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Rating - NC-17 (Sex) (This Witch would change this rating to NC-30, for some hardcore action that shouldn't quite be dignified as "sex".)

Category - SRA - Story (ill-conceived)/Romance (no)/Angst (mostly the reader's)

Spoilers - NADA (Because this takes place in a U so A as to bear no relationship to canon)

Keywords - MSR, (incest, child abuse, sex with objects. You gotta warn people about this stuff.)

Summary - The team go(es) over (through) some rocky times as Scully tries to doctor (nurse) Mulder back to health.

Archiving-Send it anywhere (Ooo-o-hh -- no, that would be a cheap shot), just credit me. (The Rothschilds don't have this much credit.) Tell me if you put it on your page.

Disclaimer- Yes, I own all of them. Sure, why not. Okay, if I was Chris Carter I would, but I really don't! I'm just borrowing them. I don't own Mulder, Scully, Skinner, Byers or Langly. (This disclaimer is no sillier than others I've seen, but leads WWotF to wonder why authors bother with disclaimers, which are supposed to provide them with a little legal shelter in case of Hurricane Copyright Violation, if they're going to treat the whole thing as a big joke? And not a very funny one, either.)

Feedback-Hug an author, give feedback. (Mutually exclusive in this case.) Any feedback will be answered.

Author's Note: As this takes part in an A/U (you can say that again) I decided it might be interesting if Mulder and Scully had a few 'family secrets'. Since Mulder was told these secrets from (by) his mother, he really doesn't believe them. (Yeah, we all know what a liar Ma Mulder was.) He takes preventive measures just in case. (Of what?)

Warning: Child abuse will be discussed in part three. (Are you including incest under the general umbrella of child abuse?) Partner abuse will take place in parts two and three. (Reader abuse will take place thoughout.)

Warning Two: If you are offended by the fact that two Special Agents have consensual sex, do NOT read this! If you are offended that one Special Agent is related to a member of the Lone Gunmen, Don't Read! (If you are offended by the idea that the FBI has a secret police force to ensure partners don't occupy the same apartments after dark, Don't Read! If poor plotting, bad sex, sex with objects [WWotF was going to call it 'object rape', but the subject *liked and wanted* it], an immature view of adult relationships, and temper tantrums offend you, Don't Read! Or, at least, don't read this story.)

A week after being admitted to the hospital, Mulder had finally been released. The plane ride home had hurt Mulder. (Perhaps he was reading this story on his laptop.) Hurt was actually a minor word (she means understatement)compared to what Fox Mulder (do we need the whole name?) felt. He had been in agony almost the entire trip. Every pressure change made him feel as if he had been stabbed. His collapsed lung again reminding him that he should have listened to the doctors and stayed in Oklahoma City. (Sentence fragment.)

Mulder sagged against the doorframe of the door (as opposed to the doorframe of the window) to his apartment. He held onto it, coughing.

Scully put her arm around his waist. "Let's get you inside." (Oh, Scully's there, is she?)

Mulder could only nod. He put his arm around her and let her guide him to his bedroom. She helped him lay down on the bed, gently taking off his shoes. She then hunted around in his coat pocket (gotta be hard, with him lying down in it), taking out his asthma inhaler. "You need to take some of this."

"I don't have asthma." Mulder coughed again. "It's like before, that's all. It took time for my lungs to get over those tobacco beetles. That's all it is."

"What do you think all that coughing is? Do you really think you still have beetle larvae inside you?" (WWotF reminds Agent Scully that a thing which happened once may happen again.)

"Of course not. I'm free of beetles. (Only in the X-Files could a sentence like this make sense.) I just meant my lungs need time to get better." Mulder winced as his lung spasmed again (his lung spasmed?). He hacked, trying to catch his breath. "Asthma means you wheeze, not cough."

Scully shook up the container, then handed it to him. "You get the choice. (Wheezing or coughing.) Take some, or I sit on you and make you take it."

"You're a sadist." Mulder took the inhaler. He opened his mouth, took a puff and inhaled. He repeated the process three times. (Perhaps the author is a pharmacist.)

Mulder had to admit the inhaler did help. He just didn't want to admit his weakness. To suddenly have asthma as an adult was hard to adjust to. (WWotF is getting dizzy. Has this sentence come to its destination yet?)

"I wanted to go home. Oklahoma was driving me crazy." (WWotF has the same problem in Key West.)

"Don't deny you where (were) in pain the entire plane ride." Concern was etched on her face. (That's gotta hurt.)

Mulder glanced at the clock. "It's only two AM. My bodies(body's) still on Central Time."

"I know for a fact that you got to sleep before midnight every day you where (were) in the hospital."

Scully gave him a little grin; she reached out, stroking his hair. "I'll be here until your fully recovered." (Your fully recovered what does what?) (Oh, she mean't, "you're fully recovered…)

"(And these quotes are for what purpose?) Scully's grin grew wider. "It was his idea."

"Mulder, you're not ready for anything like that. You're still recovering." (No.)

"I don't want anything physical. I just want to feel you beside me. To hold you in my arms." (That's physical.) He confessed. (You don't start a new sentence after every quotation. But WWotF is just going to address all these quotation snafus to the Strunk & White site, okay?) "I feel safer when you're near."

"What are you doing to me?"

"I'm checking your tube." (Sounds pretty physical to me.) Scully helped him take off his shirt. Then her cold (y'know, WWotF always *thought* Agent Scully would have cold fingers) fingers ran over his skin. "No wonder you're in pain. Your bag is full." (I hate when that happens.)

the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. His bruises had mostly faded. His nose was still a bit swollen. //I suppose I should realize a broken nose wouldn't make my nose any smaller. //(WWotF supposes so, too, given what's coming later.)

Mulder looked at the full bag. It was attached to his chest tube. He hadn't bled like this since the first day he had gotten the tube. He opened the shunt at the end of the bag, and watched the blood flow into the sink. (Gick. WWotF is not a doctor, but this sounds wrong somehow; doesn't it sound wrong to you?)

//Perhaps Scully had been (was) right. Perhaps I should have stayed in Oklahoma. // (In Oklahoma, it's okay to have chest tubes and full bags of blood draining into the sink..)

Mulder rinsed out the sink (thank God) and went back into the bedroom. Scully had placed his suitcase on the dresser. She took out the baggie that held Mulder's medicines. She opened them (them medicines -- oh, she probably means medicine *bottles*), one by one (comma) taking a pill out (of each). When she was finished, there were eight pills for Mulder to take. (Ergo, there were eight bottles. WWotF thinks this sounds like Sesame Street. WWotF was recently eviscerated, and at no time in the recovery process was she on eight separate medications. However, no tobacco beetles were involved, so perhaps this is okay.)

"I suppose I can't talk you out of letting (making) me take those?" Mulder said with a half-smile.

