Book Two
**About Two Weeks Later**
It was the middle of Wednesday afternoon and Mulder’s neck and shoulders were beginning to ache. He’d been working on his laptop reviewing file after file since this morning, and Scully had been doing follow up calls. He hated being shoved into this cubicle, complete with its too-small desk and glaring fluorescents. Eternal damnation was not fire and brimstone or some rung of the underworld according to Dante. It was located in the bullpen of the FBI, and they’d been stuck there for the last two weeks, prisoners in background check hell.
He felt bored, he felt tired, he felt pissed. Just close your eyes for minute, he told himself, close your eyes and regroup.
The boom was officially lowered the day after the last audit. Skinner tried to stop it from happening, sending the two of them to placate the auditor, who had, apparently, better contacts than anyone could’ve imagined. The brown- nosing little bastard was outraged at what he termed in his call to good ‘ole Alvin as, “the unconscionable waste of taxpayer’s money devoted to alien snipe hunts, and the offensive behavior of the Agent-in-Charge.”
Skinner’s attempt to have them defuse things failed, and the upshot was that they were pulled once again off the X- Files. Now they spent almost all their waking hours fact checking registrations and licenses for Bureau data bases. To add insult to injury, everyone else on the floor was a wet-behind-the-ears Academy grad, and every morning they were treated to the stare of some young blue-flamer. Mulder knew he would’ve randomly discharged his weapon by now if it wasn’t for Scully. But there she was, serving her sentence right alongside him, the only relief in a sea of monotony and mind-numbing scut work. For some incomprehensible reason she hadn’t reamed him for gumming up the works to begin with. Just the opposite.
The first night after it happened, they drove home, and as soon as they got in the door Scully pointed to the sofa and uttered the three best words of the day, “You. There. Now.” Before he knew it they were doing their impression of a human slip knot, not even bothering to take off their clothes.
In between him thumbing her nipples, and her biting his earlobe, she managed to tell him she planned on working out her frustration on him, unless he had an objection. At first he didn’t. Then he did. Mulder felt a rush of territoriality that for the moment, won out over arousal. In his mind’s eye he saw seven years of brushes with death and bureaucratic bullshit, graveyards and hospital rooms. And he told himself that it wasn’t going to happen–he’d be goddamned if any of that was going to touch this part of their lives. It was only going to be about the two of them, skin against skin, his life locked into place with hers. And so he pressed her, temporarily bringing the proceedings to a grinding halt.
She stared up at him, eyes questioning, confused. “Why? Why talk about it now?”
He cupped her chin with one hand and whispered, “Because I don’t want them to have this.” His free hand stroked her collarbone and came to rest just above her heart.
It was the ache in his voice that did it, and finally, she relented. A long silence and then the words came. Even in her quiet, deliberate way it was obvious that she was angry, but it was all directed at Kersh, at a bureaucracy she had no more patience for. She told him that they would deal with it, they always had, that they always would. She also told him that it didn’t matter in the long run, they were together, that they would get the X-Files back, but yes, it was bad. A minute later her lips were against his ear, her voice liquid as honey, “Make me feel better.”
Cross examination finished, he dragged her to the bathroom announcing it was time for hydrotherapy and peeled off her clothes even though she pretended to fight him off.
With the sound their laughter unfurling all around them, Scully managed to push him into the shower fully clothed and everything about that day dissolved as they fucked standing up, hot water sluicing over them, her without a stitch and him in his full FBI gear. Right now he can hear the water pulse and unkink his stiff neck, smell the soap and her skin and wet wool, feel her…hit him in the head with a paper clip.
His eyes slowly opened, “I detect a disturbance in the Force. Scully, clearly you’ve gone over to the dark side.”
“You’re daydreaming.” She turned her chair to face him, and dangled a box of paperclips in his direction.
“Day dreaming would mean I am not performing my task as a law enforcement officer, that I am violating the trust that…”
“My mistake. You were meditating, ruminating, cogitating, mentally levitating…Come on Mulder, surely one of them applies.”
“I was astral projecting, if you must know. Continuing research. Multi-tasking.”
“Astral projecting, I see. Fascinating as always, Mulder… all on the taxpayer’s dime. And just what, exactly, were you directing your astral body to do?”
He slid himself over to her desk, leaned in and whispered, “My astral body was doing bad bad things to your astral body. Slowly, very very slowly, things of an explicit sexual nature. In fact, on the metaphysical plane, parts of me are grinding into you even as we speak.”
“Really? Funny, I don’t seem to be feeling a thing. Maybe your astral body needs a guidance system.” She flashed him a wicked smile, and he started to move closer.
“Maybe I need directionals that are more…three dimensional. Could you help me with that, Scully?”
Her hand flew up, stopping him, “Hold it right there, I’m sure you don’t want this assignment to be any longer than necessary. I know I don’t. C’mon, there’s a ton of data you need to review and calls I need to make. Break’s over.”
His mercury eyes locked with hers for a minute, then he sat back, threw his arms over his head and stretched. “Oh, fuck it…You have your weapon. Put me out of my misery.”
“What? Right now? I guess I could just shoot you, but I thought the plan was for you to die a slow, lingering death caused by having sex as often as possible, in every conceivable position until you tragically died of exhaustion.” She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and tried to keep on her game face.
“Oh right, that.” His eyes lit up and he let himself take in how heart-stoppingly gorgeous she was, even here, in the middle of the day in the midst of what was without a doubt their crappiest assignment. “You win then, it’s back to the grindstone for yours truly. One thing though, you couldn’t have been diligently making calls and observing my paranormal research at the same time. Are we feeling a little bored, Agent Scully?”
She gave him the raised eyebrow and the scowl, and pointed a well-manicured finger at his desk. “Work, Mulder, work.”Her heart really wasn’t in it and she knew he knew.
“You didn’t answer my question. Tell me.”
“Bored to tears, bored beyond belief, bored to the very core of my being. But I’m plan on getting through this if for no other reason that it will piss off that sanctimonious sonovabitch Kersh.”
“Scully, you always know what to say.” He laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, then slowly moved back into position at the computer. But Mulder managed to notice his partner smiling and shaking her head from the corner of his eye. He was going to get them sprung, at least for a couple of days. The question was how.
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Salvation came at about four o’clock that afternoon in the form of the Private Security Registration Database for the State of Maryland. At first glance, Mulder thought he was just strung out on caffeine, or that this assignment was finally rotting out his brain. But there it was, between Ramos, Daniel– Private Investigator, and Rinnett & Co.,– Corporate Security– Rashad and Reeves, Ltd. He opened the file and sure enough, there were the photos and background data on Calvin Rashad and Terrence Reeves. Could it be possible? These were people he knew, people he liked, people who hated the pencil pushers just as much as he did.
