"US/THE SIGNS OF MY UNDOING"  01/05
by: Jennifer Maurer

"I caught sight of my reflection
I caught it in the window
I saw the darkness in my heart
I saw the signs of my undoing
They had been there from the start
And the darkness still has work to do
The knotted cord's untying...
At my request you take me in
In that tenderness I am floating away
No certainty, nothing to rely on
Holding still for a moment
What a moment this is
Oh for a moment of forgetting, a moment of bliss..."
    ---Peter Gabriel, "Blood of Eden"
 

I was awakened by a scream <Mulder, I’m in here!  Mulder, help!> but I wasn’t aware until I hit the floor that it came from me.  I froze for a moment, breathing hard, trying to figure out what had happened.   Jerry Schnauz had been coming at me with his icepick---Mulder was slamming himself against the trailer door in a futile attempt to break in---Schnauz placed a hand on my forehead, lifted my eyelid with his thumb, steadied his aim.  As the shining steel point rushed towards my eye, I screamed Mulder’s name again—
 
And found myself on my own living room floor, shaken and sweaty.  Another nightmare.  The second one in as many nights.  Last night, working on my report for this X-File, I had started to cry.  A single tear escaped and rolled down my cheek as I gazed at the contorted photograph of my own terror.   My mouth frozen open in a scream.  My hand reaching for Mulder to help me. Six hooked claws reaching for my face.  That photograph opened the floodgates and I suddenly found myself sobbing.  The professional part of me was embarrassed by this outburst.  I usually pride myself on my ability to stay detached and in control, the yin to Mulder’s emotional, obsessive yang.  In the privacy of my apartment, however, I quickly gave up my feeble attempts at self-control and cried myself to a troubled sleep.
 
That was when the first nightmare came.  Hazy, jumbled images at first: Melissa’s voice calling me, her figure always disappearing around a corner as I tried to catch her.  Heavy footsteps fading in and out, my father’s voice: "Did you get my message, Starbuck?"  Then Schnauz with the icepick, circling me strapped to his chair, explaining that all he wanted to do was help me, end my unrest. <Ich habe keine unruhe!/Yes, you do. Everybody does. But especially you.> Skinner and Mulder stood watching, nodding solemnly.  I had screamed myself awake from that one, too.  I stayed up the rest of the night. <They live inside your head.  They make you do things and say things that you don’t mean, all your good thoughts can’t wish them away.>
 
Tonight’s show had cut right to the chase---all I remembered was being in that trailer, the icepick hurtling towards me, <You’ve got them right...HERE...don’t you feel them?> ready to sink into the tender tissue of my brain.  Mulder unable to reach me.  In reality, of course, Mulder had burst in and killed Schnauz in the nick of time.  He has a knack for that, having saved me dozens of times.  His only miss was Duane Barry.  Over all, an excellent average.  He had wanted to comfort me after this most recent rescue, I knew, but I’d brushed past him, unable to accept his kindness.  All I wanted at that point was to see the sky, be outside that damn shoebox of a trailer.  Anything he might have wanted to say after that got lost in a jumble of police reports and other loose ends.
 
I had called out sick the next day with some trepidation---I never do it, not even after my abduction or Ahab’s death.  I wondered what Mulder’s reaction would be.  In the end I wimped out and e-mailed him at 5AM when I realized I wasn’t going to be a productive agent on no sleep.  I gave him some lame excuse and then shuffled off to soak in a hot tub, hoping it would relax me.  When I got out, my computer was beeping softly to indicate I had a reply from him: <Since you’ll be home, tape Geraldo for me---it’s transvestite biker day>  I smiled and settled down on the couch in my bathrobe.  I was too tired to move but not tired enough to really sleep, and spent the day channel surfing (it really was transvestite biker day), reading, and dozing in fits and starts.  Mulder called that afternoon to check in but I let the machine pick it up.  I didn’t want to go out or see anybody.  I had no idea how I was going to deal with tomorrow. <I’ll sleep on it and see how I feel in the morning>, was my last thought.  Famous last words.
 
I gingerly rolled over and pulled myself into a sitting position, rearranging my tangled bathrobe.  It wasn’t a long drop from the couch where I’d fallen asleep to my living room floor, but my elbows and knees were already aching in protest. <Shit, now I’ll probably get bruises and have to wear slacks for a week.>  I hauled myself creakily to my feet and dropped onto the couch.  Tears of exhaustion filled my eyes and before I knew it I was crying again.  What was it about this case that had started me unraveling?  God, I’d survived my own abduction, my sister’s murder, and dozens of close calls without faltering.  Why go to pieces now?
 
I didn’t want to think about this anymore.  I didn’t want to think at all, I just wanted some rest, but I knew that would be impossible now.  With tears still trickling down my face, I got up and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt.  I had to get out of my apartment.  I needed to see the sky, my apartment seemed too small.  <Like Schnauz’s trailer?> whispered a voice in my head, and that’s when I grabbed my coat and keys and bolted out the door.
 
