Category: Post Episode - Vignette Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Chris Carter does. Spoilers: US Season Six -- "Drive" Archive: Nowhere, thank you. Feedback: My heart does tiny pitty-pats of joy for every word of it. :-) "DRIVEN" by CiCi Lean cicilean@yahoo.com -------- x x x x x x x x x x x -------------- Even after the ambulances and police cars had left the scene, Fox Mulder was still looking out over the ocean. Staring at the whitecaps and the waves, blinking away the sharp glitter of sunlight from the water as each flash stung his eyes. Dana Scully stood next to him, the long needle of hope still clutched tightly in her hand. She hadn't let go of it even after Crumb's body had been removed from the scene. It remained at the ready -- a sharp, sterile comfort. A cold comfort. She heard her partner murmur to the sea. His voice hoarse with grief and exhaustion. "I am driven into a desperate strait and cannot steer a middle course," he quoted quietly. "I will write _nil ultra_ to my proudest hopes." She looked up at him and her soul ached at the sorrow, the guilt, in his eyes. "Sometimes, Mulder," she said, softly. "There's only one road to take. You did the best you could. There was nothing else to be done." She gently put an arm around his waist, and pulled him to her. Felt the warmth of his body against hers, and together, they shielded each other from the chill breeze. From the darkening skies. "We'll go back to Kersh," she said firmly. "He'll understand what you were trying to accomplish here. He'll have no choice." She heard Mulder chuckle. Humorlessly. "Just like the choice I didn't have, Scully? I don't think so. I don't think there's anyone who could understand what I'm doing." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Except for you." A flush filled Scully's cheeks, along with a happiness that shimmered right down to her bones. She looked up at Mulder and smiled. "Imagine that," she said, her eyes sparkling, sharing the last, and best, bits of sunlight with the sea. "And I always thought that I didn't have a clue." Heard him laugh again, but this time, with warmth. He returned her smile, bright -- beautiful, and Scully wondered if there was any sight, in this world or any other, that could possibly compare. "You might have a _clue_, Dr. Scully," he said, with mock solemnity. "But just a clue. Nothing more." Still smiling, she pinched him through his shirt, sharply enough to make him yelp. "Don't go there, Mulder," she cautioned with a growl. "Or I might make you drive us all the way back to Washington." He pulled her closer and, gently, kissed the top of her head. "Forget it," he said, as, together, they turned away from the sea. "As far as I'm concerned, your little feet can reach the pedals just fine." She pinched him again. This time... hard. They reached the Nevada hotel two hours later with Scully driving top speed the entire way as Mulder slept in the back seat. She'd ordered the dinner and wine even before she'd removed her shoes. Screw it, she thought, ordering the most expensive items she could find on the room service menu. They were bound to end up paying for this trip anyway, no matter what arguments either one of them might make in their own defense. May as well go for the gusto. Scully took a long, hot bath and had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt when the order arrived. Signed for it with a flourish, and then knocked, with two sharp raps, on the door that separated her and Mulder's room. "Hurry up," she warned. "Or you'll be left with the beets." The door opened a crack and Mulder peered at her sleepily. "I like beets," he said with a yawn, coming into the room and shutting the door behind him. "You would," she replied, pulling the tray between the double beds, and gingerly lifting the dish covers. The smell of shrimp filled the room, and she laughed aloud at Mulder's raised eyebrow. "Kersh is going to kill us," said Mulder, his tone resigned. He settled in and snagged a shrimp with his fork. "He's going to kill us dead." Scully followed suit and shrugged, popping a shrimp into her mouth with a defiant gesture. Smiled as she chewed. "Nothing like a good first impression, Mulder." She unwrapped the bottle of wine from its linen covering. "Merlot?" she offered daintily. Mulder gaped at her. "Oh, that'll go over big on our expense reports," he said, but held out his glass nonetheless. She filled it, and then filled her own. Met Mulder's eyes and raised her glass proudly in a toast. A toast that spoke of victory, even in the face of defeat. "To you, Mulder," she said. Her voice formidable and filled with conviction. "To you, your drive and your destination. May I be worthy of the journey." For a long moment, silence