Title:            Revenge
Author:           Lovesfox
E-mail:           Lovesfox@rogers.com  (Feed me, please)
Web site:         http://www.geocities.com/kim_djd/index.html
Rating:           NC-17 (violence, consensual M/S sex and strong 
                  language)
Category:         Implied UST then MSR, Angst, Story/X-File
Classification:   XRA
Spoilers:         Not really, but up to mid-S7
Archive:          As long as my name and everything stays attached
Summary:          An old case of Mulder's resurfaces seeking revenge

Disclaimer:       Alas, not mine.  They belong to Chris Carter and
                  1013 Productions

Dedication:       To true friendship, through thick and thin.  
                  Thanks, T.

Warning:          This story contains some scenes of violence, a rape
                  attempt, implied character death, references to
                  incest, and graphic sex.




Revenge Part 15 of 29
by Lovesfox




Skinner's Office
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Monday
11:30 am


Skinner moved briskly through the throngs of people in the 
hallway.   His face was a careful mask, hiding any sign of emotion 
or feeling.  His fists were clenched tightly however, a clue to 
anyone who might have looked that he was angry. Finally he reached 
his destination, and stepped into the outer office that housed his 
assistant.

Kimberley was busy at the computer, but she looked up at his 
entrance.  The smile that had started to form on her lips faded 
away when she saw him.  Her tone was sympathetic as she asked, 
"It didn't go well, Sir?"

He had told her on his way out to head upstairs that he had a 
meeting about the situation with Elliot Andercott, and whether 
surveillance was to be continued on Agents Mulder and Scully, and 
that he did not have a good feeling about it.  It was apparent 
that Kimberly had realized that his feeling had been correct.  
He grunted negatively, shaking his head, and then took a deep 
breath.  There was no point in dwelling on it, the decision had 
been made, and by someone higher up then he.  Except he was the 
one who had to tell Mulder the surveillance was to be terminated 
in the next few days.

Skinner forced himself to relax, and said, "Any messages?"

Kimberley shook her head, replying, "No, sir, no messages."

Skinner glanced at his watch and decided to leave for his lunch 
date with Allison a little early.  He was meeting her at a little 
cafe a couple of blocks from the Hoover building, before he headed 
over to Scully's apartment to meet with her and Mulder to discuss 
the status of the investigation into Elliot Andercott and the 
surveillance on them both.  

"I'm heading out for lunch and then over to Agent Scully's.  I 
have my cellular, or you can reach me there later," he told 
Kimberley, who nodded and smiled.

His steps were lighter this time as he made his way down to the 
parking garage, having skipped the elevator and taken the stairs 
instead.  

In moments he was in his car and headed down the street.  He was 
lucky, and found a parking spot right in front of the cafe. 

They had arranged to meet at noon, and he was early, so after 
sitting at a table, just asked the waitress for a glass of water, 
explaining his companion would be joining him shortly.  She 
smiled and brought the water quite quickly, for the place had not 
yet gotten its lunchtime crowd.

The time passed rather quickly, and as the tables slowly filled 
to capacity, he checked his watch several times, wondering where 
she was.  He knew traffic could be heavy at this time of day, so 
he assumed she was just caught in traffic.  Or maybe she had 
decided to walk, and that was why she was late.

However, he couldn't keep his fingers from tapping on the smooth 
surface he sat before, feeling awkward and very noticeable sitting 
alone at the table without food.  

From across the crowded cafe, the waitress held up the menu yet 
again, and he shook his head once more.

Where the hell was she?

Finally, at just before 12:30, he accepted that Allison was not 
going to show.  He gestured for the waitress, and after she had 
wound her way through the other tables to his, placed a take-out 
order for a turkey on whole wheat.  It fortunately did not take 
long, and when she brought it to him in a little deli bag, he 
handed her a ten and told her to keep the change.

He ate the sandwich as he drove to Scully's apartment and had 
finished it before he arrived.  A car had pulled out from the 
spot in front of the building, and he took advantage of the prime 
parking location.  He scanned the area out of habit, seeing the 
unmarked car that contained the two agents still assigned to 
Mulder and Scully about a block away.  He made no sign that he
had seen them, and strode up the walk and inside the building to 
Scully's apartment door.

Two brisk raps on the wood surface, and then he waited, knowing 
Mulder was probably peering at him through the peephole.  A moment 
later he heard the bolt sliding open and the lock disengaging.  

The door opened, revealing Mulder standing there in a tee shirt 
and jeans, his feet bare.  He looked casual and comfortable, and 
quite at home, except for the gun held down by his side.  He was 
obviously taking his job to guard Scully very seriously.

Once inside, Skinner saw Scully standing just beside the couch.  
She smiled a little when she saw him, and then sat down.  His 
quick eyes had noted she looked very tired and pale, with circles 
beneath her eyes.  He walked past Mulder and sat down on the edge 
of the wing chair that was to the left of the sofa, leaving the 
space on the couch for Mulder, who also sat down.

Without preamble, he began.  "Well, the meeting went pretty much 
as I suspected, and told you yesterday.  The surveillance is to 
be terminated as of Wednesday.  With no contact from Andercott, 
despite the lack of a body or a location, the Bureau feels it is 
a waste of resources."  The look on his face showed he did not 
share that opinion.  "They do, however, share my concern that 
this matter may not be over, and are in agreement with the 
suggestion that I made."

"Which is?" Mulder broke in, somewhat rudely.  He had risen from 
the couch and was now pacing about the room.  His feelings were 
quite plain on his face.  He was angry, and worried.  

"That you remain with Agent Scully at all times until she returns 
to active duty.  Said active duty is not scheduled for another 
week."

Scully's face had been a calm mask as she watched Mulder pace, 
but she started a little at hearing his last words, and turned to 
face him.  "You suggested this, sir?" she asked.  "And they 
agreed?"