In the elevator going down I wondered where I thought I was going at 1:30 in the morning.  I paused outside the front door and looked up at the stars.  The night was clear and I could make out several constellations.  I sighed and descended the steps.  I decided to take a walk around the block.  <Not the best idea in the middle of the night, perhaps, but I am an FBI agent.  I should be able to take care of myself.>
 
And on the heels of that thought came another: <Then why do these things keep happening to me?>  Mulder is the one who chases trouble, and he’s gotten himself into some bad situations.  With rare exceptions, however, he usually emerges from them just fine.  I cover his ass with Skinner, but that’s about it.  The one time I really pulled his butt out of a sling, I was the one who’d gotten him into it by shooting him.
 
I, on the other hand, seem to be a virtual magnet for death fetishists, ax-wielding cannibals, liver-sucking mutants, and God knows what else---maybe even aliens.  Not to mention my astounding talent for getting bonked on the head by a wide variety of suspects.  "Yup," I said out loud to myself, "I’m an FBI agent anyone would be proud to have for a partner."
 
I kept walking, smearing the tears away with the backs of my hands, taking deep breaths to try and calm down.  I was over the worst of my self-pity when I discovered I’d wandered farther from home during my wool-gathering than I’d intended.  I found myself at a small elementary school a few miles away.  <I’ll sit on the swings awhile> I thought as I headed for the playground.  I was more weary than ever and just wanted to sit down.
 
An eerie glow came from the floodlights still illuminating the basketball court at the bottom of the hill.  <Too bad Mulder’s not here, we could have a little one-on-one.>
 
After that thought, of course, I couldn’t get him off my mind.  I knew we would laugh about our height difference, and he’d probably hold the ball way over my head to tease me.  Afterwards we’d sit on these swings and shoot the breeze, or maybe not talk at all, just enjoy a companionable silence together.
 
The longer I ran through these scenarios, the lonelier I became.  I really did want Mulder with me.  I would happily accept his comfort now.  More tears started flowing down my cheeks and I angrily wondered when I was going to pull myself together and stop this childish blubbering.  I checked my watch.  Quarter to three.  <Mulder’s probably awake, watching some horrible sci-fi late-late movie.>  All the times he’s called me in the wee hours, he won’t mind.  I stopped myself.  <Dana Katherine Scully, get a grip and go home.  You have to go to work tomorrow and you need your sleep.>  The thought of facing more nightmares unnerved me.  They were only dreams, true, but I didn’t think I could handle another.  I stifled another sob.  Fuck it.  I needed Mulder.  I could not face being alone anymore.  He was the only one I wanted to lean on now.
 
I pushed myself up and headed for the payphone on the corner of the building.  In my haste I had forgotten my cell phone.  I dug in the pockets of my jeans for change.  None.  <I’m batting a thousand, that’s for sure.>  I lifted the receiver and punched 0.
 
"Thank you for choosing Sprint, this is Marjorie, how can I help you?"
 
"I need to make a collect call."
 
"The number you’re calling?"
 
"202-555-0199."
 
"And your name?"
 
I hesitated.  Mulder only used my first name when he wanted to get my attention on a personal level.  It seemed appropriate now.
 
"Dana," I quavered.
 
"One moment, please..."
 
His phone rang once, twice.  I started trembling all over.  <Why am I doing this?  I could hang up and GROW up and no one would be the wiser.  But I don’t want to.  Please be awake.  Please answer.>
 
"Yeah?" Mulder’s voice was scratchy and he sounded half-asleep but not totally groggy.  My spirits lifted a bit at the sound of his voice.
 
"This is the Sprint operator with a collect call from Dana, will you accept the charges?"
 
"Yes, yes," he answered, sounding completely awake and alert now.
 
"Go ahead, Dana," the operator said, and clicked off.
 
"Scully? Where are you?"
 
"I’m, um, at a playground a few miles from home," I said in a shaky voice.
 
"What happened? Are you okay?"  I could hear the panic rising in his voice.
 
"I’m not in danger or anything, but can you please come get me, Mulder?"
 
"Of course.  Is there a public place where you can wait for me?"
 
"I’ll be okay here.  It’s Overbrook Elementary school, do you know where that is?"
 
"Yup.  I’m on my way.  Don’t go anywhere."
 
"I won’t."
 
We hung up and I immediately stopped crying, filled with relief.  Part of me hated myself for calling and crying like a lost child, but mostly I was glad I would finally have someone to talk to about this.  Someone who understood.
 
I walked back to the swings and plopped down with a sigh, facing the opposite way so I could see the road.  I started swaying back and forth gently as I watched the headlights go by, waiting for Mulder.  One car swung around the corner sharply and sped up the street, and I knew it was him.  He careened into the parking lot and jumped out of his car.  I watched his lanky frame as he ran towards the playground with a flashlight.
 
"Scully? Scully!" he yelled.
 
"Over here, Mulder," I called out to him.
 
The beam of light swung around and hit me right in the eyes.  He came closer, sweeping the area around me, and I saw that he had his gun in his other hand.
 
