*~*~*~*~*~* Connected by Lovesfox *~*~*~*~*~* lovesfox@rogers.com Headers in Part 1 *** Part 7 of 12 Unknown Location Unknown Time The dull clang of the metal door closing made Scully flinch, which sent further discomfort through her body. Every muscle ached, like she had severely over-exerted herself, and her lungs were working double-time. It was a struggle to shake off the effects of the stun gun, and she had to fight the urge to just lay down on the cold floor and fade into temporary oblivion. But she had to confirm that Mulder was all right first. She had heard him groan, and knew he had been thrown into the room with her. Thankfully -- she had been afraid that they would be separated. Managing to twist her lower half, she sat down heavily and lifted her head, trying to breathe evenly and deeply. Mulder was lying prone on the floor, a mere foot away, legs and arms akimbo. His head was turned to one side, facing away from her, and he was breathing rapidly, each exhalation rough and loud. Before she could call to him, he slowly rose to his hands and knees, and then with a jerky motion, flipped himself over to sit on the floor, mirroring her pose. One shaky hand lifted and scrubbed over his face as he heaved out a groaning sigh. "Are you all right, Scully?" he asked, meeting her eyes at last. The weariness in his voice was echoed in the lines of stress on his forehead, bracketing his mouth. She knew it was also echoed on her features. "I'm okay," she answered simply. There was no need to elaborate -- he had been hit by the stun gun as well. "Yeah," was his agreeing reply. He sighed again, and then remarked, "It looks like we're up shit's creek, Scully." Aptly, if crudely, put. She nodded, and despite the fact he was as in the dark as she, asked, "Who the hell are these people, Mulder?" "Well, you know me, Scully," Mulder replied self-deprecatingly, his lips twisting briefly in a semblance of a mocking smile. "I'm guessing they are part of some Shadow Government agency that has been experimenting with mind-control and telepathy." His tone told her his statement was only half-jesting. But she had to admit the possibility seemed quite likely. Fear and anger and exhaustion getting the better of her, she quipped, somewhat sardonically, "Conspiracies-R-Us?" Mulder did not respond, and she sighed heavily. To soften that comment, she said, "I think you may be right, Mulder." "If I had the energy, Scully, I'd be marking this moment," he returned with little zest. His slow movement to look around the room was evidence of his discomfort and tiredness, mirroring her own. "As it is," he said next, "I think we should try and check out our accommodations." With that, he rose carefully to his feet, wavering just slightly. Scully nodded and followed suit, willing the trembling in her legs to subside, and turned in a slow circle. Her eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the roughly 12x14 room, but there was very little to see. Four bare walls, bare floor, and a cot. One cot. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mulder raise one hand to his face and rub his chin as he regarded what was apparently their bed for the duration of their stay. He was either deliberately blocking his thoughts, or his mind was as scrambled as hers felt, for she read nothing from him. Not even a single flirtatious or sarcastic comment. "Well," she started, and then fell silent again. What could she say? "Well," Mulder parroted her. His gaze flicked to her and back to the cot, and then his shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Flip you for the good side!" he called with mock-cheer. She couldn't help snickering, gesturing at the single-sized cot which was shoved up against one wall. "There is no good side, Mulder," she pointed out. "Scully, you see the glass as half-empty, don't you?" He shot her a grin as he neared the cot, nudging it with one leg. The metal frame groaned in protest, but held steady. "Come on, you take the inside." Eying him askance, Scully wondered if his offer was one of chivalry, or out of his need to protect her -- a trait that was sometimes charmingly endearing, but more often misplaced. He said her name again, eyebrow crooked questioningly, and she finally responded. "Are you being a manly man again, Mulder? Protecting the little woman?" <> "Mulder!" she admonished out loud, not really angry. Amused and just slightly titillated, maybe. "Watch your thoughts," she continued. Right after the words left her mouth, she got this strange feeling that they both should be very careful with what they said. She realized chances were good that they were under audio and video surveillance, and had been since they had