Someone To Lean On 1/2
Eric Johns
at kjo...@mail2.alliance.net
SOMEONE TO LEAN ON
Kristel S. Oxley-Johns
This story was written in response to the challenge issued on ATXC
about the TV Guide photo of Scully in Mulder's jacket, leaning
on him. Obviously, it contains strong hints of M&S romance,
so be warned that there is LOTS of UST contained herein.
I took a few liberties with the setting here. The actual TVG
photo takes place during daylight in a city someplace. This
happens at night on a deserted street. Oh well.
The characters and situations of the X-Files television program
are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox
Broadcasting, DD, GA, et cetera, and are used without
permission. No infringement is intended.
SUMMARY: Not much to say. After an emotional day,
Scully and Mulder bond platonically over beer and pizza.
Lots of WAFFy moments.
* * * * *
Mulder looked up at his partner over the tops of his wire-
rimmed glasses as she fidgeted for about the thousandth time
that morning. She glanced up at him, opened her mouth to
speak, then snapped it shut and returned her eyes to the file
before her.
Mulder's brow wrinkled in confusion. If there was one thing
constant about the Dana Scully he knew, it was her brutal
policy of being forthright. Something had to be VERY wrong
to make her hedge on anything.
Something he did? Mulder wondered, then dismissed the
possibility. No, if he had pissed her off, she'd let him know.
She wouldn't necessarily come in ranting and raving--no, she
had too much finesse for that--but she would convey her
displeasure in her own way, with stony silence and an utter
lack of warmth. She would make him twitch for a while, and
then she would let him have it. He figured she did this because
she knew exactly which of his buttons to push. He enjoyed
dragging her from the strict confines of moderation by which
she abided. He felt a small victory when he was able to make
her smile, a major triumph when he could incite her to any
emotional extreme. He supposed, if he had to, he could even
abide for her to actively dislike him, but her utter apathy got
him every time, until he was practically begging for some
acknowledgment of his existence from her.
Yes, Scully knew only too well how to get under his skin. It
was one of the things that frightened him most about her. It
was also one of the things that always kept him coming back
for more when any sane man would have run screaming for the
hills.
But then, no one had ever accused Fox Mulder of being sane.
Above all else, Mulder loved an enigma, and certainly that
word suited Dana Scully. So quiet, so reserved, so logical and
precise, but with emotions and devotions that extended farther
and deeper than anyone could ever realize. Only rarely did
they erupt to the surface, and then only briefly before her rigid
control snapped back into place. Mulder counted himself
among a fortunate few to have been present at such an
instance.
He supposed it was Scully and others like her for whom the
cliche "still waters run deep" had been created.
He wondered if maybe his endless fascination with Dana Scully
wasn't some desire to test those waters in a more physical
sense, but that was a dangerous thought, and he steered
carefully clear of it. Certainly Scully had what it took to
arouse his body, but in the darkest recesses of Mulder's mind
was the certain knowledge that she was also fully capable of
capturing his soul. He knew beyond a doubt that if he allowed
himself, he could drown in the still waters of Dana Katherine
Scully.
It was, perhaps, the one area of his life where he insisted on
playing it safe, where he would take no chances. She was
already too inextricably ingrained in his thoughts and feelings.
To allow more would be dangerous for both of them,
physically and emotionally.
So instead, they had forged a spiritual intimacy deeper than
anything he had ever known. His trust in Scully was absolute.
There was nothing he could not tell her, and he'd always
thought that she felt the same. Which made this sudden
hesitancy of hers on this day all the more baffling.
Scully looked up and caught him studying her. She met his
eyes. "What?"
"Is something wrong, Scully?" he asked, setting the file he was
studying aside and focusing all his attention on her.
"No. Of course not. I'm fine."
Mulder sighed. Those were possibly the most hated words in
Scully's vocabulary, probably because when she uttered them,
she was almost always lying. Scully was never "fine" unless
something was deeply troubling her.
"You've been fidgeting all morning, and the report that you
said would be done by ten is incomplete as of--" he checked his
watch, "--ten forty three. Wanna tell me what's on your
mind?"