Maybe it was time for a road trip to Baltimore.
When he’d first met them they were all in BSU. Calvin was attached to the unit as a consulting pathologist and Terrence had been the golden-boy profiler until Mulder got assigned to the unit.
The two friends were thick as thieves and not particularly disposed to having a Hallmark moment with a young, white, rich-boy-East-Coast-smartass. They sniffed around him warily until he’d cracked open a serial kidnapping case, following a lead that the SAC explicitly told him to ignore.
Afterward, they became an unholy trio at work, much to the dismay of supervisors. A growing lack of respect for authority, the appearance of unconventional methods, and a killer solve rate was the result of the new alliance–so even though the higher-ups didn’t like it, it meant they were pretty much left alone.
Reeves and Rashad saw that the tall white boy needed some remedial education and decided to take care of it. In between cases, Terrence schooled him in the fine art of the jump shot, and Calvin tutored him in the differences between 12 and 18 year old Scotch. Both of them were constantly on him with what became their chant, ‘Get a woman, and get a life.’ Mulder scrolled down the file again, “Gentlemen,” muttering to himself, “It only took me almost a decade, but mission accomplished.”
Their glory days were short-lived. Terrence soon got transferred to the Atlanta field office as an ASAC, and made sure Calvin followed him there. After that, Mulder found himself alone again, and strange things began to happen. It didn’t take much for him to get fairly strange himself, and it wasn’t long before he won himself a permanent slot in the basement of the Hoover Building. They’d lost touch until about a year ago when he heard that they’d both been shot and seriously wounded in a raid on a drug dealer. When he phoned them in the hospital, he got the usual earful from Terrence, who was quick to playfully lay into him, “Goddamn, Mulder! Nice of you to call…Yeah, I’ll do anything to get close to some pretty, young nurses. I’d ask how you are, but we both know you can’t play basketball worth shit, and I doubt seriously you’re getting laid. Don’t forget, I know what you look like, Spooky.”
When Calvin got on the line he was as direct and circumspect as always, “Reeves and I have thought about freelancing for awhile. I think we’re both clear that staying alive just might mean a slight change of career….It’s just time for us to make a move, Fox. We’ve been lucky for a long time and now it’s time to quit.”
Apparently, by the look of things now, they’d done more than just consider it; they’d gotten out of Bureau and opened their own security firm. Based on the description in the record, they specialized in protecting high profile individuals. Famous people, wealthy people. And from the looks of the gun purchase manifests, it was clear the clientele required that someone have major firepower.
He was going to go for it. He’d call them and if there was any possibility of the existence of God, they’d be available, and the two of them could get the hell of out of the office for a couple of days. Waving at her furiously, he proclaimed, “It’s Salvation time, Scully!”
This display pulled her off the phone, if for no other reason than medical curiosity. Her partner had clearly gone off his rocker again, and she wondered exactly which diagnostic code they were going to use in the hospital this time. On the other hand, she was sure her eyes were going to cross if she made one more phone call. Maybe she’d just cash in her mental health chips and join him. “I was hoping the Second Coming would look a little different than this. What have you got?”
Mulder flipped open his cel and dialed the number on the screen. Someone who said they were an assistant answered the phone, and made sure he let her know that this was a FBI related matter and that he needed to speak with Mr. Reeves or Mr. Rashad immediately. He glanced a Scully, who was tapping furiously on her desk and mouthing ‘What are you doing?’ He mouthed back, “It’s OK…you’ll see,” and winked.
“Calvin Rashad here.”
“Hey, Calvin, it’s Mulder. At least I didn’t wait until the next hospitalization to call.”
Scully came over and stood in front of his desk, she was not about to be left out of the loop. Calvin’s baritone was coming through loud and clear. “Fox! It’s great to hear from you! I’m good, really good. Terrence is his usual self, but hardly otherwordly. We don’t really have anything here to interest an expert on the paranormal, just the lives of the rich and famous. But I suspect you already know what we’re up to, since you made the call. What can we do for you?”
“Well, now that you mention it…” With that Mulder launched into the whole description of their tragic situation, and how Reeves and Rashad held the keys to freedom, if they didn’t mind helping an old pal and his partner. The plan was simple, he and Scully would come to Baltimore for a couple of days, they could see how Reeves & Rashad conducted business, write a glowing report of how the former agents were not trading on their FBI cachet. Mulder hoped they’d bite–it’d keep him from having to be put in restraints again, to say nothing of giving him at least forty-eight glorious hours alone with Scully.
Rashad was chuckling at the other end of the line, “You must have really gotten in A.D. Kersh’s craw. Good for you. Of course you can both come out here, but please come as our guests. No hotel. We have quite the setup for out of town clients. Luckily, we’ve been successful and well…these days we entertain and protect. Come on out and we’ll take care of everything. One thing though, your ‘partner,’ she’s a little more than that, isn’t she?”
“Yes, yes she is. How did you know?”
“Fox, your voice gave you away every time you mentioned her name. Careful, you sound like a man in love.”
“That bad, huh?” Mulder was chuckling himself now. “Listen, you’ll meet her and you’ll see for yourself.” He closed the file, shoved his cellphone in his pocket, picked up an internal line and asked for Assistant Director Kersh.
Kersh’s receptionist tried to take a message, but Mulder told her that this was about the Bureau’s public image and she wouldn’t want to inadvertently withhold information from the Assistant Director. He had to play this just right, so when Kersh picked up he heard one solemn and serious Special Agent. “Sir, I came across a security firm registration that involves two former agents.”
“Yes, Agent Mulder, that’s riveting news. How is this a concern of mine?” The baritone at the other end of the line sounded impatient.
“There’s no discrepancies in the documentation, but there is an issue of whether or not the applicants are using their previous employment as means of promoting themselves. You know sir, if it looks bad, it’s bad for the FBI. What I’d like to do is send someone out there to check into it, someone suitable.” Mulder made sure Kersh could hear the smirk ease into his voice. “Assistant Director, Agent Scully and I are senior agents, and frankly, while this matter needs attention, it’s hardly the kind of work we’re used to.”
