TITLE: I Need You AUTHOR: mountainphile CATEGORY: MSR EMAIL: mountainphile@yahoo.com URL: http://www.geocities.com/mountainphile RATING: PG-13 DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Mulder and Scully are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No infringement is intended. SPOILERS: Post-Millennium, Milagro, Never Again, Chinga SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully come to terms with the past, separation, and new intimacy... NOTES: Thanks to all who sent such kind and encouraging feedback for "I Know You" - this sequel exists because of you! ARCHIVE: I'd be honored, just tell me where and keep my name and email attached... ******************** I Need You (1/2) by mountainphile The announcement came as a surprise to Mulder. Surprise was an understatement; discomfort would better describe the sense of loss he felt as he and Scully sat in Skinner's office and were suddenly informed that she would be leaving for Boston in the space of several hours. Skinner adjusted his glasses, clasped his hands together, and leaned forward onto the desk. His eyes were on Scully. "Your performance in resolving the last case is the motivating factor for this decision, Agent Scully. Whether or not you realized it at the time, several of the field agents called in on this case were from the Boston office. Let's just say that your training...and expertise, if you will, have distinguished you and made them aware of a severe dearth in current forensics training among their own agents. The ADIC himself has requested that you fly up immediately to teach a series of workshops this week at Boston General." Mulder shot a sideways glance at his partner. She tilted her head slightly, considering the prospect. A tiny smile played upon her lips, which he recognized as the same one she sometimes gave to him right before they kissed. She clearly appreciated the distinction that such a request conveyed and, though he was happy for her, the realization pricked him with envy. "Thank you, Sir...would they be expecting the same type of pathology class I taught at Quantico, aimed toward federal agents in the field...?" "I get the impression this goes beyond that," said Skinner. "From what I understand, it extends also to local law enforcement personnel and the DEA. And since it's more cost effective" - raising his eyebrows to emphasize the point - "to put one person on a plane, rather than shoulder the expense of flying several dozen people down to Quantico, well...I'm sure you get the picture." Scully absentmindedly tapped her thigh with an index finger, a metronome for her thoughts. "That doesn't give me much time to pack and to collect the materials I'll need." She frowned slightly, returning Skinner's candid gaze. "Couldn't they have given me any more lead time than this?" Her question pulled a shrug from his wide shoulders. "My apologies, Scully. In this case, I'm just passing on the orders...it all came together rather quickly. You can count on being gone for about a week. They've got you booked solid, so I hope you've been able to get some rest after signing off on the last case. It's a heavy load you're being asked to take on...but I have every confidence that you'll perform at your usual level of excellence." He paused and shifted his gaze quickly. "Is there a problem, Agent Mulder?" Caught off-guard, Mulder stretched his own shoulders self- consciously. He realized his inner thoughts must have been obvious as he listened to the exchange taking place before him, but recovered his typical poise. "No, Sir...there's not. But I also would have appreciated the courtesy of knowing ahead of time that I would lose my partner, her 'expertise', if you will, and the backup she contributes for a full week." He sought to keep the sneer from his voice, but realized he was failing miserably. "You've not been assigned a new case that I'm aware of, Agent. Hence, Agent Scully's availability, or lack of it, should not be an issue at this time." Mulder returned Skinner's stare with steady eyes, unfazed by the curt, dismissive tone, and felt his lip begin to curl in response. Almost a smile, but not quite. "Sir...as you're well aware...the nature of our work doesn't always confine us to a particular case. I believe Agent Scully would concur with me that such short notice is unreasonable..." He inclined his head toward Scully, fishing for support, but was met instead with quiet detachment. "Unreasonable, perhaps...but not objectionable, Mulder," she said in a low voice. Her lips puckered and she looked down, avoiding his eyes, which revealed both surprise and disappointment. ******************** He said very little to her as they made their way down to the basement office. She entered first, briskly, and he pulled the door shut behind them. "I'm impressed, Scully. That's got to be a record." She was already busy at the file cabinet, sifting through the folders, and oblivious to the naked sarcasm in his voice. "What is?" she asked absently. "This opportunity?" "No, I'm referring to the speed with which my loyal