He watched Scully get him a glass of water. She handed the pills to him, and crossed her arms, half-annoyed. (by his half-smile, no doubt.) "If you don' (t) take them, you don't get better."

Mulder took the pills, and drained the water glass. Scully took the glass from him, and set it on the bedside table.

Mulder watched Scully walk to his dresser. She opened the dresser drawer and took out one of his T-shirts. She turned her back to him and pulled off her shirt. She folded it up and placed it on the dresser. Then she took off her bra. She slipped on his T-shirt. Scully took off her shoes, then her pants. She folded them up, and placed them on top of her shirt. Then she turned to him. (Then she exhaled.) He had to say that the T-shirt (looked?) far better on her then it ever had on him. The v of the shirt was revealing the curves of her breasts. (It never did that on Mulder.) The edge of the shirt falling right below her crotch, the mini-skirt look emphasized her legs. (WWotF would say this was a comma splice, but only half of it is a sentence.)

//Your (How come this author understands the your/you're thing part of the time, but not all the time? WWotF is puzzled.) not mine, not yet. //

Scully got in bed beside Mulder. Mulder moved closer to her. He put his head on her shoulder. Scully put her arm around him, pulling him even closer. Scully had been right, he was tired. He could feel her fingers stroking his hair.

"What's wrong?" Scully asked after ten minutes passed. "Are you having troubles (trouble) sleeping?" (Well, no wonder. If she'd quit stroking his hair, the poor boob could sleep.)

"I'll be here when you wake." Scully promised. "I'm here for as long as you want me."

Mulder waited for Scully to tell him that he was nuts. Instead she said softly. "Then I'll be here forever."

(The Wicked Witch of the Forest has just glanced down at her monitor and noted that we are on page 4 of 30. She is extremely discouraged by this.)

//What does Mulder dream of? // Scully wondered. She was sitting up in bed, watching her partner sleep. She had troubles (trouble) sleeping, what with her partner thrashing around the bed as soon as he entered REM sleep. //How on Earth does he stay on the couch? //

"John, I can't tell her our secret." Mulder murmured in his sleep. "I would loose (LOSE, for the love of -- er, ahem. Lose. Unless he has her in chains, which is how WWotF feels right now.) Dana if I told her. I don't care where you publish it (What?), I'm not going to tell her!" (If John publishes it, she can just read it.)

"My pentagram." Mulder began to try and feel around the bed. "Dana, have you seen my pentagram?"

"Here it is." Scully picked the pentagram off of (oy) Mulder's chest; she put it in his hand.

Scully wondered why Mulder always called her Dana in his sleep. (Because he's dreaming of Dana Andrews. Or Bill Dana.) Why never Scully. (WWotF cannot conceive of a circumstance in which this would be a complete sentence.)

Mulder brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it. "Tonight's the full moon. You have to stay away from me! Family secret. Must protect you from my family secret."

//Perhaps Mulder has a crazy relative. // (Okay, this is the reward for having lasted through four whole pages.) Scully thought. //I guess we're more alike then (than)I thought. I think everyone has at least one crazy relative. // (And if you don't have one, and want one, select a relative and make him/her read this.)

Scully glanced at the clock, 9 AM. Mulder would be up soon. She got out of bed, and went into the kitchen. The doctor had ordered Mulder to eat. Her partner had lost 15 pounds since his lung hand (He has a lung hand? Most of us only come with a right and a left. But those lung hands aren't very sturdy. Mulder's) collapsed.

Breakfast in bed. She would make him breakfast in bed. Perhaps she could get him to eat if she made his favorite foods. She looked in the refrigerator. Really old food looked back at her. She couldn't cook with that food.

Scully realized the refrigerator was an X-File in itself. She grabbed a trashcan, and began to throw things away. About four months of take out leftovers lived in the refrigerator. When she was finished throwing out bad food, she realized Mulder had no food to eat.

There was a market just down the street. She could get some food, and come back without Mulder finding out. She quickly dressed and left. (To get food.)

Mulder woke. He reached out in the bed. His arm only hit empty air. (Did it hurt?)

Scully, where was Scully? He opened his eyes. His partner wasn't in the room. Mulder got out of bed. His side still hurt. First he checked the bathroom.

He put his robe on, and went into the living room. Only an empty room (full of empty air) greeted him. He then checked the kitchen. Mulder went back into the living room, and sat on the couch.

Scully had left him. After promising she would be there when he woke, Scully had left.

Mulder picked up the remote and turned on the television. Then he noticed what had been under the remote. A new package of sunflower seed(s). Perhaps this was her way of telling him she would be back. (Unless the seeds are arranged to spell, "I'LL BE BACK,", why would he suppose this?)

Mulder opened the package of seeds and began munching. Then he turned the television on. He found an old Nicks (WWotF is not even a sports fan, but even she knows that the KNICKS is short for the KNICKERBOCKERS, and she wishes to hell the fan community [clearly not sports-minded] would get it right ONE time) game on the classic sports channel. (There's a classic sports channel? Broadcasting games from the forties, perhaps?)

Thirty minutes passed, and Scully returned. She put the bag of groceries down on the kitchen table.

So that was it, she had only left to get groceries. (God help him if she ever goes out to do the laundry.) Mulder felt a bit ashamed.

"DO (Presumably a typo.) you know your refrigerator was full of moldy food?" Scully asked.

He reached out, touching her hair. "Nothing to be sorry about." (You didn't write it.)

Scully smiled. He loved her smile. It was a special smile that was reserved only for him. "So your (AAARGH!) not mad at me?"

Mulder's eyes met hers (ow) and he smiled back. "Of course I'm not." He kissed her gently on the lips. Scully didn't pull away from him, telling him "Enough." Instead she put her hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer. Mulder could feel his partner's hunger in the kiss. (That's why she went out for the food.) For the first time, he realized that it was as hard on her as it was on him to wait for his recovery. He noticed the empty beer bottle on the end table, and he made up his mind. (Careful, Mulder. This kind of thinking got Fatty Arbuckle arrested.)

"I want to try something. I promise I won't do anything crazy. Will you let me?"

"What?"

"I want to pretend we're teenagers." Mulder gave her a half smile. "I want to give you some heavy petting."

"This isn't sex. (The Truth Is Right Here…) This is for you. This is simply me giving you pleasure." (Nuh-uh.)

Mulder's hand went to Scully's shirt, unbuttoning it. His hand moved to the front clasp of the bra, unfastening it. (What would fanfiction have done without the front-loading bra?) Then his hand cupped her bare breast.

He kissed her again, as he pinched her nipple between his fingers. Teenagers. He could still remember the Sasha (the Sasha?) who(,) in his senior year of high school (,) had taught him all about heavy petting. (WWotF presumes the Sasha is now a whore in Bangkok.) His lips went to her neck, as his hand moved to her other nipple.

