Teach Maoine by Mish MSR, Halloween fic Written in response to the Haven's October "Our House" challenge; story must revolve around this picture: http://xf-extensions.com/hhouse3.jpg Rated: NC-17 Spoilers: HTGSC, Milagro Disclaimer: Not mine. Email: mish_rose@yahoo.com Distribution: Just let me know where. Summary: Diamonds shine the brightest in this house of riches. Note: The beginning of this story makes reference to a little fic I wrote last Halloween. You don't have to have read it to catch on, I think. But in any case, it's here. "Just stop it right there, Scully. I said no and I mean no." "No lumberjack clothes?" "No way. Think of something else." "Well, we don't have to do this, you know." That brought a huff of displeasure. "Like hell we don't." She knew it. Mulder could whine his way to the 31st - and probably would - but he got off on their little Halloween role-playing as much as she did. If last year was any indication, she was in for a treat better than peanut butter kisses. She just had to counter his feet-dragging with a bit of strategy. Cradling the telephone between her shoulder and ear, she reached for the eight by ten glossy sticking out from the pile on her desk. "How do you feel about dressing up?" "Please tell me you're thinking tuxedos, not togas." "Hmmm... tell you what..." The photo really was romantic, in a spooky sort of way. Not that Mulder looked at it like that, she was certain. "Why don't you throw out a few suggestions?" "Me? Scully, this is your baby. I'm just along for the ride." "Then I want a lumberjack." "And I'm using my veto power." "Veto power? What ever happened to 'Scully, this is your baby'?" "I get veto power when it endangers my well-being." "Don't tell me flannel makes you itch. I've seen your winter pajama bottoms. The same goes for your cold weather underwear." She waited, sighing into the receiver. Here he goes, she thought. One diversional tactic coming right up. "Did you receive the photograph yet?" He panted out the question like an eager puppy. "I did, and stop trying to change the subject." "Whaddya think?" "I think you're trying to kill two birds with one stone, that's what I think." "Scully." He sounded truly offended. "Look Mulder, you're not depriving me of my annual fantasy and that's final." "You haven't read the article yet, have you?" "Mulder, we just got back from a week in Idaho. Can I have at least one day free from spooks and goblins?" "But you haven't heard the story behind -" "Goodnight, Mulder." "Scully!" "You don't want lumberjack? Fine. Then dazzle me, mister. And I don't mean with a night spent dodging spiders in some musty old house, waiting for the Great Pumpkin to show up. Goodnight." In the time it took her to grab a bowl of triple chocolate ice cream from the kitchen, the IM screen popped up. ++++++++++ Trustno1: Dazzle you? OK, you asked for it Trustno1: It was a time of dark, dark despair. ++++++++++ She grinned around the edges of her spoon before temporarily abandoning the ice cream. Before she reached for the phone again, she replied, knowing Mulder had something up his sleeve. ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: Lyda and Maurice *again*? Trustno1: Sorry. Wrong story. How's this - Trustno1: It was a dark and stormy night. ++++++++++ "A dark and stormy night?" "Gripping, isn't it?" "Hmph. Something tells me this story doesn't improve." "It never will if you don't let me get back to it." With a huff, she hung up her phone. Mulder's tale continued almost immediately. ++++++++++ Trustno1: Lightning crackled through the night air, making her heart thud in her chest as if rivaling the thunder for top billing in nature's symphony to come. Her body under the cape moved swiftly but silently toward what she knew awaited her inside the house. Forbidden it was, her quest on this last stolen hour of All Hollow's Eve. But she didn't care; tomorrow was a distant, cloudy horizon, filled with an endless stretch of loneliness and empty days. This night had to be the last. ++++++++++ "We did the vampire bit last year, remember?" "I can't finish if you keep calling me." "Sure, fine, whatever." ++++++++++ Trustno1: She should have come in her carriage, but the stable hands couldn't be trusted not to tell Mr. Donovan. Using the new-fangled contraption he loved to survey the fields in was distasteful, not to mention the fact its sputtering engine could be heard for miles. The walk from the plantation wasn't overly long, but her dress heels weren't meant for traversing the stone-filled road between the Catalpa Plantation and its neighboring estate, the Shadows. She'd not wanted to waste a moment once she'd begged for leave from her husband's soiree. Pleading a headache had been easy enough, though she'd had to go through the usual ritual of summoning chamomile tea and cold compresses