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Part 4
******

Mulder strode down Scully's hallway, his fists clenched, cursing him-
self under his breath. He had to get out, he could not bear to see 
her face again, not after all he had done to her.  When she had sank
to her knees with him, he had been so overjoyed, believing she had 
forgiven him totally, he had not been able to resist trailing his 
lips over the softness of her cheek. But she had squirmed. He did not
know if she had suffered a flashback, or if she could no longer stand
his touch. He could not, would not, risk inflicting more emotional 
pain on her. No matter how much his heart was breaking.

"Mulder, wait!"

Scully's voice, calling him. He stopped, turning uncertainly, to see 
her walking towards him, her hand outstretched. To push him away?  
Or to stop him from leaving?  He hoped, with everything within him, 
that it was to stop him from leaving. He ducked his head down, hiding
the emotion he knew was plain on his face.

He saw her feet as she stopped beside him, the outstretched hand 
reaching out to grasp one of his, her fingers cool. She squeezed it,
until he looked up, to see her chin lifting so that she could stare 
into his eyes. "Mulder, I wasn't scared when you touched me."  Her 
cheeks flushed, and she broke the stare, looking over his shoulder to
stare at the wall.  Mulder had to lean forward to catch her next 
words because her voice was so low. "It felt good, Mulder. I was 
shivering because I enjoyed your touch."

Mulder knew his mouth was gaping open. He stared at her, unblinking,
waiting for the other shoe to drop. She met his eyes again, and a 
small smile crossed her lips. It took a minute for it all to sink in,
but when it did, he smiled back, his eyes full of hope. Her words 
bridged the chasm in his soul. "Scully," he said. He stepped forward
just as she did, and then his arms were around her, and they were 
holding each other tight.

"It will take time, Mulder," she said into his chest. "But we will 
make it."

He buried his face in her hair, nodding his head. "I know we will, 
Scully."

Long, quiet moments, in each other's arms. At peace.

Her whispered voice came again. "Mulder, I have to tell you this."  
She paused and then continued, "Last night, Mulder...last night, I 
wasn't... afraid at first. When you held me against you, and I felt 
your arousal... I was aroused too. It was exciting, Mulder, to know 
I could do that to you. "  He heard her swallow, and she rubbed her 
face into his chest in her embarrassment. "And when you kissed me, I
nearly lost the ability to think."

Pleasure warred with guilt. To hear Scully saying that she had been 
aroused, what his kiss did to her, was an amazing thing. It was a 
balm for his heart. His arms tightened briefly in reaction, and he 
felt hers stroking up and down his back in long, soothing gestures.

Mulder felt he could have stood there forever, holding her, but they 
still had to talk. He eased back reluctantly, his hands moving to her
shoulders, and smiled gently at her. One hand left her shoulder to 
tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she briefly snuggled her 
cheek into his hand. "Go get changed, Scully," he said softly. "I'll
make some coffee, see if I can put together some lunch."

Scully scrunched her face up in a totally adorable way, shaking her
head quickly. "Stick to the coffee, Mulder. I'll make us some lunch 
after I change."

Mulder stood there and watched Scully walk back to her bedroom. He 
could see her shoulders were straight, her head high. Gone was the 
slouching, frightened woman of earlier. He smiled faintly to himself,
immensely cheered, his whole spirit lightened.

And he also could not help but admire the graceful sway of her hips, 
and the way the terry cloth of her robe molded to her rear end. Or 
think of putting his hands on that same flesh without the robe...

With a flash of guilt he shook his head at the direction his thoughts
had taken, and turned and headed to Scully's kitchen. He moved about
comfortably, getting the promised coffee ready, retrieving her favor-
ite blend from the freezer, and starting it up. He leaned against the
counter to wait, staring unseeing across the room.

In between self-recrimination and more feelings of guilt, tremendous 
guilt, he had been re-playing the incident at the elevator over and 
over for the last few hours. It ran through yet again and his mind 
made one of its sudden, intuitive leaps. He spat out, "Krycek!" just
as Scully walked into the kitchen.

