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Heartwood
ONE Dark eyes observed her intently from across the crowded gallery, zeroing in on her to the exclusion of all else. It was the brightness of her flaming hair that had first attracted the dark gaze, announcing her presence like a beacon. The tall woman leant on the rail of the glass balcony and watched, the intensity in her gaze almost tangible, and the corners of her mouth twitched into a half smile as she felt the blood begin to race through her veins. 'Yes' purred the voice in her head, 'this is the one.'
Scully's gaze was almost as focussed as her observer's as it fell upon the object before her. She didn't know how long she had been standing there trapped in its spell, but she felt no inclination to escape. She stood before the tall column of wood, a single tree trunk, exploring its deceptively simple intricacies with her stroking gaze. The lower third was a simple tree trunk still, in its natural state, untouched and raw, its rough bark still bearing patches of moss and earth. But as the eye travelled up, something else was revealed as the layers were stripped away. Ring by ring the years and centuries had been peeled back until, in the top third, the truth that lay at its heart was finally freed from its long imprisonment. Fresh heartwood gleamed like a sapling, remembering the last time it had felt the sun upon it all those centuries ago. But it was not smoothed to an unatural shine as so many carvings were, rather it proudly displayed the chisel marks that had set it free. 'This is what the artist found in me', it seemed to say, 'think what she could find in you'. Some long forgotten pain stirred deep down inside her, taking her breath away, but the liberated heartwood danced for joy as it whispered 'Look at me, Dana.'
She turned slowly to find a tall figure at her side, a woman with intense, dark eyes that
seemed to see into her soul. The strong, chiselled features of her olive-skinned face were
framed with glossy black hair that fell around her shoulders. She was dressed all in black too:
slim trousers with patent boots beneath, a collarless silk shirt beneath a 'Nerhu' jacket with
gleaming ebony buttons. The only colour was provided by the occasional flash of the blood-red silk
lining of her jacket. She smiled down at the mesmerised woman and said in a deep, lilting voice
laced with the honey of an Eastern European accent "you have been standing here a long time.
You like this piece, yes?" The spell that had kept her here eased its grip a little, enough to
allow her speach, and she nodded "yes, very much."
A voice from behind them attracted the woman's reluctant attention, but Dana was not distracted. She felt the truth of the woman's words. She had spent so long protecting herself from the unexplained, building around herself walls of comforting scientific reason and logic that seemed unbreechable, only to find after all that what she really wanted was the instinctive knowledge, the unshakeable faith that Mulder had. As much as he needed to believe, she had needed not to because she was afraid of her real, aching need for an explanation that took no heed of science. She had been sent to discredit him but he had inadvertantly deiscredited her, at least in her own eyes, and her scientific sanctuary had become her prison. And then, of course, there was her Christian faith? Wasn't that a kind of protection too? An insurance against death and evil and hopelessness, ultimately an insurance against the Truth? The Truth shall set you free...as free as a sapling. That whisper came again her ear, (or was it in her heart?) 'Look at me, Dana', and she turned
to find the tall, dark woman burning that dark gaze into her soul once more. "Are you alright?"
the woman was asking her, "you are very pale."
* * * * * * They entered the coffee bar from an unusaully quiet street. Even at this time of night
Washington was usually fairly busy, but tonight it was strangely, eeriely quiet. They sat on a
leather sofa at the back of the dimly lit room and drank their coffee in amiable silence.
"Better?" asked the woman eventually as Dana began to relax.
Someone passed the table and, catching sight of the woman, exclaimed "Daša! Hey, where've
you been?"
Scully smiled and felt herself blushing without knowing why. She had known from the start that
she was incredibly attracted to this woman, but it was hardly the first time she had been attracted
to a woman, or to a stranger, there was something else that she couldn't quite..... Suddenly an
amazing heat surged from an unidentifiable point inside her chest and seared down to ignite in
her loins. She gasped at the impact, clutching her coffee cup tighter and tensing in on herself.
Daša was all concern. "You are ill!" she said, her tone exuding worry as she moved closer and
reached out for the trembling woman.