“Send someone? Agent Mulder, what you and Agent Scully are used to doing and what I plan on having you do are clearly two different things, in case that hasn’t become clear to you. Since you’ve been so diligent thusfar, I suggest you both get ready to do some field work. Take a couple of days to make a thorough site visit, see how they conduct business. Is that clear, Agent?”
“Crystal, sir.” Mulder let his voice ice up.
“Oh, Agent Mulder?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention.” Click, and then a dead line.
“No Alvin, thank you.” Mulder calmly placed the receiver down and took in his victory. Superior strategy is its own reward, he thought. Screw that, he thought a second later. His arm shot up and he gave the universe a thumb’s up.
“I take it you’re pleased with yourself.” Scully shook her head, poor Alvin never stood a chance against her partner’s machinations.
“You should be pleased with me as well. C’mon, we’re outta here.” With that, he slung on his suitjacket, loosened his tie, and grabbed her by the hand. She could barely get on her blazer and grab her bag. He hustled her into the elevator and by then she’d managed to organize herself. As he hit the button, she looked over at him and tried to sound serious as chuffed, “I know I should be saying something to try to stop you.”
“Since when has that ever worked?”
“Point taken…By the way, what was that I overheard your friend saying? Something to the effect that you sound like a man in love?” She was smiling now.
“There’s definitely a rumor floating around to that effect.” He started fingering the lapel of her jacket. He was smiling too.
“Well then, it would appear that further investigation is in order. Lead on Mulder, lead on.”
They pretty much maintained their professional decorum the rest of the ride down to the garage. As they started to split up to get into their respective cars, she tugged at his sleeve.
“Mulder…” She suddenly felt bold, especially since there didn’t appear to be anyone in her line of vision. “I suggest we drive home as quickly as possible.”
“Why? You can’t be in that much of a hurry to get to Baltimore.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Why? Because we’re going to throw some things into a bag, get to wherever we’re going and complete whatever interview you’ve got planned. Then I’m going get you alone and make you forget every other woman you’ve ever been with.”
Scully felt the blush creep up her neck and across her face. She was so far gone, totally a lost cause. Making sexual overtures at work was proof she’d completely and utterly plunged off the deep end. “I’ve gone and done it now, haven’t I?”
He leaned into her and whispered in her ear, “Not yet. But we will…and soon. There’s no other woman to forget, Scully. No one worth the effort. There’s just you. You know…”
Holding up a finger to shush him, she’d realized they were in the blind spot of surveillance camera for this part of the garage. He started to say something again else but she grabbed him on either side of his face and kissed him soundly. He had that deer- in-the-headlights look, which spurred her onward. She managed to quell that last little shred of reserve by reminding herself this mouth-to-mouth demo wasn’t being recorded for posterity. Before he could do anything else she kissed him again, hard, and then ran and jumped into her car. Out the driver’s window she yelled, “Get going, Agent Mulder.”
Scully was treated to the sight of him walking to his car like a man in a trance, slowly opening the door and easing in. She could barely make it out, but she was sure she heard, “Whatever you say, Agent Scully…whatever you say.” As he put the key in the ignition, she could see he was grinning like an idiot.
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True to her word, Scully made it back first, ran into the apartment and headed for the bedroom and started packing an overnight bag. Pulling up a few minutes later, Mulder waited a minute before going inside. He flipped open his cel again and hit the number for Reeves and Rashad. Calvin picked up this time.
“Calvin, it’s me again. Listen, I know it’s asking a lot, but I want this trip to be special. Completely different from what she’s used to. Could you handle a few things for me?” He took Calvin’s laughter on the other end as a ‘yes’ “Here’s my credit card number. Now here’s what I was thinking…Right, that’s what I want…You can? Great….Oh you did? Perfect… That should just about do it.” He was finally going give Scully a surprise that didn’t involve crop circles, ectoplasm or an ER–it was way overdue. He out of the car and sprinted the rest of the way until he was at the apartment door. He fumbled with his keys, and was just about to turn the lock when Scully opened the door.
She was breathless, barefoot and half-dressed, wearing black pants, an unbuttoned green shirt, a black lace bra. “Finally. Get that profiling ass of yours in here, I was serious about being in a hurry.” She grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him inside.
“In a hurry to go or did you have something else in mind? You don’t exactly look like you’re ready to conduct official business.” He eyed her up and down and could see she was clearly a woman on a mission. A mission that hopefully featured nudity and them playing a hot and sweaty round of ‘connect the body parts.’ For now, he’d try to be a good boy and wait. Still, he couldn’t resist seizing the opportunity to toss some innuendo.
She was buttoning up and looking for her shoes, “Go change, I’ve got stuff packed for the two of us. The sooner we leave, the sooner we conduct the interview, the sooner…”
He jumped on that one, “The sooner you can conduct a comparative anatomy lesson.”
“Something like that. Go.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“We’ll see about that later,” and swatted him on the arm. “Go. On.”
“Yes, dear.” Mulder headed quickly to the bedroom before Scully could hurl anything at his head.
All it took was a few minutes and Mulder changed into the usual jeans and gray T-shirt, had snatched his leather jacket and the overnight bag, and now was the impatient one scuttling Scully out the door, out of the building and down the front stairs.
She was just about to ask whose car were they going to use when she heard someone’s voice, “Mr. Mulder? Ms. Scully? Mr. Reeves and Mr. Rashad sent me to drive you.” He was standing next to a car next door to Scully’s apartment. The car a was a late model, black Lincoln sedan, and the voice belonged to a young man wearing a chauffeur’s uniform. He looked like an Iowa farmboy, young, hungry-eyed, and built like the proverbial brick shit-house. The look was completed by a Corp-style buzz-cut. The young centurion was standing at attention, but managed to break formation long enough to motion them to the car.
They started toward him, with Scully walking just slightly ahead. Her eyed narrowed and she let her head fall back to ask, “The Marines have arrived. Now what?”
He slipped his arm over Scully’s shoulder and whispered, “There’s nothing wrong with discipline, loyalty, and the ability to kill a man barehanded at close range. Semper fi, Scully, just go with it.”
“Semper fi, my ass.” The eye-rolling had commenced.
“I’m ready to pledge my allegiance, but you’ll have to wait until we get in the car.”
“Mulder, don’t let your mouth write a check your body can’t cash, ” was her zippy rejoinder.
He leaned into her even more, his breath hot in her ear, “That was a mistake.” He could feel her shudder. “It’s on, Scully, the games have begun.”
Corp-Boy opened the car door with a flourish, “Ma’am, allow me.”