to make it believable. Pausing to change her shoes meant an extra delay with the possibility of discovery. As soon as she'd dismissed her maid, instructing her to douse the lamps, she'd escaped in darkness down the back stairs. ++++++++++ "Am I going to have to wear a corset, Mulder?" "They still make 'em?" He was almost breathless with the possibility. At her silence, he chuckled. "Hold on. I'm putting you on speaker, since you seem determined to interrupt me." She did the same, not wanting to admit he had her intrigued. After a few moments, she heard the tapping of his fingers on his keyboard. ++++++++++ Trustno1: She stopped at the end of the short lane, grabbing the sagging fence post to steady herself as she raised eyes almost blinded by the beginning rain. How was she to explain her muddy clothes and shoes to Yvette? No matter; the girl knew of her trysts with the handsome Mr. Ashland. Her maid wouldn't raise a brow, personally disposing of the now ruined gown and shoes. But Laura knew she'd have censorious looks thrown her way for days, Yvette not hesitating to show her displeasure at the missus' foolhardy trip without at least taking Joseph along for protection. Laura didn't want the bulky manservant along this time. Though as trustworthy as Yvette, she didn't want Joseph or anyone hovering in the edges of her awareness other than the man she'd come to love with an ache so piercing she'd often considered the unthinkable. This time, they would truly be alone and she refused to let doubt and responsibility color their time together. ++++++++++ "Mr. Ashland?" she asked over his constant typing. "Mulder, I'm not doing Scarlett O'Hara. That's my veto, period." "This is 1900, Scully. I think hoop skirts are long out of fashion." "Good." "But corsets aren't." ++++++++++ Trustno1: No, she wouldn't let rational thought enter into it at this stage. Not with the faint glow of light beckoning from the behind the broken windows ahead. Slowly, she began the last few steps to temporary happiness, remembering the first time they'd met. On this same road between heaven and hell, the rundown house straddling the two properties an obstacle to true friendship. She'd stopped to rest Beede, the way she'd raced the perimeter of the disputed property on the spirited gelding in the early summer morning fatiguing her and the horse. The bone of contention stood upright in the fog- hazed dawn light. With the grimace of a woman who scorned the overdone machinations of men, she'd sighed and wondered what all the fuss was about. She weighed the green grass in her gloved hand as if it were gold instead of horse feed. Beede nudged her elbow and she turned to him with a smile, voicing her opinion at the folly of such greed. "It's such a forlorn place, isn't it Beede?" she'd said. "Hardly worth all the trouble." A muted 'hurrah madam!' reached her ears. The rock sailed over her head, flying across the overgrown lawn with precise accuracy, shattering the pane of glass just above the sill. Startled, she ducked under Beede's graceful neck, her eyes wide at the intruder. ++++++++++ "Hang on, Scully. Pizza's here." "Mulder!" Her whimper of impatience was lost in his shove away from his desk. A thump, then 'shit!' made her grin. She heard him greet the delivery man, leave an awful tip and slam his door. "Just getting a beer, Scully! Be right back!" He deliberately left her to stew. But why should he be the only one to call the tune? ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: The voice fit the man, all lean and laced with mischief. Outlined in the mist swirling about his form, his handsome face took her breath in a swift blow. Clad from head to toe in black, only the stark whiteness of his linen shirt peeking from under his cravat - and even that wasn't up to fashionable standards, loosely hanging with a devil-may-care attitude that matched the wicked gleam of interest in his eye. He doffed his wide- brimmed country hat, bowing slightly as he held the reins of his chestnut stallion. "You're right," he'd offered by way of greeting. "The house is weeping." ++++++++++ "Hey!" "You snooze, you lose, Mulder." She sat through his silent perusal of her addition to the tale, waiting for an opinion. Which wasn't long in coming, naturally. "'Lean and laced with mischief'? Not fashionable? I'm hurt, Scully." "You know, in those days men wore corsets as well. I wonder if Mr. Ashland wears a corset, too?" Mulder let out a beer belch. "He does not." "Shall I continue so we can find out?" "Please do. At least until I finish my pizza." He paused for a moment; his next words came out muffled by a mouth full of food. "And Scully?" "Yeah?" she answered, already attacking her keyboard with glee. "He wears a corset, and you can kiss your fantasy goodbye." "We can always fall back on the lumberjack." ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: Still using her mount as protection, she chanced an inquisitive tilt of her head, gaining some semblance of control of the situation as she laid a hand on the derringer hidden in the folds of her spencer. From under the edge of her straw hat, she peered with suspicious eyes. He didn't move an inch, though his gaze slid in the general direction of her waist as if he knew her purpose. Hands at his sides, he awaited her answer, drawing calm from her with his honest, loose-limbed stance. "How so?" she'd answered, the impropriety of their conversation pricking at her conscience. She really should get away while she could. But something about the man's gentle regard made her stay. ++++++++++ "Hold it right there. My turn." "Okay. I'm going for more yogurt anyway." "Yogurt?" He snorted, his chair creaking as it rolled closer to his desk. "Scully, I can smell the chocolate from here." "Just for that, you'd better make it good." ++++++++++ Trustno1: He looked at the house with the same tenderness he bestowed upon her, inclining his chin at the drops of heavy dew dripping from once-gilded eaves. Though English was woefully inadequate, he bowed to the language of the land so there could be no misunderstanding. After so many years, after countless dreams unfulfilled and wishes denied, his tongue spoke what his heart felt, despite the rationality thrust upon him by fate and circumstance. "It offers diamonds to true beauty." ++++++++++ "Scully? You there?" She couldn't seem to form a reply past the sudden tightening of her throat. But she did, with a scratchy voice. "Nice." "I can do romantic, you know." He didn't say it with sarcasm or arrogance, not even humor. "I know." Mulder, while not the hearts and flowers type, romanced her with theory and unstoppable courage. He knew what she craved and gave it to her every day - with a poetry based on respect and touches steeped in love and desire. She heard him shift in his chair. Her sudden softness had transmitted itself to him over the line and he spoke before embarrassment got the better of him. "Your turn." But she wasn't letting the moment go that easily. "I doubt I could top that." "Well, you'll have to try, because I gotta pee." She smiled as she heard him walk away; sometimes, he was such a *guy*. ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: His words echoed in her head and she could still see his face become solemn on that long-ago morning. The men in these parts were well versed in suave repartee; she'd heard accolades to her looks delivered as easily and smoothly as playing cards dealt around a table. But this was different. Grave of voice, he stood unblinking in the green-gray southern countryside, his manner open and appraising. However, unlike the men of her circle, there was no sly innuendo or vacuous flattery behind the words. Only truth. Once again, he'd managed to rob her of air. Shocked at his boldness, she'd mounted Beede and sped away home, only to return again and again in the weeks since. She couldn't stay away. In tune with this man since the very moment they'd met, she'd found him at the house many times. Slowly, they'd come to know one another. He realized her unhappiness from the start; she listened to his proud, anguished tale knowing it could only end in tragedy for them both. Still, she came. Still, he waited. Every day, he told her not long ago. He'd known with one meeting who she was and why it was meant to be. Tonight she'd have to make him go. He would protest, offer all manner of solutions and lay his world at her feet. But she wouldn't listen, she vowed. Once Mr. Donovan found out - and now he most assuredly would - Mr. Ashland's life would be forfeit. He wouldn't be safe in the county; not even in the state. Mr. Donovan had held his temper this long, acquiescing to his team of attorneys without yet resorting to violence. Just the thought quickened her step. The rickety hand rail offered little support as she dodged the weak spots in the porch steps. When she reached the more safe top step, she was brought to a halt by the sudden opening of the door. He smiled, the corners of his hazel eyes crinkling as they swept over her slight form. ++++++++++ "My, but we've been a busy bee, haven't we?" "Like I said before, Mulder -" "Yeah yeah, I know. You snooze, you lose." He was quiet for a few moments as he read her message. "Hazel eyes, Scully? Getting a bit personal, aren't you?" "I thought that was the idea. Besides, I can't let you turn this into some porn version of 'Gone with the Wind', now can I?" "Hmm... 