Title:      Alarming Behavior
Author:     Lovesfox
E-mail:     kim_djd@yahoo.ca
Rating:     R
Category:   Story, Angst, MSR
Spoilers:   Not really. Takes place somewhat after En Ami
Summary:    Something terrible happens, can Mulder and Scully deal 
            with it? 
Disclaimer: Not mine, what can I say?

WARNING:    This story contains subject matter that some readers may
            find offensive or difficult to read.  There is a rape 
            scene.



Alarming Behavior
by Lovesfox


Mulder's Apartment
Alexandria, VA


Mulder leaned wearily against the back wall of the elevator, staring
upwards with unblinking eyes as the lights lit for each floor number.
His suit jacket was slung over one shoulder, his tie askew.  Finally,
the doors opened on his floor, and he stepped out slowly, 
shoulders slumped.  He had been looking down as he exited, and did
not see the other person waiting to enter the elevator.  Their 
shoulders met with a thud, and Mulder exhaled heavily at the impact,
hearing the other person's surprised grunt.  He staggered slightly, 
and felt a hand briefly clamp his arm, pinching slightly, before 
sliding away.

Mulder was tired, and did not react very quickly.  By the time he 
turned to apologize, the doors were already closing.  He had a vague
impression of a scraggly-haired man, looking out at him with dark 
eyes. Did he know the man?  Something nudged briefly at his mind, and
then was gone. Mulder stared at the closed doors for a moment before
shaking his head briefly. 

The sounds of his footsteps were loud on the tiles as he made his way
down the hallway to his apartment. He stopped in front of his door,
his free hand digging in his pants pocket for his keys. He turned his
house key in the lock, pushing the door open with one foot.  He 
nudged it shut behind him and re-locked it.  He tossed his jacket in 
the general direction of his couch, not caring as it missed and slid 
to the floor.  He tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening it, before
yanking it over his head.  It joined the jacket on the floor.

Mulder toed his shoes off one by one and then ran a hand across his 
mouth, over his face and through his hair as he stood there in the 
middle of the room.  He stretched his arms out and behind, elbows 
bending with the motion.  There was a slight ache in his arm and 
shoulder from his collision and he rubbed at it briefly.  

He sorted through the handful of mail that had been accumulating in 
his mailbox, most of it bills. He tossed them on the side table. That
was a chore for later.  He wandered into the kitchen and opened the
fridge, staring without interest at the meager contents within for 
long moments.   He really wasn't that hungry, anyway.  He pushed the
door shut, hearing it slam as he walked out of the kitchen.  He moved
over to check his answering machine.  The red light was flashing.  He
pushed 'Play' and listened to the three messages.  Nothing of vital
importance, although Frohike wanted him to show him some 
interesting photos he and Langly had downloaded off the net.  He 
pushed 'Erase', and hesitated, hand resting on the phone on the desk.
With a wry twist of his lips, he decided to call the guys tomorrow.  
He really didn't feel like going out anywhere.  He turned and stood 
there, eyes blank.

He had been going to...what had he planned to do?  He couldn't 
remember.  

Mulder started to shake his head, telling himself to just lie down 
and get some sleep, when he was surprised by a sudden, blinding pain
behind his eyes. He bent at the waist, hands coming up to clasp his 
head, moaning. He felt himself stagger, nearly falling, and stumbled
over to the couch, still bent over.  He fell into it, hands not 
releasing his head.  He lay down, feeling the cool leather against 
his cheek. 

The pain continued, throbbing in his head.  He squeezed his eyes 
shut, another moan escaping his tightly clamped lips.  He shot one 
hand out, groping along the coffee table.  His fingers brushed his 
portable phone, and he moved forward slightly, the motion increasing 
the pain in his head, and grabbed the phone.  

Scully.  She could help him.  He brought the phone to his face, 
opening one eye to squint at the buttons.  He pushed in her number 
and pressed the phone to his ear.  

The phone rang twice, the sound shrill in his ears, before Scully's 
voice came through the receiver, saying her name.  "Scully," he 
grunted, face screwed up from the pain.  "Scully, I need some help."
He listened as she began speaking rapidly, asking him what was wrong.
"Please, Scully," he gasped. He barely heard her affirmative reply as
the phone slipped from his hand to fall to the floor.



Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, MD


Scully let herself into her apartment, struggling a little with her 
briefcase and the two bags of groceries she had picked up on the way
home.  Finally inside, she pushed the door shut with her hip, 
dropping her briefcase on the floor to lock it behind her.  She 
pushed her briefcase to the side with one foot and then carried the 
groceries into the kitchen.  As she passed the little table by the 
door, she dropped her keys on it, checking the answering machine with
a quick glance.  No messages.

She efficiently unpacked the groceries, neatly storing everything in 
its proper place.  The wine bottle she left on the counter for later.
She was going to change into more comfortable clothes, make some 
dinner and then relax with a nice glass of wine.  Or two.  The day 
had been long.  Actually, she mused, the entire week had been long.  
No new cases, no leads to follow.  Just office work.  Interspersed 
with a couple of autopsies as a favor to the VCU.  

She left the kitchen to retrieve her briefcase from the floor, 
slipping one hand in the side flap to remove the mail she had grabbed
on the way up.  She flipped through it quickly, noting a thick card-
sized envelope addressed to her in her sister-in-law's writing.  
Probably more pictures of Matthew.  The rest were bills and she 
carried them over to her desk, laying them on the mouse pad, to be 
dealt with later.  She put her briefcase down next to the chair. 

As she went down the hall to her bedroom, she worked one fingernail
along the seal of the envelope, feeling it pull away.  She saw a 
flash of bright color.  It was a card. Tara loved to send them just 
to say 'hi', almost as much as she loved to chat on the phone.  
Scully pulled it out, careful not to let the pictures fall to the 
ground.  She sat on her bed and opened it.  She placed the pictures 
to one side while she read her Tara's message, smiling at the first 
words, 'just a short note'.  Tara did not know the meaning of a 
short note.  Her flowery handwriting filled both sides of the blank 
note card.    She scanned it briefly, intending to read it in full 
later and put it down, picking up the pictures.  A couple of Bill, 
Tara and Matthew, all three grinning at the camera, one of Bill and
Matthew, mugging with identical faces, and one of Matthew alone, his
shy smile reminding her so much of Bill as a child.  She sighed as 
she returned the pictures to the card, rising from the bed and 
walking over to place the card on her dresser.  

Scully removed her holster and placed her gun on the dresser beside
the card.  She was just starting to shrug out of her jacket when her 
phone rang.  She moved over to the night table to scoop up her 
portable, pressing the answer button and saying, "Scully," into the 
receiver.

She listened as Mulder said he needed help.  Her heart quickened and
she asked him what was wrong.  She went cold as first she heard his 
voice whisper 'Please, Scully' and then a thud as his phone fell or 
was dropped to the floor. She hung up, tossing the phone on the bed.
She grabbed her gun out of the holster and was running down the 
hallway, grabbing her keys from the table in one smooth motion.  She
was out the door, locking it behind her and heading down the hallway 
in moments.

There was only one thought in her mind.  Mulder needed her help.


Mulder's Apartment
Alexandria, VA


Mulder did not know how long he lay there after calling Scully.  The 
sharp pain behind his eyes had finally stopped, and he could move 
without feeling like his head was going to explode.  But his mind 
refused to work.  He could not form a thought beyond her name.  
Scully.

There was a knock then, sharp and quick.  He struggled to rise from 
the couch, his body strangely lethargic, managing to sit up, barely. 
He obviously took too long, because he could hear the door opening 
and then closing again, followed by heels clicking across his floor. 
Then Scully was crouching in front of him, her cool hands cupping his
cheeks.  He heard her whisper his name, and looked into her eyes, 
seeing the concern on her face.

Her eyes.  He could drown in her eyes.  Their blueness drew him in, 
engulfed him, mesmerized him.  He stared wordlessly into them, not 
hearing her call his name, and then again, more sharply.  There were 
only her eyes.

He vaguely felt her hands leave his cheeks to begin smoothing through
his hair, feeling along his scalp gently.  He blinked slowly, 
heavily, and realized her lips were moving.  Her lips.  Red, ripe, 
full.  Her tongue darted out to moisten them, and he mimicked her 
gesture, his own lips suddenly dry.

Sound reached him again.  Scully's voice, saying his name.  "Mulder, 
are you all right?  Mulder, can you talk to me?"

