NEW: "Sinking Ships" by Beduini (1/1) MSR
Beduini
Rating: PG-13 for language and medical terminology of a sexual
nature. If you don't know what it means you probably shouldn't
be reading this.
Category: V, A, R - MSR
Keywords: Scully POV
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I'll put
them back in their suitcase when I'm done with them.
Summary: After seeing Mulder with the Fowl one Scully spends
some time on the emotional roller-coaster.
Spoilers: "The End" and "The Beginning" - general ones for
Season Six, "Out of Africa" and a dash of "Sense and
Sensibility."
Archive: ATXC yes, Gossamer, yes. All others please ask first
- I like to know where my children are!
Acknowlegments: Thanks to Marty for helping me find Scully's
voice, the beta read, comments and suggestions. You go girl!
xxxxxxxxxxxx
"Mulder." Jesus, it's dark.
"Mul-der!"
"I'm right here, Scully. I heard you the first time." Mulder
sounded annoyed. "I can't see two feet in front of my face it's
so dark. Here, hold on to my hand. I've already lost my
flashlight, I don't want to lose you down here as well."
"I'm perfectly capable of finding my own way in the dark,
Mulder." Of course, I bumped right into his backside.
We were investigating the disappearance of the entire crew of
'The Lady of Fate,' a tugboat that had run up on a reef just off
the coast of South Carolina. I had convinced the Harbor Master
to escort Mulder and I to the unstable vessel with a little
coaxing and a good seaman's yarn of my father's from one of his
earlier tours of duty. He was a mildly attractive man in his
late thirties with a soft-spoken, pleasant manner. I may have
gone overboard a bit in my feeble attempt at charm but it seemed
to do the trick, bringing out a surly streak in Mulder along
with it.
We had blindly moved ahead a few steps in the darkness, Mulder
clutching my hand tightly when suddenly the boat shifted and the
floor moved beneath us. I landed on my rear-end and Mulder
wound up on his knees in front of me, the motion causing the
overhead light to flicker on dimly. Mulder stood, made some
remark about my innate ability to bring him to his knees and
extended a hand to help me to my feet when we were again jolted
by another shift of the hull upon the unstable reef. I found
myself back on the floor, flat on my back with Mulder laying
over me, his weight resting on his elbows on either side of my
head and his pelvis pressed against mine.
This was not the first time Mulder and I had come in close
contact with one another but it was the first time we had ever
been in such an intimate position and it caught us both off
guard. Mulder looked surprised - not half as surprised as I'm
sure I looked. His eyes appeared black and glassy in the
partial light and his breathing was shallow - before either of
us had fully comprehended the ramifications of the situation his
hips gave a small involuntary thrust that caused a soft gasp to
escape my mouth. Mulder's eyes sparked and without thinking I
responded with a reciprocal light thrust of my hips that
produced a similar gasp out of him. We stared at each other for
an intensely long moment and I could feel his short warm breaths
as Mulder's lips hovered above mine-
"Agent Scully!"
I shoved Mulder back by the shoulders as hard as I could and had
barely risen to my feet when the Harbor Master appeared down the
ladder, a faint circle of light preceding him as he descended.
He insisted that we leave the 'Lady' immediately and I was up
the ladder faster than Mulder can say
'extraterrestrialbiologicalentity.' Needless to say neither
Mulder nor I discussed what happened for the duration of our day
together. I should have remembered before I set foot on that
boat that Mulder and I have terrible luck when it comes to
floating vessels. Not a happy thought for the daughter of a
Naval Captain.
It was not fear of intimacy with Mulder that drove me up that
ladder, but rather the suddenness of it. I have always felt
deep down that Mulder and I would spend the rest of our lives
together. At some point during our six-year partnership I
realized that I couldn't imagine my life without him in it.
We've been growing closer in the past year and at times it seems
as if we've been hovering on the brink of a more intimate
relationship - or so I thought until last night.