"Mulder, it’s okay, it’s nothing dangerous.  Just me."
 
He took one last look around and then holstered his gun.  He knelt down in front of me and took both my cold hands in his own warm ones.  I could tell by his expression that he saw the strain in my face.
 
"Are you hurt?" he asked softly.
 
I shook my head.
 
"Sure?"
 
I nodded.
 
"God, Scully, I was so scared."
 
"I’m sorry," I whispered.  We looked at each other for a long moment, his forearms resting on my thighs as he absently stroked my hands with his thumbs. He studied my face in the dim light.
 
"Your eyes are puffy.  You’ve been crying."
 
I shrugged, then nodded.
 
He looked at me, lips pursed, and I could tell he was wondering what to make of this.  I stared into his eyes, at a loss for words.  I waited for him to say something.
 
"This is not like you," he stated quietly.  It wasn’t an accusation, just a fact.  I nodded agreement.
 
"It’s the case, isn’t it?  That’s what’s bothering you."
 
I nodded again, my eyes beginning to water.  My throat contracted with the threat of tears and I swallowed to try and get rid of the lump.  Mulder noticed this and reached up to touch my cheek gently.
 
"Dana, please tell me what’s wrong."
 
It was my first name that broke the dam.  I made a choking whimper, trying to hold it in, and I saw Mulder wince in sympathy with my pain.  I burst out sobbing and he gathered me gently into his arms.  I leaned into him and cried for a long time, shaking.  This time I couldn’t make myself calm down and stop, everything came out at once: I was crying for my own unrest, all of it.  Schnauz had been right when he said I had unruhe, as much as I had tried to deny it.  <Yes, you do. Everybody does. But especially you.>  The deaths of Melissa and my father.  My abduction.  All the times I’d thought I’d lost Mulder---New Mexico, the alien retro-virus that almost killed him.  Falling under the influence of those subliminal signals and thinking he had turned against me. <You're one of the men who abducted me!>  Watching him struggle against Modell, trying not to shoot me. <Scully...run.>  I cried deep, hoarse sobs, moaning as each painful scene replayed itself in my mind.  I felt myself slipping further and further out of control, with only Mulder’s presence to anchor me.  I sagged against him, almost too tired now to sit upright, and I threw him off balance.  He shifted to sit on the ground under the swing and pulled me down with him, settling me in his lap and rocking me back and forth.  Finally, I started to hyperventilate, and panicked.  I pulled back and looked up into Mulder’s face, gasping wordlessly, clutching his jacket.  He looked back into my eyes and put his palms against my cheeks, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.  With an effort I brought my breathing under control and drooped back against him, completely spent.
 
"Feel better?"
 
I nodded against his chest.
 
"How about we blow this pop stand?" he asked.
 
I nodded again, and he slid me off his lap so he could stand up.  He reached for my hands and pulled me to my feet.  I wrapped my arm around his waist and he circled my shoulders, squeezing me close to him.  Joined together like this, we hobbled to his car.  He gently deposited me in the passenger seat and walked around the front of the car to get in his side.  I watched him, finally feeling some measure of peace since this whole disaster began.  I was not acting like myself, but Mulder knew me better than anyone, and he would help me.
 
We were both silent on the drive back to his place.  He knew, without even asking, that I didn’t want to go home.  Mulder’s apartment may not be the coziest place in the world but there is something about it I like.

I sighed and leaned my head against the window, watching the scenery go by.  I could sense him turn his head and look at me every once in awhile, and at one red light he reached over and took my hand.  He squeezed it and I gave his hand four quick squeezes back.
 
"Scully?"
 
"Nothing," I said, turning to him and showing a small smile, "Just a secret handshake my grandmother taught me."
 
"Show me."
 
Just then the driver behind us beeped his horn; the light had turned green.  Mulder released my hand and turned his eyes back to the road, the moment over.
 
We got to his apartment and I actually waited for him to hop out of the car and come around to open my door.  He bowed and made a flourish.
 
"May I offer you my arm, m’lady?"
 
I smiled at him and tucked my hand under his elbow.  We rode the elevator up to the fourth floor in silence, both of us watching the blinking floor indicator.  He led me down the hall and ushered me into his apartment, his hand on the small of my back in his customary gesture.  I sank down on the sofa.

"Let me take your coat.  Tea for you, right?"
 
"If you have any, yeah, that would be great."
 
"Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime, with a dash of honey."  He smiled at me, proud of his knowledge.  I returned the smile.
 
"Mulder, I am impressed."
 
"You’ll be even more impressed when you see me drink some myself," he called over his shoulder as he went into the kitchen.  I listened to him bustling around and soon he returned with two steaming mugs.  I took a sip, enjoying the familiar warm flavors sliding down my throat.  Mulder watched me over the rim of his mug, eyebrows raised in anticipation.
 
"Just right.  You can make my tea every day from now on," I teased, setting my mug down.  Mulder took a gulp of tea and set his mug next to mine.
 