'Come with the Wind'. I like it." "You would." She picked up her half-melted bowl of ice cream. "Your turn. And try to keep it from turning into a sexfest, okay?" "I thought *that* was the idea, Scully." She laughed, sputtering drops of chocolate on her chin. ++++++++++ Trustno1: With a humorous yet lightly worried quip, he chastised her for standing out in the rain. He'd waited for an hour or more and had almost given up hope she'd arrive as planned. There were any number of obstacles she could have stumbled upon - the most dangerous being caught leaving Catalpa. But she was finally standing before him, the Titian hair that peeked from under her hood escaping her coiffure to curl about her cheeks. Pale as she was from the chilly dampness, she still looked upon him with a happy, yet reserved blue gaze. He sensed a need in her to speak, and with that would come the goodbye he knew she wanted. Joy warred with guilt in her face. And he couldn't let her give in to duty, not yet. In the next instant, she was in his arms as he carried her inside, his boot slamming the door shut against the night. Against the pull of reason and responsibility. ++++++++++ "Oh, come on. Who says 'Titian' anymore?" "Philip Padgett." "Don't start, Mulder." "Okay then. Mr. Ashland does," he stated firmly. "Who, by the way, likes to be called 'Ashland', before you get any wild ideas about naming him 'Brock' or 'Brick' or 'Brandon'." "All right... Ashland." "I hate that tone of voice, Scully." "What tone of voice?" "The one that says you're about to unman me." "Unman? *That* I like." ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: She had tried to say her piece and go, she really had. Tears gathered in her eyes when she saw the way he'd cleaned the dust from what was once a modest parlor. A small fire glowed in the fireplace and velvet pillows graced the floor in place of the tapestry sofa that had seen better days. In fact, all the ancient furniture had been shoved to the concealing darkness of the four walls. A bottle of champagne and two glasses sat next to a single candle on the floor. He'd set the scene for seduction. It was impossible to deny; she looked from the tableau before her to his silent, questioning face. He shifted, lowering her to her feet. One moment passed, then two, as he waited, not touching her anymore. Though she'd decided to end the relationship that grew more dangerous every day, in a heartbeat she clutched this shining hour to her breast - giving them both a memory that would have to last forever. One calloused hand cupped her cheek, brushing away the moisture gathered there. "You unman me with your tears," he whispered. "Don't cry." Smiling slightly, she covered his hand with her own. "Those aren't tears," she whispered. "As this house once gave diamonds to me, so I give them to you." ++++++++++ "Well?" Seemed she'd rendered Mulder speechless; at least a half minute had gone by without even a snort or chuckle from his end. "What? You don't like?" "No, it's not that." Husky-voiced, he paused to clear his throat. "Not that at all." "If I'm embarrassing you, Mulder, just -" She hadn't meant to get so serious. "Embarrass me? Impossible." At last, a smile in his voice. "Besides, I'm not the one channeling Nora Roberts, Scully." She was relieved at the lighter tone, and made a mental note to remember this was supposed to be playful. "And just how do you know about Nora Roberts, Mulder?" "Uh..." Papers shuffled. A dull thud followed, then a small hiss of annoyance after what sounded suspiciously like a lamp hitting the floor. "What was that?" "Just practicing my hook shot." Nearly choking with laughter, she leaned back in her chair. "You're cheating!" "I am not." "What is it - 'Jewels of the Sun'? Or 'Irish Rose'?" "And just how is it you know the titles, Scully?" He had her there, and he knew it. "I believe in maintaining a well-rounded grasp of modern literature." "Bullshit. I've seen the bottom drawer of your night stand, Scully. You have a thing for romance novels, admit it." "I used to, yes. Until I acquired a thing for you." Again, his voice dipped to low, raw feeling. "Good answer." "Now stop cheating and show me what you've got, mister." ++++++++++ Trustno1: He released a ragged sigh when she let her cape fall to the floor. Giving him a tremulous smile, she reached up and framed his clean-shaven face with her hands. Her mouth tilted up as his moved down; it wasn't the first kiss he'd ever bestowed upon her. However, it paled in comparison to the innocent press of his mouth on the back of her gloved hand. Softly, he drew apart her closed lips with his own as his arms came around her. It took only a second for his kiss to become urgent, probing deep. Eyes drifting shut, she gave in to his demand. One hand wrapped around her nape, he moved her head as he would a child's ragdoll, turning her this way and that so he could plunder at will. He sensed triumph in her pliancy and took the field with nothing less than total surrender. ++++++++++ "Nice. And you did it without cheating. I'm proud of you, Mulder." "I never cheated to begin with, but thank you. Ball's in your court, Scully." ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: She'd certainly been kissed before. By gentle suitors, by Mr. Donovan himself. But nothing like the soul-destroying capture of her mouth employed by the man in her embrace. From the first, she knew of the passionate nature underlying the sophistication. It was in his almost perfect mode of dress, the rich clothes always seeming to suffer from one crease too many. It hid in the stubborn waves of his dark hair, in the smoldering looks he gave her and the rough edge of tone he used when emotion got the better of him. To all who knew him, he was a gentleman of means and education. A newfound darling of county society, with maidens swooning at his feet and mamas conspiring for nothing less than marriage. The men who'd looked askance at him on his arrival soon flocked to his side for financial advice, hearing of his level head for business and knack for cutting competitors cold without breaking a sweat. The thought made her break away - was she just another pawn in the game? Another strategic move in the battle now some decades old? He'd told her she was the reason he'd braved the fight, not the house or the land. Seeing her hesitation, her slight accusation, he took a step back. If you believe that of me, this ends now, his wounded look cried. ++++++++++ "Have you heard of this house before, Scully?" "No, why?" "Just asking. You take an another whack at it - I need another beer." ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: "No, never," she breathed, the simple denial going further than any affirmative in acceptance of his attentions. This time he advanced, with a joyous face and a renewed assault on her senses. ++++++++++ She paused, waiting for Mulder's return as she pondered his question of moments before. The house *had* moved her when she first saw it, and the feeling had grown with every viewing of the photograph. Something within her moved; her hands rested on the keys as if poised for a concerto of words. But Mulder's message temporarily delayed what she felt rumbling low and insistent in the pit of her stomach. ++++++++++ Trustno1: Hurry, her hands told him, tugging at his clothes. With a muttered oath at the complexity of women's clothing, he swiftly turned her around, his fingers going for the row of tiny pearl buttons snaking down her spine. When the gown gave way enough, she shrugged off his touch, pulling the confining satin down until it pooled on the floor. Her corset followed, not as quickly as she would have liked; the laces, tightened to the point of constriction as was the fashion of the day, took some time. Her muttered imprecation at the delay made him chuckle. ++++++++++ "Scully?" "Back so soon?" Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't realized he was waiting for her reply. "And you just had to sneak in the corset, didn't you?" "Corset? What corset?" "Nice try, but I think I should point out that the closest I'll get to a corset these days is a push- up bra." "I'll take what I can get, Scully." ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: But his humor at her impatience was short-lived, as she turned and took control. Spreading his coat wide, she made short work of his vest and flung them both away as he arched a surprised eyebrow. Her kiss was explosive, propelling him into a staggering fall against the pillows. Laughing openly now, he settled her between his spread legs and let her slip the onyx studs of his shirt free. ++++++++++ "I think I should remind you, Scully - Mr. Ashland's manly physique has no need of a corset." "Manly physique?" "Just getting into character, that's all." Into character. Getting into character. A burst of inspiration made her continue and she furiously typed out her continuation. "Hey - it's my turn," Mulder protested. "Just give me a minute. Go get another beer." "I just got one," he replied, a bit miffed in tone. She ignored him and kept typing. ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: When her mouth began to trace a path over the exposed skin of his chest, his laughter died a quick death. His fingers dug into her hips, branding her through the linen of her chemise. She'd never had this with Mr. Donovan, never. Like the dutiful wife she was, she submitted but could summon no enthusiasm for her marriage bed. Her father, bound by circumstance, had little choice but to give his daughter to his affluent neighbor. A payment of sorts, for aid given. It wasn't that she bristled at the contract - she knew her place in the world and abided by its restrictions. Her husband left her cold, period. But this man... this man had everything she ever wanted in a mate. For the first and last time, she thumbed her