On Scully's side, she couldn't believe what Mulder was doing. (Just wait, Scully; you ain't seen nothin' yet.) His lips were making love to her neck. His fingers manipulating her nipples. The other hand had dipped between her legs, rubbing her clitoris hard through her jeans. (This sounds painful.) Mulder unfastened her jeans, pulling her zipper down. His hand went inside, his fingers moving downwards in the cramped space. He found her clit, and began to rub it.

Then one finger arched in, and she felt one of his fingers (presumably the one that just arched in) enter her. Then a second joined the first.

Mulder's lips left her neck (but not, we hope, his face), trailing kisses to her nipples. How did he know that her nipples were her most erogenous zones? (Duh.) Then he took one in his lips and began to suck. Her hand went to the back of his head, urging him on. He had one hand on the other nipple, and the other rubbing her pubic (Hair? Mound? Bone?). She began thrusting in time with the hand. Pretending she was in the back seat of a car with Mulder. Her body arched back, and she came. Her lips opening in a silent scream. (Sentence fragment. One of many. Can't take much more.)

Mulder was suddenly kissing her lips. "Did you like it?" (Hell, no, orgasms make Scully retch.)

"You're not up to sex." She reminded him. (Sure, Scully, what do you care? You got off.)

It was hard to take her jeans off with Mulder's hand still inside her, but not impossible. He told her to put her legs up on the coffee table. (This happened to one of WWotF's Barbie dolls once.) Scully did as she was told.

Mulder took his hand out of her; he brought his fingers to his lips, and licked the juices off. "Play with yourself."

Scully touched her pearl (Dear God), rubbing it. Her other hand found her nipple. Her fingers stroking herself as hard as Mulder' hand had. (Sentence fragment.) She looked into Mulder's eyes met as she masturbated herself. It seemed strangely erotic to let her lover watch her.

"What are you thinking of?" he asked huskily. (What the hell do you think she's thinking of?)

"Your (gold? Diamond?) mine, Dana, mine." Mulder kept chanting. (Hare krishna…)

Scully arched her head back as she made love to herself. Her legs moving up near her shoulders. Her body thrusting in time with her fingers. (Sentence fragment.) Her lover's eyes were dark, half closed as he watched her. His hand reached out; he thrust three fingers inside of her. He moved his fingers in time with hers. His other hand finding (found) her breast, kneading it harshly.

Mulder turned, and picked up the beer bottle. "I want to make love to you with this." (Look up the Arbuckle case on the internet sometime, Mulder. Now would be a good time.)

Mulder licked the rim of the bottle. Then he slid it inside her wetness. Thrust, thrust. (WWotF must go away and lie down in a dark room now. Call her when it's over.) He would shove the bottle almost all the way inside her, then back out, so that the rough edge came in contact with her clit. Slick, rough, slick, rough. The feeling was electrifying. (If you can overlook what's happening here -- and that's a BIG if -- take note of the "Dick and Jane" tone of parts of this last paragraph.)

Mulder's mouth went captured one of her nipples, as the bottle made love to her. It wasn't hard for Scully to pretend that the bottle was her lover's cock. Before she knew it, she was screaming Mulder's name.

Mulder removed the bottle from inside of her, and took his lover in his arms. "I love you."

"I wanted to show you that you where (were) appreciated." (By shoving a bottle into you.)

"What about me?" his lips ran over her forehead. (WWotF wishes they'd just stay on his face.) "As you said before, I'm still recovering. (Mulder isn't the only one.) I had to, I had to let you know you where (were) wanted."

(Okay, time out. WWotF wants to say something here. First, in no universe this Witch can conceive, however alternate, would Scully allow Mulder to shove a beer bottle into her and call it making love. Second, beer bottles are made of GLASS, and a ROUGH EDGE OF GLASS would NOT be a pleasant thing to have rubbed against one's "pearl". Pushing found objects into one's vagina can lead to a quick trip to the emergency room, and imagine trying to explain THAT to the attending physician. Mulder, profiling sexual predators, and Scully, autopsying their victims, would NOT find this little kink appealing. IMHO.)

Time: three days after part one (WWotF has grown to hate these little timestamps.)

"Dana, time to get up." The sound of Fox Mulder's (as opposed to Harry Mulder's) voice rang in her ears.

Scully woke at mid-morning. Mulder was wrapped around her body. Spooning, they had spooned in their sleep. How could Fox Mulder make even sleeping together into something that would turn her on? Mulder was behind her. His arm around her waist. (Sentence fragment. But who cares?) Scully could feel his hardness pressing against her. Scully felt a stirring inside of her. Mulder's body gently rocked against her. His hard penis making love to her back. (Sentence fragment. Among other things.) Somewhere in his dreaming, they had both lost their underwear. (WWotF hates it when that happens.)

Mulder had made love to her several times with his fingers. Each time, refusing any satisfaction for him. He had told her he wasn't ready. He didn't feel up to it. (OKAY, WE GET IT.) Now Dana Scully (not Margaret Scully, or Melissa Scully, or Vin Scully) realized that Mulder was extremely ready.

"Dana, please, wake up."" he whispered in his sleep. (Sleep?!? He just said "wakey, wakey" to her [and we won't even discuss the likelihood of that happening]. Now he's asleep? And thinks she is, too?) His hand snaked up her body. Reaching beneath her sleep shirt (Nightgown? Pyjamas?). Finding her nipple, pinching it. (Sentence fragment.) He made small love bites on the back of her neck. His other hand was caressing her clitoris. She was slick, wet.

I should stop this. Scully thought. He doesn't know what he's doing. (WWotF doesn't know, Scully. The Sasha obviously taught him a thing or two.)

Mulder began to roll her clit between his fingers. Every other roll, pinching it. A wave of warmth enveloped her. *How did he learn to pleasure a woman like that? * (In his sleep, no less. It sounds to WWotF like he knows what he's doing.)

Scully brought her hand up behind his head. She was very close to orgasm. For a moment his hands froze. Scully gasped. (And no wonder, with those frozen hands of his groping her crotch.) "Don't stop, please don't stop. Please Mulder, please." She felt like she was running up a hill. (Amazingly enough, when WWotF runs up a hill, she almost never has an orgasm. Only the occasional myocardial infarction.)

One finger entered her, and then the other. (He only has two? Mulder has more fingers than that, given how many hands he has.) Thrusting in time with his manhood. "Yes, Mulder, yes." She chanted. Her voice drove the fingers on, making every pinch harder, every thrust stronger. Her body thrusting in time to her lover's missives. (God. He must be writing with that lung hand. Talk about yer multi-tasking.) Then suddenly the earth burst open. (WWotF had no idea the Alexandria area was earthquake-prone.) Her orgasm was shuddering (How about, "Her body was shuddering in orgasm"?). Her mouth making almost silent screams. (Sentence fragment.)

