Title: Beatitudes (1/1)
Authors: Laura Shapiro and Marguerite
E-Mail:   marguerite@swbell.net
          laura@humandesign.com
Rating: NC-17
Classification: MSR, A
Archive: Yes, but please inform us
Feedback: Please! <laura@humandesign.com>
Spoilers: very slight cancer arc and "Paper Hearts"
Summary: The Great Mystery is solved. What will become of Scully and
Mulder?

Author's notes: I am firmly in the "Yes-but-only-in-the-last-episode"
camp, as far as Mulder and Scully Romance is concerned. A recent thread
on the subject got me thinking about that theoretical last episode, and,
although I much prefer ambiguity to closure, what might happen if the
Truth were finally found. What is Mulder without his obsession? What
would Scully be without the force that drives them both? Carter and
crew have been batting these questions about recently. In the following
rather explicit tale, Marguerite and I attempt an answer. ~ Laura

Disclaimer: All characters are the intellectual property of 20th
Century Fox and Chris Carter. No copyright infringement is intended.
We just like to mess with them a little.

*****

BEATITUDES

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall
be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of
God.
Blessed are they who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs
is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you and say all manner
of evil against you falsely for my sake. Rejoice and be glad, for great
is your reward in heaven."

--Matthew 5:3 - 12

*****

Reluctantly, Scully followed Mulder into his apartment and watched as he
threw himself onto the sofa, careless of the rain rolling off of his
coat onto the upholstery.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting. A celebration, maybe? A
few beers tossed back in a bar, increasingly drunken toasts offered to
each other, to Samantha, to the Smoking Man? A few minutes spent
gloating in Skinner's office, followed by a thoughtful but happy dinner
in a posh restaurant? Possibly, she admitted, a night (a lifetime)
dodging the bullets of Those whose secrets they had finally unlocked
forever.

But she hadn't prepared herself for this familiar, brooding silence.

"Maybe I should just go."

His hand lifted slightly in a vague gesture that could have meant go,
stay, or any number of things. Fine, then. Disappointed, she reached
for the door, and then stopped.

Mulder turned toward her and regarded her with blank despair. The
hopelessness of the expression was somehow incongruous on his face, and
Scully realized that she recognized it only because it was an emotion
she'd seen in herself. It was a face full of doubt.

Scully threw her raincoat over the back of a chair and sat down in it.
She waited.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I ...just feel empty."

"You got what you wanted, what you've dreamed of and searched for and
fought for, for the last five years. Aren't you even a little bit
smug?"

He grimaced. "I guess I should be."

"Relieved?"

Mulder's lip twitched, and his resolve crumbled. He buried his face in
his hands. Scully's hand on his shuddering shoulders did not still his
sobbing.

She held him for what seemed like a long time. Then she went into the
bathroom and returned with a fistful of toilet paper.

"Here. You should really keep a box of Kleenex for situations like
this."

Mulder attempted a smile and blew his nose. "Thanks."

Again, Scully waited. She reflected that she spent a lot of her life
waiting for Mulder, one way or another. This time, however, she allowed
herself a glimmer of hope. Perhaps now, as the truth they had sought
shone brightly before them, Mulder could find some peace. He deserved
it. And she deserved to know him fully, the complete man she had
glimpsed behind the grief-stricken boy.

Still she waited, listening to the play of rain on the windows and the
soft drips from her coat to the hardwood floor.
All at once, Mulder lifted his heavy head and turned to her. His words
were spoken softly but they lanced through her like daggers.

"I don't know if this will make sense to you, Scully, but I feel like my
life is over. I finally know everything I wanted to know, and now...I
feel like I don't know anything, anymore. I don't know who I am."

Scully exhaled, her face grim with disappointment. "According to your
badge, you're Special Agent Fox Mulder of the Federal Bureau of
Investigation."

"And according to you?" he asked in a voice still darkened by tears.

"Mulder, I can't answer that question. I know who I think you are, and
who I hope you will be."

"And who is that?"

She sighed and looked at her hands. "I think you're a man who chases
shadows, a man who lives in darkness because he thinks he belongs
there."

Mulder nodded, blinking rapidly as he looked out at the rain-sodden
trees. "A man who belongs in darkness, and in silence."