Human sexuality is manifested and expressed in a multitude of
seemingly infinite forms. Mulder's preference is pornography -
visual pornography, to be exact. Although I've teased him about
in on occasion I've always thought it an innocuous, if not
healthy way to express his human needs. Much healthier than
short-lived relationships, one-night stands and prostitutes. I
could complain about the objectification of the woman's body but
in Mulder's case I know he has the proper respect for women - in
the workplace or otherwise. He's been hurt more than once and
his experience with women on a sexual level has been
sporadic...nearly non-existent, and surprising for such an
attractive man as Mulder. Imagine my surprise when Diana Fowley
appeared, lending support to Mulder's assertions that the Gibson
Praise case was directly related to the X-Files. An all-too
real and constant reminder of his pre-Dana Scully days at the
FBI when he didn't need pornography to express his sexuality.
He doesn't know I know that, of course.
But I've strayed from my narrative - I had said goodnight to
Mulder, wishing him a good weekend and knowing that I'd hear
from him half a dozen times before Monday. I was almost to my
car when I realized that I'd left the autopsy report on the
Cahill case we'd just been assigned on my desk. I wanted to
look it over in detail over the weekend so I turned around and
went back to my desk, surprised to find Mulder had packed up for
the evening and had already left the office. I stuffed the
report in my briefcase, picked up a few of Mulder's stray
pencils that had landed on my desk and headed back out to my
car. When I reached the parking garage I was taken aback at the
sight of my partner leaning over the open passenger-side door of
his sedan locking lips with none other than Diana Fowley.
Although it seemed a chaste kiss, it was just a little too long
to really be considered chaste. He smiled at her as she sat
down in the seat, shutting the door for her and crossing behind
the car to get into the driver's seat. I stepped back into a
shadow as they passed by, laughing together. My stomach felt
like it would be taking up permanent residence at my feet.
After numbly driving home (in the rain - how is that for
symbolism?) I was too tired to eat so I sat down in front of the
television, settling on "Out of Africa." I'd forgotten just
how sad this story is. An independent woman in love with an
independent man, never really managing to find a lasting
happiness together. I watched it despite my better judgement
and found myself choking back unwanted tears. The similarities
to my own life seemed much too great to ignore.
I spent half an hour this morning with tea bags and a cold wash
cloth over my eyes. I'd heard that cucumber slices are
effective at reducing puffy eyes, so I tried that, too. If I'd
known I'd spend the morning administering to my puffy face I'd
have booked some time at the Golden Door Spa instead, for a real
treat. I decided to reinvest myself in a fitness regimen and I
certainly didn't want to show up at the health club looking like
my eyes had been stung by bees. I must not have looked too bad
because a lobbyist from Georgetown and an investment banker from
Alexandria both gave me their business cards with their home
numbers written on the back suggesting we meet for drinks one
night after work. I haven't been involved in the dating scene
for a few years but I'm still not too old to go out and have a
good time.
I had a cucumber salad for lunch.
I debated with myself over running out to the mall and
purchasing a few new outfits and tried to decide who I would
call first - the lobbyist or the banker. How long is an
acceptable amount of time to wait before calling? Should I call
this afternoon or wait until Monday? I decided that Monday
would probably be more appropriate, preferably some time when
Mulder is within hearing range.
It has been much too long since I've been on a date. Even
longer since I've had sexual intercourse or anything close to
it. I haven't thought about sex in anything but the abstract
form for years. Regardless of my shock and disappointment over
Mulder's turning to his ex-girlfriend for a little on the side I
do not think of Mulder in that way. I do not lie in bed at
night longing for his touch or dreaming about his lips. I do
not imagine the ramifications of his oral fixation as it applies
to cunnilingus and I certainly don't ponder the possibilities of
size as it relates to hands, feet and nose. I don't. He is my
partner and I cannot afford such thoughts. Not if I'm going to
continue working beside him every day. And our working
relationship is more important than anything - I certainly don't
want to lose what we've worked so hard to build over the last
six years.
