TITLE: Wrong Reasons
AUTHOR: Brekke (elseheavens@hotmail.com)
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

SUMMARY: Mulder gets drunk and comes face to face with a few
truths.

NOTES: It's kind of meandering and plotless, but it has a point.

XXXXXXXXX

"You look like hell."

The voice came from somewhere to his right. Feminine. Not Scully.
It was distinctly disturbing, he decided, how he distinguished
everything and everyone he stumbled across in terms of Scully.
The psychologist in him knew exactly what that meant and it was
a concept he wasn't ready to face yet.

Hence the quarter empty bottle of Whisky that was making him
so blurry. He squinted up at the stranger regarding him from
across the counter and managed to identify her as the barkeeper.

He emptied his glass. "Thanks," he replied shortly, turning his
attention back to more pressing matters -- namely getting drunk
beyond belief.

The barkeeper, however, was not deterred. "Hey no problem,
anytime," she retorted generously. "What was her name?"

Mulder glanced up, confused. "Her who?" Was she talking about
Scully? Did she know Scully?

The barmaid shrugged. "Or him. Must've been some guy to mess
you up likle this," she offered sympathetically.

Mulder stared at her in bewilderment for a moment, before it all
came together quite suddenly for his drink-addled brain. "Whoa,
I haven't broken up with anyone," he corrected her.

"Oh?" she looked surprised. "Unrequited love then? Who is he?"

Mulder glared at her for a moment in irritation. Why was it that
everyone assumed he was gay? "Stop saying 'he'," he grumbled.
"'He' is actually a woman." And what a woman, thought Mulder,
his thoughts drifting back to Scully -- strong, intelligent,
beautiful, faithful, sex puppy ... Shit. He must be drunk.

"Right," the barmaid smirked triumphantly. "Now we're getting
somewhere. Who is she?"

He sighed into his glass. "Scully."

The barmaid looked confused. "Who?"

Mulder looked up at her like she was stupid. "Scully. My Scully,"
he clarified for her. "My best friend. My partner."

"Partner? I thought you said you weren't --"

"My *work* partner," Mulder cut in.

The barmaid whistled softly. "You sure know how to pick 'em," she
observed. "Didn't anyone tell you collaegues are off limits?"

Mulder poured himself another drink and mumbled to himself.

The barmaid regarded him sympathetically. "I fell in love with
a work colleague once," she offered.

Mulder glared at her. "I am *not* in love with Scully," he told
her in no uncertain terms.

The barmaid raised a skeptical eyebrow. "So you're in a bar,
getting yourself blind drunk over a work partner, for *what*
reason?"

"She's my friend," he told her emphatically. "We've been partners
for six years. We're close."

"Oh," the barmaid nodded. "So how come didn't it progress
further? She dog ugly?"

Mulder snapped out of his reverie and glared at the barmaid
once again. He was really begining to dislike this woman. "She's
beautiful," he told her as if daring her to say otherwise.

"Oh," the barmaid conceded. "So is it an intelligence thing? Is
she a bimbo?"

"Scully's a medical doctor. She graduated the top of her class,"
he almost bragged.

"Personality?" she ventured. "Arrogant? Cowardly? Help me out
here. Is she a downright bitch?"

Now Mulder was practically bridling. "No! She's the strongest,
kindest, courageous person I know."

The barmaid raised her eyebrow once again. "Soooo," she began
dragging out the vowel. "She's beautiful, intelligent, strong,
kind and courageous, not to mention you're best friend and you're
*not* in love with her?" she regarded Mulder speculatively for a
moment. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

She had a point, Mulder decided. And if some miscellaneous
barmaid in some miscellaneous bar knows your secret, then it was
even bets that most everyone who had ever met you must know.
Somehow Mulder was not surprised.

Still, Mulder decided he had to maintain some dignity, and so he
went for one more denial. "You don't understand. She's my friend,
I love her. It's just not sexual..." The arguement sounded
weak even to him. And false.

The barmaid shrugged. "Whatever you say," she conceded finally.
"Can I have her phone number?"

Mulder's gaze became a glare once more. "Can you *what*?"

The barmaid shrugged again, nochalantly. "You said it yourself,
she's beautiful, intellegent, with a great personality and she's
obviously a good friend -- she sounds exactly like my type."

Mulder was confused. "You want to ... with my Scully?" He must've
heard wrong. He *had* to have heard wrong.

"Not on the first date," the barmaid asserted with a barely
supressed grin. "But yeah, I'd like to date her. You don't
meet many nice women working in a bar like this one, you know."

Mulder shook his head, trying to gather together his fuzzy
nerves. "Scully's not ... she's straight."

The barmaid frowned. "Are you sure?"

For the first time in their six years of partnership Mulder
stopped and seriously considered Scully's sexuality. Jack Willis.
Ed Jerse. Hell, even Pendrell. "Scully is straight," he told the
barmaid finally.

"Whatever you say," the barmaid said a little resignedly.
"Mention it to her, though. You might be suprised."

Mulder shook his head vehemently. "I'm not about to start setting
up dates for Scully."

"Why? You got plans for her yourself? Don't be selfish. There's
a shortage of beautiful, intelligent women, you know, and if you
don't want to fall in love with her, then I can guarantee there
are plenty of men *and* women who'd love to."

"It's not about wanting to fall in love with her, anymore,"
Mulder muttered into his drink. "I *am* in love with her."

The barmaid sighed. Finally. "Was that so damn hard?"

No reply. Mulder swallowed his drink and mumbled to himself.

"Tell her."

"No," Mulder replied shortly.

The barmaid rolled her eyes. "Do I have to go back to the
shortage of women?" she shook her head. Some people were stupid.
They'd have these wonderful gifts fall into their laps and then
ignore them, while others could only dream of having what they
had. "Don't waste a good thing. Tell her."