partner suddenly evaporated up there in front of Skinner." Her fingers halted their activity and she looked up at him. "So what's your point, Mulder?" "I think my point is obvious. I would have welcomed a little solidarity from you. Instead, I came off like a whimpering fool... with as much impact as a fart in the wind." Trying not to smile, she crossed in front of him and went to his desk, easing open a drawer and picking through the contents until she found a few pens. "Just for the week," she said by way of explanation, and he felt a sudden twinge of regret overshadow his own indignation. Though she maintained a small work area on another floor, where most of her medical files and journals were kept, the majority of her time was spent here in the basement, with the X-Files. And with him. She deserved much better than she received, he knew, yet she held steadfast and remained loyal to everything they set their hands to, whether it be major conspiracy or simple caseload. A dollar late and a dime short...and all the while her need for significance and satisfaction was at stake. He was reminded of another time she went out on assignment, desperately coveting a desk of her own, which, to Scully, had come to represent a tangible symbol of self-worth. She left behind a withered rose petal as a testimony to her pain. And had returned chastened and scarred by the experience. No wonder this occasion to teach was so gratifying. And here he stood, quashing her opportunity for satisfaction... "Well, Mulder," she said dryly, disturbing his thoughts, "My opinion of you is somewhat altered..." She glanced at his face and saw he was not amused. In spite of his banter, his ego had taken a severe blow. "I'll miss you, Scully," he stated flatly, his lower lip in a wistful twist that he hoped was endearing. Her reaction was immediate. She quickly appraised him, head tilted to one side, the lock of reddish hair shading her right eye. Her full lips pulled slowly into a tempting, almost saucy, smile as she approached and looked up into his face. To Mulder she was beautiful. "I know what you're doing, partner," she said knowingly, teasing him. Then, she slipped her hands around his waist and burrowed them under his jacket, while his came up to stroke the back of her head. He leaned forward to feel her silken hair against his nose and mouth, to breathe in her fragrance. Damn, I'm pathetic, he thought. It began on New Year's Eve, nearly a month before. A gentle, exploratory Millennial kiss had become the catalyst for melting the barriers between them and opening a new dimension into their already complex relationship. It was both alarming and exhilarating that each encounter became a potential for discovery. A tender kiss, an embrace, a gentle caress, a smoldering glance. What had been previously familiar had become suddenly sensual. Last week, at her apartment, they began to tread on more intimate ground as his tongue investigated the shape of her ear, as her lips meandered softly along the line of his jaw and neck... It seemed to Mulder that the intensity and energy between them increased with each interlude. After so many years of what he now realized was suppressed desire, he knew he needed her in an almost elemental way and felt loathe to shut off this free-flowing spring and be denied her presence. Even if it was for the space of a week and at the Bureau's request. Yet... "Don't get me wrong," he murmured into her hair. "I'm glad you have this chance to show them how it's done. When it comes to slicing and dicing, you're the best. You'll knock 'em dead...no pun intended." Hugging his waist, she leaned back and looked up at him with a hesitant expression. "As much as I'm flattered and know I can perform well at this...I...I still get uneasy when I think of standing and speaking before a large group of students. Even the labs will be packed." She sighed. "When I taught at Quantico, the classes were all a manageable size. I do much better with a smaller group..." "Personally, Scully, I think you excel at one-on-one. At least that's what I'm discovering..." He leaned forward, toward her lips, but she evaded him. "Hold it right there...minimal contact at work. Remember, we agreed on that. This place may still be bugged and videotaped." "Right. Your arms wrapped around me won't tip off anyone." She smiled and shook her head at him. "I wouldn't call this 'wrapped' by any stretch of the imagination, Mulder. You haven't seen 'wrapped' yet." Her eyes held his gaze for a moment, became softer, warmer. "I'll miss you, too," she whispered. "And I also feel that the timing of this trip isn't the best... I'll call you when the plane lands and I get settled." Her brow wrinkled in sudden distress. "Damn, I need to get moving...I still have to go home and pack. I can't miss that plane." He grinned ruefully, with a mixture of affection and regret. "Don't forget to send me a postcard from Beantown. And, by the way, Scully...I'm also a sucker for presents." Before she could respond, he tipped his head, held her chin firmly, and covered