*^*^
Epilogue Part 1
Burlington Police Station
September 26
Late Evening

Bars. There really *were* bars. Meant to keep her in or maybe to 
keep others out. She paced like the caged criminal some believed 
her to be. But she knew otherwise. And she'd only be here a short 
time, they'd told her. Until the morning when they moved her to the
County Regional Corrections Facility. She was probably lucky they 
hadn't taken her there directly. She knew a little about how things
worked and knew clearly that the cell she was in now was considered
for processing only.

But she shouldn't be in any cell. A terrible mistake done unto her 
by the very last person she would have expected. But it wasn't his 
fault. Diana knew that it was the bitch who pushed him to do what 
he did. Besides, she rationalized, Fox hadn't actually cuffed her.

Fingers grasping the black iron bars, she pressed her face to the 
square opening, her eyes darting from side-to-side before she 
called out, "Hello? I know you're there. I want to call Fox." 

Her voice rang out and was met with dead silence. 

She had to talk to Fox. If she just had the opportunity, she knew 
he would see the error of his ways. Knew he'd understand why his 
path had always lain with hers. Just as she knew he'd understand 
what had motivated her.

She knew she was sure she should be allowed one call, but couldn't 
remember if she'd already made it. She could picture the payphone 
in the cinderblock hallway, thought she could hear the officer 
explaining that he'd enter a code into the keypad in place of the 
required fifty cents. But who did she call? Fox was still in the 
processing area when she was in the hallway, so it couldn't have 
been him.

It was all so cloudy. Too many things to remember and she wasn't 
sure which actually took place and which she might have only 
thought about.

She ran her hands over her hips, trying to rid herself of the 
feeling that she was dirty. The drab green baggy jumpsuit wasn't 
nearly long enough for her torso and where it was much too roomy 
in its width, it pulled between her shoulders and her thighs. 
She wanted her regular clothing back. At least they had let her 
keep her bra and panties. Besides, what could she possibly have 
concealed in her silk undergarments?

The fashion issue aside, she knew that everything was spinning 
out of control. 

She was bound by others' rules, others' laws and they'd judged her 
harshly. Much too harshly. Diana Fowley did not like to submit to 
the judgment of others.

And jail was a place for those judged to be real criminals.

What had she done, anyway? Oh, she'd heard their charges for her 
alleged transgressions. The entire litany. She'd stopped paying 
complete attention after the gruff woman officer had stated 
'abduction', 'unlawful restraint' and 'illicit substances...' It 
was a joke -- or it had to be. Why couldn't they see what she was 
really doing?

Her work with Aja Sonjah was nothing short of a scientific 
breakthrough. She idly wondered where the woman was at this point. 
They'd been originally processed in the same room, but when Diana 
had been led to solitary confinement, Aja had been spirited away 
to an unknown area. 

Recruiting the scientist to help her continue the misguided 
experiments from last spring and summer was a brilliant coup. The 
fact that her most recent testing had been scrubbed was a disaster. 
It would have proven what the chemical could really do. It was 
Noble Prize material. And her name would have been penned as the 
author. He would have noticed that. He always knew how smart she 
was and had always commended her.

Before Dana 'The Bitch' Scully had taken over in the X-Files.

Diana still had plans for to remove Scully from Fox's life, but 
they would have to be put on hold temporarily. It wouldn't be long, 
though; she knew she'd be getting out as soon as they figured out 
that Fox had been mistaken.

It didn't matter that they'd told her she was being held for 
extradition. They thought they were going to fly her to D.C. From 
her years of experience, this made no sense. Her supposed crimes 
had been committed her in Vermont and she was no longer an Agent 
of the Bureau. 

"Someone! Hello?  I need to speak to my attorney." Raking one hand 
through her hair, Diana stalked the length and width of her 
confinement. She heard the distinctive sound of heels on the 
linoleum; someone was listening to her pleas and would right this 
situation now.

Yanking at her jumpsuit, ineffectually attempting to make herself 
more presentable, she first jammed her hands into the pockets at 
her hips. Worried that it might make her appear too casual, she 
dropped her arms to her sides. Still not satisfied that she was 
conveying the confidence she felt, she crossed her arms in front 
of her, standing tall.

She called out, "In here. I need to talk to someone. Now," trying 
hard to convey professional concern overriding demanding and 
impatient need. 

It wasn't working. She'd suffered enough indignities at the hands 
of those that failed to see the merit of her work; failed to see 
what she was offering humankind. Well, if she had to be totally 
honest about it, she *was* considering using her newly-gained 
information for others, but those others might not appreciate her 
efforts as fully as she did.

There had been a much wider circle with whom she was going to 
share. At one time, it had seemed that more of her past associates 
had expressed interest in working with her, but somewhere along 
the way, their interest had not only become self-serving, but 
downright territorial, leaving her to fall by the wayside.  Alex 
Krycek had been her biggest disappointment. In him, she'd thought 
she'd found a kindred spirit; someone to who this research meant 
everything. But, in the end, he too tried to deal her out of the 
project. Oh, he'd probably claim to have aided her in the end, but 
she knew that for the smokescreen it was. He'd only come through in 
the end to save his sorry soul.

