TITLE: Voices in the Mind
AUTHOR: Susanne Barringer
EMAIL: sbarringer@usa.net
ARCHIVE: Anywhere okay with these headers attached.
CLASSIFICATION: SRH
KEYWORDS: MSR
RATING: NC-17 for sexual language
SPOILERS: small ones for Fight the Future
SUMMARY: Mulder seeks help for the voices in his head.
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox.
No money is being made off my use of them; no infringement intended.
It is SO much fun to mess with Mulder's head!
***********
Voices in the Mind
by Susanne Barringer
The voice zoomed across the office, cutting through the tortuous intensity
of endless paperwork. Mulder jabbed the point of his pen into his hand,
hard, to remind himself of reality.
"What?"
Just in case Scully had actually said what Mulder was sure he'd just heard
her say even though he knew she didn't, he looked up at her and into her
eyes. Her face was serious, business-like, normal. Definitely not the face
of a woman who had just said those magic words. Mulder stabbed his pen
into his hand again.
"I said, I want to leave by six."
It was his imagination at it again. Mulder was sick of his imagination and
its evil tricks. This had been happening for weeks now. He was going
crazy. He'd been hearing things. Things Scully would definitely not be
saying. Things he'd sell his soul to hear her say. In comparison with the
other proposals he'd heard her utter recently in his warped hallucinatory
state of being, this one was mild.
Maybe it was time to see a therapist. A good one. An occasional
misunderstood statement--okay. But this continual voice in his head,
Scully's voice, telling him things she wanted him to do to her or, on a good
day, things she wanted to do to him, was really far beyond normal. Mulder
was well aware of that. He just wasn't sure what to do about it. It was one
thing to fantasize about Scully saying sexual things to him. It was quite
another to actually hear them plain as day.
"Mulder?"
Scully's voice, normal this time, snapped Mulder out of his thoughts.
"What?"
"Did you hear what I said? I intend to get out of here by six o'clock. That
means if you don't quit daydreaming over there, you'll be here all night
finishing up."
You have no idea, Mulder thought. "Yeah, okay Scully. Sorry. I'm just
not with it today."
"Mulder, you haven't been 'with it' for days now. What's going on? Are
you okay?"
"I'm fine."
Scully simply nodded and went back to her paperwork. She was right. He
needed to concentrate and get this stuff done so that they could both go
home. It was Friday, and Mulder could really use a relaxing weekend away
from Scully to try and get his head straight. He put in a good five minutes
of serious work. Then:
"GODDAMN IT!" Mulder jumped out of his chair and threw the papers
he was working on across the room. It took a second before he realized he
had yelled it out loud.
"Mulder, what the hell is wrong with you? All I said was 'thank you' to let
you know I appreciated you getting back to work. You didn't have to yell
at me. What the hell is your problem?"
Scully was pissed, and rightly so. The problem was, Mulder couldn't
explain himself. What could he say?
"I'm sorry, Scully. Really. I just need to get out of here. Can't we just
finish this up on Monday? I need some air." He headed for the door
feeling like he was going to be sick.
"Sure, Mulder." Scully's face registered true concern and Mulder felt bad
for leaving her so suddenly, but he really was beginning to doubt his sanity.
There was no logical reason for Scully's voice inside his head. No logical
reason at all.
***********
Mulder found himself in the living room of Martha Michaels, a
psychologist and an old friend of his. Actually, old friend was stretching it
a bit. They had been classmates at Oxford and members of the same
research group, but not much more than that. After driving all over the DC
area trying to get himself sane as Scully's voice taunted him with promises
the real Scully would never keep, he had called Martha in a fit of
desperation. He needed help and he needed it immediately. Finding a
therapist at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon was more or less impossible and no
way would he ever see one of the Bureau counselors about THIS problem.
He came across Martha's number in his address book, although they hadn't
been in contact much in the last few years beyond annual Christmas cards.
She lived in DC and she was home when he called. In Mulder's mind, that
made her qualified.
There in Martha's living room, Mulder spilled his guts about Scully for the
first time ever to anyone. He told her the whole story, about the voices in
his head, about all he and Scully had been through, about how his heart had
shattered when he thought she was leaving the X-Files, and how they had
come millimeters away from sharing a kiss. Martha listened intently, asked
a few questions, but mostly let Mulder release all the emotion and pent-up
feelings that had brought him to this point of seeking help.