Work is what brought me back to the Cahill autopsy. I dug the
report out of my briefcase and started reading, losing myself in
the facts and details that comprise the pieces of the whole
puzzle. I've always enjoyed the challenge of discovery as it
relates to the human body. What causes it to stop functioning,
the vital organs shutting down until all of its life is drained?
My own empty stomach and straining neck muscles brought me out
of my head several hours later. Outside it was already dark and
the apartment was eerily quiet. I used to find the quiet serene
and peaceful but in the last few years I've found it unsettling.
I turned on the stereo and wandered into the kitchen in search
of a late dinner. I felt strange. Unsettled. I had come to
terms with Mulder's latest folly and dealt with it accordingly.
So what was wrong with me?
Mulder hadn't called once. Last night he was with Diana, but
what about today? Is he still with Diana? Maybe there is much
more to this tryst than I thought. Spending an evening with
someone can be enjoyable. Spending the night often times the
more convenient thing to do. But spending the next day? That
implies the events of the night before were worth continuing.
That implies a commitment or the intent to commit. That thought
was bothering me a great deal and suddenly I wasn't hungry
anymore. I grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay and sat down at my
laptop, turning up the Tori Amos on my way past the stereo.
I spent an hour and a half tonight drafting two different
versions of my resignation letter. If Mulder wants his precious
Agent Fowley then fine, he can have her. He can have her for a
partner as well - I recognize the signals when I'm no longer
needed. 'You kept me honest, Scully, you made me a whole
person.' What a load of crap. One little 'you're right, Fox'
and the bat of an eyelash and he's at her mercy. I suppose that
heart-wrenching confession in his hallway and that aborted kiss
leading up to my...shall we say, incapacitation was all just an
attempt to appeal to my innermost sense of loyalty, guilt and
loneliness. To get me to stay with him until Diana came to her
senses and returned to him. The man is blind. Well, if that's
what he wants, then by all means, enjoy yourself, Mulder. Let
him waste those perfectly good lips on her wrinkled old
shriveled ones. He'll be sorry one day when good old Scully
isn't around to pick up the pieces or review a suspicious
autopsy report. I'll just finish the last bit of the bottle of
Chardonnay I found after the other bottle was finished. I've
deleted both of the letters I wrote earlier and now have begun
the third.
The sun was streaming in through the window, hurting my eyes as
I blinked to open them. My head felt foggy and my neck and back
complained sharply as I sat up at my desk. Shit. The battery
on my laptop died some time in the middle of the night and I
lost everything I had been working on. It probably wasn't worth
saving anyway, judging by the throbbing in my head. The vague
recollection of 'Dear Cocksucker' floats through my muddled
brain and I groan for the pain and the embarrassment to my
innate Scully sensibility. I have hit an all-time low, drinking
myself silly with cheap Chardonnay over what?
A man.
A friend.
Someone who has proven his trust and his friendship time and
again. Someone who I have put my trust and friendship in just
as frequently. I would do it again without a second thought if
he needed me to.
Maybe that is the problem. Instead of showing my support,
letting him know how much he means to me, I've pushed him away
with my cold professionalism and rigidity. I mistakenly thought
that what he needed most from me was my logic and stability,
firm in the belief that science would provide the answers to the
questions we were asking. I should have been more supportive,
more understanding, more giving. I used to be warm and
trusting, a fun-loving woman and an enthusiastic lover. When
did I stop smiling? Laughing at a good joke? When did I stop
participating in the simple things in life like dancing and
going to a movie? What happened to all of my friends? When did
I stop being a real friend in deference to being 'Scully?'
Who is 'Scully,' anyway?
Scully is Mulder's partner.
Scully is a scientist and a forensic pathologist.
She's an FBI agent and a friend.
She is Mulder's friend.
She is Mulder's.
Diana or no Diana, she is Mulder's.