He heard her sigh, and then she swiveled around in her chair to
face him fully. "I have something I've got to do this weekend
that is going to be pretty tough. A few months ago, I got a call
from a friend of Melissa's. She's getting married, and she had
wanted Missy to stand up for her. So she asked me to be one
of her attendants in Missy's place."
Mulder saw a flash of pain cross Scully's face before she could
school her features again. Sometimes, he knew, the pain of her
sister's death was still raw and new for Scully. He reached out
and took her hand sympathetically. She closed her fingers over
his.
"Anyway," she continued, "what could I say? I guess in some
perverse way it makes sense, especially considering--"
She was unable to complete the sentence, but Mulder knew
what she was going to say--especially considering the way that
Melissa Scully had died, gunned down in Dana Scully's place in
an assassination attempt gone terribly wrong. He knew that
Scully might never forgive herself for that.
"Go on," he urged her past the unspoken words.
"She didn't mean it like that, I know," Scully sighed. "She
meant it as a tribute to Missy, but still--How could I say no?
So now I'm stuck. I'm going to be surrounded by people who
loved Melissa, but who have no idea what it will be doing to
me to be standing there in her place."
It was the sort of emotional admission from Scully he never
expected to hear. She didn't talk about her feelings much, and
with painful emotions this was doubly true. Mulder felt a mild
twinge of surprise even as his heart tightened in painful
sympathy for his partner and friend.
"Anyway," she sighed again, "I need to ask a favor of you."
Mulder smiled softly. 'You need an escort to the wedding?" he
ventured, and she nodded.
She could have asked someone else, he knew--a woman friend,
or even another man and actually made a date out of this, but
no one else, not even perhaps her mother, would understand
the full gauge of her loss like Mulder did.
"What time?" he asked softly.
"If you have something else planned, I'll understand--" she said
quickly.
"I can tape the baseball game, Scully. Besides, I owe you at
least this much. Now, what time?"
She drew in a breath. "Pick me up at three, the wedding is at
four, the reception is at six. The wedding is outdoors in a
park--I'll get the details to you later."
He nodded and turned back to his work while Scully did the
same. The tension in the room, the awkward silence, had fled
as though it had never existed. Strange, Mulder thought, how
a single unspoken issue could disrupt the harmony in which he
and Scully worked.
He was relieved. Hell, it was more than that. He was happy.
Happy that Scully trusted him enough to bring even her most
awkward emotions to him. Happy that it was he she had come
to and no other.
He supposed his possessiveness of her time and feelings was
way out of place, but he wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.
Sometimes he felt as though his and Scully's partner ship was a
marriage in its own right. Whereas most mates worked
separately and came home to each other, he and Scully went
home separately and came to work to each other. He had the
uncomfortable feeling that, under this "anti-marriage" concept,
he might find himself intimidated by any male she chose to
spend her free time with in the same way that a spouse often
found himself intimidated by his mate's work companions. It
was another possibility he didn't wish to delve too deeply into.
It was one of the few questions in life to which the answers he
might dredge up frightened him.
* * * * *
Scully anxiously studied her reflection in the mirror. When
Melissa's friend had called to ask this of her, she'd had
nightmares about what sort of New Age fiasco this wedding
might turn out to be, but her meeting with Schuylar and her
fiance Kevin had proven them to be a very quiet, sedate,
normal couple. While their spiritual leanings matched
Melissa's, their wedding was going to be a very modest,
traditional outdoor ceremony followed by a reception of
friends and family for feasting and fun. They understood that
Scully, not knowing anyone who might be present, might not
wish of stay for the entire duration, and they had welcomed her
to bring a guest. Now, knowing that Mulder would be there
with her, she felt much better about the entire situation.
She hoped that it wouldn't be awkward, having Mulder with
her at the wedding. Mulder understood her like no one else.
He knew how difficult this would be for her. But they didn't
spend a great deal of time together outside of work, which was
probably a good thing, considering the rumors that
occasionally surfaced about the two of them. Why was it so
hard for people to understand that she and Mulder could be so
close without being lovers? Mulder was her confidante and her
best friend, and certainly they shared a degree of intimacy that
was uncommon for workplace partners, but was it so
unbelievable that two people who had been through what she
and Mulder had been through together and seen what they'd
seen could forge just such a bond platonically?