Scully was no slouch in that department. She understood immediately 
his memory had prompted his outburst. The merest quirk of her eye-
brow was her only reaction, followed by a muttered, "Bastard." She 
stopped and stood in the center of the kitchen, her hands on her 
hips. Her lips pursed for a moment before she exclaimed,  "Jesus, 
Mulder. Why?" Her tone was indignant, her cheeks flushing with anger.
"Why would he hurt you, hurt us this way?"

Mulder shook his head, straightening from his slouch to get down cups
for the coffee. He needed to keep his hands busy. As disturbed and 
angry as he was by the knowledge that Krycek had been behind this ob-
scene plot, he was also finding the sight of Scully in all her furi-
ous glory rather...exciting. He wondered if there was something wrong
with himself. He should be more concerned about what he had remem-
bered. He *was* concerned, but somehow the news Scully had related 
moments ago was much more important, more life impacting, and also 
incredibly arousing.  He couldn't seem to stop thinking about Scully,
in a sexual way.  He knew though, that she did not need to hear that,
not now. He cleared his throat, focusing his attention on the subject
at hand. Krycek.

"Scully, I can only guess that Krycek, and whomever he was working 
for, if he was working for someone, wanted to separate us. That he 
believed my actions would cause you to leave. To what purpose, I have
no idea." His voice was contemplative. "He, or they, never realized 
I would never let that happen."  Scully shot him a look, and he 
quickly added, "*We* would never let that happen."  He paused, still 
not looking at her. "Scully, you have to know I would never willingly
hurt you. I would sooner eat my gun than cause you pain."

He heard her sharp inhalation, and it was several seconds before she 
replied. Her voice was odd, it sounded tight, as if she were fighting
tears. "Mulder, God, I know that. This was not your fault. You had no
control over what was done to you. To us."  She sniffled a little 
bit. "I will heal physically, Mulder. And together, we will heal 
emotionally."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Scully heave out a deep breath 
before she went to the fridge and pulled it open. She joined him at 
the counter and began to make sandwiches. They worked in silence 
until their lunch had been prepared. They each carried a plate and a 
mug of coffee and went into the living room to sit on the couch to 
eat.

***

Scully quickly slipped into a pair of jeans and a sweater. She hesi-
tated briefly as she pulled the sweater on, thinking about her 
bruises. Mulder had already seen them, she had practically bared her 
soul to him, and it would be silly to hide them now. She glanced in 
her dresser mirror and then flicked her hands through her hair before
heading to the kitchen.

Her steps were light and a faint grumble came from her stomach. She 
realized she was actually hungry. As she neared the kitchen, the tan-
talizing aroma of freshly brewing coffee intensified the feeling.

She walked in to see Mulder slouching against the counter. His gaze 
was blank as he stared across the room, and suddenly he said, 
"Krycek!"

Her mind processed the name and immediately flashed back to the man 
at Mulder's elevator. Although the news was disturbing, somehow it 
did not surprise her at all. Krycek's loyalties and motives had al-
ways been a mystery, one they had never been able to solve. She 
quirked an eyebrow slightly at Mulder and said, "Bastard."  There was
no heat in her voice, it was merely a statement of fact.

The anger flared however as she thought further, as she pictured him 
bumping into Mulder, deliberately injecting him with a combination of
drugs he had known or hoped would result in something terrible. Her 
cheeks flushed as she stood there with her hands on her hips. "Jesus,
Mulder, why? Why would he hurt you, hurt us this way?" she exclaimed,
her voice rising slightly with her indignation.

She stared as Mulder rose from his position against the counter and 
turned to get some mugs down from one of the cupboards. She listened 
to his theory about Krycek, his voice low and controlled, contempla-
tive, about trying to separate them. He said he would never let that 
happen, and at his use of the word 'I', she shot him a look. He 
quickly amended it to 'we'. His next words sent shock resounding 
through her system. The thought of Mulder dead, by his own hands, was
almost more than she could bear. She fought back tears, her voice 
sounding thick to her ears as she replied. She had to reassure him 
that she knew it was not his fault, and as she spoke the words, "we 
will heal emotionally," she knew that it was true. They gave each 
other strength, and together they would help each other through it.

