one of yours
first."
She shook her head. "No way, Mulder. No fucking way."
She clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled. "Whoops! Said
'fuck!' Not very ladylike!"
"Why not?"
"Why what not? I mean, why not what?" She giggled
again.
Oh Lord, I'm toasted, she thought. Ripped. Wasted.
Cronked. Tight. Pickled.
"Why won't you fucking tell me your fantasies?" he
said.
"B-because...because..." she struggled to find a good
reason. Hell, a halfway decent reason would do now. "Because
they're secret!" she finally proclaimed.
He grinned at her. "Scully, you're drunk!"
"Right on!" she said, lifting her empty glass.
She stood to get a refill and stumbled, falling back
onto the bed.
"N-need another," she whispered. "'nother drink. Make
me a drink, Mulder."
"Scully-"
"Mox Fulder! You will...did I just call you 'Mox?'" She
paused, trying to form the words. "Fox. Mulder. There we
go...Fox Mulder, you make me another drink before I
kill myself getting over there!"
Sighing, he moved to comply, but Scully beat him there
after struggling to her feet and teetering her way over.
"Looks like blood," she said softly.
"What?"
"Blood. Dries brown, ya know. When you cut into a body
after it's been dead a while, some of the blood in the
contained cavities, like the skull, the pelvis...comes out
brown, gooey. Like this," she said, holding up the now half-
empty bottle of Jack Daniels. "We're drinking blood,
Mulder."
A sudden memory of Kristin popped into Mulder's mind
and he shuddered.
"Whssamatter?"
"Nothing. You were going to tell me your fantasies," he
said.
"Tha's right...anyway, Hawaii, right?" She stopped, her
drunken eyes narrowing, attempting to focus on Mulder.
"Wait. A. Minute. I told you I wouldn't tell you
anything..."
She considered this for a moment. "Ah, fuck it."
"God, Scully. Potty mouth!"
"You know it!" she said, toasting him with a glass that
no soda in it at all, just four inches of dark, rich
Kentucky sour mash.
"Scully, if you drink that you'll be sorry," Mulder
said, reaching for it.
"Mine!" Scully said, violently moving to avoid his
grasping hand.
The liquid sloshed in the glass, spilling over her
clutching fingers.
"Shit!" she said, switching the glass to her other
hand. "Don't want to waste it." She proceeded to lick her
own fingers and the back of her hand. Mulder watched,
mesmerized, as she bathed herself like a cat.
Danger, his mind warned again. Get away. Now.
He didn't move.
She glanced up at him, seeing him watching her.
"Sorry," she slurred. "Not very ladylike, huh?"
"Sometimes," he said, slowly, carefully, "it's very...
interesting when you let your guard down and stop acting
like such a..."
He couldn't finish it.
So she did.
"Tight-ass?"
He gulped but didn't nod. "Thas' ok, Mulder," she said,
all drunken merriment. "I know I'm a pain the ass. Party-
pooper. All serious all the time." She scowled comically.
"Agent Scully, FBI!" she said, reaching for her ID.
It wasn't there.
"Freeze, or name your beneficiary!" she mocked.
"God, Scully," Mulder laughed, "You're wasted!"
"Damn' tootin!" she screamed. "You're right
Mulder...this was a good idea. Get blasted. Wasted.
Snookered. Forget it. Forget all of it. Forget the little
bodies cut open on my table, their organs in my hands..." He
saw the tears starting and knew that he was powerless to
stop them, knew that they would have to come. "...did
you..." She stopped, then started again. "Did you know that
a baby's heart is... tiny, Mulder? It's so
small....so...tiny." Her voice hitched. "And the
brain...tiny...soft...untouched. No memories. Can't speak
yet. Can only absorb information." The tears were flowing
freely now, her shoulders hitching as she spoke. "None of
those children even had a birthday party, Mulder!"
He touched her shoulder and she collapsed against him,
her hands going around his waist.
Donnie Pfaster, he thought, and didn't know why. After
a minute, he remembered.
She sobbed against him, still speaking. "Eyes, Mulder.
Only the eyes remain the same."
"What?"
She sniffled, snorting back some of the mucus. "When
you're born, your eyes are the size they're always going to
be. The eyes are the only thing that don't grow, Mulder."