"I thought you didn’t like frilly girl beverages," I said, referring to a remark Mulder had once made in our great debate of coffee vs. tea.
 
He smiled and shrugged.  "First time for everything."
 
We stared at each other silently for a minute, and I knew he was waiting for me to begin.  Suddenly I felt shy, and somewhat embarrassed about rousing Mulder from sleep in the middle of the night to come pick me up like a lost child.
 
"I’m so---"
 
He held up a hand and cut me off.  "I don’t want to hear any apologies, Scully.  You’ve been there for me every time I needed you.  I’m glad to have a chance to do the same for you in return, although I wish I didn’t have to.  Because I hate to see you upset, I mean.  But I’m happy to do it."  He smiled at his convoluted sentence.  "Does that make sense?"
 
"As much sense as you usually make," I smirked, trying to lighten the mood.
 
He made a face at me, then watched me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
 
"Mulder...I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  We’ve handled dozens of dangerous cases, seen any number of disturbing things.   In the past, I have been able to handle our cases in the manner in which I was trained to.  This one, though...I can’t stop dreaming about it."
 
"Nightmares?"
 
I nodded, then ducked my head to break eye contact.  "I haven’t slept since that day.  I wake up screaming."
 
He looked at me sympathetically.  "I can relate to that."
 
I looked back up at him.  "Mulder, this X-File, it’s pretty tame compared to others we’ve investigated.  No UFO’s or government conspiracies..."
 
"Just some concrete evidence: a photograph of your own terror."
 
I sighed and put my logic cap back on.  "There could be any numbers of explanations for that: those photo booths aren’t very reliable, it could be old film---"
 
"Yeah, unflattering pictures of myself give me nightmares all the time," he answered dryly, shooting me a pointed look.  I blushed and fell silent.  "Scully," he continued, "I asked you once why you refused to believe, after all we’ve seen.  You told me you were afraid to believe.  Isn’t it possible that’s what’s happening here?"
 
"This is totally different from Luther Boggs---"
 
"Is it?  You’re confronted with something paranormal that directly involves you, and you shy away from it, try to explain it away with science.  Only this time, your subconscious won’t let you, because deep inside you know something’s going on."
 
"Yeah, I’m losing my mind," I whispered, looking down at my hands clenched in my lap.
 
"No, you’re not.  I know how you feel---this is my specialty, you know.  Getting inside the minds of criminals.  The more deranged they are, the better I understand them.  What does that say about me?"
 
"That you’re brilliant," I answered.
 
He gave a small smile at the compliment.  "Or that I’m spooky."
 
"Don’t say that," I said irritably, "You know I hate it when you call yourself that."
 
His grin widened.  "What about when they call you Mrs. Spooky?"
 
"That I don’t mind.  I’m proud of the work we do, Mulder."
 
He nodded.  "I know you are.  I am, too, and I’m proud to have you for my partner."
 
I leaned back with a sigh.  "Right now I can’t imagine why."
 
"Scully, listen to me," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders, "You’ve held it together through many traumatic situations, some that I put you in.  Every one you handled in a textbook manner, including this last one.  You almost had an icepick shoved into your brain, for God’s sake, who wouldn’t get nightmares from that?  There’s nothing wrong with being scared."
 
"I wasn’t scared, exactly, Mulder...I mean, yes, being kidnapped by Schnauz was terrifying.  I owe you my life.  A few more minutes and I would have still been alive...but Dana Scully would have been dead."  I started to tremble, becoming agitated, and Mulder let his hands slide down my arms to hold my hands again.  "Everything I am, all my memories, my emotions, would have been destroyed.  Not just three month's worth... *everything*.  I wouldn’t miss who I had been.  I wouldn’t even remember."
 
"I would miss you, Scully," he said in a low voice.
 
"But I wouldn’t miss you," I cried, "I wouldn’t even know you!  I wouldn’t know myself!"
 
"Dana, it’s okay.  It didn’t happen.  I got to you in time.  I never should have let you go to the car alone—"
 
"Mulder, this is not about blame and it’s not about close calls!  What bothers me the most..." I faltered, unsure if I could actually voice my next thought.
 
"Go ahead.  Say it.  Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."
 
I nodded and continued, "What bothers me the most...is that Schnauz was right.  I...I do have unrest.  *Especially* me, he said. There are things haunting me that I will never be free of as long as I’m alive...or sane.  In my darker moments I think that it wouldn’t have been all bad to lose myself that way.  The thought of being completely out of touch with reality terrifies me, but with that loss would come peace."
 
I could tell by the stricken look on Mulder’s face that this was not the answer he expected.  This was a thought he may have had occasionally, but not one he expected to hear from Dana Scully, scientist, MD, and the ultimate professional.  I watched his face anxiously, waiting for his reaction.
 
"Scully, you don’t really mean that."  He meant it to come out as a statement, but I also heard the question, the plea for me to deny it.
 
"No, I suppose not.  I’m happy with who I am.  But sometimes, Mulder...I wish I didn’t know everything I do."
 