Scully treated Mulder to the sight of her delicious ass as she bent to slide her way into the cavernous interior. He got in alongside her, dropping the bag on the floor and sprawling across the backseat. Tactical positioning was completed by draping one leg over hers, and snaking an arm around her waist. “Comfy, Scully?…I know I am.” Then, to the young hero at the wheel, “I think it’s time we blew this pop stand.” Then someone hit the control console in the back seat, and the driver could hear muffled laughter as the privacy window whirred shut.
They sat in silence for quite a few minutes. Mulder was humming, slouched lazily, arm draped against the back seat. Scully was tucked comfortably at his side, but her bliss was interrupted by one thought. Payback was rumored to be a bitch, and Mulder hadn’t said anything since they’d left.
“Mulder, are you OK?”
“Uh huh, why shouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you haven’t said anything for at least fifteen minutes.”
“Don’t need to.”
“Are you planning on telling me exactly where we’re going?”
“Nope.”
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Mulder shifts his weight and moves to rest on his hip, facing Scully. He slides off her jacket against the sound of her feeble protests, his eyes roving across her face. Then he takes her hand in his, brings it to his mouth and starts tracing swirling patterns across her palm, up her wrist, along her forearm. Scully feels her heart speeding up, her breathing becoming more rapid. Without thinking, she murmurs, “That’s so…good.” Feelng him laugh softly against her skin, she realizes somebody was getting even. “Mulder!”
Before she can say another word, he’s kissing her neck — slowly nipping at her, pausing only to ask. “Making you crazy yet?”
Scully now knows how quickly a vague sense of arousal can become a precise and achy point between her legs. “You have no idea.” She pulls away just enough for Mulder to see that the blue of her eyes are flecked with gold, the pupils dark with excitement.
He leans in and runs his finger along the curve of her mouth, teasing her lower lip. “You know, I’ve always had this fantasy about getting a Catholic girl in the back seat of a limo.”
“Really? And do you get her to go all the way…in this fantasy?” Letting her tongue skim the edge of his finger, she smiles as his eyes darken and his breath hitches.
“Something like that.” He was already hard as a knife, but he was gong to be patient tonight. They started a call and response, a few words punctuating the silence, moving subtly, but deliberately.
“There?” The corner of her mouth first, then he captures all of her, and starts to part her lips with his tongue.
A sharp intake of breath, as she stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “My turn.”
“Your turn?” he asks in a whisper.
She leans down and licks the notch of his collarbone.
A sound like a low hum in his throat. “Not so fast, Scully.”
The rustle of fabric, and the slide of her shirt. “There?” The hollow between her shoulder blades.
“Yes.” Her breath’s ragged now, as he licks a snaky trail with slow, torturous strokes.
“There?” The inside of his thigh. Her fingers dragging their way slowly up and down. ”
Yes. Jesus, yes.”
“There?” The tender spot just behind her ear, then her earlobe, then the slope of her neck.
“I…oh, I…yes.”
He draws his fingers across her shoulders, brings them to her cleavage. He runs his fingers lightly over the rise of her breasts. “There?” Mulder could feel her sway underneath his touch, it stuns him how passionate she was, how her desire resonated through her whole body.
“Please…”
Scully’s takes her one of her hands and begins lightly stroking Mulder’s thighs again. “There?”
“Don’t…stop.” He could barely get the words out.
Her fingers trace a path to his hip, then flutter all the way down, finally unzipping his pants, wrapping her hand around his cock. He’s already past buttons and zippers, stroking her to wetness with one hand, and unfastening her bra with the other. Bending forward to swirl his tongue over a nipple, Scully slides her hand up and down in agonizing, maddening strokes. ‘Long route,’ are the last two words in Mulder’s vocabulary for quite a while. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was sometime later, although neither one of them was too aware of the passage of time, long enough for Corp- Boy to have made to it Baltimore. He’d parked the Lincoln down the block from Reeves and Rashad’s office, gotten out and was now tapping on the back window.
“I think we’ve stopped.” Scully had ceased tracing lazy circles on his chest long enough to offer that flash of insight. A second later and she’d snapped to attention, and was furiously trying to get herself together.
Mulder’s eyes were still closed, his head lolling back against the cool leather upholstery. He wasn’t able to shift gears as quickly but he could hear her rummaging the wetbar. His opened slowly to a disheveled, tousled-haired Scully, one arm in her shirt, bra partially fastened. She was gorgeous, she was unbelievable, she was about to hurl some napkins at him.
“I guess the mood’s been broken.” Mulder sat up, sighing, “I’ll try to make myself presentable.” He was momentarily transfixed by the sight of her bra still half undone, one breast almost spilling out of those wisps of lace. “Or I could help you first.”
She wagged a finger at him and tsked. “I think I’m still able to dress myself. Come on Mulder, hurry please. I really don’t want the Corp thinking it’s got to come to our rescue.”
Over the next several minutes, they toweled off, shoved themselves back into their clothes, buttoned up, zipped up and tried to give the appearance of two normal passengers just arriving from D.C. The tapping went on unabated, coupled with, “Mr. Mulder? Ms. Scully?” Corp-Boy knew better than to open the passenger door. After all, he’d driven Arrowsmith around last month.
“Remind me to get you in the back seat of a car more often.” Mulder flung the door open with one hand, then pulled Scully out and grabbed the overnighter with the other, and victoriously emerging at last. Corp-Boy took his cue that it was time to go, so as soon as he was sure his party was planted on terra firma, he hauled himself into the Lincoln and pulled away.
Scully scanned the immediate view, recognizing Baltimore’s familiar rowhouses. About 100 feet away was a squat, cinderblock building with a neon sign that glowed red with the words: Reeves and Rashad. A bar? An office that looked like a bar? “So, this is our destination, eh? OK, Mulder, we’ve gone out of state so that you can take me to the corner tavern. A little weird for a site visit, wouldn’t you say?”
“Your lack of faith in me is appalling, Scully. When have I ever taken you anyplace weird? Well…since this morning, anyway.”
Standing in front of some of those squat houses was a tall, gray-eyed man with toffee-colored skin and a headfull of short, spiky dreads. He had a strong jaw and a full mouth, with traces of laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. He seemed confident, at ease as he signaled the two of them. The look was completed by a full-on thousand-watt smile, a navy silk Versace suit and a white Italian cotton shirt open at the collar. It was Terrence Reeves, looking a lot less like a former ASAC. A lot less.