So, she did talk about it. She sat in a strange bar, in a strange part of town and poured heart out to a complete stranger, revealing things she herself had not even realised until she heard them spoken in her own voice. When she was finished she felt calm and relaxed, gradually realising without alarm or embrassment of any kind, that she was leaning against her companion and there was a warm, silk-clad arm around her shoulders, just as it should be. After a few moments of silence she looked up into the dark eyes and smiled. "Well!" she murmurred, "I'm not sure where all that came from but thank you for listening." The dark head nodded gently, sending soft waves down the lenth of the hair. "You feel better," Daša said, a statement not a question. They ordered more coffee and settled back. "This Mulder," asked the tall woman, "Are you in love
with him?" Dana thought about it for a few seconds, but the answer was clear to her now, although
it made her feel a little sad. "No," she sighed, a tinge of grief in her voice, "I think I was,
for a long time, but now? It's gone beyond that somehow, so much has changed. I'll always love him
deeply, but not as a lover would. I think.....I think I'm free of that now, though I seem to
feel a little sad about that."
* * * * * * "Tell me about yourself," Scully requested, "I only know what I've read."
'When we know eachother better', the words echoed in Dana's mind reminding her
with some surprise that she had only met this woman a few hours ago. It felt so familiar to be
with her like this, so right, it was the kind of feeling that could almost make the scientist
believe in soulmates, or reincarnation, or fate......almost. As if she had been reading Scully's
mind, Daša said "yes, this is very comfortable. I know we have only met tonight, but I think we
have a connection....you feel it too, don't you?" Unable to speak, Dana merely nodded. "I can do
new work anywhere if I can find a studio. I would like to stay here for a while and see more of
you.....if you would like."
Daša smiled down at the woman now firmly ensconced in her arms, eyes sparkling with joy, and
asked "are you sure....I don't want you to..."
TWO Mulder walked into the basement office with a puzzled look on his face, which only increased when he saw his partner sitting at her desk, staring into emptiness. He had been calling her from outside in the corridor for the last five minutes but had recieved no answer. "Scully?" he asked again and waited in vain. "Earth to Scully! Come in Dr. Scully!" There was not a flicker of response from his seemingly frozen partner until he actually snapped his fingers in her face. "Mulder!" she gasped "Hi.....sorry."
Fox sat back with a hint of actual amazement on his face. Images of Scully entwined with
another woman, thrashing in ecstacy, igniting in his brain. "Huh!" he huffed, swallowing hard,
"that is intriguing!"
"It's not what you're thinking, Mulder.....at least not yet. Nothing happened really....we
talked for hours. Well, actually, I did most of the talking.....she was a very good listner."
She remembered the electric touch of Daša's lips and smiled to herslf. "We did kiss, but it
didn't go any further. That kiss was enough....to get me...sooo..." Suddenly Scully realised that
she wasn't actually alone, talking to herself, and she cleared her throat before changing her
tone to a less dreamy one. "Her gender wasn't an issue at all. It wasn't that that made
her intriguing....it was something....something else...I can't quite explain."
After a few seconds of utter stillness, Mulder closed his mouth, shifted a little, cleared his
throat and, grabbing a file from the desk to cover his crotch, tried valliantly to push the
images from his brain. Taking deep breaths and willing his body to calm down, glad that his
partner had withdrawn into dreamland and was consequently not likely to notice his predicament,
he waited until he had got his hormones under control and then said "uh....Scully? We have to go and
see Skinner."
* * * * * * ADA Walter Skinner was not having a good day. Everything seemed to have gone wrong, from a breakfast argument with his wife to an FBI Internal Investigation crisis. What he really didn't need right now was to spill a mug full of coffee all over the file he was about to discuss with Mulder and Scully. "Shit!" he yelled as the coffee soaked into the manila folder and he sprang backwards to avoid the hot liquid falling in his lap, knocking over his chair in the process. When the whole mess had been sorted out and he could finally settle down to discussing the weird case with his agents, the first three pages in the file had been saturated beyond legibility and all that was left unaffected were the pathology photos of the murder victim. A woman in her early forties, white, medium height, stikingly beautiful....unaturally pale,
Scully noted, even
for a corpse, but with no obvious sign of injury. That's all they had until a duplicate file
arrived. "What's this all about, sir?" asked Scully, determinedly barring her mind to the distracting
images of dark eyes and black silk.
* * * * * * The body had been found in a pile of rubbish in an alley, but it was not clear whether that was the scene of the crime, if indeed any crime had been comitted. There was no evidence of a struggle, the bags of rubbish still piled 'neatly' against the wall, awaiting collection. As Scully read the autopsy report, noting that although dramatic blood loss was the cause of death there was not a mark on the body (other than a few very old, minor scars), Mulder talked to the young man who had discovered the body, a student at the nearby university. The boy was clearly nervous, only to be expected in the circumstances, and he shifted from one foot to the other as he gave his account, as if he were trying to keep warm. "First I thought she was asleep, or passed out drunk," he said slowly, "but then I noticed her
clothes. I mean, the woman was wearing a suit that must've cost more than I spend in a whole year -
not the type to sleep in a pile of trash, y'know? So I fugured she was ill or something and I
checked her out."