He nodded slowly.  He loved to hear her say his name.  The low 
tones, the way she rolled the L slightly.  He had never noticed that
before.  Why hadn't he noticed that before?  Had she always said it 
that way, with the hint of sex hidden beneath?

Her hands were on his upper arms then, urging him up, and he 
shivered at the contact.  Strong, capable hands.  Hands he imagined 
running over his bare chest, up his back.  He swallowed thickly, and 
allowed her to pull him off the couch, lead him into his bedroom, 
faintly hearing her voice telling him she wanted him to lie down.

Mulder staggered slightly as they neared the bed, and the motion 
caused him to lean into Scully, his nose pushing into her hair.  He 
inhaled deeply, and her smell, the smell of Scully, sent a surge of 
lust straight to his groin.

Scully turned to face him fully, her hands coming up to grasp his 
upper arms again.  Of their own volition, his hands rose to her hips.
He clasped them firmly, bringing her body flush against his.  Scully 
gasped, and the sound sent shivers through him.  He thrust his hips 
in reaction, pushing his sudden erection into her stomach.  

"Mulder?" Scully whispered, her voice husky and confused. 

"Mmmmm," he mumbled, mouth nuzzling at her neck, breathing in her 
scent, intoxicating and wild.  His hips thrust again, and one hand 
slid from her hip to grab her ass, pushing her firmly into his body.
He kissed his way up her neck, along her jaw, before finally settling
on those lips.  Lips that were meant for kisses.   Deep, wet, long 
kisses.   His kisses.  His tongue swept inside, forcing her mouth 
open wider.  He ignored her whimper, not knowing if it was from 
desire or fear, not really caring, his other hand leaving her hip to 
trail up her body and tangle in the hair at her nape, holding her 
head still.

He felt her hands slide up his arms to push at his shoulders.  She 
could get little leverage with their bodies pressed so closely 
together, so there was no strength behind the effort.  He ignored 
her attempt, slanting his head for better access to her mouth.   She
moved her head, trying to pull away, and his hand grabbed the back
of her neck roughly, squeezing until she desisted.

Without breaking the kiss he swept the hand from her ass up her back
to begin tugging at her jacket.  It was difficult, and he had to pull
away from her for precious moments and switch to his other hand, 
until he finally succeeded in removing it.  He threw it to the floor,
having never once lost contact with her lips.  He walked towards his
bed, pushing her with his body.  He felt it bump against her legs and
then they were falling upon it, his body landing atop of hers, her 
lips finally breaking free from his kiss.

"Mulder?  What the hell are you doing?"  Scully asked, and there was
anger in her voice, as well as a touch of fear.  Her hands had come 
up to his chest as they fell to the bed, and she began pushing at 
him, bracing her back against the firm mattress.

He did not reply, did not even meet her gaze.  His eyes were 
focused on her chest, which was heaving from her exertions.  His 
pelvis ground into hers as he lifted his upper body up to grab her 
hands with both of his. He pulled them away from his chest and lifted
them to rest on the bed over her head.  The motion thrust her breasts
forward and pulled her blouse away from her pants.  His eyes were 
drawn to the pale flesh revealed.  He manacled her wrists with one of
his hands, and the other came to rest on her throat.  He slid that 
hand down her front until it came to a rest on the bare flesh of her 
stomach.  The muscles there skittered and jumped at his touch.  He 
slid it back up, dragging the blouse with it, baring more of her 
skin. He caught a glimpse of pale pink lace and his fingers were 
suddenly tugging at her buttons.  The first three opened with ease, 
but he had trouble with the one between her breasts.  With a growl, 
he pulled at it.  The button popped, and he heard it roll across the 
floor.  He parted the blouse, and his breath escaped in a hiss as he 
stared at the swell of her breasts, encased in pale pink satin cups, 
the bra edged with that same lace.

He could hear his name being whispered over and over again, but the 
voice was faint, far away.  Were there tears in that voice?  
He pushed the thought away, too entranced with the beauty before him.
His face descended, burying itself in her cleavage.  He inhaled 
deeply, smelling the musk of her body.  His erection began pulsing,
pressing painfully against the confines of his pants.  He began a 
slow, steady thrusting against her to relieve the ache.