They started toward him, with Scully walking at her usual brisk clip, leaving him several feet behind as he took his sweet time. His head still back in the car, replaying key scenes from the drive over. He wondered how often he could rent a limo…
Keeping her eyes on the man approaching she asked, “You’re telling me this guy was in BSU? That he was an ASAC?”
From behind her she could hear, “Let’s just say working with celebrities encourages a certain look.” He could see that Reeves already had a bead on Scully, and wasn’t sure he was all that happy to see his friend after all.
“Mulder, glad you’re here. Really glad.” Odd, because Terrence wasn’t looking at Mulder at all, but at his companion. Reeves was a consummate button-presser. It’d made him a good interrogator, amongst other things, and tonight he was going to enjoy the hell out of getting a rise out of his old friend from the BSU. The very lovely woman with him was looking more and more like the means to that particular end.
Mulder was watched as Terrence acquired his target, positioning himself so all that was visible was a couple thousand dollars’ worth of imported suit. Jaw tightening, he did the math, it was starting already.Time to flex those Alpha male muscles, and quick.
“T, I’m over here.” Mulder pointed to himself and waived. He’d closed the gap, so that he was a couple of feet behind the two of them.
Without turning around, Terrence drawled, “I know, G, I know.” To Scully, “I’m Terrence Reeves, and believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” He dipped his head to hers, draped her arm over his and mouthed “Follow me.” She locked eyes with him for a fraction of a second and when he raised his head, she flashed a conspiratorial grin just beyond Mulder’s line of vision.
“You must be Dana! I’m sorry such a beautiful woman is saddled with the likes of this guy. But at least it means I have a chance to meet you.”
Mulder was sure a line like that would earn his friend the 30 below treatment from his one and only. What he heard caught him by surprise. Instead of the withering retort, the patented Scully put-down, he heard this candy-coated response, “Terrence, you wouldn’t mind showing me around, would you?” Turning to Mulder, “Just trying to get this interview underway, partner.” The insult to this injury was the sight of Scully actually letting Reeves steer her toward the door by guiding her with his hand at the small of her back.
Mulder followed the two of them, the bag in tow and feeling like he was somebody’s faithful manservant. And he could sense the hackles rising on the green-eyed monster. What the hell was going on? He mumbled something about someone still being a dick after all these years, while attempting to telepathically drill a hole in the back of Reeves’ head. The jury was still out as to what he thought about Scully, although he seriously considered the possibility of mind control.
But if Terrence noticed, his behavior didn’t waiver, neither did Scully’s. They just strolled right along, making some inane chatter. Mulder thought he must be hallucinating. This was a woman who charged down halls in a flak jacket, who dug up the dead and sliced open corpses, who told him to shut his Oxford-educated mouth when she was fed up with him. His love, his life, who was practically plastered against a guy she’d never seen before five minutes ago.
Terrence started to open the door for her, and announced “Any man you’re with should consider himself damn lucky. Let’s hope my man Mulder here’s picked up on that. For someone so smart, I hear sometimes he misses the big picture. Me, I try not to make that kind of mistake.”
That was it. Mulder darted under Terrence’s arm, got himself wedged against his beloved and removed Reeves’ arm and the offending hand from its spot, pushing their bag into his hand. Reeves darted thru the doorway and took in the sight of the two of them, fairly amused with himself. He held the overnighter in front of his chest, “Hey Spooky, did you want me to do something with this?”
His friend shot him a look, “Well, you could shove it…”
Terrence cut him off, laughing. “Maybe I’ll just stow it behind the bar.”
“Good idea.”
Mulder pulled her in front of him and wrapped his arms around her chest. Sliding his feet behind her and bumping himself into the small of her back, they waddled through the door, with her laughter getting louder the further they walked. “That’s it, Scully, move it or lose it.” To Reeves, “Sorry to cut in, but you know how it is.”
They made their way toward Terrence and Scully noticed a small, hand-lettered note on the door: Private party. For a second, it didn’t register that they were the party in question. “Mulder, There’s something gong on here tonight.”
“Yes, my dear Watson, brilliant deduction. We’re what’s going on tonight.. But before the festivities begin, let me introduce you to Calvin Rashad.” He nudged her with his knee just above her tattoo.
Calvin was standing behind the bar, looking more like a professor of literature than an ex-agent. He was taller than the other two men, with chocolate-colored skin, high cheekbones, and a Roman nose atop which sat a pair of round tortoiseshell glasses. To complete the scholarly appearance, he wore an immaculate blue Oxford shirt buttoned to the top, a herringbone tweed vest, and corduroy slacks.
“Well, let me come out and properly greet the two of you. He moved from behind the bar, walked over to them, and extended his hand first to Mulder. “Fox, I have to say, you look damn happy.” He then took both of Scully’s hands in his as he greeted her.
“Dana, glad to meet you, I’m Calvin Rashad. From the looks of things, you’ve had a positive effect on our usually dour friend here.”
Calvin gestured them forward to the barstools. “C’mon, let’s get you two settled in.” Looking over at his own partner who’d slipped behind the long curve of the bar, “I’m assuming Terrence has been his usual charming self.”
Mulder moved from behind Scully, keeping his arm around her waist, walked her up her to the bar and watched appreciatively as she slid into a seat, “Like always.” They both got comfortable, stripping off their jackets and throwing them on a nearby stool.
Scully took in her surroundings. As plain as the building was on the outside; it was beautifully done on the inside. The bar itself was mahogany; the stools were leather, the lighting soft, a pressed tin ceiling stretched overhead. A long gilt-frame mirror spanned the wall behind the bar, reflecting the four of them. There was a small dance floor on the other side of the room and a old style jukebox. The tables and had been put up, except for one, bracketed by two chairs. “This is your office? Quite…remarkable.”
Calvin had joined his partner on the other side of the bar. “Actually, this is where we where we house out-of-town clients. Many of them are entertainers and musicians… with the bar and bedroom in back we offer them something comfortable and private. Our business office is on the waterfront. It’s a little more official looking than this.”
Terrence offered his perspective, “Plus, having this place gives us an excuse to play the best music on earth, R &B…blues….jazz. And I always told myself I’d have a bar one day. Finally lived long enough to merge business with pleasure.” He winked at Scully, “Looks like you and Mulder here have, too. Or am I wrong?”
He was treated to the sight of her staring at her partner over the bridge of her nose, as if to say, ‘You want to handle that one, Oxford-Boy?’
Mulder jumped on that, “Propriety is my middle name, Terrence. As a matter of fact, we’re here to assess how you recruit these clients. Is there any use of your previous employment status in the marketing of your firm?” He’d tried strapping on the serious, big-dog-in- the-house attitude and he would have pulled it off, except for the bar straw sticking out of the corner of his mouth.
