From: Lilla Vaughan 
Date: Tue, 14 Jul 1998 11:49:52 -0400
Subject: NEW: Syncopation 1/1

Syncopation 1/1
by Lilla Vaughan (lillav@yahoo.com)
Distribution: Gossamer okay, others please ask first
Spoilers: XF:FTF, and a tiny one for Anasazi
Classification: SR, MSR
Rating: PG for language
Summary: Our heroes share a quiet evening after the
movie is over.

Lilla's random ramblings: I promised myself I wouldn't
write a flickfic, but I never claimed to have any
willpower. I plead temporary insanity. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Mulder, Scully, or the X-Files,
and couldn't afford to feed them if I did. 

Feedback would be lovely.

********************************************

Syncopation
by Lilla Vaughan (lillav@yahoo.com)


"If I leave now, they win." Scully repeats the phrase
with many more meanings than it had when I said it:
determination, commitment, a promise, a private joke
...and something else, something I'm afraid to put a
name to.

She smiles as she looks up at me, the sun illuminating
the frostbite burns still healing on her face. When she
takes my hand I remember, for at least the 7,389th time,
that we never did finish what we started outside my
apartment. Goddamn bee. Goddamn virus.

As we walk away, our linked hands swinging lightly
between us, I find myself stealing sideways glances at
her. So close. So many times I've been so close to
losing her. But this time was different than the others,
and not only because we came so close to dying
together. This time...this time she was snatched from
my arms just as I was about to kiss her. To *kiss* her.
My best friend, my partner, the woman I see every night
in my dreams, the one woman I won't allow myself to
think about when I jerk off.

I had always thought she could never want a loser like
me. Hell, I still thought that as I chased her down the
hall that afternoon. But my terminal insecurity didn't
matter just then. Every instinct told me that if I didn't
tell her the truth that minute we'd both regret it for 
the rest of our lives.

So I told her. You make me a whole person. I owe you
everything. I don't want to keep going without you.

Her eyes filled with tears then and I knew. She did want
a loser like me, God help her.

She came into my arms, buried her head in my chest,
pulled me down to meet her and kissed my forehead.
And then, and then...

I have to stop that line of thought before I get to the good
part, the part that didn't happen. That way lies trouble.

The sunlight slants at an angle onto her hair.

Jesus she's beautiful.

"Scully?"

She turns to look up at me. "Mulder?" she teases.

Now or never, Mulder, I tell myself. The fact that we
are still holding hands is a good sign; it might even be 
a longevity record. While we're both conscious, anyway.
"How about buying me that drink you owe me?"

She's looking straight ahead now, but I can see her
trying to stop a grin from breaking out across her face.
She knows exactly what I mean with that question.

"I have a better idea, Mulder," she says, raising her 
face again. "How about we go back to my apartment and
open a bottle of wine?"

I know an offer I can't refuse when I hear it.

**************************************

Sitting diagonally across from each other at her dining
room table, Scully and I eat takeout Indian food and
share a bottle of white wine. The wine came from her
secret stash in a kitchen cabinet;  I'm no gourmet but it
sure tastes perfect to me. While I drink she leans on the
table to dig her fork into my tandoori chicken. I swat her
hand away but she's too fast for me.

"Remind me why we bothered with separate plates?" I ask. 
Scully is so tiny, but her appetite is bigger than she is. 
I've never figured out what she does with all that food.

"Watch it, G-Man." She attacks my plate again.

I take another sip of wine and let it slide over my tongue.
Scully has changed into my favorite pair of Scully jeans,
the ones that outline her ass just right, and a little white
t-shirt. Her feet are bare. I'm wearing black jeans and a
black t-shirt that I found in the trunk of my car. I don't
know how clean they are but they smelled okay when I
put them on.

There's something I don't recognize on the CD player, but 
I like it, whatever it is. It's soft and sort of jazzy,
with a deep female voice. Scully notices the tilt of my
head and knows I'm listening to her music. "Mulder,"
she says, pinning me down with her eyes, "what is
your favorite CD of all time?"

"Where'd that come from, Scully?"

"Nowhere."

"Celine Dion. The one with that Titanic song on it."

My quip is not even rewarded with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah right," she says. "Seriously, Mulder."