"Oh, he excels at silence. Even after he catches the shadows and
illuminates the darkness, he does not utter one single word to his
partner all the way to his home."

Miserable as he was, Mulder could not miss the sting of pain in Scully's
words. "Someone who hurts his partner."

"He shuts her out and leaves her in the cold and the rain," Scully
whispered.

"He doesn't want to. It's for her own good."

"She's a grown woman. She doesn't need protection." There was more
anger in her voice as she spoke.

Mulder faced her, his eyes pleading. "He needs to protect her. He has
to prove that he CAN protect her. Not like..."

"I'm not your sister! I'm not a helpless little girl! I'm an FBI
agent, assigned to perform impossible tasks with an impossible man!"

After this outburst, the only sound in the room came from the rain.

"Scully." He tried unsuccessfully to control the trembling of his hand
as he held it out. She did not move, did not reach for him. "Am I
really impossible?"

"I used to think you were merely unlikely, but I've changed my mind."
She heard Mulder's chuckle and turned to him with fury in her eyes.
"That wasn't meant to be funny. You've become a caricature of yourself,
Mulder: the tragic hero, bearing the weight of the world on his slender
back. Poor Mulder, who lost his sister. Poor Mulder, who lost his
father and his faith. You ENJOY suffering, don't you? The ultimate
masochistic turn-on--your aura of pathos! Saint Mulder, transfixed by
the sword of Truth, patron saint of self-pity!"

She left her chair and stood in front of Mulder, looming over him with a
ferocity he had never seen. "I lost my father, too. And my sister.
And my faith. I lost my dreams of a family, any hope of a normal life.
I came THIS close to death from a form of cancer so rare that the
oncologists had to look it up. That's what the Truth cost me, Mulder.
But the one thing I didn't lose was hope. Through it all, I hoped that
we'd live to see this day. I wanted us to be able to close the book at
last so that we could get on with our lives. Christ, Mulder, I wanted
us to be happy! Why can't you let us be happy!"

Her last words were half-sobbed, and Mulder could see the sparkle of
tears in Scully's eyes. He took her hands in his to soothe her, but she
pulled them away roughly. Mulder took a ragged breath.

"Scully..."

"Do you have any idea what these years have been like for me? I joined
you almost fresh out of medical school, with my head full of facts, and
watched you turn my notions of reality inside out. I knew myself, and I
knew the world, and science could explain it all. Then I woke up one
day to find myself digging in a park in the middle of the night to
verify theses that came to you in a dream. In a DREAM, Mulder. The
things I've witnessed at your side will haunt me for the rest of my
life."

Scully could feel the blood rising to her cheeks as the tide of words
held inside so long at last burst forth. "And sure, taking a few
bullets is part of the job. But I've had my share of losses, and
through it all YOU led me, Mulder, with your blind determination, on
your unshakable quest. Your passion, your need to know, your conviction
that the truth is knowable, fueled us both through the insanity. I
doubted myself, the evidence of my own eyes, every step of the way, but
your faith was strong enough for both of us. It's all that's kept us
alive. And now that we've solved the Ultimate Mystery, now that we
finally know that elusive Truth we've come so far to find, you say your
life is over? Well, Mulder, you'd better find something else to live
for."

She stopped, aghast. Tears stood in her eyes. The relief she felt was
only partly obscured by her shame. She couldn't look at him.

Mulder's anger wasn't like hers, a sudden flare that cooled as rapidly
as it heated. When Mulder finally succumbed to his temper, it was after
a long, slow simmering and it glowed white-hot for an eternity. Fearing
the emotional damage she had just caused, Scully immediately began to
compose a careful apology in her mind. It was erased by the light touch
of Mulder's fingertips brushing the hair from her face. He pressed his
lips to her forehead.

She looked up, surprised, into eyes that smiled even as he regarded her
soberly.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Scully could feel her heart beating, yet time seemed to stop. The air
in the room seemed humid and heavy. Where just a moment ago she
couldn't meet Mulder's gaze, now she couldn't tear her eyes from his.
She felt his breath rustle her hair. She felt the heat rising from his
body. The warmth seeped comfortingly through her. And in his eyes, in
his face, she saw that something had changed. Something she now
realized she had been waiting for.