She pulled back but not away, looking up at her
partner's eyes. She reached a tentative hand out to his
face. "Your eyes...when you were born...they looked just
like this."
Her fingers on his skin almost made him flinch.
Danger, his mind said.
Who-hoo! his body responded. Despite the two drinks
he'd had, his body responded to her touch, to her nearness.
"I doubt it," he said.
"It's a medical fact!" she insisted.
"No...I mean, I'm sure they were this size and
color...but I don't think they looked like they do now."
Scully frowned, trying to focus on his words, his
meaning. "W-what?"
"They hadn't seen what I've seen. Then, I mean."
Scully somehow thought that they probably did look as
sad and... well, she would've said 'empty,' but right now
they didn't look empty. They looked...
Limpid, her mind supplied and she had to suppress a
laugh.
Limpid pools of light, a voice announced. Like in a
cheesy romance novel.
That's because he's looking at her mind announced.
Danger, she thought, and moved to put some distance between them.
And then she felt it.
Felt him.
Hard, hot, erect.
Her eyes widened and she looked at him, seeing that he
knew she felt it.
"Sorry," he whispered, moving away from her, leaving
her standing there, alone.
"Don't be," she said, meaning it. "Pretty flattering,
considering."
He stopped, speaking to the door. "Considering what?"
"I'm drunk, I'm crying, I'm your partner. You figure it
out."
"You're more than a partner to me, Dana," he said.
Oh, Dana is it? she thought.
"Scully," he amended.
That's better.
"So what am I, then?"
He coughed to cover his nervousness.
"No, really, Mulder. What am I to you?"
He thought about it. Thought about the dozens of
responses he'd wanted to give to that question over the past
years.
"You're...my...." he stopped, searching. "Friend," he
finished.
"You always get a stiffie around your friends, Mulder?"
she prodded. "Explains why the Lone Gunmen like you so
much."
Mulder turned to face her; Scully stood by the vanity,
the empty cup in her hand, arms folded across her chest. He
couldn't see her feet from where he stood, but he imagined
that one of them was tapping impatiently against the carpet.
"Uh..."
"Just admit it, Mulder."
"Admit what?"
"You find me attractive. As a woman."
He smiled. "Of course I do, Scully!"
She sighed, dropping her arms. "Forget it. Forget I
said anything. Forget I brought it up."
He took a tentative step towards her. "Scully?"
"Forget it, Mulder. Topic closed." She waved a
dismissive hand at him.
"No," he insisted. "You're upset about something."
She spun on him. "Friend? That's all I am to you is a
friend?"
"Uh-"
"No, let's have it, Mulder. Tell me. Tell me the truth.
Do you find me attractive?"
Oh shit, he thought. Oh shit shit shit.
"Uh-"
"No, really, Mulder. Let me have it. Lay it out for me.
How do you feel about your tight-assed partner...as a
woman?"
He took another step. "I mean, since we're not involved
or anything, you can tell me, right? What am I doing wrong,
Mulder? Why don't I have a life? Why am I spending my weeks
cutting up...little babies?" Scully dissolved into tears,
her hands coming up to her face, hiding herself from him.
Turning back to the vanity she dropped her hands and
spoke to the mirror. "Why can't I meet someone who
understands me? My life? My choices?"
She spun on him again. "Why do I feel like I have to
share myself with you and whomever I want in my life?"
That brought Mulder up short. He'd felt the same way,
but had never managed to put into words.
"Death," Scully whispered at the mirror. "I'm
surrounded... we're surrounded by death. Everywhere we
turn...death. My father. Your father. Melissa. Death
everywhere we look. I stink of it, Mulder. I smell like
Death." She looked up at her own face in the mirror over the
vanity. "I have become it. Death, thy name is Scully, Dana
Katherine."
"Stop it!" Mulder said, taking the six steps between
them quickly. His hands came up and found her shoulders,
rubbing the knotted muscles. "Just stop it!" He put his chin
on the top of her head and studied her reflection.
"Scully, you're not Death. You're a beautiful, vital,
intelligent, sexy woman. You are not 'death.'"
"You think so?" she asked, her voice small. "Y-you're
not just saying that?"