Scully took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to calm herself before 
joining Mulder at the counter to make them some sandwiches. Mulder 
poured them both a steaming cup of coffee, fixing hers exactly how 
she liked it, and she arranged the sandwiches on two plates.

They each carried a plate and a mug and went into the living room to 
eat. Scully sat on the sofa, Mulder plopping down beside her, their 
thighs not quite touching.

The coffee was perfect. She closed her eyes briefly as the caffeine 
first hit her system, smiling faintly. Beside her, Mulder dug into 
the first of his sandwiches with enthusiasm. He turned his head to 
her, swallowing heavily. "I'm going to talk to the Gunmen about 
Krycek, have them start a search. I know we've gone this route 
before, but maybe they can turn something up."

Scully nodded, her own mouth full. The Gunmen were often able to find
information that she and Mulder, with their Bureau resources, could 
not. Maybe they would get lucky and actually find the rat bastard. It
was possible he had remained nearby, to witness the results of his...
experiment, for lack of a better word. The thought twisted her stom-
ach, and she put her half-eaten sandwich back on her plate, her ap-
petite suddenly diminished. "Mulder, do you think he's watching us?"

She looked as Mulder eyed his second sandwich, which was nearly gone,
and then returned the remainder to his own plate. He scrubbed one 
hand over his mouth before replying, "It's a good possibility, 
Scully. But we've been watched before. Hell, we're probably always 
watched. We just can't let it get to us. Easier said then done, I 
know, but we really have no choice."  His mouth quirked sideways as 
he looked at her, his shoulders rising in a semi-shrug.

He was right. There *was* nothing they could do, and worrying about 
it would only make it worse. She sighed, and then took another mouth-
ful of coffee. She held the mug cradled in her hands, and said, 
"You're right, Mulder, but it just makes me so angry. And scared."

"I know, Scully. It scares me too," Mulder said. He picked up his 
coffee and took a swallow before continuing. "I think we should tell 
Skinner, too."  He looked back at her, and she could hear the shame 
and sorrow in his next words. "Not *everything*, but enough, so that 
he is aware of what happened, and that Krycek may be in the area."

Scully nodded slowly, trying to imagine Skinner's reaction when they 
related their watered down version of the events of the previous 
evening. The AD was an intelligent man, he would know they had not 
told him everything. She knew he was also an honorable man and would 
not press for further details, trusting them to relate those that 
were pertinent.

She stood and picked up her plate and mug, and headed to the kitchen.
She could hear Mulder behind her, following suit. She put the dishes 
in the sink, taking his from him as well, not meeting his eyes. She 
fiddled with the dishes, feeling nervous and awkward and tired all of
a sudden. There was not much else they could say on the subject of 
Krycek, nor did she really want to discuss the heinous bastard, and 
although she knew they were not finished talking about what had hap-
pened, she just wanted to put it out of her mind for a while.

Mulder thankfully seemed to read her like a book. "Hey, Scully, you 
going to be okay?  I'm going to go see the Gunmen, get them looking 
for Krycek. You look really tired, why don't you lie down?"  He 
shifted on his feet and then continued more softly, "Do you want me 
to check on you later?"

Scully turned to face him finally, a small smile on her face. His 
concern plucked at that string on her heart. "I'll be fine, Mulder."

His eyes smiled at her and he lifted one hand slowly to tuck that 
same strand of hair behind her ear again. "I really don't want to 
leave," he said.  "But I know you need some time to yourself."  He 
stopped and stared at her, leaning slightly towards her but coming no
further, and she knew he wanted to kiss her, but was afraid to take 
that last step.

So she took it for him.

She stepped closer to him, scant inches separating their bodies, and 
lifted her chin, angling her head to the side. He smiled again and 
lowered his head to hers. His lips grazed hers gently before sliding 
to press firmly against her cheek.  They both stepped back at the 
same time, and Scully could feel the silly grin on her face, a grin 
that mirrored the one on his. 

Mulder turned and left the kitchen, and she followed behind him. He 
opened the door and stepped out, and Scully rested her hand on the 
doorknob. "Mulder, call me tonight, okay?"  she said, and he grinned 
more widely, nodding.

She watched until he got on the elevator, and then slowly closed and 
locked her door.



