Blur (1/2) by Leyla Harrison Disclaimer: Chris Carter is a god. Oops, sorry. Chris Carter owns Mulder and Scully. Spoilers: Fight the Future. If you haven't seen the movie yet and don't want to be spoiled, don't read this. Classification: VA, MSR Rating: R Summary: Mulder and Scully reflect on what could have been and are faced with what could be. **** Scully was ready to walk out with no goodbye, no apology, no emotion. First I was in shock. Then I was almost in tears. I don't want to believe that for years she felt like she had been holding me back, as if her presence by my side had done nothing but hinder me. I told her the truth. I was more honest with her than I had ever been. I knew if I wasn't, she was going to walk away for good. "As difficult and as frustrating as it's been sometimes, your goddamn strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over. You've kept me honest. You made me a whole person. I owe you everything Scully, and you owe me nothing. I don't know if I want to do this alone. I don't even know if I can." I don't think that she saw that coming. She didn't think that in a million years she would ever hear those words tumble forth from the lips of Fox Mulder. Never. And yet when I looked in her eyes, I could tell that she knew that I was telling her the truth. That I needed her. That I couldn't go on without her. She cried. I know how hard that must have been for her. For a thousand reasons, crying in front of others has to be hard for Scully. God, I don't know if she can even do it in solitude. I know she doesn't want to be seen as weak or helpless. She doesn't want people to see her as a typical woman who is ruled by her emotions. She has never wanted for me to think of her as any less than my partner, my equal. And yet she cried in front of me, unafraid, unashamed. The world did not end. The sky did not fall. I don't remember who made the first move, who reached out for comfort first. Whose arms wrapped around who first. I don't think it matters. When her head was against my chest, I felt as if we were the only two people in the world who understood anything. She kissed me on the forehead. I took her face in my hands. And I knew that I was going to kiss her. She knew it as well. In a way, I knew that both Scully and I had waited for this moment because we knew that it was inevitable. In that short space of a moment when I leaned closer to her, I could see in her eyes that she knew this without any doubt. When my lips brushed against hers, for one second, I knew what it was like to get beyond the bullshit and to get to the heart of things. That fucking bee. It would have happened. I would have kissed her gently, because after five long years, I would have wanted to be so careful with her, so cautious, in case I was wrong and she didn't want it as much as I did, and in case she wanted me to stop. But I don't think she would have wanted me to. Tears were streaming down her face and she was struggling to give me a half-smile, telling me that it was okay, that it was what she wanted too, that I wasn't out of line or out of my mind. The FBI puts two people together in a partnership and forces them to spend so much time together, and it fosters trust. It also fosters love. After five years together, if Scully and I didn't love each other, we would have surely killed each other by now. Our lips would have met, pressed together, and after a few moments of soft exploration, would have become searching, inquisitive, demanding. It's how we are when we're not kissing, and I can imagine that it would be somewhat the same if we were. "Mulder," she would have whispered as our lips separated for a breath of air. She would have said my name. She would have let me lead her down the hall, back into my apartment -- A sharp knocking on my door startles me out of my reverie. "Yeah?" "Mulder, it's me." I get up to let her in. When I open the door, her eyes flash hello. I nod in response and she steps inside. No smiles tonight. "What's going on, Scully?" "I'm sorry to come by so late," she begins, and I shrug. "You didn't bother me. Do you want to sit down?" I ask her, but she shakes her head. "No, thanks. I was wondering if we could talk." She's standing in the middle of the living room, and although her body is still her hands are moving. Her arms are slack at her sides, but she's occasionally rubbing the pads of her thumbs against her fingertips. I take it as a sign of nervousness. "Is something wrong, Scully?" She shakes her head again. "Mulder, I wanted to talk about what happened." I walk over to the couch and sit down. "I thought we already talked about this. I saw something, and you didn't see it, not when we were outside, anyhow, but you --" "That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the conversation we had before I was stung by the bee." Oh. I don't quite know how to answer that one. After a few moments