arrived. The look on Mulder's face, and his cautious eye scan of the ceiling told her he felt the same way. His next thought was a warning, with a hint of teasing. <> She nodded her understanding, and approached the cot with a hint of trepidation. They'd crashed in motel beds together on a few occasions, she had dozed off on his shoulder on countless flights and stakeouts, they'd slept on each other's couches. But they had never had to share such a confined sleeping space before. It would be very...intimate. "Scully?" he queried softly. The way he said it was full of understanding. She looked at him and he started, "I can sleep--" Mulder was offering to sleep on the floor, Scully knew, and was touched, deeply. Not to mention a little ashamed of her hesitation. Her swift head shake halted the rest of his sentence, and he jerked his own head in a brief nod of acquiescence. She turned back to the cot and was about to climb on it when it came to her that logically and logistically, it was better both space and comfort-wise for Mulder to be on the inside, facing forward, with her spooned into him. This position would also give them two pairs of eyes to look outward and watch the door. "Mulder," she said low-voiced, and proceeded to outline her idea about their sleeping arrangements. A few minutes later, they were lying on the thin, lumpy mattress, with Mulder's back against the wall, and her back to his chest. Their knees were bent, his legs snugly aligned along hers, and his outer arm lay chastely over her waist. Her head was pillowed on her bent right arm, while her left hand was curled under her chin. Scully could feel the tension in Mulder's body, and recognized that he was 'on guard'. A very good cautionary idea, with the unknown variables of their kidnapping. "Mulder," she whispered. "We'll share watch, okay?" "Get some sleep, Scully," was his reply, the exhalation with each word ruffling the hair by her ear. "I've got your back." Her lips twitched -- he certainly did have her back. Sighing, she closed her eyes and wiggled to get more comfortable. Unintentionally pushing her rear end into him. Mulder grunted softly and shifted, the arm on her flexing and moving back, his fingers pressing into her stomach for a brief moment. He then murmured, "Easy there, Scully." "Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed, feeling the heat blossom in her cheeks. Her skin tingled where his hand had touched her, even with the barrier of the blouse she wore. "S'okay," he whispered. "Relax." His arm moved back over her waist, and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He seemed to be taking his own advice, his body no longer tense. "Go to sleep," he repeated his earlier instruction. "I'll wake you in a couple hours." Letting her eyes slip closed again, she listened to the sound of his breathing, deep and even. Matched the rhythm with her own breaths, eventually dozing off. Which was why she did not react some time later when he shifted against her, his groin pushing into her rear. <> Even on the hazy edge of full sleep, Mulder's thought registered, and her eyes popped open once more, a new wave of heat washing her cheeks -- this time of both embarrassment and pleasure at the content. More alert now, she couldn't help wondering if he had sent the thought to her deliberately, or if it had been a stray one in reaction to the contact between their bodies. Mulder did not move again, nor did he say or think another word, and she told herself to let it go, to get some much needed sleep. She also tried not to think about the fact that it did indeed feel nice. *** Mulder jolted out of the light doze he had not intended to fall into, his eyes snapping open in surprise and guilt. He held himself still, his breathing slightly accelerated from the abruptness of his waking, and concentrated. Heard and felt nothing but the soft breathing of his partner, and the warmth of her body pressed against his. Wondered if it had been merely his subconscious at work, pulling him from his sleep to get him back on track. Wide awake now, he carefully extricated his arm from beneath Scully's -- in her sleep she had been clutching his hand to her chest -- and rolled slightly away from her to bring his other arm down from its position as his makeshift pillow. Scully sighed and made an undecipherable sound, but did not wake. Depressing the Indiglo button on his Timex, Mulder saw that it was just after three a.m. They had been grabbed almost four hours ago, and other than the stun gun assault before they had been thrust into their present quarters, there had been no further contact with anyone. And as far as he knew, no one had checked on them either. Unconsciously, his