Scar Revision
By Shoshana

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October 1999
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Scully heard the key turning in the lock of her front door, looked up from her paperback novel, listened for Mulder's footsteps. She expected him tonight, though not quite this early. She'd left the office at three, telling him she had a dentist's appointment. She'd been too embarrassed by her true purpose, concealing it from him. She was sure he had found out by now.

She sat stiffly against the headboard, wearing turquoise cotton pajamas, newly purchased today. She'd needed a boost to her ego after the trip to the plastic surgeon. For the first time since January, she'd seriously considered corrective surgery on her abdominal scar.

She didn't consider herself particularly vain, and Lord knows, there were other parts of her body that had taken a beating from her life as a Federal Agent. But it had begun to annoy her that she could only wear one-piece bathing suits this summer. And she'd felt self-conscious about it. Every time she disrobed in front of another person, including doctors, nurses, her own mother, and even once... incredibly enough... in front of her own partner in a decontamination shower last February.

Not that he should have been looking. Not that he was able to see the scar at all. It was the feeling that it was there, waiting to be seen. If for some good reason she were to shed her clothes for him in some other, more intimate setting, it would be nice if it wasn't so noticeable.

Nine months was an acceptable waiting period. Long enough for her wound to heal thoroughly. She'd looked into the various methods of scar revision, and she'd seen the doctor today. She still hadn't decided whether to go through with his recommendations. She needed to consider them; she needed to consider her motives for going through with this self-indulgent, albeit minor surgery.

She didn't fully expect to be initiating any sexual trysts with Mulder anytime soon. But the desire was there. And she could no longer hide it. Not from him, not from herself, though not a single word of acknowledgement had passed between them.

The scar made her feel ugly, imperfect. Which was odd, since none of her other imperfections, be they souvenirs from childhood accidents or on-the-job mishaps, affected her in quite the same way. It was a constant reminder of Fellig's legacy to her. Not that she totally believed in his power to shield her from the hand of death itself. She found that fantasy too implausible and preferred to think of herself as lucky, just damned lucky.

Maybe his dying words had given her the will to live. Maybe her love of life, her unfinished business here on earth, had kept her from succumbing to the gunshot wound. In the moments immediately after she was shot, when she was on the floor, next to Fellig, it was during those moments that she thought of Mulder, of what he would do if he lost her. She should have thought of her mother, her brothers, but she could only think of her closest friend, the man who should have been with her.

She had recovered, quickly, almost miraculously so. He had helped her during her convalescence, assisted by her Mom's home cooking and frequent visits. It was comforting to have him around, as it always had been. They hadn't even discussed his presence beside her. It was assumed he'd be around to care for her. He'd been beside her, with her, like he'd been for their last six turbulent years together.

The breach between them, the horrible sniping arguments of February, were just a memory now. They had rebuilt their friendship after they got the X-Files back, despite personal and professional disagreements, despite all common sense. It was becoming second nature to forgive and forget and she knew all too well why.

She'd been able to disguise her love for him till spring. Her need for him had been neatly suppressed, sublimated by professionalism, by self-control. But that self-control had shattered with the Padgett case. After that, all bets were off. She'd completely lost her cool, she'd come apart. It had taken weeks to fully recover, to fully restore equilibrium to her life.

When she had, when she finally felt the restoration of her body, as well as her soul, Mulder was waiting for her. He'd been with her all the time, whenever she needed him, whenever she wanted him. And when he wasn't welcome, when she needed time to herself, he'd retreated, with patience, with love, with devotion in his hazel eyes.

Nine months had now passed. She'd finally gone to that plastic surgeon. She'd finally asked all the right questions, found out every option available to her. The only roadblock was time. She'd need to be in town a little more, at least a little more than they'd been in the last few weeks. A flurry of out-of-town cases had taken them across country several times over and there was no end in sight.

No use disguising the nature of her 'ailment'. He'd go mad with curiosity, find out some way, somehow. Perhaps through her mother, perhaps through his resourceful hacker friends; there was no doubt he'd discover what she'd requested time off for. It should bother her; that he would, that he could, snoop so effectively into her life. But it didn't and she could no more explain that than she could explain the hold he had on her heart.

After letting himself in, he shed his trenchcoat on a kitchen chair. He'd been worried about her all day. He hadn't believed for one minute she was going to the dentist. She never got that nervous for routine check-ups. And then the plastic surgeon's office had called, asking for her social security number.

He hadn't given it a thought when he rattled it off to the secretary. Of course, he knew it by heart, as she knew his. And he probably shouldn't have acted as her surrogate husband, shouldn't have given out personal information so readily. Especially when he knew something was bothering her, something that had her sneaking off to a plastic surgeon's office in the middle of their workday.

He'd been delayed till now. He'd had some prior appointments in the early evening; he had promised the Gunmen he'd stop by at eight. Eight became nine became ten, and he'd finally given in to his impulse to see her.