Six Weeks Later

Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, D.C.



Scully glanced at the clock on the stove as she stirred the spaghetti
sauce once again. The sauce was bubbling nicely, and its aroma filled
the kitchen and teased her taste buds.  The thick, crusty bread was 
waiting in its paper wrapper on the breadboard to be cut, and the 
package of pasta sat on the counter beside the empty pot on the 
other burner.  She had already set the table, and she gave it a crit-
ical once over for the third time. She wondered if the candle in the 
center was too much, but liked the squat, three-wick pillar too much 
to move it.

Mulder would be here in just under an hour, and she still wanted to 
have a quick shower before she had to get dressed. She turned the 
burner down a little and put the lid on the pot of sauce before 
wiping her hands on the tea towel resting on her shoulder. She folded
the towel neatly and placed it on the counter, and then headed to her
bedroom to get undressed.

The drugstore bag was the first thing she saw when she entered the 
room. It still sat on her bed where she had dropped it when she got 
home from her shopping. She walked over and emptied its contents onto
her comforter. The toiletries needed to go into her bathroom cabinet 
and the last item, she picked up and stared at for a moment. She 
blushed lightly and with a loud exhalation, tucked it into her night 
table.

She stripped out of her clothes and slipped into her silk robe, luxu-
riating in the feel of the cool material sliding over her body. She 
tied the sash and then scooped the clothes off the floor and walked 
over to the hamper. She dumped them inside before retrieving the 
items from her bed and moving into the bathroom. She put everything 
away and as she turned the taps on to start her shower, she thought 
longingly of a long, hot, bubble bath, but knew she did not have 
time. The steam rapidly filled the room as she stepped inside.

She sighed with contentment as the hot water pounded down on her head
and back, and she rolled her head from side to side to let the water 
work at her neck. She found the shower also helped to calm her 
nerves. She could not believe how nervous she was about Mulder coming
to dinner. It probably had something to do with the plans she had for
after the dinner, but she was actually nervous about everything. She 
had debated for two days about what to cook, and had spent almost 
half an hour earlier that morning picking her outfit. She shook her 
head as she reached for the bottle of shampoo; she was acting like a 
teenager going on her first date.

It was silly, really, she mused to herself, working the lather into 
her hair. Mulder had eaten dinner here many times, just as she had 
eaten at his place. Take-out to be sure, but she *had* eaten there 
more times than she could count. They had also often spent some of 
their off time together, before 'that night', and even more so in the
last six weeks. She hated the fact that she still thought of the 
night Mulder had raped her in such distinct terms, but knew it would 
take time for her to let it go. She had been seeing a therapist for a
few weeks now, and was finding it easier to talk about the rape with-
out freezing up or crying. She smiled to herself, her face directly 
in the water flow, pleased that she had used the word rape with no 
difficulty, even if it was in her own mind. The frequency of her 
nightmares and flashbacks was also lessening, for which she was very 
grateful. They had been difficult to hide from Mulder, and they 
pained him as much as they did her.

Mulder. She smiled again as she thought of him, lathering soap over 
her body. Their relationship had taken a different turn after the 
rape; another smile, that's twice she had said it. They had become 
much more open with each other since spending so much time together.
They had also gotten physically closer as well. Mulder now seemed to 
find excuses to touch her all the time. Holding her elbow as they 
walked, fingers glancing over hers as he reached for something. His 
favorite thing lately though was touching her hair. He would tuck an 
errant strand behind her ear even before she would think to do it 
herself, or merely stroke his hand through its thickness when they 
said goodnight, and sometimes when he was close, he would nuzzle his 
nose into it and inhale deeply with a pleased hum.

The best thing was that she was not uncomfortable with any of it, in 
fact, had come to depend on their closeness and contact.

It was another reason why she had decided that tonight was the night 
she would take the next step. She had talked with her therapist at 
great length about her needs and wants, and whether she was ready to 
further their relationship, to the point where it would be difficult 
to turn back. She was. They were.

She also believed that being physically intimate with Mulder, sharing
her love fully and completely, would further erase the emotional and 
mental scars of the rape for both of them.

