*~*~*~*~*~*
Connected
by Lovesfox
*~*~*~*~*~*
lovesfox@rogers.com

Headers in Part 1

***
Part 7 of 12

Unknown Location
Unknown Time


The dull clang of the metal door closing made Scully flinch, 
which sent further discomfort through her body.  Every muscle
ached, like she had severely over-exerted herself, and her 
lungs were working double-time.  It was a struggle to shake 
off the effects of the stun gun, and she had to fight the urge 
to just lay down on the cold floor and fade into temporary 
oblivion.

But she had to confirm that Mulder was all right first.  She
had heard him groan, and knew he had been thrown into the
room with her.  Thankfully -- she had been afraid that they 
would be separated.

Managing to twist her lower half, she sat down heavily and 
lifted her head, trying to breathe evenly and deeply.  Mulder 
was lying prone on the floor, a mere foot away, legs and arms 
akimbo.  His head was turned to one side, facing away from her, 
and he was breathing rapidly, each exhalation rough and loud.

Before she could call to him, he slowly rose to his hands and 
knees, and then with a jerky motion, flipped himself over to 
sit on the floor, mirroring her pose.  One shaky hand lifted 
and scrubbed over his face as he heaved out a groaning sigh.  
"Are you all right, Scully?" he asked, meeting her eyes at 
last.

The weariness in his voice was echoed in the lines of stress
on his forehead, bracketing his mouth.  She knew it was also
echoed on her features.  "I'm okay," she answered simply.
There was no need to elaborate -- he had been hit by the stun
gun as well.

"Yeah," was his agreeing reply.  He sighed again, and then
remarked, "It looks like we're up shit's creek, Scully."

Aptly, if crudely, put.  She nodded, and despite the fact
he was as in the dark as she, asked, "Who the hell are these
people, Mulder?"

"Well, you know me, Scully," Mulder replied self-deprecatingly,
his lips twisting briefly in a semblance of a mocking smile.  
"I'm guessing they are part of some Shadow Government agency 
that has been experimenting with mind-control and telepathy."

His tone told her his statement was only half-jesting.  But 
she had to admit the possibility seemed quite likely.  Fear 
and anger and exhaustion getting the better of her, she quipped,
somewhat sardonically, "Conspiracies-R-Us?"  Mulder did not
respond, and she sighed heavily.  To soften that comment, she 
said, "I think you may be right, Mulder."

"If I had the energy, Scully, I'd be marking this moment,"
he returned with little zest.  His slow movement to look 
around the room was evidence of his discomfort and tiredness, 
mirroring her own.  "As it is," he said next, "I think we 
should try and check out our accommodations."  With that, he 
rose carefully to his feet, wavering just slightly.

Scully nodded and followed suit, willing the trembling in her 
legs to subside, and turned in a slow circle.  Her eyes had 
adjusted to the dimness of the roughly 12x14 room, but there 
was very little to see.

Four bare walls, bare floor, and a cot.  One cot.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mulder raise one hand
to his face and rub his chin as he regarded what was apparently
their bed for the duration of their stay.  He was either
deliberately blocking his thoughts, or his mind was as 
scrambled as hers felt, for she read nothing from him.  Not 
even a single flirtatious or sarcastic comment.

"Well," she started, and then fell silent again.  What could 
she say?

"Well," Mulder parroted her.  His gaze flicked to her and back
to the cot, and then his shoulders lifted in a shrug.  "Flip 
you for the good side!" he called with mock-cheer.

She couldn't help snickering, gesturing at the single-sized
cot which was shoved up against one wall.  "There is no good 
side, Mulder," she pointed out.

"Scully, you see the glass as half-empty, don't you?"  He shot
her a grin as he neared the cot, nudging it with one leg.  The
metal frame groaned in protest, but held steady.  "Come on, you 
take the inside."

Eying him askance, Scully wondered if his offer was one of
chivalry, or out of his need to protect her -- a trait that was
sometimes charmingly endearing, but more often misplaced.  He 
said her name again, eyebrow crooked questioningly, and she
finally responded.  "Are you being a manly man again, Mulder?
Protecting the little woman?"

<> 

"Mulder!" she admonished out loud, not really angry.  Amused 
and just slightly titillated, maybe.  "Watch your thoughts,"
she continued.  Right after the words left her mouth, she got 
this strange feeling that they both should be very careful with 
what they said.  She realized chances were good that they were 
under audio and video surveillance, and had been since they
had arrived.