She couldn't hide from him anymore. He'd known her too long, he knew her too well. Stealing away to a plastic surgeon, for God's sake. What the hell was he supposed to think? He guessed he wasn't supposed to think about it at all, since she'd used subterfuge to escape him. Well, the truth would out. He'd confess to handing over her social security number to some stranger on the phone if she'd tell him just what she'd been doing there all afternoon.

He threw his suit jacket over the chair by the hallway, slipping his shoes off impulsively. He hadn't been home yet to change and his patience with his bureau attire had waned. He discarded his gun and holster, placing them on the end table. That done, he unknotted the damn tie, throwing it somewhere behind him. He'd spend the night on her couch. She wouldn't object. He hoped not.

She listened attentively to his simple, everyday movements in the other room, pleased that he felt welcome here tonight. She wanted to talk to him, tell him about the time she was going to take off. How convenient that he'd chosen this evening for one of his night time visits. They'd been more and more frequent this summer, often ending with him crashed on her couch. Other than some mild innuendo, he'd never pressured her for more than a goodnight kiss, on the cheek, course.

She knew she'd give him more than that if he asked, but prided herself on her restraint so far. She wouldn't be the one to disrupt their renewed, healthier friendship. She wouldn't be the aggressor in this contest of wit and will. Sooner or later he'd come to her, come to her as a lover. And a friend. And everything else she needed from him. She was certain of this. She would wait till then.

He stood in the doorway now, smiling at her, as she unhooked her wire rims and set them on her nightstand.

"Mulder, what brings you to my bedroom door?"

"You're awfully nonchalant about my dropping in unannounced, Scully," he said, amused by her light tone.

"Well, maybe I'm just getting used to it," she said, dryly.

"Not gonna throw me out, are you?" She never would, she never did. At least, not lately.

"No. I have something to discuss with you. Stop holding up the doorway and sit down over here."

She motioned to the other side of her bed, where the covers were undisturbed. She crossed her legs underneath the blankets she'd been sitting under and straightened her back against the headboard. He couldn't help but observe how pretty she looked in that color. Turquoise suited her, he'd never seen her wear it before.

She noticed he was still dressed for the office, sans jacket, sans tie, sans shoes. She guessed he meant to sleep on her couch tonight. She was consoled by that somehow, by his simple, innocent faith that she wouldn't reject him out of hand.

Where had unsympathetic, emotionally hardened Dana Scully escaped to? Had she been that person last year, and the year before? Had she refused his help, his company, so many times before because she thought it wise, or because she was afraid to involve herself in a venture that she supposed could only end badly?

She'd accepted him this year. She'd had to. And other than their rift in February (which now seemed like an anomaly), they'd forged ahead, rebuilding love and trust in one another. She wasn't ready to calculate the depth of that love, even now, even after she felt his eyes on her constantly.

She wasn't ready to measure out their trust, either. This was one time she was willing to go with a feeling, become Mulder for a millisecond and go with it. Just like in baseball. Warm feelings washed over her as she remembered their night at the ball field, a fitting precedent for tonight's casual conversation.

"So, Scully... before you tell me yours, I better tell you mine. The doctor's office called today and asked for your social security number," he said, tentatively.

"And... did you give it to them?" She sounded only anxious, not irritated.

"Yeah. I really should have thought twice, but I did. You know me, trust no one in theory... trust everyone in practice. I should have waited. It was unfair of me and probably not a very smart move on my part."

"Well, Mulder, It wasn't some nefarious conspirator trying to get information on me. It really was my doctor's office."

"But not your dentist." He looked over at her with a grin, trying to make light of the situation.

"No, it wasn't. I told you a little white lie so I could have a little zone of privacy today. But I was going to tell you what I was up to anyway. I... I want to take a little time off to have some minor surgery."

"What? Are you all right?" He seemed genuinely concerned, still unsure why she needed *any* sort of surgery.

"Yes, Mulder. Stop worrying about me! It has nothing to do with anything scary... I just want to have a little cosmetic surgery."

"Where?"

"On the scar... from the gunshot wound last January. I... this is why I didn't tell you where I was going, Mulder. I feel silly worrying about this."

"It's not silly if it bothers you."

"Well, despite your psychological assessment, Mulder," she said around a smile, "I feel a little frivolous about this. Like I really should just be glad I survived the accident."

"I still find it hard to see as an accident, you know that, Scully."

"I know. But Ritter never intended to hurt me, Mulder. You have to forgive him. For my sake, at least."

He took her hand and squeezed it gently, but firmly. "For you, I will. But I'll never let them separate us again, Scully. I want you to have someone you can trust to back you up. I won't let them take that away from you again."

The intensity of his words were nothing new to her, but they resonated fully in her heart tonight. More confirmation of how he felt about her, more evidence that she could not ignore. She swallowed the lump in her throat and returned to what she had intended to tell him before getting sidetracked.

"Well, anyway, I'm not sure exactly what route I'm going... I still have to discuss this with the plastic surgeon... there are several methods of smoothing out scar tissue. You know, surgically... or with lasers. I need to do a little more research and then decide. Either way, I should probably be in town for at least five consecutive days."