eyes lifted and he peered up at the ceiling, despite the darkness. Searching in vain for the surveillance cameras he was positive were there. Scully shifted again, and he realized he had come up on one elbow, the mattress moving with his weight. "Mulder?" she murmured, turning her head towards him. Her voice was thick and raspy with sleep. "Whaz'wrong?" she asked next, slurring the words slightly. The sleepy, unintentionally sexy sound drew his attention -- though her voice in all its connotations always had, really. He briefly reflected on how effectively that voice could challenge him, calm and soothe him. And at the other end of the spectrum, how it could turn him on. Like it had just then. He willed the thought away, this was not the time or place. "Nothing's wrong, Scully," Mulder finally whispered, watching her fight to lift her eyelids. "Go back to sleep." Without thinking, he brought his hand to her brow, where a lock of her hair lay partially over one eye. He brushed the curl gently aside, and when she did not protest, combed his fingers through the tangled strands over her ear. <> The faint, hazy thought and its unintentional message made him smile, and he couldn't resist the urge to glide his fingers over her hair again. "Sleep," he repeated, hand lingering. Her head moved against his palm in a tiny nod of agreement as she sighed, and moments later her breathing became deep and even. It was very tempting to lay back down, to curl his body around hers and fall back into sleep, but he had sworn to himself earlier that he would stay on guard. And he had already shirked his duty once, albeit unintentionally. Not to mention that doing so could lead to being lulled into acting on those thoughts that had been spurred by the sound of her voice. So instead, he carefully and regretfully levered himself over Scully and off of the cot, straightening slowly -- his muscles were cramped, curled around his partner as he had been. After shaking out both legs, he bent at the waist to touch his toes, then did a few other body stretches. At home or in one of the many motels he and Scully stayed at while on cases, he would have gone for a run. Finding it necessary to move, he walked with quiet, cautious steps over to the door that kept them in their prison. It was cool to the touch as he rested his palms flat on the metal surface and leaned in, pressing his ear against it. He hadn't really expected to hear anything, and thus wasn't disappointed when that was the case. Straightening, he tapped his knuckles on the door gently. It felt solid. Thick. He stepped back a bit and eyed the entire door and its frame. Seamless and clean. Leaving him with the impression that apart from their kidnappers opening the door, they would need to blast their way through to get out. In other words, he and Scully were not leaving their cell unless someone wanted them to leave it. Frustration and anger, not to mention a healthy dose of curiosity, had him close to banging his fists on the metal door. Both as an outlet for those emotions, and as a test. If it had been only him in this dilemma, he probably would have risked the possible consequences of such an action. But he would not willfully and purposely put Scully at risk. As if he had spoken her name aloud, or perhaps thought-spoke it, his partner awoke, calling out to him aloud. "Mulder?" she said in that same sleep-husky voice. "Is something wrong?" Rustling sounds followed her query, telling him that Scully had shifted on the cot, and when he took the few scant steps back to her, he made out that she was now sitting up. Hesitating just briefly, he sat down, leaving a foot of space between their bodies. Even in the dark he was able to discern her next movement -- her arm lifting to smooth a hand over tousled hair. "Mulder?" she repeated then, her voice clearer. More awake, more alert. Concerned. "Did you hear something? Was someone here?" "I don't know," he replied honestly, feeling her gaze upon him. Shrugging despite the fact she might not be able to see the motion, he explained. "I fell asleep by mistake, and snapped awake a few minutes ago. I'm not sure if something woke me up, or I woke on my own." Scully was silent for a long moment, and he waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. She was rubbing her hands up and down her arms rather roughly, and just as he realized she was trying to warm herself, she sent a thought. Though he did not think she had sent it deliberately. <> Now that he thought about it, the cell was distinctly less then room temperature. There were no blankets, and both of them were wearing only suits with a thin layer beneath. Another brief hesitation on his