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 28 of 29
by Lovesfox



Skinner's Office
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Monday
11:40 am


Skinner heard Mulder's voice out in the outer office, talking to 
Kimberley, and pushed the report he had been reading aside.  
Removing his glasses and laying them atop the file, he stood up and 
walked out to greet the agent, needing to get up and stretch a bit.

Mulder was surprisingly dressed in a suit and tie, and Skinner 
guessed the surprise must have shown on his face, for the agent 
shrugged his shoulders and gave him a wry, twisting grin.  "I went 
to give my statement," he explained.  "Had to give a good 
impression."

Skinner felt his lips quirk in response, not quite a smile.  "Come 
on in," he said, and headed back into his office.  

A moment later Mulder followed, and took his customary chair in 
front of the desk.  

Skinner sank back down into his leather chair, feeling the pull in 
his calf muscles as he used his legs to bring the chair close to the 
desk once more. Time to get back in the routine of going to the gym 
on a regular basis, something he had intended to do, and not yet 
gotten around to.  

"How's Scully doing?" he asked, both out of politeness and a genuine 
concern.  He had not yet been able to get back to the hospital to 
see her after his brief visit Saturday afternoon.  He had spent most 
of Sunday here in the office going over all the reports from the 
shooting at the warehouse, preparing everything for the meeting he 
had had with his superiors earlier in the morning.  He had also had 
dinner at Allison's apartment.

"Going stir crazy," was Mulder's humorous reply.  "She's been trying 
to convince the doctor to let her go home today, but he's sticking 
to his guns.  No earlier than 9 am tomorrow."

They shared a smile, for Scully's dislike for hospital stays was 
well known by the two of them, and then Skinner got back to 
business.  "Your statement went well?"

"Took a little longer than I expected, but yeah, it went fine," was 
Mulder's reply.  "I suppose I need to give one for the Bureau file?"

Skinner nodded, rubbing his hand over his chin.  "There will be a 
meeting with OPR as well, I just found out this morning it's 
scheduled for this Friday.  They want to hear Scully's report of the 
shooting as well."

Mulder frowned slightly, but said nothing, merely nodded his 
acceptance.  "How does it look?" he asked quietly.

"It definitely helps that both Agent Andrews and myself heard 
Andercott threaten to kill you.  It's also been pretty much agreed 
upon that he fired first, and though we did not hear the gunshot 
that injured you, we did hear the two shots that hit Agent Scully.  
I'm sure that Agent Scully's report will reflect that he did indeed 
fire that first shot.  All the ballistics tests validate your story, 
there were no shots fired from any other weapons than the one 
possessed by Andercott, and the weapon used by you to kill him, 
which as also witnessed by Andrews and myself, was after he had 
shot Scully and threatened to kill you."

Skinner stopped for a second, the fingers of one hand playing with 
the wire rim of his glasses lying on the blotter before him.  "As 
for the...excessive use of a firearm," and here he was referring to 
the fact that Mulder had emptied a clip into the man, and by the 
grimace on Mulder's face, he knew the agent was very aware of that, 
"I'm sure that it will be understood that it was a very explosive 
and dangerous situation.  You were in fear for your life and that 
of your partner's, and..."

"I wanted to kill him," Mulder stated baldly, his eyes like flint.  
His face was a wooden mask.

One that Skinner was fairly certain he could still easily read.

"And that was entirely off the record," Skinner added smoothly, 
dipping his chin slightly, his own eyes conveying a warning.  

Fortunately Mulder took it, and said no more. 

The admission had not surprised Skinner in the least.  He himself 
was glad the sick bastard was dead.  He was more thankful however 
that Mulder would not be censored in any way for having killed him. 

"Anyway," he continued.  "I think OPR will merely be a formality, 
although I am sure you'll be required to see Karen Kosseff, as will 
Agent Scully."  He tried to lighten the almost uncomfortable 
situation with a small smile and said, "Not exactly how we had 
planned to have Scully go back to her, was it?"

Mulder blinked, and then his features relaxed completely, regaining 
life and warmth.  "Not exactly, no sir," he replied, and smiled 
too.   He stood then, and said, "Well, I promised Scully I'd bring 
her something decent for lunch.  Hospital food, you know."

Skinner nodded in understanding and commiseration, and stood, hands 
going to his hips.  "Say hello to Scully for me, would you?  I'll 
try and drop by the hospital tonight to see her in person."