The realization of this hit me with a sudden ferocity. In the
back of my mind I had reserved a place for the future, for the
chance to have a life, a husband, a family, a home, maybe even a
dog. I thought that there would be time for all of those things
once I was able to find a few of the answers that I sought.
Somewhere in the fabric of that future the idea that Mulder
would be a part of that life had become firmly woven into the
composition, almost unknowingly.
Mulder. What a life he's lived. Losing a sister to suspicious
circumstances as a child, emotionally abandoned by his parents.
Manipulated and abused by the few women he's loved. How does
Diana fit into that equation? His relationship with her may
turn out to be a very positive thing for him. Maybe Diana will
be the one to heal him, make him whole in the way I never could.
Not that I didn't want to try - Fox Mulder's charms have always
been my soft spot...that and his soulful eyes. I could have
spent a lifetime trying to heal his battered soul. But he wants
Diana.
I now see that all of these years of light teasing and innuendo,
electric touches and meaningful glances between us I have
misinterpreted as something more than friendship. In all
likelihood, Mulder has been carrying a torch for Diana all
along. I can't honestly say that I believe she is the right
woman for him and I don't believe her motives are in his best
interest. But if he loves her, who am I to stand in the way? I
will try to stay out of it and if he asks for my advice I will
be tactfully honest. I will let him know that I support him in
whatever direction his life may take. I will make every attempt
to be the friend that he expects me to be.
A heaviness falls over me in dark resignation. I cannot change
what has happened, I can only accept or deny. I cannot imagine
a life without Mulder in it. Whatever he needs, whether it be a
friend, a confidante, an advisor, a steady shot to cover his
back - I'll be there. As for me, well...
I need a shower. A long, hot shower complete with steam and
plumeria bath gel and those lovely exfoliating bath gloves.
Then I'll go to mass at St. John's and with the help of Father
McCue try to regain my inner strength. Every ounce of my being
tells me I'm going to need it.
Today was not such a bad day after all. I ran into my Mother at
mass and we went to lunch together then spent a few hours
window-shopping. We made a side trip to the Navy Exchange and I
picked up a few essentials - I forgot how reasonable the prices
are, not to mention the lack of sales tax. Mom and I talked
about Matthew's newest feat - he's walking now and Tara is
having a hard time keeping up with him. I made a promise to Mom
that we'd spend more days together like this one from now on. I
hate thinking of her all along in that big house and I certainly
could do with her company in the months ahead. It is fortunate
that she maintained her relationships with the other officer's
wives over the years - she has an impressive group of friends
that are both a comfort and support to her from day to day. Mom
is a testament to the fact that it is possible to find personal
fulfillment even though you've lost the love of your life. I
need to keep reminding myself of that simple truth.
I didn't think about work or Mulder once this afternoon. Well,
that's not entirely true. Maybe once. The honest truth is, I'm
ok with this now. Maybe not ok, but I can and will handle it.
I'll survive. The important thing here is Mulder's happiness
regardless of my own selfish interests.
The sound of someone knocking at my door pulls me out of my
thoughts. I'm not expecting anyone so I cautiously peer out the
peep hole. It is Mulder. I take a deep breath and steady
myself - this is it. I can do this. Mulder gives me a shy
smile as I open the door. He looks good but a little anxious,
which I suppose is usual for Mulder.
"I was in the neighborhood..."
"Come in." I hold the door open wide and he steps inside,
waiting for me to shut the door and running an appraising glance
over me when he thinks I'm not paying attention. "Did I come at
a bad time?"
I realize that I am slightly overdressed, still wearing my
outfit from mass this morning. "Oh, no. I was out today and I
haven't changed yet." I notice that he isn't making any attempt
to sit down and his eyes dart nervously around the room. "What
is it, Mulder?"
"I, uh...actually, I came to talk with you." He picks up a
candlestick off of my sofa table and examines it thoroughly, as
if it is suddenly the most interesting thing he has ever laid
eyes on.
