Disclaimer, etc. in Part 1
Miraculous Manifestation (3/3)
by mountainphile
Crouching in the semi-darkness next to the small, stone statue, Scully shakes her tired head in disbelief and lowers her flashlight. "Over three hours it took us to get here, Mulder... "
"Please... don't. Don't even start with me, Scully. Just give me something to wipe this crap off my hand before I lose my cool."
The statue's tears have nothing to do with spiritual sorrow or miraculous manifestation. They have everything to do with the devious application of a common, glycerin-based lubricant, which Mulder is endeavoring to remove from his fingers. Exposure to the air has turned the usually slick substance gummy and viscous.
"Goddammit... " he mutters, wiping his hand in the grass.
Scully fumbles in her pocket, bringing out several packets of moistened towelettes. Breaking one open, she reaches for his hand, begins rubbing the damp paper between his fingers with firm strokes. "Squeamish, Mulder?"
He looks surprised. By way of explanation she nods toward the packets and offers, "Compliments of your fast-food run. I also know you'd never use them on your own."
"Fortuitous, then."
She works on each strong finger, pondering how he could pick up so much of the mess in the short time since they knelt to examine the icon. Worse than a kid, she thinks. To facilitate their investigation, the family has moved the small shrine from the site of the hidden hot spring to the front of the house, where they crouch before it. Here, she can still smell the telltale, rotten-egg scent of the water on the stone's granite-gray surface. And here, she wipes the evidence of fraud from her partner's inquisitive hand, hoping in the process that her touch will also erase some of the disappointment and frustration he must feel.
She glances over at him and realizes he's watching, not her ministrations, but her face. In the dim light, his eyes seem both calm and tender. She wonders what her expression has unconsciously revealed in the last few minutes.
"Mulder... "
Forestalling her, he shakes his head, moving from the crouch to a standing position again. "Not yet... But thanks for cleaning me up, Mom."
"Mulder, you have to go in and tell them the truth... "
In a few minutes he does, and the perpetrator of the lie, they discover, is none other than the homeowner's pretty, dark-haired niece. She doesn't deny the allegation, but her loud, frantic sobbing echoes through the spacious halls when her deception is revealed. The dull terror of coming judgement in her eyes haunts Scully.
She finds herself quickly gathering her supplies together and walking out to deposit them in the car. Though she hates feeling vulnerable, too many past fragments of herself are revealed in the young woman's face and eyes. Mulder turns his head toward her, but she leaves him to deal with the confessional aftermath.
Moments of dread and humiliation, frozen in time. She remembers standing at attention before her own father's cold, disapproving stare. He made her feel criminal, as a child, as if her disobedience was a personal affront. Even as an adult, and after his death, he has the power to squeeze her heart anew. ("I expected more from you, Starbuck. Haven't I taught you better than that? And here I thought you knew to do the right thing.")
Daniel took a different approach, treating her instead like a silly child, and then withdrawing his affections from her. Punishing her with scorn. ("God, Dana... you *really* know how to kill the mood! Forget the FBI -- it's a pipe dream, baby. Don't be foolish.")
He would toss her underwear back to her, if they happened to be in bed, his love petulant and conditional. In a calculated move, he would wait to see her cave, come crawling back. For a while his strategy worked. But at the end, she valued her dignity more than his influence, and was unwilling to keep up the pretense and the hypocrisy of a lie.
Truth, dignity, self-respect. These are the qualities Scully requires, even craves, when she charts her own path in life. Insulation becomes necessary in order to acquire them, in order to succeed as a woman in a man's world. How could she even suspect that her solitary journey would lead her, with unerring surety, to a government building and a shadowy basement office? That she would align herself with a man, both misunderstood and brilliant, who holds stars and dreams in his eyes, who offers her his hand in partnership -- and now, perhaps, even his heart...
Jogged from her musing, she sees Mulder leave the house and tries to read his face. His beloved features reflect only concern as he approaches the car. Why is she so grateful for his presence just now? It seems natural and right when he moves close to her side, to lean an elbow on the car and look down into her face.
"You OK, Scully?"
She nods. "I'm... fine... just put our stuff away." Looking down, she gives a hint of a smile. "Did you wash your hand?"
"Didn't have to," he smiles back. "You took care of me."
"Mulder... " She takes a deep breath before continuing. "I'm sorry there's no X-File here for you... again. I know how much this meant to you, how much you wanted it to be genuine. And I certainly didn't make it any easier for you. As usual."
