Julia
Chapter Twenty

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Washington, D.C.
February 10, 2001
2:25 p.m.


The ringing in her ears almost drowned out the
shout.

"Get the fuck away from her!"

The Guardsman was gone in an instant, pulled
away by unseen hands.  Julia melted to the
floor, eyes still closed, her heart threatening
to pound right out of her chest.  Someone had
come... nothing happened.  It was okay.

She feared she would lose consciousness, her
relief was so palpable.  In the dim recesses of
her mind, she heard the dull thud of fist
meeting face.  Mulder?

Muttered profanity joined the meaty sounds,
penetrating the fog.  No, she had to do
something.  Get up, get up... he's going to kill
the Guardsman... can't let that happen.

Shaking, she stood and tried to focus.  Mulder
had the man pinned to the floor, but the fight
wasn't nearly over.  The Guardsman had a good
twenty pounds on Mulder and was wrestling to
remove the furious weight that was trying to get
his gun.

Gun... no.  If Mulder shot the man, they'd
surely be detained for questioning, quite
possibly imprisoned.  Staggering to the men, she
cursed the jello legs that her new fear
produced.

But she was too late.  Mulder had the gun and
was standing over the frightened guard, seconds
away from pulling the trigger.  Slowly, she put
a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tense
under her fingers through the suit coat.

"Get away, Julia," he snarled.  The bloodlust on
his face made her tremble; she'd never seen him
angry to the point where he wanted to commit
murder.  The click of the hammer being pulled
back spurred her to action; she put herself
between the two men.

"God damn it, move!"

<No.  Don't do this!>

His jaw dropped and he gulped in air, finally
raising his eyes to hers.  With her back to the
Guardsman still lying on the floor, she pleaded
with frantic hands.

<We're so close.  Mulder, stop.>

He blinked the sweat from his eyes and
swallowed, slowly lowering the gun.  Julia
stepped forward and wrapped hesitant arms around
him, laying her cheek on his heaving chest.  He
didn't reciprocate;  she knew he was still
keeping watch on the man behind them.  His form
was tense, ready to spring at any movement, any
threat.

Julia could have cried when she heard the bustle
come through the door.  It all happened in a
flurry of activity; more Guardsmen hauled away
their comrade, amidst his shouts of innocence
and Julia's complicity.  The gun was wrenched
from Mulder's hand and his arms stole around
her.  The breath left her body as he clutched
her to him, his hands grasping her sweater with
tight fists.

"You okay?" he whispered, hoarse concern
drifting into her ear.  The aftermath had set in
and she felt the adrenaline draining away from
him in small tremors.

Nodding, she pulled away slightly to look up at
him.  The fierce, unrecognizable cast to his
face was gone, replaced by anguished, pale
worry.  Bringing a hand to his cheek, she
smoothed the lines in his cheek and saw his gaze
soften.  It was going to be okay.  Or so she
hoped.

"What happened here?"

The steely comment drew her from the lock of
Mulder's gaze and she broke away from him,
creating some distance to answer the question. 
But Mulder beat her to it, turning with a snide,
"Are you blind?  She was attacked."

It was Laura, flanked by Eliza and a Guardsman,
whose firearm was drawn and ready.  So *that's*
how Mulder found out.  One look at Eliza's face
said it all; she was unable to contact Mulder,
but she'd done the next best thing - telephone
Laura.  Laura had the power to notify Mulder.

This was not good.  From the distaste marring
the compressed line of her mouth, Julia knew
Laura was put out that she'd had to deal with
this mess.  But Julia couldn't help but be
thankful to Eliza for putting her neck on the
line, and she gave Eliza a small smile, which
the woman returned before looking away.  The
less said by the both of them, the better, Julia
knew.  She lowered her eyes as well.

"I don't like my girls to cause trouble," Laura
was saying to Mulder.  "And I especially don't
like becoming involved."  The last was directed
at Eliza with a pointed look.  "But I have to do
something when I get a phone call like that."

Mulder was still angry, starting forward to
confront the woman.  Julia wanted to stop him,
but knew she couldn't; it wasn't her place to
intervene.  Instead, she transmitted her worry
by pretending to feel faint, placing a hand on
his arm.

He picked up on it at once, and guided her to
the couch, his reply to Laura more calm.  "And I
thank you for calling me," he said, gently
helping Julia to sit before turning back to
Laura.  "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't."  Laura bounced the demand
between Eliza and Mulder before walking out.

Eliza murmured a quick affirmative before
inching forward to whisper, "I'm sorry, Julia. 
I didn't know what else to do."

Mulder sat before Julia, perched on the coffee
table with her hands in his.  He said nothing,
his anger still slow t subside.  He searched
Julia's face, ignoring Eliza.

Julia looked away from him for a moment to
mouth, <Thank you.> She was grateful to Eliza
for eventually coming to her aid, but she would
rather the woman had just refused to leave.  The
Guardsman would have backed off to try another
day, Julia was sure of it.  Now they were in
even more trouble.

