Testosterone Subject
By Shoshana

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September 1999, a Monday morning
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In retrospect, the case started out as any other one. Scully and I sat around the office bouncing ideas back and forth, taking wild guesses at the identity of the killer, hypothesizing about his/her murderous intent. I was just looking the file over one more time when Scully walked in at 8:30 a.m.

"Hi, Scully. Beat you in this morning," I said proudly.

"Well, Mulder, it's not hard to achieve when you get up at 5:00 a.m. on a regular basis. Thank God you didn't feel the impulse to call me till 6:00 a.m.," she retorted.

"Ah, Scully. I just wanted to be your Monday morning wake-up call..."

"Exactly. That's why I hung up immediately and ignored all subsequent calls. Did you still have something to tell me, Mulder?"

"No," I pouted.

Didn't she realize how much I craved the sound of her voice all weekend? I'd finally given in and called her at 6, ready with a contrived excuse for waking her so early. I was going to ask her to pick up something at the lab, but I never got to use my white lie; she was on to me from word one. She has a certain Scully radar, able to detect Mulder bullshit, anytime, anyday. And this morning was no exception. I was surprised that she didn't called back, like she usually would. But maybe she's just getting too pissed about Monday morning phone calls anymore. I slumped lower in my chair and frowned in earnest.

"Mulder, you're not getting any sympathy from me that way. Monday morning is for catching up on those last few minutes of shut-eye. Not for 6:00 a.m. wake up calls from my impatient partner. My snooze bar and I get along very well without you."

Yeah, I guess you get along fine without me, Scully. Wish I could persuade you otherwise. I knew she didn't really mean that she didn't need or want my friendship. I just wish she felt the same urgency I did to reconnect with her after a weekend alone.

It hadn't been such a bad weekend. I'd played some basketball Friday night. Visited the guys on Saturday. Had dinner with them and then I rented some of those movies that I don't really rent. Had a few beers, thought about Scully the rest of the evening and passed out on the couch. Woke up Sunday, read the paper, thought about Scully. Went for a long, grueling run. Got rained on. Stopped for groceries and thought about Scully. Got a pizza, watched a movie and thought about Scully. Did the laundry, read over some files and fell asleep thinking about Scully. If she wasn't the center of my universe, I didn't know what else was. And I couldn't even let her know.

"Mulder? You with me?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, Scully. Monday morning zone out."

"What do we got today?"

"A case that Skinner sent down late Friday afternoon and I didn't get a chance to read till over the weekend. Your medical expertise will definitely be an asset on this one. Three young college students at the University of New Hampshire in Durham have died. All of massive testosterone poisoning. Ten times the suggested dosage. A dosage of 600 mg. usually maintains plasma testosterone levels within the normal physiological range for four to five months. These guys had 6000 mg. in their bloodstream."

"Heart attack?" she supposed.

"Yes. Apparently this is why middle aged and elderly males with angina should receive androgen therapy only under careful supervision. Excessive sexual stimulation, I guess."

I wasn't trying to sound crass, but it fell out of my mouth that way. I was just repeating what I'd read in an internet article before she came in to work. She interrupted me as I floundered around for words, humorous or otherwise.

"So, Mulder? Do you have a preliminary theory?" Her facial expression conveyed solemnity. Scully doesn't like to make light of cold-blooded murder, whatever the cause.

"Not really. You'll be able to autopsy the latest victim. They didn't link them all together till the third one was found. The regular Coroner was on vacation for the second one and his assistant did that autopsy. For some reason, even with the bizarre nature of the poisoning, they didn't discuss it till the third victim was brought in and the Coroner recognized the connection."

"So, do you think the murderer is another student? A man, a woman?"

"Can't tell. But a young woman could inject someone, I suppose. I think you'll find some evidence of Rohypnol in the victim's system. Or something similar, I suppose."

"So... when do we leave?" She seemed eager to get out into the field and I, for one, was happy. We'd been home for two weeks straight, maybe an all time record for us. I love going out on the road with Scully... because, well, there's just more of Scully that way. My weekends had been lonely enough without her. At least when we were on a case we stayed until we finished, weekends be damned.

"This afternoon, if that's all right with you." She nodded her approval. "We fly into Concord and drive to Durham. Bring your sweaters, Scully. It may get cold at night, even in September."

"Yes, Mulder. I am well aware of the early onset of fall weather in New England."

God, why is she so testy today? Maybe it's her p... don't go there, Mulder. You're wading in shit already.

"You want to drive?"

"Sure, I'll pick you up around three. Flight leaves around 4:30. Plenty of time to find a romance novel for the trip, Scully." I smiled broadly, trying to get a positive reaction from her.