Not to be outdone, Reeves volleyed back, “You need to backup on that one, Tall-Boy.” He started laughing, “Hell, we built this business on looking bad, talking tough, and being the meanest hombres on the playing field.”
Scully, for her part, was watching this little testosterone display with rapt fascination, imagining what it would have been like to have been in the BSU with the two of them. She hypothesized that working with both of them would have forced her to violate her Hippocratic Oath; she’d willingly use extreme measures to rein them in.
It was Calvin who was the voice of reason, “Fox, we really didn’t have to exploit our backgrounds. It was more advantageous to hint at some vague cloak and dagger history. People love danger by association when its implied. Tell A.D. Kersh that Reeves and Rashad, Ltd. are totally on the up and up. And when I get to the office, I’ll ask Gloria to messenger all our promotional material to you in D.C., enough for you to wallpaper Alvin’s office. Satisfied?”
Mulder was. He loosened up, wagging his head, “Works for me. This work for you, Agent Scully?”
Unlike her usual response, she heard herself reply, “Very much so, Agent Mulder.” In any other circumstance, she’d feel guilty, duty-bound, ready to go through a a more thorough investigation; but something in her was utterly committed to this great escape. It was obvious that Rashad and Reeves didn’t need to hype their firm, and there would be enough paper to collectively cover everyone’s asses. Seven years with her impulsive, iconoclastic partner had finally rubbed off. Screw it, she told herself, screw the bullshit, and live a little. “I believe we have enough information…what do you recommend we do next?”
Mulder turned to her and mouthed, ‘Alriiiight.’ In a crisp, clear and unmistakably delighted voice he announced to everyone in the room, “I believe it’s time to par-tay!”
Calvin took this as his cue, while Terrence leaned against the back of the bar to watch the kick-off of the festivities. “Well, let’s start things off right. Fox placed quite the tall order, but we were able to comply.” With that, he reached down and pulled out shot glasses, and a bottle of vodka–Russian, but rare and hard to come by–Scully recognized it was a brand you needed friends who still had contacts in Customs to procure for you. The bottle was sparkling with a thin sheen of frost, Calvin set it in a bucket filled with more ice. Rashad turned away for a minute and went to the refrigerator just behind him. He came back with a covered, silvery tray. “Oh yes, Fox had us get this too.” As he pulled off the lid, Scully took in the coup de gras–caviar–sevruga–ridiculously costly– Mulder had insisted on this too.
“I’m…speechless.” Scully looked completely bowled over. Just what Mulder wanted. She drew his hands onto her lap and began to trace a lazy ‘S’ against his palms. She was completely fazed, she’d never been the object of this kind of attention, and never thought she would be.
He leaned toward her and said softly, “Sorry it took so long.” Despite the fact that there were two other people in the room, he began to place tiny kisses along her cheek, threading his fingers in her hair.
Calvin and Terrence tossed each other a look: it was time to go. Rashad cocked his head toward the door, and Reeves nodded. Mulder and Scully didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to anyone else but each other.
Just before they were about to leave, Terrence yelled playfully, “Sure you won’t miss us? We could stay… ”
Mulder and Scully’s heads snapped around in unison. “No!” Scully grinning, waived goodbye; while Mulder shooed them away.
“Didn’t really think so, but I wanted to hear it from you. We’re gonna lock you in here, and…” His voiced trailed off, Goddamn, they were already back at it. Terrence shrugged and turned to his friend. “C’mon partner, let’s roll. No need to stay where we’re not wanted.”
Outside, as he checked the door, Calvin ran down the drill with Terrence. “Keep a line open. He’ll call when they’re ready. I’m on my way to the office; looks like one of our clients needs some hand holding. You got his back, right?”
“You know it. Hers too.” Reeves got in to the car and waited until his partner drove off. As he put the key in the ignition, he made his own assessment of the two people they’d just left. Mad love. Mad love, indeed.
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Mulder placed a shot in Scully hand. She was perched on the edge of the stool, looking far too luscious for her own good. It was time to kick this bad boy into full gear. He broke out his best mangled Russian accent. “Tonight, we leave behind our miserable lives as Moose and Squirrel. We are Boris and Natasha, partaking of the vodka, the caviar. There will be no talk of the miserable work of law enforcement.”
“Boris, how can I ever thank you?” Scully rolled the glass between her hands. She thought she just might be a femme fatale, at least in his eyes.
“A drink first, Natasha, and maybe later you’ll let Boris inside your trenchcoat. Hold up your glass.” They were both laughing as she dutifully complied. Mulder was in rare form, “Following my lead without an argument? There’s a first.” He touched the rim of his glass with hers, and the mood shifted, and he looked at her with an almost unbearable tenderness. And something else. Expectancy.
Something broke open in her in that split second. Two weeks ago she pledged herself to him with a willing body and claimed him for her own. But there was one last step, one last thing held back until just this instant. A truth burst free from the last of her reserve, her fear. Something about the paper thin impermanence of life compelled her to turn a corner and not look back.
The air around them seemed to still, “Let me make a toast…Graim thu.” She held his gaze in hers, and gave him a grave, beautiful smile. One that held the future.
“I know that wasn’t Russian, Scully. Should I guess?”
“It’s Gaelic…it means I love you.” She didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.
Mulder struggled to let the weight of this sink into his psyche, his soul. She’d said it, finally said it. His voice was raw when he tried to tell her, “You know you don’t have to…I know…I…”
She took her free hand and rested it against his cheek, “You’re wrong. I do and I will, from now on.”
He rallied and gave her a smile of his own, “Well then, I guess it’s time to celebrate.”
On cue, they downed the first icy shot. It was smooth, cold at first against their lips, then as it swirled down their throats, it changed into warm silk, a sensual charge. Scully felt it ripple through her chest, feel it work. “Mulder, you have me where you want me.”
Mulder felt his chest expand with warmth, a surge of excitement. He wanted nothing more than to explore every inch of her skin, in every way he could think of. “Let me show you how to eat this Russian-style. Give me your hand.” Mulder reached over, took one and splayed it, palm down against his. With his free hand, he reached over and picked up a spoon of caviar, and smeared it on the soft curve between her forefinger and thumb. “Now this is the most important part.” He brought the crescent of flesh to his mouth, slipped the cold luxury and warm skin between his lips. “Delicious.” His lips parted in a slow, lazy smile, and held out one of his hands. “Now, it’s your turn.”
