Many thanks to Char for getting me through my first NC-17 endeavor! She's a great author and a wonderful beta reader.

Resolution
By Shoshana

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Monday, July 12, 1999
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Mulder had successfully talked a delusional man into releasing his two hostages, a mother and three-year-old child. The nut had not only asked for Mulder; he had insisted that he was indeed an alien from outer space, ready to negotiate a treaty with the United States government.

After three tense hours, Mulder managed to convince Mr. Framingham that he would arrange a meeting with the President, asap. Scully sat ten yards away all morning, surrounded by dozens of other agents, outfitted in Kevlar, hanging on to every word of the bizarre conversation. Mulder had engaged the man in a dialogue about his home planet, Zirdon, without one derisive chuckle or sniggering comment.

The man let his traumatized victims go, and agents swooped down upon him like flies on honey. Mulder, exhausted as he was, made a point to go outside the mobile unit and see the little boy and his Mom. It had been so long since one of these incidents had ended well; no one had been injured, the suspect was in custody, and it was still thirty minutes shy of lunch hour.

Scully followed him out to the ambulance, where the paramedics were checking out the two survivors, not much worse for the wear physically, but still shaken by the experience. Mulder introduced himself to Mrs. Contreras and her son Michael, then pulled his partner over to the van, presenting her as well. She had been hanging back a bit, curiously watching their interaction.

She was grateful that 'Spooky' Mulder would get some positive press out of all this. She still cringed at the alien baby jokes she'd heard the other day. There were worse than those, and they were all associated with the X-Files, or their surnames, and she was sick and tired of it.

She never expected her partner to give her any credit for keeping his sanity during the negotiations. She'd only caught his eye a few times that morning, when he'd shifted around in his chair, searching for her face behind him. As if she'd ever leave his side, especially during a trial of this magnitude.

She demurely blushed when he told Mrs. Contreras that he owed half of his success to her, and quickly focused on Michael, the adorable little boy. She picked him up in her arms and spoke to him softly, telling him what a brave little boy he had been, how proud they were of him. He had managed to stay relatively quiet, despite being hungry and cranky and needing the bathroom. The criminal had let him go once, trusting that his mother dared not bolt while he had a gun to her son's head. Scully could only imagine how many therapy sessions this family was going to need to escape the fear of one morning's pain.

They left shortly thereafter and stopped for lunch at some deli downtown. Neither noticed the establishment's name above the door, neither paid too much mind to what they ordered. They were both well trained for situations like these, but it never ceased to be a drain on their resources, especially when little kids were involved.

After a quiet meal, he slid around to her side of the booth, and they held hands surreptitiously, pretending to share a dessert. The comfort found in simple tactile gestures was never so acute, never so essential to their lives. The few minutes they stole for recuperation made all the difference the rest of the day.

Back at the office, Scully found that she had some lab results to retrieve and was occupied with retesting a few items most of the afternoon. Mulder had some loose ends to attend to related to the hostage situation and then he stopped by Skinner's office to pick up some additional information related to one of their cases.

Skinner congratulated him on a job well done, poker-faced as usual, neither commenting on their conversation earlier that morning, or giving away any plans for later that afternoon. Who would have expected the A.D. to participate in the abduction of two of his very best agents, spiriting them away to Casey's Bar & Grille, quashing down any and all objections to a celebration of this morning's triumph?

Skinner would never have suspected how miserable Mulder was at this turn of events. He desperately wanted to get home, alone with Scully, rip all their clothes off, and finish what they had started earlier that day. He was very flattered by all the attention this had brought his ability as a negotiator, even though the only reason he'd been chosen for that position was his familiarity with alien abductees. He was thrilled that everything had ended so well. The last time they were in a hostage situation, Pam had died before his eyes, leaving him with a strange, uneasy sense of loss for weeks.

So, despite the good cheer and numerous beers passing before them, Mulder was anxiously plotting their escape from Casey's. He was trying to stay sober, sipping slowly at his second beer, as Scully nursed her white wine beside him. They both knew a whole different set of rules governed them in D.C. She wouldn't be sliding onto his lap in front of all their colleagues, nor would they take off into the sunset holding hands with one another.