"You wouldn’t, if you hadn’t been assigned to the X-Files."
 
"Oh, no, you don’t.  This is one thing I’m not letting you blame yourself for.  Mulder, I make my own choices, and that includes career choices.  You are without a doubt the most extraordinary FBI agent I’ve ever had the privilege to work with, and I wouldn’t change a thing about our partnership.  The things I’ve been through, the things I wish had never happened, are things entirely out of our control.  I know you hate that, and so do I.  But we both know who’s responsible.  And it’s not you."
 
We sat in silence for a minute.  I could tell he was letting my words sink in, struggling against himself to accept that I was right and it wasn’t his fault.  Mulder is his own favorite scapegoat.
 
"It’s just..." he hesitated, then continued, "Every time something like this happens, every time you get hurt or your life is in danger, I can’t help but think that I could have prevented it by doing something different.  Being a better FBI agent."
 
"Mulder, I feel the same way when something happens to you.  When it happens to me, like this latest incident, I question my abilities even more.  If I can’t take care of myself, how will I ever be able to protect you in a dangerous situation?"
 
"You’ve done a great job so far."
 
I smiled.  "Thanks."
 
"Look, Scully, these are the risks we take as officers of the law.  Sometimes things go wrong and people get hurt or killed.  I trust you completely.  With my life.  I know that you always do everything you can to watch my back.  And you know I do the same for you.  As far as your unrest is concerned..."
 
I picked up where he trailed off, "It’s scary how similar our lives have become, isn’t it?  We’ve both lost our fathers suddenly.  Our sisters were taken from us in exchange for our lives.  It was me Krychek meant to shoot, not Melissa...and you found your name on that folder under Samantha’s."
 
"It does make you wonder," he conceded.
 
"How do you deal with it?  How do you sleep at night?"  I asked bluntly.
 
He shrugged.  "I don’t always.  I usually channel surf until I drop off.  You know that."
 
"But how do you live with so much unrest?  Don’t you ever want to retreat into your own mind and not have to face it anymore?"  I persisted.
 
Mulder shifted uneasily and responded, "Sure, but I have to believe that by facing it, I’ll find Samantha someday.  At the very least, I know that my gift for understanding the deviant mind can help others.  That gives me some satisfaction.  Look, Dana, you of all people know that I’m not the best at expressing or dealing with my emotions.  We just do the best we can for ourselves, and each other."
 
I looked into his eyes for a long moment and whispered, "Mulder, I don’t know if I can do this."
 
The color drained from his face and his eyes widened.  "You mean you want to leave the X-Files?"
 
I shook my head.  "No.  I could never do that.  I’m just afraid that I’m losing my effectiveness as an agent."
 
"You worried about that during the Pfaster case, too."
 
I looked at him in surprise.  I had never told Mulder that I’d gone to see a counselor at the Bureau and told her that very thing.  "How did you know that?"
 
He shrugged.  "I could just tell."
 
"Mulder, I don’t want to put you in danger because I’m falling apart at the seams, maybe I should back away..."
 
He grabbed my upper arms tightly and pulled me close to him.  My eyes widened at the intensity in his face.
 
"Scully, don’t you know by now that you’re what keeps me out of danger?  I felt at first that you were holding me back, but I learned in time that you’re the one that keeps me grounded.  And I’m the one that makes you stretch your boundaries.  We’re the perfect complement to each other, can’t you see that?  Remove one of us and the whole thing falls apart.  And then they win.  We can’t let that happen.  You can’t leave.  You’re too important to me."
 
I recovered my powers of speech enough to say the only inane thing that popped into my head: "I...I didn’t know you felt this strongly."
 
He reached up a hand to caress my cheek.  "I do.  God, Scully, the same things you said before went through my mind today, too.  A few more minutes and I would have had to spend the rest of my life watching you as a vegetable."  His voice sank to a whisper and he leaned in to rest his forehead against mine, his hand reaching up behind my head to stroke my hair.  I held very still, startled as much by his actions as I was by how much I enjoyed the sensation of having him so close to me.

His breath was warm against my face as he continued, "You mean more to me than anyone.  I can’t lose you again.  Your abduction was bad enough, but having to watch you like that for the rest of your life..."  He shuddered and pulled me into his embrace.  My heart started pounding.  I was sure he could feel it through both our shirts because I could feel his pulse racing as well.  We held each other tightly for a moment, then he pulled back from me and looked into my eyes again.  His hands were still tangled in my hair and his eyes had that hooded look I’d never noticed was so sexy before.  I gazed back at him and caught myself involuntarily licking my lips.  He correctly took that as my consent and closed his eyes, dipping his head down to mine.  <Oh my God, Mulder is going to kiss me.>   My eyelids fluttered shut as his lips met mine.  A light, soft touch.  Then he paused, waiting to see if I would respond.