Okay, perhaps it was. After all, she and Mulder were both
vital, healthy, attractive adults. She supposed that they had
both had their private moments of speculation, but it was as
though they had both known from the very beginning that what
they were to experience together would transcend the physical.
A spiritual bond had sprung up between them that was every bit
as intimate as sex, and infinitely more fulfilling, at least, in the
long run. It was the moments when she thought of what would
be fulfilling on a short term basis that frightened her.
But going to this wedding together was going to add a new
dimension into the situation. It was easy to keep things
platonic when the time that they did spend together was
consumed by work. Perhaps that was why they didn't socialize
together that often in the first place. To get familiar with
Mulder in a non-business setting was a slightly dangerous
proposition.
The doorbell rang at 2:55 sharp, and Scully smiled, knowing
that Mulder must have taken extraordinary pains to be
punctual. She left the bathroom, shutting the light off behind
her. She grabbed her handbag off the hall table and smoothed
the front of her long, dark blue taffeta dress. She opened the
front door.
"Hi," she murmured, looking him up and down in what she
hoped appeared to be a clinical fashion. The truth was, the
light gray silk suit did wonderful things for his lean physique.
But she couldn't let Mulder see that. She drew a long breath
and met his gaze.
"Am I presentable?" he grinned.
She couldn't resist a small smile. "You'll do," she teased.
He made a short, irreverent bow. "Your chariot--?"
Scully resisted the silly urge to drop a curtsy, deciding it was
best not to encourage him. Sometimes, his boyish charm was
hard to resist, though. She closed the door and locked it
behind her.
He placed one hand on the small of her back as she walked
past him and proceeded him out to the car, causing a slight
quickening of her pulse. Yes, she decided, it would be the
easiest thing in the world to view Fox Mulder in a strictly
platonic light if she weren't always so desperately AWARE of
him. It seemed that his every word, every touch, every glance,
every movement resonated through her being. Sometimes, she
didn't even have to be in the room with him to be aware of his
actions. It was as though, no matter what the circumstances
surrounding her, she was especially attuned to those events
which happened to, and because of, Fox Mulder. It was part
of the reason that they worked so well together, but there were
moments when it became a very distressing tendency.
"What?" he murmured as they walked. "No crystals?"
She gave him an amused grimace. "You know, you are the last
person in the world who should be making fun of anyone's
beliefs."
He held up his right hand in a warding-off gesture. "I wasn't
making fun, Scully, I swear."
"Actually," her expression sobered as he leaned past her and
opened the car door, "I have Missy's crystal in my purse. I felt
I should bring it."
His eyes were soft and sympathetic as she slid past him into the
car. He squeezed her shoulder gently as she passed, then
closed the door. Scully waited until he had rounded the front
of the car before she allowed herself a small shiver.
He couldn't realize, of course, what his incessant touches did to
her. He was always brushing past her, placing a gentle hand on
her back or shoulder, giving her a pat of support or a stroke of
concern. And she couldn't ask him not to do it. First, because,
even though he would no doubt respect her wishes, it would
hurt his feelings. He was simply a more tactile person than she
was. But most of all, to ask him to stop would be to confess
that his casual caresses had an effect on her, and that was
simply an admission that she was unwilling to make.
He folded himself into the driver's seat of the car and started
the engine.
"So, you want to brief me so I don't make an ass of myself
here?" he asked with a grin.
"Sure," she smiled, grateful for the diversion from her
disturbing thought. "Bride and groom are Schuylar Elliot and
Kevin Morgan, ages 35 and 32, respectively. No kids, yet.
She's a journalist, he's a graphics designer...I think. Schuylar
met Missy in college, they fell out of touch for a few years
while Missy was away, and then hooked up again when Missy
came back while I was ill."
She finished her recitation and then looked at him with
embarrassed chagrin. She sounded like she was briefing him
on a file, she realized. And judging from his grin, he had
picked up on that, too.
His grin was infectious, and soon, she found herself smiling as
well. It was going to be an interesting day, she thought.
* * * * *
The warm late April day was made to order for an outdoor
wedding, Scully thought, surveying the tastefully decorated
pavilion in the park on the river. It was early enough yet in the
proceedings that only the wedding party and a few guests had
arrived. She was dragged off with the rest of the bridesmaids
for photos, leaving Mulder to fend for himself.