"Please Dana, let me make love to you." he said looking at her. For the first time, Scully realized that Mulder was awake. (WWotF is so confused…) His eyes dark with desire. (Sentence fragment.) She had never seen Mulder like this before. She thought of him as good looking before. Now she realized that their relationship would never be complete without this. (Is it just WWotF, or was this a non sequitur?)

"Your (AAAR-- Oh, the hell with it.) still recovering." she said, trying to assuage her guilt.

"We'll be careful." His fingers began to caress her nipple again. "Let me inside you, please." (Why not? Lowenbrau's been in there.)

In answer, Scully carefully put her leg around Mulder's waist. She rubbed her pussy against his straining cock. Mulder crushed her to him. Kissing her with a passion that she found exhilarating. He put his hand around her ass, pulling her up onto his manhood. She opened herself to her new lover. Slowly he filled her

For a moment Mulder looked into Scully's eyes. "I never loved anyone the way I love you." (After that bottle thing, I believe it.) Then he began to make sharp thrusts inside her, using the bed's baseboard (WWotF's bed only has a headboard and a footboard. This must be very large furniture.) for leverage.

If Scully was a quiet lover, she found out that her partner was a complete opposite. He made loud groans with each thrust. The noises Mulder emitted made Scully even more excited. Nearer and nearer he got to his orgasm, the louder he got. (The nearer he got…)

"Yes, beloved, oh yes." Scully said, before coming yet again. This orgasm was stronger then the first. Her body arched back, trying to impale itself even more onto her lover's.

With a sound that resembled the howl of an animal Mulder came. A few moments passed, and Mulder was holding her in his arms.

"Yes, Mulder?"

"I didn't force you to do anything, did I?" Mulder's voice was full of guilt. "I woke up, and I wanted you so badly..."

"I was going to give you three more days, then I was going to ravish your (you) myself."

Scully felt him smile against her forehead. "Really?"

"I love you," Mulder said before beginning a coughing spell. Mulder got out of bed, and half-staggered; half ran to the bathroom. He was barely able to get to the sink before the bag on his chest tube broke. Blood spilled everywhere.

The next thing Mulder said, Scully could barely hear. "Scully, my tube fell out."

"Your tube fell out." Scully repeated. "Are you sure?" (Jeeezzz…)

Scully got out of bed. She went into the bathroom. Mulder was using the sink to hold himself up. He looked a very strange shade of green. Blood was everywhere, the floor, the skink, and the toilet. Lying in the middle of the sink was Mulder's chest tube.

Scully grabbed a towel, and put it against the open spot (wound) in Mulder's side.

Mulder only nodded. Scully went into the bedroom. She picked up Mulder's phone. She quickly called 911. When she explained the gravity of the situation, they told her they would be right there.

(Wicked Witch of the Forest isn't going to comment on all the sentence fragments, the punctuation snafus, and the incredibly unrealistic dialogue that has just gone before. She's only going to say that "my tube fell out" and "your bag is full" have been provocative of a great deal of unplanned hilarity between the Wicked Witch and her Wily Warlock.)

Scully seemed to ignore him. She took something out of her bag. (Why something? Why not just tell us what it is? Why make two sentences out of this? Why didn't the Wicked Witch of the Forest move to Albuquerque and open a garden-supply store instead of becoming an editor?) A large gauze pad, and a bottle. She poured some of the contents of the bottle on the pad. Then she went to Mulder. "Let me see your wound."

Mulder showed it to her. She pressed the pad against the open wound. It hurt, damn it, it hurt.

"Why?" (Why does it hurt? Because she's pouring something [probably from that damn beer bottle] over an OPEN WOUND, you idiot. Why is she doing this? Because you ASKED HER TO.)

Scully then looked in several of his drawers. Then asked. "Where do you keep your sweat pants?" (On his ass, or in a drawer, presumably.)

Mulder pointed. Scully got out the most tattered pair (why?). She went back to Mulder, and knelt on the floor. "I need to put this on you." to answer Mulder's unspoken question, she said. "You might be a little embarrassed if the ambulance finds you nude." (To say nothing of the ambulance attendants.)

Mulder nodded again. Scully helped him put his sweat pants on. Holding him as she pulled them up.

Scully went to her suitcase. She pulled out a pair of faded jeans, and a pair of underwear. She put them on. She found a bra, pulled off Mulder's shirt. Put the bra on. Then she pulled another one of Mulder's shirts from the dresser drawer. She put it on. (Then she exhaled again.)

Scully wore his shirts now. Not only that, she looked good in them. "What have I done?" (WWotF has been asking herself this since she agreed to review this story. And we're only on Page 10.)

Mulder took off his pentagram (all this pain and suffering [on the part of the readers, that is], and we still haven't accounted for that pentagram) and pressed it into her hand. Trying to tell her with his eyes to keep it for him. (Sentence fragment.)

Skinner met the ambulance at the hospital. That surprised Scully. (It surprises me, too. Who called him? Does he have their apartment bugged? Given what follows, this would not surprise me. Skinner is apparently a member of the Secret Sex Police. Pity he was in Oklahoma for the Bottle Incident.) The last time she had heard, he was still in Oklahoma.Scully watched the paramedics wheel Mulder away. She had asked to go with him, but the hospital refused. (Or maybe the doctors or nurses did.)

"Mulder's been having problems with his bag since returning home. (This happened to the Wily Warlock of the Forest once, but a little talcum cleared it right up.)" Scully told him.

"No sir, I couldn't have. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't come with him." (This appears to be a question, albeit a rhetorical one, and should therefore have a question mark instead of a period at the end. But there are so many punctuation gaffes in this story that this seems like a minor quibble.)

"For one thing, his tube wouldn't have fallen out." Skinner looked Scully over. "I wasn't born yesterday. I have a feeling that I know what happened." (Oh, Skinner, you have NO idea. Or perhaps you do; were you ever in Bangkok? Have you met The Sasha?)

"The patient has requested for you to be there during the insertion of the chest tube."

(Okay, time out again. The Wicked Witch of the Forest wants to say that Skinner is WAY too interested in these people's personal lives and the fate of this chest tube. WWotF reiterates that she is not a doctor, but this all just sounds incredibly unrealistic. No, writers don't have to be doctors to write medical scenes, but for heaven's sake, there are lots of resources on the internet that could give you information about this kind of thing.)

Scully went into the exam room. Mulder was lying on his side. Waiting for the local to take effect. He reached his hand out to Scully. She took it. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. His fingers lingering over her knuckles. Trying to tell her with his lips that he still loved her still needed her. (Sentence fragments. Lots and lots. Head hurts.)

Mulder glanced at Scully. "I'm not sure. I went to the bathroom, and it fell out." (And this was in your chest, Mr. Mulder?)