The others who had put stock in her talents and skills and then 
later dropped her faster than a hot potato, were too numerous to 
count. The only one who really mattered through it all; who still 
mattered now -- even with his current behavior -- was Fox. She 
needed him as much as he needed her.

She acknowledged that it might be a bit difficult from her current 
position and location to explain that to him, but she'd overcome 
stiffer obstacles. She'd returned from the dead -- more than once. 
Like the Phoenix, she would rise from whatever ashes were created 
for her.

In  her brief reverie, she'd lost track of the sounds indicating 
someone was coming closer to her cellblock. Approaching the bars, 
she tried to see once again into the dimly lit area.  "Who's 
there?" Her voice louder, although with a hint of suspicion.

No answer. 

Angry now, tamping down the trepidation, she spoke louder still, 
her tone now demanding. As it usually became when she was 
frustrated or uncertain. "Damn it! Is someone going to come in 
here and answer my questions or do I have to call for my attorney?" 
She knew the ultimatum was hollow. Her options were severely 
limited from inside the locked holding space.

She blinked in confusion as the room was pitched into total 
blackness. Quickly retreating from the steel barrier, she backed up 
to her bunk, plopping down onto it hard when it hit the backs of 
her calves.

The jangling she heard set her on edge. She didn't recall the 
jailer or anyone else ever approaching the cells in the dark. It 
was late however. Maybe she'd forgotten about the curfew...the 
curfew she was sure no one had mentioned when she was processed.

The footsteps were soft, but sure in their approach. She was sure 
they belonged to a man; no woman wore shoes that sounded like the 
fall of those heels. And they were coming closer.

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she let it 
out in a hopefully-controlled 'whoosh', her arms wrapped around 
her waist tightly.

Then things happened with a rapid proficiency she would have 
admired had they not been aimed her way.

The key scraped and scratched at the iron entry point.

The hinges squeaked as the door swung open.

Diana Fowley's eyes opened wide at the sound of his voice. And 
the glint of well-groomed, silvery-gray, hair in the wavering 
beam of a small penlight. 

The smell of the very expensive cologne made her head swim as it 
brought recognition. Her last memory was the name her lips tried 
to form.

Right before it all went black.  


^*^*^
Epilogue Part 2

Somewhere in the Waters Between New York State and Vermont
Approximately One Hour Later

When all the pieces fell neatly into place, he was a supremely 
happy man. Even with small setbacks.  Today was just such a day. 
Yes, it was true that his operation had to move underground 
temporarily; it wasn't the first time and, given the current state 
of law enforcement in this country, it wouldn't be the last. Hardly.

But Proteus was a practical man. A fighter. A survivor. Very much 
like the Greek sea god who could change his shape at will...

And in his possession, the Roman Goddess of Wild Things, Diana 
Fowley. Indeed. Her wildness had been part of her early attraction. 
Proteus sought unique people to adorn his organization.

She had certainly been a very sharp adornment early on. He was 
fascinated by some of the same qualities he claimed as his own. She 
had died and been reborn in the face of overwhelming adversity. She 
had such promise and such strength.

And then, as often happened with those of vain spirit, she had 
succumbed to her own quest for power. More power than was rightly 
hers. Within his organization. It wouldn't work. He wasn't ready to 
make room for a cheap imitation, a pale competitor. 

He'd done some research, trying to anticipate her final moves, her 
original motives and discovered that she was being ruled by base 
instincts, by her need to possess that which did not belong to her. 
Proteus could not abide by those who wanted more than their fare 
share; especially when what they greedily sought was another human. 
He had his rules and where relationships were concerned, he drew 
the line.

Plain and simple, Diana Fowley had become a liability. She'd been 
fairly warned on several occasions, but still she'd pushed for 
more. And more.

But, in the end, Proteus aimed to mete out his punishments with an 
even hand. Cliched though it was, those that lived by the sword, 
died by the sword. He thought it quite fitting to allow Diana the 
ultimate opportunity. The opportunity to experience something very 
few ever had and possibly ever would.

In the end, Proteus allowed Diana Fowley the ultimate opportunity 
to reap the benefits of the newly-synthesized Jump.  His only 
regret was that he would have no empirical research upon which to 
stake his meteoric rise to fame.

However, he was also a man of realism. Now might not be his time. 
But there would always be 'later'. Now that his path was clear.  


^*^*^
Epilogue Part 3
Burlington Police Department
Same Day

Kimberley made sure the blinds had been drawn on the one-way mirror 
window before she dragged another chair to the small conference 
table. She was participant number five in this party of assorted 
law enforcement officials.

Sitting directly across from her at the opposite end of the table 
was Chief Alanna Ennis from the Burlington Police Department. To 
the Chief's right was Assistant Director Skinner from the D.C. 
Bureau, with Special Agent Dana Scully to his right. Across from 
Scully, his fingers alternately tapping the table and his pencil 
was Special Agent Fox Mulder, Scully's partner. 