"What do you mean?"
Can she make him understand? This man of passion who stands with head tipped forward towards her, leaning his upper lip against the clenched curve of his fist, eyes hungry...
"Oh, Mulder... it's so easy to discount or dismiss the intangible. We throw cold water on it and pretend it isn't there, that it can't *possibly* be there, because of a predisposition we may have towards the scientific and the rational. Yet... things happen. Things that can't be explained in any logical, scientific manner. So then, the greater challenge must lie in knocking down the barriers of doubt. In reaching beyond our self-imposed boundaries to embrace that which is unknown. Isn't that what *you* believe to be true?"
She looks up at him with anxious, glistening eyes and suddenly realizes how much like Daniel she's sounded over the years. The thought makes her ill. Somewhere, during the early, critical development of her convictions and need for approval, Daniel's left his mark. The skeptical, denigrating sneer, like intrusive gouges etched into hardening cement, has marred her. His influence and teaching permeate her being like a virus. It took seeing him again, revisiting his manipulation, to make her aware of the awesome control he exudes.
Mulder's hand touches her chin and startles her from reverie. "What's going on?"
"I... " She shrugs, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I don't know, Mulder... these last few weeks... " She shakes her head in confusion, knowing the late hour and fatigue are also affecting her thoughts and judgement. Looking full into his gentle face, she whispers. "My God, whom would I talk to if I didn't have you? What would I do, Mulder? No one else could possibly understand."
"I'll take that as a compliment," he murmurs, twisting one corner of his mouth into the hint of a grin, his eyes narrowed in that expression she finds so endearing. It's the conciliatory, tender look he uses when he's reassured she's come back to him, back to his side.
"Mulder, what if the signs we encounter in life are distorted, maybe even deceptive... and we need someone else to help us validate them with us? What if that other person is so necessary to the balance that we're hampered in our ability to truly understand the meaning behind certain events in our lives until that special connection is made?"
"Then, the true challenge is in the choosing -- or finding - - of that person."
He leaves that thought undisturbed and open, like a pearl exposed and waiting to be plucked from the shell. Giving her cheek a soft caress he asks, "So you don't hold it against me? Dragging you out on another Friday night to bay at the moon? And it just so happens that there *is* a full moon tonight... "
"How appropriate."
"I knew you'd think so. Scully, the law of averages is stacked against us right from the beginning," he says. "How likely is it that we'd come all this way to actually find the elusive miracle? The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow...?"
"That's where faith comes in," she whispers.
His quiet laugh fades when he looks down at her tense face. Softly, his finger traces the line of her jaw, before dropping to his side. "I need to go back inside and finish up with these people. We'll be spending the night here, at their invitation. Bedtime soon."
She sighs and nods, thinking a soft bed would be a very good thing right now. "I'll come back in with you. I'm done here."
"No... actually, I want you to go and have a look at that hot spring."
"What?"
"Yeah, Scully, go check it out. Get a feel for it. Remember, that's supposed to be the real mystery, the true healing miracle. Take your flashlight and head up that path over there, and I'll be back soon to get your take on it."
And before she can respond, he's turned on his heel, striding back to the house.
**************
Tonight Scully surprises even herself.
It isn't like her to be out strolling a stranger's property alone at midnight. It's even less like her to suddenly strip off her clothes and dip naked into dark, steaming waters under a full-faced moon...
But she's doing it. Initially for Mulder, because she knows his assessment of this phenomenon will be based on firsthand experience. But now, also, for herself, because she feels brave and daring enough to break this trail ahead of him, rather than following his lead. Finding the small bathhouse, complete with fresh towels, is reassuring. She sits submerged in the dark, steamy water, watching the sky... and waiting.
Blue moonlight gilds her shoulders amid the subtle movement of the water. It's warm, with the pungency of rotten egg, and clouds of steam rise from the surface as she sits gingerly on a small ledge, feet braced against the slick rock. The crunch of Mulder's footsteps on the gravel path can be heard long before she sees the flashlight's beam and his dark form outlined against the sky.
He slows down, hesitates, before approaching the side of the spring. She knows he takes in every detail, though his eyes are hidden in shadow. He who is always alert to detail, who is never still or stagnant, appraises the scene before him. His chuckle is quiet and appreciative.
"Looks like I've found my miraculous manifestation."
"Shut up, Mulder. You could say I'm simply... testing the waters... "
"Then I'm joining you," he announces, dropping to a crouch and reaching out to touch the water with a curious hand.