nose at her papa's and husband's domination. *He* would let her do what she wanted. With him, to him, for him. She didn't hesitate. She had the rest of her life to do regrets and timidity. He hissed when her tongue brushed the scar on his chest; with her eyes closed, she remembered the day he'd told her of Cuba. Even then, she'd wanted to soothe the pain lingering in his eyes. Now, she wordlessly gave him succor from the haunting memory. ++++++++++ "Scully? Hey, Scully -" ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: Much as she wanted to tarry, to acquaint herself with the hard muscles she'd only dreamed of, she didn't. Instead, she followed her instincts. Drawing in a deep breath at her boldness, she squirmed down his body. His protest was feeble at best, something she paid no mind as she looked up into his glazed eyes with a devious smile. The buttons of his trousers gave her no trouble at all. In seconds, she'd released his straining flesh into her waiting hands. He breathed her name... "Laura" ... the moment she lowered her mouth. ++++++++++ "Scully, wait a minute." "You like me to go down on you Mulder, I know you do," she muttered, still typing. "That's not it." Frustration edged his voice, as if he wished miles of D.C. traffic didn't stand between them. "Just listen to me -" But she couldn't. One hand slapped at the telephone, disconnecting her from his interference. She had to finish. Almost immediately, the phone began to ring. This time, she yanked the line from the back of the phone, severing all attempts at interruption. ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: With hands made rough by excitement, his long fingers wove into her hair, scattering pins to the floor. Head held in a tender vise, she allowed him to set the rhythm of her assault, moaning beneath her as his hips lifted slowly up and down. This place, this unfamiliar part of his body, Trustno1: What the hell are you doing? Queequeg0925: held a particular fascination for her. The earthy scent of his skin was multiplied threefold, making her senses come alive with the need to bring him to satisfaction. He was her mate and she purred above him, matching his movements with the innate claim of the human animal. Silent and confident, she would not relent until she had dominion, something she'd never had before and would never have again. "Laura, stop..." Mr. Ashland gave warning, but she gave no quarter. Trustno1: Scully. Stop now. Stop it. Queequeg0925: Suddenly, she found herself on her back against the pillows, a heaving, wild-eyed lover holding her still as he sought her mouth with his. The hands that moments ago guided her to take charge now shoved up her chemise; she groaned under his kiss at the fullness that stretched her small body. Breaking away from his lips, she gasped for breath and bit her lip. Above her, he murmured things she didn't understand, but she knew were meant to soothe her. No, no, she wanted to scream, but it wouldn't take hold in her throat. This was the first and last time they'd ever have like this, and she wanted to prolong the hour. A trilling desperation rose up in her breast to match the growing approach of completion. Her arms and legs strained to hold him close as he pumped in and out of her body, but her mind refused to relax. His whispered litany of love, his hopeful words of escape for them both, how they'd leave and never return... all this she heard but didn't process. Instead, a more alert part of her listened to the thunder roll above his labored breathing. ++++++++++ The insistent ring of her cell phone clamored across the room. She worked on, her face damp with perspiration, her heart beating double time. ++++++++++ Queequeg0925: To let go would be disastrous, she knew. Still, it came... with a crescendo of pulsing fire deep in her belly. Lifting her arms from their slick exploration of his back, she curled them over her head as she arched her back. A low cry burst from her open mouth; her eyes squeezed shut then flew wide to see him watching her. He said her name over and over, his hips pinning her to the cushions as he planted a hand beside her head. She welcomed it even as her body fought to get away from his consuming passion. Hips squirming and circling, she felt the knife of orgasm slice neat and clean, releasing a starburst of feeling. He held her to him with a hand low on her back, riding out her pleasure as he stiffened as well. Hot, furious seed filled her body and she succumbed, finally letting go of the unwanted tension that colored their coupling. For long moments she let him lie upon her body. His lips moved against her throat as she calmed him with gentle touches, his whisper foreign to her ears but somehow understood. A small smile graced her mouth; she was so foolish. Though they'd reached the pinnacle