Glancing and nodding in his direction, Kimberley silently signaled 
the A.D. to begin.

Establishing brief eye contact with each person, he then began 
without preamble. "I know you two haven't had much time to piece 
together all of the facts surrounding Agent Mulder's undercover 
assignment and any possible connections to Agent Scully's work with 
the unapproved substance, but we'd all like you to lay out whatever 
it is we do know. I know I don't have to tell you time is of the 
essence." Walter Skinner leaned forward, his hands clasped 
together, his expression earnest as he first turned toward Scully 
and then focused on Mulder across from the redhead.

Kimberley noted the different manner in which the two Agents 
displayed their readiness; Mulder appearing much more at visible 
ease at being asked to report, Scully in full professional mode. 
Professional with battle scars; her suit jacket sleeves barely 
covering the angry red burns from the wrist taping and the 
purple-scarlet splotches on her face. Mulder's 
none-too-surreptitious glances at her were the only indication 
of his fresh concern for her.

Mulder began with what sounded like a casting call of potential 
drug traffickers. "You have my notes on the man known as 'Proteus'. 
A well-established business man in the greater Burlington 
community. Banking, primarily. From other outside sources, I was 
also able to trace him to a series of banks throughout New 
England and as far south as the D.C./Virginia area. His hold to 
the north had so far been restricted to upper New York State."

At that point, Kimberley injected. "Based on Agent Mulder's 
information, I sent a query through my home office and learned that 
while there have been some tentative attempts into our banking 
system, he has yet to secure any footholds. That notwithstanding, 
there has been a marked increase in the trafficking of illicit 
substances across the border around the Vermont/Canadian border. 
The sites noting the most activity are Plage Desranleau and  
slightly to the west, Fadden Corner and then farther north at 
Domaine-Omer-Alix.  Lake Champlain nicely facilitated their 
transportation."

"Plage Desranleau is directly north of where our exchange took 
place outside of St. Albans," Mulder interjected, one more piece 
of the puzzle falling into place. One more link in the U.S. to 
Canada drug transport chain.

Skinner had been taking notes even though the meeting was being 
recorded. Kimberley knew understood the urge; she had just lifted 
her pen from the page. Noting more and more unanswered questions.

Pausing only to flip over the lined paper, Skinner muttered, 
"Continue, Agent."

"There seem to be several business connections fueling the trade. 
One of my associates brought to light a suspicious person in the 
D.C. law enforcement community, a Ben Stillman. You know I 
contacted him, Sir, at the 34th Precinct. It turns out that Ben's 
brother, Brantwell 'Bishop', is part of the Burlington scene. But, 
there's more."

Kimberley watched the wordless exchange between Mulder and his 
partner; the handing off of the baton, so to speak, as she took up 
where he left off. "It appears that Proteus is able to recruit 
through the penal system. Several of his 'team' form an inner 
network all along the drug corridor. His other major contributor 
seems to be a Jason Stenhauser of Stenhauser Construction. A 
legitimate enterprise.  All reports showed the money clean and 
unlaundered, although Mr. Stenhauser has been seen with Proteus 
on several occasions."  

A collective silence settled over the conference room as each 
person was left to her/his own thoughts. Chief Ennis crossed her 
arms in front of her, her brows furrowed. "I can provide really 
little else other than to confirm that the Construction Company has 
operated within city ordinances. The work they've done in Essex 
Junction has been exemplary and they've made a name for themselves 
with the residential community there. However," she paused, one 
index finger at her lips and then continued in a measured rush," 
Bishop Stillman is well-placed in the Merchants Bank group. They've 
been around since 1846; a very old, well-established financial 
institution. I'd say this Proteus probably has quite the 
bankroll..."

The pace of the information flow had picked up considerably, but 
the A.D. stopped writing long enough to scrub one large hand across 
his jaw. Kimberley could tell he was taking in the scope of this 
case -- and just how much they'd yet to uncover. And might not 
uncover.

"What else do we have on the key players? And how does this tie in 
to Agent Scully's investigation and research?" His questions hung 
in the air for a few moments as both Mulder and Scully collected 
their thoughts.

Mulder took it from there. "Well, the 'key players' list is rather 
long, but those closest to Proteus include one Jemel Cummings, 
probably best described as the man's right hand and Ernesto Xavier 
Zale. I would say that locating either of these two would go a long 
way to bringing down Proteus." Mulder's mouth opened and then 
closed as he shook his head.

Scully's brow lifted in question and she tipped her chin for him to 
continue. "Mulder?"

"Well, I'm sure Chief Ennis can tell you that her force and the 
Albany Field Office Agents have already obtained a search warrant 
for the premises over on Cherry Street. The apartment complex is up 
to occupancy and, not surprisingly, apartment 16, where I first met 
with Zale and his partner, is leased by a local couple and their 
elderly mother." 

Kimberley noted the resignation on his face. She'd had similar luck 
running information through the Canadian Ontario Provincial Police 
Information Netbase.

