Epiphany by agent myers Rating: NC-17, but it's not real dirty Keywords: DRR Summary: "You've got to tell her, John." Spoilers: Season 9, and all DRR-related eps like "John Doe", "4-D", and "Audrey Pauley". Disclaimer: They're not mine. Duh. Feedback: I live for it. tred2@yahoo.com Archive: Just ask me. All individuals and archives that I have previously given permission to are welcome to it. Author's Notes: At the end. Recommended listening: "Epiphany" by Staind, "Hanging By a Moment" by Lifehouse, "Glycerin" by Bush There she goes. I stand on the sidewalk and watch her window until the lights came on. Then I watch for a few more minutes. Mentally, I curse myself. I could be up there right now with Monica. I could be telling her everything that I've felt from day one. I saw the disappointment on her face when we said goodnight. And then, when she got to the top of the stairs, how she turned around, hoping that I would say what she knew I wanted to say. But I didn't. I let her walk into the building. With nothing left to do, I get back in my truck and pull out into the street. I want to turn around, but I'd look pretty foolish going back there now, wouldn't I? I think about Monica, lying there in that hospital bed. Could she hear what I was saying to her? Could she feel me touching her hand? I was so bold, spilling my heart's deepest secrets as she lay there, unconscious. Audrey called me on it...I love her. I remember saying that I wish I could talk to her, I wish that I could tell her. <> But given the chance, I didn't tell her a thing. I don't even deserve her. I throw my keys on the table as I walk in the door. I toss my jacket over the back of the couch and go to the refrigerator for a beer. I take it with me to the couch, and flop down like a miserable sack of potatoes. And I think. I think about all my mistakes. <> Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, I hear someone knocking at the front door. I jump up, beer in hand, and rush to the door, thinking that it just might be Monica. I swing the door open, and the elation that was supposed to be for Monica slips from my expression. It's Scully. "Agent Scully." She smiles slightly, and I ask her to come in. "What brings you by?" I ask her, making an attempt at cheerfulness. "I...I wanna talk to you about something." She says. She's uncomfortable, I instantly notice. "Okay." I say. "Can I get you a drink? Beer?" She smiles and tips her head to the side. "I'd love one...but...I'm nursing." I nod. Oh yeah, forgot about that. Her eyes look down, then up, then down again. "What is it, Scully?" I ask, ushering her to sit down beside me on the couch. She gets comfortable and takes a deep breath. "It's about you, John." She looks me in the eye as she says it. "Me? What about me?" She hesitates. "About you and Monica." I look confused. What could she know about Monica and I? I sit quietly and wait for her to speak. "John...I know you love her." She says slowly. My eyes search hers. I've denied my feelings for a long time, and I can't deny it to Scully. I don't say anything, which confirms her suspicion. Scully looks down. "In the hospital, you were so...determined. From a doctor's point of view, there was no hope. But you refused to believe that." She paused. "And you were right. You were by her side virtually the whole time. I don't think I saw you eat a meal or sleep at all. And I saw how you cried." I still couldn't say anything. "I may be wrong here, but I don't think I am. Will you admit it to me?" <> I look down. I glance up again, into her eyes. "It's the truth." Scully exhales softly, and nods. "Then you've got to tell her, John." "Scully, I-" "You've got to tell her." she says a little stronger. "She has to know." I'm confused by her insistence. Why does she feel so strongly that I should tell her? "Why should I tell her, Scully?" Scully looked down again, and the room was so quiet. "Because I don't want you to make the same mistake that Mulder and I made." she says, pausing. "We...wasted years that we could have had together. We were so worried about how it would affect our work, our friendship. We waited so long. Too long." I'm surprised at the mention of her relationship with Mulder. She's never really talked about it. "If you don't tell her, John, you'll regret it. Especially if you lose her. Or if she loses you. Even if you don't get yourselves killed, you'll still regret it because you'll look back and realize that you could have spent months or even years together. And you would have wasted all that time." Her eyes plead with me, as well as her words. She squeezes my hand. I feel tears stinging the back of my eyes. I let go of a breath I was holding. "I'm afraid to tell her." I say, clenching my teeth. Scully nods as though she understands. "I can imagine. If I had lost...what you lost, I would be afraid too. But you can't let it stop you. You can't let it stand in the way." I know she's right. But does that make it any easier? She looks down at her knees again. "Look, John. It's your life. You have to do