together, she'd held a part of her distant for fear of the outside world. Next time. Next time, they'd be free to explore. To draw out the feeling, to linger and savor and - The house shook with the force of thunder. The fire had burned low, the candle barely sputtering with life. She wondered if ++++++++++ Eyes closed, she sat at her desk in a sleepy fog. It wasn't until a hand settled on her shoulder that she started from her stillness; she found herself face to face with a frantic Mulder. He jerked as if to gather her close, then thought better of it, as his jaw relaxed. "You okay?" Like she was liable to disappear should he let go, his hands touched her face, her shoulders, her arms. He had tomato sauce on his chin, bringing the pale sharpness of his features to the forefront. She reached up to wipe the smudge away with a confused smile. "Mulder, what are you doing here?" "What am I doing here?" Incredulity made his eyebrows shoot up. "Why'd you hang up on me? And why the hell didn't you answer your cell phone?" "Mulder, I didn't hang up on you. I couldn't have, because we haven't spoken since we left the office this afternoon." She sniffed at his t-shirt with a grimace. "You've been drinking. Are you sure you're okay?" With a purse of his lips, he sidestepped her and reached for the computer. Arms crossed, she glared at his back. "Don't you dare screw up that report on the Givens case. I've been working on that all night." He sighed, dropping into her chair. "No, you haven't," he insisted as he moved her mouse impatiently. "Where is it?" Fatigue dogged her steps to his side. "Where's what?" "The story. The one we made together. The one you took over - or should I say, the one that took over *you*." "Mulder, how much have you had to drink?" "Damn it, Scully, I'm not drunk! You and I were chatting about... plans for Halloween, and then suddenly, you were gone. You hung up on me and I couldn't get you to respond!" He stood up, towering over her with frustration. "I called you at least six times on the way over here but you never answered." Rolling her eyes at his fury, she picked up her receiver. Holding it to his ear, she said, "See? Still works." He grabbed it out of her hand and held it to her ear. "No, it doesn't." Slamming it down, he reached for the line. "And here's why. You disconnected it." He held up the line as iffy proof. But she wasn't convinced. "I've been meaning to call the phone company about that - it's loose. Anyway, you know you can ping me on my computer's phone line, just as you can call my cell. I would never disconnect my phone line, Mulder. Never cut myself off from you like that." "Look." He shoved her cell phone into her face. Six missed calls. A quick review revealed they were all from Mulder, the first coming in about an hour ago. Still, she remained adamant about her suppositions. "So I fell asleep at the computer. So did you, apparently. Exhaustion can manifest itself in many ways, including vivid dreams. The alcohol made it worse, don't you see? We got back from Idaho at four this morning, then spent the whole day scrambling to have this report ready for Skinner by tomorrow. You're just tired, Mulder. Very, very tired." "But it was so real." Scully brushed the shadows under his eyes with a gentle thumb. "The only thing real about this is the fact we're both operating on about three hours sleep in the last two days." Mulder deflated before her very eyes, passing a weary hand over his face. "Maybe you're right. But it still doesn't make sense. I know what we were doing this evening, albeit in a silicon medium. How much fun we were having. Hell, I left my apartment with a -" "With a what?" He grinned sheepishly, letting his hands fall on her hips. As his mouth brushed her forehead, he murmured, "Let's just say one part of me was wide awake, even if all the rest was just a dream." "See? A normal physiological response to the REM sleep of a grown man who spends way too much time on the Internet. A cyber-wet dream, if you will." She snorted with mirth, letting her head fall against his chest. "Stay. You shouldn't be driving this late, especially if you had a couple of beers. Besides, you're already dressed for bed." Her bare feet tickled his beneath the hem of his flannel pajama pants. "No shoes?" "I was in kind of a hurry." "They're freezing. Go get under the covers." With a little pinch at his waist, she shushed his protest. "I'll wake you up at six so you can go home and change for work. Go on and get in bed. I need to work a bit more then I'll join you." "If you're expecting me to get in bed with you and do nothing but fall asleep, Scully..." He yawned, squeezing her as his hand rubbed the ache in her back. "You're absolutely right." Laughter rumbled between them. She was too tired to reach higher than his chin with her kiss. "You'll