I take another deep breath. I didn't expect this so soon. I
have to give him credit - at least he has the decency to tell me
to my face. I walk past him and sit down on the sofa, looking
up in a silent invitation for him to join me. He sits next to
me, folding his hands in his lap then laying them down on either
side of his legs, shifting uncomfortably. "What is this about,
Mulder?"
He looks over at me, takes in a breath and then stands, crossing
over to the fireplace. "I guess the best way is for me to just
say it. I... have issues." He pauses, looking over at me with
expectation.
Issues. Issues? This is news? "Yes?" My reply is meant to
encourage him but it sounds more like a confirmation.
"Well, they have never been things I was able to deal with until
recently. Its not that I didn't know about them, but I chose to
ignore them."
"How recently?"
He leans against the mantle, a shy smile playing on his face.
"Do you remember 'The Lady of Fate'?"
Uh oh. What does that have to do with it? I swallowed
involuntarily. "Yes. It was just two weeks ago."
Mulder runs his palm over his mouth and fidgets. "That was the
proverbial straw that broke the camel's back."
I missed something somewhere because this conversation is no
longer making sense to me. "Mulder?" I entreat, hoping for
clarity.
Mulder's leg is bouncing now - we're starting to get somewhere.
"I came back from our trip to South Carolina knowing that I had
to deal with these issues if I wanted to move ahead with my
life. So, I contacted a colleague of mine who I've known by
reputation for several years. A counselor."
"You've seen a counselor? Mulder, this isn't another one of
those hypnotic regression therapies..."
"No! No, it's not like that. This is a more traditional form
of counseling. The kind where two people sit down and
talk...kind of like what we're doing." He fixes his full gaze
upon me and I feel a tightening in my chest in response.
I reply with a nod, realizing that this conversation needs a
little encouragement for no other reason than I can't last much
longer. "So, you've seen a counselor and you've talked about
'issues' that you have that you feel you are now able to deal
with. Am I leaving anything out?"
Mulder begins to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace.
This isn't easy for him, I know. It's not easy for me, either,
but I'm going to let him say what he came to say. I remain
excruciatingly silent for a few minutes, watching him pace and
work out his thoughts.
"Scully?"
"Hmm?"
"You know about Diana…don't you?"
Nothing like the direct approach. How did he know that I knew
about Diana? I wait a moment before answering, looking at my
hands as they lay in my lap, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.
"Yes, Mulder. And I'm ok with it."
He stops and looks at me in surprise. "You are?"
I close my eyes and nod once.
Mulder crosses over to the sofa and sits down, taking one of my
hands in his. "I didn't know how to approach you with this."
I take my hand from his and reach out to give his arm a squeeze
before standing. I will be as understanding as possible but not
in such close proximity. That pain in my chest that has been
plaguing me off and on all weekend is back and I need to put a
little space between his body and mine.
Visibly relieved, Mulder continues. "This counselor suggested
that I try to work things out with Diana. When she left six
years ago there were still a lot of unresolved feelings between
us. They went back farther than that, even. Back to Phoebe,
back to Samantha's disappearance. I was able to bury these
feelings deep down, losing myself in my work...in *our* work,
until they started resurfacing. It became obvious to me in
South Carolina that I needed to get them all out in the open.
After speaking with the counselor, I approached Diana and asked
if she would be willing to work through this with me. She
agreed. We talked all night on Friday night and all day
yesterday. We were able to resolve some issues."
Again with the 'issues'. As Mulder speaks I can feel the pain
in my chest driving my eyes to the point of tearing. I can't
have him see me like this so I stand with my back to him willing
the tears to dry, desperately trying to gain control over my
emotions. I will not cause a scene. I gain a little headway
and took a series of deep breaths, calming my voice enough to
speak. "Whatever you need from me, Mulder just ask."
"You're an important part of this, Scully, that's why I'm here.
Your participation will determine my success or failure."