"I will, Sir," Mulder replied, and headed for the door.  

Skinner watched him go, and saw him slow at the door, and then stop 
completely.  

Mulder looked back over his shoulder and quietly said, "Thank-you, 
sir."

Skinner twisted his lips slightly and nodded once more, silently 
telling Mulder no thank-you was necessary.  Seconds later Mulder was 
gone from the doorway and he was listening to the agent say goodbye 
to Kimberley.  With a sigh of regret that he had not been able to 
show more of his personal thoughts about the entire situation to 
Mulder, Skinner re-took his seat and donned his glasses once more 
in preparation for battling his never-ending stack of reports.

***

Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, D.C.
Tuesday
10:15 am


Home at last.  Thank God Almighty, she was home at last.  

Scully giggled to herself at her painkiller induced parodic 
interpretation of the old Negro spiritual about their freedom from 
slavery and wobbled slightly as she waited for Mulder to finish 
turning the key in the lock.  She sobered quickly though, not 
having meant in any way to belittle the momentous struggle for 
emancipation, and shuffled through her now opened door into her 
apartment.  

Mulder was thankfully busy with her overnight bag and the largest of 
the flower arrangements she had received while in the hospital, the 
one that had arrived with a card that had read 'Love Frohike' in 
large letters, with the names Langly and Byers squeezed in messily 
beneath.  He hadn't caught her momentary lag in the hallway.

Scully carefully eased down onto her sofa with a contented sigh, 
hiding a grimace from the flare of pain that resulted when her 
injured arm hit the arrangement of pillows a little too hard.  

Mulder had quickly hastened after her, dropping the bag with a 
heavy thud, the flowers mysteriously gone as well, and was now 
hovering above her like...

There was a sharp inhalation of breath coming from near the kitchen, 
followed by her mother's voice. Mulder had not seen the grimace, but 
her mother apparently had.  "Dana, honey, why didn't you let Fox 
help you?  You don't have to do everything yourself."

...an anxious mother.

Just what she needed, two of them.  She loved them both, dearly, but 
combined they were sometimes overwhelming.  And she'd yet to be home 
five minutes. 

"I'm fine, Mom," she said without a hint of her exasperation and 
offered her a sincere smile.  She was fine; the twinge had been just 
that, a twinge, already forgotten.  Probably one of many she would 
have to endure while she healed.  After a second, her mother nodded 
and returned to the kitchen.  Scully yawned, and peering down at her 
feet, struggled to toe off her running shoes.  Before she had even 
thought of asking for assistance, Mulder was on his knees, pulling 
her feet onto his lap, his fingers quickly undoing her laces and 
then tugging each shoe off.  

He looked up and said, "Do you want to put your feet up on the 
couch?"  At her nod, he circled her ankles with his hands and swung 
her legs up and onto the couch, keeping his eyes on her face for any 
sign of distress.

But the half-dose of painkillers she had taken before leaving the 
hospital had her fully in grasp now, and she was floating nicely. 
She had also been admiring the play of muscles in his forearms as he 
had shifted her legs from the floor to the sofa.  She smiled a 
little muzzily at him, still on his knees beside her, and murmured, 
"Thanks."

"That's what I'm here for, Scully.  I'm at your beck and call, okay?"

A line from a movie, or maybe it was a book, she couldn't remember, 
flitted into her head and made her giggle again.  Definitely feeling 
the effects of the meds.  At his quirked eyebrow, she said, "I've 
never had a beck and call boy before, Mulder.  I think I like it."  
The words were breathy, from the sleepiness that was overtaking her,
but sounded sexy instead.

The look on his face was priceless.  Eyes wide as saucers, eyebrows 
up to his hairline, mouth open.  With that pouty lower lip just 
begging to be sucked.  Scully blinked her heavy eyes.  Had she 
discovered a new aphrodisiac?  She didn't remember feeling like 
this with all the other doses of painkillers.  So...horny.  True 
she had been getting far more sex over the last week than she'd had 
in months.  Okay, years.  Maybe she was just missing Mulder.  

Or she was getting her period.  Scully closed her eyes and tried 
to count backwards.  Her fogged brain made it difficult, but she 
managed.  Yep.  She was definitely due in a few days, and was 
experiencing one of the few quirky little benefits to ovulation, 
in her case anyway, which was an increased appetite for sexual 
satiation.  