her soft lips with his own. ********** The call came at two in the morning, jarring him from a fitful, uneasy slumber on the leather couch. He swiped wildly for the telephone in the darkness. It was Scully. She had hit the deck running in Boston. Gave her first two lectures, somehow getting a small bite to eat in between. Large classes, but she had done fine. Just checked into the hotel and was exhausted. Lab demonstrations began at eight in the morning and she had to be alert. He visualized her, compact and professional in her tailored suit and white blouse, startlingly attractive, with short hair bouncing softly as she took her place before the podium... "Miss me?" he asked. Yes, of course she did. But the week would be hectic, so he shouldn't expect much communication. She gave him her hotel and room number. Had to say good night, she needed sleep. "And I need you," he whispered as he replaced the phone into its cradle, aware of both the distance between them and an empty place in his heart that he, with surprise, recognized as loneliness. ********** Mulder sat at his office desk the next morning surveying his eclectic domain, and decided it could use a facelift. There wasn't much to be done in the way of work, since a new case had not been assigned, but there were newspaper articles to file, slides of doubtful value that could be labeled and catalogued, and books and magazines that should be stacked into neat piles. The prospect was daunting. He could do little about the ceiling. It remained full of haphazard pockmarks, a testament to another of Scully's past absences. He preferred to leave it as it was and discovered he gained a certain comfort from looking up at the pencil- sized gouges. They were there because of her. It occurred to him that each of her furloughs left its personal signature not just in their office, but also on his heart. She didn't call for several days, and Mulder simply concluded the grueling schedule was taking its toll. He divided his time between organizing the office and doing follow-up on several leads he had previously shelved. Some of his research was accomplished at the computer in his apartment and, as he submerged himself into the details, connecting the threads of theory and evidence, the profiler in him awoke and his spirits rebounded. He did this well. It challenged his reasoning and gave him something to look forward to each morning. Afternoons were different, because he had invariably come across something that could demand Scully's attention. He set these things quietly aside to wait for her return. Evening and the setting sun had always given him an inexplicable feeling of loss, of dread, and his thoughts sank into their usual dusky funk. Eschewing the nominal comfort of his bed, he chose instead to toss restlessly on the couch, eyes on the flickering TV, ears tuned to the phone. Half-heartedly, he fielded several calls from Frohike, who asked about Scully's whereabouts and regaled Mulder with the Lone Gunmen's newest theories on the correlation between chemical warfare, toxic waste, and the human brain. When Mulder declined a second offer of huevos rancheros and a private showing of the newest porn video, Frohicke grunted. "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means that I'm on to you big time, Mulder." He gave a knowing chuckle. "My friend, you've been bitten." "Knock it off, Frohike...I'm in no mood." "Tell me...when does the delectable Agent Scully return? Oh, by the way, there's an incredibly luscious redhead in this film..." Mulder ended the conversation quickly, but couldn't shake the fact that several days had gone by without a call from Scully. He wondered how her week was progressing, who she had contact with. He wondered if she took any time during her busy schedule to think of calling him. Midweek he got impatient and telephoned her hotel room, late enough, he felt, to find her there. In all probability she was dressed in her satin, two-piece pajamas, sitting cross- legged on the bed, glasses on her nose, typing at the laptop as she prepared for the next day's program. Just as she always did when they were on the road together, and had done for the seven years of their partnership. It was comforting to hear, that soft tap-tapping, floating through the connecting door of their motel rooms... After several rings she picked up the phone and sounded glad to hear from him. It was obvious she was not alone. Loud talking, laughing, soft music swirled in the background. Scully explained that several old friends from the Academy who resided in the Boston area and worked at the field office had come back with her to the hotel to visit and catch up. Glasses clinked, the name "Dana" was called out more than twice. After minimal conversation, he said good-bye. He had detected no other female voices. Toward the end of the week he remembered her plants needed watering and he was remiss. Using his key to her apartment, he entered the darkening rooms as dusk bronzed the sky. Her place was so much bigger, better furnished than his was. A woman's