Joining Scully back at the car he reported the boy's unhelpful evidence to his partner and
asked about the autopsy. "It doesn't make sense, Mulder" she informed him, "she lost more than
four pints of blood but there was no sign of injury, either internal or external. She had
no disorders.....nothing at all to explain any blood loss, let
alone on this scale...not even a pinprick." Mulder opened his mouth to speak but, without removing
her eyes from the report, she said "and borfore you ask......no, there were no bite marks on
her neck."
Scully was about to suggest an explanation when the words were suddenly gone from her mind and replaced with 'look at me, Dana'. She turned to peer out of the window and for a split second saw a tall, dark figure standing across the street. A second later, when she found herself with an inane smile on her face, staring at a blank wall, she knew she had imagined it. THREE
They had arranged their date for 9 p.m. but Dana arrived at the restaurant at 8.30. For fear of being late, she had left her Georgetown appartment far too early and now she sat at the bar, sipping at an orange juice and trying not to look and feel expectant. She had never been this eager to please in her life, and yet part of her felt calmer than she ever had, as if she were about to meet her flat mate or her best friend for a quick drink before shopping. Gradually a strangely familiar sense of being gently caressed came over her and she looked around, seeking the source of the sensations. Standing in the doorway, gazing at her intently, was the tall, dark artist she had come here to meet and, after a moment of utter stillness, in which she hardly dared to breathe, the woman glided slowly towards her. "Good evening" said the deep, throaty voice, dragging its velvet texture slowly over Scully's soul, as Daša took her hand and brought it slowly to her lips. The dark eyes never left Scully's as the blood-red lips placed a soft but sensuously lingering kiss on the back of her pale hand. Just that simple touch was so erotic to the redhead that she found herself breathless and speechless, suspended in the endless depths of Daša's smouldering eyes. She tried to breathe as she felt herself becoming wet with anticipation and felt ridiculous that she was unable to reply, but Daša seemed unpeturbed and merely smiled seductively, saying "you look so beautiful, Dana" and pulled gently on her hand to bring her to her feet. Without another word, she lead Scully by the hand toward the table that the waitress had indicated, pulling the seat out for her to sit in. When the still wordless agent was seated she moved to her own chair and sat, taking the winelist from the waiter with a "Merci, Pierre." "Are you alright, Dana?" asked the dark woman when the waiter had gone, "you're very quiet."
* * * * * * "I know what you need, Dana" came the seductive voice, as they sipped at their coffee after
another conversational marathon.
"You said before that you trust me" the younger woman said, a slight question implicit in her
tone.
* * * * * * So it was that, almost without a second thought, Dana Scully found herself naked and willingly bound to a large wooden bed. As soon as they had entered the small apartment adjoining the large studio Daša had rented, the artist had turned to her and begun to undress her. There was no ceremony, no offer of a drink or a dance, this woman didn't need those traditional seduction techniques to ease her partner into lovemaking, her very presence was seductive enough and Scully had been more than ready since she had first laid eyes on her dark companion. Daša had slowly, lingeringly relieved Dana of her clothes, dropping the items one by one onto
the large sofa beside which they were standing. The artist's hot breath and soft kisses
caressing her neck made Dana shiver slightly as she held on to Daša for support, her own breath
comming in quiet gasps and moans of pleasure. By the time Daša's lips moved to cover her own,
she was completely naked and shaking with supressed desire and need. Already she could barely
stand but when the kiss became hotter and more insistent she felt all the strength drain out of
her and her knees buckled. Daša caught her and swept her up into her arms, holding her
gently as she whispered "it's alright, Dana, I've got you."
Daša had carried her prey to the bed and lowered her gently down. From nowhere, the restraints
appeared and were strapped around her wrists and ankles so that she was spreadeagled on the large
bed. She felt completly exposed and vulnerable, and yet the feeling was not unpleasant, in fact
it was somewhat soothing. Her breathing laboured, her body quivering with anticipation, Scully
watched as other woman removed her jacket and hung it carefully on the back of a chair. She stood,
gazing down at her willing victim with unmasked appreciation, her eyes raking over the prone
body so that Scully could feel their touch as if it was the caress of fingers on her sensitive
skin. She shuddered at the touch and arched her back slightly. "Dana" came the deep, whispered
voice, "you are so beautiful. Even more so than I imagined." The artist sat on the edge of the
bed and placed her hand lightly on Dana'a stomach, causing the breath to catch in her throat.
"How do you feel?"
