Truce
Chapter Nine

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


If she made a habit of cursing, she would let
loose with the vehemence of a sailor, learned at
an early age by snooping on her father's trials
with a reluctant lawnmower.  Her mother would
blanch at the stream of vulgarities flowing
through her mind right now... all because she was
forced to confront a lover she most desperately
wanted to keep at arms' length for the time
being.

Damn him and his unceasing flair for butting in
where he had no business, she fumed, as she
stopped her rental car before the massive iron
gates.  In the light of the full moon, the oak
trees lining the drive created a dark tunnel, the
mansion at its end glowing eerily white and
ethereal.  Her partner, her lover, waited within
its ghostly walls, his superiority in this
situation almost making her turn tail and run. 
But she couldn't - first and foremost, she was
not about to cringe before Mulder.  Secondly, she
had to find a way to heal the sure breach between
them created by her abandonment.  Not with an eye
toward resuming their love relationship, but with
the goal of at least communing in friendship and
trust.  Didn't mean she had to like what she had
to do, but her mother had not raised cowards for
children.  And her father's temper lived and
breathed in those same children, as she felt
Mulder's perfidy at keeping her purse grate on
her nerves.  Of course, if she hadn't been so
off-kilter at the time, she'd have remembered to
ask for it.

Off-kilter?  More like drowning in lust.

"Damn," she muttered, anger at her own stupidity
growing apace with her ire at Mulder.  Would she
ever be immune to his touch?  Would she ever want
to be, that was the better question.

She sighed, wondering if she'd have to buzz in,
rolling her window down to do just that when she
saw the red glow of a camera settle on her from
its perch at the top corner of the gates.  As she
lifted her arm to depress the intercom, the gates
slowly opened, silently beckoning her to proceed.

Again, she cursed his arrogance, picturing him
sitting in his study, watching her approach with
a satisfied smirk.  He knew she would have
avoided him like the plague after that incident
in the closet... if not for the fact he had her
purse.  A simple little thing containing what
she'd busted her ass to get since she'd been in
New Orleans, it infuriated her that she'd been so
caught up in Mulder's sexual advances she'd
forgotten to get it back from him.

She told herself she was just going to get it and
leave.  Nothing he could say or do would have the
power to sway her like that again.

After she parked the car, she walked to the front
door, straightening her jacket.  She'd already
gotten an earful from Robert about the night's
activities, until she'd finally told him to
basically 'shut the hell up'.  Ignoring him the
rest of the drive back to her hotel, she'd hoped
he would remain aloof and continue his stare out
the limousine window - she didn't want him to
notice her missing evening bag.  Her silence
apparently worked, and she'd left him as soon as
they arrived at the hotel, not even giving him an
inkling of when they'd meet again.  He didn't
ask, and she didn't offer.  With Mulder's
reservations about Robert's purpose in the
operation, she knew that from now on, the less
she had to do with him, the better.  His
inattention wouldn't last long, however - she
fully expected him to contact her in the morning,
via the telephone or a personal visit.  And she
wasn't quite sure yet what to do about him.  She
had to get that bag back first.

The moment her boot hit the top step of the
veranda, the front door clicked open.  The
omniscience Mulder enjoyed ratcheted up her ire,
but she tamped it down, stepping into the lamplit
foyer.  He obviously trusted her enough to let
her enter unmolested, and in giving of that
trust, set a tone for their meeting that spoke of
some conciliation.  But she knew the bargaining
for that purse was liable to be heady and
unrelenting, and she was glad she'd taken the
time at the hotel to change out of the revealing
dress and into her black-on-black jeans and
sweater.  Her attire lent her posture the
normalcy and steadfastness it so desperately
needed, if she was to come through this meeting
still in possession of her dignity.

The lock clicked into place behind her, and she
walked a familiar route to the study, noting
Marvin's absence with a feeling of dread.  Had
this been simply a business meeting, the little
man would have been hovering, ushering her into
Mulder's lair like the unfailing employee she
sensed him to be.  His dismissal for the evening
was a sure sign of the more personal battle about
to be waged.