The collective sighs and end-of-the case frustrations and relief 
settled over the group converged around the rectangular table. And 
then Skinner leaned forward once again. "Before I let you two go 
and finish your written reports for the final debriefing," he 
nodded to Scully next to him and to Mulder across the table, "I 
have one final question. When has Ms. Fowley's transport back to 
D.C. been set for?"

Before anyone could respond, the door to the room crashed open and 
a rather harried and embarrassed young Deputy barged in, blurting 
apologies. "Uh, Chief, there seems to be a small problem. I think 
you need to come quick."

All stood as Alanna Ennis rushed to the door. Taking her officer by 
the elbow, she asked him to state the problem.

The reactions of those assembled varied, but all were in some 
manner disturbed by the news that Diana Fowley was no longer in her 
cell, the barred door still locked.   


^*^*^
Epilogue Part 4
Home of Fox Mulder
Mid-Morning, Two Days Later

Diffused sunlight filtered through his blinds, miniscule dust 
particles drifting aimlessly in the rays. Unnoticed by the two 
occupants. 

Scully caught his furtive glances out of the corner of her eye, but 
chose to ignore them. She had work to do. *They* had work to do.  
She was surprised to actually hear him clacking away on the 
keyboard. And she hadn't yet heard one excuse as to why he should 
finish later or she should help him. They'd been working for a 
little over an hour and she had yet to hear one word.

She was suspicious.

But she wasn't about to stop.  Her laptop was on his coffee table 
and she was perched at the edge of his couch.  

Indian Summer had arrived in D.C. at the same time they had 
returned from Vermont. Mostly dry, crackly rust-colored leaves 
strewn and tossed about, long past their color prime.  The sun 
filtering through the low-hanging haze belied the calendar. 
Consequently, she'd thrown on a pair of lightweight knit pants and 
her favorite cropped and sleeveless sweatshirt. Her sneakers hadn't 
made it past the front door where they were parked next to his.

She stopped typing long enough to run her fingers through her hair 
and sweep it up and into a covered elastic, the ponytail up off her 
neck, long wispy tendrils floating haphazardly. 

As the words for her report began to gel, her visual awareness of 
her partner began to fade. Just a bit. She couldn't be in the same 
room with him and not be aware of his presence.  But right now, too 
much awareness would be the end of her work and she needed to get 
her thoughts down, gain as much perspective on this 
case-within-a-case as she could while it was still fresh in her 
memory. Tucking a few of those errant wisps of hair behind her ear, 
she pushed her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose and 
continued typing.

<...it would appear that Dr. Aja Sonjah's credentials are bonafide; 
at least up until late July 2002.  While the doctor's degrees and 
experience are verifiable, her association with Diana Fowley is in 
question. Although Dr. Sonjah was unwilling to respond to any 
questions regarding the manner in which she initially met Ms. 
Fowley, it was clear that she had been recruited through an unknown 
third party at this time...>

Sighing and pausing, Scully did glance over at Mulder, catching the 
slightest movement as he quickly closed a desk drawer. Looking for 
all the world as if he'd been caught with his hand in the 
proverbial cookie jar. He paid her no attention, however, and 
resumed his typing. She could feel the pent up energy coming off 
him in waves. Too good to be true, she mused, shaking her head, but 
turned back to her screen.

<...to all appearances, it would seem that Ms. Diana Fowley, a 
former Agent with the Bureau, has developed interests outside the 
realm of law enforcement. Such interests appear to include 
establishing some notoriety in the field of exploratory science. A 
possible connection to a yet untraceable drug lord is also in 
question>

Scully picked up her Club Soda, the glass slick with condensation,  
and took a long drink. Setting it back down, she placed her hands 
on her lower back and arched her spine. Mulder had offered her 
shared space at his desk, but she knew that that path led to 
interruptions and probably lack of report writing. Her elbows once 
again on her knees, her fingers paused over the keys as she 
gathered her thoughts. She knew she'd later have to edit what she'd 
written since she skipped from section to section, but at this 
point, she needed to simply commit to writing as much as she could.

<If not for its potential to wreak havoc on the human neurological 
and immune systems, the development of this drug, still considered 
an illicit substance and far afield from any attempts at 
established drug trials, might prove promising. Further exploration 
and experimentation under extremely controlled, replicated, and 
scientifically approved settings is highly recommended. 

<This substance has gone through several permutations; first 
appearing in a semi-solid state or paste. Applied directly to the 
skin, it produced sundry reactions including raised body 
temperature, disorientation and dizziness. It has also been known 
by various names, but CAT54, derived from its catalytic properties 
and later CTJ or Jump, for it supposed ability to move the subject 
from one location to another were the most common. Whether or not 
the transport capability can be proven is undetermined at this 
writing>

Her fingers flew over the keys now, even as she realized that much 
of what she was writing was subject to verification. Much of her 
information was based on supposition. Far afield from that which 
fell within Dana Scully, scientist's realm.

<It appears to be a catalyst that works at the cellular level, 
causing faster than normal rate movement or vibration. In its later 
stages, the side effects proved to be debilitating since the 
correct dosage most likely needed calibration based on body 
weight.  In its later more refined state, it has been distilled 
into a liquid that can be swallowed or infused for faster systemic 
distribution. Noted reactions of this form...>

"Scully?"  By the look on her partner's face, he had been calling 
her name for some time. So engrossed in her subject matter was she 
that she hadn't heard him until he'd reached out and placed a hand 
on her arm.