Damn.  

Her arm was certainly going to make it tricky, if she could convince 
Mulder to go for it, that is.  He had been treating her like a 
hothouse flower ever since he helped her from the wheelchair into 
his car, and she had barely been able to talk him out of carrying 
her into her apartment, having had to use the excuse it would 
probably hurt more because of the jostling than if she walked 
herself.

At Mulder's loud exhalation, she opened her eyes again to see him 
still regarding her open-mouthed, and his eyes slightly dilated.  
The sight made her smile and murmur, "Cat got your tongue, Mulder?"

Whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by her mother, who 
came out of the kitchen baring the laden tea tray.  Mulder scrambled 
to his feet, kicking her running shoes out of the way, and came 
around the coffee table to take the tray from her and place it on 
the wooden surface.

Scully watched through half-closed eyes as her mother poured tea for 
the three of them.  She knew she was not going to stay awake long 
enough to drink it, but could not summon the energy to tell her 
mother not to bother with a cup for her.  

She closed her eyes for just a moment, and when she opened them 
again, she just knew hours had passed.  

The tea tray and its contents were gone, the shadows stretched 
farther across the floor, and there was no sign of Mulder or her 
mother.  She moved carefully on the sofa, trying to shift herself 
and relieve the ache in her back from lying in the same position 
ffor so long, and seconds later, heard Mulder approaching.

His hand stroked through her hair, and then he was kneeling on the 
floor once more, leaning over to press a kiss on her cheek.  "Hey, 
sleepyhead," he said.  "How are you feeling?"

"Mmmm..." she said, and took mental stock of her body.  The 
slightest of aches in her shoulder, but a tolerable ache, one she 
could handle.  The sling was going to have to go though.  It was 
chafing her neck. Her throat was dry, and her stomach was vaguely 
protesting its emptiness.  

"Good.  Thirsty.  Hungry."  She smiled at him, and remembered 
their earlier, brief conversation.  "I'm calling, boy."

Mulder was silent for a minute, before taking a deep breath and 
giving her that look, the one that said she had impressed him with 
her little comment.  His voice was just slightly husky when he 
playfully said, "Yes, mistress."  

His reply sent a pleasant tingle through her entire body.  Oh, now 
that was a fantasy she wouldn't mind carrying out.  Damn, there she 
went again.  She had better stop thinking about things like that, or 
she was going to hurt herself trying to jump him.

He gave her hair one last caress before rising and heading to the 
kitchen.  She watched him go, staring at his jean-clad butt.  She 
listened to the sounds of him in her kitchen, heard him opening and 
closing cupboards, and the whirring of her microwave, and slowly the 
savory aroma of her mother's chicken soup drifted out from the 
kitchen.  

Ah, heavenly.  There was nothing like mom comfort food.

She closed her eyes to await his return, and actually dozed for a 
bit, awakening to the sound of the tray being placed on the coffee 
table.   Mulder came around and asked, "Do you want to sit up a bit 
more?"

"Please," she said, and together they shifted her about on the 
pillows until she was half-sitting, half-reclining, her arm in its 
sling resting on a pillow draped across her stomach, and supported 
by the back of the couch behind her.  Scully used her other hand to 
quickly adjust the sling against her neck, her cool fingers 
momentarily soothing the irritated skin.  Mulder waited for her to 
move her arm back down and then lifted the tray from the table and 
put it carefully on her lap, sitting on the floor to help keep it 
steady.

Besides the bowl of soup, there was a glass of what looked like 
apple juice, a plate with some cheese and crackers, and one single 
yellow rose in a tiny vase.  "Oh," she said.  The man was a 
sweetheart, and a bit of a romantic it seemed.  "Thank-you, Mulder.  
That's so sweet."

"I do try," he said modestly, and smiled at her.  He then filched 
some of her cheese, and used it to indicate the soup.  "Your mom 
made that yesterday for us.  She left after her tea, and said she'd 
call you later on and see how you're feeling."  That said, he popped 
the cheese in his mouth and downed it, before asking,  "You mind if 
I flick on the TV?"  At her negative shake, he grabbed the converter 
and aimed it at the set, turning it on.  It was on the sports 
channel, and he was immediately engrossed in their sports update.