make it up to me next week on Halloween, won't you?" "Damned right I will." He was mumbling now, asleep on his feet. "I'll even do lumberjack. And I won't make you do corset, 'k?" With one last kiss to her hair, he shuffled off to her bedroom. She shook her head at his incoherence, then chalked it up to his obvious sleep-deprived delirium. As were *all* his ramblings since he'd arrived. She sighed at the mess that was her desk and decided not to tackle anything more; she'd get up early with Mulder and finish the report over coffee before heading out for the office. In moments, she'd powered down the computer. The lamp over her desk had shifted farther away from her reaching fingers amidst all the files she'd taken home, and she leaned over to switch it off. The corner of a photograph peeked out with a tempting, glittery shine; she paused, grasping it between the fingers of one hand to bring it out from under the stack of expense receipts. No matter what Mulder said, she wasn't spending her Halloween in that old place. She turned it over to toss it in the wastebasket, stopping when a faded newspaper article clipped to the back caught her eye. Gently removing the faded yellow square from its place, she unfolded it and read the headline. The Jackson Courier November 5, 1900 Mysterious Disappearance Explained Local police have closed the missing person case of Mr. Tate Ashland. Mr. Ashland, a decorated hero of the Roosevelt campaign in Cuba, was discovered missing from the Shadows the morning of November 1 by his valet. Though not reported to the police until the following morning, Mr. Ashland's gentleman told the investigating officer that his employer failed to make an appearance at a scheduled meeting with his attorney, thus triggering an extensive search of his property and the surrounding county. In a revelation that took authorities by surprise yesterday, police were informed by Mr. Rufus Donovan, the esteemed state senator from Jackson County, that he'd received a telegram from Mr. Ashland, which stated his intent to relinquish all claims to the disputed property between his estate and Mr. Donovan's, known as Teach Maoine. It also agreed to terms on the selling of his plantation, the Shadows, to Senator Donovan. This missive was verified as accurate by the New York attorney Mr. Marsh Webster. Mr. John Jacoby, the local attorney who has represented Mr. Ashland since his move to the county earlier this year, voiced his protest to have the case remain open to the investigating officer, Inspector Macklin. But the documents presented by Mr. Webster to support this unusual turn of events were proven authentic when Mr. Ashland's valet stated the signature was in fact his employer's. Mr. Ashland, according to Mr. Webster, left the country soon after selling his plantation, expressing a desire to visit his late mother's homeland. Senator Donovan was unavailable for comment as of the printing of this story, despite the efforts of this reporter to obtain a personal statement. On a related note, Mrs. Rufus Donovan, the former Laura Sheridan, was admitted to Pinecrest Sanitarium late yesterday afternoon with, according to the staff at Catalpa Plantation, a very sudden, serious illness. Senator and Mrs. Donovan were married late last year in a lavish ceremony attended by the Governor and numerous other dignitaries, many the creme of southern society. It is rumored that Mr. Donovan refuses to leave his bride's bedside, as it is expected she will not recover. Scully closed her eyes and swayed, the whisper in her mind faint and haunting. "Scully, come to bed." She shook off her sudden chill, chuckling derisively at her musings. Her misfiring, exhausted brain couldn't even think logically - Mulder was right. Time for bed. Carefully replacing the photograph and clipping atop the pile on her desk, she killed the lamp and crept in the dark to Mulder's waiting embrace. End Author's Notes: A big "thank you" to Musea for beta and encouragement, as always. Most especially Diana Battis and mountainphile, for tackling this monster (no pun intended, even if it is Halloween ). Also, many thanks to Sybil for continuing to challenge me in many ways; you've made me think, honey. Love ya, babe! This story contains a nod to Diana Battis, Jintian, and Annie Sewell-Jennings; I couldn't resist, just as y'all still make me pee my pants with that story, no matter how many times I read it. :D My apologies to Nora Roberts, wherever you are. I mean no disrespect; actually, I love your novels and I sit in awe of your amazing talent. And lest I forget, thanks to the folks over at IrishGaelicTranslator.com and the Irish Language Forums of Dalta na Gaeilge, for help with the lingo. Fabulous places, both. I had a great time writing this and hope you enjoyed it as well. Thanks for reading. Mishy