The doctor and two techs came into the room. A nurse held a tube. "How does your side feel now?"

"To answer your question. It's standard practice at this hospital to anesthesia (anaesthetize) the patent (patient) before a chest tube is inserted." The doctor explained. "Mr. Mulder, do you mind if this man is here?"

Mulder shook his head no. He knew if he hadn't agreed to his (too much he and his) staying, Skinner would insist on staying anyway.

The insertion of the tube was as different from the previous experience as hot was to cold. The doctor explained everything he was going to do to Mulder before it happened. Scully was the one that held his head, stroking his hair.

Afterwards, the doctor looked Mulder over. "You'll stay in the hospital overnight."

"Until he has clearance, he needs to stay away from exercise," The doctor looked at Mulder and smiled. "And all sexual intercourse." (And beer.)

Mulder felt as if he was going to crawl under the table. Skinner now knew the cause for the tube coming out. Not only that, his superior looked very unhappy about the fact.

"Each room has a fold out bed. You are welcome to stay with him." (No. Each hospital room does not have a fold out bed, and most hospitals don't encourage casual overnight guests. They're not hotels. Anyway, didn't this officious doctor just tell Mulder he couldn't have sex? So they're going to put his [sex] partner in the same room with him?)

Skinner whispered something to Scully. His partner looked at T(t)he nurse, and then at Skinner. "No, I can't."

Scully watched Mulder be wheeled out of sight. Skinner grabbed her arm, and shoved her in the nearest linen closet. He shut the door and locked it. (No. No. No.)

"Agent Scully, we need to talk. Now." Skinner's eyes were serious. (Oh, he's in there with her?)

"Yes sir." Scully tried to ignore fact that she was only about a foot away from her superior.

"I noticed something. Every time Agent Mulder was asked about the tube, he would look at you. Almost if he was afraid that the truth might come out." (Along with the tube.)

"Stop it! Stop playing the innocent!" (After the bottle thing, there's no use Scully trying to play innocent with any of us.) Skinner's voice was angry. "Tell me the truth!"

"The fact is that you molested a fellow agent." (No, let's talk about that bottle. It was the other way around…)

"I can tell by looking at him, that Agent Mulder wasn't in any condition to have sex." Skinner took a deep breath and let it out. "Anything that happened to Agent Mulder was non-consensual."

"Until Mulder is in a condition for an evidentiary hearing, you are on administrative leave."

"I don't want to hear it!" Skinner spat. "Your (%*@&!?*#!!!) lucky I don't bust you down in rank!" With that, Skinner left.

Scully leaned against a shelf. Tears poured down her cheeks. She had been accused of something horrid. Years-old pain came back to her, of the abuse she had suffered as a child. Why did Skinner believe that she could do something that horrid to Mulder? Scully's stomach lurched; she barely got to the bathroom before she began to vomit. (Move over, Scully, and make room for a Witch.)

Time: The day after part 2

Mulder had been released from the hospital in the morning. The doctor again had given him direct instructions. No exercise, and no sex. He wondered how the D(d)octor knew that having sexy (nobody proof-read this, did they?) with Scully had made the tube fall out. Scully had been embarrassed, very embarrassed that Skinner now knew. (Everything surrounding sex with these two characters is embarrassing, very embarrassing. WWotF has been reading this entire story with her hands over her face, fingers spread, rather as if she were watching a child flunk an accordion recital.) They hadn't talked about it. They hadn't talked about very much at all. It was very hard to talk about anything when your lover wouldn't stay in the same room with you.

Scully had helped Mulder to his bed, then went into the living room. Insisting that she needed to check her e-mail. That had been over an hour ago. He could still remember the hospital staff telling Scully that she could spend the night in his room, and her curt refusal.

Mulder decided that he needed to talk to his partner. He got out of bed, and went into the living room. Scully was sitting at Mulder's desk. She was typing on the computer. Mulder decided to speak. (This seems to require more decisions than it should, don't you think?)

"I told you to leave me alone!" she hit him. (They can't have sex, but she can hit him. Well, nobody SAID she shouldn't. Oh, and btw -- "…she said, hitting him" would have been more correct. Not better, but more correct.) Scully looked at the clock on the desk. She got up, and walked past Mulder as if he wasn't there. She went into the bedroom and locked the door.

"Can't you get it through your skull that I want to be alone?" Scully spat. "Just give me some time." (HOW old are these people?)

"I'll give you all the time you want." Mulder's lung began to spasm, and he coughed again. The pain was bad this time, very bad. He sank to the floor.

The bedroom door opened. Scully knelt down beside him. She pressed the inhaler into his hand. Mulder shook it up and took a puff. "You need to be in bed." (Well, he would be if you hadn't locked the door, you officious bitch, you.)

Scully helped him get to his feet, and walked him to his bed. She set him down, and turned to leave. "Rest (comma) Mulder."

"Scully, please. What did I do?"

"I told you, nothing." Scully's hand made contact with Mulder's face. (I'm just smacking you around because it feels good, you wimpy, childish little special agent, you.)

"Why?" Tears stung his eyes, she had hit him. He couldn't believe it. He turned from her. "Then why won't you look at me? Why won't you stay in the same room as me? Why do you hit me?"

"You're having an asthma attack. You shouldn't be talking." She said firmly. (Therefore I will hit you and provoke you like a three-year-old who's been at the fair too long.)

"Shut up Mulder." Another hit. Scully went back into the living room. (Naturally, this is how all doctors deal with their wounded, needy asthmatic former-lover patients. This Scully apparently got her medical degree from Marquis De Sade U. WWotF notes that neither of these characters sounds over ten years old. If that.)

Mulder lay on his bed, watching television. (A very minor quibble: does Mulder have a television in his bedroom? An honest query; WWotF doesn't recall this.) It was about four in the afternoon. Scully still wasn't talking to him. There was no getting around the fact that she was upset at him. (Duh.)

"I don't know. She isn't talking to me." Mulder tried to sound non-chalet. (Nonchalant. Although he's probably hoping to sound non-chalet, too, he's just not pulling it off.) Hoping that his cousin (no. Byers is not Mulder's cousin.) didn't notice the fresh bruises. That was one thing he didn't want to talk to Byers about-the fact that Scully had began (begun) to hit him.

Byers whistled. "Must be something really important for her to stop talking to you."

Mulder sat up, and winced as his lung began to spasm. (WWotF would have that spasming lung removed.)

Byers eyes got large. (Why? And don't they bulge out of the sockets when that happens?)

Byers pulled a small pentagram out of his pocket. "Tonight's a full moon. I thought you might have lost yours."

Mulder pulled his pentagram out from beneath his T-shirt. "Scully found it for me."

"Since when have I been your favorite?" (Okay, we know this is an AU -- that has been SOOOOO apparent since the beer bottle incident -- but this is wandering into a U more A than this witch wants to experience.) Mulder knew that something must have happened if he came here without the rest of the Lone Gunmen. "Seriously John, why are you here?"