She rinsed her hair and body one last time before turning the water 
off. After squeezing the excess moisture from her hair, she reached 
for the big, fluffy towel on the rack and wrapped it around her body 
before stepping out onto the bath mat. She went through her usual 
routine, taking special care to smooth body lotion over her skin, and
then slipped back into her robe. She scrubbed a hand towel over the 
mirror to clear away the steam, and then picking up her brush, ran it
through the wet strands of her hair.

Padding barefoot to her bedroom, she went to her lingerie drawer and 
began to study its contents. She had always had a secret passion for 
silks and satins, and loved the feel of them under her FBI attire. 
She picked out a matching set in dark blue silk and carried them over
to the bed. Shedding her robe, she slipped the panties on, and was 
just about to put on the bra when an impulse, and she could only 
label it a naughty one, had her deciding to forego the bra complete-
ly. Why, Agent Scully, you hussy, she thought and flushed a little. 
It *was* naughty, and sexy as well, and she hoped it knocked Mulder's
socks off.

With that, she moved over to her closet, to where the outfit she had 
finally decided on was hanging on a hook. She pulled the ice blue 
silk blouse off its hanger and putting it on, deftly did up the but-
tons. The material was cool, and she felt her nipples pucker in reac-
tion as it slid across them. She almost changed her mind and started 
to unbutton the blouse to put the bra on after all, but a vision of 
Mulder unbuttoning the blouse himself and finding her naked beneath 
had her smoothing the silk down and reaching for the silk lounging 
pants hanging there and pulling them on.

She headed back to the bathroom and after blow-drying her hair, ex-
pertly and lightly applied her make-up. A touch of perfume on the 
pulse at her throat and on her wrists and she was ready. She needed 
to check on the sauce and get the water for the pasta started, Mulder
would be arriving soon.

Moments after she filled the second pot with water and added a touch 
of oil and put it on the burner, she heard a knock at her door. 
Mulder's knock. She inhaled deeply and walked to the door, pausing 
briefly before she opened it to smooth the invisible wrinkles out of 
her blouse. She went up on tiptoe and peeked through the spy hole, 
seeing Mulder standing there, staring with a quirky smile at the 
closed door.

Scully unlocked and opened the door, her smile shy as she looked at 
Mulder. He was dressed casually, as she had instructed yesterday with
her invitation, in faded jeans, a button-down plaid shirt and his 
black leather jacket. The smell of his cologne, mixed with leather 
and Mulder himself had her nostrils flaring briefly in reaction, and 
sent a surge of awareness through her body. Awareness of the healthy,
virile male standing next to her.

Mulder was suddenly thrusting a bouquet of flowers in her direction, 
he must have kept them hidden behind his back. She had been so busy 
staring at him, she hadn't even noticed.  She gawked at them, a mix-
ture of carnations and baby roses, and reached out hesitantly to take
them from his hand with a shyly whispered, "Thank-you, Mulder."  They
were so romantic, so sweet, and so totally unexpected from Mulder, 
she almost melted right where she stood. She regained her composure 
after watching Mulder's eyes skim up and down her body before drop-
ping to her chest and widen with interest and desire.

"I need to put these in water," she said. "Make yourself comfort-
able."  She turned and headed towards the kitchen, fully aware of 
Mulder's hot gaze on her retreating backside.

Her purely feminine smile was hidden as she walked away.

***

Mulder strode down the hallway of Scully's apartment building, a bou-
quet of flowers clenched tightly in one hand. He didn't know what had
come over him. He had been driving through the city, and stopped at a
red light. There had been a flower shop on the corner just after the 
light, and he had stared at the display window, thinking, until loud 
honking had pulled him out of his trance to see the light was now 
green. He had waved at the impatient driver behind him and pulled 
forward, moving to the curb, leaving his four way flashers on to run 
inside and buy Scully some flowers.

He had almost thrown them out the car window twice.

Would she like them?  Would she think he was a fool for bringing her 
flowers?  He felt like a teenager trying to impress his date. He 
hoped like hell Scully would be impressed. Flattered even. Maybe she 
would even kiss him. Oh, jeez, he was sounding pathetic. He knew he 
should have just tossed them.