"Hmm?" She welcomed the distraction, his fingers warm against her 
skin, but knew she couldn't afford to stop completely at this 
point. "I'm doing okay, Mulder, really. I just need to finish this 
before I lose my momentum." She smiled wanly, hoping he'd note her 
seriousness. Not wanting to encourage him into considering this 
brief pause as a full-blown break.

"It can wait or I can help you," his voice was low and calming.

Her smile grew as she thanked him, but restated her need to 
continue. And thankfully, he didn't attempt to dissuade her from 
her chosen course. He really could be very patient and supportive 
of her work, she thought as her fingers hit the keys.

<Noted reactions in this form include initial mimicry of shock, 
temporary loss of the senses as the drug coats the synapses.  After 
an undetermined amount of time, but usually less than one hour, the 
senses return to normal, but the body temperature rises 
exponentially.  Unless transport occurs within five minutes, the 
body will most certainly over-heat, leading to death.  This 
information was gleaned from the computerized files of Dr. Sonjah 
and Ms. Fowley.  It is obvious that...> 

She never heard him move, but somehow her previously-understanding 
life partner was now seated behind her on his couch, his legs 
framing hers, his arms wrapped around her middle. And his lips at 
her right ear. 

Lifting one hand from the keyboard, she ineffectually swatted at 
his head, muttering to him about letting her finish. 

Stimulus response.

She succeeded only in feeling his slightly stubbled cheek rub flush 
with hers, his nose nuzzling her hair as he moved back again. 
"It's time for a break, Agent Scully." His voice hovered somewhere 
in between authoritative and... seductive.

Studiously avoiding the overwhelming urge to tilt her head to the 
side, thereby giving his lips access to her rather sensitive neck, 
she willed herself to ignore him. Ignore the way his inner thigh 
muscles contracted to hold her hips and thighs secure between his. 
Ignore the fact that the weight of his long nylon running shorts 
did nothing to hide his rather prominent erection pressed into her 
lower back. And while she was at it, she might also try to ignore 
the fact that somehow his very warm hands had found their way under 
her sweatshirt and made short work of unclasping her bra.  


^*^
One of Fox Mulder's personal goals in life 'A.S.', a.k.a. 'After 
Scully', was to infuse her carefully ordered life with a bit of 
dissonance. Upset her apple cart, ruffle her feathers, throw a 
wrench in her plans. Nothing too drastic, but just enough to get 
her attention.

Well, maybe a little more than just getting her attention.

Sometimes Mulder succeeded, sometimes he didn't.  He smiled, his 
face against hers, because he was succeeding this time. And when he 
did, they both came out winners.

He knew she wanted to follow her usual agenda; work first, play 
later. 

But...he had another agenda. One he was pretty sure she'd be in 
agreement with.

He'd missed spending time with her that wasn't related to a case. 
Sure, they'd managed to carve out some personal time in Burlington 
and had actually found their way back to each other after the 
nearly-devastating Cat Island debacle. But, as usual, one or the 
other of them was pulled away and watching and waiting seemed the 
rule.

So, he had tried hard to work on his own report, figuring that 
using his time wisely while his partner did likewise would net 
them some uninterrupted time. However, after approximately ten 
minutes of 'preparing to write' and then another ten of 'thinking 
about how to say it', he'd eked out one paragraph. 

He was restless. He was restless and Scully was in his apartment 
and he needed to be near her, to touch her, to show her how glad he 
was that she was safe, that she was with him...that she was his. 

When his initial attempts to get her attention had fallen flat -- 
as he'd expected -- he'd decided it was time to be more direct in 
his approach.

So absorbed in her report was she that he easily slipped in behind 
her, tugging her ponytail playfully before enveloping her in his 
arms, molding his body to hers. It hadn't been so long since they'd 
had time alone that he'd forgotten just how sensitive her earlobes 
were. No, not at all... And he whispered her name as his lips found 
the shell and then traveled south.

He'd laughed when she'd swatted at him, the awkward angle allowing 
her to do no more than tap at his forehead and nose before she'd 
returned to her typing. 

But she had yet to deal with Determined Mulder. Her efforts ensured 
that he would re-double his efforts and the curl of his arms around 
her torso allowed him to pull her back more firmly into the vee of 
his legs. He'd nearly groaned as she instinctually shifted her hips 
against the evidence of his arousal. How was it that he always 
found himself feeling as if he'd missed her? 

No matter how close they were for how long, the shortest separation 
always felt timeless. Always felt too long. But he had her now. 
They were close and, if he had his way, they were about to be much 
closer.

If only he could get her to stop typing.

He leaned farther forward over her shoulder, trying to see what had 
her so enthralled that even his best attempts at seduction were 
paling in comparison. Squinting his eyes, one hand slipping from 
underneath her top, he walked his fingers down her forearm, trying 
in vain to still her hand. 