He spoke to her reflection, because that was safer.
"Scully, if we weren't partners, I'd ask you out."
Oh my God! Did I just that?
She turned in his embrace, sliding her arms around his
middle, tipping her head back to stare at him.
"Really?" she asked.
He nodded. "Really."
She leaned up on her toes and kissed him softly,
chastely.
"Thank you," she said. "I needed to hear that." From
you, she thought but didn't say. God, how I needed to hear
you say that, Mulder.
And then she frowned. "Ask me out? What are we, in high
school?"
"W-what?"
She moved against him, thrilling to the feel of his
body. "Ask me out, Mulder...what an adolescent phrase. Would
you want to date me, Mulder? Ask me to the prom? Like
Marcus?"
Marcus, Mulder thought. And then he saw Scully, a young
Scully, in her prom dress.
"Emerald green, right?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yeah. How did-?"
"Only color that would highlight that hair perfectly."
"You like my hair?" she asked.
He smiled down at her, the danger bells ringing loudly
in his ears. "Scully, you have beautiful hair."
"Bozo hair," she said sadly, pouting. Mulder could
almost hear the playground taunts.
"An angel's hair," he said, leaning down to her.
Danger, she thought.
EXTREME danger, he thought.
Neither moved.
"We'd better..." she started.
"Stop," he finished.
"Before..."
"This gets out of hand."
He moved away from her then, back to the other side of
the bed, putting distance, space between them. She was ten
feet away.
He missed her horribly.
"Mulder," she said.
"What?"
"Wanna get out of hand?"
-3-
"First you take a drink, and then the drink takes
a drink...and then the drink takes you."
- F. Scott FitzGerald
He thought that his heart would stop.
"Excuse me?"
She turned to face him, shrugging her jacket off,
reaching behind and unclipping her holster. She slapped it
against the vanity. The leather and metal made a loud clunk!
against the Formica.
Slowly, she pushed away from the vanity, her eyes
tracking him, pinning him where he stood.
"S-scully," he stuttered.
She said nothing, taking another step towards him, her
fingers moving to the buttons on her blouse. She fumbled the
first one and then found it, thumbing it through the hole.
It came undone with a whisper of silk against silk.
"S-scully!" he said again.
"What, Mulder?" Another step, a small smile teasing her
mouth.
"We're both drunk," he started, holding up a hand. She
was close enough to touch it, but didn't. "We are both
emotionally... naked right now."
"Oooh, naked," Scully breathed. "Nice image."
"Scully...we'd both regret it in the morning!" Mulder
tried one last time.
"We can blame it on the booze," Scully said, reaching
out and taking his hand. Opening her mouth, she slid one of
his fingers inside, closing her lips around it.
And sucking.
Mulder's mouth fell open and he gasped, blinking to
regain his focus. "Scully...it's not that I don't want to,"
he started, moving towards her. She waited for him, her eyes
turned up towards his, his finger still in her mouth. "I
don't think I " he whispered.
Her other hand came down and found him.
He was right. There was nothing. She backed off,
frowning. "Before," she said slowly, "you were ready. I
mean...your body was ready. Why not..." She stopped,
suddenly understanding.
"It's me, isn't it?"
"What?"
"You said you'd ask me out, Mulder. Would you fuck me?"
Again, his mouth dropped open, this time from shock,
not arousal. "That's the alcohol talking," he said, pointing
a finger at her.
"Yeah, maybe choosing the words, but the question's
mine, Mulder."
"Oh."
She waited a beat, then two, then three. "So answer
it."
"Probably not," he said softly. Furious, she turned
away from him, wanting to be somewhere else, anywhere else.
He reached out and found her shoulder, slowly turning her
back to face him. "Ask me why, Scully."
Her head was down, showing him nothing of her face.
When she glanced up he saw the tears, the pain, the hurt in
her eyes and he hated himself again, hated himself all over
again, from the beginning, as if it were a new feeling
instead of an old, familiar friend.
"Why, Mulder? Because I'm not tall and leggy and busty
like those plastic women you lust after in the magazines? In
the videos?"
He smiled at her, a soft, warm smile that lit a spark
in her heart again. As hurt as she was, as angry as she was,
all he had to do was give her that smile, that special
Mulder smile that she liked to think was reserved just for
her, and it was all better.