what you have to do. But as a friend who genuinely wants to see you happy, take my advice. Don't let it slip away from you." Her hand squeezes mine again, and she touches my shoulder in a comforting gesture. Then she gets up, takes her coat, and lets herself out. The house is once again too quiet. <> I grab my coat and keys and leave the house without locking the door. xxx PART 2 xxx I knock insistently on the door. I feel strange being here, but I made a promise. Maybe she heard me, maybe she didn't. But I realize that doesn't matter. The door swings open. Monica's stands in front of me. She's wearing pajama bottoms and a small, white tank top. Her feet are bare. Her hair is up. I want to smile at her but I'm too nervous. She recognizes my expression immediately. "John? What's wrong?" I walk past her into the huge apartment. If I wasn't a homeowner, I'd be pretty damned jealous of this place, I think, but it's a fleeting thought. She closes the door and turns to me. She senses my urgency. "John, what is it?" I shake my head. "Nothing's wrong. I just...I need to talk to you." This is all happening so fast. She leads me to the couch, and I know that now, I have to say what I came to say. And I feel like I'm going to vomit. We sit down together. "What is it?" she repeats tenderly. I look down at my knees. "I don't know how to do this." She catches my eyes. She's concerned. What do I say? Monica, I love you? I have feelings for you? I want you? What? I'm ready to explode when her hands touch my face. I look up into her eyes. "Hey...it's okay. You can tell me." That's just like Monica...to be the warm, comfortable center in every situation. I try and relax, and remember that no matter what ridiculous thing I might say, she wouldn't hold it against me, and she wouldn't laugh at me. I close my eyes for a moment. <> I take a deep breath and look up at Monica. Her eyes are full of tears. And it's then that I realize that I just spoke those words aloud. I exhale and pray that I don't pass out. "John..." She whispers. Her lip is trembling, and there's a tear streaking down her cheek. Nervously, I reach up and wipe it away. And slowly we come together in a deep, passionate kiss. The world around us seems to fade away, and we are surrounded by nothing but our need for each other. The smell of her skin intoxicates me. Somehow, we end up on the floor, minutes, maybe hours later. I feel drunk. She's a drug, and I'm so high that I've forgotten my senses. My fingers mindlessly fumble with her clothes. I steal a moment to watch her as she undoes the buttons of my shirt. Her mouth is open, her eyes are half-shut. I can feel her uneven breath on my face. Her hair, that was just a moment ago tied up in a tight knot has come half-undone, and it's the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I touch her hair. So soft. My hands explore her skin, every silky inch of her that I can reach from my awkward position on top of her. I kiss the skin of her neck as my hands knead into her sides. Will she really let me touch her in all of her secret places? My head swims at the idea. For the moment, it seems as though my fantasy has come true. I kiss her stomach, and it's firm from hours of working out and perhaps good genes. My lips follow the trail down to her pajama bottoms, and I catch the scent of *her*. I want more. I must have more. "John..." My name is the only decipherable word that comes out of her mouth. The rest is formless gasps. I come to her mouth again, kissing it hard. My hips dig into her. Her legs part, and I fall between them. Is this really happening? I stop and look at her. She is breathless and more beautiful than I've ever seen her. We want the same thing. Hurriedly and gracelessly, I get out of my pants, and she wiggles out of hers. And when we are skin to skin, I realize that this is a little different than my fantasy. I imagined taking the time to perform every sexual act in the book; but it wasn't going to be that way. It would have to wait. There was a need to be fulfilled now. I ease into her, carefully. She holds her breath and opens her mouth. Her eyes close as though she's dizzy. Once inside her completely, she lets out her breath with a whimper. I'm not going to lose it and go animal on her. It's been a long time, probably for both of us, but I don't want to ruin this by being rough. I want her to feel everything. I kiss her lips and suck on her tongue. My hands play with her hair, and caress her breasts. She's got amazing breasts. And she feels wonderful inside. The pace quickens. I can't help it. She whispers things in my ear, telling me how good she feels. She's so wet and so warm. Her breath becomes very short, her gasps louder. She arches her back and I can feel her tighten just as she lets out an uninhibited cry. Her fingers dig into the skin of my arms as she tenses, the climax washing over her like a great wave. I can't hold onto it any longer. I bury my head between her neck and her shoulder and release comes. I realize, for a brief moment, that we have neglected