Her wrists were twisting in his grasp, and she had begun to buck to 
try and throw his weight off of her.  He tightened his grip on her 
wrists, feeling the fine bones grinding together, and shifted his 
lower body slightly, so that it pinned her more completely, 
beginning his thrusting motions again, harder this time. His free 
hand came up and plucked at the front clasp of her bra.  It opened,
and he slid the cups aside to reveal her bare breasts.  His breath 
escaped him in a hiss of pleasure.

His hand hovered in the air a moment before covering one of the 
mounds, hefting its weight, squeezing it firmly.  He released it to 
let his hand move lightly, brushing his palm over her nipple.  It 
hardened with the motion, and he bared his teeth in a savage grin as
he heard a moan.  His fingers pinched it, rolled it between his thumb
and one finger.  

The moan came again, and he felt his penis spasm in reaction.  His
mind suddenly had one thought, and one thought only.  To plunge 
himself into her, over and over again.

His hand moved from her breast to the waistband of her pants.  He 
yanked at the button, feeling it pop and come away in his hands.  He 
flung it over his shoulder and then pulled her zipper down.  She was 
squirming again, her body twisting, trying to dislodge him, and he 
used her motions to work her pants down her legs.  He pulled her 
shoes off roughly, hearing each one clunk as it hit the floor, and 
then yanked her pants off, throwing them down as well.  He ran his 
hand up her leg to the apex of her thighs, encountering the barrier 
of her matching silk panties.  

His breath was panting in and out harshly, and his fingers plucked 
ineffectually at the panties. With a growl of frustration, he grasped
the edge and ripped them off, the thin material almost shredded by 
the strength of the motion.  

There was only the rushing in his ears, and the feel of her body 
beneath his.  His hand pulled his shirt out of his pants and ripped 
it open, buttons scattering like seeds in the wind.  He moved to his 
own waistband, struggling with his belt buckle.  Wasted seconds as he
fought with it, and finally it was open.  His fingers fumbled at the 
button, the zipper.  He shoved his pants and jockeys down together, 
his erection springing free.  It was huge, engorged with blood, and 
throbbed with each beat of his heart.  His feet kicked once more, the
clothes dropping to the floor.

He used his knee to shove her legs apart and forced his hips between
them, bringing his lower body flush against hers, his penis brushing 
against the nest of curls.  He reached between them and grabbed his 
penis in his hand, guiding it to her entrance, thrusting his hips 
forward.  He met resistance, she was not wet and ready for him.  His
hand went to her leg, sliding under her thigh.  He lifted her leg, 
bending it at the knee and pushing it towards her chest.  It opened 
her wide, and he shoved inside.  She cried out in pain, and her body 
lurched against his in reaction, unwittingly pulling him deeper.  He 
moaned as her heat enveloped him.   

He began to thrust harder, rapid movements that caused his belly to
slap against hers, feeling her body rock beneath his.  He released 
her wrists in order to use that arm to support his weight, his other 
arm still clamped around her thigh, holding her leg up.  This new 
position enabled him to push harder, deeper.  Beyond anything but the
feel of her body writhing beneath his, he barely felt her hands 
hitting at his chest, shoving at him.

He buried his face in the flesh of her breasts, sucking and nipping, 
unaware of the grunting noises that escaped his mouth with each 
thrust of his body.  His teeth tugged at a nipple and he sucked 
furiously, his tongue worrying it frantically.  

Her unique scent, mingling with the smell of sex filled his nostrils,
and an animal urge overcame him. He bit the flesh before him, high on
the slope of her left breast, feeling his teeth break the surface.  
She cried out, her voice high and thin, and her hips bucked mightily 
in her pain.  Her motion disturbed his rhythm, and he growled his 
anger.  His hand left her thigh and came up to wrap around her 
throat, squeezing until he heard choking sounds.  He released her 
throat, ignoring her gasps for air, hand trailing along her neck to 
her breast where he plucked at her nipple with his fingertips for a 
moment.  He then dropped the weight of his upper body onto her, his 
hands sliding under her back to crush her tightly to him, hips 
resuming their fast pumping.

Her fists began to beat at his back, his ribs.  She grabbed a handful
of his hair and yanked, and his head reared back, shaking her hand 
loose before his mouth descended on hers, grinding against her teeth.
He felt a flash of heat high on his shoulder blade as her fingernails
scored his flesh, but he ignored it.  The incredible pressure was 
building in his groin and he continued to pump, faster and faster, 
hips slamming against hers.  