Mulder seemed to see her dawning comprehension, hear her unvoiced "yes,"
for only then did his hand reach into the rain-tangled hair at the back
of her neck and draw her lips toward his.

Her lips parted to receive the soft press of his kiss. Her heart
hammered and the room disappeared as she became lost in the warm
softness of his mouth. Her tongue darted out to caress him, to know him
in a new way, and his answered hers in a playful yet urgent rhythm.
When he broke away and traced a line of kisses down her jaw, she
whimpered and pulled him back to her own questing mouth.

At last they drew apart, faces aflame, and regarded each other with
glittering eyes. Into the silence he put:

"Wow."

She said, "I think I need to sit down."

They sat, facing each other on the sofa, never breaking eye contact.
She caressed his cheek, marveling at its texture and warmth, thinking of
how often she had wanted to touch him this way.

"I suppose I should cry, 'What have I done?' "

"It's what WE'VE done, Scully. And we've done what's right. So
right..." he murmured.

"And what we're going to do," she began, and checked herself, "I think?"

His eyes widened as he smiled. "I think so, too."

Scully discovered she was trembling with anticipation.

"Why, Agent Scully, I do believe you're shivering. Allow me to remove
that wet blouse." Mulder smiled broadly, the lazy, feline grin that
always made her catch her breath, and reached for her buttons. Her
impulse was to return his smile, to grin like an idiot in fact, but
instead she coolly quirked an eyebrow at him while grabbing his hands,
stopping him an inch from her shirt placket and the wildly beating
breast within.

"There are other ways to warm me up, Agent Mulder, and they have more to
do with removing YOUR shirt."

She held his long hands in hers for a moment, and then leaned forward to
push his sodden trenchcoat off of his shoulders. Stroking his hard
biceps through his jacket, she impatiently helped him shrug his way out
of that, too.

"Why do you always wear so damn many clothes?" she complained, yanking
on his tie, and then kissed him again before he could answer. Soon he
was divested of his offending shirt, Scully astride him on the sofa, her
sweet warm mouth encircling his sensitive nipple.

Something had broken apart inside Scully, and she was devouring him like
a starving animal. She was drowning in him, drowning in the golden heat
of her partner, her friend, her confidant, her lover. As she burrowed
into the hollow of his neck, her hands massaging their way down his
strong back, all her stunned mind could blurt was "Mulder. This is
Mulder I'm kissing, Mulder's beautiful, sinuous body I'm caressing."
Her experience was defined solely by the smell, taste, and sensation of
his flesh under her fingers, her lips and tongue, and the hard heat of
his sex against her thigh. She barely felt his hands caressing her
through her damp clothes, so she was unaware of his own urgency until
the tensing of Mulder's arms and a staccato shredding sound announced
the destruction of her blouse.

Buttons pinged on the floor as Mulder pulled her head from his chest,
kissed her hungrily on the mouth, and then dove for her breasts as
though they were his only salvation. Scully threw her head back and
moaned as Mulder kissed the uplifted top of her breasts his fingers
coaxing her nipples to attention through the silk of her bra.

Then the bra vanished and Scully found herself beneath him, her bare
back against the leather upholstery, twining her fingers in his hair as
he suckled her with increasing intensity. His hands softly stroked the
curves of her breasts as he nibbled at their rosy tips, and she gasped
as she felt a tugging at her clitoris as though an invisible thread of
lightning connected it to her nipples.

On hearing her gasp, Mulder suddenly stopped (her body cried out in
silent protest) and propped himself up on one elbow, chin in hand. Her
eyes met his, and for the first time she thought of how she must look:
hair tangled, skirt askew, mascara blurred with rain and tears, lipstick
smeared across her swollen mouth.

Mulder grinned, that divinely sexy grin.

Scully's panties went from damp to drenched.

"What?" she tried nonchalantly.

He grinned more broadly.

"WHAT?!"

Wordlessly, but still smiling, he never broke her gaze as he reached for
her hand and placed it purposefully on his cock, which strained
desperately against the front of his trousers.