She half-smiled and said, "And you, Mulder, you can pick up the latest magazine that's not really yours..."

I guess she wasn't really mad at me after all, because the rest of the morning passed pleasantly enough. She read through the case file, I searched the internet and Medline for more information. She let me buy her lunch around the corner and we chatted about our weekend activities.

She'd gone over to her Mom's house for dinner Sunday and spent the whole day at the mall with her godson on Saturday. At least she wasn't dating anyone. At least I didn't have to endure that. I wanted to tell her how I felt, but the time never felt right. She seemed distant, fading from me at times. My worst fear was that she would leave altogether if I told her. Maybe that was her worst fear, too and she didn't want to act on her own feelings.

I thought I knew how she felt about me last spring. Even last summer, we'd been getting along great. We'd be out on cases, arguing the facts, but not engaged in a all-out war with one another. Or occasionally we'd spent frivolous time together at a Bureau softball game and just recently, a Wizards game. She'd even had me over her Mom's house for dinner, twice.

I'd get different vibes from her day to day. Sometimes she seemed to crave my company, hanging around after I'd told her she should pack up and go home for the day. Sometimes it seemed that she couldn't leave my presence fast enough, escaping me at the first opportunity.

I never knew what to expect some days and I was damned if I used my profiling skills to figure out her moods. If she ever got an inkling I was doing that, it was all over for me. She'd never let me forget that I wasn't supposed to subject my partner, my friend to intense psychological scrutiny. For whatever purpose, however selfless or high-minded.

I finally got it through my thick head that Scully was just as lonely as I was. She needed my company sometimes, as I did hers. The times she fled me, those were the times that she realized just how close we were, how much we cared about each other. I knew what it was like to have to shake off those feelings, to deny our bond. I used to do it on a regular basis, chastising myself for wishing and hoping for more than I'd ever be able to get out of our relationship.

But I became a hopeful optimist. Just a feeling in my gut that things would work out the way I wanted them to. A hunch, another crazy theory. Scully was in love with me. I knew it and she wouldn't be able to run from me forever. Something would happen, something would end our mating dance in a big way. I just wished I knew what it was going to be.

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Later that evening, Days Inn, Dover, New Hampshire
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I knocked on the doorway between our rooms, heard Scully say "Yup," and walked over to the functional desk that she was using as a home for her laptop. She was hunched over it, trying to pull up more medical information from Medline. I had only been able to find so much and she was trying every search avenue available.

"Bet you're anxious to get to the Coroner's office, Scully."

"Oh, no more than usual. It's an interesting case, but I don't expect too many surprises this time. Seen one dead body, seen 'em all."

"How callous of you, Ms. Scully! What would your colleagues think?"

"They'd probably make the same bad joke and more. Humor is the only way to make it through some autopsies. I would never say anything if a family member were around though. You know that."

"I know. I was just kidding anyway. Say, Scully, I'm going out for a run. I should be back before ten. I just don't want you to think I'm ditching you, O.K.?"

"O.K. I just have a few more searches to do and then I'm going to read. Make sure you poke your head over here when you get back. I'd like to know you're alright."

She smiled at me and I stood stock still, caught by the affection in her eyes. I almost forgot about my run, lost in her gaze. Jeez, what a time to take off. I wanted to stay there and talk to her, do anything she wanted me to do with her. But I knew the mood wouldn't last. Or maybe I was too afraid to find out. So I patted her on the shoulder and left the motel through my room.

I ran leisurely at first, not sure of where I was going, watching for signs of a public park. I could run fast on the way back, right now I just wanted to get my muscles warm. I found a nice little park and sat down on a bench, breathing hard from the exertion. Thirty-eight, I'm going to be thirty-eight. I'll have to slow down someday. I'll either be dead or behind a desk by the time I'm fifty.

I wished I could just do it. I wished I could just ask Scully to marry me and that would eliminate all the preliminary garbage that couples have to go through. We didn't need to go through that, we already loved and trusted one another. How could I spend any more time with her than I do now? Oops, stupid question. You want to spend every minute of the day with her, Mulder. You can't stand to be apart from her on weekends. You want to hold her in your arms all night, wake up with her red hair strewn across the pillow, her little hands on your chest...

Ah, it's nice to get caught in a daydream. I just wished I could make it a reality. Maybe she wants that preliminary stuff. Maybe I need to ask her out, formally. It seems so silly but I bet she'd like that. The worst that can happen is she'll say no. No, the worst that can happen is she'll laugh in your face and say no.

Coward. Go back to that motel room and ask her to dinner tomorrow night. The hell with being on a case. We're always on a goddamn case. Might as well take her somewhere nice here, where we can be unobserved, private. That might actually make her feel more secure, that we won't be bumping into any Federal Agents at the salad bar.