"No," he said quietly. "Because the first time we make
love, I want it to be that...making love, not fucking."
She gasped, her hand coming to her mouth, and then both
arms were going around his neck, drawing him to her as she
buried her face in his shoulder. Apparently, he thought, I
said exactly the right thing.
And then she was crying, sobbing against him. From
fear, anger, relief...Mulder couldn't tell. He pulled back,
ducking his head to catch her eye. "Scully?"
"W-w-w-what?"
"What's the matter?"
"I don't kn-kn-know."
His hands dropped from her shoulders, coming up to find
her face, his thumbs stroking the gentle arch of her cheeks
as he tilted her face to see his. "What?" he asked.
"I want you so bad," she whispered. "And I know how
crude and drunk that sounds...and how totally unromantic
this night is...and how drunk we both are...and how if we
did anything tonight after four years of not doing anything
we'd regret it for the rest of our lives, but Mulder,
God...Mulder, if we don't do something tonight I think I'm
going to regret it longer than the rest of my life because I
want you so bad right now, I want you to touch me and hold
me and kiss me and make love to me; I want you to make me
feel alive, Mulder. I want you to make it all go away, the
death, the faces of those children, the face of that monster
when you brought him into the station and they all looked at
you like you'd betrayed them, like you'd done something
wrong by arresting one of them; I want it all to go away,
Mulder. Make it go away, please? Make it go away." She
collapsed against him again, her arms sliding around his
abdomen. "Please, make it go away," she whispered.
He turned slightly and sat on the bed, bringing her
down with him, seating her in his lap. Her head was against
her shoulder, her legs tossed over his crosswise. He rocked
her for a moment, looking for the words.
"Make it go away," she whispered, taking the
opportunity to kiss his temple. "Make it go away," she
repeated, moving her mouth along his hairline, heading for
his ear. "Make it all go away," she said again and again.
"Please, Mulder...make it go away."
"If we do this," he said softly, using his hands on her
arms to stop her from kissing him, bringing her face to his.
"If we do this... the next time is only going to be easier,
Scully. The next time a case gets to us, either of us, and
the other knows it, we're going to remember this night.
We're going to want...this again. We're going to want to be
able to get drunk, take off all our clothes and make each
other feel better."
"What's so wrong about that?" Scully moaned.
"Nothing," Mulder agreed. "Except this: You and I
aren't going to have a relationship, Scully."
She nodded. This....this, she knew.
"We're still going to be friends, right?"
"Of course," she said, dipping her mouth to his, taking
a quick taste.
"Friends with privileges?" he continued.
"What? Like borrowing my car?" she asked, kissing along
his jawline.
"No. Like sleeping with each other."
That stopped her.
"I don't want this to be a random event," he said
slowly, evenly. God, she thought. Mulder the womanizer
actually has scruples!
Of all the times...
Sighing, she moved off his lap, back to the bed,
plopping down. "I've had enough to drink," she announced.
"Hell, yeah," Mulder said.
She shot him a glance. "And you're starting to ruin my
buzz, Mr. Scruples."
He turned to her. "Don't you think I want to? Don't you
think that it took every single ounce of my self-control not
to agree with you? Not to tear the clothes off that sexy
body of yours and ravish and ravage you? Don't you think I
wanted to lose myself inside you tonight? Don't you think I
fantasize about you all the damn time? About holding you and
kissing you and making love with you?"
Whoops, his mind said. Too much information, Mulder.
"Fantasize?" Scully said. "All the damn time?"
"Uh-"
"That changes everything," Scully smiled. She pushed
her partner's chest until he fell back against the bed.
Swinging a leg over his hip, she straddled him.
"Listen to me, Mox Fulder," she started, and then
stopped, covering her mouth and giggling. "Fox. Mulder."
Taking a deep breath, she continued.
"You listen and you listen good. I need this. We need
this." He started to open his mouth and she put her fingers
across his lips. "Just shut your mouth and listen." She took
a breath and continued. "I can't promise you a rose garden.