Scully could be stubborn to prove a point. He knew that. He loved 
that about her -- most of the time. But she was going to stop 
typing even if he had to resort to more drastic measures. Although, 
short of ripping the clothes from both their bodies...

"Scully?"

She hadn't even turned around. "Almost finished, Mulder. Just give 
me --"

She could be so eloquent when overcome with unplanned stimulus, he 
mused as he lightly blew into her ear and then chased the puff of 
air with the tip of his very wet tongue. Or maybe her eloquence had 
been due to the way his thumb and forefinger rolled her nipple 
gently.

Her fingers rested on the laptop's keyboard, but the clacking had 
ceased.

His voice dusky and low, he murmured, "Save your work, Scully. Hit. 
Save."

Guiding her hand, he waited until he heard the confirming 'chime' 
signaling her report was safe from his raging lust, and then drew 
her hand to her breast.  

Even when he reached for her other hand, she still didn't seem 
entirely convinced that what he had in mind was infinitely more 
exciting than finishing her report. But when both his hands covered 
hers over her bare skin, his fingers forming around her own to tug 
at her hardened nipples, her head lolled back against him and she 
haltingly told him that she thought she might need a break from 
typing.  He barely made out her explanation about not wanting to 
get carpal tunnel syndrome from too much time at the keyboard.

He laughed then, not at the sight of her laying bonelessly against 
him, one of her legs now draped over his, nor at the way her 
eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly's wings against her 
cheekbones. And certainly not at the way that her hips kept up a 
rhythm that was about to drive him insane. But rather at the way 
she somehow could be both as professional as if their lives 
depended on it and as over-the-edge turned on as he was. Dana 
Katherine Scully; an enigma within a puzzle all tied up in a very 
sophisticated and dazzling ribbon. 

Now pressing her hand beneath his flush against her rapidly beating 
heart, his right hand  palmed her cheek, turning her toward him. 
Angling his mouth as he sought her lips, he noted that her languid 
pose belied the ferocity stirring within. He'd have to interrupt her 
report writing more often, he thought before her tongue curling 
around his obliterated all other thought.


^*^
She wasn't sure how she'd been able to hold him off for as long as 
she had. And, if she were honest with herself, she'd say that it 
was difficult doing so. Hell, being wrapped in a Mulder blanket was 
not a trifling experience. Every part of his body branded her 
wherever they touched. 

And right now his mouth was making love to hers while he turned her 
in his lap. She felt him scoot back against the leather cushions as 
he cradled her, his arm circling her waist. 

But it wasn't enough. Not nearly.

Her ass still on the couch as she sat between his legs, she had one 
leg over his and the other splayed wide. She grabbed his neck with 
both hands, bringing their faces closer, as she sat upright. Their 
teeth clashed as lips and tongues slipped and slid and played. With 
a mounting intensity.
  
Frenzied. That's how he thought of it when his mind was actually 
functioning. She moved like a cat in heat, her body restless, her 
moans setting off little explosions along his neural pathways. His 
need to devour her was outweighed only by his struggle to find the 
fastest way to get her naked. And maybe himself, in the process, 
too. Since she already held their mouths locked in position, 
Mulder's hands were free to explore. To explore every firm and 
supple and hot inch of her.

His hands tugged at her crop top ineffectually and found their way 
underneath instead. Roughly massaging her breasts and then 
squeezing and cupping them as his thumbs danced devilishly over 
her tight nipples.

The sound of her whimpered moan gave him tacit permission to 
continue.  

But trying to dislodge his voracious partner so he could reposition 
them into a more clothing disrobing friendly position was not 
working. Then again, what was a little more foreplay, his mind and 
body thought in unison as he framed her waist with his hands and 
lifted her until she was straddling his legs. He felt her hands 
clutch at his hair as she rose onto her knees before swooping down 
to rain hot and feverish kisses over his eyes and cheeks.
 
Her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath in the 
two-person whirlwind they had somehow created, Scully sat down on 
Mulder's thighs, her hands slowly stroking his chest over his 
rather rumpled tee shirt. "Mulder...," she chuffed, "clothes..."

The upward curl of her lips matched his slow grin.

"I want your shirt to disappear, partner." To punctuate her growled 
request, she slipped one small hand inside the stretchy waist of 
his shorts, that same small hand latching onto his straining 
erection. Although she couldn't quite make out the words, she 
managed to catch a few syllables before his head fell back against 
the cushion and the partial sounds flowed into one rather deep moan.
 
She was going to bring him to his knees if she kept it up. Then 
again, he was much too loose-limbed at this point to be brought to 
his knees and he was having no trouble keeping it up all by himself.
Although he had to admit, the feel of her palm surrounding his 
harder than stone cock now qualified as dangerous.

Her thumb swiping along the very sensitive underside caused him to 
buck into her hand, nearly toppling her from his lap, but he 
remembered to hold her in place, his hands firmly gripping her hips.