Laura was sure to report this to the Appointing
Authority.  As Julia raised nervous eyes to
Mulder, she knew he was thinking the same thing. 
Julia could very well be out of there in an hour
or two.  If a menial like the Guardsman
suspected they weren't having sex, then the
Appointing Authority was probably certain of the
fact.

"Get out."  Mulder didn't mince words, didn't
offer his thanks.

Julia heard Eliza leave, quietly closing the
door behind her.  As soon as the click faded,
Mulder questioned her again.  "Are you sure
you're okay?"

<Yes, I'm fine.> She enunciated the words
carefully, unable to free her hands from
Mulder's grip.

At that, he stood, jerking away from her to
pace, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 
Julia saw the raw skin of his knuckles and stood
as well, intending to administer first aid.  But
the sudden headrush of fading nerves finally
caught up with her; this time, it wasn't a
pretense at all.  The room whirled in a
kaleidoscope of color.

"Julia!"


**********


She awoke to the softness of a mattress beneath
her back and the coolness of a washcloth on her
brow.

"Come on... that's it... open your eyes."

Mulder voice had lost the grating sound of
leftover panic and was soothing to her ears. 
Her eyelids fluttered open to find him sitting
beside her.  He'd put her in her bed and drawn
the curtains closed against the late afternoon
sunshine.  In the meager light from the bedside
lamp, his smile was tremulous.

"You scared me for a minute," he admitted,
gently wiping her face with the blessed relief
of the wet cloth.

<What happened?> Her mind fogged momentarily
with confusion, unable to piece together the
events that led her to this situation.  What was
she doing in here?

"You fainted."

<I don't faint, Mulder.> She couldn't recall
ever fainting in her life; she was made of
sterner stuff.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," he
chuckled, obviously more at ease now that she'd
awakened.  He was in his shirt sleeves and his
tie was gone; just how long had she been out,
anyway?  "About fifteen minutes."  It was
getting to where she *hated* when he did that,
though she knew it was helpful that he could. 
"I think it was exhaustion more than anything
else."

<Exhaustion?  From what?> Her mind was blank. 
Besides the fact that she *had* apparently
passed out, she couldn't remember a thing after
Eliza came to visit...

Shit.  It came to her in a flash... the
Guardsman, Mulder's rescue and frightening veer
into madness... the way she'd given in for fear
of discovery.

Sobering, he asked, "Do you remember what
happened to you?"  Though he probably knew the
answer to that question already.  She could feel
the blood drain from her face.

<Yes.  I'm sorry, Mulder.>

"For what?  None of that was your fault.  I
shouldn't have left you alone."

<I wasn't alone.  Eliza was here.>

"And a damn good thing she was, too."  He fell
silent, shifting away from her.  Arms draped
over his knees, he slumped, squeezing the
washcloth.  In a shaky voice, he added, "It's me
who should be apologizing to you."

Sitting up, she laid a hand on his arm, forcing
him to look at her. <Why?>

Dropping the washcloth to the floor, he signed,
<I would have killed him.  Ruined everything.>

She smiled, a short, reassuring show of
confidence. <But you didn't.>

"I wanted to."  It was a fierce whisper.  "I
don't want anyone to touch you."

It was the kind of jealous statement expected
from the master of a concubine.  But Julia could
see from the fiery glow in his eyes that it
meant so much more.  He thought he'd let her
down and was already blaming himself.

Sighing, she wished he *was* jealous.  Not only
was she really tired of all the guilt, but a
small, selfish part of her wanted him to feel
what she'd always felt for him.  Despite
his drunken confession of love, he always
held what he felt for her in check.  Feeling
and speaking were two vastly different things.

And now, love was an option that would never
happen... destiny had dealt them the hand of
friendship and nothing more.  They'd come close
before, but to no avail.  Whether by something
as simple as a bee sting or something as
monumental as his abduction, it just wasn't
meant to be.

So she resigned herself to giving to him the
truth, hoping to at least absolve him of his
unnecessary self-blame.

<I would have let him do what he wanted, you
know.> It was no use lying about it; Mulder knew
just how determined she was to get them out of
there.  She steeled herself for his anger, but
was surprised when he dropped his chin and bit
his lip.

"I know."  He wasn't angry - or if he was, he
did a damned good job of hiding it, she thought. 
"It makes what I have to tell you more
difficult."

This was not good.  She tried to stop him from
standing, but he got up, shaking off her hand. 
Her legs were still rubbery and though she tried
to follow him, she needed a moment more to
recover.  Instead, she sat on the edge of the
bed and willed him to look at her.  He paced,
hands on hips, the look on his face beginning to
frighten her.

Just when she was considering throwing the lamp
at him to get his attention, he stopped.

<While you were out of it, I got a phone call.>

She didn't have to ask who'd called. <What did
he want?> Though that was a foolish question
too, it was all she could come up with.  This
conversation was rapidly becoming a chore.

<He heard what happened.  He's taking you away
from me.>

It was the answer she dreaded most, but knew was
coming. <When?>

<I tried to tell him I was happy with you, that
I wanted to keep you... >

Strength borne of desperation made her stand,
fingers moving stiffly.  <WHEN?>

"I don't know," he murmured.  "It could be
tonight, or tomorrow.  They could be on their
way right now."  Distress lined his face as he
stepped forward to grasp her arms.  "I won't let
them.  They'll have to get through me first."