I can't even promise you tomorrow. I can promise that I'll
try, that we'll try. I promise you that no matter what
happens us come the morning, we'll still be friends." She
moved closer, her eyes boring into his. "But right now,
Mulder, right here...tonight, I need you. I need you to make
me feel alive, wanted, desired, vital. I need you to make
love with me. I need to connect with you....you, Mulder, not
some morphing lookalike. Not some stranger I pick up in a
tattoo parlor. I need you, Mulder. Here. Now."
She closed his mouth with a kiss. It was a soft, gentle
kiss, as kisses went, and then it caught fire and grew. His
hands slid up her back and into her hair, his fingers
threading through the silken mane. He used his hands to
guide her, to bring her to him harder, harsher, his lips
hungry, bruising against hers. She felt his passion throttle
back, his self-imposed governor kicking in.
She backed away. "No, Mulder. Don't hold back. Give it
to me. Give yourself to me. All of you."
She saw the fear in his eyes.
"I can take it," she grinned. "I'm a big girl."
She lowered her mouth to his, her tongue reaching out,
licking his lips. "Give me all you got, copper," she
whispered.
His mouth captured hers again, hungrier this time, and
she let herself go. For the first time in her life, Dana
Scully didn't care about tomorrow, didn't care about
consequences, didn't care about what any of this meant.
There were no questions in her mind, no worries about
pregnancies or disease. Nothing crossed her mind but the
single-minded passion she had for this man in this room on
this night. All that she thought about was the feel of his
lips on hers, the burning sensation his hands made as he
touched her body, as his fingers made short, practiced work
of her buttons. She felt the blouse sliding off her shoulder
and she silently wondered at how this man could be so
passionate and so gentle at the same time; his mouth was
devouring hers, his tongue dipping inside her mouth again
and again, tracing the outlines and contours of her own
tongue, her teeth, the wet sucking warmth of her, while at
the same time he was gently removing her bra now, his
fingers working the catch like a pro. She felt the sudden
release of the elastic and was suddenly shy, remembering the
images that he touched himself to, the parade of surgically-
enhanced perfection that graced his fantasies.
No, her mind corrected; grace his fantasies. He
told you that. Bold now, she realized that he had never seen
her like this; naked, close to naked, sure...but never in
the height of arousal, never with this look of hunger in
your eyes, on your face.
Show him what he's in for, her ego demanded, and she
complied. She leaned back, throwing her arms to the side,
flicking her wrist, trying to get the offending garment off
her chest.
It went flying as his hands discovered her naked
breasts for the first time. Scully gasped as his fingers
captured her secret flesh. How long? her drunken mind
wondered. How long have I wanted his touch on my body like
this? How long have I craved his fingers touching me,
stroking me, finding my nipples...oh...just...like...that.
His mouth closed over the left one, his tongue circling
and then spiraling, his sharp, white teeth coming down to
nip and tug at it, drawing them away from the soft curve of
her breast, trapping it between his lips as he licked it,
back and forth, drawing patterns on it with his tongue, the
fingers from his hands stroking her ribs, up and down,
sending shivers rocketing up and down her spine.
"Oh my god Ohmygod!" she called to the ceiling, her
palms flat against his shoulder blades, her neck thrown back
so far she could see the door, upside down, in her field of
vision.
He switched breasts, his hands replacing his mouth on
the first one, his talented tongue and lips and teeth moving
to the right one.
"Oh God Mulder..." Scully moaned, her fingernails
digging into his skin. He stood, bringing her with him,
turning around in place and then gently placing her back on
the bed. He backed off, his eyes hungry, possessive. She'd
never seen that exact look in his eyes before and it
thrilled her, it aroused her, it made her feel alive and
sexy and desired. He looked like an animal, she thought, all
the vestiges of civilization stripped away. The fact that he
was still wearing clothes seemed almost the antithesis of
his expression.
His hands went to his shirt. The pop!pop!pop! of
buttons exploding was replaced by the plastic impact and
skittering sound as one of them landed on the bedside table
and rolled off.
His feet were working at the same time his hands went
to his belt. She watched him fumble with it, and a part of
her yearned to lean up and help him, but another part, a
voyeuristic part of her that had waited for this day for a
long, long time decided to sit back and enjoy it. Yes, she
reminded herself, she'd seen him naked more than once, but
this was different. This was him himself naked for
her, wanting to be next to her, wanting her to him,
all of him, wanting her to drink in his glorious nakedness.
