From: "Susanne Barringer" 
Date: Fri, 25 Sep 1998 20:09:05 -0400
Subject: Voices in the Mind (1/1) by S. Barringer **NC-17**


TITLE:  Voices in the Mind (1/1)
AUTHOR:  Susanne Barringer
EMAIL:  sbarringer@usa.net
ARCHIVE:  Already sent to Gossamer.  Anywhere else 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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