The look on Mulder's face, and his cautious eye scan of the
ceiling told her he felt the same way.  His next thought was 
a warning, with a hint of teasing.

<>

She nodded her understanding, and approached the cot with a
hint of trepidation.  They'd crashed in motel beds together 
on a few occasions, she had dozed off on his shoulder on 
countless flights and stakeouts, they'd slept on each other's 
couches.  But they had never had to share such a confined 
sleeping space before.  It would be very...intimate.

"Scully?" he queried softly.  The way he said it was full of 
understanding.  She looked at him and he started, "I can
sleep--"

Mulder was offering to sleep on the floor, Scully knew, and 
was touched, deeply.  Not to mention a little ashamed of her 
hesitation.  Her swift head shake halted the rest of his 
sentence, and he jerked his own head in a brief nod of 
acquiescence.

She turned back to the cot and was about to climb on it when 
it came to her that logically and logistically, it was better
both space and comfort-wise for Mulder to be on the inside, 
facing forward, with her spooned into him.  This position
would also give them two pairs of eyes to look outward and
watch the door.

"Mulder," she said low-voiced, and proceeded to outline her 
idea about their sleeping arrangements.

A few minutes later, they were lying on the thin, lumpy
mattress, with Mulder's back against the wall, and her back 
to his chest.  Their knees were bent, his legs snugly aligned 
along hers, and his outer arm lay chastely over her waist.
Her head was pillowed on her bent right arm, while her left 
hand was curled under her chin.

Scully could feel the tension in Mulder's body, and recognized 
that he was 'on guard'.  A very good cautionary idea, with the 
unknown variables of their kidnapping.  "Mulder," she whispered.  
"We'll share watch, okay?"

"Get some sleep, Scully," was his reply, the exhalation with
each word ruffling the hair by her ear.  "I've got your back."

Her lips twitched -- he certainly did have her back.  Sighing, 
she closed her eyes and wiggled to get more comfortable.  
Unintentionally pushing her rear end into him.

Mulder grunted softly and shifted, the arm on her flexing and
moving back, his fingers pressing into her stomach for a brief 
moment.  He then murmured, "Easy there, Scully."

"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed, feeling the heat blossom
in her cheeks.  Her skin tingled where his hand had touched 
her, even with the barrier of the blouse she wore.

"S'okay," he whispered.  "Relax."  His arm moved back over
her waist, and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.  He
seemed to be taking his own advice, his body no longer tense.  
"Go to sleep," he repeated his earlier instruction.  "I'll
wake you in a couple hours."

Letting her eyes slip closed again, she listened to the sound 
of his breathing, deep and even.  Matched the rhythm with her
own breaths, eventually dozing off.  Which was why she did not 
react some time later when he shifted against her, his groin 
pushing into her rear.

<>

Even on the hazy edge of full sleep, Mulder's thought registered, 
and her eyes popped open once more, a new wave of heat washing 
her cheeks -- this time of both embarrassment and pleasure at the
content.  More alert now, she couldn't help wondering if he had 
sent the thought to her deliberately, or if it had been a stray 
one in reaction to the contact between their bodies.  Mulder did
not move again, nor did he say or think another word, and she 
told herself to let it go, to get some much needed sleep.

She also tried not to think about the fact that it did indeed 
feel nice.

***

Mulder jolted out of the light doze he had not intended to fall 
into, his eyes snapping open in surprise and guilt.  He held 
himself still, his breathing slightly accelerated from the 
abruptness of his waking, and concentrated.

Heard and felt nothing but the soft breathing of his partner,
and the warmth of her body pressed against his.  Wondered if 
it had been merely his subconscious at work, pulling him from 
his sleep to get him back on track.

Wide awake now, he carefully extricated his arm from beneath 
Scully's -- in her sleep she had been clutching his hand to 
her chest -- and rolled slightly away from her to bring his 
other arm down from its position as his makeshift pillow.  
Scully sighed and made an undecipherable sound, but did not 
wake.  

Depressing the Indiglo button on his Timex, Mulder saw that 
it was just after three a.m.  They had been grabbed almost 
four hours ago, and other than the stun gun assault before 
they had been thrust into their present quarters, there had 
been no further contact with anyone.  And as far as he knew, 
no one had checked on them either.