"She has a right to know." (So do the readers. How long are we doing to dance around this Big Secret?)

"For her protection. She has to be protected." (OMG! Lowenbrau wasn't wearing a condom!) Byers tried to gather his thoughts. "What happens if a full moon comes, and you loose (lose) your pentagram?"

"And how am I going to get her to do that?" (An excellent question. Jerse got her to get a snake, but this Mulder clearly isn't in Jerse's league.)

"Oh sure, I can just see it. 'Scully, one of my great-grandfathers killed a Gypsy woman. Her sister cursed him and all of his male descendents. I wear a pentagram to avoid the curse.' She'll never believe me." (She's believed stranger things. She believed you did that beer thing out of love. After that, why not just say, 'Hey, Sculls, how about let's tattoo a pentagram on your ass, 'kay?')

"They won't tell anyone." Mulder groaned. "Great just great, I'll be lucky not to find my secret on the front page of the Lone Gunmen." (Another minor quibble, but although the plural of "Lone Gunman" is the oxymoronic "Lone Gunmen", one assumes the name of the publication is *The Lone Gunman*. Isn't it?)

"I'll think about the tattoo thing." Mulder promised as the door opened. "But we really don't know if the curse was real, or our grandfather's insane. I'd go for the insane theory." (WWotF may just go insane. We are only on Page 17.)

"Why don't you take the curse seriously?"

"We have no proof. Just the ramblings of grandfather." (So, nobody's ever left their pentagram on the basin after a bath? But we just believe this because, what the hell, it happens all the time…)

Scully stood in the doorway, looking curious (and piscine); her mouth opened and shut a couple of times as she tried to come up with a question. Byers got off the bed. Scully looked over Byers. (Does the author mean she looked over AT Byers? Because if she's looking him over, I think someone should warn him about the beer thing.) "Do you know anything about Mulder's great secret?"

Byers looked at Mulder. Then he got a very strange grin on his face. "Yes I do. Mulder's my cousin."

"I see." Scully said slowly. "Their sisters? (They're sisters. Sigh.) That was your great secret?"

Mulder threw a pillow at Byers. "Never call me FOX!" (At last, a piece of dialogue WWotF can actually imagine David Duchovny speaking in his role as Special Agent Mulder.)

Six hours later, Mulder sat on the couch in his living room. Scully wasn't taking any chances; she was sitting as far away from him as she could, without being in another room. The only problem was that she still wasn't talking to him. (Why doesn't she just go home, already? He'd be better off.)

"Have you thought that perhaps my not wanting to talk has nothing to do with you?"

"I don't believe you. I've done something, and you won't tell me what!" (Well, let's start with how you took that bottle, and….)

Mulder fingered his pentagram. He tried to concentrate on the basketball game that was playing on classic sports channel. (Sigh.) Tonight was the night of the full moon. He didn't believe his grandfather's stories, but there might be a grain of truth in them. (No. No. No. The Mulder we all know and love would have checked this out before he hit puberty. Of course, THIS Mulder was probably too busy with The Sasha.)

Scully got up; she walked to the window, opening the curtain. The streetlight in front of the window had burnt out. Even from the couch, Mulder could see the pale moonlight. He hated moonlight, in a way he was terrified of it. (And this has never impacted his career as a field agent.)

Scully spun around. "No (comma) Mulder, I won't!" (Wait. Any moment now, she'll drum her little heels on the floor and hold her breath until she turns blue.)

"Until you give me a logical explanation, I won't!" Suddenly Scully the skeptic was back.

"What's so freighting about a little moonlight?" (I'm sure the author meant 'frightening'. Yet another proof that the spell-checker isn't the final answer.)

Mulder didn't want to discuss it. He got to his feet. He went to the window; his hand held the blinders (he has a horse in here? Isn't there a no-pets clause?) cord. He looked at the moon for a second, then crumpled to the ground, moaning in pain.

Scully grabbed the cord and pulled as hard as she could. The blinds came crashing down on top of him. "You wanted the blinds down! There you have them!"

"Ouch!" His lungs began to spasm hard. It felt as if they where trying to get out of his body though (through) his chest. He curled into a ball.

Scully took the blinds off of (no) him. Her fingers felt for lumps on his head. (It's a little late for phrenology. WWotF recommends full-on Freudian analysis.)

//She throws blinds on me, then is nice to me? I don't understand.// (Nobody does, you poor sap. Suck it up. You're on Page 19.) He finally said. "Help me get to the bedroom."

Scully helped Mulder to his feet. She put her arm around his waist, and half helped-half carried him to the bedroom. Mulder sank onto the bed, holding his broken ribs.

"Close the curtains." he gasped. "Please (comma -- but there are so many other things wrong with this story, what's a comma or two?) Dana."

"My lungs, I was having lung spasms. The moonlight must have triggered it." Mulder said quickly.

"The full moon caused your lung spasms." She couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice. "That makes no sense." (It makes as much sense as anything else in this story. The Wicked Witch of the Forest has noted all the preceding punctuation snafus, sentence fragments and inconsistent behaviors; she just doesn't expect to live long enough to point them all out.)

Mulder looked at Scully, really looked at her. The time had came; he needed to tell her the family secret. "What if I told you I was a werewolf?"

"A werewolf. There's no such thing as a werewolf." Skeptic Scully was going into hyerdrive. (Or possibly hyperdrive.)

"How can a pentagram keep someone from changing into a werewolf?" Scully tried to reason. "It can't. So therefore you can't be one."

"I don't think your (NO!!!!!!) lying. I think the medication is affecting your mind."

(Yeah, that's it. Those mushrooms Wily Warlock made for dinner must have been from the Carolinas. This has all been a bad, bad dream. WWotF feels much better.)

"Mulder, your imagining things. You are taking a lot of medication. You might be hallucinating." Scully took a deep breath and let it out. "I'll contact the doctor in the morning. We'll get your medication changed."

"Like I'd want to sleep with you?" Scully slapped him hard on the arm, and left the room.

(Okay, another time out. Wicked Witch of the Forest has a couple of things to say. "You're" is a contraction of "you are". "Your" denotes possession. If this writer doesn't care more about her readers than to use them correctly [because she evidently knows the correct usages, unless she's just using one or the other at random, and occasionally guesses lucky], why should we give any of our attention to her story? Not that this author has engendered any willing suspension of disbelief ANYWAY, but even if she had, it would have been well and truly destroyed by all these fatal grammatical errors, to say nothing of the confusion of where/were; they're/their/there; loose/lose, and all the myriad of punctuation errors, especially surrounding the quotations. Two things are required for the writing of a good, or even a merely competent story: one is that the author must have a good story to tell; and the other is that the author must have a grasp of the fundamental tools of storytelling: grammar, spelling, and punctuation. None of the above has been in evidence here.)