hung between them, like a curtain. Mulder stared at her, and the glass that was raised, still and bright -- an emerging beacon of hope. Scully watched as he blushed, something she'd never witnessed before. Watched as he shook his head, raising his glass to meet hers. "No," he said, his cheeks red; the glass in his hand trembling. "To you, Scully. To your strength, intelligence and faith. May I be worthy of your trust." Again, the warmth filled her, and her voice was lost, but only for a moment. "To the both of us, Mulder," she said, mischievously, her entire face glowing. "Especially to the shitload of trouble we're going to get in when we get into Kersh's office. Because this wine I ordered here ain't cheap." She laughed and drained her glass with a single gulp as Mulder winced. "Oh, great," replied Mulder, raising the wine glass and draining it as well. He licked his lips and held out the tumbler again. "Pour me another, Doctor." Scully complied, laughing. "Drunk on duty. That's strike two." Mulder snorted. "Actually, I think we're not only up to strike three, but we've reached the end of the playoffs, final pitch of the season, dead last." He drained his glass, his expression turning dark. "Our contract might not even get picked up again, Scully, have you ever thought of that?" A tiny prickle of fear ran down her spine. A hidden, shivering terror. "No, I've never thought of that," she lied. Actually, she'd thought of that many -- many times before, but in the end, her stubbornness, her courage -- the fool's gold of her heart, had always won. "I have," he said bluntly. He put his glass down and ran a hand through his hair nervously. "I've thought a dozen times about quitting, and few hundred times that I was going to be fired. And I'll have to admit, either option looked as attractive as the other." Scully swallowed her wine slowly -- carefully. Making sure it went down the right pipe. "Which, I'll assume, wasn't very attractive." Mulder shook his head. "No. Neither one appealed to me very much. In the end, I couldn't bear to let them win. But, either way, it always seemed that I'd lost." He sighed heavily. "I can't count how many times I've wanted to give up. But now..." "Now?" she asked, her heart in her throat, for some strange reason. He smiled at her. "Now -- I just can't resist seeing your expression when I present the next case to you. That look of utter incredulity." His visage softened. "That wonderful appearance of absolute disbelief coupled with the most beautiful countenance of skepticism that any man has ever had the pleasure of witnessing." For a moment, Scully felt the most peculiar sensation of flying, her soul taking off without the express permission of her body. She drew in a trembling breath. "So, it's my skepticism that makes you do these things? It's what drives you like this?" Mulder shook his head. "No, Scully. It's my desire to prove myself that drives me like this." He reached out and took her hand, his long fingers squeezing her's tightly. "I want it for the both of us now. I want the journey to be worth it. I want to be worthy of it." Abruptly, he released her hand. Looked down at the floor. "I want to be worthy of your trust." Scully felt the tears pricking at her eyes and the hot warmth flush her cheeks. "Mulder," she said slowly -- carefully. "There is no one more worthy of my trust than you. And this journey of yours... no, ours... is the greatest voyage that I could ever undertake. You have nothing to prove to me, because if there's anything that I believe in..." The tears stung sharply, turning his features into a blur -- the light into rainbows. "It's you, Mulder," she whispered. "I believe in you." Mulder's eyes rose to meet hers, and for a moment, time stood still. He replied, his voice hoarse. "And I believe in you, Scully. Completely. Always." Scully bit her lip and laughed. A short, sniffling sound. "Even if I don't think that goat suckers from outer space have landed in Mexico?" Mulder grinned at her. "*Especially* if you don't believe that." He reached out, grabbed the bottle of wine by the neck and poured for her. "Not that -I- ever believed that of course," he said, his expression deadpan. She lifted her glass once more. Held it out to him, smiling. "Of course, you didn't, Mulder. Of course not." "Of course not," he replied, and tipped his glass against his, and a tiny bell chime of crystal, clear and pure, rang throughout the room. Scully smilled once more and tipped the glass toward her lips. "Tomorrow, I shall drive thee, Fox Mulder, cackling home to Camelot," she said, gaily. Happily. "Thank God," Mulder replied, lifting his glass and returning her cheer. "Thank God." --------- x x x x x x x x x x x ---------- fini cicilean@yahoo.com