"Seriously? Pink Floyd. Dark Side of the Moon."

She snorts. "Figures."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

She shrugs and sips her wine. God she's beautiful. Even
with her face a spider web of burst blood vessels, like 
it is now.

"And yours?" I ask, brushing away a fantasy of eating
dinner every night in her apartment. In the fantasy we
always have time to talk about nonsense like this.

"I have no idea," she says. "Too many to choose from."

"No fair, Scully."

"Who ever told you life was fair, Mulder?"

"Oh, no. Don't you dare start sounding like my mother."

She looks down at her plate and takes a slow bite of rice.
Scully doesn't like my mother very much. She'd never tell 
me, but I know. Ever my defender, my Scully, and she's 
convinced that my mother is heartless and uncaring. In 
a way, she's right. But I let it go. It's the last thing 
I want to talk about tonight.

"How's your mother, Scully?" Mrs. Scully has been
calling me or stopping by every day since I got out of 
the hospital after the Antarctic expedition. She's even
cooked for me. "She didn't check up on me today."

"Probably because you spent most of the day on the Mall
eyeing women in spandex."

What I really did for most of the day was rehearse all 
the reasons Scully had to leave the FBI...when I wasn't
remembering that very brief instant when our lips had
touched.

What I say is, "You jealous, Scully?"

"In your dreams, Mulder. Anyway, Mom's fine. I talked
to her this morning before the hearing. Today was her
volunteer day at the VA hospital." She tears the last
piece of bread in half so we can share it.

"You mean she hasn't called to see how the hearing
went?"

"I left a message on her machine while you were
changing."

It's a simple enough statement, but Scully looks like 
a kindergartner who's gotten away with a whole bag of
Oreos.

I don't have that psychology degree for nothing. "You
told her I was here, didn't you? Just so she wouldn't 
call you tonight."

"I may have mentioned it." She looks up at me over the
rim of her glass as she swallows the last drops of wine.

I lean forward until my face is inches from hers. "You're
just using me as an alibi. You probably have some big
blond guy named Sven waiting for you outside and you
don't want your mother to know."

"Yes, and Sven doesn't like to be kept waiting." Her
eyes glimmer in the soft light as she smiles. Then she
stands, tosses her napkin on the table and starts to 
stack the plates.

"No," I tell her. "I'll get them." I head for the kitchen
with my hands full. "Want anything else?" I call out
behind me.

"No thanks." I can hear her moving across the room as I
put the dishes in the sink and run some water on them.
When I follow her, I find her on the floor, leaning
against the couch, her legs stretched out toward the
empty fireplace. She pours us both more wine before
putting the bottle on the coffee table. I sit cross-
legged against the chair and accept the glass she hands 
me. One of my knees is nearly touching one of hers.

We smile and clink our glasses together in a silent toast.
Scully sighs contentedly, which only reminds me of how
fragile she is. I have seen her take down men twice her
size, and I know full well that she has saved my sorry
ass a thousand times. I still can't help thinking of how
easily she could be snapped in two. But this is too good
to ruin with the usual Mulder despondency. I focus
instead on the faint smile lingering on her face and the
way she pushes her hair behind her ear with one hand.

"This is nice," I tell her, raising my glass to my lips.

"Mmmm," she says, with a sly glance at me. "No bees."

I choke on that, managing to inhale my wine. Then I
start to cough and have to lean forward with my fist over
my mouth. I hand her my glass and she scoots across the
floor to kneel by my side. She's laughing too, but she
rubs my back and asks, "Mulder, are you okay?"

"Yeah" -- cough -- "I just" -- cough -- "tried to inhale" 
-- cough -- "my wine." Scully hands me a tissue from the
box on the end table, but her laugh only makes me laugh
-- and cough -- harder.

When we've settled down a bit she says, still chuckling,
"I'll get you some water," and starts to stand.

I grab her hand and hold it. "No. It's okay. I'm fine
now." Cough. With my free hand I gesture to her to
give me my wine glass again.

She waits until I've swallowed to speak. "I guess I need
to work on my timing," she says. Which only produces
another round of laughter, but this time I can breathe.

Our laughs quickly soften to intimate smiles and our eyes
seem fused together. I'll drown in hers but I don't care.
Let me drown.