I try the deep breaths again, then turn and face him. "If you
want to work with her, Mulder...I'll understand. I'll step
aside."
Mulder's face was incredulous. "What? Scully, what are you
talking about? Wh..." Mulder's eyes searched my still-slightly
puffy eyes and a light went on somewhere behind them, his mouth
falling open. "You think I came here to ask you that?"
I feel like I'm sixteen again and Jason MacDonald is breaking up
with me. Sixteen or thirty-four, it doesn't hurt any less. The
emotional roller-coaster I've been riding this weekend has taken
its toll and I no longer have control of the ride.
Mulder wraps an arm around my shoulders. He speaks in soft
tones, an almost-whisper. "Scully, that is the *last* thing I
want."
I look into his eyes and he continues. "I don't want to work
with Diana. I don't want to do anything with Diana. That's all
behind me now. I want to look ahead without any fears or
unresolved issues holding me back." He cups my cheek in his
hand with a gentle caress. "I want to do that with you, Scully.
Only you. If you'll have me." He pulls back just enough to
look at me.
A wave of tears hits me and I begin to sob uncontrollably.
Mulder doesn't know what to do as he'd never encountered an out-
of-control bawling Scully before. He puts his hands on either
side of my face and tilts my head back until he's looking
directly into my eyes. His confusion and love - yes, love -
plays over his face and I smile through my tears, telling him
with my eyes how much the idea pleases me. He grins at me and I
chuckle, our smiles fading as he wipes the tears off of my
cheeks with his thumbs. Our laughter subsides and we look at
each other, the sentiment growing serious. A long moment passes
and very slowly Mulder leans in as I raise myself up on tiptoe
and our lips meet at last, soft at first but full of potential.
The second kiss is much longer and a lot less cautious as our
tongues meet and retreat, only to meet and retreat again and
again. I can't resist giving Mulder's bottom lip a little nip
with my teeth - I've wanted to do that for so long.
Mulder's eyes are glassy and warm and he smiles at me then pulls
me against him tightly, resting his chin on my head. I don't
know how but I can feel him smiling. After a long while he
takes my hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze before
leading me over to the sofa to sit. The autopsy report is still
laying on the coffee table and he can't help himself. He picks
it up and looks at it. "So, did you find anything unusual in
the Cahill autopsy?"
I close my eyes and gather my thoughts, trying to switch back
into Dr. Scully mode even though I'd like nothing more than to
slide back into the warmth of his embrace. "Yes. The medical
examiner did a less than thorough job - I think I'd like to take
another look at the body and run another tox screen on the blood
just to make sure something didn't fall through the cracks."
Mulder smiles and it is a smile I know well. We are going on a
field trip. "There's a lead on the source of the chemical found
in Cahill's blood - the Coast Guard requested a hazmat team on
an abandoned sailboat off of the coast of Florida..."
I groan before he could finish. "No more boats, Mulder."
Mulder laughs. "What's this? Captain Scully's little Starbuck
isn't up for a trip to the sea?"
"Bad things happen to us on boats, Mulder."
His eyes glow a bright emerald green as he looks at me. "Not
all bad." He says softly.
Oh. He's thinking about 'The Lady of Fate.' Or maybe something
else...a luxury liner, further back, perhaps. His eyes have an
almost dreamy quality and I think I'm going to get to spend a
little more time exploring his mouth with mine as he pulls me
against his chest. But instead of a kiss he lays his cheek
against my forehead and asks an innocent question, lightly
tracing circles on my arm with his fingertips.
"So, Scully, what else has been going on with you since Friday
besides reading autopsy reports and going to church? Anything
interesting?"
Now that catches me off guard; but I recover quickly. "No,
Mulder, it was a weekend just like any other weekend when we're
not in the field. Completely ordinary." I feel him smile again
and I close my eyes, relief washing over me as I let the liquid
sensation of his arms around me sweep me away.
fin
bed...@aol.com
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Starship/9769/
Beduini
"I brought you a leg."