Suddenly with one last, hard thrust, he emptied himself into her, his
entire body tensing, a long, drawn-out groan forced past his lips.  
His muscles quivered as his hips still pumped away, and then he 
finally collapsed atop her, lungs heaving. 

His breathing slowed, and his muscles became lax, heavy.  Within
moments he had passed out.

***

Scully lay beneath him, breathing with difficulty as his weight 
compressed on her chest.  She could still feel his penis twitching 
within her.  Hot tears continued to leak from her eyes, sliding into
her hair.  Her bottom lip hurt and she could taste blood.  She wasn't
sure if she had bitten it, or if Mulder had. 

Mulder.  Her eyes squeezed shut, the memories running rampant through
her mind.  Arriving at his apartment to find him sitting slumped on 
the couch.  His vagueness and lack of response. Leading him to his 
bedroom, intending to help him undress and tuck him in.  Him 
stumbling against her, and then his hands grabbing her, pulling her
into his body.  Feeling his erection pressed against her, her own
surge of arousal in response, quickly masked.   His lips nuzzling her
neck, his hand on her ass.  Then his mouth on hers, his tongue deep 
inside.  Trying to push him away, knowing it was too much, too soon,
even if she did want him.  Badly.  He was moving too fast, they 
should talk.  His hand rough on her neck, holding her still.  Him 
pulling her jacket off and pushing her onto the bed.  Fear and anger 
warring within her as she tried to stop him.   Him tearing at her
their clothes, the surprising shock as he entered her roughly.  Her 
ineffectual struggles to get him off her, to reach him somehow, 
calling his name to no avail.  His hand at her throat, squeezing, 
choking her.

She stifled a sob, re-living the fear she had felt at thinking 
Mulder, Fox Mulder, her partner, her best friend, could ever hurt her
that way.   She tried to move, feeling aches and pains all over her 
body.  His snoring reached her ears, and gathering every last bit of
strength she had left, she put her palms flat on his chest and 
shoved.  Mulder rolled off of her onto his back, his penis slipping 
out, leaving a burning sensation between her thighs.  She pulled her
legs free and rose painfully from the bed.  The tears continued to 
run down her face, dripping onto the floor.  She winced as she stood
there, weaving slightly. 

 She staggered into his bathroom to clean herself, turning the taps 
on, avoiding the mirror over the sink, not wanting to see her 
reflection.  As she ran the water over a cloth that had been sitting 
on the countertop, she involuntarily looked up.  Her eyes were huge
and wild in her face, tears leaving mascara tracks along her cheeks,
lips red and swollen, and her hair was a disheveled mess.  She looked
away, running the cloth over her eyes before folding the cloth and 
hurriedly wiping between her legs, wincing again at the soreness 
there.  She rinsed the cloth out thoroughly and then tossed it in the
small hamper in the corner. Her open blouse flapped around her as she
moved, and she looked down at herself.  Her bra hung open as well, 
and she was naked from the waist down.  Her eyes were caught then by 
the bite mark on the fleshy upper part of her left breast.  It was 
almost a complete circle, clear imprints of Mulder's teeth.   A wave 
of mixed emotions, of shame and fear and pain, washed over her, and 
her hand came down to steady herself against the sink cabinet as she 
felt faint for a brief moment.   She took a deep breath to steady 
herself, and quickly re-did the clasp on her bra, before buttoning up
her blouse.  It gaped open at her cleavage, due to the button Mulder 
had ripped off in his haste, but she knew her jacket would hide the 
sight from the prying eyes of anyone she might encounter on the way
home.

Scully almost tiptoed back into Mulder's bedroom.  She needed to get 
out of here before he woke up.  She stooped and grabbed her pants, 
hands trembling a little, shooting quick looks in Mulder's direction 
to make sure he had not awoke.  In the semi-darkness she could not 
see her panties, and heard again in her mind the sound they had made
as Mulder had torn them off her.  She shoved her legs into her pants 
hastily, she could ignore the fact that she had no underwear on for 
the trip home.  Her shoes were almost hidden beneath his pants beside
the bed, and she pulled them free, grabbing her jacket as well, 
before making her way carefully through the mess that remained, out 
into the other room.  She glanced back once more, to see Mulder
sprawled on his back, legs spread, mouth open, snoring.