It was too late. He was at her doorway. He knocked, and remembered to
hide the bouquet behind his back. He stared at the spy hole, waiting 
for Scully to open the door. He sensed her there on the other side, 
looking at him, and smiled nervously.

The door opened then, and he stepped inside, seeing Scully smile at 
him. He didn't know what to do first, so he thrust the flowers at 
her. Her eyes widened at the bouquet, and then they went soft, and he
knew that she was pleased. Her reaction lightened his heart. Her hand
came out to take them from him, and she whispered, "Thank-you, 
Mulder."  He saw then that she was dressed far differently then he 
had ever seen her, in an ice-blue silk blouse that complimented her 
eyes and silky pants that reminded him of pajama bottoms.

His observant eyes noticed something else. Scully wasn't wearing a 
bra.

Breathe, he told himself. Inhale, exhale. That one glimpse of her 
nipples poking at the material of her blouse nearly did him in. She 
turned and walked towards the kitchen, and he stared at her ass as 
she retreated, his jeans now uncomfortably tight. He knew she had 
said something to him, but her words barely registered. Water?  Com-
fortable?  It took a minute, but he finally realized he was just 
standing there in front of the door. He moved into the room and slid 
off his jacket, laying it over the back of the couch. He was not 
quite able to sit yet so he meandered around her living room, taking 
deep, even breaths.

From the kitchen came the sounds of running water, and cupboards 
banging, followed by the pop of a cork. Scully came out not long af-
ter, carrying a glass of what looked like wine, which she brought 
over to him. She held it out to him, and he saw that her hand shook 
slightly. Was Scully as nervous as he?  She had looked so self-
assured, so relaxed, and so damn...sexy, when she opened the door, he
could not imagine that she would feel as he did. Somehow it made him 
feel just a little bit better. And a little bit cocky.

He took the wine glass with a smile, making sure to meet and hold her
eyes, drawling, "Thank-you, Scully."  Her cheeks flushed a little, 
and his smile widened. She *was* nervous. He held her gaze a little 
bit longer, watching her blush deepen, before finally turning his 
head to the side to take a sip of the wine, watching her from the 
corner of his eye.

"Uh...I need to check on the sauce," Scully said, her voice slightly
higher than normal. She stood there for a few more seconds, staring 
at him as he took another swallow of wine, before blinking slowly and
finally heading back to the kitchen.

Mulder smiled again. Scully was flustered. And unless he missed his 
guess, a little bit aroused too. It certainly wasn't *that* cold in 
the apartment.  The thought sent a dart of arousal through his body. 
Down, boy, he told himself. He put the wineglass down on the coffee 
table and went over to the armoire that housed her stereo system. He 
opened the wooden doors and turned the stereo on. The CD light was 
on, so he pressed play, curious to hear what she had been listening 
to.

The song began, the drum beat slow and easy. He didn't recognize it 
at first, and reached for the CD case resting on top of the stereo. 
Savage Garden. He found himself swaying slightly to the music, and 
closed his eyes to listen better.

"I will be strong I will be faithful
'cause I'm counting on

A new beginning
A reason for living
A deeper meaning..."

The words reached deep inside. His heart began to thud. He did not 
know if Scully had been playing it deliberately, or if it was just a 
coincidence, but the words spoke so truly about their situation. 
Could making love with each other erase the horrible memories of the 
rape?  He hoped so.

He and Scully had gotten so much closer in the last month or so, 
spending much of their personal time together. He had made the first 
move a few weeks ago, kissing her good night after they had seen a 
movie. At first, she had been hesitant, shy.  He had kept their 
kisses light, unthreatening. He was careful to follow her lead, to 
watch for any sign that she was scared or uncomfortable. Gradually 
they had progressed to more body contact, light caresses. They had 
recently participated in some very heavy make-out sessions on both 
their couches.

Was she ready to take the next step?  Was he?

Yes.

His palms felt sweaty, and he was suddenly very warm. He turned the 
volume on the stereo up a little and went over to the coffee table to
pick up his wine. He took a large mouthful, feeling the wine cool and
tart on his tongue, and then with a deep breath, went into the kitch-
en. 

***