Scully prided herself in being a quick study. She repeated the move: his hand, soft spot near the thumb, caviar, and then her mouth gliding across his skin. She finished, but didn’t take her lips away, kissing the spot, letting herself linger. A moment passed and she raised her head, and saw Mulder’s eyes were closed, his head tilted back slightly. “Good?”
He opened his eyes and leaned into her, brushing his lips against hers, “Very good…But there’s something else I want…Dance with me.”
“Mulder…I…I don’t …” She was surprised and a little embarrassed. She’d been firing her weapon and sublimating and cutting open cadavers for so long that she wasn’t sure she remembered how.
As if he read her mind, Mulder whispered, “You know how, Scully. So do I. I want to make up for lost time… Say yes.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “For lost time, then… yes”
He took her by the arm and walked her to the juke box. It was packed with Marvin Gaye, Miles, Nina Simone, The Shirelles, Monk, Howlin’ Wolf…classics. They flipped through the huge amount of choices, until Mulder spied G11 — Otis Redding.
He pulled a quarter out of his pocket, shoved it in the slot, and the sounds of “More Than Words Can Say” cascaded through the room. Longingly sensual, Otis’ raspy plea swelled around them, ‘I just couldn’t wait, not for another day.’ Mulder wrapped his arm around her waist and they slowly circled the floor. Bending toward her, he started kissing her brow, her cheek, easing to her mouth. Otis’ voice swelled with the ache of being denied for so very long. ‘You’ve got me in your hand, why can’t you understand?’
The truth of how much he loved her vibrated through her body each time his lips connected with her skin. He stopped kissing her and drew his fingertips down her cheek, down her throat to his shoulder. “Graim thu,” he whispered, over and over again until her mouth silenced his.
They circled the the tiny dance floor. Mouths kept moving against skin–kisses merging into Gaelic, Gaelic merging into the song. ‘Baby, please,’ cried Otis. They were sinking, sinking, drowning in the feel of each other, dissolving. Breathless, they stilled, and drank in the moment, this impossible thing.
As Otis crooned, ‘I love you…more than words can say,’ Mulder leaned in and whispered, “Always.”
Scully’s warm mouth hungrily sought his, her tongue parting his lips. She wasn’t dancing anymore, she was flying.
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She’s still flying. Her tongue’s mapping every inch of the inside of his mouth, her lips hotly sealed over his. Her hands are squeezing his shoulders, and then in an instant, it’s all reversed. He’s mouth’s on hers and he’s almost reeling from the sharp sting of vodka, the salt sea-taste of caviar, and the underlying richness that is just her. The tip of his tongue flicks against her lower lip, and he hums low in his throat as she draws it into her mouth. Tongues tease and slide against each other, and the crush of lips is as explosive as a binary star. Then they’re moving, and it’s not clear who started it, but they’re all of a sudden sprawled in one of the two chairs on the tiny dance floor. The shot glasses are clumsily slammed on the table, and their hands are all over each other again as they struggle to get purchase. When the dust settles, he’s sitting, and he’s drawn her between his legs. She’s half standing, and her hands are gripping his shoulders. They’re both breathing heavily.
And then they break the kiss, staring at each other, silent and stunned with the enormity of their want, feebly searching for the strength to speak. Seconds pass, minutes, too. It is possible that it’s become so quiet they can hear the grinding of tectonic plates.
A confident smile eases its way across her face. “If I take the guesswork out of this for you, will you still respect me in the morning?”
“Respect. Want. Need. I have a selection here to pick from.”
“What if I’m interested in all of the above.”
“I think I can arrange that.”
She brushes the hair away from his forehead and her eyes drop briefly to his mouth, “Make love to me, Mulder.”
Now he’s the one with the confident smile, “I think it’s time for bed.” And he takes her hand and heads for the door behind the bar.
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They know what they’re doing, where they’re going, but walking from the dance floor to the backroom and crossing the threshold into the bedroom leaves them a little breathless. Just when they both think they’re as connected as two people could ever be, they descend to some underground aquifer, some deeper place where they submerge even more into the deepest parts of themselves and each other.
It’s hugely satisfying to see that the bed itself is enormous, with a carved, dark wood headboard, down pillows, red Thai silk comforters. There’s also silk and cotton sheets, which they notice as Mulder peels them away with one hand. His other is still holding Scully’s, he can’t bear to not be touching her right now. The contact means the promise can’t be broken, the dream over.
They sit wordlessly on the edge of the bed, and slowly undress each other. This is some kind of braille, some kind new language where everything spoken by touch. Their clothing pools on the floor, no longer an interruption. Now comes the time for the poetry only skin can tell.
Her skin is incandescent, hot against body when she drapes herself over him–he is staggered by how combustible it all feels. He buries his open mouth in the hollow of her throat and has a fleeting mental image of burn marks on the sheets as he wraps his hands around her hips.
Scully pulls herself up and away, and whispers “I want to make you feel everything.” She moves, marks him subtly, lightly strafing his ribs with her nails, the knob of his shoulder with her teeth. Unhurried, she takes what seems like an eternity and traces some secret symbols across his chest with her tongue, savoring salt and skin and her own abandon.
Mulder knows every good deed deserves a reward, so he rolls over and rasps his thumbs over her lips, her stomach and hips, tormenting, gentle strokes replaced with harder kisses. He spends what seems like forever on her breasts, swirling his tongue over a nipple, then roughing both them with his teeth and she thinks she might be losing her mind. She wants to cry out, but the feel of his mouth on hers is too good to stop. Her tongue flickers in his mouth like lamplight, like memory.
This is devastating, this arousal. It’s their special brand of fusion. He can taste how he tastes on her, and no vodka was ever this intoxicating. As if she can read his mind, she moans her assent.
She slips a hand between her legs, warm, slick wetness coating her fingers. She draws the pads of her fingertips up the underside of his cock, the heat of them marking him from the tip to the base. She fully cradles him in her palm, he is her treasure. She strokes him, rubbing her thumb along the edge of his cock, making a sacred circle, thinking about the snake on her back and eternity. Mulder traces his thumb against her clit, around and around, crowning her with a halo as he calls her ‘angel.’
He takes his thumb and licks it clean before sitting up and tugging her to the huge pillows by the headboard. She straddles him and he makes use of both hands. One of hers has slid around his cock again, and the other is tracing the edges of his mouth.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispers.
“So are you,” he whispers in response.