"Be sure and keep it out of your mouth, Mulder. Just a word to the wise. This water is teeming with bacteria that shouldn't be ingested."
The anticipation she feels thrills Scully. She's paying attention to a miracle in her own life. Forks in the road and the subsequent choices she's made have lead her, without a doubt, to this very moment in time. Here, to a natural hot spring far in the Virginia mountains, to a man who's been her partner for seven long and fascinating years. To Mulder.
He stands and begins to disrobe before her, removing his jacket and tie, his belt, the light blue shirt. "Are you telling me it's polluted?"
"No, but it's like any other natural water source. At the very least we know there is likely to be E. coli and giardia."
"Not much room in there, Scully," he observes, taking off shoes and socks. "May be a tight fit."
She catches the implication, wholly prepared to accept the consequences of his entry into the spring, yet not certain how far to take his innuendo. Little space means touching skin. And once that occurs, well... she knows all about long-suppressed desire and chain reaction. It's a volatile mix.
She sits in a precarious stew, watching as Mulder unzips his trousers and lets them drop to his ankles in a heap. Poised, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and looks down at her. "Did you hear what I said?"
"I heard you, Mulder. And like I told you earlier, you don't scare me."
"That's not my intention."
"I know. Bad joke." Averting her eyes as he slips off the underwear, she runs restless fingers along her collarbone. He scuffles on the rocks, splashes in the semi-darkness, mumbles as he steps on the uneven bottom before finding a small shelf of submerged rock on which to sit. Covering her mouth, it's all she can do to suppress a giggle at his less than graceful entry.
His hands, looming from behind, settle on each of her shoulders and he leaves his seat to kneel at her back. In her peripheral vision, she sees him look around the pool and into the night shadows, as if he's making a precautionary sweep of the area.
"Miraculous healing waters," he murmurs, with finality.
"I hope they are, Mulder. For your sake... I want them to be."
Turning his full attention back to Scully, he places a moist kiss on her jaw; his way of telling her he appreciates the sentiment. His thumbs trace the bones of her shoulders with gentle strokes. She can feel his knees and thighs behind her, the heat of his breath in her ear.
"So... what were you saying about the water? If smell is any indication, I wouldn't be surprised to find out Humpty- Dumpty took his last tumble off the wall right here."
"The rotten-egg odor is the sulfur."
"And the E. coli, I know about that. But what big, bad things will giardia do to my system?"
He's mouthing her skin as he speaks, applying small kisses to her shoulders and neck, while his hands play with her hair and trace circles on her upper arms. Mulder's touch is intoxicating; she's finding it difficult to think and answer his questions.
"Giardia is... um, actually called Giardia Lamblia, a parasite that's quite... common in outdoor, untreated water sources. It causes severe intestinal distress if... ah, ingested... and antibiotics are usually necessary... "
"So we won't drink it."
"And because the water in springs like this is not... often replaced, bacteria and other organisms can grow to high levels... in such geothermal conditions. And shouldn't be introduced... into the body... "
The caresses halt, and Scully can almost feel the wheels of thought turning in his brain. "I sincerely hope you're not going to rain on my parade... "
"No... not maliciously, but it's my parade, too, Mulder. You did your own research on hot springs and thermal conditions, so you know this information as well as I do."
"Not all the scientific stuff... and *you* know how it turns me on when you wax scientific."
And then she feels his hand slide down into the water, tickling her ribs, sliding around to the front. Closing her eyes, she feels Mulder's fingers lift and stroke her breast, pull and tease her hardening nipple.
At his touch, she inhales deeply. He leans over to kiss her throat, then cradles her chin with the other hand and guides her head to the side, towards him, where he can take her mouth.
What great life-altering changes happen in a short period of time, she marvels. Hours earlier she was contemplating how to understand and fully trust this man. Now she's poised naked before him, her body preparing itself to receive him, welcoming and warming under his skillful attentions. If only...
She breaks the kiss, hoping he understands what's at stake here. Mulder in a headstrong, obsessive state is difficult enough to turn aside. However, she's never before experienced a Mulder inflamed and blinded by passion, so is not exactly sure what she's dealing with. Turning around to face him, she finds that shadows obscure his face, increasing her sudden anxiety.
"Are we clear on this, Mulder? We can always wait... "
His lips brush over hers, silencing her.
"Not on your life. I want you to relax, Scully... because now I get to show you how well I can improvise." And he pulls her toward him as he sits back on the underwater ledge.