Sighing, she opened the study door; inside, the
fire glowed brightly, the only source of light in
an otherwise dark room.  Where was he?  She was
about to backtrack and yell for Marvin when a
shuffle came from the tall chair facing the
fireplace.  A beaded bag slipped from an almost
relaxed hand, glinting in the red-orange light
from the fire.

"I'd keep it, but I really don't think it's my
style.  Too... effeminate.  What do you think,
Scully?"

This was her chance.  Run up behind him, snatch
the bag and be gone.  Even if he tried to trap
her by denying her exit from the gates, she could
scale the iron fence in no time.

"Don't even *think* about it," he warned,
twisting his hand to wrap the slender chain of
the purse around his fist.

Defensively, she stuffed her hands in her jacket
pockets, swallowing at the hint of hurt in his
voice.  "I wasn't," she lied, her words shaky in
their betrayal.

"Like hell you weren't."  Purse now firmly
clasped in his hand, his face peeked around the
wing of the chair, one eyebrow lifted.  The
shadows of fatigue etched on his cheeks tugged at
her heart, but she remained unmoving in the
fierceness of his glare.  "Have a seat, Scully. 
There's coffee at the bar - unless you'd like
something stronger."  His head disappeared in the
depths of the chair once again, the purse
vanishing as well as he tucked it away.  "I have
a feeling you're gonna need it."

In a bid to take back some control, she took her
time with the coffee, adding creamer and sugar to
make a boosting brew that fortified her body with
just one sip.  Head held high, she took a seat on
the couch opposite his chair, unblinking as she
brought the cup to her lips again and again,
waiting for him to begin.

He watched her as she did him, and she couldn't
deny he made a very fetching sight, with his
bowtie hanging from the collar of his wrinkled
shirt, his tuxedo jacket just as rumpled but
still elegant.  Slouched in the chair, his long
legs spread out, he was the epitome of rich,
uncaring decadence, his gaze heavy-lidded as it
touched her from head to toe.  But she knew
better.  The mind behind those sexy, glittering
eyes worked on, cataloging the right approach,
the correct parry, the sure way to victory in the
battle of wills.

The proof of her assessment wasn't long in
coming, as he took a deep breath, his fingers
curling around the purse.

"So tell me, Scully... what's in this bag?  I
have a feeling it's more than a compact and a
driver's license."

Surprise at his admission stiffened her.  "You
haven't looked?"

Dropping his chin, he said softly, "No."

He wanted her to tell him, she realized.  To
share her bounty as a true partner should; it was
a move designed to test her trust.  To do so
didn't mean he'd give her the purse without more
in the way of accommodation - Mulder was too
locked in to the operation now to just sit by and
wait.  What she feared most was what exactly that
'accommodation' would be.  But she had to admire
his strength in not giving in to his curiosity;
that alone told her how serious he was about
staying in her good graces.

In her reflection, she didn't notice the quick
withdrawal of his lazy legs until he spoke again,
this time so quietly it lent an alarming
resonance to his question.

"When did you lose faith in me, Scully?"

Her head snapped up, noting the way he sat with
both hands cradling the purse between his knees. 
His chin lowered, he gazed at her with a guarded
expression, the way he'd closed in on himself
defensive in both body and voice.

"Mulder," she sighed, picking her way carefully
lest she revealed too much, "you know I've always
trusted and respected you, as well as..."

"Loved me?" he finished at her pause, one eyebrow
raised.  "Yeah, you've said it... not a lot, but
I know it's there.  I didn't ask you if you still
loved me, Scully.  Or if you ever trusted me.  I
want to know when you lost faith in me."

Since she'd all but told him she no longer
trusted him at their first meeting two days ago,
she shouldn't be surprised at his question. 
Still, it rattled her that he'd managed to take
her seriously - when, in fact, she hadn't known
herself until now that she would never deny him
her trust.  A matter of faith, on the other
hand....

"Mulder, that's ridiculous."  She finished her
coffee in one gulp, desperately trying for
control in a rapidly disintegrating situation. 
"I trust you.  That's most important, don't you
think?"

"Is it?  I've known for a long time you trusted
me, Scully.  But I don't think you believe in me
anymore."