Unconsciously, his eyes lifted and he peered up at the ceiling,
despite the darkness.  Searching in vain for the surveillance 
cameras he was positive were there.

Scully shifted again, and he realized he had come up on one
elbow, the mattress moving with his weight.  "Mulder?" she
murmured, turning her head towards him.  Her voice was thick 
and raspy with sleep.  "Whaz'wrong?" she asked next, slurring
the words slightly.

The sleepy, unintentionally sexy sound drew his attention -- 
though her voice in all its connotations always had, really.  
He briefly reflected on how effectively that voice could
challenge him, calm and soothe him.  And at the other end of
the spectrum, how it could turn him on.  Like it had just
then.  He willed the thought away, this was not the time or 
place.

"Nothing's wrong, Scully," Mulder finally whispered, watching 
her fight to lift her eyelids.  "Go back to sleep."  Without 
thinking, he brought his hand to her brow, where a lock of her 
hair lay partially over one eye.  He brushed the curl gently 
aside, and when she did not protest, combed his fingers through 
the tangled strands over her ear.  

<>

The faint, hazy thought and its unintentional message made him 
smile, and he couldn't resist the urge to glide his fingers over 
her hair again.  "Sleep," he repeated, hand lingering.

Her head moved against his palm in a tiny nod of agreement as 
she sighed, and moments later her breathing became deep and even.

It was very tempting to lay back down, to curl his body around
hers and fall back into sleep, but he had sworn to himself 
earlier that he would stay on guard.  And he had already shirked 
his duty once, albeit unintentionally.  Not to mention that doing 
so could lead to being lulled into acting on those thoughts that 
had been spurred by the sound of her voice.

So instead, he carefully and regretfully levered himself over 
Scully and off of the cot, straightening slowly -- his muscles 
were cramped, curled around his partner as he had been.  After 
shaking out both legs, he bent at the waist to touch his toes, 
then did a few other body stretches.  At home or in one of the 
many motels he and Scully stayed at while on cases, he would 
have gone for a run.  

Finding it necessary to move, he walked with quiet, cautious 
steps over to the door that kept them in their prison.  It was 
cool to the touch as he rested his palms flat on the metal 
surface and leaned in, pressing his ear against it.

He hadn't really expected to hear anything, and thus wasn't 
disappointed when that was the case.  Straightening, he tapped
his knuckles on the door gently.  It felt solid.  Thick.  He
stepped back a bit and eyed the entire door and its frame.
Seamless and clean.  Leaving him with the impression that apart
from their kidnappers opening the door, they would need to blast 
their way through to get out.

In other words, he and Scully were not leaving their cell unless 
someone wanted them to leave it.

Frustration and anger, not to mention a healthy dose of curiosity, 
had him close to banging his fists on the metal door.  Both as an 
outlet for those emotions, and as a test.

If it had been only him in this dilemma, he probably would have 
risked the possible consequences of such an action.  But he would 
not willfully and purposely put Scully at risk.

As if he had spoken her name aloud, or perhaps thought-spoke it,
his partner awoke, calling out to him aloud.

"Mulder?" she said in that same sleep-husky voice.  "Is something
wrong?"

Rustling sounds followed her query, telling him that Scully had
shifted on the cot, and when he took the few scant steps back to 
her, he made out that she was now sitting up.  Hesitating just
briefly, he sat down, leaving a foot of space between their bodies.

Even in the dark he was able to discern her next movement -- her
arm lifting to smooth a hand over tousled hair.  "Mulder?" she 
repeated then, her voice clearer.  More awake, more alert.  
Concerned.  "Did you hear something?  Was someone here?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly, feeling her gaze upon him.  
Shrugging despite the fact she might not be able to see the 
motion, he explained.  "I fell asleep by mistake, and snapped 
awake a few minutes ago.  I'm not sure if something woke me up, 
or I woke on my own."

Scully was silent for a long moment, and he waited patiently
for her to gather her thoughts.  She was rubbing her hands up
and down her arms rather roughly, and just as he realized she
was trying to warm herself, she sent a thought.  Though he did
not think she had sent it deliberately.

<>

Now that he thought about it, the cell was distinctly less then
room temperature.  There were no blankets, and both of them were 
wearing only suits with a thin layer beneath.  Another brief 
hesitation on his part, and then he was sliding over until his 
thigh touched hers, raising his arm to wrap around her shoulders.