"I did," he replied.  "They did."  Skinner grimaced a little 
and continued.  "After a bit of persuasion."   He sighed, and 
then let his body sink back into the chair.  "Quite a bit of 
persuasion," he added, almost unnecessarily.  He knew Mulder 
and Scully were familiar with the often-difficult workings of 
Bureau politics.

Scully's voice was soft, as was the look on her face.  
"Thank-you, sir.  I know it must not have been easy trying to 
get them to agree to your plan."

Mulder finally stopped pacing, and resumed his seat on the 
couch.  "I'll enlist the Gunmen to help with surveillance.  
I've already got them searching high and low for any mention 
or sign of Andercott," he related, his voice tight-sounding.

Skinner nodded, and watched as Scully reached out to grasp 
Mulder's hand and squeeze it tightly.  Mulder glanced at her, 
and they seemed to have a silent conversation.  He realized 
that the energy always present around the two seemed charged, 
electric almost.  

Something had changed, and he thought for the better. He found 
himself wondering once again about the true nature of their 
relationship, and decided he would check on the status of the 
pool running about them when he got back to the office.  He 
couldn't participate in it, not as an AD, but he knew 
Kimberley had.  He could give her a nudge in the right 
direction.

There was no actual rule forbidding that two agents could not 
have a relationship, although it had always been frowned upon.  
The fact that they were partners, under his supervision, made 
it even more of a dilemma.  Yet they had also become more than 
just agents in his command, he had a connection to them deeper 
than just that of employer-subordinate.  He resolved that he 
would look the other way whether they were starting, or 
continuing, a relationship beyond friendship.

Skinner had nothing else to discuss with them, so he rose to 
his feet.  "I have nothing else, Agents, but will continue to 
check in with you several times a day.  If anything comes on 
regarding Andercott, I will of course contact you as soon as 
possible.  I trust you will do the same if you learn anything 
from your outside sources?"

Mulder and Scully rose almost as one, their hands still 
connected, and Mulder nodded.  "Of course, Sir," he replied.  
Scully released his hand, and Mulder moved around the couch to 
see him out the door.  "Thanks, sir," he added as Skinner 
stepped out into the hallway.

Scully echoed him, calling out, "Thank-you again, sir."

Skinner nodded and strode down the hallway, hearing the door 
close and lock behind him.  He made his way quickly outside and 
to his car.  

Once back at the Bureau, he headed directly to his office.  He 
passed Allison in the hallway, who smiled at him.  He merely 
nodded back and continued on, despite the fact that she had been 
turning to talk to him.

He was too old for these kinds of games.  

Kimberley was not at her desk, so he would have to tell her 
later to arrange calls to the agents who had been on surveillance 
duty for Mulder and Scully to inform them of the plan to end the 
duty as of Wednesday.  He shrugged his jacket off and hung it on 
the back of his chair before taking a seat.  At some point while 
he was gone, Kimberley had added a new stack of files to his desk, 
although thankfully it was a small one.

A knock came at the door, and he lifted his head to see Allison 
standing there.  "Yes?" he asked gruffly.  Why did she have to be 
so damn pretty?

"Walter," she began, for he had told her to call him Walter after 
their second coffee date, feeling awkward hearing her say AD 
Skinner while he used her first name.  "Is something wrong?"  Her 
face wore a puzzled expression as she waited for him to respond.

He had intended to be cool about the whole matter, but his feelings 
got the better of him, and he reacted, saying with a more than a 
little anger, "I don't like being stood up.  I would have 
aappreciated a call if you couldn't make it."

Her eyes widened, and she almost stammered, "I don't understand...
what do you mean?"

Skinner's collar felt tight.  Had he perhaps mixed the dates?  
He glanced down at his little desk calendar.  No, it was open to 
today's date, and in his scrawl was her name and the time, noon.  
Was it a game?  Was this how it was played?  He exhaled loudly and 
said, "Our lunch date?  At the cafe?"

She blinked, and then her cheeks reddened suddenly.  "Oh, no...
was that today?  I'm so sorry, Walter.  I honestly forgot."  She 
brought one hand up to cover her face.

The look appeared genuine.  But, she forgot?  He felt a wave of 
cold run through his body.  Maybe he was taking things too 
seriously; maybe she had just been being nice.  He rubbed his hand 
over his mouth nervously, unsure of what his next step should be.  
Make a joke; tell her it was no big deal?

"Maybe we could re-schedule?" she asked tentatively.  "I'll write 
it down this time, I promise."  She smiled a little and continued, 
her words rushed, almost babbling. "If it's not about my job, I 
tend to forget everything if I don't write it down.  It's terrible, 
I know, but I can't help it.  My mother always says I need a keeper."

"We could do that," he answered slowly.  "How about you pick a time 
and a place, and let me know?"   

Now the ball was in her court.  If she did not call, she obviously 
was not interested.  He pulled one of the files towards him and 
opened it, to show he was busy.

Allison's voice was low, but sounded happy.  Relieved.  "I will 
then, and let you know, okay?"  At his nod, she turned and left.

Skinner sank back into his chair, staring at the empty doorway.

***

Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, D.C.
Monday
1:00 pm


Mulder glanced down at the woman dozing in his arms.  Her feet 
were curled up so that her heels brushed against her rear, and 
her head was on his chest.  Faint smudges were visible beneath her 
closed eyes, evidence of her troubled nights.  He was used to 
getting little or no sleep on a regular basis, and was not really 
bothered by it now.  He was thankful she was getting at least a 
little sleep now, even if it was curled up somewhat uncomfortably 
on her couch.  

Scully had started having nightmares late Saturday night, waking 
him up with her cries.  He had been sleeping beside her, at her 
insistence, and the eerie keening noises she had made had scared 
him more than any full-blooded scream would have.

He had been afraid to touch her at first, for she had stared 
wild-eyed at him, her body shoved up against the headboard as far 
away from him as possible.  