Standing in a position where Dana could see her without having to strain, Daša very slowly began to unbutton her shirt, her fingers caressing her skin as they descended. She never took her eyes from Dana's fascinated face as she stripped slowly, deliberately, revealing her perfect skin very gradually. By the time she stood in all her naked glory, towering over the panting agent, she was clearly as aroused as Dana. She lay down next to Scully, stretching herself out like a panther - beautiful, elegant, powerful, dangerous. The artist laid her hand very lightly on Dana's thigh, eliciting a slight catch in the redhead's breathing, and trailed slowly upwards. As she reached Dana's right breast, and began to tease the stiff nipple between her fingers, her lips leaned down to suck at the the left nipple and draw it into a warm mouth. "Aaahhh!" sighed Dana, her back lifting a little off the bed as Daša's attentions grew in intensity. The young woman made love to her thoroughly, tenderly, leaving no part of her body untouched or unexplored, except the very place where Dana needed most to feel her. "Please.....p..please!" Scully gasped as rays of pleasure surged through her and she tried to bring her knees together. Daša abandoned the midriff she had been kissing and nibbling on and moved up to kiss her lover's lips teasingly, whispering "tell me what you want, Dana," as her lips moved to nuzzle the woman's neck.
The young woman's touch on her sex was like a searing fire, making Dana shudder violently. The tension in her grew and grew as the artist used her talented fingers and tongue to tease her into distraction. Scully was in another world, a world of pure sensation, into which drifted the thoaty voice of her beautiful lover, 'look at me, Dana', and she opened her eyes to be caught in the smokey, black, mesmeric, burning gaze of the woman that was transporting her. Something in the eyes was different, not just the evident, intense arousal and desire. She could not look away, her gaze was trapped by the penetrating stare that seemed to burn into her soul and she saw something behind those eyes that she could never categorise or reference; something terrifying yet utterly seductive. As Dana's orgasm approached, the artist slowly lowered her head and, at the moment that Scully arched off the bed and finally exploded, her limbs straining against their restraints, an incredibly sharp pain flared through her chest, stopping her scream of release. Her eyes went wide as Daša's teeth sank into her pale flesh and almost immediately she felt a heaviness creeping over her as the anaestheic venom flowed into her blood. Yet, despite her sedation, this penetration too brought with it another mighty orgasm, a series of them racked her jerking body as the vampire drank her fill straight from Dana Scully's racing heart. And Dana Scully gave without reservation, thrilled to the sudden, wonderful revelation of what that strange look in Daša's eyes had meant, smiled and laughed with joy at the knowledge that she was giving this woman sustenance and recieving such exquisite pleasure in return. As she lapsed into unconsciousness she felt more satisfied and fulfilled than she ever had in her life. * * * * * * She drifted through so many wondrous realms that night that waking up was a disappointment until she realised that it meant she could touch her lover again. So much was revealed to her with that vampire's kiss, so much truth and love. The visions still played in her head as she floated out of bed and pulled on the robe that lay over that back of a nearby chair, visions so clear she might have been watching them on TV. Visions of Daša's unwilling and unwitting transformation, of her thousand year existance, of her fight to survive, of her pain; visions of her own life, her own pain and where it had always been leading her; visions of the paradise she was destined to find with this woman. Her hand drifted up to caress the place, over her heart, where Daša had pierced her and, feeling nothing there, she looked down in awe. There was not a mark on her. She found her lover in the studio, chipping at a block of wood and beginning to reveal the delicate flower that lived inside it. The woman turned as she moved up and melted into waiting arms. They held eachother for an eternity before Dana felt tears dripping on her head and reached up to pull Daša's head down to her shoulder, cradling her tenderly. "Ssshh, my love," she soothed as she stroked the thick black hair, "it's alright.....I love you."
Dana held her again, soothing the woman, trying to kiss and stroke away the terrible guilt that was never far from her. She was so different this morning, vulnerable like a child, unsure and searching. "Are you feeling alright?" the artist asked after a while, "I didn't take much but....."
Daša turned in her arms and leant down to give her a tender kiss. "You should go, Dana," she said, "go far away from me and forget I exist."
When they were both once more naked on the bed, exploring eachother with lips and fingers, Dana reached up to the bedhead and pulled out the restraints that were still attatched to it. She eased Daša's arms up and, without a word, secured her wrists and then moved down to fasten the anklecuffs. She lay on top of her lover and looked down seriously into her smouldering eyes. "Look at me, Daša," she ordered gently, and when the woman opened her eyes she asked softly "do you trust me?"
* * * The End * * * SW
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