of silence, I look up at her. "Are you sure you don't want to sit down?" She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Actually, I think I do." Scully sits down at the opposite end of the couch, keeping her distance from me. Oh, no. I don't want this to happen. "Scully, look, before you say anything, I just want to tell you that you don't have to worry about me jumping you or anything like that. When we got back from Antarctica, I thought that we were, I don't know, united. A true team. To see you sitting over there makes me feel that might not be the case." A look of guilt passes over her features, but is quickly replaced by slight amusement. I almost sigh aloud. She's not enigmatic for nothing. "I'm not sitting over here because I'm afraid of you, Mulder," she explains. "I'm doing it because I'm somewhat afraid of myself." Oh. Oh my. "And what are you afraid of?" I ask, slight teasing in my voice. "Look, Mulder, what happened here -- what we almost did -- it wasn't meant to be. We were both very upset, very emotional." "Hold on a second. You're telling me that you didn't want me to kiss you?" Scully is silent. "If that's what you're saying, Scully, I hate to tell you this, but you're lying." She bows her head. I'm taking a huge risk here, but I have to do it. I have to. "Scully, I know you wanted me to kiss you. I could tell. We went through so much together -- and in those few days, we were closer, stronger -- I've never thought that we could be that solid as a team, as partners." My words are getting tangled in my throat and emotion is welling up, but I'm unable to stop it. "Mulder." Her voice is low, soothing, like butter on a burn. "Scully, I don't know what the hell it is that I feel for you. I don't know how to classify it. All I know is that I can't be without you. I can't. I can't do all of this alone. And you promised me that I wouldn't have to. You said that we weren't going to quit." "I'm not going to give up on you, Mulder." Same low voice. I can hardly hear her. An emotion that I can't quite name is crashing over me and waves of it are thundering loudly in my ears, pounding like the surf. Scully moves over on the couch before I realize it and her hands are cool on my face. She's looking into my eyes, using her fingertips on my cheeks to brush away tears that I didn't know were there. She pulls my face toward hers and there is a moment of startling realization that we have been here before. Right here. And not all that long ago. Her lips are on my forehead, but this time they linger there, pressed againt my skin. When she finally draws away and looks at me, our gazes lock and hold. We are in different roles this time. I am crying, and she is close to tears, her fingers on my jaw, slowly drawing me close. I don't want anything to alter this moment, and yet I close the distance before she has a chance to, my lips descending on hers and holding there for just a second. Then I am kissing her, really kissing her, not like that stupid interrupted moment out in my hallway, and she's shifting to get closer to me, twining her hands in my hair, pressing her body against mine, and I groan. As cool as her hands were, her lips are like fire, and they sear me. I barely manage to tear my mouth from hers to kiss her face, the slope of her jawline, the corner of each eye, the sweet patch of skin behind her ear, and the curve of her neck. My hands ache to touch her. Kissing her has stirred something in me, caused me to waken from a deep emotional sleep and become aroused, firmly and persistently. "Mulder," she murmurs, and I lift my face from her neck, looking down into her eyes. Her eyes are clear and bright, her lips swollen from the kiss, and her hair is slightly tousled. She looks ruffled and yet...somehow calm. "I have to go," she says abruptly, getting up from the couch and crossing the room in a few quick steps. My mind whirls. She's leaving. "Scully," I call quickly, trying to catch up with her before she reaches the door. My hand lands on her shoulder just as her hand connects with the doorknob. "Mulder, please," she says to me, her voice catching, her back to me, "please, let me go." "Don't do this, Scully. Please don't." I'm begging her. I would get down on my hands and knees if that's what it would take. I can't let her walk out that door without looking at me, without touching me, without anything, God damn it. "I have to go, Mulder." She's crying, and we both know it. I just don't know why. Last time, she cried before I kissed her. This time, she's crying after I've kissed her. Obviously things would have to change because of this -- not necessarily for the worse, but not necessarily for the better, either. But it's something we have to talk about, not walk away from. Please, Scully, I'm praying, please turn around and talk to me. Please. My hand is still on her shoulder. Her hand is still on the doorknob. "Let me