The moonlight had streamed into the room, illuminating her pale, 
frightened face.  Little gasping sounds had come from her mouth 
intermittently. He had spoken soothingly, his hands in front of 
him so that they were clearly visible to her, and after a few 
minutes she had calmed and thrown herself into his arms, silent 
silvered tears running down her cheeks.  

He had managed to get them both back under the covers, spooning 
his body around hers, feeling her shiver, and stroked her hair 
until she had finally fallen into a fitful slumber.  

Twice more that night she had awakened him the same way.

Sunday night had been no better.  They had stayed up late, 
watching movies, in the hopes that exhaustion would keep the 
nightmares at bay.  

It had not.  

She had been tired, extremely so, but less than an hour after 
climbing into her bed, she had awoken with a moan of fear, 
pushing violently at his arms, which had been wrapped around her.

The entire night had been passed that way.  Scully falling 
exhaustedly off to sleep in his arms, only to wake up crying and
shaking.  He had asked her after the second nightmare if she 
wanted to talk more in-depth about her experience with Andercott, 
in the hopes that doing so might be a catharsis of sorts, but she 
had told him she was not yet ready to do so.  

Disappointed that she had not chosen to unburden herself to him, 
but at the same time understanding she needed to deal with it in 
her own way, he had desisted, not wanting to distress her 
further.

She had been wan and red-eyed earlier that morning when she rose 
from the bed, barely able to meet his eyes, and he had hid his 
hurt.  He had told her he would make breakfast while she had her 
shower, and had tucked his feelings away while puttering in her 
kitchen making bacon and eggs.  

When the shower had stopped, he had assumed she had gone to get 
dressed, and it was only his keen sense of smell, catching a whiff 
of peaches and vanilla that had warned him she had come into the 
kitchen.  Her arms had suddenly been tight around his waist, her 
nose buried in his back.  

Her voice, low and husky had whispered,  "Thank-you for not pushing 
me.  Just as you thanked me for telling you the truth about how I 
felt yesterday, I thank-you for letting me tell you in my own way, 
in my own time."  

He had placed his hands on her terry cloth covered arms, returning 
her embrace as best he could, and then heard her whisper, "I love 
you, Mulder.  I always have, and I always will."  Her arms had 
loosened, enabling him to spin around to hug her tightly to his 
chest, rubbing his nose in her damp hair, his hands running up and 
down her back.  Before he could say anything, she had spoken again, 
"Don't ever doubt that I love you, Mulder."

"I still believe, Scully," he had whispered back, and by the 
movement of her face against his chest, knew she had smiled.  

She had pulled free then, and he had let her, sensing she needed to 
pull back a little, to regroup.  He had told her, "Breakfast is 
almost ready.  Why don't you get dressed?"  

She had nodded and turned to go to her bedroom.  

"I love you, Dana Katherine Scully," he had added before she had 
made it from the room, and she had spun around and rushed back 
into his arms, their mouths meeting in an explosive kiss that had 
had his pulse soaring and his heart pounding.  A moment later she 
had again pulled from his arms and left the room, leaving him 
standing there slack-jawed with surprise and desire.

Thinking about that kiss again now, Mulder had to shift a little 
on the couch, spreading his legs slightly, careful not to disturb 
Scully.  

She moved anyway, making a little mewling sound, her head rubbing 
back and forth on his chest.  He grinned at her kitten-like 
actions, wondering what she would think of his naming her a kitten.

The knocks that came then surprised him a little.  He didn't think 
Skinner was due for a while.  He lifted his arm to glance at his 
watch and then looked at Scully again.  She shifted, obviously 
having heard the knock, and lifted herself off of him so he could 
get up and answer it.  

He grabbed his gun off the coffee table and moved over to the door.  
He took a quick peek through the peephole and saw the balding head 
of their boss.  He relaxed, calling to Scully, who had also risen 
from the couch, "It's Skinner."  He unbolted and unlocked the door, 
pulling it open, and then stepped aside to let Skinner enter.

Their superior walked in and over to the wing back chair, sitting 
on its edge.  He waited until Mulder had closed the door and sat 
back down on the couch beside Scully before beginning.  

His first words, while not actually a big surprise, angered Mulder, 
and his anger had him up on his feet and pacing.   He was also a 
little rude to Skinner. His gut feeling told him Andercott was 
still alive, and not quite finished with them yet.  He was also 
worried that he would not be enough to protect her.  

Not that he would ever vocalize that worry to her, she'd have his 
nuts in a knot for the implication that she was not able to protect 
herself.  Being somewhat fond of them as they were, he decided 
silence was the best course of action.  Besides, he was hoping 
they would get to see some action of their own very soon.

Skinner's next sentence, about Mulder remaining with Scully until 
she resumed active duties, something he had decided to suggest 
himself, surprised him so that he was actually rendered speechless. 

Scully was not however, and quietly asked Skinner, "You suggested 
this?  And they agreed?"  At Skinner's affirmation, she thanked him, 
telling him she knew it must have been difficult.

Mulder finally stopped pacing and sat back down beside Scully.  
He observed Skinner's somewhat undignified position, slumped back 
into the chair, and that their superior seemed very down.  He was 
tempted to ask if anything was wrong, but Skinner had never really 
shared many personal details about his life, and he felt awkward 
intruding in it.  

Pushing his thought aside, he decided to kill two birds with one 
stone, and inform both Scully and Skinner that he had asked the 
Gunmen to aid in the surveillance, as well as search for any sign 
of Andercott.  He couldn't keep the tightness out of his voice 
when he said the bastard's name, but relaxed fractionally when 
Scully reached over and grasped his hand, squeezing it.

He looked at her, into her blue eyes, and was calmed.  They spoke 
volumes, sending him love and reassurance.  They also promised 
things - deep, wet kisses and unbelievable passion.  The hairs on 
his entire body stood up, and he nearly shivered.  He had never 
loved anyone, or wanted someone, as deeply and with such painful 
pleasure as he did the woman beside him.  

