Summary:  Hiding out in Europe after the events in Gethsemane, Mulder &
Scully head to London.  Second installment of After the Louvre.

Category/Rating:  MSR/NC-17
Spoilers: US Season Four/All episodes up to finale.
WARNING:  This is a strict MSR, all friendshipper's beware! This is mush
for my own relaxation.  Mush-induced diabetes ahead!! You've been warned.

^^^^^^^^^^^
AFTER THE LOUVRE II: Escape
by CiCi Lean
^^^^^^^^^^^
cicilean@yahoo.com


"Are you sure it's him?"

The black-suited man gave a slight cough before answering.

"According to our intelligence sources in Paris and inside Interpol, the
answer would be a definite *yes*.  We have photos, videotape and passenger
manifests from the US and of his arrival in France."

"And he is not alone?"

The black-suited man allowed himself a short laugh.

"No, sir. Not by a long shot.  His partner is there as well, and to say
she is *with* him is rather an understatement.  We have a *very*
interesting bit of footage from inside the Louvre, of all places.  They
were appreciating a bit more than art that evening. Care to take a look?"

"They are involved, you are saying?"

"Yes, sir.  They are also sharing a room in a hotel right off of Rue de
Degres.  We can probably pick them up today, this morning, if you prefer."

"What do our friends in Paris think of us taking action there?"

"No problem, sir.  Even offered us the use of the Surete."

"That will be unnecessary."

"Yes, sir," said the black-suited man, blinking through the haze.

The haze of cigarette smoke.

"Shall I give the order sir?" he asked.

"Wait until tonight.  And then only on my word," replied the smoker,
grinding out his cigarette in one quick motion.  "Remember....only on my
word."


%%%%%%%%%%
Part Two


"Good morning, Scully."

Dana Scully opened one eye, and then the other.  Slowly, the white plaster
roses that decorated the ceiling came into view.  She closed her eyes
again and breathed deeply, hoping to awake perhaps twice, or three times
this morning.

For waking up happily was not something to waste.

She felt Mulder's arm encircling her and his lips were moving against her
neck, either with words or kisses, she couldn't tell.  It had been six
days since they left the nightmare behind them.  The nightmare of
discovering Kritchgau's body in Mulder's apartment, a victim of an
apparent suicide.  The nightmare of the inquisitions and the deceptions
that followed.  She had followed Mulder once again, blindly, to the edge,
but this time had been different.

She felt his hand brush along her breast.

So very different.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice moving down her neck and sounding
softly against her shoulder.

Scully thought for a moment.

"Blessed," she replied, honestly.

She could almost see his smile, warm and sweet against her back.  She felt
him rise and allowed him to turn her onto her back.  They looked at each
other for a long moment, each one fascinated with the other's face...a
face they had both seen hundreds, perhaps thousands of times, but never,
no, never in this light.

Fox Mulder almost shook his head in disbelief.  Everything about her was a
new wonder.  The colors of her hair, for instance. There wasn't only red,
but gold and rich browns.  The odd grey hair weaved its way through the
others and far from detracting from its beauty, added a nobility, a sense
of time that he found endlessly intriguing.

He wondered why he hadn't noticed before.

He kissed her forehead tentatively.  Scully responded with small pout, and
in one swift motion, pulled his lips down to hers.  He feigned a moment of
surprise, but soon gave in to her kiss, feeling the silk and heat of her
lips against his own. And soon, Mulder was feeding on her throat and her
face, his organ pushing against her belly, flushed and hard.

"Beautiful girl..." he whispered against her cheek, feeling her body twist
and squirm underneath his own.  "Beautiful girl."

Scully made a small, frustrated noise and rolled over on top of him.  She
looked breathless, as if she had been tossed on a rough sea, her hair full
and curling against a damp forehead, biting her lip in anticipation.  She
mounted his thigh, pressing herself against it and bent over to kiss him
greedily.  He responded, letting her take control, and looked at her body,
almost polished in the faint, early morning light.  Her eyes were stormy
as she rose up and forced herself onto his hardness.