I think of the taste of wine on her mouth and shiver.
Then I raise our still-entwined hands and kiss her
fingers, without releasing her eyes from mine. Her
tongue darts out to wet her lips and she breathes in
deeply. I cradle her head in my palm, auburn silk 
under my skin.

Oh God, Scully, I tell her silently. I want you so much.
Do you have any idea how much I want you?

There's less hesitation this time as we lean toward each
other, and before I completely know what's happening
her lips brush against mine. Then again. Her hands rest
on my shoulders. She lifts her head to approach from
another angle, and I inhale as much of her as I can. I
trace the outline of her mouth with my tongue, begging
her to let me in. She laughs as she complies. Our
tongues swirl slowly around each other in greeting
before moving on to explore other territory. Her mouth
is velvet-soft and tastes like curry and frozen grapes.
Jesus.

Please, God, I pray with the part of my brain that is
still functional, No interruptions this time, okay?

Scully is the one to break the kiss, leaning back with a
soft moan as her eyes drift open. We both grin like idiots
as we share this moment we've been avoiding for years.
I want to memorize the look in her eyes, the way her
breasts gently rise and fall as she breathes, the spicy-
sweet Scully taste on my tongue. But I don't get much of
a chance to catalogue the information being fed to me by
my senses, because in silent agreement we start all over.

This kiss is hungrier, Scully's tongue hard and insistent
against the bottom of mine. I try to pull her even closer.
But that makes it hard to breathe, so I cover her jaw with
feather-light kisses instead. Scully obliges, rolling her
head back to give me access to her neck. I trace a line
down and then back up, finishing by kissing the burns
on her face. Then I pull her into my arms and tuck her
head under my chin. She shifts a little on the floor so
she can wrap her arms around my shoulders.

Scully makes a happy sound in her throat. I respond by
rubbing her back and burying my nose in her hair, which
smells of roses and ginger. Her fingers weave into my
hair. Her breath is warm through my shirt.

I close my eyes and run my thumb across the back of
her neck.

The CD player changes and another CD starts.

Then another.

"Mulder," Scully says finally. Her voice is soft and a
little sleepy, muffled against my shoulder.

"Yeah, Scully?"

She sits up straight, pulling her warmth away, and looks
me in the eye. Her hand is still tangled in my hair.
"Would you stay over tonight?"

I feel a wiseass comment coming on. I can't help myself.
"Oooh, Scully. I didn't peg you as the first-date type."

One eyebrow arches up and she gives me a patented
Scully look that she then has trouble maintaining. She
bows her head to hide her smile. I try to put her hair
back into place; it's been crushed by leaning against 
me. And come to think of it, my back is sort of stiff 
too. But who cares about a stiff back when the woman 
of your dreams, the woman you thought you'd never have 
and never have the guts to try for, has spent the 
evening in your arms?

"I just want to be with you tonight, Mulder," she says
when her eyes meet mine again.

The trust implicit in her offer is enough to make me melt
into the carpet. I kiss her again, softly, lazily. Anything,
anything she wants is fine by me. Yes, I want her. Yes,
my jeans feel like they might rip at the seams. But God
knows there's not much reason to rush after five years,
and I can see the promise of more to come in her eyes.

I imagine a sleeping Scully next to me. I remember her
soft cotton sheets, which I have slept in once, alone.
That morning I woke up smelling Scully all around me,
on the edge of an unbearably real dream. But I won't 
let myself think of the hateful words I said to her 
on the telephone minutes after that.

"Whatever you want, Scully," I whisper against her lips.

In bed we share one last mint-flavored kiss before she
curls up against me and is instantly asleep. I follow 
soon after, holding her tightly as I glide into a dream. 
Me, Fox Insomniac Mulder.

In Scully's bed I've finally found my peace.

********************************************

**end 1/1**

this story is a little too high on my own sap meter, so I
hope nobody's gone into sugar shock. :) I tried to steer
moose and squirrel in a different direction, but they're
uppity.

thanks for reading. hope you liked it. 

==
Lilla  
lillav@yahoo.com
When you live in the shadow of insanity, the appearance
of another mind that thinks and talks as yours does is
something close to a blessed event.  -R. Pirsig

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