home, Scully's home, but it struck him how her femininity was offset by massive pieces of furniture and shelving, as well as a clean, simple decor. It was tidy, spacious, and made him feel welcome. The air smelled like Scully, unique and fragrant. After dumping glassfuls of water on the rubber plant in the livingroom, he moved to the bedroom to throw some on the African violets. They perched on her dresser near the window, and he paused a moment to run his eyes over her bed and pillows in a visual caress. The nightstand with its clock and family photographs, her bookshelf, the soft chair by the window. Her personal belongings. He felt not at all like an intruder, as he sat down on her bed with a territorial flourish befitting an alpha male. Scully. His partner, his closest friend...not truly a "lover" yet, in the technical sense, but he would stand in the way of any other man who tried to take that role away from him. Their awakening attraction and growing intimacy further reinforced his feelings of privilege and possessiveness. He leaned forward toward the dresser and ran inquisitive fingers lightly over her jewelry box. Pulling open a drawer, he noted the colorful assortment of satiny, lacy things within. Scully's panties. Not what he needed to see right now... Before he left the apartment, he deliberately pushed the button on her answering machine, with curiosity more than anything else, and was startled to hear a male voice. Someone named Mark had called to tell Scully that he hoped he hadn't missed her, but was looking forward to getting together when she arrived. He asked her how long she would be staying in Boston after the seminar. He called her "Dane"... ********** Mulder tried to call her several times that evening, but to no avail. Finally, with growing aggravation, he dialed her cell phone number. Her answer was almost instantaneous, and she asked anxiously if anything was wrong. "No, nothing's wrong," he responded, stifling the irritation in his voice. "Other than the fact that you're damn hard to get a hold of." He lowered his voice. "It's also remotely possible that I could be missing you...and you don't seem wild to return the favor..." She sighed into the phone. "Mulder, you're being ridiculous and nothing is farther from the truth." "Maybe...but the truth I'm perceiving seems hard to swallow right now." He was quiet for a moment, waiting for a response, but heard nothing except her soft breathing. "Oh, by the way...I finally got around to watering your plants, as promised. I went over today. They look as if they'll pull through." She thanked him. Hoped he was well and would tell him about the workshops and her busy week when she flew back tomorrow night. She felt dead on her feet. "Not too tired to look up old friends, though, hey, Scully? How's Mark doing these days?" "Dammit, Mulder, that's none of your business...so, what else have you been helping yourself to, besides snooping on my answering machine?" There was an awkward silence as she waited for him to speak and when nothing seemed forthcoming, she said, "Listen, this is not the time or place-- " "But it is my business. Most definitely... So, uh, 'Dane'... where are you right now?" "Mulder, that's enough. Mark's an old friend of mine, and Jack's, from our days at the Academy. There's nothing between us other than friendship and some shared memories, for God's sake." "Was Mark an instructor at the Academy too? I hear those boys really get to know the student body." Scully gave a soft sound of disgust. "I don't have to listen to any more of this. I'll talk to you when I get back..." "Which will be...?" "After this conversation, Mulder, I'm not so sure..." It look him a moment to realize that the sound he heard was a dial tone, and that she had actually hung up on him. ******************** TITLE: I Need You (2/2) AUTHOR: mountainphile Mulder pulled off his glasses and took a quick look at his watch. Scully should have phoned him by now, this evening when she was expected to return. Distracted from the magazine he was reading, his mind played with possibilities and decided that Scully was either too exhausted to make the effort... or had no desire to talk with him at all. It was also possible she had extended her stay in Boston. He quickly picked up the phone and dialed her cell. After three rings he got the connection and heard her say, "Scully here." "Scully, it's me. Welcome back." Her voice sounded tired, distant. "Thanks, Mulder. It's good to be on solid ground again and in familiar territory." She was quiet a moment, which left him wondering where she was, but at least her choice of words was encouraging. As if reading his thoughts, she offered, "I've just picked up my car and am leaving the airport. It's late. I... I'll talk to you tomorrow, after I get some sleep." She paused. "Is that OK with you?" He closed his eyes, pressed the phone tightly against his cheek, and decided to go for broke. "Scully... I'd like to talk to you tonight." "I know you want to talk. So do I... but I think it should wait until I've caught up