"She doesn't love me," he mumbled into his drink.

"So?"

Mulder blinked. He hadn't expected that. He'd expected a 'you
never know' speech, or perhaps the 'of course she loves you'
speech. Not just a simple 'so'. He stared at her blankly.

"So she doesn't love you back? So what? Love is the most intimate
thing that can happen to anyone. Don't you think your Scully
deserves to know it's happening to her?"

"It's not about her."

"You're in love with *her*."

"You don't understand!"

"Do you?"

Mulder let the adrenaline that had been pumping in his veins
dissipate. "Not really," he answered truthfully.

Without speaking, the barmaid gently plied the glass from his
hand and took the bottle away from him. Mulder did not argue.
"Tell her," she insisted softly. "Now, and stop cluttering up
my bar." The last was added with a smile.

Mulder obeyed reluctantly and staggered out of the bar and onto
the street, waving down a cab and collapsing into the backseat
before really thinking about where he was going. "Georgetown,"
he told the driver finally and hoped to God he'd made the right
decision.

XXXXXXXXX

Scully had been relaxing on her sofa watching a little bit of
late night television when she'd heard the pounding on her door.
She glanced at the clock on her VCR. One AM. Most people were in
bed by now. She should've been in bed by now. Who the hell would
be banging on her door?

Even before she pulled the door open to meet his gaze, in the
back of her mind, Scully already had her answer. Mulder.

He was quite a sight. His hair was ruffled awfully, with half of
it standing up on end. He was still wearing his jacket, although
his shirt was hanging out and his tie was half undone. And to
top it all off, his eyes were bleary and he was swaying slightly
on his feet.

"I guess this means we'll be taking off to Dallas again," she
joked dryly, opening the door to admit him.

He stumbled in with a mumbled, "Thanks," and flopped down on the
sofa. He patted the space beside him and Scully reluctantly
joined him.

"What's this about Mulder?" she probed gently. "We have the
X-files. We're both healthy and for once, we actually seem to
be getting somewhere. I thought we were okay."

Mulder was silent a moment, regarding her curiously before
sighing a sigh that tore at her heart.

She reached out and placed a hand on his forearm. "Mulder?"

He sighed again. "Nothing's wrong, Scully," he reassured her.
"It's just ... Scully when this is all over. When the good guys
have won and everything. What will you do?"

Scully had expected many questions, but that wasn't one of them.
She drew back her hand and leaned back heavily against the sofa.
"I ... I guess I never thought about it." Truth be told she
didn't really believe it would ever be over.

"I have," Mulder murmured quietly.

Scully retreated from her introspection and regarded him with
her clear blue gaze. "And?" she asked softly.

He began softly, his voice lulling, almost spellbinding. Scully
was tranfixed. "No one would ever know it was us. No one would
ever know there was any danger, and we wouldn't be brash and try
to claim a title as 'hero'. That wouldn't be our style. We'd have
proof, though. And we'd be able to share it.

"We'd quit the FBI, and maybe leave DC. Either way we'd wind up
in some city, where you could practice and I could maybe lecture
at a University. We'd have some big old expensive house just
outside of the city and a sedan, and some fish who'd actually
survive more than a month.

"We'd live together, Scully. Nothing improper, of course. But
we'd be with each other as much as we are now. More. I miss you
when we're apart Scully. I wouldn't have to if we lived together.

"Anyway, we'd go about our lives that way, until I'd finally get
up the guts to skip the innuendos and tell you how I really feel
about you. And then maybe..." He paused and took in a breath, too
caught up in his own story to see the adoring and loving look he
was recieving from Scully.

"And then maybe I thought you might let me marry you," he finally
finished. "Not because you felt the same way, but maybe because
you liked me. We'd need each other."

He snorted softly in self-deprecation. "I don't really need to
add the 2.5 kids and a white picket fence, do I?"

Scully was speechless. She couldn't think of a single thing to
say that would sum up how much she felt for this man at this
moment, so instead she said the first thing that came into her
mind. "I can't have children." She could've shot herself. Of all
the things to say!

Mulder bit his lip. "Don't hate me," he begged.

Scully looked confused. "Mulder, I don't hate you --"

"You might," Mulder cut her off. "After I tell you what I've
done."

A fear gripped Scully's heart. "Mulder ..."

"I got into one of their labrotories, Scully. Where they were
keeping your ova."

His eyes turned to hers pleadingly. "I didn't know how to tell
you, Scully, but we have children. Eight. Waiting to be born."

"Mulder you mean you ... my ova?" Scully was bewildered.

"I'm sorry, Scully." He bit down harder on his lip. "Shit, I am
so sorry. I didn't know what to do. The scientists told me they
had to be fertillized or else they wouldn't survive the repeated
cyrogenic freezing. I could've gotten an anonymous donor, Scully,
but the thought of another man's sperm in your ova ..."

He gulped and stared down at his hands. "In the future I mapped
out for us, Scully, we'd have those kids, Scully. You wouldn't
mind. I'm so sorry."

"Mulder, it's okay."

Mulder didn't hear her. "Stupid isn't it? In my fantasy it'd take
the end of the world as we know it to bring us together."

Scully smiled. "Yes, Mulder, it is stupid."

Mulder glanced up suprised and hurt.

Scully's smile spread further across her face. "Because we already
are together. We don't have to wait for the end of the world."

And as Mulder's eyes met hers, he knew it to be true. And when
the end of the world did come, they'd face it together.

As always.

XXXXXXXXX

Phew. Fluff-attack. I've gone all soppy under end of high school
stress. I apologise.

Cure my stress with feedback.

Brekke (elseheavens@hotmail.com)


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