Scully watched him as she ate all her soup and most of the remaining 
cheese and crackers, and drank all her juice.  She loved seeing the 
myriad expressions that crossed his face, and hearing the occasional 
groans and comments he mumbled to himself as he learned the scores 
of various games that had been played in the last day.  She had 
missed this closeness, craved it actually, while she had been in the 
hospital.  

True Mulder had been there as much as he could, and had even snuck 
back the first night after visiting hours were over to stay longer, 
but it hadn't been the same.  She wished she had a free hand, so she 
could play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, just inches away 
from her, and sighed softly.

Not softly enough.  Mulder caught it, and turned his head quickly.  
"You okay, Scully?"

How to answer?  She went with the truth.  "I'm okay, Mulder.  Just 
wishing I could touch you."

He looked inordinately pleased as they stared into each other's eyes 
for a moment, and then smiling, he shifted his gaze to the tray.  
"Are you all finished?"  At her nod, he lifted it easily and 
carefully, shifting to put it on the coffee table again.  When that
was done, he scooted over on the floor until he was much closer to 
her.  

This allowed her to sift her fingers through his hair without 
straining, and she did so happily.

They sat that way for quite some time, with Mulder occasionally 
rolling his head so that her fingers touched more of his scalp, and 
whenever her nails happened to gently scratch at the skin of his 
neck, he would shiver or give a low groan.  But her hand grew tired, 
and she had a pressing need to use the facilities, so she 
regretfully stopped with a squeeze of the shoulder closest to her. 

"Mulder, can you help me up?  I need to go to the washroom."

At her words, he was up in a flash and helping her stand.  Once he 
was sure she was steady, he let go, and they headed down the hall, 
Scully conscious of his warm body close to hers, knowing he was 
ready to grab her in an instant if she faltered.  After she entered 
the bathroom, he stood in the doorway to ask, "Do you need me to 
help you?"

It was awkward doing things with one hand, but she had managed for 
the last day and a half while in the hospital.  And as much as she 
relished the fact that she was home with him again, this was 
something she really didn't need him to witness, or assist.  "I'll 
be okay, Mulder.  I'll call when I'm done, or if I need help."

"Okay," he replied.  "I'll wait in your bedroom."  With that, he 
pulled the door most of the way closed, leaving it cracked about an 
inch.

Scully did her business, managed to wash her one hand, and brush her 
hair into some semblance of order, all without irritating her 
shoulder, for which she was thankful.  She hoped to lengthen the 
time between the pain medication doses, because she did not want to 
sleep so much during the daytime, and it was easier to do that when 
the pain was minimal.  As long as she was careful and did not jostle 
it, she would be able to use the medication in moderation.

She pulled the door open and said Mulder's name softly.  His
footsteps sounded a second later, not coming from the bedroom, but 
rather from the direction of the living room.  

"Everything okay?" he asked, and at her nod, waited for her to pass 
him so he could follow her back to the couch.  "How do you want to 
sit?" he asked, and for some reason he seemed fidgety to her.

"Like I was when I was eating is fine," she replied, and with his 
help, eased herself back down onto the sofa and into her nest of 
pillows.  Instead of sitting on the floor, Mulder lifted her legs 
and carefully sat down, his hip just touching her upper thighs, and 
placed her lower legs over his lap.  

"This okay?" he asked.  "You're not uncomfortable, are you?"

She could feel the warmth of his hand on her calf through the 
material of her sweat pants, gently stroking up and down.  "It's 
just fine, Mulder."

He smiled, and they remained sitting and looking at each other for 
long moments.  

She saw him flick a glance to the pillow beside him, and then 
begin nibbling on his lip.  He didn't look uncomfortable, was in 
fact slouching in his normal couch potato position, but maybe he 
wanted the pillow for his neck, and didn't want to disturb her to 
get it. 

"What's wrong Mulder?" she asked.   "Is your neck sore or 
something?"

"Huh?" he asked, whipping his head back to look at her with 
puzzlement.

"You were staring at the pillow," she said each word distinctly, 
feeling like she was talking to her little nephew.   "Do you need 
it for your neck?"

"Uh..." he said, and flicked another glance towards the pillow in 
question, briefly gnawing on his lip again.

She was just about to say something when he seemed to reach a 
decision.  He looked at her almost shyly, and then leaned over 
and stuck his hand under the pillow.  What was he doing?