He was so steadfast in his complaint that she
found herself at a loss for a rebuttal.  She knew
what he was getting at - his words were, for
once, straightforward.  With Mulder, one never
really had a handle on his sometimes cryptic
comments and unusual methods of getting to the
bottom of things.  A man who would cheerfully
walk into danger if he thought it nudged him one
inch closer to his elusive 'truth' was so hard to
understand sometimes.  Especially when he
continued to put himself in hazardous,
uncontrollable situations after they'd basically
committed to one another as life mates.  She'd
lost count of the times she'd wanted to rant and
rave at his near misses, but hesitated because
she didn't want to appear smothering.

This time, he laid it all out.  And this time,
she had no such qualms about speaking her mind,
though she doubted what she had to say would make
him very happy.

"At this moment, I don't know what I feel,
Mulder.  Your refusal to give me the purse is
childish and doesn't exactly inspire faith.  If
anything, it inspires suspicion."

"You didn't ask for it," he pointed out, rolling
it over his fingers like a little beanbag.

"All right, I'm asking now."

"And I'm refusing.  For now."

"Mulder..." she growled, impatience furrowing her
brow.

"Go on," he prodded gently, infuriating her even
more.  "You're just dying to let me have it,
aren't you, Scully?  So what are you waiting
for?"

Another manipulation, one easily recognized by
her as an old tactic Mulder excelled at.  His
words, his whole demeanor, was designed to
provoke her into losing control.  And damn him,
it was working.  She knew she was vulnerable to
it, but was powerless to defend against it.  In
opening himself to her wrath, he'd basically
asked for it.

She stood, all the fury of the past lonely months
- the last few years - spilling forth in her
trembling voice.  "You bastard," she hissed,
feeling hot color steal up her cheeks.  

"There's been some doubt as to my paternity for
years now, Scully.  Tell me something new."

His quip, delivered in a dry voice, served to
raise her ire to colossal levels.  Holding her
coffee cup in white-knuckled fingers, she jabbed
at his confidence with unprecedented precision. 
She wasn't one to get so personal, but the time
had passed for professionalism.  Time to get down
and dirty.  "How's this for honesty, Mulder -
you're right.  My faith these past months has
been tested, more so in the last week.  Not
because you won't give me what's rightfully mine
-" Her gaze darted to the purse before ccoming
back up to challenge him.  "Not because you're
too sure of yourself, or too free with your
criticisms of my actions when you hide yourself
in this gold-plated palace, not even because you
can still make me forget everything but the way
you taste with just a crook of your little
finger.  No, my faith in you took a beating the
day you left me."


**********


She stalked away from him to the bar, while
silence loomed in the dim study.  Mulder was
satisfied, but the price he paid could prove to
be too much.  Pocketing the sequined bone of
contention, he rose from his chair with a sigh,
intending to comfort her and take the edge off a
revelation he knew pained her.

"You know why I left you, Scully.  It was too
dangerous for you," he began to explain, but she
cut him off, her coffee cup hitting the bar with
a pop.

"You left me long before that, Mulder."

With her back to him, he couldn't see her
expression, but the soft accusation in her voice
told him he didn't have to see her face to
understand her hurt and sense of betrayal.  More
puzzling was the fact he had no idea what she was
talking about, and he said so.  "I never left you
before then, Scully.  Not by my own choice,
that's for damned sure."

"Yes, you did."

In the span of two seconds, her anger became his. 
"When?"

Slowly she turned, her face composed but her eyes
shimmering with pain.  "When you found out you
were dying."

The shot out of the blue almost staggered him. 
"What?"

"Do you know what it was like... do you have
*any* idea... how much it hurt me when I found
out what you so callously kept from me?"

He'd never seen her so emotional.  In her own
way, of course, without tears or cries of anger -
not even a curse laid upon his head.  She was as
beautifully composed as she ever was, but it was
that which spoke of the awesome hurt she felt. 
Not a muscle moved in the line of her jaw, and
her high color of moments ago had faded to a
paleness almost alarming in its intensity.  He
started forward, intent on taking some of her
pain upon himself, but was brought up short by
her continuance.

"I had to sit in a room full of agents, not to
mention Skinner and Doggett.  You'd been missing
only a day... a day," she chuckled mirthlessly,
her hands fisting at her sides.  "It was like
pulling teeth to get them to do anything to find
you.  Skinner's hands were tied, and Agent
Doggett - well, let's just say he didn't know at
the time whose bidding he was doing."