go, Mulder." I lift my hand, and she turns the doorknob, opens the door, and walks out. Without looking back. The door closes with a soft click and I am left alone in the entranceway, staring at the wood, wondering what the hell just happened. I am left alone, wishing desperately that she would come back. CONTINUED IN PART TWO _____________________ Blur (2/2) by Leyla Harrison Disclaimer and summary in part one. **** I'm breathless. I'm also crying. What the hell did I just do? I can't believe I walked out on Mulder. Again. After telling him that we were a team, that our partnership was the most important thing, that we had to be together in order for things to work, I have just walked out the door and shut it behind me. I swore that I wouldn't do that -- and yet I did. Mulder must be in full panic mode on the other side of the door. I'm standing in his hallway. This is where it all started. In this hallway, Mulder and I got closer than we ever had before. Of all the important moments we have shared in the past, they all pale in comparison to what transpired in this hallway. I allowed myself to open up to him in a way that I never had before. I spit out my insecurites -- that I had held him back, that he didn't need me -- and he shot each one of them down. I cried in front of him because of the magnitude of what he said to me. They were words that I had longed to hear for so long. It was the knowledge that it wasn't just all about him, as I sometimes feared, but that it was actually about us. He said that I made him whole. The tears weren't as frightening as I thought they would be; they were an incredible release that I needed very much. And then the moment of truth, the thing we knew would happen all along. The kiss. Although it didn't happen -- not really. His lips were millimeters from mine. Maybe they even touched -- but I wasn't focused on it because all I could feel was the stinging in the back of my neck. There's still a small hard lump there, right next to the scarring from where the chip was put back in. Ironic, isn't it? It was in this hallway that I slumped carefully with Mulder's help to the floor, to the hexagonal-shaped tiles that I am now staring down at. I stared up at the ceiling and heard Mulder run back into his apartment. I heard him talking on the phone, but I couldn't hear the words anymore. I don't remember Mulder coming back into the hall. I don't remember the paramedics getting there or taking me out of the building. When I awoke, I was dealing with a fate worse than anything I had ever imagined. But I digress. That first kiss was inevitable. Just as tonight's kiss was. And I panicked. I panicked and I walked out. Pure and simple. Even though technically, I was the one who initiated things. I swear, I don't think things could be any more complicated. Mulder and I already deal with a full plate every day, and our personal lives -- correction, our personal lives as they relate to each other just adds so much weight. I find it interesting that as hesitant as we both are to pick up that extra load, it seems that we are already carrying it. We have been for years now. For God's sake, I love him. I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt. It's not words in a childish love poem. It's not mind games and manipulation. It goes far beyond all of that. What I feel for Mulder runs so deep that it's in my veins like blood, thick and heavy and warm. I could be cut and never bleed it all out of me because there's too much of it. It would take too long to flow from my body. I've never contemplated the fact that I love him. It's never been necessary. It's just been a given. As far as if he loves me -- that is also a given. I don't doubt Mulder's love. Just his common sense at times. We love each other every time we provide the other with backup. Each time our eyes meet in Skinner's office over a discrepancy on a report. With every libidinous comment from Mulder. For all the times we've gone after the other even when no one else could -- even when no one else was willing to. That's the love between us. Of course, it's also evident in the times that we've opened our souls to each other. If I had ever doubted how Mulder felt about me before, I wouldn't have after he came after me in Antarctica. He risked everything for me. "You owe me nothing," he said to me, and yet I know I do because I have set standards for myself, for my behavior. I am the one who is standing in the hall, arms wrapped around my midsection, tears silently spilling over the bridge of my nose as I bow my head because I walked out on him. He was wrong -- I owe it to him not to leave. I owe it to him to go back. There are no bees this time to interrupt. I know what will happen if I go back. I'm not worried about repercussions about our impending relationship, although I should be. Who knows who might find that useful information. The way I see it, they