Then slipping from her hips to the soft and warm skin just below 
her ribs. Trailing his fingers back and forth across her abdomen 
and then up and down from ribs to breasts with a laziness he 
certainly didn't feel, he mumbled, "Scully, this reminds me of one 
summer on the Cape after my freshman year in college."

The vibrations from her chuckle that traveled through her hand to 
his now aching flesh brought his head up off the backrest. "What's 
so funny?"

It was his turn to give her the eyebrow when she replied, "You, 
college man," as she removed her hand from his shorts and slid 
forward, rocking against him.

Even through the thin cloth separating them, Scully could feel the 
hot hard length of him nestling into her wet and waiting center. 
But they were at an impasse. A not totally unenjoyable impasse, she 
had to admit when she could find enough brain cells to give it any 
serious thought...  She acknowledged that engaging in what she 
secretly thought of as 'cerebrally sensual foreplay' seemed to fit 
them both so well. Not to mention suit them both just fine. More 
than fine.

They both came from intellectual backgrounds and thrived on the 
pursuit of new information, the debating and clashing of ideas, the 
acquisition of the formerly unknown. And sometimes those well-honed 
skills slipped over into their intimacy. Through their burgeoning 
relationship, they'd discovered that as each had suspected, they 
were multi-faceted individuals; possessing unique, as well as, 
similar qualities.

One of those similarities was the appreciation of the tease; the 
slow, drawn out fleeting touches, kisses, explorations that led to 
the all-consuming passion that often threatened to consume them -- 
often *did* consume them.

But sometimes, that tease was anything but slow and drawn out and 
had entertaining side effects. Like their inability to remove the 
final barriers, the inability to think with anything north of 
their hips.

Arms, legs, fingers, mouths and a multitude of various other 
erogenous zones. They were all in the way, Mulder mused. Although 
their corresponding anatomy seemed to be right on target; Scully's 
thighs gripping his fiercely, her hips grinding into his groin. His 
body knew what it needed to do, too, as he thrust against her, the 
friction of the interfering clothing getting to be just this side 
of way too much.

With an impassioned groan, he reached for her, his fingers twining 
into her hair, bringing her mouth to his as he parted her lips with 
his tongue. He felt her arousal in the wet firm response of her 
lips as they opened beneath his and  in her breathing as it 
quickened; the combination moans/groans getting lost between them. 
And just as suddenly as he'd begun the kiss, he drew away, breaking 
the seal between them, his eyes taking in the flushed surprise on 
his partner's face.

"Scully," he huffed out, "stand up." Grasping her by the waist, he 
helped her rise on somewhat shaky legs. 

He watched as she hooked her thumbs into the waist of her track 
pants, drawing them almost-roughly over her hips, taking her cotton 
bikinis with them, and used the opportunity to hastily tug his 
shorts and boxer briefs down and off as well. 

No matter how many times he had the chance to see her nude or 
nearly nude, he still found himself awed by her beauty and 
sensuality. Standing before him in nothing but her cropped 
sweatshirt, she took his breath away. From her tousled coppery 
hair that glinted in the wan sunlight to her expressive eyes, deep 
blue with the heat of the moment, to her lips swollen and moist 
from the kisses he couldn't get enough of. 

His eyes continued to travel down the column of her neck to the way 
her breasts rose and fell with her panting, her nipples tight and 
pushing at the fabric covering them. 

He stopped when he got to her hands resting on the curve of her 
hips. Grinning widely, his eyes traveled back to her face, her 
long wavy hair flowing over her shoulders as she tilted her head to 
one side. Sizing him up.

Scully watched the way his mouth curved upward. Slowly. 
Appreciatively. With just the slightest tinge of mischievous humor. 
"See something funny, Mulder?" Her eyebrow arched as she barely 
controlled her urge to smile with him. She supposed that the sight 
of them; both naked from the waist down, might be construed as 
comical -- if it weren't also so damn hot.

And there was quite a bit of her half-undressed partner that was 
'hot'. And 'yes', she admitted to herself, she *was* sizing him up. 
Unbidden, the picture of Goldilocks finding her 'just the right 
size' place to sit popped into her mind and her previous notion of 
their current state of undress seemed anything but funny.

Moving upwards from his bare feet turned outward, she moved between 
his widely spread legs, sure they'd fall open even more if he 
weren't exerting some effort to hold them in place. He was slouched 
down, his hips pitched forward. His erection jutting at an angle 
that belied his attempt at a casual pose.

He was definitely on the edge.

She could feel the heat emanating from him. Almost as much as she 
could feel her own, centered low in her belly and between her legs.

She wasn't going to last much longer. Was surprised she'd last as 
long as she had.

His tee lazily draped over his hip on the right and bunched where 
the line of his dark hair disappeared below his navel. 

Arms akimbo, she watched as his hands clenched and unclenched, and 
chose to follow the line on his left side to meet his eyes. 
Mulder's eyes...windows to his soul, if not the world. Now 
heavy-lidded and somewhere between hazel, dark green and lustful. 
Despite his relaxed look, she knew he was holding himself in check. 
Knew that all she had to do was give the word and he'd be on her 
faster than she could say his name.

But she had an agenda. A short one, yes, but an agenda nonetheless.