Kersh.  Scully had never spoken in detail of her
life while he was gone, and truthfully, the
pregnancy had taken center stage once he
returned.  But her words now, combined with the
way she stood before him wound tight as a top,
told him what she'd kept from him.  Mulder
sighed, wanting to stop her monotone, but curious
just the same.  He said nothing, knowing she
needed to say those things.  Communication of a
more personal nature had never been their forte,
even after they'd become lovers.  Now, he saw
that he should have told her of his condition. 
As a partner, if nothing else.  She deserved
better.

"Do you know what they paraded in front of me?  A
headstone.  I felt the bottom drop out of my
world when I saw that, Mulder."

"I'm sorry, Scully," he murmured.  It sounded so
trite, but he said it again, unable to think of
anything to say.  "I'm sorry."

"You knew, didn't you?  When we were in New
Orleans that last time, you knew."

The word choked him.  "Yes."

"Yet you said nothing." Arms crossed now, she
half-turned, slowly shaking her head like she'd
awakened from a years-long sleep.  "That's why
you consented to the in vitro, isn't it?  Because
you wanted to leave me with someone to replace
you?  Did you think I'd thank you for that at
your grave side?  'So long, Mulder - thanks for
the kid.'"

"No!" What he did, what he neglected to tell her,
had been wrong, he saw that now.  But what was in
the past what just that - over and done.  He'd
apologized, though he knew she would be hurt over
it for a long time.  But he'd be damned if he'd
let it come between them now.  Moving closer to
her, he raised his voice, determined to disabuse
her notions of heaping all the blame upon his
head.  "I consented to the in vitro because I
loved you, Scully.  Yes, I was surprised by your
request.  Making the decision to bring a child
into our world took some thought.  But not once
did I look at it as a goodbye.  I considered it
an honor to father your child..." His voice broke
as he took one step closer - a final step toward
reconciliation, in his mind.  "It nearly broke me
when we found out it hadn't worked; one look at
you and I knew I couldn't burden you with the
news of my impending death.  You'd had enough
sorrow in your life."

He still wasn't all that sure William was a
product of natural conception, and he doubted he
would ever bring up that subject again.  No
matter what he felt, that boy was theirs.  All he
wished for now was the peace to live with William
and his mother, for however long they had left. 

Scully looked up, and the defeat on her face
slammed into him like a punch to the gut. 
"You'll always leave me, Mulder, don't you see
that?" she whispered.  "This is not about choices
made by either one of us.  I've pushed you away
many times, I admit it."

He knew she was speaking of her request after
William's birth, that he leave for his own
safety.  Knowing he could pounce on it, he
refused to give in to the urge, sensing their
relationship was about to take a major turn.  For
good or bad, he didn't know.  But he had to take
the chance - somehow, he knew another wouldn't be
forthcoming.

"But you've done the same to me, Mulder," she
continued.  "And I don't know if I can weather
another loss.  Giving up William nearly killed
me, and your abandonment just made me realize
that no matter what I do, I can't have you both."

"Scully," he said quietly, unused to seeing her
so confused and caught up in misery.  She was the
most resilient person he'd ever known; of course,
everyone had a breaking point.

"I told you back in Roswell that I'd never accept
defeat.  And I won't... but I have accepted that
I can't let you hurt me again.  I want my son. 
No matter what path in life he takes, he will
always be a part of me.  My faith in him will
never waver."

Saying now he wanted their child as much as she
had would fall on deaf ears.  He hadn't shown a
great deal of personal interest in her pregnancy
upon his 'rise from the dead', other than
volunteering to attend Lamaze classes with her. 
Truth be known, he'd walked around in those
months after his resurrection in a daze of sorts,
too angry at the faceless people who still
manipulated their lives to give Scully any
reassurances.  How could he, when he hadn't been
all that sure her baby wasn't a product of some
horrific lab experiment?  How could he hold her
and say everything was going to be all right when
some mornings he woke up in a cold sweat just
from the confining presence of a sheet over his
body?