"Um, Scully..." he said.  "Do you remember me telling you I got 
you something the other day?"

Scully felt a nervous little flutter in the pit of her stomach.  
"Yes..." she answered slowly.  "And then you showed me my cross, 
which I thought I'd lost."

"Yeah," he said.  "Well...I wasn't talking about your cross.  I 
just got nervous and used it as an excuse.  I really did get you 
something."

He was acting really odd, hesitant and kind of hopeful.  

The nervous feeling intensified, and a slight hint of excitement 
began to war with it.  She didn't know if Mulder knew this or not, 
but she loved getting presents.  And each and every time he had 
gotten her one, even if it was a silly gag gift, she had been 
secretly and utterly thrilled.  She still had her Superstars of 
the Superbowls tape, despite the fact that Bill had tried to steal 
it a couple times, and had even watched it, because it had been 
from Mulder.

Mulder was fidgeting with whatever was under the pillow, still 
biting his lip and regarding her with those puppy dog eyes.  

Her eyes flicked from his face to the pillow and back again, and 
she found herself biting her own lip, in nervousness and 
anticipation.  

"Mulder..." she said after the heavy silence continued to grow, and 
cringed inwardly at the slight whiny sound to it.

At that, he finally pulled his hand out from underneath the pillow.  
Her eyes immediately went to his hands, and she had to suck in her 
breath when she regarded the small velvet box he now held.  Her 
heart started to pound.  

Was it...?  

Oh, God, they had never talked about marriage since they had 
become...lovers.  They hadn't even discussed what they were going 
to do about living arrangements after it was no longer necessary 
for him to stay with her because of Elliot Andercott.  

It was something she had been afraid to bring up, and with her 
just getting home from the hospital, they really hadn't discussed 
anything at all.  Like why he hadn't taken her as back-up when he 
had gotten the call...

Scully told herself to stop her mental babbling, she was going to 
start hyperventilating soon.  And it might not even be what she 
was thinking it was.  Oh, God, he wouldn't have, would he?

There she went again.  Stop it.

Fortunately Mulder spoke again, and saved her from herself.  And 
also surprised her with how much his words mirrored her thoughts. 
Though she told herself, she really shouldn't be surprised, they 
had almost always been on the same wavelength, for years.  With 
the occasional total misunderstanding, of course. 

"Scully...I know we've never really talked about...well, this thing 
between us.  Not seriously anyway."  He paused, and his swallow was 
noisy, a sure sign of his nervousness.  For some reason, it calmed 
her, and she began to breathe again.  "I love you, and I know you 
love me, and I wanted to get you something to show you how I felt.  
So that you would always have a reminder of it, and of me, 
especially if I wasn't there."  

He shifted his hips slightly then, so he was facing her better, and 
she watched as he held out the little box, with just the smallest 
of tremors.  "Not that I won't be here," he added hastily, 
swallowing noisily again.

Her own hand was shaky as she reached up to take it, and they both 
seemed to realize at the same time that she wouldn't be able to open 
it on her own.  With a sheepish smile, he leaned forward even more 
and put it into her palm, so that their fingers cradled it 
together.  He then brought his other hand up and lifted the lid. 
"It's a..."

Scully sucked in her breath at what was revealed.

And they both said it together, "Claddagh ring."

***

1:50 pm

Mulder had long ago cleaned up the remains of the tea and sandwiches 
Mrs. Scully had fixed for them, and even walked her down to her car 
as Scully had slumbered on.  Not wanting to disturb her with the 
television, he had headed to her room and tidied up there too.  
While she had been in the hospital, he hadn't been quite as diligent 
in cleaning up after himself, and thankfully she had fallen asleep 
and given him the opportunity to rectify the matter.

He had just finished putting away the contents of Scully's overnight 
bag, dumping the dirty clothes in the hamper and taking the 
toiletries back to their proper places in the bathroom, and was 
feeling a little restless.  

His gaze kept wandering over to his underwear drawer, the one that 
was currently housing the two velvet boxes he had yet to give 
Scully.  He was just about to go and take them out, to look at them 
yet again and see if they bolstered his courage any when he heard 
the slightest of sounds coming from the living room.  