I returned the kiss, running the tip of my tongue along his full lower lip, then pausing myself to see what his next move would be.  He responded by pressing his lips down on mine, kissing me fully.  I opened my mouth and slowly explored his with my tongue, feeling his sharp intake of breath at the sensation.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and he tightened his grip on my hair as our passion built.  He slid his hands down my back to pull me closer against him.  We were both letting out soft little moans as I sucked on his tongue.  A small part of me couldn’t believe this was Mulder I was kissing so erotically, but it felt so right.  We had shared so much together, why not share this, too?  I certainly found Mulder attractive, and every so often I would catch him looking at me in a way that made me wonder if he felt the same towards me.  Apparently he does, I thought with an internal smile.  After two days of terror and no sleep, it felt wonderful to be with Mulder like this.  I felt alive.  Here was a caring, compassionate human being who obviously wanted me as much as I wanted him.  What nightmare could withstand love?

Mulder pulled back from me abruptly, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.  My lips felt swollen from being pressed against his teeth.  We were both breathing hard and I saw beads of sweat on his forehead.  I could tell by the look on his face that he was having doubts about what we’d just done and it made my stomach sink.

"Scully..." he began, then stopped and sprang up from the couch, stalking over to the window.  He leaned his forehead against the glass.  I sat still on the couch, afraid to approach him, afraid I wouldn’t want to hear what he had to say.  Maybe he had only kissed me out of pity.  Maybe he’d just gotten caught up the emotions of my close call.  Maybe I was an idiot for assuming he was experiencing the same startling, new feelings I was.  I had never thought of Mulder in sexual or romantic ways before---okay, yes I had, but only in the occasional dream.  Or he would make some remark fraught with innuendo and I’d start to wonder what lay behind it, only to have him follow up with some totally goofy comment that would make me think: <Don’t be stupid, Dana, he’s only fooling with you.>

I made myself get up off the couch and walk over to him.  His breath was fogging up the glass and I could see his hands clenching and unclenching.  I pushed aside the thought of what those hands might feel like on my body <God, where did that come from?  I really am losing it.> and touched his shoulder.  He turned around and looked at me, his face neutral.  My heart skipped a beat at the blankness I saw in his face.  Until I got a close look into his eyes.  I could read the desire there, and the fear.

"This was a surprise for you, too," I said quietly.  He nodded.

"Are you sorry?" he asked.

"No," I replied, "Are you?"

"No.  I just don’t know what to do next."

I couldn’t help but grin at such a remark coming from Mulder, the man of 1000 off-color jokes and an impressive pornography collection.  He instantly read my thought and smiled back.  "Well, I know *what* to do.  I’m just not sure if I *should*."

"What does your heart tell you?" I asked, placing the palm of one hand against his chest.  His heart beat like a drum beneath my hand.  He caught his breath at my touch, then covered my hand with his own.
 
"Several different things."
 
"Like what?" I persisted.
 
"Well, part of me wants to toss you onto my rarely used bed and ravish you in various creative ways."
 
I blushed and smiled at his words.  I cleared my throat and asked, "And the other part?"
 
"The other part says I would be taking advantage of you if I did.  You haven’t gotten much sleep, Scully, and maybe you’re not thinking too clearly right now."
 
"Oh, I think I’m thinking clearly about certain things for the first time," I replied, and was gratified to see him blush in turn.
 
"Maybe so.  I hope you are.  But a little sleep couldn’t hurt.  I’ll still be here when you wake up."
 
"But, Mulder, I’m not slee—" I betrayed myself at that moment with a bone-cracking yawn.  When I opened my eyes Mulder was grinning at me and I laughed.  "Okay, maybe I am."
 
"Come along then, Dana," he said, leading me by the hand into his bedroom.  "It’s bedtime for FBI agents."  He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt that NOBODY KNOWS I’M ELVIS.  "You can wear these.  The bed’s yours.  Enjoy it."
 
"Don’t I get a bedtime story?" I teased.
 
"Oh, yeah.  Sure.  Once upon a time there was a woman named Dana and a man named Mulder.  One night, they decided to wait until the next morning to see what direction their relationship would take.  The end.  Good night."  With a kiss on my forehead, he left, shutting the door softly behind him.  I chuckled and changed into the shorts and T-shirt.  I peeled back the crisp sheets, which looked like they hadn’t been slept on in awhile.  I heard Mulder switch the TV back on and flop down on the couch.  Resisting the urge to walk out there and pounce on him, <Did I really say pounce?> I slid under the blankets and snapped off the lamp.  I felt myself sinking towards a contented sleep for the first time in two days and smiled at the luxurious feeling.  I watched the flickering light from the TV seep under the door until I drifted off.
 
I woke to Mulder’s gentle hand stroking my hair.  All the blinds were drawn and I had no idea how much time had passed.  I was lying on my side and Mulder was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to me.  I stretched like a cat and looked up at him, yawning.
 
"What time is it?" I asked.
 
He checked his watch.  "Ten after seven."
 
I scooted myself up to lean against the headboard.  "I didn’t sleep very long, did I?"
 
He smiled at me.  "I mean, it’s ten after seven in the evening, Scully."
 