As a psychologist, he knew he'd suffered from
some manifestation of post-traumatic stress,
though to admit it at the time would have meant
allowing his guard to drop as he sought treatment
and/or resolution by introspection.  To stop
searching for the truth for even a minute would
have opened his mind to the horror he'd wanted to
bury forever.  He couldn't stop, not with Scully
burdened by an advanced pregnancy and with
Doggett and Skinner restrained by an enemy-
filled, collaborating Bureau.

"And if I told you I'd never leave you again?"

A rueful, teary smile graced her features, as she
sadly shook her head.  "You can't promise that."

With the shadow of death following his every
move, he knew what he'd offered could vanish in
an instant.  But he also knew he'd never again
leave her by choice, something she had to
realize.

"No, I can't.  I can't say anything other than
I'm sorry, Scully.  If I'd known we'd reach this
impasse, I'd have done things differently.  One
thing I've never lied about is *my* faith in you,
and my love for you and our son."  Face set in
hard, uncompromising lines, he continued, "But I
can promise that I will fight from now on.  No
more running.  No more hiding.  We can get
William back, Scully.  I *will* get him back -
for you.  Where we go from there, that's up to
you.  I promise to stay or leave... at your
command."

"And if I ask you to leave?"

He could have pointed out that by doing so, she
would be fulfilling her own low expectations of
his future behavior.  But he couldn't do it,
couldn't let the conversation continue on in a
negative direction.  He met her pain-filled gaze,
feeling as if - like her - his whole world
slipped away as he gave her a promise.  One that
would kill him if he had to make it come true. 
"Then I'll go."

Surprise made her jaw drop slightly, and she
looked as if she hadn't expected him to agree. 
He wondered if she knew exactly what she asked
him to consider, if she knew how much it would
kill him to have to leave her when all was said
and done.  She sputtered a bit, lowering her
lashes as she searched for an answer to his soft,
heartfelt vow.  "Mulder..."

But he didn't want her to feel obligated to
reply.  Rubbing a hand over his weary nape, he
hung his head, suddenly exhausted.  He reached
into his pocket for the purse, handing it over
without looking at her.  "Look, it's getting
late.  You need to get back to New Orleans." 
Before Luquet came looking for her, he added
silently.  He hated to see her rush back to that
man, but as he saw it, there was little he could
do to prevent it.  Her hurt was not something he
was ever going to triumph over, certainly not at
four o'clock in the morning over a cup of cold
coffee.  His suspicions of Luquet would have to
wait - he was tired of arguing.

"A key."

Her soft admission startled him.  Hand
outstretched, he froze in place, searching her
eyes for what he hoped to find.  It was there, a
simple concession that warmed his heart.  While
not gaining all that much ground, he'd pacified
her enough with his acceptance of her wishes to
revive their tenuous partnership.  It would do,
for now.

"Scully," he breathed, happiness at clearing a
very high hurdle taking his breath away.

"A key from Balfour's... and a computer disc from
Dupont's." Suddenly, she seemed to sway before
his steady regard.  "Naturally, I haven't had a
chance..."

He caught her before she fell, cursing himself
for putting her through the last hour when she
obviously hadn't been up to it.  If he'd bothered
to look past her pale, stoic face, he'd have seen
the smudges beneath her eyes that closer
inspection now revealed.  Her lashes drooped as
she put up a flimsy fight to his encroachment,
her hands pressing against his chest.  "I'm fine,
Mulder."

"You're not," he answered, picking her up in his
arms.  She squirmed for a moment, then quieted,
already half asleep.  "Just stay for a couple of
hours, okay?"  He settled her on the sofa,
pulling a throw from its sloped back to cover
her.

"Not long," she murmured.  "Don't let me sleep
too long."

"I won't," he said, knowing this promise was one
he wasn't going to keep.  She was here with him,
and he couldn't deny himself the chance to be
with her for however long she let him, even if it
involved a little subterfuge on his part.  She
hadn't really specified a wake-up time, he told
himself by way of absolution.

Though he knew he wouldn't be getting much rest
while she slept; with the permission she'd just
given him, he opened the purse.  He had an
opportunity to prove his worth to her as a
partner, and he damn well was going to take
advantage of it.



End Chapter Nine