However much she might protest the thought, she felt
awkward and isolated without Mulder by her side, without his
guiding hand at her elbow.
The ceremony was short and simple, and Scully stood silently
through it with the other attendants, Melissa's crystal tucked
into her palm, signifying her sister's presence in spirit. The
vows were made before the judge, rings were exchanged, and
the traditional kiss shared. The benediction was given and they
all filed out of the pavilion to a lilting flute melody. Gratefully,
Scully rejoined Mulder.
"Well, I have to confess, Scully--I'm disappointed. I had hoped
to learn something new today," he murmured, leaning close so
that only she could hear. His breath brushed past her ear,
raising bumps along her arms.
"I told you it was going to be quite normal," she replied softly.
"You'll have to find some other topic on which to sharpen your
wit."
"I told you--I wasn't making fun," he protested, and no babe
had ever worn a more innocent expression. His hand came to
rest on the small of her back again as they moved through the
crowd of well-wishers. "I was just curious, that's all."
She mentally damned her pulse for its reaction to his touch. It
figured that she would be wearing a backless dress, so that his
fingers rested with casual intimacy against her bare skin.
"Since when have you been 'curious' about the New Age
spirituality, Mulder?" she asked with an arched brow. "You've
never appeared to give any religion that didn't involve the
bizarre and obscure a great deal of credence."
"Well," he said thoughtfully, "You know, Melissa said
something to me while you were in the hospital after your
disappearance. She said just because something was positive
and good didn't mean it was silly or trite. I guess I kinda took
that to heart."
Scully smiled wistfully. "She was quite the orator."
Mulder looked at her quizzically. "Why do I detect an inside
joke here?"
At that, Scully laughed, a soft, sighing sound. "Missy
discovered Speech and Debate in junior high school and
became the terror of the Scully brood. She learned how to put
together these powerful, well thought out lectures and she
wielded them like moral weapons. She had no qualms
whatsoever about taking it upon herself to point out the error
of EVERYONE'S ways and, hopefully, reform them in the
process. Bill and Charlie and I came to fear her tongue-
lashings more than anything our parents could dish out. Once,
I broke a collector's dish of my mothers playing ball in the
house, and I ran to my mother to confess before Missy could
get ahold of me."
Mulder grinned, and Scully knew he was trying to envision her,
pig-tailed and freckle-faced, rolling her eyes and squirming
beneath the onslaught of her sister's sermon.
A sad expression replaced her smile, and suddenly, she felt on
the verge of tears. "I'd give just about anything to hear one of
those lectures right about now, Mulder."
Mulder took her hand and squeezed her fingers reassuringly,
then guided it to the crook her his elbow, slipping her arm
through his. The pain in her heart receded a little as she
became aware of the feel of his arm beneath her fingers, the
smooth silk of his jacket, the subtle play of lean muscle and
sinew, and the warmth of him through the cloth that separated
them in the cool April afternoon. His lean strength seemed to
absorb into her upon contact, vibrating through her. She felt it
in her fingers like an electric charge.
She might have pulled away, shying from the unintentionally
invasive contact, but Mulder's free hand closed over hers,
holding it in its position on his arm. The pressure of his fingers
on hers was gentle, but insistent and reassuring. Suddenly, she
didn't want to pull away.
She looked up at Mulder and he returned her gaze, his eyes
carefully neutral. It was that neutrality that gave him away.
Mulder was never less than totally open to her. Now, though,
he was trying to keep her from seeing his reaction.
He feels it too, she realized, her mouth going slightly dry. He,
too, felt the charge when they touched. It frightened her, and
so whenever they touched, she drew away, but Mulder--
Always it was Mulder reaching out to her, Mulder insinuating
himself into her personal space.
He likes what the feeling does to him, she thought in wonder.
She felt threatened by it. She feared what it might do to her
control. But control had never been as big an issue with
Mulder as it was with her. Mulder was the one who took risks,
who put it on the line, who craved excitement and enjoyed
teetering on the edge. Mulder enjoyed the occasional loss of
control.
Vaguely, Scully wondered if she shouldn't feel slightly used,
and resent the fact that he was getting pleasure at the expense
of her composure. But as she felt the solid warmth of his arm
beneath her fingers, she realized, no matter what the cost to her
composure, she enjoyed it, too.