He wanted her to know him, inside and out, as no other ever had.  
He wanted to spend hours and hours learning every part of her body, 
mapping every inch of her skin.  He wanted to take her fast and 
furious, hearing her scream his name in ecstasy.  He wanted...

Skinner rising suddenly broke the spell he had fallen under, making 
the obligatory speech about contacting him if they had any news, 
and that he would do the same.   

He and Scully rose from the couch together, hands still clasped.  
Scully let go, reluctantly it seemed, and he swore he felt a spark 
as their fingers released.  He answered Skinner, saying, "Of course, 
Sir," and then moving around the couch, saw the AD out the door, 
adding, "Thank-you, Sir."

Mulder closed and locked the door and looked to see Scully still 
standing by the couch, watching him.  Her eyes were slumberous, 
and as much as he wanted to drag her down the hallway to ravish her 
on her bed, he pushed aside his caveman impulses.  

He walked to her side and stroked her cheek gently, loving the way 
she leaned into the caress, tilting her head so that he cupped her 
cheek.  Unable to resist the lure of that curved beauty, he bent 
and pressed feather-light kisses along her cheekbone to her lips.  

She sighed, her body wilting, and he pulled back with regret.  
Pushing her gently onto the sofa, he bent and lifted her feet up 
onto the couch, so she lay stretched out.  He took the chenille 
throw from the back of the couch and spread it over her.  "Rest 
for me?" he asked, and smiled when she nodded.  "I have a call to 
make, and then I'll join you, okay?"

Her sleepy smile and eyes drifting shut was his answer.  A last 
lingering caress with his eyes, and he moved into the kitchen so 
he wouldn't disturb her.

***

4:30 pm

Scully stretched with a contented groan, her eyes still shut.  
She actually felt rested for the first time in a couple of days, 
and did not want this lazy lethargy of her limbs to end.  Her 
fingers curled around the edge of the blanket that covered her 
for a moment before relaxing again, and a small smile drifted 
over her lips.  Mulder must have covered her up.  She had a 
vague memory of him lifting her feet onto the couch and telling 
her to rest for him.

She remembered something else then.  He had also said he would 
join her.

Her eyes snapped open, and she struggled to sit up.  Sounds from 
the kitchen reached her ears.  Water running, a cupboard banging, 
followed by a muffled curse.  She smiled again.  And now he was 
cooking dinner for her.  

He had acted affronted yesterday morning after he made her 
breakfast and she had been surprised, telling her with a pout 
that he wasn't just a brilliant profiler, that he was an okay 
cook with other hidden talents.  His wagging eyebrows had hinted 
at what he had meant by 'other' talents.   The leer he added had 
started a tingle low in her belly, and made her blush.

Thinking about it now made her blush again.  She shook her head 
slightly and leaned back into the sofa cushion.  Mulder had 
always had that affect on her, unbeknownst to him; she had just 
been able to hide her reactions better.  But since she had 
finally heard those three little words she had longed to hear 
from his lips, she hadn't wanted to hide those reactions.  She 
wanted to revel in them, respond to them, and give them right 
back to him.  

As her eyes wandered she saw that there were no lights on in 
the apartment, and the shades were partially drawn on the windows, 
letting in only some sun.  She recognized the time of day as 
being late afternoon, and was surprised that she had managed to 
sleep that long without having any dreams.

Her dreams.  

A shiver ran through her body at the thought of them, and 
she pulled the throw blanket up from her waist where it had 
puddled to cover her shoulders, clutching it to her neck.  
Whatever happy or romantic feelings she had been having rapidly 
disappeared.

At first the dreams had been dark, jumbled.  She had felt fear, 
and pain, but had not known why.  Woken up crying out, terrified 
to find she was not alone, that someone was in the room with her.  
Mulder's low voice, speaking soothing words, had finally reached 
her in that place in her mind where she hid, and she had flung 
herself into his arms.  Drawing the comfort and protection she 
knew she would find from him.

And comfort her he had.  Tucking her back into the covers like 
a child, holding her back against his chest, his strong thighs 
beneath her own legs, stroking his big hand through her hair 
until she had fallen asleep again.  

Only to wake from another nightmare God knows how long after 
the first one.

As they progressed, the dreams became more detailed.  Elliot 
Andercott was in each and every one of them, but he was not 
always alone.  Sometimes he was joined by Donnie Pfaster, in 
others by Duane Barry and even the Alien Bounty Hunter.  She 
was being taken, she was being hurt, in each one, something 
terrible happened to her.  Strangely, though, or maybe not 
so strangely, the scariest one had been when Mulder had been 
the one harmed.  She had seen him killed by Elliot.

Each had been terrifying in its own way, and she had seemed to 
slip from one to the other with only brief periods of respite, 
sheltered in Mulder's strong arms.

Saturday night had passed that way, and she had been bleary-eyed 
and cranky all of Sunday.  Mulder had been incredibly patient 
and unassuming, asking her quietly if she were hungry or needed 
anything.  Being unobtrusive and careful.  Sometimes his demeanor 
had actually made her angry, and other times she had wanted to 
cry.

He had suggested staying up late Sunday night, to see if her 
tiredness would help keep the nightmares away.  She had agreed, 
willing to try anything, and they had lain together on the couch, 
Mulder sprawled on his back with his bare feet propped on one 
arm, and her lying atop of him, her feet rubbing his calves.  
They had watched Lethal Weapon 1 and 2, Mulder having discovered 
her weakness for Mel Gibson, and he had teased her through both.  
When she could no longer stop the yawns, and her eyes felt like 
they were full of sand, they had retired for the night.

Yet the dreams had still come.  

As distressed as she had been by them, she had still been able 
to see that same distress on Mulder's face.  Heard it in his 
voice when he had asked her if she wanted to talk about them.  

She had also seen the hurt that he tried to hide when she had 
told him no.  She hadn't done it to hurt him, would never 
deliberately hurt him, but had not felt ready to talk about them, 
as if doing so would give them more weight, more power.  Had 
seen the hurt again in the morning when she found it hard to meet 
his eyes, ashamed of her weakness, even as she knew Mulder would 
understand it, would never think less of her for it.