He was nude in a matter of seconds, it seemed, and he
straightened after lowering his boxers to his ankles and
stepping out of them and she watched as the muscles in his
legs and stomach flexed as he straightened, his maleness
bobbing from his groin, red and eager and hungry.
Hungry for her own wetness, her own softness.
Scully felt moist and swollen, as slick as she ever
had. Her hands went to her pants, wanting them gone, wanting
all of it gone, wanting to be just as naked as he was, just
as open, as accessible as he was.
"No." His voice was soft, hoarse, but it the command in
it was unmistakable.
Her hands stilled.
"I want to," he said. She let him.
He pulled her upright, his hands moving to her own belt
as his mouth descended on hers again. She threw her arms
around his neck, her groin molding against his, her body
arching towards him.
"Can't..." he moaned. "Gimme a minute.." he said, and
she leaned back, giving his hands room to maneuver again. He
stripped her quickly, making short work of her pants and
pantyhose.
No underwear, he noticed, glancing up at her with a
smile. He doesn't know, she realized. As intimate as we are,
he doesn't know that when I wear pantyhose, I don't wear
panties.
That odd detail, for some strange reason, made her
smile.
And the smile dissolved into a long, throaty moan when
he pushed her back against the bed, using his shoulder to
hook her knee and spread her legs. She was open for him,
wet, ready, waiting, and she gritted her teeth, knowing that
it had been so long since a man had been there, inside her,
and it was going to be painful for just a second; again, he
seemed to read her mind and he stopped, instead lowering his
face between her legs, his breath hot on the skin of her
thighs, his tongue reaching for her.
And it was new, something new, something no one had
ever done to her, something she had only wondered,
fantasized, dreamed about. And then he was doing it; she
could feel the slick, hot, pebbly wetness of his tongue
tracing her outline, finding her slick center and
penetrating her just a little bit, and then he was licking
up, up, up, towards her the little bundle of-
Scully's thighs snapped closed around his head when he
found it. Her fingers went to his hair and gripped, hard,
pulling him against her, grinding herself against his face.
The orgasm was intense, unexpected, roaring in her ears,
taking all control with it. Scully stopped being a woman and
became something else, something primeval, something more
animal than human. All that existed was her pleasure, was
the rocketing, exploding spasms of pleasure detonating
throughout her body. All that existed was her, him, this
room and his tongue. Every single other thing vanished from
her mind.
Mulder, she thought. Only Mulder could ever make me
feel this way. And then it was too much; the pleasure became
too intense, and she felt herself climbing impossibly
higher, getting closer to a point she had never been, a
place where pleasure and pain melted into a single
sensation, a place where she didn't want to go, but a place
he was taking her whether she wanted to or not.
She tried to scoot away from him, and he followed her,
his tongue reaching for her, stroking her, his hands on her
thighs, spreading her open for him. Her feet were flat
against the bed, and she was just so wide and so wet and so
slick and so heavy there, she thought. It felt like she had
a twenty-pound pulsing mass of sucking flesh between her
legs.
"No," she whispered, and she felt him hesitate and she
knew what he was thinking. "Yes," she said again. "Oh, yes."
Eager to go there, eager to have him take her there, eager
to see what was on the other side.
And he showed her.
The detached part of her brain called up an old joke.
God, in the Garden of Eden, carrying a bag. What's in the
bag, Adam asks. Oh, just stuff left over from creating
humankind, God replies. Stuff I don't know what to do with.
We'll take it, Adam replies. Whatdaya got? God rummages
through the bag. Ok, who wants to pee standing up? God asks.
Oooh! Oooh! Adam says, waving his hand. I do! I do! So God
nods, and it's so. Rummaging back through the bad, he turns
to Eve. Ok, all I have left is...multiple orgasms.
And at that moment, if Scully could have met Eve, she
would have shook the woman's hand, because for the first
time in her life, Scully felt the pleasure waves detonating
one after the other, coming so fast and so close together
that they stopped being individual orgasms and became one
huge long wet constant oh my god I'm dying I'm dying this is
the only way oh my god!