Sounds that meant Scully was awake. He flicked a glance at her alarm 
clock on her night table, and saw that she had been sleeping for 
just over three hours.  The painkillers had certainly kicked in as 
she hadwarned them they would on the drive home from the hospital.

Feeling desperate to see her, despite the fact he had watched her 
sleep for a while, because now he would be able to talk to her and 
to touch her, he headed down the hall to be her 'beck and call boy', 
smiling faintly to himself at the term.  

Woo, had that one knocked him for a loop.  

Especially spoken in that husky, just about to fall asleep, totally 
bedroom voice he'd lately had the incredible pleasure of hearing on 
a pretty regular basis.

She was shifting about on the couch when he entered the living room, 
and he slid his hand over her hair before going to his knees to kiss 
her on the cheek and ask her how she was feeling.  The sleepy 
huskiness of her voice was endearing as she replied, until she said, 
"I'm calling, boy."

Then it became downright sexy.  

His pulse leapt.  

Oh, he was a sick man for wanting to jump her while she was injured, 
he thought to himself, after spending a delicious few seconds 
planning a way to keep her shoulder from harm's way while they did 
the wild thing on her couch. The thought didn't stop him from 
responding with a teasing, "Yes, mistress," after taking a deep 
breath to slow his heart rate.

Of course watching her eyes darken in response to his reply did 
incredible things to his ego, and the hungry beast behind his 
zipper.  

On that note, he decided it was time to remove himself to the safety 
of the kitchen.  He ran his fingers through her hair once more and 
went to fix her a late lunch.  

While the soup her mother had made warmed in the microwave, he 
readied the tray, plucking a yellow rose from one of the bouquets 
she had received, but not the one from dear brother Bill, that was 
just...not right, and putting it in a tiny bud vase he had 
discovered in the one of her cabinets while looking for a place 
to hide his Lucky Charms. 

Once everything was organized, he carried the tray over to the 
coffee table, seeing that she seemed to have dozed off again.  Her 
eyes opened though when he put the tray down, and together they got 
her arranged on the pillows and the tray on her lap.  He was pleased 
at her response to the rose, and after swiping a piece of the cheese 
he had cut up for her, told her that her mother would call later.  
He then asked if she minded if he watched TV, which she didn't, and 
settled in to catch up on some sports.

Even though he was engrossed in the program, he was very aware of 
her lying just behind him.  He was on the floor propped against the 
couch, and he knew if he tilted his head back, he would encounter 
her thigh.  

Her firm, smooth...Whoa!  Them be dangerous thoughts.  Think 
basketball instead, my man.

When Scully sighed, he turned to her in concern, and was relieved,
and buoyed beyond belief at her explanation about wishing she could 
touch him.  After confirming she was finished, he lifted the tray 
out of the way and then moved over a bit on the floor quickly and 
happily, nearly moaning at the feel of her hands in his hair.  

Mulder thought he might actually have been able to doze off, was 
not even sure how much time had passed, when Scully squeezed his 
shoulder and said she needed to go to the bathroom.  He helped her 
up from the couch, feeling relaxed and loose, and then stepped back 
to let her make her own way, staying close just in case, and 
followed her as she shuffled down the hallway.  

He wasn't sure if she needed his help in there or not, or even if 
she would accept it, for she was still very private about some 
things, and was not surprised or hurt when she declined his help 
with a gentle explanation.  He told her he'd wait in her bedroom, 
and found himself once again sitting on her bed and contemplating 
that same drawer.

Remembering the reaction the rose in the vase had gotten, and how 
good it had made him feel, he took a fortifying breath and got up 
from his perch to take the velvet boxes from their hiding spot and 
sneak them out to the living room.  

It didn't mean he had to give them to her right away, just that they 
would be closer if he decided to.  

In the living room, he turned in circles a few times, trying to find 
a spot to tuck them away, and hearing the water in the bathroom turn 
off, knew he didn't have much time.  He stuffed the two little boxes 
under the throw pillow at the opposite end of the couch from where 
Scully had been propped, and heard her call his name.

He hastened back down the hall, to where Scully was standing outside 
the bathroom, and asked her if everything was okay.  She gave an 
affirming nod, and started her slow, careful walk back to the 
couch.  He was again at her back, at the ready if she needed 
assistance.  

He could not help glancing at the pillow he had tucked the gifts 
under, but as he was behind Scully, she did not notice.  