After the shower he had suggested she take, she had shrugged 
into her robe, intending to go to her room to get dressed.  
Something had called her to the kitchen, to Mulder, feeling the 
need to explain or apologize for not being able to tell him yet, 
and she had rushed in and practically thrown herself at his body, 
grabbing him around the waist, anchoring herself to his body.  
She had whispered her love to him, asking him never to doubt it, 
and when he had spun in her arms to embrace her properly, she 
had felt again such a range of emotions-peace, happiness, 
safety, love.

The kiss she had gone back for had been the most incredible, 
arousing kiss she had ever experienced in her entire life.  It 
had taken all of her will power not to push Mulder back against 
the counter, fling off her robe and have her way with him.  But 
that was not how she had wanted their first time to be.  

She would save that for later.

Scully smiled to herself, feeling the heat rise once more to 
her cheeks.  She was really looking forward to later.  And 
before.  And every other time in between.  And there would be 
plenty of other times.  She had quite a few years of longing 
and pent up lust for Mulder to work out, and she was pretty 
sure he had some for her as well.

"Hey, sleepyhead," came Mulder's voice, and she started in 
surprise, seeing him standing beside the couch. She hadn't 
even heard him approach.  "How you feeling?" he asked.

Scully was glad the darkened apartment hid her blush.  She sat 
up, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders again, and 
swung her feet down around to the floor.  "I feel really 
good," she answered.  She stood, her knees creaking in protest, 
and realized she had spoken a little too soon.  Her body 
voiced a few other complaints, her ribs gave a twinge, and 
her back ached.  "Well, I'm rested, at least," she amended 
with a small groan.  She looked at Mulder with a lopsided 
smile.  "I'm getting old, Mulder," she said ruefully. 

He snickered and held out a hand to her.  "Well come on, old 
lady, I'll give you a hand," he said.  He tugged her gently 
down the hall to her bathroom, where he pushed her inside.  
"I'll get you a painkiller while you get cleaned up.  Dinner's 
almost ready, you can watch me drain pasta."

"My wildest desire," she teased.  She met his gaze in the sink 
above the mirror, and he grinned at her.  God, she loved a 
playful Mulder.

"Better believe it, baby," he returned, swatting her gently on 
the behind.  He left the bathroom, and his next sentence drifted 
back to her from her bedroom. "If you're real good, I'll do it 
without my tee shirt."

Despite knowing she was dueling with the innuendo and dirty talk 
King, she still couldn't resist adding, "Not in the nude?" in a 
disappointed tone.

"I was saving that for a more formal dinner," he said, standing 
in the bathroom doorway.  He held out a little white pill, and 
when she opened her palm, he dropped it in the center, letting 
his fingers brush hers as he pulled them away.  

Just that light contact sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.  
She wondered how the long the two of them could hold out.  Okay, 
to be truthful, she was wondering how long she could hold out.  
She knew Mulder would wait until she was ready, and would content 
himself with gentle touches and teasing.   She was also wondering 
if she was being stupid with this insistence to herself to wait 
until things were perfect.  They already were perfect.  Except 
for the fact that she had not yet made love with her man.  What 
were a few bruises and some disturbing dreams?

"Scully?"

She looked up to see Mulder's reflection watching her worriedly.

"Scully, it's okay.  We've waited this long, and I want it to be 
perfect too.  I will wait forever for you to be ready."  His voice 
was husky, and honesty burned brightly in his beautiful hazel eyes.

My God, he had read her mind.  Not that he hadn't seemed to on 
many an occasion, as she had seemed to read his once in a while.  
But to know exactly what she was thinking, and to reassure her so. 
Damn her suddenly overly emotional heart.  Tears had filled her 
eyes, and she blinked them back before turning to face him.

She took a step forward, and he leaned into her at just the right 
moment.  Their lips met in a sweet and tender kiss, with no other 
parts of their bodies touching.

Mulder broke it, smiling gently, and said, "Come on, G-woman, let's 
go eat dinner."

As he had intended, her mood lightened, and she grinned back at 
him.  "Show me what you've got, G-man."

"Ooohhh, Scully, just you wait," he said, and taking her hand, led 
her from the bathroom.

I don't think I can, she thought to herself.

***

9:00 pm

Who would have known that watching a shirtless man pour limp 
noodles into a colander could be so...so damn sexy?  

Even hours later, lying in her bubble bath, Scully could still not 
forget the image of Mulder's arms cording as he dumped the boiling 
water and pasta out into the sink, the play of muscles in his back 
as he moved from the stove with the heavy pot.  She smiled to 
herself as she remembered that she had felt it necessary to caution 
him about the possibility of being burnt or injured, despite her 
desire to see his bare chest, but Mulder had waved her concerns 
off with a smile. 

From her vantage point a few feet away, leaning on the counter, 
she had been able to see how the steam had caused dampness to 
form on Mulder's chest, how the hairs there had darkened with 
moisture.  

She had wanted to lick at the sweat on his body, and until Mulder 
had looked at her, his eyes dropping to her mouth, she had not 
realized that the tip of her tongue had been out, licking her 
upper lip in parody of the act.

He had sucked in his breath, his eyes dilating, and Scully had 
felt her cheeks go incredibly hot.  They had stood there for 
long moments, Mulder's hands tight on the handles of the pot, 
staring at each other, her own hands gripping the counter top, 
before Mulder had heaved out a huge breath and with a slight 
waver in his voice, told her to pour the wine.  

Her own breath had whooshed out, leaving her light-headed, and 
she had turned to do so, both grateful and a little saddened 
that he had not taken the next step.

Scully shifted in the tub, lifting one smooth leg up into the 
air for a moment, enjoying the feel of the bubbles as they slid 
along her skin.  The bathroom was warm, partially from the hot 
water Mulder had filled the tub with, and from the candles 
flickering all over the room. 