Black.
She came around after a minute, feeling Mulder gently
licking her there, like a kitten. He seemed to know that she
was supersensitive and he avoided those places, catching
some damp curls with his teeth and gently pulling,
heightening the pleasure with little snaps of almost-pain.
"Mulder," she wheezed.
He rose above her, erect, ready, fire in his eyes. She
felt her breath lock in her throat at the expression on his
face. She reached for him, grasping him, guiding him to her.
And then he was inside her, spreading her, moving slowly,
letting her get used to him.
Oh god, he thought. So hot wet slick tight. Scully. My
Scully. Scully. Scully. Scully. And then he was in her all
the way, completely joined.
Finally.
"Dana," he breathed.
"Fox," she said, glad that she could call him that at
last.
His eyes lost some of their fire for a moment, replaced
instead by tenderness.
She didn't want that. Not tonight. Some day, some day
soon, she would want tenderness.
But not tonight. Tonight, she wanted to be an animal.
She wanted to throw caution to the wind. "Fuck me," she
growled, her hands on his ass, her fingers digging into his
skin.
He did. Long, slow strokes, not wanting to go too fast,
wanting to make it last, wanting to build the speed and the
rhythm. She moved with him, her legs coming up and around
his waist, using the heels of her feet to encourage him, to
pull him to her.
Slick, he thought. Hot wet tight slick.
He began to move more quickly, and then they found
their mutual rhythm. Faster and faster they moved. She saw
the look on his face, knew he was close, knew he was almost
there.
"Come," she whispered. "Come for me. Come in me."
The last tendril of Mulder's control snapped. He buried
himself inside her, erupting again and again, filling her
completely.
Sighing, he collapsed, remembering at the last minute
to roll, bringing her with him. She ended up on top, looking
down at his sweaty face.
"How do you feel now?" he gasped.
"Alive," she replied.
-4-
The Next Morning
"Looking out on the morning rain
I used to feel so uninspired
And when I knew I had to face another day
Lord, it made me feel so tired
Before the day I met you...life was so unkind
But you're the key to my peace of mind
Because you make me feel
you make me feel
you make me feel like a natural woman....
When my soul was in the lost and found
You came along to claim it
I didn't know just what was wrong with me
till your kiss helped me name it
now I'm no longer doubtful of what I'm living for
and if I make you happy I don't need to do more..."
-(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman
Aretha Franklin
Scully was awake, at the window, peeking through the
curtain at the gray morning light.
"It's raining," she said when she heard Mulder shift on
the bed.
He said nothing. She turned to him, a soft smile on her
lips. A cautious smile, Mulder thought.
Second thoughts?
"No," she said, as if reading his mind. "Not a one."
"What now?" he asked.
"I poured the rest of the Jack Daniels down the drain,"
Scully announced.
Mulder nodded, but said nothing.
"I want to make love with you," she said softly,
"without any excuse."
He smiled, and his smile banished the gray light.
--- ---
THE END
Little Content Thing At The Bottom : This story contains
scenes that refer back to very heinous crimes. The actual
crimes happen `off camera,' but we do hear a news report
about them. This story contains unsafe sexual contact
between two adults that care about each over very, very
deeply. I maintain that in my iteration of the X-Files
universe, STD's and the like do NOT exist. Anyone that uses
a fan fiction story to either teach or preach about safe sex
is an insane person. This story contains scenes of two
adults imbibing alcoholic beverages and, while inebriated,
making decisions that are best left to the sober. This story
contains about 75% of the RDA of Angst and Heartache. It's
not nearly as bad as "Sixty," was, but there are some
heartfelt tears cried by both characters. Your mileage may
vary. Not for internal use. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Copyright stuff:
----------------
"(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman" by Gerry Goffin,
Carole King and Jerry Wexler. Copyright c 1967,
Atlantic/BMI/ASCAP. All rights reserved. Used by permission.
Heard on "Aretha Franklin:30 Greatest Hits." Please note
that although this is a digital document, we cannot hope to
reproduce the sound of the original two-track stereo analog
mix.
---
Dawson E. Rambo | drambo@azstarnet.com | Author & Programmer
"Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy
and taste good with ketchup." -- bumper sticker