already know that separating us is the worst possible scenario we could face. Separating us once we've become lovers would likely be worse. Hell, they likely already think we are lovers. Why not go ahead and give them what they want? It's what will happen to us -- between us-- that I need to contemplate. I need to get it together and focus. This isn't just about sex. Of course that's a big part of it, but there's also so much emotion between us. Ribbons of it tie us together and bind us tightly. Because of what already exists between us, Mulder and I would have to enter willingly into a relationship. And God knows neither of us has had a lot of luck in that department, not recently, anyhow. But it's not even about that. What it's about is the fact that we will have to be laid bare to each other, both physically and emotionally, and the knowledge of this is like crying -- no, sobbing -- in front of him every day for the rest of my life. I rub my eyes wearily with my fingertips and sniffle. I have to go home. I have to think about this more clearly. Coming over here this soon was a mistake. I should have waited. I never should have -- "Scully?" My head jerks up. Mulder has opened the door and has stepped hesitantly into the hallway. God. I didn't want him to see me like this. His face is all hopefulness and expectant optimism and it tears at my heart. I have no idea what I look like but I can guess that my eyes are puffy and red and rimmed with dark black raccoon circles of mascara. I know my voice will be hoarse from having cried, and I don't trust it yet. I lower my head slightly again. Neither of us speak for long minutes. My feet are beginning to ache from standing, and staring at the little white tiles outlined in black for so long is only causing the lines to blur. "I'm sorry, Mulder," I finally murmur softly. The hallway is dead silent and I know that as soft as my voice is, he can hear me. Mulder has always been able to hear every word I've spoken -- even the ones that have been silent. Soft footfalls echo on the floor as Mulder walks over to face me. I raise my head and look at him -- to really look at him. My face feels tired and haggard. Mulder has seen me at my worst both physically and emotionally. What he sees shouldn't shock him. But for me it is a hard step to take, to face him like this. And yet I do it willingly. Because I trust him. That trust hangs heavy in the air between us as we regard each other in silence. I can feel it draped over my shoulders and across my neck, and it soothes me enough to untwine my arms from around my body and let them fall from a defensive and protective position to my sides where they belong. "Scully." Mulder's voice in the tranquility startles me and my hands reach out for something to brace against. My palms touch the cool wood surface of the wall against my back as I realize the symbolism of the moment. I am where we always are -- backed up against a wall. Except this time I am here alone. This time I have brought myself here and put myself here alone. I can stop this, and go with him, or I can continue to brace myself against the dark wood paneling and make this more difficult. I sigh heavily. I know that I want to tell him that I should leave and go home but words are not forthcoming. So far we have managed to say about four words between the two of us. We've always had trouble saying what we felt. Locked gazes have always completed the sentences we couldn't finish and meaningful glances have always helped us tell each other everything there was to say. That night in the hallway, Mulder ran out of words. And we finished the conversation by not just looking at each other but into each other. Tonight in the hallway, we've both run out of words. Or maybe it's just that we're just too tired to choose the right ones. Either way, Mulder takes my hand gently from the wall and closes his fingers around it, warm and secure. He tugs and I realize that he is leading me back to his apartment, no permission asked. It is not a question. It is a statement that he makes physically. Come with me, Scully. He knows I gave my permission when I didn't leave. He knows me so well. I let him lead me down the hall and into the apartment, vaguely hearing the door close behind us both. And then I am sitting on the couch again, where I was minutes before. Mulder is next to me and it is as if we haven't left our places on the stage. I can still recall how his lips felt as they caressed me -- and not just my mouth. Mulder was ruthless in his kiss; my neck, my ear, my throat and my eyes were under assault and I felt my body respond instantly with a rush of wetness between my legs that has not gone away. And so now we have returned to this point. I am not sure what Mulder wants from me. A continuation of what was happening here minutes before? A conversation about how much we need each other? I don't know if I have the