on some sleep and we're both in a better frame of mind." Her words stung, but he intentionally ignored the hurt and pursued her. "There's nothing wrong with my frame of mind. And I need to talk to you as soon as possible, so you tell me the best way we can accomplish that." There was a silence. "Either I drive over there and meet you at your place... or you stop here on your way home." "Mulder... " "Take your pick, Scully." He made his voice gentle. "I'm not trying to be difficult, believe me. I... I just need to see you." When she answered, her voice had lost its briskness, and he knew she was bowing to the inevitable with grace. "Give me twenty minutes. I'll be there shortly." ******************** Mulder cast a glance around the room to ensure all was presentable. The place seemed gloomy, making him wonder if the wattage was too low or a bulb was burnt out. It dawned on him that the atmosphere of his home was an accurate reflection of himself and his state of mind, mirroring the low ebb of his spirits. A sloppy heap of magazines on the coffee table caught his eye, just as three soft knocks struck the door. Scully stood there, small and fatigued, faint smudges of exhaustion under each eye. She wore a black pantsuit, the fabric slightly wrinkled across the lap from travel. Taking the hand he offered, she walked slowly with him, feet almost dragging as he led her to the couch, past the magazine mess, the dirty coffee cup, and through the stale air. But he noticed none of those things now. Instead, he was acutely aware of the woman before him -- her familiar intoxicating scent, the way the light caught the fire in her hair, the glisten of her lips, the soft curve of her breast... He pressed his cheek against hers in cautious greeting and eased her down onto the cushions. Awkwardness made him feel timid, hesitant, and he had the distinct impression they had somehow lost ground. Almost as if coming through a time warp, but he was unable to account for it. "Sorry it was such a rough week for you, Scully. I didn't want to make you come too far out of your way." "It's OK... and I *have* managed to function at much lower levels than this, so don't worry about it." She let her head fall back to look up at him fully and seemed perplexed. "Mulder, you haven't shaved for a few days. Why not?" Before he could reply, he heard the sound again. It was the same one he'd been hearing for months, but now it was especially irritating. A distant clank, a tinny rattle. Neighbor-noises, like little slaps in the face, coming through the metal grate situated high on the opposite wall. Scully hadn't noticed. She waited for his answer, legs loosely crossed, hair red-gold and luminous against the dark leather of the couch, her car keys nestled in the crevice between her thighs. The unbuttoned jacket had fallen open, so he could see the satiny top she wore pulled tightly across her chest, across the thin bra underneath it. She rubbed restlessly at her watch and he felt his own chest constrict with regret, that already walls of silence and insecurity were rising between them, threatening the fragile growth of their budding intimacy. "Mulder? Is something wrong?" He stood before her, his thumbs thrust into his jeans pockets, his mouth set into a mulish pout. "It's been a long week," he said. She smiled thinly. "It's good to be back. But you're making me tired just watching you stand there. Aren't you going to sit down?" Her hand patted the cushion beside her. "After all, you called and invited me to come over... " "Invited you?" Mulder laughed and the sound seemed harsh, even to his ears. "You, of all people, Scully, don't need an invitation. You can walk in here any time of the day or night, whenever you please... " The grate echoed above them, to his annoyance. "Hell, I have neighbors who would be beside themselves to have you to drop in unannounced... " The words hung in the air like an accusation, forcing her gaze and chin up towards him. A ripple of concern began to furrow her brow, overriding the fatigue. "I'm not acquainted with anyone else on this floor, thank you," she said. Expansively, his hands gestured into the air. "Suddenly so shy? As I remember, you have a talent for making social calls... " She uncrossed her legs and sat up. "Mulder, what are you getting at?" He brooded, against his will reinforcing the wall growing between them and powerless to stop it, like a passenger trapped on a runaway train. "Try Phillip Padgett." Her brows arched. "What the hell does Padgett have to do with anything?" When he didn't respond, she gathered herself to stand up. "Look... maybe it would be a good idea if I left right now. I'm too tired to deal with this... " "No, Scully -- " He moved forward, blocking her, forcing her to stay seated on the couch. "I'll tell you what the hell Padgett has to do with anything," he muttered sarcastically, his pain no longer concealed. "I close my eyes and see you sitting on that joker's bed, next to him, like some misplaced toy, like a sick mistake. So vehemently defending your right to be there. Setting