A thrill ran through her, but she quelled it. The unmistakable evidence
of his desire, the fact that he was so hard (so hard!) for HER, was all
Scully needed to regain her composure. She slid gamely to the floor
between his knees and began stroking him intently, all the while fixing
him with her best 'you got a problem with that?' stare.

Far from having a problem, Mulder groaned. Scully bent forward and
pressed her open lips against the thin fabric stretched taut over his
need, and exhaled her hot breath against him. Feeling him shudder, she
smiled contentedly and resumed her stroking, feeling her own desire
tingling between her legs and echoing her caresses. Prompted by this,
she unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, reaching her eager hand
inside to cup his silken flesh in her palm.

He was hard, warm, tense in her hand, and he felt as if he belonged
there. Yet it wasn't enough; she wanted to taste him, to fill herself
with him. With a roguish gleam in her eye, she circled the tip of him
with her tongue, and then sucked him into her mouth, a hungry grown
emanating from her throat.

His hands roamed through her hair, not directing or forcing her, just
gently telegraphing his appreciation and need. She wrapped her hand
around the base of his cock and slowly moved her mouth up and down his
length. His panting and low groans were a symphony to her, and she
increased her pressure and speed slightly, relishing the intimate taste
and texture of him.

She was surprised and faintly disappointed when Mulder gently pushed her
away; he had felt so perfect in her mouth, and she longed to make him
writhe under her ministrations. Her disappointment was forgotten as he
rose to remove the rest of his clothes. He stood in the dim light of
the window, blue shadows playing against the amber of his skin.

"My God, you are beautiful," Scully breathed.

"Yeah, well, look who's talking," Mulder returned, moving toward her and
helping her off with her skirt.

Abruptly, he lifted her in his arms and replaced her on the sofa.
Kneeling at her feet, he placed a kiss on the sodden silk of her
panties. Her pussy thrummed in response.

Mulder picked up Scully's right foot, carefully removed her shoe, and
caressed slowly up her leg before returning the foot to the floor and
picking up the other. He unfastened her garters and rolled off her
stockings, his touch a warm and gentle pressure against her aching
flesh. Finally he removed her panties and pillowed his head for a
moment on her russet curls.

"I don't know if you can believe me," he murmured, "but I've never taken
you for granted. Not once. I guess I haven't been very good at showing
you that."

Scully stroked his hair, letting his words penetrate her.

"I will never make that mistake again."

So saying, he moved his head between her thighs and pressed his lips
against the swollen bud he found there.

Scully's fingers curled reflexively in his hair as he opened his mouth
against her, his sweet slick tongue devotedly lapping at her clitoris.
She looked down to see him gazing up at her, and then closed her eyes as
sensation overtook her.

Mulder's knowing tongue found her rhythm immediately, as though he had
always known it. His tongue played over her, urging her skillfully
toward release, and then he backed off for a moment, leaving her panting
helplessly. After a brief beat of anticipation, he slid his long
tapered finger smoothly inside of her.

"Ah," she sang, clenching around it gratefully as he resumed his
licking. She was blind with need, her whole being concentrated on the
place where his flesh met hers, coaxing her gently but insistently to
new heights. Her hips began to move, and he rode with her, his tongue
dancing slippery on her center, his finger increasing its tempo as he
moved it inside of her. Waves of pleasure lapped at her as inexorably
as he did, building ever closer. At last the tide came in with a crash,
and she cried out and bucked against him, he holding her, holding on,
making it last.

Only when her internal pulse ceased contracting against his finger did
he withdraw it, carefully, from her depths. She drew his head up and
kissed him like one who has been lost and is finally found, savoring the
length of his naked body against her.

His cock throbbed insistently against her thigh and, reaching down
between them, she slicked his first few drops of moisture across the tip
of him. He inhaled raggedly.

"Scully, oh...Dana, I want you."

Scully shivered at the unexpected intimacy her name had in his mouth.
She pushed Mulder's shoulders back against the sofa so that he was
sitting. In one fluid motion she lowered herself onto him, until he was
fully enrobed in her still-hungry body.

"Ohh," they both gasped, in awe at the sheer rightness of it.

They held each other tightly for a moment, sweat and desire gluing their
bodies together, and felt their hearts beating. Then Scully began to
move.