And somehow it had prevented her from hearing his response to her 
earlier question. "Not funny, no. Actually, Scully, I see 
something --" She cut him off mid-sentence as she knelt, her eyes 
and hands single-mindedly focused on the object of her desire. 

Whatever the words might have been, they were quickly swallowed 
when he hissed, the heat of her palm before her fingers wrapped 
themselves around his turgid length enough to banish any rational 
thought. Not to mention cause him to buck into her grasp.

But it was her tongue swirling over the head and sensitive ridge as 
if he were nothing but a child's lollipop that did him in.

His reaction was swift and lacking in finesse, but he made up for 
it in sheer muscled strength as he gripped her biceps, trying to 
bring her back to his lap. 

'Trying' was the operative word. One of the many amazing qualities 
about his partner was that her rather petite stature was at odds 
with her gritty stamina and force. She knew how to use it to her 
advantage; especially when he seemed to have less than his usual 
control over his body.

Like now. When all major functions had been routed straight to his 
dick and, although the adrenaline was flowing, it seemed to be 
lethargic, infusing a warmth that oozed through him.

Suddenly, his body was at attention, anticipating the skin to skin 
connection as Scully straddled his lap once again, rising onto her 
knees in the process.

Unable to keep still any longer, his hands pawed at her top, but 
she'd somehow already managed to tug at his and before he knew what 
was happening, he found himself helping her pull it over his head.  
He watched out of the corner of his eye as it landed on his desk, 
the air cool on his fevered flesh.

Persistence. He was determined that they be chest to chest, but she 
was reaching between them, taking him in her hand as she held 
herself poised above him.

Hot. Wet. She was both and more. Back to teasing him as she slid 
the very tip of him along her center. Watching him from beneath her 
lashes, inwardly thrilled and excited by his hungry look. 

"Patience," she told him, when that was the last thing she felt she 
herself possessed. "You know what they say about all good things 
coming to those who --"

His sharp intake of breath was all the notice she had as he stilled 
her hand, his fingers circling her wrists. Panting, her hair 
falling in her eyes, she half-heartedly tried to pull free. 
Unsuccessfully. 

"You're being greedy, partner," she told him as she shifted her 
weight, pressing his insistent erection between them.

That got an answer from him as he smiled wolfishly. "As usual, 
Agent Scully, you're right."

What she remembered from that point in time forward was that he 
brought her curled hands to his mouth, first nudging open her 
fingers with his nose and then alternately kissing and tonguing her 
palms. Sending shivers through her at lightening speed.

From there, she recalled her arms raised above her head as her 
cropped sweatshirt left her body and Mulder's mouth attached itself 
to her breast, the tip of his oh-so-wet tongue flicking at her 
nipple before he tried to devour her.

She thinks she must have reached for his hair, hoping to draw him 
closer or maybe to make them one, but the result was the same in 
the end; his lips slipping around her areola on one breast as his 
fingers nimbly manipulated the moist and achingly tight tip of the 
other.

She thought about telling him how adorably exasperating he was when 
he disengaged from her, but before she could moan anything more 
than 'Muhl...', he'd lifted her and slid home, burying himself so 
deeply inside her that he left her speechless.

He watched as she let his hands on her hips guide her; slowly up 
and twice as slowly down again. Trying to gain some purchase on 
the sweat-slicked leather, he backed into the cushions, taking her 
with him. Eliciting an "Oh...Mulder" before she bit into her lower 
lip with the edge of her teeth.

She looked sexy as hell and his fingers dug into her hips as he 
thrust into her harder, faster.

But it wasn't enough and his hands grabbed at her ass, forcing her 
to move within a tight arc, forcing a sharp cry from her as she 
dug her fingers into his shoulders.

He knew she was close when she tightened her grip on him. Tightened 
her grip -- everywhere. "Oh God, Scully," he somehow managed to 
bark out.

His head fell back against the couch as he felt rather than saw her 
hand try to wedge its way between their heated bodies. Snapping 
back to attention, he shoved her hand out of the way, his middle 
and index fingers finding her pulse point. Quickly brushing her 
chin with his thumb, indicating that she meet his eyes, he applied 
steady, but light pressure, circling, yet never touching.

He had her attention as she started to shake, her eyelids 
fluttering closed. So damn beautiful.

He was headed over the top of the rollercoaster, all sensation 
located between his legs, a runaway car he without breaks.

But he had to take her with him. "Scully," he whispered, hoping 
she'd hear him over the blood pounding through their veins as he 
stroked her once, twice. As he looked into her eyes.

As he watched her shatter.

He reached for her upper arms with his eyes closed, holding her 
still quaking body still as he slammed into her hard and fast.

She could feel the aftershocks of their orgasms -- strong, 
frenetic, mesmerizing. Sex with Mulder was never predictable, 
always an experience.

The feel of his arms now wrapped tightly around her waist as she 
drew her knees up alongside his ribs, hugging him back, made her 
warm all over.

"God, Mulder, I love you," she murmured before bringing his lips 
to hers.

^*^*^*^*^*^ Finis