me straight, telling me, in so many words, to butt out -- " He began to pace, shaking his head, as his voice increased in passion. "Observe the advantages of a photographic memory! I close my eyes and see the words on the pages that bastard typed. Graphic, *a priori* descriptions of what he wanted to do with you, to you... and how you so willingly responded to him, giving some special, secret part of yourself. And, dammit -- " He turned away, then swung back again to face her with wounded eyes. "I still wrestle with that, Scully. How you could be drawn to the intimacy of a stranger's bedroom, yet act like you need an invitation to come into my... " "Mulder... get hold of yourself." She stood up now, pulling her shoulders back. Her face was pale in the dim light, her voice tight with indignation. "This is unacceptable and you are out of line. Number one, because there's no basis for comparison here. None at all. And number two, because nothing ever would have happened." He snorted. "We both know that hasn't always been the case, has it, Scully?" The words leapt out before he could stop them. She stared at him with incredulous eyes, unbelieving. Insulted at the implication and that he would dredge up the memory of Ed Jerse after so much time, her cheeks flushed and her eyes took on a dangerous sparkle. "You're speaking right out of your ass, Mulder. And this conversation is over." As she leaned forward to pick up her keys, which had dropped from her lap, it struck Mulder that he had tossed out the straw that could break and destroy their new openness, that could irreparably damage the trust they had nurtured between them. After tonight, she would treat him with civility and deference, not with the warmth and degree of intimacy they had experienced a week ago. Whatever the cost, he couldn't let that happen, but felt helpless, powerless to prevent her from leaving. "What was it, Scully?" he entreated her, his hand over his eyes and forehead. "What made it so... compelling... that you could risk... " He heard her stop, listened to her labored breathing, and then to the tremor in her voice. "What do you want me to say, Mulder? I felt neglected. Misused. Unappreciated... " she swallowed, "By someone I looked up to and respected... someone I cared for... deeply." Her voice caught, then recovered. "I tried to fill a need and succeeded in digging myself into a pit of emptiness. I ended up only hurting myself... and you. I... I had no idea how much." Rustling movements signaled her departure. "It sounds like we're cut from the same bolt of cloth," he muttered. "You've just perfectly described my feelings this past week... and tonight. I need you, Scully. Right now I don't know where I stand... what my expectations are, or should be. And I won't blame you for taking the door and getting the hell out of here. You deserve better than the crap I just slung at you." Steeling himself for the creak of the front door, he heard her soft footsteps and the jingle of car keys as he stood silently, his head down, eyes closed, hands hanging loosely at his sides. He held his breath... Like a dream, he felt gentle, familiar arms encircle his waist and clutch his back, felt her warm length pressed against him, her breath puffing hotly against his neck in an effort to regain her composure. With Scully came healing and wholeness, and in her simple embrace he felt the scuffs and sting of desperation fade, felt only a soothing restoration steal over his being. She was the doctor, and he reflected with surprise how her healing touch extended not only to his body, but also to his heart, to his very soul. The car keys, forgotten, dropped from her fingers with a metallic thud. As her body lay flush against him, he gathered her in with strong arms and soft murmurs, grounding himself by running his hands over her back and shoulders, along her waist and hips. The body of his partner, his friend, his... He placed several lingering kisses on her neck before pulling back to hold her face between his hands and look into her eyes. What he saw there eased the ache in his heart, yet awoke the possessiveness within him. He touched hesitant lips to hers, testing, and was relieved to feel her moving into his kiss, meeting him willingly. "No barriers between us, Scully," he murmured. "No baggage from the past setting us at odds anymore. I've spent most of my life pursuing things that elude me. Nothing seems to come without a hefty price... and I hope that by now we've both paid enough." She drew back to look at him. "It goes both ways, Mulder. I've had reason enough to wonder how much you really need me, how I can possibly measure up and fit into the unique and complicated blueprint of your life. There have been others... that have made me feel like an onlooker as your quest for the truth unfolded. Even a casualty... " "No, Scully... " "Yes, I can't deny to you I've felt those things. And damn it all, I've resented it!" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "And there were those times when my own feelings of frustration and neglect became too overpowering... I looked for something to fill that void. But then, in spite of everything, you would invariably turn to me. And that kept me going. You believed in me." Her eyes glistened with sudden moistness. "Mulder, you reached out to me like a lifeline, and you reeled me in and restored me. Yes," she conceded softly, "You are special to me... and I need you to be an important part of my life." She kissed him lightly on the unshaven bristles of his cheek. "So we're agreed, then, to allow nothing to damage what is growing between us... ?" Her stomach muscles moved gently against him. "I'm already aware of something growing between us, Mulder," she whispered. "A side of you that's quite... new to me." A surge of excitement ran through him at her words. He sighed, gently cupping her face with one hand and gazing into her eyes to establish a visual connection. He realized how beautiful, how trusting she was, how she literally placed herself into his hands... and how much he desired her. "Show me, Scully," he said in a whisper. "Show me that I'm special to you... " His fingers left her chin and slowly slid down to the base of her throat, where they explored its hollows, traced the satiny ridges of her collarbone, moved downward to the place right above the swelling of her breasts, and then into the soft valley between them. His fingers gently stroked in place, a feather-touch, awaiting the permission that came when she looked back into his eyes... and nodded. In awe and without hesitation he ran his hand down and over her breast, cupping its fullness, feeling its small weight against his palm. Scully's breast, soft yet firm, through the thin layers of her clothing. His fingertips glided over its front and he felt her hardening nipple push insistently back at him. He circled it, brushed it slowly with his thumb as their eyes stayed locked, as he watched her lips part, her cheeks flush, and felt her deepening breaths. "Are you OK with this?" he whispered. Speechless and heavy- lidded, she nodded again. His other hand then joined the first, continuing this exploratory journey up the other side of her body. He noted, tenderly, that this breast was smaller than the first, but that the matching bead at its center was just as firm, just as taut. Mesmerized, he used his thumb and fingers to gently squeeze and stroke its contours, when she groaned softly and her eyes closed. Her depth of arousal took him by surprise. Marveling at the power he held in his touch, he filled his hand with her again before sliding upwards over her chest and shoulders, sweeping around her body to pull her against him. "Mulder," she said near his ear, her voice low and husky. "Kiss me... and do it right this time." "Have I ever been wrong?" he murmured. He felt her hips lean into him, against his hardness, with a gentle, teasing grind. "God, Scully... " Mulder's mouth moved over hers, exploring with his tongue, and he plunged eagerly inside as her lips parted below him. Scully's mouth. She tasted both sweet and tangy, moist and exciting, and he stroked the softness and warmth of her inner mouth with his tongue again and again, drawing hers to join him as he probed her, reveling in her smoothness and smallness. What had taken only minutes seemed like an eternity. Their lips parted and she breathed a long, shuddering sigh into his neck. And as Mulder held her tightly against his body, it occurred to him that after nearly seven years of working closely with this remarkable woman -- observing her integrity, dedication, and loyalty -- he was experiencing a side of her that he had never seen before. Scully, the woman of passion and trust, had invited him to touch her in ways that set him afire. In ways that only a lover would... In his heart he knew they had already crossed the line. Still partners, still intimate friends, they would now be lovers, whether it happened tonight or some other time soon... There was no rush. Certainty and security made him generous and attentive. He pulled back from her, noting with concern her eyelids, heavy with passion, but also darkened from lack of sleep. After placing his hand against her cheek, he saw how she leaned into it and closed her eyes. Tired and trusting. She had accomplished so much over the past week, distinguishing herself again in the eyes of the Bureau -- and stirring his own emotions. "Scully," he whispered. "You're staying here tonight. Just to sleep, no pressure for anything," he explained soothingly when her eyes opened. "You're exhausted... and I'm so proud of you... " She gave him a wide, grateful smile. "Thank you, Mulder. And we both know... tomorrow *is* another day." "Got that one right... " Putting his arm around her, he eased her head onto his shoulder, smoothing her hair with long, comforting strokes, dispelling fears and reminders of the past. "I need you so much." "We keep saying *need*, Mulder, but that's not what I'm hearing... " His hand stopped its movement mid-caress. "What do you hear?" "*Love*," she said simply. ********** THE END I Need You 01/17/2000