It had been two days since the full moon. Scully slept on the couch each night. She hadn't mentioned his story. Perhaps she didn't believe Mulder. Didn't believe his horrible secret. (Sentence fragment) Perhaps that was for the best. Scully had blamed the medication. Two days of not talking to each other, but living in the same apartment. Two days of Scully hitting him anytime he did something that annoyed her. (Sentence fragments. Two of them. Masquerading as sentences. Never mind that Scully keeps beating on Mulder and the poor wimp just keeps taking it.)

Scully was in Mulder's room. Laying out the pills he needed to take. *You don't have to do that. I can take care of myself.*

If I told you that, you would leave. (What the hell is going on? We did internal dialogue with // earlier. WWotF doesn't care what this author uses, but she should pick a thing and stick with it. WWotF would like to suggest sheet-metal work.)

Suddenly Mulder realized he didn't want Scully to leave. It no longer mattered to him that she wasn't talking to him. Mulder knew that a truce would have to be called. If something didn't happen soon, there would no longer be a them.

"How could I? You never told me!" he couldn't keep the emotion out of his voice. He reached out, touching Scully.

Scully picked up something from the cabinet; she spun around, hitting Mulder in the face with it. Mulder found himself falling, his head making contact with the dresser.

Mulder woke. There was something cold against his face. His face throbbed beneath the ice. Scully knelt beside him her face etched concern. "What did I do this time?"

"Your sorry (ass; right-hook; excuse for a story…). Great, you still won't tell me what I did." Mulder closed his eyes. "Why don't you go home? We'll pretend nothing between us ever happened."

"Do you really want that?" (WWotF sure does….)

"You refuse to talk to me, you punch me. I always have bruises, I can't stand it. If this is love, then I don't want it." Mulder's voice was horse. (That is, of course, unless the horse is the famous Mr. Ed…. Sorry. But this does explain the presence of the blinders.) "I would rather be just your partner. You believed in me, even when my ideas where wacko (There wacko.) you still was there, supporting me. Now I have nothing. You never hit me when I was just your partner."

"No, I didn't. I don't even know why the Doctor knew." Mulder's voice cracked. "It was a secret, between the two of us."

"Skinner knows. I don't know how, but he knows what happened between the two of us." Scully paused. "I'm being formally reprimanded for putting your life in danger. He's still debating if he's going to bust me down in rank."

"Because he's right. I'm a doctor. I knew what we did was risky. I should have stopped you."

"It's just as much my fault as yours. More really, I kinda forced myself on you. I'd been waiting so long. It was almost like I molested you."

"Don't say that!" There was pain in Scully's voice. "Never say you forced yourself on me! I wanted you as much as you wanted me! It's my fault!"

Scully crossed her arms. Her bottom lip actually shook. Mulder could see the truth in her eyes before she turned away.

Mulder got to his feet. He touched Scully's shoulder. She turned to him (comma) tears streaming down her cheeks, letting him take her in his arms. "When I get better, I'll tell Skinner the truth. Perhaps he will reprimanded (proof-readers, please note) me instead."

"Mulder you can't,"

"Don't you see I have to?" His fingers stroked her hair. "I can't let you take the fall for something you didn't do. Something you could never do." (sentence fragment)

"Do you think Skinner will listen to you?"

"I'll sit on him if I have to. (Better wait'll your chest tube's out, Mulder. The doctor said no sex, remember?) I'll make him listen." Mulder smiled a bit. "Now I can understand your anger towards me. I might be just as angry if the same thing happened to me."

"I do want to tell you one thing. If you keep on hitting me, we're through. I put up with enough abuse in my life. I won't again."

Scully pulled away from him enough to look in his eyes. "Who beat you (besides me)?"

"My father. He beat me before my sister was kidnapped, but afterwards... it was hell on earth. He blamed me for not being the one taken." He tapped his battered nose. "How do you think I got this?"

"I stopped counting after the fourteenth." (Though she has never personally had her witchly proboscis snapped, WWotF suspects that any nose broken fourteen times would be more Durante than Duchovny.) When Mulder noticed the look on his partner's face, he knew the truth. "You where (were) beaten, weren't you?"

"I spent the summers with my great-aunt. She was insane. (You can tell just by looking at Margaret Scully that she's the type of woman who'd park her kids with their insane, child-beating great-aunt.) She beat Melissa and I if we didn't do exactly as she told us to." Scully said softly. "I wish it was just beatings I got. Even though I had too many."

"My brother Bill. I hated every moment he touched me. He used to say he forced me to like it. But I didn't! I still hate him." (Oh, please.)

"It wasn't your fault. You know that." Mulder put that crime on his long list of why he hated Bill Scully. "You were innocent."

Scully rubbed her nose. "I was fifteen when my father found out. He blamed me. He punched me so hard that I broke my nose. I had plastic surgery later." (Noooooo, nooooo…)

Mulder touched Scully's lips. "You don't have to tell me. I understand your pain." He turned away from Scully. It would be hard to discuss something with her that he had never told anyone else. "I lost mine a week after Samantha disappeared. I used to dread the sound of my father's voice outside my door. Learned to hate my name." Mulder began to cry. Scully put her arms around his waist. Hugging him hard from behind. He turned in her arms. Sinking to the ground. She followed holding him. "I never told anyone-until you." (Aieeeeeee…..)

"I know. I can trust you." Mulder couldn't stop the tears. "When you started beating me, I thought you hated me."

(The Wicked Witch of the Forest is going to say only that there are some things the A/U designation simply won't excuse, and this story appears to have all of them.)

Mulder was surprised when Scully insisted on spending the night on the couch. He thought since they made up, she would return to sleeping with him. Then he realized. She probably wasn't ready to share her bed, not after revealing her secret. Mulder had spent the night, holding the pillow that Scully had used. It still had her scent. Wishing desperately that it was she. Having horrid nightmares about the past. (And about how much of this story there still is to get through.)

He found the kitchen light all ready on. There was already a pot of coffee made. Dana Scully was mixing something by hand in a bowl. She wore Mulder's T-shirt as a nightshirt. Mulder couldn't keep his eyes off her bare legs. Scully looked like she belonged here, almost as if this was her home.

Mulder came up behind her, not touching. "Couldn't sleep?"

Mulder put his arms around her waist, he nuzzled her neck. "Watcha making?"

"Brownies." She put the bowl down, dipped her finger in, and turned to Mulder. Her finger hovering near his mouth. She had a strange smile on her face. "Wanna bite?" (WWotF has a baaaaad feeling…)

Mulder took the hand; he looked Scully in the eyes and slowly licked the chocolate mix off of her finger. Kissing it, as he would her mouth. He then put his own finger in the bowl, and offered it to Scully. Scully sucked on his fingers.