part, and then he was sliding over until his thigh touched hers, raising his arm to wrap around her shoulders. She startled, but quickly relaxed into his embrace, shivering just slightly. "Thanks," she murmured. He mind-sent a teasing reply even as he replied aloud, "You're welcome, Scully." <> Her elbow nudged him smartly in the ribs. But she did chuff out a laugh as well. She also sent a thought, but once again Mulder had the impression that she had not meant to do so, as it cut off abruptly and she then stiffened against him. <> His mind immediately traveled in several directions to try and complete her sentence, while his mouth blundered on ahead. "Wonder what, Scully?" he asked aloud. She tensed further beneath his arm, and when she replied, her voice was strangled. "Nothing, Mulder." He plowed forward despite the obvious warning that she wanted him to drop the matter. "But, Scully--" <> The thought came through loud and clear. Subsiding, though his mind continued to spin through the possibilities, he gave her shoulders a slight squeeze of apology. It took Scully a few minutes, but she gradually relaxed, and even leaned into him more. Somehow though, he sensed she was now on guard. He got this sudden image in his mind of her slamming the vault doors closed on her conscious thoughts so that she would not broadcast anything at all, and he was saddened by it. Hearing those unvoiced thoughts of hers, whether deliberately or unintentionally sent, was a heady, powerfully intimate experience that he enjoyed. But at the same time, he did not want their partnership jeopardized because of their ability to read each other's minds. The silence that followed was not entirely comfortable. Eventually he felt he had to break it, and brought up something he had been considering. Forgetting about the possible audio surveillance, he spoke aloud. "Have you noticed at all that when we're in close proximity to each other--" Again Scully interrupted him, this time by raising her hand to clasp it over his mouth. The action startled him, though he contained the instinctive reaction to pull away. Awareness clicked in, and he nodded his understanding at the reminder that they had to be careful with what they said. Her hand slid away, and he felt momentarily bereft -- the touch of her palm on his lips had been pleasant...definitely pleasant, and in a way, comforting. With vocal communication out of the question, he sent his words mentally. <> Her reply came back a long moment later, as if she had been weighing the evidence carefully before making a decision. An occasionally frustrating facet of her character. <> Unfortunately, that was a very valid point. There were tests that might have given credence to his conjecture -- tests that were to have been scheduled by Byers with the Gunmen's 'associates'. Tests that were not going to happen now. A faint hope stirred anew at the thought of the Gunmen -- that he and Scully's kidnapping had been caught on camera by the three, and a rescue plan was already in effect. Pushing the hope aside for now, he replied to Scully. <> Her response came after another lengthy pause. <> It was hard to feel victorious while sitting there in the dark with the unknown before them. So he said nothing further. Nor did Scully, for some time. When she did, her mind-voice nudged him out of the blank state he had fallen into. <> <> <> A subject they had not yet discussed, though it had never been far from his mind. Hers as well, he imagined. His thoughts on the matter were leaning heavily on the negative side. It seemed hers were too, for the fear and apprehension had rung through in her mind-question. He chose his words carefully. <> He felt a fine tremor run through her, and pulled her tighter into his side, rubbing his hand up and down her arm in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. After a moment, Scully shifted slightly and lay her cheek on his chest, her own arm coming up to wrap around his middle. Seeking and providing comfort. Minutes passed with no further conversation, and Mulder found himself recalling the events of the day once again. The fact that the Commandos had dumped them after the grab from Kushov's lab still confounded him. Why let them go only to take them again later? Scully mind-spoke then, and he marveled at how her thoughts paralleled his own. <> Before he could reply, she continued on, coming to the same conclusion that had just then occurred to him. <> <> She didn't respond except to rub her cheek against him a moment, and he let the conversation end. They passed the remainder of the night in silence, seated together on the cot, neither willing to leave the other. Waiting. *** End Part 7 of 12