As she stared at the way the light bounced off the walls, she 
thought about the fact that this was the first time since she 
had killed Donnie Pfaster that she had been able to take a bubble 
bath with lit candles in the room.  She was rather proud of 
herself.

When Mulder had suggested she go relax in the tub after their 
tea, the aches of her body had made her agree without hesitation, 
despite feeling guilty and a little rude leaving him alone while 
she lounged in a tub.  Again he had seemed to read her mind, 
telling her he would be fine, that he wanted to go online and 
check a few things.

While the tub had been filling, she had changed out of her clothes 
and into her robe.  Staring at herself in her dresser mirror, she 
had removed the bandage from around her neck.  The wound was almost 
totally healed, the scabs gone and the flesh the healthy pink of 
new skin.  

The only thing that was missing was her necklace, which had never 
been found.  The nurse had double-checked with the emergency room 
staff, but she had had no personal effects on her person when she 
was admitted.  She thought sadly that it could have fallen off at 
any time since Elliot Andercott had grabbed her, and the chances of 
finding it were unlikely.  With a sigh she forced herself to relax 
shoulders that had gone tense.

Upon entering the bathroom, she had found Mulder busy lighting the 
candles he had obviously discovered in one of her cupboards.  She 
had thrown a huge number out after Pfaster, but had still had some 
lying around.  The urge to yell at him to stop had been strong, her 
mouth already opening, when he had turned to her with a look in his 
eyes that begged for approval.  He had looked so pleased to have 
done this for her, that she didn't have the heart to tell him the 
candles were too much.  So she had smiled and thanked him softly.  

He had brushed a kiss on her lips and left her to her bubbles.

The surge of pride returned.  After a brief flash of how her 
bathroom had looked that night, with the stubs of candles 
everywhere, and the tub still filled, she had been able to relax 
into the steaming water, thinking only of Mulder.

Scully let her hand float lazily beneath the water, just brushing 
the skin of her stomach.  She closed her eyes, and imagined it was 
Mulder's hand instead.  He was in the tub with her, her back to his 
chest, her head resting in the crook of his neck. His calloused 
fingers on her body teasingly light, moving upwards, skimming over 
one nipple, which hardened instantly with the fleeting touch.  His 
head was bent, his lips warm as they grazed over her temple and 
along her cheek.  His hand moved up along her neck to cup her chin, 
turning her head and angling it upwards for his kiss...

"Scully?  You okay in there?"

Mulder's voice.  Low and questioning.

Scully's eyes shot open as she sat upright quickly, breath panting 
in and out from both the shock of the intrusion into her little 
fantasy, and the fantasy itself.  Her motion caused some of the 
water to splash out of the tub onto the floor, and she gasped in 
dismay.

"Scully?"  This time filled with concern.  

In slow motion, Scully's head moved to stare at the door, still 
sitting up in the tub, watching the doorknob turning as Mulder 
opened the door.  

His head popped around it, eyes worried.  As he took in the sight 
of her bare breasts, only partially covered in dissipating bubbles 
and still heaving slightly, they widened comically, and then he 
quickly averted them, choking out, "Sorry."

Heart pounding furiously, Scully fought the instinct to bring her 
hands up to cover herself, and said softly, "It's okay, Mulder."  
She lowered herself slowly back into the water, now feeling a chill 
in the air from the opened door.  "I'm just about done."

His head disappeared, and she could hear him shuffling out in the 
hallway.   "Okay," he replied.  "I'm just going to fix some more 
tea, and then we can watch a movie.  Does that sound all right?"

She had decided right then and there that she needed to tell him 
about her dreams, and her feelings, so that they could move on to 
the next step.  

The one they both so desperately wanted.  

She did not explain this however; she would do that face to face.  
So she merely replied, "Sounds all right to me."

She listened to his footsteps recede down the hallway, and then 
quickly washed up, before pulling the plug out of the drain.  She 
stepped carefully out of the tub, mindful of the puddle of water, 
and wrapped the large fluffy towel Mulder had left for her around 
her body.  She dried off, slathered herself with her body lotion 
and shrugged into her robe.  After swiping up the water with her 
towel and discarding it in the hamper, she was in her bedroom, 
slipping into panties and a sweatshirt and tights.  She left her 
feet bare, having noticed Mulder always seemed entranced when he 
saw her bare toes.

A quick peek in the kitchen showed her Mulder getting the tea 
tray ready.  He looked over his shoulder, knowing she was there, 
and smiled, saying, "Go sit on the couch, it's almost ready."  

She nodded and moved into the living room, sitting herself down 
on one end of the couch to wait for him.

Mulder had two lamps lit, very low, and the window shades drawn, 
making the room cozy and warm.  It was perfect for her to tell 
him everything.

***

9:00 pm

Mulder relaxed on Scully's sofa while she took her bubble bath, 
his feet propped on her coffee table.  He smirked as he wiggled 
his toes, what she couldn't see wouldn't hurt him.  

Of course, as soon as she was out of that bathroom, his feet were 
on the floor.

His mind wandered back to their dinner.  He had surprised himself 
by actually removing his tee shirt as he had joked, and drained the 
pasta bare-chested.  The slight risk of injury had been worth the 
look he had seen in Scully's eyes.  

Lust.  Pure, unadulterated lust.  

Lust he definitely reciprocated.  It had been with supreme effort 
of will that he had not reacted to her look, and the sight of her 
pink tongue licking her full upper lip, and continued on with the 
pasta, asking her to pour the wine.  The food had been good, and 
after an initial awkwardness, their conversation had been light 
and easy, full of banter.  He had also made Scully laugh, twice.  
He loved to hear her laugh; full-bodied and warm, sending little 
darts of pleasure through his entire body.  

Despite the relaxed atmosphere, they had both been careful not to 
stray into dangerous territory, easing back into safer topics if 
the subject got more intense, or even remotely sexual in nature.