She put her shoes and jacket on, buttoning it to conceal her gaping 
blouse, and picked up her gun off the coffee table where she had 
placed it when she had knelt before Mulder on his couch.  Her keys 
were there as well and she scooped them up.  She left, shutting the
door quietly behind her, walking carefully down the hallway to the 
elevator.




Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, D.C.


Scully let herself into her apartment, shutting the door and locking 
it behind her, sliding the deadbolt home as well.  During the drive 
home her body had stiffened, and walking from the car to her 
apartment had brought all her aches and pains to new life.  She 
desperately needed a long, hot soak in her tub.

She glanced at her answering machine as she passed the small table 
and dropped her keys upon it, feeling a sense of deja vu, remembering
coming home and doing the same thing not too long ago.  The red light
was flashing, signaling a message or messages waiting, but she 
ignored it, continuing on towards her bedroom.  

She put her gun back into her holster sitting on her dresser and then
simultaneously kicked off her shoes while removing her jacket.  She 
allowed the jacket to fall to the floor, eyes closing briefly as she 
saw Mulder tear it off her and throw it to the ground.  She 
unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall as well, knowing she would 
probably never be able to wear it again, even if she replaced the 
missing button.  Her bra and pants quickly followed, joining the 
pile.  She grabbed her thick terrycloth robe from the foot of her 
bed, wrapping it tightly around her body, shivering slightly from the
cold.  Probably from delayed shock too, she told herself.  Tying the
sash, she shuffled into the bathroom, bending to turn the taps on, 
letting the water run for a few minutes before plugging the drain.  
She cranked the hot water tap as far as it could go.

Her legs were shaky, and she felt weak.  She hated to feel weak, and 
cursed softly as fresh tears sprung to her eyes. Why had Mulder...She
stopped the thought, she would not think about him, about what had 
happened.  Not right now.  She sank down onto the toilet seat, 
staring mindlessly at the water filling the tub, at the steam that 
rose from the heat of it.  She was unaware she was rocking herself 
back and forth, her arms crossed defensively across her middle.

Finally the tub was nearly full and she stood with a wince, shedding 
her robe.  She lifted her leg slowly and stepped into the tub, 
feeling the burn of the hot water.  She didn't care.  Her other leg 
followed and she sank down onto her bottom, legs drawn up to her 
chest, one arm clasped around her knees.  Her other hand reached out
and turned the taps off.  Her skin had reddened from the hot water 
almost immediately, and she felt the ache between her legs begin to
throb.  Goose bumps covered her bare arms and shoulders and she 
shivered before scooting her rear end down slightly so that she could
lie back, her head coming to a rest on the rim of the tub.

A sigh passed her lips as the heat of the water began to work its 
magic, easing the myriad aches and pains of her body.  The water 
stung the bite mark on her breast, and her hand came up, one finger 
tracing it lightly.  The skin was broken, but had not bled, and 
although it would be bruised for a while, she knew it would not scar.
Her nipples were sore, from his twisting and pulling.  She stared at 
the wrist of the hand by her breast and then brought the other one up
to examine it too. There were faint finger-sized marks on both of 
them, marks she knew would be bruises in the morning.  Her hand went 
to her throat next, remembering the feel of his hand choking her, 
sure there would also be evidence of it the next day.  Her left thigh
ached from being held up close to her body, and even though she could
not see the back of it, she was sure it too would be marked.

Scully realized suddenly that by taking this bath, she had 
effectively destroyed some of the evidence of her rape.  She 
swallowed the lump in her throat, finally admitting to herself that 
that was what had happened to her.  She had been raped. By Mulder.  

Not that she would consider reporting the incident to anyone.  Ever. 







Mulder's Apartment
Alexandria, VA


Mulder woke in the darkness of night.  He realized that he was naked 
and he was cold.  His hands fumbled at the bedding for long moments, 
feeling his head throb slightly with his motions.  Finally he managed
to pull them out from under his body so that he could snuggle into 
the warmth.  He turned on his side, and moved his head a little on 
the pillow, trying to find a position that would not aggravate his 
head further.  He pulled the blankets up around his neck, tucking his
head down, his nose almost buried.  For some reason, the bedding 
smelled like Scully.

He smiled to himself, rubbing his cheek against the pillow.  Scully. 
He drifted back to sleep thinking of Scully.

***