Mulder took his finger out of Scully's mouth. Then he placed a hand on each side of her face. Mulder kissed her deeply. Trying to tell her he was sorry through the kiss. He was surprised with the hunger that Scully kissed him.

He realized there and then that he would have to do something to pleasure her. Something that wouldn't put his collapsed lung in jeopardy. *What?

Mulder pulled Scully to the floor. He wanted her, wanted to make slow love to her.

His hand cupped her breast. His fingers rubbed the nipple through the thin cloth. He could feel it harden. His other hand went around her body, pulling her shirt up in the back. His hand rubbing bare skin. (Sentence fragment, but what the hell…)

"Making love has to do with two people. My body might not be ready for full sex. (Full sex. Is this anything to do with that full bag?) My hands, my hands can make love to you." Mulder was afraid. Had he said too much? (Far too much.)

"What about you?"

Scully pulled away from Mulder. He was waiting for her to say no, to tell him that they would have to wait. Instead she pulled her T-shirt off. Then she nestled beside him.

"I like when you call me Dana." Scully kissed Mulder. "In bed, (have they been in bed? WWotF is dizzy and can't remember) call me Dana."

"All right, Dana." he couldn't help but smile. He looked at the bowl filled with rich brownie mix, a plan formed in his mind. (Oh, God, no.)

Mulder's hands ran over her body. Exploring it. She moaned as his fingers rubbed the small of her back. His hands moved upwards, unfastening her bra. Scully pulled away from him, and slipped it off.

Mulder picked up the bowl of brownie mix. Scully's breasts beckoned to him. He put some of the mix on his hands, and He (the author has temporarily deified Mulder?) touched one gently. His fingers finding the nipples. He painted her breasts with the chocolate mix. As he did, his lips found her neck. She smelled of vanilla. He rubbed the mix onto her neck.

Lick, lick. (See Mulder lick Dana. Lick, lick, lick.) He licked the mix off her neck. He had never used brownie mix to have sex before. (Really?) But he was willing to try anything once. (WWotF got THAT message loud and clear some time back.)

Once Scully's neck was clean, Mulder's lips left it, (Oh, God, they *are* still on his face, aren't they?) and kissed their way down her body. He had to almost pick himself up (the mind reels) as he did this, settling himself down near her breast. His lips replaced the finger caressing her breast. His hand dipped in the chocolate and made small circles on her belly. Then he began the meal of her nipples. (WWotF is making that panic face again.)

He glanced up to Scully. Her head was arched back. She licked her lips in excitement. Mulder dipped his hand in the sweetness, and caressed her lips with it. She licked it off his hand, with (a) long sensuous lick. Her hand pulled her underwear down. Mulder took the hint, and helped her off with it. Then her hand went to her other breast. Pinching it, kneading it. Scully began to make small moaning sounds.

Mulder found himself harden (hardening?). Goddess your a sexy woman. (There's nothing wrong with the garden-supply business; and nobody would say a thing like this in an Albuquerque garden-supply store, would they? Without quotes, and using the wrong version of your/you're?)

His hand went to the inside of his lover's knees. She split her legs for him. (Ow) He coated his hand (with --?) and made small circles with his fingers. Then he replaced his fingers with his lips, licking every inch of the brownie mix off of (no) her legs. Mulder was turned on, very turned on. Sex and food was always guaranteed to make him excited. (Beer, too.)

There was one place he hadn't put chocolate on. He coated his fingers. Slowly, very slowly he moved his fingers closer to her bud. (Wait -- she wanted a Bud Lite -- and wasn't this her "pearl"?…)Then his fingers touched her wetness. He put his middle finger inside of her. He pinched her bud between his thumb and his index finger. Scully's body arched back.

Scully's hips began to rock in time to the pinches on her clitoris. Mulder put his ring finger, then his pinky inside of her. She was warm, slick. (WWotF has lost count of the fingers. Are we fisting Scully?)

For me.

"I love you." Her fingers found the front of his pants. Stroking his penis through the cloth. His penis had a mind of it's (its) own. It strained towards his hand.

"Please, Dana." He said almost as a prayer. "Stop it. I can't." (I can't, either.)

Scully unfastened Mulder's jeans. Then she moved his shorts. His cock bobbed towards her. Scully knelt down, her lips caressing his hardness. Her mouth, he never thought she would love him with her mouth. Then warmth enveloped his shaft. She began to thrust up and down with her mouth.

Something, something was missing. (A competent writer, and a clearcut, well-thought-out storyline.)

Without taking her mouth off of (no) his cock, Scully moved so that her legs straddled his head. He moved his head up, taking her bud into his mouth. Her juices tasted earthy with a taste of chocolate.

Soon, too soon, Mulder found himself coming. At the same time, he could feel Scully's body orgasm.

His lover climbed off of him. She settled on his shoulder. He put his arm around her. His, Scully was now his. His fingers began to stroke her hair.

(Okay, time out again. WWotF simply can't go on. This doesn't get better, it just gets worse. It is evident that the author has no experience of [a] sex; or [b] hospitals; or [c] normal working relationships; or [d] writing. At least in English. The only German word WWotF knows is dreck, but she knows it when she sees it. She suspects the author of this piece of -- er, fiction is too young to have read it. [Actually, the Wicked Witch of the Forest feels she herself is too young to have read it, and she remembers the Kennedy assassination.] Again, this author's chutzpah is to be admired; few of us would have the cojones to undertake to write a story in a second language, and certainly very few of us would have the cojones to post such a story, having written it. Nevertheless, it must be said: this story is VILE. To quote somebody-or-other, it wasn't written, it was wrotten. The WHO-ARE-THESE-PEOPLE factor is off the scale. The author could be forgiven [with a bow to the language factor] for not knowing the your/you're thing; but apparently she knows it, but just chooses to ignore it, and that is *unforgivable*. So is the fact that this story was apparently never proof-read; the spell-checker doesn't catch everything. The author should have reference to the Strunk & White site or the Grammar Slammer site referenced elsewhere on these pages, PLEASE, for information on how to punctuate and structure quotations. The author would be well advised to write about something she knows well. If she must write fan fiction, WWotF strongly advises that she focus on characters nearer her own age and experience, and that she devise a plotline that bears SOME relationship to canon. The A/U designation doesn't excuse this story. These are not even the same characters 1013 created; so why are we calling this X-Files fan fiction?)

The Wicked X Witches would like to award the Wicked Witch of the Forest a special commendation for reviewing a story they were unanimously afraid to review themselves.

All the witches would like to award her with this medal for her valiant efforts.

Sibbekunde Geheim

(Why, oh why, does everybody have to do an incomprehensible non-English title? And if there's some point to a non-English title, why not make it more comprehensible to those of us who don't read whatever language it's in by footnoting the English translation?)