Through their years together, they had always played the game.  
He teased and made innuendos.  She ignored him and rolled her eyes, 
and on very rare occasions, even gave some back.  Yet there had 
always been an awareness between them, of each other.  Mostly 
masked, but sometimes seen or heard.  A sudden intake of breath, 
a flare of desire in one's eyes. 

There had been plenty of that during dinner, Mulder mused to 
himself.  He had watched her lips as she delicately sucked her 
pasta into her mouth, imagining her doing other things with her 
mouth, and had caught her staring at his mouth a few times as well.  
At one of those times, when she had realized he was watching her 
watching him, her cheeks had turned a charming shade of pink 
before she had huskily said that he had sauce on his face.  

He found himself wondering if Scully had ever fantasized about him.  
She loved him, he knew that, and she obviously desired him, but 
did she think about him the way he thought about her, or as much 
as he thought about her?  

He had always considered her to be very sensual, even though she 
hid it beneath business suits and a stern demeanor.  As well, he 
had caught glimpses of what she wore beneath those suits.  
Accidentally of course, he would swear it in a court of law.  

Could he help it if sometimes when she bent over, her blouses gaped 
and treated him to a tantalizing view of cleavage displayed in 
wonderful lingerie?  

Or that if he had once or twice, walked through their connecting 
hotel doors while she had been half-dressed?  He was a man; he could 
not help but look.  Or gawk, as the case may be.

And gawk he had.  And then filed the mental picture away for later 
retrieval late at night, alone in his dark, lonely apartment.

His mind wandered, sifting through some of those pictures, and with 
a shake of his head, Mulder tried to get back to his original 
topic.  It was a given that he fantasized about Scully.  

What red-blooded man wouldn't?  

From the top of her head to the tips of her toes...oh, he loved to 
look at her bare toes.  He especially loved when the nails were 
painted, in bright, sexy colors.  She was small, but curved in all 
the right places, with toned muscles and a fit body.  And to top it 
all off, she was so incredibly intelligent.  Some of her diatribes 
on their cases had turned him on so much; he had been forced to 
leave the room before embarrassing himself.  On occasion, even an 
accidental brushing of her breast or thigh, and even once her ass, 
had been enough to set things stirring.

Face it Mulder, you're a horn dog, he told himself.  He was also 
missing Scully, even though she was only a room away.  

Restlessly, he shifted around on the sofa, before finally rising to 
his feet and stretching.  She had been in the tub a long time.  He 
would just check on her, make sure she was okay.

He walked on his socked feet down the hall and stopped at the 
bathroom door.  Leaning in, he quietly said, "Scully?  You okay in 
there?"

There was a splashing sound, followed by a gasp, and worried, Mulder 
called out a little louder, "Scully?"  His hand rose of its own 
accord and grasped the doorknob.  Before he knew it, he had opened 
the door and was peeking around it.

He first saw her staring at him, her blue eyes wide, her lips 
slightly parted.  Peripherally he was aware that she was sitting up, 
and not completely covered by the bubbles.  

His eyes dropped, taking in the curve of her shoulder, her skin 
glowing in the candle light, before moving down further, to see her 
breasts, rising and falling rapidly.  

The appearance of one pink nipple, peaking out through a curtain of 
slowly disappearing bubbles, made his mouth go dry.

With a jolt, he pulled his eyes away from the entrancing beauty 
before him, looking at the wall across from the tub instead, and 
managed to get out, despite severely constricted lungs, "Sorry."

Scully did not berate him, or yell at him to get out.  Instead, 
she softly said, "It's okay, Mulder."  

He heard the water slosh slightly, and assumed she had lowered 
herself back into the tub.  She then continued, "I'm just about 
done."

In the hallway now, Mulder took a deep breath, willing the desire 
coursing through his veins to ease.  He was surprised his voice 
sounded so calm when he told her he would make some more tea and 
they could watch a movie.

Her soft agreement wafted out to him through the partially closed 
door, and he made his way to the kitchen.  It was familiar to him 
now, almost more so than his own barren apartment, and a comfort.  
He retrieved the necessary items easily, and made the tea.

Again it was Scully's scent that alerted him to her presence, and 
he looked up to see her standing in the doorway watching him.  He 
smiled at her and told her to go sit on the couch, that the tea was 
almost ready.  He watched her leave before resuming his task.

Moments later he was setting the tray on the coffee table, and 
moving around it to join her on the couch.  He felt a sense of 
deja vu, and remembered that the last time they had sat on the couch 
to have tea, they had ended up making out on her bed like a couple 
of teenagers.  The visual his eidetic memory pulled up, of Scully's 
flushed face and swollen lips, caused a tingle in his groin.

Scully leaned forward to reach for the teapot, and her thigh brushed 
against his, intensifying the tingle.  His next breath was slow and 
shaky, and Scully looked at him in concern, her hand holding the pot 
poised in mid-air, about to pour the tea into the second cup.   
"Mulder?" she asked.  "Is something wrong?"

Mulder huffed out a laugh.  Nothing that burying myself deep inside 
you wouldn't cure, he thought.  He couldn't say that to her yet, not 
wanting to make her uncomfortable, or feel like he was pressuring 
her. "No, everything's okay," he answered finally.

She had tilted her head to study him, her eyes a very dark blue, and 
after a long second, resumed her task.  She poured the tea into the 
cup and then fixed both, as they each liked it.  She handed his cup 
to him, and then sat back into the cushions, cradling her cup in her 
hands.

He watched her curiously.  She seemed nervous, on edge.  Was she 
disturbed at the fact that he had blundered in on her in the tub?  
"Scully, now it's my turn to ask you if something is wrong."

She kept her eyes on him as she took a sip of her tea, shook her 
head, and then leaned forward again to put her cup down on the 
tray.  "Mulder..." she started to say, and then paused, her brow 
creased.  With her next words, he got the sense she had changed 
what she had intended to say.  "Mulder, I love you."