Finally, Mulder stopped, surprised at how easily he had opened up to this
woman he hadn't seen in years. At that moment he realized how much he
had truly needed to talk about it with someone. Martha played friend more
than therapist which allowed Mulder to be more honest than he might have
been under other circumstances. He didn't really have any friends besides
Scully.
"So, you don't think Scully has been sending you messages?" Martha
asked.
"No, I don't. Scully is a professional, always. She would never resort to
flirting or playing games."
"That's not what I meant. Don't you think that you might be unconsciously
picking up on signals she's sending you, perhaps also unconsciously, and
then processing them in a way that your conscious mind can understand?"
Logical, Mulder thought, but not likely in this case.
"Really, I think if Scully were sending me messages, even sexual signals,
they wouldn't quite be *those* kind of messages."
"Perhaps you underestimate your partner," Martha challenged.
"I would never underestimate Scully."
"What I mean is, maybe you underestimate her sexuality, her sexual needs."
"She's my partner for God's sake! I can't think about her sexual needs!"
Mulder realized that sounded rather ridiculous, but he knew Martha would
get the point.
"Yes, but she's also a woman. A woman who, I'm sure, is very sexual, full
of desires and needs."
"I think I'm better off not thinking about her that way," Mulder grumbled.
"Are you advocating that I get physically involved with my partner?"
"No, not at all," explained Martha. "I'm advocating that you quit denying
your attraction to her, the sexual tension between you, the fact that you do
perceive of her in a sexual way despite your assertions to the contrary."
Mulder glared at Martha. "This is not healthy, Martha. This is not good at
all."
"You're mistaken, Mulder. This is the healthiest thing you can do. You've
got to quit repressing all your feelings and desires. It's going to drive you
insane. It's going to kill you."
"Yeah, but Scully would kill me faster if she knew I thought of her that
way."
"You're underestimating her again, Mulder. Give her a chance. It's quite
possible that these messages you're receiving from her are real, are her real
thoughts, even if you assume she would never think of you quite so
explicitly or be quite so forward. You're definitely picking up something
from her. I don't believe for a minute this is entirely your imagination."
"Well, thanks. I appreciate that. Although I'm not sure that's better or
worse than this being entirely my own self-delusion."
"Better," replied Martha, "and a lot less lonely." Mulder smiled. Here, in
this context, Martha's words seemed reassuring and oh so simple. But in
reality, bringing up this issue with Scully, broaching the subject--well, that
thought was mind-blowing. It wouldn't be easy, Mulder knew, but it might
come down to either that or his sanity. Would Scully understand that?
Would she understand that he would only do it because he had no other
recourse? Only when his feelings for her threatened to destroy him from
the inside out?
"She'll understand," assured Martha as if she had read his mind. "If all
you've told me about her is true, I have no doubt that she will understand
more than you think."
**************
Instead of going home, Mulder stopped at Scully's. He knew she was
worried about him, and he wanted to make sure she knew he was okay.
He also knew that Martha was right, that the only way the voice in his head
would go away was if he faced up to the fact that he and Scully had things
to talk about. Martha had given him hope to grasp onto. To wait any
longer would lessen his grip on that hope, and on his sanity.
Scully answered the door with a concerned look. "Mulder, what's wrong?"
"Hi, Scully. I need to talk to you." Scully motioned him in and Mulder
headed immediately to her sofa. He knew any hesitation on his part would
allow him too much time to think. Scully sat next to him and looked
worried, panicked almost. Mulder felt like he ought to set her mind at
ease, but that would be misleading. This was going to upset her, no two
ways about it.
"Mulder, would you please tell me what's going on? I've been so worried
about you. You haven't been yourself lately. I want to know what's
wrong."
Half relieved at her interest and half terrified, Mulder replied, "That's why
I'm here Scully. I've been having some, well, problems. This afternoon, I
went to see a friend of mine, a psychologist. Martha helped me straighten
out my head, but she made me see that I need to tell you what's going on,
even though I don't want to." Mulder wasn't sure he was making sense,
but he was doing the best that he could. This wasn't going to be easy.
"You can tell me anything, Mulder. You know that. Don't you?"
"I do, Scully, but this is different. Please remember that I'm only telling
you because I have to. I'm losing my mind."
Scully took Mulder's hand to reassure him, but it didn't help much. His
nerves were strung taut and his mind was flying over the possible ways to
approach this. Or to get out of it. Having come this far, however, Mulder
decided he couldn't afford to quit. His sanity might depend on it.
"I've been hearing voices," Mulder finally announced sheepishly.
"Again?" Mulder looked up to see Scully smiling. "I'm sorry, Mulder. Go
on."