Her logical mind moaned in protest. The are not thoughts you
should be entertaining about your partner, Dana Katherine!
She looked around her at the throng of people surrounding the
happy newlyweds, at the tasteful flowers and the bright blue
sky. And then she looked at Mulder, looking cool and
handsome beside her, his eyes dancing with their omnipresent
merriment. Today, everything was different. Today, they were
not partners, but friends. Just for today, she realized, what she
should and shouldn't be thinking just didn't matter.
* * * * *
The reception was pleasant enough, Mulder thought, glancing
around. True, the vegetarian buffet had left his hunger only
mildly appeased, but what had he expected? All in all, though,
it was sedate and pleasant, but for one major drawback.
Scully was absolutely miserable.
Not that she would admit to it, of course. She forced a brave
smile to her lips that only he seemed to be able to see through,
and small talked her way through the receiving line. She
forced the bland food down her throat and danced the required
dance with her male counterpart from the wedding party and
politely chatted with those friends of Melissa's who came by to
introduce themselves. But Mulder could see the flicker of pain
in her eyes that grew more pronounced each time someone
new gave her their condolences. Here, among Melissa's
friends, she could share memories, but here she also had to
share sorrow.
Finally, Mulder reached over and gently touched her shoulder.
She jumped, startled back from wherever her mind had
wandered to and looked at him with wide eyes.
"You about ready to get out of here?" he asked softly, not
removing his hand from her shoulder. Her skin was soft
beneath his fingers.
She looked ready to reject the idea out of form, but then
nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think so."
She lifted her purse off the table and Mulder followed her, his
hand riding on her elbow, to the end of the room where the
bride and groom conversed with their guests. He knew that
there was an independent, feminist side to Scully that wanted
to protest the way he was always touching her, escorting her
when they were together with his hand ever at her elbow or
waist, but she seemed to recognize the gestures as being born
of respect and courtesy rather than condescension. He knew
he was never going to win any prizes as Mr. Gallantry, and he
was fully aware that Scully did not require any assistance in
standing or moving, but being with her brought out a
chivalrous side of him that he didn't get to exercise that often.
Scully brought out the best in him, always.
Also, the courtesies gave him an excuse to touch her.
He knew how dangerous the thoughts were, but God help him,
he could not deny himself the opportunities when they were
presented to him. He was powerless to resist the appeal of
touching her--the gentle pressure of her fingers within his
grasp, or the deceptive delicacy of her soft shoulder beneath
his touch. There might be a world of sentiments that he might
never be able to express to her verbally, but there were things
that he could convey to her harmlessly with the stoke of his
fingers on her arm. He did not have the strength of character
to deny himself the small pleasure of that knowledge.
They made their good-byes and left, walking silently out of the
building to the car. During the reception, clouds had moved in,
and the sky that had been clear blue earlier was now overcast.
The air was damp with the threat of rain.
Mulder opened Scully's door for her, another chivalrous
gesture that, if only for today, was not protested, and then
seated himself in the driver's seat. He started the engine, the
turned and looked at her.
"You gonna be okay, Scully?" he asked softly, the careless
phrasing not masking the concern in his tone.
She met his gaze with sad eyes. "Yeah," she shrugged. "It's
just hard, sometimes. And I can't always share it with my
mother, because she has her own pain that she's dealing with.
It just builds up, and--"
"I know, Scully," he said softly, taking her hand where it rested
on her lap, plucking at a fold of her skirt. He felt her pain like
a physical ache inside him, and he was overwhelmed by the
need to make her smile again, to erase the sadness from her
eyes. Sometimes he thought that he might like to erase all the
sadness from her life, for the rest of her life.
"That rabbit food buffet did nothing for me," he announced,
startling her with the change of topic. "Are you hungry?"
"A little. What do you have in mind?"
He grinned. "There's this hole in the wall pizza place about a
block away from my apartment. They have an absolutely
divine deep dish. Double cheese, pepperoni, Italian sausage,
green pepper and mushrooms, Scully. What do you say?"
She smiled gently, rewarding his effort, at least. "Nix the
mushrooms, throw in some onions, and we'll talk."
He sighed. "Okay. But only for you," he answered, and pulled
out of the parking lot.
* * * * *