My reverie was winding down and I was stretching my limbs against the bench, getting ready to run back fast. I didn't have my weapon. I didn't know why not. I guess New Hampshire didn't strike me as a big crime center. But I should have known something was going to happen. Because it did. In a big way.

I knew there was someone behind me immediately. But my reflexes were just not quick enough and whoever it was managed to depress the plunger of the hypodermic needle into my thigh. I whipped around and before I could grab a hold of them, they were gone. I pulled the needle out, thankful that most of the liquid remained within its transparent cylinder. I carefully wrapped my hooded sweatshirt around it, holding it gingerly so I wouldn't stick myself.

The attacker was a couple inches shorter than me, dressed in black, with a black ski mask over their head. They had to have known who I was. This wasn't a random strike. I didn't fit the age group for the other victims. I'd like to think that I look as young as an undergraduate, but I'd be kidding myself. I looked my age and then some, especiallly when life and the imminent destruction of the planet would get me down.

I realized I had to get back to Scully and fast. Get her opinion on how much of the drug had made it into my bloodstream. I only hoped that it was what I thought it was. I could deal with that. If it was something else, something more toxic in small quantities, I was a dead man.

I ran all the way back and opened my door breathlessly. I knocked on her door and opened it without her response, desperate to tell her what had happened. She was sitting up against the headboard, reading a medical journal.

I fell to my knees, cramping through the middle of my gut. My head was killing me now, probably from running so hard, not from the drug in my system. Scully watched in shock for several seconds and then rushed to my side, making me lie down on the carpeting.

"Mulder, Mulder! What is it?! What happened?"

I groaned loudly as my stomach protested more and managed to rasp out, "Someone attacked me. Hypodermic. In the sweatshirt. On my bed. Careful."

I tried to stretch out, but the cramps were overwhelming and I pulled myself into a fetal position, hands glued to my abdomen.

Scully ran to the other room and retrieved the piece of clothing. She cautiously pulled it apart on the bed, scrutinizing the color and viscosity of the drug inside the plunger. She eyed it suspiciously as I watched her in horror, clutching to my side.

"You're lucky, Mulder. I don't think a lot got into you. I'm not completely sure this is testosterone enathate, but it certainly would be a good guess."

She knelt down beside me, trying to get me to uncurl. She sat down next to me and stroked the hair off my brow as I slowly extended my legs and let her put my head in her lap.

"Mulder, we have to go to the hospital," she said, looking down at my face, still clenched in agony.

"No! The cramps are from running too fast. I'm sure of that. And what the hell are you going to tell them, Scully? That your damn fool partner got shot up by a murderer in the park? With male hormones?"

"Shh, shh. Relax, Mulder."

She was still touching me gently, cradling my head between her thighs. Thighs. Why does the thought of Scully's thighs suddenly dull the pain in your stomach? Oh, God. How fast does this shit work? I run the list of side effects through my mind: water retention, baldness, acne, aggressive behavior... Oh, God.

"We can go get a blood test. They don't have to know what it's for. I can make something up, something plausible. You've got to relax, Mulder. Calm down and then we'll go to the hospital."

Her touch was inflaming me, I could smell her as I reclined on her lap. Yes, that smell. The one closest to my face. I must be imagining that. My sense of smell can't be that heightened. It must just be a memory. A memory of some other time with a woman, with my head between her thighs... oh, no... Oh, God. I can't tell her this. I can't do this. What am I going to do?

"Mulder? What's wrong?"

I was getting the biggest hard-on I'd had in months and I couldn't seem to move a muscle, out of fear, out of deference to Scully. If I got up, she'd notice it. If I didn't get up, I might not be able to control my actions. I was getting hornier by the minute as I lay there beside her. She was so concerned about my welfare that she'd begun to stroke my back, sending chills up my spine. How could she not know? She's a doctor, she must know. Doesn't she?

"Shh, shhh. Just lay still. We have time. Just get it together and then we'll go."

Finally, I couldn't take another minute in her lap. I struggled to my knees and vaulted for her bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I locked it and collapsed on my ass, my back up against the plywood.

"Mulder, Mulder! Open the door! Open the door, now!"

She pounded on the door, shaking it, sending shockwaves through my body. She finally gave up that tactic and I heard her slide down to the floor on the other side of the door.

"Scully?" I said, my voice worn out and trembling.

"Yes...," she said softly.

She was resigned to this now. The knowledge must have struck her like a locomotive. She must have kicked herself for not realizing the circumstances immediately, that her soft and gentle touch was exacerbating my 'condition'. If so little had gotten into my bloodstream, there must have been one hell of a concentrated dose in that needle. And the scant amount that had been injected was now wreaking havoc with my neural network.