"This voice has been telling me things, things that I know aren't true or
real, but I can't seem to shake it."
"What kinds of things?"
"Things. About you."
"I'm not sure what you mean, Mulder."
Mulder took a deep breath. "This voice, in my head, tells me that, uh, well,
that you, uh, that you want to, um . . . be with me." Scully quirked a
questioning eyebrow. Mulder decided to spit it out. "That you want to
make love with me."
Scully's mouth dropped open and her face turned bright red. Mulder wasn't
sure what to do so he just sat there. Scully's mouth opened and closed a
few times, like her brain wasn't quite connected to it. Finally, she found
something to say.
"What voice told you this?"
Mulder figured there wasn't much else to lose. "Yours."
Scully's mouth hung open again and, even though Mulder didn't think it
possible, her face became redder.
"I know it's nuts, Scully, and it's even crazier for me to tell you, but I feel
like if I don't that I'm going to go seriously insane. I mean, this voice just
comes to me across the office or in the car or in the lab or wherever and it
says these things, things that are really, well, sexy, and I thought I was
totally nuts but then Martha told me that maybe it wasn't all in my
imagination and that there was probably a reason these voices were coming
to me now and not before, and that I wouldn't be able to get rid of them
until I had faced what was really going on and, unfortunately, that includes
you so I have to face that too so that we, you and I, together, can maybe
figure out exactly what's happening between us so I can stop these damn
voices from ruining everything between us and we can find some semblance
of normalcy again." Mulder had a feeling he was going on a bit much, but
suddenly he felt incredibly nervous. Scully was just looking at him, and
that was exactly what made him so incredibly nervous.
She didn't say anything. Feeling like the silence between them was the
equivalent of a death knell, Mulder felt the urge to fill it. "I'm really sorry,
Scully, I mean really, and I would never have said anything if it wasn't
absolutely necessary but I felt like if I didn't I would end up ruining ev--"
"Mulder!" Scully cut him off. Mulder wasn't sure if that was good or bad.
"Just be quiet for a second." Mulder did as told. Scully paused, then
continued. "What does my voice say to you, exactly?"
"You know. Things."
"What kind of things?"
"Geez, Scully, please don't make me tell you. They're just things I see no
need to repeat. Trust me."
"Tell me, Mulder. You started this, now finish it."
Mulder stared at her. She really had no idea what she was asking. But he
could tell by the look on her face she wouldn't settle for anything but the
truth. "It says things. Sort of sexual things."
"Like what, Mulder?"
Mulder wondered where the hell the ringing phone or knock at the door
were when you really needed them. He looked away, out the window, at
the wall, anywhere but at Scully who, he could feel quite clearly, continued
to look at him as he spoke. "It says things like I want to, um, fuck you and
I want to, uh, well, you know," Mulder cleared his throat several times,
"uh, do certain sexual things. Specific sexual things. Stuff like that. But
more, um, explicit I guess." Mulder's voice cracked toward the end, his
nerves finally getting the best of him. This was worse than any nightmare.
He still didn't look at Scully. He was pretty sure she'd still be blushing. He
certainly was. He was also thinking that maybe his insanity would have
been the better route to have taken here.
"And what makes you think the voice is mistaken?" Well, that was
certainly not something Mulder had thought about. His head snapped back
to look at Scully. Her gaze was steady and he knew she had not once
looked away from him. She wasn't uncomfortable, angry or shocked. She
seemed, in fact, remarkably calm about the whole thing.
"Uh, I don't know. It's a voice inside my head. How could it be real?"
"It doesn't have to be real to be right."
Mulder wasn't sure what to do with that. "What are you saying, Scully?"
"I'm saying that the voice you hear may not necessarily be wrong about . . .
things."
"But it may not necessarily be right either?" Mulder felt like they were
talking in circles and that was not helping this incredibly uncomfortable
situation.
Scully stopped the circling, brought it to a screeching halt in fact. "I do
want to make love to you, Mulder."
Mulder's heart stood still. Did Scully say that? Or was it Scully's voice
that said that? He really had no idea, so he asked his usual question.
"What?"
"You heard me, Mulder. I said, I want to make love with you. That was
me talking. Me. Not the voice in your head, not the voice in my head. I,
Dana Katherine Scully, want to fuck you like there's no tomorrow."
Mulder's heart hit the ceiling, along with his cock which grew so hard so
fast that he swooned and nearly fell off the couch. This was unreal. This
was insane! This was way more insane than the voices in his head.