He gasped as she sealed herself against him, and stretching out on the
soft coverlet of the bed, the down pillows, he threw his head back as she
rode him.  His hands lifted her breasts, pinched her nipples, and held
them throbbing as she rose, sliding up as high as she could without losing
the shaft and plummeting down, her lips dipping to kiss him.

"My own girl,"  he murmured, as she plunged herself onto him, the hot
wetness engulfing him and receding in a maddening rhythm.

Mulder's face went dark with pleasure, and as Scully felt him erupt
underneath her, she came, bucking until she was transfixed with her own
response, her legs trembling, shimmering with the last shocks of pleasure.

Scully's body folded down upon his, and his shaking hands ran along her
back, and up again to her hair.  He lifted her face and held it in his
hands, perfectly framed by his fingers, fitting like a heart in his palms.

"Beautiful girl." he whispered again, and brought her lips to his.

##########

It's good to get lost in a big city, thought Scully.

She and Mulder walked down the Avenue des Champs-Elysees , taking in the
nighttime sights and sounds of the huge promenade, one of the most famous
in the world.  Here the Arc de Triomphe stood before them and the
arrondissements continued their spiral northeastward, circling through the
railroad terminals and residential neighborhoods.

Mulder turned to Scully with a smile.

"Now, Frohike says he'll send more, but only after we send him a photo of
you posing as the Venus De Milo.  With arms, no sheet," Mulder said, as he
pocketed an envelope full of cash The Lone Gunmen had wired to them, and
grinned at the maleficent expression on Scully's face.  "So think hard,
Scully, we can go hungry without the money."

"I assume we are going to starve then," said Scully dryly.

"So cruel, Dr. Scully," he said mildly.

Scully rolled her eyes and pulled him toward her. Their lips met, briefly
and then deeply as if they both just remembered, that here, in this place
so far away from all their troubles, they had nothing to hide.

The black car came to a stop directly across from them.

When they broke from the kiss, Mulder twined his arm around her shoulders
and lead her toward the Arc. *Think of it as our own personal triumph
march, Scully,* he had said earlier in the evening, when suggesting they
walk there.  She had laughed and agreed and here they were, nearing the
great monument, feeling as though they had certainly overcome their foes.

As they neared the Arc, out of the corner of his eye,  Mulder saw the
black-suited men.

*No.*

He took Scully's arm and increased their pace, watching what the men would
do.  Surely enough, they sped up and began to push people aside in their
haste.  As he walked even faster, Scully looked at him with a questioning
gaze, and he tilted his head in the direction of their pursuers.  She
turned slowly and saw them.  Her eyes opened in fear, but she said
nothing.

She walked faster.

"I wanted to be carefree...I've just been careless," whispered Mulder,
with quiet dread, as Scully's hand curled tightly in his own, the street
moving quickly past.

The men in the black suits advanced toward them at a tight clip.

"Do you have your gun, Scully?" Mulder asked.

She nodded mutely.

"Then on my count...." he started.  "One..."

Scully took what she needed from her handbag and started stuffing items in
her jeans' pockets as she walked.

"Two."

The men in the black suits began to push their way through the throng.

"Three!" yelled Mulder, grabbing her hand.

Mulder and Scully ran, shoving their way through the crowded streets,
vendors, tourists, everyone and everything appearing to conspire to get in
their way, to slow them.  Scully began to become breathless, a pain
searing through her side, but she continued, holding tightly to Mulder's
hand, praying they wouldn't be separated in this huge crowd.

The streets of Paris whirled by, strange triangular things they were, some
endless and wide, others so tiny they hardly seemed like a street at all. 
Mulder tried ducking down the narrower ones, pulling Scully behind him
,attempting to will the strength of his legs into hers.

But the men behind them became relentlessly closer.

"The Paris Metro..."  gasped Mulder, turning slightly around.  "There's
the station."

Mulder pointed to the entrance and Scully followed him,  her legs nearly
giving way, her ankles twisting on loose corners of cement.  But she
doubled her speed, for she was hunted now, and she had to run or die.

She and Mulder flew into the Metro's Art Deco entrance gasping for air. 
The suited men were still behind, but a small crowd of tourists had slowed
them down.  Mulder threw some francs in the direction of the fare-taker
and leapt over the railing leading the tracks. He scooped Scully over
behind him and together they descended into the depths of the station,
tumbling down stairs, sliding down railings.