The number of congratulators was finally dwindling, and Skinner had just left the gathering. The two agents got a ride back to the garage and Mulder raced out of the parking structure, anxious to get out of there before one more phone call or person or *anything* for that matter prevented their escape. Scully seemed to agree with that plan, chuckling at his haste, moving closer to his side with every mile they put between headquarters and his apartment.

They were going to stay there tonight, she'd already packed a bag and stuffed it in the trunk this morning. She liked the fact that he'd finally gotten a real bed. She liked to think he had gotten it just for her, but when questioned about its origin, he said he thought it was a joke gift from the Lone Gunmen.

It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now. Except getting away from all those people and noises and distractions that crowded their lives. She was as anxious to get to his apartment as he was. It had been a long, long day and she looked forward to a long, long night, making love to Mulder.

They pulled into the lot, grabbed their belongings, and raced each other to the door, then to the elevator, laughing all the way. As soon as she pressed the button for his floor, he grabbed her, kissing her, with all the power of repressed, pent up emotions.

They managed to open his door and secure the deadbolt behind them, dropping everything else in the foyer area, including most of their clothes. With only undergarments remaining, and despite ineffectual protests, he easily carried her to the bedroom, gently depositing her on a freshly made bed.

They kissed, hands wandering, pulling off the rest of their clothing, taking time to reacquaint themselves with one another. They had been interrupted this morning, and had placed a mental bookmark between the pages of their relationship, remembering just how far they had come, and how far they wanted to go that evening.

The pace was more frantic now, nothing like this morning. They were fully awake, loosened up by what little alcohol they'd drunk, and finally, finally alone, after a tension-filled day. He swarmed over her, paying equal attention to her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her breasts. She reciprocated, kissing him with total abandon, grasping his erection, sliding her hand up and down its silky hardness, eliciting moans of pleasure from her partner.

He gently removed her hand from his penis, placing it by her side, and kissed her once, but good. He trailed kisses down her body, coming to rest on her stomach, stroking her thighs with infinite care. He strew kisses between her legs, and she reached down to tangle her hands in his hair. He came closer, closer, then finally immersed himself in the folds of her labia.

She thrust up against him, already so close to orgasm that it brought her nearer and nearer, till she cried out his name, along with numerous exclamations of 'Oh, God, Oh God.' He travelled back up her body, seizing her lips, letting her taste herself in a deep, loving kiss. She found him, guided him towards her, and they moved in slow motion, grasping hold of each other's hands, looking into one another's eyes.

He tried to draw out the moment, carefully entering her, slowly filling her, all too aware that he might be too large. But he wasn't, he easily slid into her, enticing her to gasp, pulling him back down to her for more wet and passionate kisses. They felt each other smile, rubbing cheeks against chests, as he moved inside her, slowly, steadily, setting a rhythm. She responded to his easy pace, wrapping legs around thighs, matching thrusts with her own.

He increased his pace, encouraged by her lithe movements beneath him, positive that he was doing her no harm. She gripped him tightly, whispering his name, speaking his name, finally shouting his name, as she came closer and closer to orgasm. He kissed her again, tongues meeting, teeth nipping, at each other's swollen lips.

Clutching him frantically, she sang his name softly, trembling, contracting, tightening around him, coming to orgasm within gentle, loving arms. He followed suit, releasing himself, filling her with himself, then holding her close, close to his rapidly beating heart.

He rolled them over on the bed, pulling her on top, keeping them united, joined as one. She smiled at him, caressing him, his hair, his face, his broad shoulders. She reached up to kiss him once more, and he smiled back at her sweetly, so happy, so fulfilled by the promise of their love.

Exhaustion finally overcame them, and she slid off his thighs, snuggling into the pillow of his chest. He idly combed her hair, sweeping it off her forehead, laying numerous small kisses everywhere he could. She wrapped one arm around his waist, the other beneath him, twining her legs around his as far as they would go.

They lay there, happy, peaceful, close as they could be, caressing one another with roving, wayward hands, soothing one another to sleep.

fin

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