"Oh," said Mulder finally, not able to come up with anything more
appropriate.
Scully looked at him. Mulder felt truly at a loss as to what to do. He had
been so worried about the voices that he hadn't much thought about what
he'd do if the voice ever became real.
"Now, Mulder. Before I take it back."
Mulder didn't need to be told again.
***********
Perhaps Martha was right and Mulder had, after all, underestimated Scully.
She certainly didn't hold back in any way, and Mulder was quite impressed,
in fact, with what essentially amounted to her total and complete sexual
domination of him. Mulder wondered why he hadn't noticed this side of
Scully before. The side that shoved him up against the wall so hard it
knocked the wind out of him. The side that ripped off his shirt so
forcefully buttons flew clear across the room. The side that pushed him to
his knees to give her what she most wanted and needed.
All the things he had heard Scully say to him in his head were now said to
him from Scully's own lips. And more. He had no idea Scully could talk
that way, not that he minded in the least. She begged him and screamed
the words loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood. And, in the end,
she went after him in a frenzy, not letting him catch his breath until she had
completely and utterly exhausted herself. And him.
Yes, he had definitely underestimated her. This was not at all what he
expected of making love with Scully. He had always imagined it, at least
when he allowed himself to, as something sort of idyllic, pure, romantic,
something that transcended everything else in their world. What he had not
envisioned was Scully on top of him, riding him hard and deep on the living
room floor, screaming his name at the top of her lungs and demanding
things of him that drove him absolutely insane with desire. And, he had
definitely not imagined that she would really say the things her voice in his
head had said, begging him to make her come over and over again, telling
him how much she loved him inside of her, pleading to have him in her
mouth, and pretty much everything else imaginable. It was, quite literally,
like something out of one of his porn movies. Fiction turned to life. In a
big way. Really, it was all rather overwhelming and unreal, and much,
much better than the voices in his head. Scully unleashed was certainly a
sight to behold. He had had no idea.
Afterward, Scully had immediately fallen asleep, from sheer exhaustion he
guessed. Since he couldn't move due to the fact that every muscle in his
body pounded and he had at least a dozen new bruises, the two of them
just lay there on the living room floor amidst the scattered shreds of their
clothing and the pieces of the coffee table which had broken when Scully
shoved him onto it in order to get better access to him. Not even that had
stopped her. The woman was insatiable to say the least. It would take him
the whole weekend just to recover.
He watched her sleep, the deep rising and falling of her chest signaling him
that she would not awaken for a good long time. Asleep she was so
peaceful, serene, calm, normal, not the woman who had just fucked him
within an inch of his life. The transformation was unbelievable.
Mulder finally drifted off to a light sleep, awakening when Scully shifted in
his arms. He was aware of her sitting up.
"Mulder?"
He opened his eyes to see her leaning over him, her hair falling in a cascade
around her face.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay, Mulder?"
Mulder laughed even though it made his ribs hurt. Actually, it made his
whole body hurt.
"I hurt all over, Scully, but I'm fine. More than fine. You?"
"I'm fine, Mulder. I just thought maybe I went a little overboard."
"A little?" He grinned at her so she would know he wasn't serious, and he
was surprised to see her blush. It seemed such a contradiction to the
aggressive, sexual beast that had attacked him just hours earlier.
"Sorry about that. I just really wanted you. It's been building a long time,
hasn't it?"
"Yeah, you could say that. Don't apologize, Scully. It was fabulous. You
were just so . . . not what I expected." Scully threw back her head and
laughed. "Are you always like that?" Mulder asked.
Scully looked down at him and smiled sincerely, and he saw so much in it.
"With you, I think I will be."
Mulder felt his breath rush out of him. "Oh God. You'll kill me."
Scully reached down and stroked his cheek affectionately. "You'll get used
to it," she teased and Mulder thought nothing in the world compared to
Scully's real voice saying things to him, anything.
"God, Scully, you're one hell of a woman."
"Believe it or not Mulder, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
She kissed him lightly on the lips which, not surprisingly, hurt as much as
the rest of his body. "Come to bed, Mulder. You need a good night's
sleep."
Mulder sat and up and let Scully pull him to his feet. "I thought maybe
you'd woken me for more," he cracked.
"Later," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom. "Sleep
now. I want you rested!" Mulder laughed and pulled Scully onto the bed
with him, curling up next to her and wrapping his arms around her.
"Thank God you hear voices, Mulder," she murmured as she drifted off to
sleep.
Yes, he thought, for once in his life, the voices were right.
END
_____________
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