The reached the tracks and began their wait.

Mulder kept looking behind them waiting for the men to appear.  The trains
arrived every minute and a half according to the tour book, and Mulder
prayed it was true.  At the top of the stairs was a slight commotion. 
Mulder looked and saw the suited men at the top of the stairs.  He took
Scully and they began to run to the opposite end of the platform.

The train slowly began its entrance into the station.

The suited men ran down the long staircase, shoving and pushing the
commuters aside.  Scully could barely run another step, but followed
Mulder anyway.  The train came to a shuddering stop and its door opened.

The suited men ran faster.

Mulder and Scully leapt inside the train and Mulder almost screamed for
the doors to close.  The suited men were almost on the platform now...ten
more yards...two more yards...

The trains door shut.

The suited men pounded on the door, but the conductor ignored them as he
made his way out.  A train every minute and a half...they can wait.  With
a huge breath, Mulder pulled Scully's shaking body against his own and
nearly collapsed himself against the train doors, oblivious to the curious
looks of the passengers around him.

"We have to get to Calais," he panted.

Scully just nodded.

%%%%%%%%%%
Part Four

The port town of Calais lay under a heavy fog.

Mulder and Scully, nearly numb with exhaustion, traveled throughout the
night to make it here, hoping to reach England via the shortest route.  It
was only twenty two miles across the channel to Dover. There, Mulder hoped
to reach London and get lost in a great city once more, before they were
found again.

They had gone overland via the metro, a country train and a taxi ride, and
finally, jolted and weary they were at dockside, inquiring about channel
crossings.  A large ferry stood at the dock and Mulder purchased their
tickets.  The ferry wouldn't be boarding for thirty minutes they were
told, so they sat and waited.

Mulder curled his arm around Scully's shoulder and felt her head rest
against him.  He felt a wave of tremendous guilt overtake him.  She had
trusted him...he had let her down.

Once again.

"We should have expected them to find us," Scully said sleepily against
his chest.

We.  *I* should have expected it, thought Mulder bitterly.

"But it doesn't matter.." she continued, her voice quiet and peaceful.  

"Doesn't matter?"  he replied with a short, humorless laugh.  "They can
kill with impunity here, Dana.  They have the freedom they didn't have
back in the US and we don't have the access, we have absolutely no
authority here.    And I should have known that.  I should have thought
first, but..."

Here he stopped, unable to continue.

"But?" asked Scully, a wan smile curling around her mouth.

"But...I wanted...I just wanted..." he stumbled.  He swallowed hard,
wishing for a hundred things at once.  He buried his head against the top
of hers.

Scully closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.  

"Mulder, did you know that ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to see
Paris.  I've always dreamed of its streets, what its sounds might be or
the smell of bread and perfume and the feel of the crowded shops in the
day.  I really and truly wanted to go there, but it never occurred to me
to go. It was too impractical, too impulsive, it wasn't something that I
was *supposed* to do.  But guess what?"

"What?" he asked, the same tired smile beginning to grace his features.

"You did it again.  Took me somewhere wonderful, even against my
*practical* judgement.  That's why I'm with you, Mulder.  To take me to
all those places I'm too stubborn to go," said Scully, lifting her head
and looking in Mulder's eyes.  "That's why I am so glad to be here with
you."

She put her hand under his chin and brought his mouth to hers.

"And that's why I love you," she said, before taking his lips with hers.

Something inside of Mulder broke open at her words, and he returned her
kiss, understanding more than ever, the true nature of their partnership. 
The balance between them, as deep as the trust.  

The ferry's horn blew.

They broke their kiss at the sound and Mulder got up and held his hand out
to Scully. She took it with a confident look and together they boarded the
boat.  A few minutes later, the anchor was raised and the shores of France
departed, the White Cliffs of Dover appearing in the distance.

Mulder pulled her closer as they neared the English coast.

"Ever been to London, Scully?" he asked with a gleam in his eye.

Scully just smiled and shook her head.

**************
Comments welcome.
cicilean@yahoo.com