My eyes widened in disbelief.  "You mean we slept the whole day?"
 
"Well, you did," he teased, "I was up at the crack of dawn and put in a productive day.  Don’t worry, Scully, I called us out sick.  Skinner was a little surprised when I told him we were sleeping together, but..."
 
I cut him off with a punch in the shoulder.  "Mulder, that is *not* funny."
 
"Sure it is," he cackled, ever the merry prankster.
 
"Why didn’t you wake me?"
 
"Why should I have?  You hadn’t slept in two nights."
 
I switched topics.  "How long were you sitting there watching me before I woke up?"
 
"Oh, about an hour.  I was in and out all day checking on you.  You talk in your sleep, you know."
 
I felt myself redden to the hairline.  "I do not."
 
"Do too."
 
"What did I say?"
 
"Enough to give me hope that you *were* thinking clearly last night."
 
I squirmed slightly under his scrutiny.  "Like what?"
 
He grinned at me. "I'd tell you, Scully, but the thing is, you asked me in your sleep not to...and I promised you I wouldn't.  Don't worry, I'm sure the memories will seep back into your conscious mind someday."
 
I smacked him again. "Mulder, you're trying my patience."
 
"So what else is new?"  He unfolded his long legs and rose, holding out his hand to me.  "Come on, dinners' ready."
 
I let myself be pulled out of bed and led down the hall.  "You cooked for me?" I asked, amazed at this side of Mulder.  Domestic God.  Who knew?
 
He snorted at my question.  "You're awake, Scully, the dream's over.  We ordered Chinese."
 
My laughter abruptly stopped when I saw the coffee table in Mulder's living room.  I'd been expecting cardboard cartons scattered around and maybe a six-pack.  Instead, he'd set the low table with china plates and wine glasses.  A fat, scented candle in a glass jar flickered softly.  Two big pillows for us to sit on.
 
"Something wrong, Scully?" he asked, wondering at my sudden silence.
 
I shook my head and smothered a grin.  He shrugged and plopped down on the floor, indicating I should sit also.  I did, watching him pour us wine and open the cartons.
 
"General Tso's chicken and lo mien," he said, dishing some out for each of us. "Your favorites, right?"
 
I nodded and dug in, suddenly famished.  For awhile we were both silent as we inhaled the food.  I tangled with the chopsticks at first, watching Mulder dig in with his bare hands, sauce and noodles dripping from his fingers.  <What would he do if I reached over, took his hand, and sucked the sauce off?>  I giggled a little at the thought and ditched the chopsticks, using my fingers instead. By the time we'd finished, we were both messy up to our wrists.  I sat back with a satisfied sigh, watching Mulder slurp up the last of his lo mien.
 
"Good?" he asked.
 
"Just what I wanted," I answered.
 
He nodded seriously, "I know."
 
My eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really?"
 
"Really."
 
"You know what I need?" I asked.  <Should I be pressing this issue?  Maybe not, but I'm going to anyway...>
 
Mulder nodded again.
 
I gave him my patented think-you-know-it-all-don't-you-Mulder look.  "So what do I need right now?"
 
"You need to clean off your hands," he replied.
 
My heart started to race at his words.  I gulped.   Had he read my thoughts?  Was I that transparent, or was he that...spooky?  Before I could completely recover my composure he leapt up and went into the kitchen, returning with two damp paper towels.  My hand shook as I reached out to accept it from him, wiping the sticky sauce off my fingers.  I watched him do the same with a startling pang of regret.  He caught what must have been an odd look on my face.
 
"Something wrong, Scully?"
 
"No, no," I replied, shaking my head.  "Everything was delicious.  Let me clean up."
 
"Nah, just dump everything in the sink, I'll get to it later."
 
"Before or after it becomes a biological hazard?" I laughed over my shoulder, carrying our plates to the sink.  I turned on the tap and dug out an ancient bottle of Palmolive out from under the sink.  I scrubbed at the dishes as if I could scrub away my own thoughts.  I'd had plenty of sleep, so Mulder's worry that my mind was foggy no longer held true.  Yet I was still feeling these peculiar tugs toward him...had Dana Scully, the one they called the Ice Queen (yes, I knew what other agents thought of me) really contemplated sucking "Spooky" Mulder's fingers? <Yep, that would be me.>  I felt my ears starting to burn at the thought.  What was wrong with me, anyway?  First I fall apart over some routine (for Mulder and I, anyway) case, now I'm struggling to repress my desire to climb Mulder's body like a jungle gym.
 
"Need any help?" came Mulder's voice at my ear.
 
I yelped and knocked the plate I'd been washing against the sink, cracking it cleanly in two.  One half crashed to the floor and the other slid into the sink.  I whirled around to face him.
 
"Mulder!  Jesus Christ..."
 
"Just call me Mulder," he smirked, bending down at the same time I did to retrieve the broken pieces of plate.  Our foreheads cracked and we both straightened up, laughing.
 
"I'm beginning to think I should wear a football helmet, I get bonked on the head so much," I joked.
 