As always, the words sent a warm feeling through his entire body.  
However, as much as he loved hearing them, this time he thought 
there was an unspoken 'but' on the end.  "And I love you," he 
responded.  

Each time he said it, the words came easier and the emotions it 
arose, felt more right.

She smiled, and he saw some of the tenseness leave her shoulders.  
"Mulder, I want to tell you about my dreams," she said then, and 
her voice was low, and a little husky.  With nerves, he suspected.

"Only if you're ready, Scully," he said softly, reaching one hand 
out to lie gently on her knee.  "Don't push yourself to do this if 
you don't think you're ready.  Not on my account."

It was her turn to laugh, a small, somewhat self-effacing sound, 
and then she shook her head again.  "This is for both of us, 
Mulder," she said, her tone wry.  

He watched as she took a slow, deep breath, saw her shoulders rise 
and fall with the deliberate motion, obviously meant to calm or 
ready herself.  "If you're sure," he returned.

She shot him a look filled with such longing and lust-tinged love 
that he almost forgot his resolve and dragged her into his arms.  
He was strong though, and held back, forcing himself to relax back 
into the cushions, give her some space.

She took another deep breath and then began.  "Elliot Andercott is 
in them, of course, but there are others too.  Duane Barry, Donnie 
Pfaster, so many from over the years.  At first I can't make sense 
of them, it's dark, and everything is fuzzy.  But I'm scared, so 
very scared, and I know I can't get away.  Then the pictures become 
clearer, and I am there, but at the same time I'm watching it from 
outside, if that makes any sense.  I try and warn myself, make 
myself run, but the other me can't hear.  I see them come for me, 
and sometimes I am so close to hiding or getting away, but they 
always find me.  They touch me, hurt me."  She paused, swallowing 
noisily, and looked down at her hand, which had reached out to grab 
onto his, lying on her knee.

"Sometimes I dream of being in the fire.  Elliot ties me to the cot, 
and I watch as he pours gasoline.  He leaves, and I lie there 
helpless, and then the smoke begins to fill the room," she 
continued, her voice husky.  She cleared it and then looked at him.  
"I have to tell you this, too.  When I was really there, not in my 
dreams, but really trapped in that hospital room, all I could think 
of was you.  I pictured you so clearly in my head, and thought about 
you.  And about all the things I have never told you.  I regretted 
it so much that I had never told you how I felt, that I loved you, 
and had for God knows how long.  I was so sorry that I had never 
taken the chance to say those words to you, to see if you might feel 
the same way."  

She stopped, smiling weakly at him, and his heart ached, thinking 
of her back in that room.  Thinking what if he hadn't found her in 
time?  

Scully started speaking again, and he blinked back the moisture in 
his eyes, brushing away the thought, for he had found her in time, 
she was here, safe, with him. 

"I think I became delirious.  I remember lying there on the floor, 
thinking of everyone I loved.  You, my mom, even Bill," this was 
said with a tiny smile, an attempt to lighten things, Mulder knew. 
"I saw Tara, and Matthew.  Even Skinner and the Gunmen."  

Mulder's eyes widened at that, and she smiled again.  "Even them, 
Mulder.  Don't tell Frohike, but he's kind of grown on me."

He let himself laugh, and joked, "Like a fungus?"

She laughed too, nodding.  "Like a fungus," she agreed.  Her face 
sobered quickly, and her head tilted to the side again, her eyes not 
quite meeting his, and he knew her next words were hard for her to 
say.  Her voice was quieter, almost a whisper when she finally spoke 
again.  "I saw my father, and Melissa.  And...Emily."  She sniffled, 
tears shining in her eyes, but kept going.  "She was holding Missy's 
hand, and smiling, and then she reached out her hand to me.  I tried 
to reach her, I remember that, and then everything went black."

"Oh, Scully," he said softly, and this time did not hesitate to 
move.  He shifted on the couch, and pulled her into his arms, 
rocking her gently, hearing her sniffles escalate to sobs.  "Oh, 
baby, I'm so sorry," he whispered, pressing a kiss into the top of 
her head, even now aware of its sweet smell.  

Her head was buried in his chest, and he felt her pull back slightly 
to let one hand wipe at her cheeks.  Her voice was rough and tear-
filled as she said, "Sometimes I dream that I was able to reach her 
hand, and I know that I have died, that you weren't able to reach me 
in time."

He had no words for that, could only hold her tighter, feeling his 
own eyes fill with tears.  He pictured Emily as he had last seen 
her, lying near death in a hospital bed, and then imagined her happy 
and at peace with Scully's sister.  

Finally her shudders had subsided, as had her tears.  She 
straightened, and he let his arms drop from around her so that she 
could look into his eyes.  Her mouth quivered as she saw that he 
too had been crying, crying silent tears, and she lifted her hand 
to wipe at them with a delicate touch.  "The dreams are mostly all
variations of that, me running and not being able to get away, or 
dying in that fire," she said, and then took a deep breath.  "I'm 
sorry I couldn't tell you sooner.  You must know that I have a 
very difficult time opening up and sharing how I feel.  I also 
hate knowing how they will make you feel."

Mulder cleared his throat and cupping his hand on her cheek, said, 
"Thank-you for telling me, Scully.  I know it was hard for you, 
and it hurt, but I needed to know.  Maybe telling me will help you 
get past them."

"I hope so," she whispered back, turning her head so that her lips 
could press a kiss into his palm.  She lifted her head, meeting his 
gaze dead on, and with a smile said, "Now I can tell you about my 
other dreams."

"Other dreams?" he asked, worried she was going to tell him more 
horrible nightmares, maybe something from her childhood that still 
haunted her.

It wasn't until she said her next words that he spied the glint in 
her eye.  "Uh-huh.  These are the good dreams, Mulder."

Her voice was low and sultry, and went straight to his groin.

"Bring it on, baby," he said.

***

end Part 15 of 29