He quickly slides his fingers inside her in a smooth plunge. The sight of his hand between her legs brings him to the edge. He bites down on his lower lip to keep from coming, he wants to last, he wants to do so much more to her, with her. She’s wet and soft and tight, those gorgeous reddish curls parted and baring the rose-dark slippery flesh. He spreads her open, and she grinds into his palm. He can feel her clit, a fleshy knot against the ball of his thumb. He wants to make her come like this first, wants to see her body blush for him, wants to feel her body contract and soar.
He can hardly believe it when she stills his hand and with one of hers draws down the hard, sleek length of him, sliding the head of his cock just inside of her. Now her fingertips swirl up and down, and she feels him surge as her hand closes around him at the root.
In the two weeks they’d been lovers the sex had been urgent, playful, sensual, loving. And in one of those times there had been a split second where some forever kind of branding had slipped under the radar before either one of them was fully ready to consciously acknowledge it.
It was inescapable now, stripping back the old hurts, sealing the wounds. She’d seen him wracked with pain, scraped raw with grief and guilt, on the verge of psychotic, but never like this–losing himself in a joy so primal, so basic, she thinks it might change the way he looks forever. But the alchemy only happens on the inside, his face stays the same, here he is, her own truly beloved and as she keeps looking into his eyes she sees herself, that same joy reflected there.
“You know…don’t you?” he breathes, as the world beyond the world cracks open. In one fluid motion, she’s underneath him, and he covers her body like a canopy.
“Yes, yes,” she breathes in counterpoint. It is knowledge that is liberating.
“You’re not afraid?” he asks in a ragged breath, hoping, hoping.
“No…only that we’ll forget.” She is barely able to speak.
“Never.” He presses her hand against his heart so hard there is a print when she moves it to join the other one at the base of his cock.
“Never.” She doesn’t blink when he slides into her deep with one, long, slick stroke, and her hands falls away.
She gasps as he hitches her legs under his arms. Now he was there again, hitting her clit just right, slow at first, and then faster as he feels her clench and tense around him. She keeps her eyes open, to let him know – to make sure he knows. Pleasure shoots through her like sheet lightning, and one small part of the universe rends apart in a bright, red hot second. She rides the wave within herself, over and over. Dying a thousand little deaths, twisting underneath him, she’s trying to say the words, but the only thing issuing from her mouth were those wordless words, the ones for him alone.
She’s still coming, but it’s fading now, like the outermost eddy on far surf. He wants to tell her all the secrets he’s ever known, but he’s thrusting, in and out and there was nothing else but how hot and tight and wet she was. He’s at the brink when she murmur, ‘Look what you do to me’, and the trembling starts, and the blood roars in his ears and the shattering overtakes him, again and again, and the new truth is sealed in his heart as he pours himself into her.
Sweat drips from his hair onto her neck, his voice little more than a sigh, and he sinks on top of her. Wrapping her arms and legs around him in a four-limbed embrace, she’s his little jailer, holding him captive against her breasts, her lion’s heart.
He pulls his head away from the curve of her shoulder and tries to look at her, his eyes heavy lidded, his voice slurred and sleepy, “This old guy’s not gonna last much longer.”
“Don’t worry, she says as she guides his head down and smoothes his hair, “I’ll be here when you wake up, ‘Space Cowboy’.” She’s teasing him, but there’s love there, too.
“So, I’m your ‘Gangster of Love’?” The words come out as a mumble, and his breath hitches, draws long and deep.
“There’s no other.” She smiles as she feels him smile against the swell of her breast, and sighs when she feels his sleep come.
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“Hey.” Mulder’s eyes open slowly and she’s good for her word. She’s watching him, threading her fingers through his hair, looking serious, but deeply happy, too. He thinks he’s achieved at least one point in his favor on the cosmic scoreboard. He also thinks that any chance he has at all to keep score, to give a damn, is due exclusively to the fact of her in his life. Right now, both things please him. “Anything you’d like to share with the class?”
This get a chuckle from her, “It’s a little late for an interrogation…I just couldn’t sleep.”
“I think I’m the one who’s supposed to say that.” He rolls off her, but then pulls her over so that they’re face to face. He slips an arm under his head and she mirrors him. “You better tell me now before I sic my partner on you.”
This gets a full, throaty laugh, “You win, I hear she’s tough. Well, if you must know, I was thinking about opportunities…lost and found.”
He feels his heart stutter for a moment. Even though in the deepest way, he knows it’s all good, that she’s his, there’s that one part of his dazzling, eidetic dura matter that only recognizes the words ‘opportunities’ and ‘lost.’ He wishes he had the usual kind of faith, but what he has is her and he has to ground himself in her eyes before asking, “And your conclusion?”
She caught the split second when his face almost collapsed, and the swell of love for him tightens her throat, roughens her voice, “I was thinking about the life I thought I’d have and the one I do.”
He forges ahead, stepping out on some belief in her, in them. He realizes that he has no idea where it came from except from seven years of devotion and hearing tonight, ‘Graim thu.’ “So tell me.”
She smiles because she knows this is the good part, “I realized that I’d lost the chance for the kind of life I’d always wanted. Security. Stability. Children.” She took a deep breath, “I believed for a long time that was it, and I didn’t let myself hope for anything else.”
Her eyes glitter with unshed tears, and she stops him from putting his fingers across her lips. “But I found the courage to want something else, the courage to see that I had another life, and that together, we could have something wonderful….I miss what chances I lost, but I have joy in my life because of what is.” She keeps gazing into his eyes, and lets some bravado into her voice now, “You make me happy Mulder, you’re just gonna have to live with it.” Judging by his wide eyes and the grin about to split his face, she’s satisfied her words have hit their mark.
He tries, unsuccessfully, to pull out his serious face from his usual bag of tricks, “What about when we’re back at work, slugging through one more hopelessly boring background check? Worse yet, what about if we get the X-Files back….”
She cuts in, trying to match his seriousness, failing miserably, “…when we get the X-Files back and you’re grating on my last nerve with some arcane explanation of some bizarre occurrence in the middle of Bumblefuck?
“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘brilliantly cutting to the heart of yet another dark mystery.’ ” His eyes flutter shut as she leans into him and begins to nuzzle his jaw, kiss the smooth spot just under his chin. He feels the blood rushing south, “Better yet, just tell me how I’m ever gonna get used to this.”
“Practice, Mulder, practice.” Scully stops what she’s doing and gathers him to her.
“I guess that means conversation’s over.” He picks up where she left off, and the only sound in the room is the two of them laughing.
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