stamina for either one. "What is it that you need, Mulder?" I ask wearily. There is a long pause before I hear his barely audible reply. "You. It's always been you." His answer awakens something in my lower belly, something old and warm. I know where this is leading. I would have to be a fool not to know where this was going. I close my eyes and wait. I cannot go to him. I cannot move. I can barely breathe. Why is this so hard? Why? I feel the couch dip and Mulder moves closer to me. I feel the warmth of his arms as he pulls me into an embrace that I easily relax into. I feel a strange combination of apprehension and utter peace. With my eyes still closed, I feel the heat of Mulder's breath on my forehead as his lips brush against my skin, his even heartbeat thumping against my chest. I want to stay like this forever and yet I feel the uncontrollable urge to get up and run. Because of my voluntary sight impairment I cannot anticipate every move that Mulder makes, not right away, anyhow, and so I know he is going to kiss me only a moment before he actually does. There is no gentleness in this kiss, not even from the outset. His mouth slants againt mine, bruising my lips with his, pressing his tongue into my mouth. He pushes, forcing, but his hands and body move on the couch, moving so that he is on his back and I am above him. I open my eyes and am surprised to find that he has put me in charge, in control. My legs are splayed out on either side of his hips. And I realize with a start that I am kissing him, that I am the one who is devouring his mouth, that I am running my hands over his chest, pushing up his t-shirt to touch the skin and not the cloth, that I am the one grinding my hips into his, that I am the one gripping his wrists tightly and pressing them into the couch when he tries to reach for me. I have become a creature unleashed. I can feel him thrusting up against me. It is intimate and so unlike what I am used to. Mulder and I do not move this way. We do not thrust and groan. Mulder does not get hard and I do not get wet. It is simply something we do not do. I am unprepared for how it feels and how it makes my body react. I feel his hands under my shirt, stroking my back, and lightly raking his fingernails up and down in the small dip of my lower back, and I arch up frantically. "Scully." His voice is sharp enough to cut glass and I stare at him, breathing heavily. "What are we doing?" I ask, breathless. He looks up and me and our eyes lock. His stronger hands reach for my weaker ones and still them momentarily. "Christ," Mulder murmurs under his breath. He finally releases my hands and uses one of his own to cover his eyes. Oh, God, I think to myself. He didn't want to do this. Did he? I bite my lip, hard enough to draw blood. It tastes warm and metallic on my tongue and I swallow. "This was a mistake," I murmur. Mulder opens his eyes and shakes his head. "Not a mistake, Scully. Never a mistake. All I'm saying is that we might have taken it a little too fast. That's all. We've got time, you know." His mouth curves into a small smile, a hopeful smile, and I stare at him, dumbfounded for a moment. Then I smile back at him, shaky. It is the first smile I have given him in what feels like months, years. Mulder and I are not usually afforded the luxury of smiling. Since I haven't really had a sex life in five years I guess I forgot that you don't just have to jump into bed with someone after the first kiss. There's time for foreplay. Although Mulder and I have done five years of mental and emotional foreplay and it seems like we've been chomping at the bit to get into bed and just make love already, damn it. I sit up and deliberately rub against his crotch. I can feel how hard he is. He moans, a low sound that I have never heard before. I like it. I smile, genuine and casual. I am going to enjoy getting to know Mulder in this way. I can tell already. I can do this. "Just don't leave me, Scully," Mulder whispers suddenly, and my eyes fill with sudden stinging tears. Time for the truth. No lies. I lean down, tears I didn't realize were there rolling down my cheeks. I bring my face close to his, feeling one tear roll its way down to the end of my jaw and falling off. I kiss Mulder's lips gently, tasting the salt on my tongue. "I'm not going to leave you, Mulder," I tell him softly, lifting my mouth from his. "I swear it." His arms go around me and pull me close, and I curl up on top of his body, putting my head down on his chest. My legs fall comfortably in between his and he holds me like that, so that we feel like one. Behind closed lids, I can see Mulder and I, together in every way, in perfect focus. END .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:. http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Vault/1377 "I had you big time." -- Dana Scully, The X-Files .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.