"Here, I'll kiss and make it better," he whispered, leaning in and softly kissing the lump on my forehead.  His lips lingered against my skin longer than necessary and I wondered if that was really the tip of his tongue I was feeling.  He pulled away and looked at me, half-defiant, half-scared.  The ball was in my court now, I knew.  I could end this, or continue.  He was leaving the choice up to me.
 
"Come here," I whispered, putting one hand behind his head to pull him down to me.  He dipped his head and closed his eyes as I gently touched my lips to his forehead.  I paused there, inhaling his scent with a shaky breath.  My mouth traveled down one side of his face, kissing his closed eyelids one at a time.  I planted light kisses along his jawline, enjoying the tingling feel of his stubble.  I kissed his chin, down his neck to his Adams's apple, feeling it move beneath my mouth as he gulped and put his hands on my hips, a half-embrace.  I slid my mouth back up and hovered over his lips, pausing before I took that final leap.  He waited, his breath warm and moist against my face.  I snaked out my tongue and touched the tip to his full bottom lip, hearing him gasp at the touch.  I nibbled his bottom lip, a secret part of me enjoying his ragged breathing, his obvious desire.  I was panting just as hard.  He still hadn't tried to kiss me, hadn't pulled me closer.  I brought my other hand up to frame his face with my palms, standing on tiptoe as I pulled him closer.  He let out a moan as I traced his lips with my tongue again.
 
"Dana, please..." he whimpered.
 
I kissed him then, exploring his mouth with my tongue, tasting him.  He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me tight against him.  I could feel him, hard against my stomach, and it only got me hotter.  I was sucking on his tongue, biting his lip, kissing him for all I was worth.  Responding eagerly to my obvious hunger, he grabbed my ass and boosted me up onto the edge of the counter, sucking my tongue into his mouth.  I wrapped my legs around his waist, rubbing against him.  Our caresses grew more frantic, he shoved his hands under my sweatshirt and stroked my breasts through my bra, leaning closer to me.  I felt myself sliding backwards...right into the sink.  I started laughing into his mouth as I felt the warm dishwater soak through my jeans.  <I wonder if Glenn Close remembered to drain the sink first?>   At that thought I completely lost it, giggling madly, breaking the kiss to laugh into his chest.
 
"What?" he gasped, half-smiling.  He was torn between wanting to know the joke and wondering if it was on him.
 
"Look at me," I laughed, hopping off the counter and turning around to show him my wet butt.
 
"What...?  Oh, the sink," he said, smiling.
 
"We can't even make out like normal people," I grinned.
 
To my surprise, his smile faded at my remark.  "What do you mean?"
 
My own smile faded at the sudden seriousness of his expression.  "I just mean...you know, it's kind of funny, ending up in the sink."
 
"But you didn't say we were funny.  You said we weren't normal."
 
My brow furrowed to match Mulder's, wondering where he was going with this.  "I didn't say *we* weren't normal--"
 
He cut me off, "Just that we don't kiss normal."
 
"Mulder---"
 
He shook his head and smiled at me. "Forget it, Scully.  I'm just being...spooky, I guess.  Come on, I'll take you home so you can change into some dry clothes."
 
I frowned at this unexpected proposition.  One minute we were necking like a couple of teenagers, the next Mulder has shut down and wants to take me home.  I followed him into the living room.
 
"Mulder, what's wrong?"
 
He avoided my gaze.  "Nothing.  We'll have a lot to catch up on tomorrow, you know, and you could probably use some more sleep."
 
Sleep was the last thing on my mind right now, my body was still humming with desire, and my mind was reeling with both the newly discovered depths of my feelings for him and his abrupt rejection.  Blinking back tears, I put on the coat he held out to me.  His eyes met mine for an instant and he saw I was ready to cry but didn't say anything, only looked away.
 
It was a long, awkward ride back to my apartment, nothing like the ride to safety and desire I'd taken earlier.  Mulder cranked the radio up louder than usual.  To block out any attempts at conversation, I was sure.  Alanis Morissette was blaring out of the speakers, and it started the tears flowing down my cheeks.
 
"I don't wanna live on someday when my motto is last week/I don't wanna be responsible for your fractured heart and it's wounded beat/I don't wanna be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling/What do you thank me/What do you thank me for?"
 
I wanted to ask him if he felt responsible for me, and if that was why he'd kissed me, why he'd let me sleep at his apartment and bought me dinner.  Maybe Mulder's motto was "last week", and he didn't want any entanglements.  I felt my face set into the professional mask as I dried the last of my tears.  Fine.  Whatever he wanted.  We'd just forget this little interlude had ever happened and go back to being partners.  I'd let my composure slip, but that was understandable, considering what we'd just been through.  Mulder had come on to me, I assured myself.  And now he was regretting it.  Okay.  Tomorrow everything would be back to normal.
 
As we pulled up in front of my apartment building, I knew that last thought was the biggest lie of all.  Things between Mulder and I would never be the same again.

To be continued...

Go to Us 2: This Time I Believe