Once they got her resettled on the couch, like she had been sitting 
to eat her lunch, he joined her on the couch instead of resuming 
his spot on the floor.  He scooted closer to her, his side bumping 
her thigh gently, and lifted her legs to lay them across his lap.  
He inquired as to whether she was okay, and that she was 
comfortable, and then began to rub her calf.

Scully said, "It's just fine, Mulder," and he could only stare at 
her and smile, wondering if he looked as goofy as he felt.  Or if 
his nervousness showed.  Worried he would blurt it out before he 
was prepared; he finally had to look away, unconsciously gnawing at 
his lip, his eyes flicking to the pillow that hid his secret and 
away again.

Her next words startled him. "What's wrong Mulder?" she asked.   
"Is your neck sore or something?"

"Huh?" he said.  Way to dazzle her with a brilliant Oxford graduate 
response, he told himself, and turned his head to look at her, 
seeing her blue eyes regarding him seriously.

"You were staring at the pillow," she replied, speaking slowly as if 
to a child.  He felt like one.  "Do you need it for your neck?"

"Uh..." he managed.  Jeez, where did all his intellect go?  It had 
been sucked right into the beauty of her eyes.  He had to look away 
from her, and ended up shooting another glance at the pillow while 
biting his lip yet again.

What the hell was he waiting for?  The perfect moment?  What exactly 
defined a perfect moment?  To him, a perfect moment was any time 
spent with Scully.  

Like now.

Mulder looked at Scully again, a tense, achy feeling low in his 
belly, and decided to bite the bullet.  Slanting his body to the 
side a bit, he stretched his arm out and groped under the pillow.  
The ring should be first, so he found the small, square box and 
grasped it tightly.

"Um, Scully..." he said,  "Do you remember me telling you I got you 
something the other day?"  He was surprised at how calm he sounded, 
amazed he had a voice at all.

Mulder could see curiosity and confusion in her eyes, and her reply 
about her cross was a little hesitant.  "Yeah," he continued, gaining
a little more confidence.  "Well...I wasn't talking about your 
cross.  I just got nervous and used it as an excuse.  I really did 
get you something."

Scully's eye widened, and he could see excitement warring with the 
confusion now.  There was a faint hint of color in her cheeks, and 
she seemed to be sitting up just a little bit straighter.  

He watched her eyes leave his face and look at the pillow, as if she 
were trying to sneak a peek at what might be under it, and then come 
back to his face.  He had a feeling that if she were not hampered by 
her injured shoulder, she'd be trying to climb over him and get at 
the pillow herself.  It made him smile, and the ache in his belly
disappeared, to be replaced with a feeling of serenity, or 
tranquility.  This was the right moment.

Wanting to enjoy it as much as possible, he decided to tease her a 
little.  So he played with the pillow some more, and gave her his 
puppy dog eyes, the ones he knew made her melt.  He sucked in his 
lower lip and saw her eyes flick down to watch the motion.  

She then bit her own lip, and after a few seconds, said his name in 
this pleading, kind of whining tone that almost made him want to 
smile.  

Instead, he brought his hand and the small velvet box out.  

Her breath was an audible gasp.

"Scully..." he said slowly, thinking of the words he wanted to say.  
"I know we've never really talked about...well, this thing between 
us.  Not seriously anyway."  

His mouth was suddenly dry, and he had to swallow, the sound loud in 
the quiet of the room.  He could even hear his own heartbeat, a 
steady thud in his ear.  

Okay, so he wasn't as calm as he had thought he was.  

It almost felt like he was proposing to her, which he supposed in 
his own, weird way, their way, he was.   They had never talked 
about commitment, and where their relationship was headed, or even 
what their living arrangements were going to be like after Elliot 
Andercott, and while he knew they weren't ready for marriage, and 
maybe never would be, he also knew he wanted her to know he was 
declaring himself to her, declaring himself hers.  

"I love you, and I know you love me, and I wanted to get you 
something to show you how I felt.  So that you would always have 
a reminder of it, and of me, especially if I wasn't there."  

Mulder turned his body carefully, so that he was facing her 
directly, and held the little velvet box, seeing that his hand 
was actually shaking slightly.  His last sentence registered, 
and its implication that he might not be there, and he hastened 
to add, "Not that I won't be here."  

Hoping she understood that he meant 'here' as anywhere she was.