She startled, but quickly relaxed into his embrace, shivering 
just slightly.  "Thanks," she murmured.

He mind-sent a teasing reply even as he replied aloud, "You're
welcome, Scully."

<>

Her elbow nudged him smartly in the ribs.  But she did chuff 
out a laugh as well.  She also sent a thought, but once again
Mulder had the impression that she had not meant to do so, as 
it cut off abruptly and she then stiffened against him.

<>

His mind immediately traveled in several directions to try and 
complete her sentence, while his mouth blundered on ahead.  
"Wonder what, Scully?" he asked aloud.

She tensed further beneath his arm, and when she replied, her
voice was strangled.  "Nothing, Mulder."

He plowed forward despite the obvious warning that she wanted 
him to drop the matter.  "But, Scully--"

<>

The thought came through loud and clear.  Subsiding, though 
his mind continued to spin through the possibilities, he gave 
her shoulders a slight squeeze of apology.  

It took Scully a few minutes, but she gradually relaxed, and 
even leaned into him more.  Somehow though, he sensed she was 
now on guard.  He got this sudden image in his mind of her 
slamming the vault doors closed on her conscious thoughts so 
that she would not broadcast anything at all, and he was 
saddened by it.  Hearing those unvoiced thoughts of hers, 
whether deliberately or unintentionally sent, was a heady, 
powerfully intimate experience that he enjoyed.  But at the 
same time, he did not want their partnership jeopardized 
because of their ability to read each other's minds.

The silence that followed was not entirely comfortable.

Eventually he felt he had to break it, and brought up something
he had been considering.  Forgetting about the possible audio
surveillance, he spoke aloud.  "Have you noticed at all that
when we're in close proximity to each other--"

Again Scully interrupted him, this time by raising her hand 
to clasp it over his mouth.  The action startled him, though 
he contained the instinctive reaction to pull away.  Awareness 
clicked in, and he nodded his understanding at the reminder
that they had to be careful with what they said.  Her hand slid 
away, and he felt momentarily bereft -- the touch of her palm 
on his lips had been pleasant...definitely pleasant, and in a 
way, comforting. 

With vocal communication out of the question, he sent his words
mentally.

<>

Her reply came back a long moment later, as if she had been
weighing the evidence carefully before making a decision.  An
occasionally frustrating facet of her character.

<>

Unfortunately, that was a very valid point.  There were tests 
that might have given credence to his conjecture -- tests that 
were to have been scheduled by Byers with the Gunmen's 
'associates'.  Tests that were not going to happen now.

A faint hope stirred anew at the thought of the Gunmen -- that
he and Scully's kidnapping had been caught on camera by the 
three, and a rescue plan was already in effect.  Pushing the
hope aside for now, he replied to Scully.

<>

Her response came after another lengthy pause.

<>

It was hard to feel victorious while sitting there in the dark
with the unknown before them.  So he said nothing further.  Nor
did Scully, for some time.  When she did, her mind-voice nudged 
him out of the blank state he had fallen into.

<>

<>

<>

A subject they had not yet discussed, though it had never been 
far from his mind.  Hers as well, he imagined.  His thoughts
on the matter were leaning heavily on the negative side.  It 
seemed hers were too, for the fear and apprehension had rung 
through in her mind-question.  He chose his words carefully.

<>

He felt a fine tremor run through her, and pulled her tighter
into his side, rubbing his hand up and down her arm in what he
hoped was a soothing gesture.  After a moment, Scully shifted
slightly and lay her cheek on his chest, her own arm coming up 
to wrap around his middle.  Seeking and providing comfort.  

Minutes passed with no further conversation, and Mulder found 
himself recalling the events of the day once again.  The fact
that the Commandos had dumped them after the grab from Kushov's
lab still confounded him.  Why let them go only to take them
again later?  

Scully mind-spoke then, and he marveled at how her thoughts
paralleled his own.

<>

Before he could reply, she continued on, coming to the same
conclusion that had just then occurred to him.

<>

<>

She didn't respond except to rub her cheek against him a 
moment, and he let the conversation end.

They passed the remainder of the night in silence, seated
together on the cot, neither willing to leave the other.  

Waiting.

***
End Part 7 of 12

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