"Ahh," Mulder breathed, as Scully slid slowly back and forth, up and
down the length of him.

"Mmm," she echoed, as each movement brought exquisite new sensation.
She tightened herself around him and increased her tempo. Mulder
reached for her breasts, cupping them softly, and then pinching the
tips.

But Scully's only thought now was his pleasure, and she rode him with
growing fervor until his faint smile was replaced with the glazed stare
of wanton lust. Now it was Scully who was smiling.

She slowed briefly, grinding in small circular movements, as Mulder
grabbed her bottom and whimpered incoherently. Then she built the pace
up again, watching as every nuance of her movement was reflected on his
face. The pleasure she saw written there stoked her own fire, and she
felt herself beginning again the climb toward ecstasy.

Shifting her position slightly, she was rewarded with the pressure of
Mulder's cock against her g-spot, and, seeing that her own release was
inevitable, she increased the intensity of her movements again.
Marveling at the pure perfection of Mulder's cock inside of her, she
looked down.

Mulder was gritting his teeth, trying to hold on. His beloved face was
contorted in a familiar agony, the rapture of the martyred saints.

"It's all right," Scully uttered between gasps, dizzy with pleasure.
"I'm...ohh..." Her eyes spoke where her breath failed her. She reached
for his hands, and squeezed.

Granted the permission he so eagerly sought, Mulder thrust deeply inside
of her in counterpoint to Scully's snapping hips. She shuddered and
gasped in climax, and triumphantly ground against him as she felt him
grow larger.

"Aaahh!" he exploded, lunging against her, pulsing inside her.

Mulder held Scully against him as he came, and she reveled in the
sweat-slick press of his chest against her breasts as they both
shuddered in aftershocks and their breathing began to slow.

He stroked her back between her shoulder blades as she lay on top of
him, and then took her face in his hands.

"So, do you forgive me?"

"Ummm...what was I supposed to forgive you for, again?" she joked, and
then made a little whining noise as he slipped out of her. Mulder sat
up.

"I'm serious."

"Oh, Fox, so am I."

"Oh, *Mulder,* so am I," he corrected, eyes twinkling.

"Really?" She squeaked with laughter. "Okay, *Mulder.* I guess that
feels natural, anyway." She stroked his cheek, and he caught her hand
and kissed it.

"I meant what I said before, you know."

Scully peered up at him, smiling. "You said a lot of things just now."

Mulder's face was earnest. "I meant them all, Scully. But most of all,
that I will never take you for granted. I promise."

Her smile evaporated. Mulder saw the change; worried, he pressed his
lips to her fingers once more. "Scully?"

"I'm afraid," she said quietly.

"Afraid? Now?" He encircled her with his arms. "After all we've
endured, the monsters without and within," and here he touched her
forehead reverently, letting his lips follow, "what can possibly
frighten you now?"

"Only you." She shifted in his embrace and looked at him with eyes dewy
with unshed tears. "That you'll forget, that you'll pull another
disappearing act, that you'll take me for granted after all."

"Don't you believe me?"

"I want to believe," she began, then lowered her forehead to his
shoulder and laughed in spite of herself. "I'm sorry," she hiccuped.

"It's okay. Besides, I'm a little afraid, too."

"Of what?"

"That you'll discover what a pathetic wreck of a man I really am."

She hugged him. "Then I'll have to find some way to keep you busy,
won't I?" His laughter poured over her, healing them both. "Seriously,
though, Mulder, what's going to become of us now?"

"Y'know, Scully...just because we've discovered Their secrets doesn't
mean They're going to stop. Now that we know what's going on, we've got
to stop Them."

It took a minute for Scully to realize what Mulder was talking about.
For a moment the shift in mood affected her like vertigo, and then she
sank gratefully into its familiar patterns.

"Mulder, are you suggesting that we engage in vigilante justice?"

He laughed, and kissed her. "As long as you're my partner, I feel
capable of anything." He pushed a stray hair from her face.

"Besides," she said, "we can't quit now. There's still Bigfoot."

Mulder smiled. Scully nestled back into his arms, content. Her wait
was over. And she knew that Mulder had found something else to live
for.


END

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