Scully's hand shook as well when she lifted it to take the box, 
and just as it clicked in his slow-witted brain that there was 
no way she could open it one-handed, her lips quirked in a tiny 
acknowledgement of that fact.  

He smiled with chagrin and leaned closer to her to rest the box on 
the palm of her hand, keeping his fingers there in support, and 
because he craved the contact.  He used his other hand to open it, 
nerves striking again, and began to explain it to her, "It's a..."

She made that gasping sound again, and spoke the words with him. 
"Claddagh ring."

They smiled at each other, and Mulder watched as her eyes grew big 
and shiny.  "It's beautiful, Mulder.  So very beautiful."

"Like you," he whispered, and watched her cheeks bloom with color.  

Her hand moved within his, until he was the one holding the opened 
box, and then her index finger traced the air just above it lightly,
as if she were stroking the gold circlet.  

"Do you know the legend?" he asked, and his voice was husky.

Scully's was too when she replied, "Yes, but I want you to tell me 
it."

Mulder let his hand with the box lower until it was resting on her 
lap, and her hand came down to rest upon both his and the box.  She 
seemed torn between wanting to keep her eyes on his face, and on the 
ring.  

"Well, the lady at the jewelry store told me a little, but I went on 
the Internet to learn more."  He shifted his hand slightly, so that 
he could run his thumb over her knuckles.  "It was the name Claddagh 
that caught me in the first place.  I knew it was Irish, so I asked 
her what it meant, and she told me it was the name of a fishing 
village in Galway, Ireland.  She also said that it was used as a 
symbol for friendship, love and loyalty, and that there were many 
legends as to how it came about.  I was sold when she said those 
three words, Scully.  Friendship, love and loyalty.  For they 
symbolize everything that you are to me."  

"Oh, Mulder..." Scully sniffled, and her fingers were gripping his 
tightly now, the box lying on her lap.  "As you are to me."

He lifted his other hand, and stroked it softly down her cheek.  
Before he could move it away, she turned her head and kissed his 
palm.  

It sent a shiver of heat down his spine, and he had to clear his 
throat in order to speak again.  

"There was one legend I liked the best.  It's about a man from 
Claddagh who was kidnapped by slave traders just before he was to 
marry his sweetheart.  He designed it for her, with the crown 
signifying loyalty, the hands signifying the hands of 
friendship, and the heart signifying love.  When he finally was 
released from his slavery, he returned to Galway to learn his 
sweetheart had never married, and presented it to her."

"I like that one the best too," she whispered.  She tilted her head 
a little to the side and looked at him, her eyes luminous and the 
most incredible shade of blue, as if she were waiting for him to 
say more.  

When he didn't, she said a little hesitantly, "There's more to the 
legend though."

Of course there was, he had just gotten a little nervous again, 
even with her reaction and her avowal that he was also to her what 
those three words symbolized.  He cleared his throat before 
beginning again.  

"Yes, there is.  It's about how the ring is worn.  If worn on the 
right hand, with the crown facing outwards, it shows that the 
wearer's heart has not yet been won.  If worn on the right hand, 
with the crown facing inwards, it shows that love is being 
considered."  

He paused, the hand holding hers suddenly damp, and his heart 
thumping loudly, before finishing with, "If worn on the left hand, 
with the crown facing inwards, it means two loves have joined 
forever."

Scully's hand was trembling a little beneath his, but her voice 
sounded clear and strong when she said, "Take the ring out, Mulder."

His fingers felt huge and clumsy, but he managed to lift the small 
circle of gold from the little slot in the satin that lined the box, 
staring at it the whole time, afraid he would drop it.  Suddenly her 
hand was grasping his hand, the one that held the ring, and she was 
moving it to her other hand, her injured hand, holy shit, her LEFT 
hand, which was lying in the sling's hold against her midriff.

"Put the ring on."  No hesitation, no hitch.

He had to use his other hand to lift her hand gently, terrified he 
would hurt her, and brought the ring to the fourth finger of her 
left hand.  Here he stopped, until he heard her voice again, guiding 
him.

"Crown facing in, Mulder."

He pushed the ring onto her finger, easing it over her knuckle, and 
saw that it was a perfect fit.

She spoke again, and after the first word, he said the rest with her.

"Two loves have joined forever."

***

end Part 28 of 29