"So, don't schedule any travel for that week, right?"

"Yeah," she said sheepishly, looking and feeling more self-conscious now than before.

"Scully..." He tipped her head up with one forefinger, forcing her to look him in the eye. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. You're entitled to feel comfortable in your own skin. And if that means getting some 'frivolous' surgery, I'm all for it. I'll take you to all your appointments, okay?"

"You don't have to..."

"Yes, I do. I'm your friend. I want to."

She crawled over to give him a hug, a brief one, staying within the boundaries of their relationship. But when she pulled away from him, he resisted, holding her in his arms a little longer, a little closer than she expected.

She wasn't surprised by that. Sooner or later she expected something like this would happen. That they would progress from friends to lovers in the blink of an eye. What surprised her now was the question he asked, asked while he gently nuzzled her hair and held her affectionately against his chest.

"Can I see it?"

"Uh, what, Mulder?" She was distracted by the warmth of him, the sweet smell of leftover cologne, the way he was stroking her hair as she nestled in his chest.

"The scar."

She picked her head up in one swift motion and looked at him intently. She couldn't help but smile when she saw apprehension in his eyes. He was probably afraid he'd offended her and was struggling with an apology.

He couldn't think clearly now. He was still holding her in his arms, which she clearly wasn't resisting. But he felt like an ass for overstepping his bounds.

"Sorry, shouldn't have, didn't mean to ask that..."

"Hey, don't worry. I'd be curious too, Mulder." She laid her head back against his chest, running her hands over his lower back in a soothing, steady motion.

"You're not angry," he said, stroking her cheek with the pad of his right thumb.

"No." She picked her head back up, looking at him while she spoke. "You're as curious as a child, sometimes, Mulder. I should have predicted you'd ask. And to tell the truth, I don't see any reason I shouldn't play 'show and tell' with you. After all, I showed you my mosquito bites seven years ago..."

She looked up at him fondly and in turn, he relaxed against her, exhaling the breath he'd been holding. He kissed her cheek, then rubbed his own against her soft forehead.

"That *did* surprise me, you know that, Scully? I'd only known you a few days... and you disrobed in my motel room. If you hadn't been so upset about the marks... I would have taken it somewhat differently..."

"I'm glad you didn't. I would have left you. I didn't want to get involved with any more co-workers after Jack. So your resolve was a wise decision. I'm still here with you, seven years later..."

She placed her hands on his flushed cheeks, cupping them, just as he had done, over a year ago. The familiar gesture was not lost on him and he lowered his lips to hers for a tender, gentle kiss. The next one lasted a little longer, penetrated a little deeper, and had all the passion they'd imagined with one another.

Breathless, she released herself from his arms and moved back up to the head of bed, leaning against her bed pillows. He looked at her askance, questioning her, seeking her approval.

"Don't be alarmed, Mulder. I'm not throwing you out... Come over here... I want to show you that scar."

"Scully, you don't have to... we don't have to..."

"Shut up, Mulder. I'm not doing a strip tease here. I just want to show you. Since you asked."

She smiled at him, shyly easing her pajamas down, just enough to reveal the scar. He walked around to her side of the bed and sat down next to her, placing one hand on each side of her hips. He leaned over to kiss her once on the lips, then turned his attention to the area she had disclosed. Glancing up at her once, seeking permission and receiving it in her eyes, he came closer, stroking the length of the incision with the fingers of one hand.

"Scully, it's not that bad."

"You think?"

"I know. You don't need to erase it. You're beautiful with or without it."

"You're just saying that. You're humoring me so you can get laid tonight."

She was giggling now, vibrating his hands as they rested on her abdomen. He laughed, too, reaching one hand up to caress her cheek.

"No, Scully. I'm not trying to seduce you..." She made a fake pouty face and he grinned back at her, shaking with laughter.

"No shit." He leaned over to give her another quick kiss.

"We've got plenty of time for that. All our lives. If you'll have me."

She was speechless. This was akin to a marriage proposal in her mind, a declaration of love that left her dizzy with happiness. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly, then bringing it up to her lips for a kiss.

He released her hand, then surprised her, dipping down to her bare tummy, sprinkling gentle kisses along the puckered line of the scar. He pulled closer to her, resting against her lower body, arms circling her hips in one complete, possessive embrace.

She gasped softly, affected by his sweet, consoling gesture, by the feel of his soft brown hair, his trace of a beard against her. She caressed his shoulders, relishing the feel of them through his cotton dress shirt.

"Scully?" He was mumbling into her belly.

"Yes," she said, a laugh rolling through her.

"You smell very, very good."

This prompted an earthquake of a laugh, quivering through her whole body. He savored her laughter, kissing her tummy as she shook against him. He lifted himself to a sitting position, pulling her small body onto his lap, capturing her lips with his.

He broke the kiss and held her chin in his hand, stroking her jaw with his thumb.

"Scully..."

"Yes..."

"I'm trying to seduce you..."

"For the rest of our lives?"

"Yes..."

"Come on, G-man, let's get started now..."

fin

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