to use any protection, but I can't think about it. I am overtaken by the sensations as they control my body and my mind. Finally, there is nothing but the sound of our labored breathing. I lay on top of her. We are slick with perspiration. I feel her mouth next to my ear. "I love you.," she whispers. My arms tighten around her like a physical acknowledgement. I love her, and she loves me. My face is still buried in her hair, but I smile. I laugh. I pull back and look at her. Her tired eyes are shining and she starts laughing too. It's several moments before we can stop. "Why didn't we do this sooner?" I ask. She nuzzles my nose playfully. "We could of. I just didn't think you were ready. I was starting to believe you might never be ready." My face grows more serious. "I guess I was afraid, Monica." I say sheepishly. She nods, and her expression becomes serious as well. "I know, John. I know." "I'm sorry." I say, and I'm not sure why. I just feel the need to apologize. She shakes her head and kisses me again, and all unhappy thoughts are gone. I love the warm feel of her mouth, the softness of her lips. I know that I'll enjoy those lips for as long as I'm allowed. xxx Part 3 xxx I look up at the clock. It's nearly lunchtime, but I don't think either Monica or I will be taking lunch today. There's a mountain of paperwork on both our desks that's accumulated during our absence. It's enough to make you want to take *another* leave of absence. Monica takes off her glasses and sets them down on the desk. She rubs the bridge of her nose and takes two deep breaths. She does this often, which makes me think it's a stress-relief activity that she read about in a woman's magazine article that was probably titled "De-stress in thirty seconds" or something. I watch her and smile. She looks at the bombardment of papers on her desk again. "God, what a hell of deal to come back to." she says to me, her mouth turning up in a slight smile. I nod in agreement. She returns to her work, and I to mine, but my mind is far away from this tedious task. I'm remembering the past few days together. We haven't spent more than four hours apart in three days. I haven't gotten much sleep, but I'm not complaining. It's more fun to be awake now. Just then someone knocks on the office door, and it opens. Scully comes in, baby Will in her arms. "Hey, you two." Monica greets her with her usual exuberance, and I wave and smile. Actually, Scully is just the woman I wanted to see. The two women talk idly for several minutes. It amazes me how Scully can be upbeat sometimes, what with all the chaos in her life, but I'm glad that she can. Suddenly, Scully's brow furrows. She tips William upside down and sniff's his bottom. I don't suppress my smile. "I've got to change him." she says with a wide smile. "Oh, I'll do it." Monica offers, holding her arms out. "You sure?" "Of course. I'm desperate for a break." Monica grins. Scully hands her William and the diaper bag, and she scurries off to the ladies room. Finally, Scully and I are alone. She sits down in Monica's chair and looks straight at me. "You told her, didn't you?" she asks with a bright smile. I'm shocked. "How did you know?" She shakes her head. "I can just tell. I mean...there's no tension in either of your faces. You haven't wiped that smile off of your face since I walked in." I laugh and lean back in my chair. "Well, I did. I told her. I was nervous as hell and damn near passed out, but I told her." "And...the result?" I say nothing, but an even bigger grin spreads across my face. Scully nods. "Satisfactory, I take it." "You could definitely say that." "Good. I'm glad." she says. "I'm happy for you." A few minutes later, Monica walks back in, William in arms. She's singing the Sesame Street theme and the baby laughs at her. She kisses him on the top of his head and hands him back to his mother. "All cleaned up." she says cheerfully. "You're quick. You'll be a pro by the time you have your own." Scully says, and winks at me. I have to look down at my desk to keep from breaking into chuckles. Monica looks at her, and then at me, and smirks. I think she's on to us. When Scully leaves, Monica confronts me. "John, I get the distinct impression that Dana knows about us." I nod. "She was the one that convinced me to tell you." Monica purses her lips. "Is that so? Well, I'll have to thank her then." she says. Then she nudges the office door shut, flips the deadbolt lock, and strides over to me. I give her a sly look, and pull her onto my lap, and jokingly make and "oof" sound. We kiss a little. Office make-out sessions are the best. And suddenly, it occurs to me that I could have had this long ago, if I had told her. I missed out, just like Scully said. I'm just glad that I listened to her, instead of myself, to my own cowardice. The future is beginning to look a little brighter. ~end Author's Notes: I just didn't like the end of "Audrey Pauley". Had to write my own. Comments are accepted at tred2@yahoo.com. Now, if you'll excuse me, Benedryl is kicking my ass. Naptime.