His gentleness surprises her. The way he takes possession of her body, bold in his tactile investigation of it, does not. No permission is requested; his hand simply glides over her skin with the confidence and authority of ownership and she allows it. The heat of the water intensifies the fire left by his touch. She savors each precious moment, delights in the relentless hunger of his hands and mouth as she floats within his embrace.
Tracing the contours of her body under the water, his hand moves over her back and waist. She trusts the inexorable journey his fingers make as they blaze a new trail on her skin. Moving again to her front, they ripple over her breasts, light as bubbles against them before continuing on.
With tenderness his hands part her thighs and suddenly she feels it, with a shiver of desire. Mulder's touch between her legs. Soft, not invasive, he rests there. Her thigh muscles tighten with expectation and she breathes heavily, leaning forward to press her lips against his neck.
"Easy, Scully... " he whispers into her ear. "Easy now... "
His hand is still busy, large and greedy, sliding down to cup her bottom and stroke its roundness, then moving up again to grasp the flaring curve of her hipbone. Another hand presses on the small of her back. She is held immobile, positioned within his grasp by the strength of these dual caresses.
Now she's able to identify, for the first time, that part of him pressing itself to her. A wave of arousal grips her as she realizes that this contact is the most intimate they've ever shared.
"Mulder... " she gasps. His fingers tighten on her lower body in response.
"Shhhh... Take it slow... "
The smooth underside of his cock, not his hand, has been resting against her folds. He moves himself gently, creating a tempo, up and down, in the swollen nest of her vulva. Each upward movement skims her clitoris with an almost painful sweetness, stealing her breath, as Mulder's hands guide her hips. The motion is effortless, gentle and repetitive. There are inches of space between them in order to maintain the precious angle required. She clutches his shoulders and upper arms for balance, and then reaches down into the water to hold him in place against her own heat when he slips, to maintain the pressure. Suspended in the water, they kiss and stroke and whisper.
"God, Scully... "
"Yesss... "
"Care-ful. Yeah... outside... "
She knows he won't enter her in this spring-fed water, since imprudence will reap consequences later. For now, the rubbing of his sex against hers, the hot wetness of his mouth and tongue, are enough to propel her towards sweet release as waves of pleasure build and radiate from their common touchpoint.
"Mulder, harder... please... "
"OK, OK... " He laughs deep in his throat at her urgency.
His hands pull her closer, to increase the rocking pressure of their most tender parts until, like the explosive venting of a geyser, she climaxes, shuddering in spasms against him. As the intensity of her orgasm subsides, she feels Mulder's flesh harden and jerk under her hand. He follows her, groaning, letting his semen dissolve into the dark currents of the pool around them...
This must be what a miracle feels like, she muses afterward as she straddles Mulder's lap like a limp, open book, thighs wide apart. This is trust and peace of the most intimate kind, to press her bare breasts against him, hair spread like a veil over his shoulder. She feels the glide of his fingers from back to buttocks, moving in and out of the water. He murmurs disjointed words of love into her ear.
Moving slightly within his arms, she re-submerges her cooling shoulder into the water's warmth. Nuzzling her face into Mulder's neck, she whispers, "I think this is it."
"What? The hot bath I promised you?" He presses his lips against her cheek, holds her tighter.
"No, the X-File, Mulder. You were right... these *are* the healing waters."
Now he's intrigued enough to push her back so he can watch the moonlight touch and illuminate her eyes. "What makes you say that?"
"They have to be... for me to feel the way I do. And you. For us to be here, like this." And leaning over him, she closes his eyes with tender fingers. When she kisses him, it's a gentle benediction.
***************
It was just a short month ago that she woke alone to the green ripple and shimmer of water in the night. She closes her eyes to recapture the scene, but now it eludes her, remains hazy and dream-like. The distortions in the fish tank are gone, the pillow-pattern on her cheek replaced by the soft fuzz of Mulder's chest hair. His arms are better than any blanket. And she realizes they can share a bed and a miracle anywhere... even floating under the stars in a healing spring.
With a sleepy smile, Mulder responds to her thoughts, pulling her body so close to him they are molded as one in the water's warmth.
His lips pressed to her ear, she hears his soft whisper, feels the strength of his embrace.
"You're not alone. I happen to believe in miracles, too, Scully... "
***********
THE END
May 26, 2000
AUTHOR'S NOTES: My thank you and acknowledgement to Robert Todd Carroll, in providing astute and valuable definitions for both Scully and Mulder's use in this story.