I knew what I had to do. I was going to jack off for the next umpteen hours in this little tiled bathroom with nothing to think of nor want for other than my Scully. And I couldn't fucking tell her that. I was too embarrassed to tell her *that*. I was going to ask her to go, lock herself in the other room, stay away from me.

The last thing I wanted to do was lose it, lose it big time and attack my partner. It would not only be rape, it would be the last thing I'd want to do to the woman I love. It wouldn't be making love, it would be fucking. Fucking is not making love. Making love is not fucking. I was fucking going insane and I didn't know what to say.

"Mulder?"

"Yes."

"Are you O.K.?"

"Yes, Scully. But, I think I need some privacy right now. Do you think you could go into the other room? And lock the door, too. Please."

"O.K., Mulder. whatever, you say. As long as you're O.K. Drink some water, alright?"

"I will. Scully?"

"Yes?"

"You mean a lot to me."

I heard a soft gasp on the other side of the door and felt a gentle shove against my behind. She was slipping her fingers underneath the edge of the door, seeking mine out. I moved over and grasped them between both my hands, stroking them tenderly. The joy I took in her gesture, laden with meaning for both of us, distracted me, enraptured me.

My sexual discomfort subsided as I held her hand tight, envisioning the wonderful woman on the other side of the door, wondering if tears fell from her eyes, as they fell from my own. There was nothing more beautiful than this now, nothing that could spoil our connection, our bond. I needn't have worried. She was mine. For all time.

"Mulder?" It was no more than a whisper through the door.

"Yes, Scully." My sweetheart, my love.

"You mean a lot to me, too."

"I know."

"I'll be next door, alright?"

"Alright."

I squeezed her hand gently one last time, reluctantly disentangling our fingers. I heard a faint sniffle on the other side, echoed by my own snotty nose. I pawed at my eyes, wiping away what moisture hadn't trickled down my flushed cheeks, streams of salt going nowhere.

I didn't even feel like jacking off now. I wished I could hold her in my arms, make love to her slow and easy, soft and gently. I wished we could lie in bed all night, whispering our love to one another, smoothing our hands over each other. I wished, I wished, I wished.

At least now, I had hope. Hope that our love would become a reality, that we wouldn't have to lie to one another anymore. If I could just make it through this, this abominable night, everything else would fall in place. We were meant to be, nothing was going to prevent that, not even this.

I laid my head against the cool tile floor, cataloguing my physiological reactions to the drug. Maybe it was worthless information, irrelevant to the case, but I was going to try and garner all the information I could from this experience. My body was so hyper, so sexually excited. Not so my mind. My mind was elsewhere, cherishing the woman next door.

I wondered how long it would be till the drug wore off and whether it had reached its peak level yet. How many times would my body demand ejaculation before I could rest easy? Before it would be safe to come out of this damn fluorescent prison?

I better make damn sure I don't hurt Scully. I better handcuff myself to the bed so I can't molest her. Hey, that's a thought. I'll finish in here, take a shower, then handcuff myself to her bed. She's not sleeping there tonight anyway. This way, I can try to get some sleep. We still have a job to do and I have to get three, four hours of sleep. That should be fine.

I got some welcome relief, showered, and cautiously opened the bathroom door. I heard nothing from my room, so I assumed Scully had fallen asleep. I tried the connecting door, just in case. Satisfied that it was locked, I found Scully's cuffs and secured myself to the bed, key well within reach. I laid down on the pillow, relaxing for the first time in hours.

Minutes later, I heard the soft click of the door. Oh, shit, Scully. Don't look in on me. Don't make sure I'm alright. I opened my eyes and saw her standing in the moonlight, silhouetted against the door.

She had a short robe on, a silk one, I think. And in the dim illumination streaming through the blinds I could see her face. The playful expression on her face. She beamed at me as brightly as halogen headlights, eyes fixed on the arm above my head.

Oh, God, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Then again... maybe it was.

Scully padded softly over to my side of the bed, mischief evident in her eyes. She looked like a fairy child, like an enchantress from the deep woods. I could imagine her floating out of the forests of New Hampshire, intruding on me during my restless sleep. She looked so beautiful my breath caught in my chest, relieved only partially by a succession of ragged pants, brought on by her proximity to the bed.

She smiled and picked up the key to the handcuffs, tossing it up and down in her hand. Her expression had transformed from all innocence to lasciviousness, wanton, unbridled lechery. My God, did she poke her finger on that hypodermic needle? Was she affected too?

With great ceremony, she flung the key across the room, watching it soar with a sly grin on her face.

"We won't be needing that till morning, Mulder. I'm going to put you out of your misery."

Oh, God.

fin

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