<You can't stop them.> And they were so close; 
just one more day....

She knew why the Appointing Authority wanted her
gone.  So did Mulder, though he wouldn't admit
it.  But it puzzled her still - why was it so
important that they have a sexual relationship? 
It couldn't be for propagation; she knew all the
concubines underwent sterilization.  Why would
the Administration want to repopulate the world,
anyway?  They had the masters of genetic
engineering at their disposal.  When the time
came for re-seeding the world, it wouldn't be
with the bastard children of whores.  It would
be with a master race of superhumans, grown in a
pristine laboratory environment and bred to
rule.

Shaking off the questions in her own mind, she
decided that it didn't really matter what the
motivation was.  Silly as it seemed, Mulder's
father wanted him to fuck her.  And while not
the way she'd always envisioned intimacy with
Mulder, it was the only hope they had of staying
together.

She found herself weighing the options, like
choosing which lane to use to pass the slowpoke
in the middle lane.  The fast lane was naturally
more speedy, but the merge lane definitely had
less traffic.  A slower option, but Mulder had
the advantage of speech, and he'd always been a
motormouth.

Merging was the way to go... until she had him
where she wanted him, naturally.  Then it was
fast lane all the way.

Now that she'd made up her mind, she felt
rejuvenated.  Decision spurred her forward with
deliberate steps and her hands moved to the
buttons on her sweater.  Unblinking, she
fastened her gaze on his face and licked her
lips.  Don't chicken out on me, she warned with
her raised brow. 

Gulping, he choked out, "Julia?"  He knew what
was coming and she almost laughed at the 'deer
in the headlights' look plastered on his face. 
Panic blossomed for a second, that almost benign
shift of eyes he'd teased her with in Dallas
years ago.  Then, she'd thought it silly, an
attempt to make her smile.  Which she almost
had, she remembered.  But now, she recognized it
immediately.  And just as immediate was its
disappearance as he became firm.

"Stop right there."

Oh, no, that wouldn't do, she told him, slowly
shaking her head.  Her sweater fell away and
satisfaction welled up in her as his gaze fell
to her lace-covered breasts.

"We are *not* doing this."  His protest was
bordering on a weak plea as he dragged his eyes
back up to her face.

Oh, yes, we are, her fingers said, stealing to
the top button of his shirt.  One by one, they
reinforced her commitment, exposing the warm
skin beneath.  The skin that already glowed with
a fine sheen of sweat in the lamplight.

As she touched her lips to the pale scar that
disappeared beneath the white cotton, his hands
flew to the bare skin of her waist above her
jeans.  For a moment, she felt him struggle
within, seriously considering shoving her away. 
Moist beckoning crept from her open mouth as she
touched her tongue to the salty treasure before
her.  It expanded with a groan, bumping her
nose, but she moved with it, not losing contact.

She refused to give way to his misguided, noble
intentions; they were on the brink of separation
and he needed to realize this was their best
chance at staying together.

"We... we can..."  The rumble was accompanied by
a rhythmic tightening of his fingers as they dug
into the curves of her body.

Fake it?  Slowly shaking her head, she dismissed
the idea outright.  No.  The physical evidence
of their joining would reinforce any doubts
should it come to that.  A silent shudder ran
through her at the image of that slimy doctor in
the Infirmary, running his hands over her again.

Forcing the revulsion aside, she concentrated on
Mulder.   She demanded his capitulation, her
teeth closing over the pebble of his nipple.

"Shit!" he hissed, finally bringing his hands up
to grab her shoulders.

In a flash, he pulled her from him, though not
far.  She watched his eyes follow her tongue as
it snaked out to lick her lips, the taste of him
making her sway closer.

"No."  The protest was gravelly and deep, half-
hearted and anguished.  Dark red singed his
cheekbones and his eyes were mere slits in his
face.  "*No.*"

Lowering her gaze, she let her hands trail over
his stomach, her head nodding with slow
emphasis.  Yes.

"No."  Weaker, his breath now stirring the hair
that swung forward to cover her determined jaw.

Yes... as her nails rasped over the muscles of
his abdomen, those which betrayed his arousal
with tense, rippling waves above the goal in
sight...

His hands moved to her neck and she paused, the
cool buckle of his belt caught between thumb and
forefinger.  Would he stop her now?  All he had
to do was tip her chin, break her concentration
and shove her away, the rejection given fruition
with a stern look.  He'd been protesting with
his mouth, but his eyes told a different story. 
But her resolve, while strong, could not
withstand the piercing blow of a visual
rebuttal.

"No," he whispered, tilting her face up.  Her
gaze couldn't make it past his chin.  His mouth
was lax, inches from her own.  The musky heat of
their bodies drifted up and she inhaled swiftly
of the hot scent of desire, letting her lashes
lift to face the denial she was sure to see in
his face.

"No."  But it wasn't the type of negative she
expected; his gaze locked with hers as the
protest died and was reborn in the touch of his
mouth to her trembling lips.  "Let *me.*"

The words were lost in his kiss.



End Chapter Twenty