TITLE: THE FIRST FIFTY TIMES
AUTHOR: bugs
bugs1231@my-dejanews.com 
DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer, any archives and webpages that ask.

SPOILERS: Dreamland, Tithonus, Two Fathers, One Son, Arcadia.
Monday should be viewed for this story to make sense. I have put
the episodes in the order they were intended to air, with Arcadia
coming before Monday.

RATING: R for sex and violence

CLASSIFICATION: MSR, Humor, with a touch of Angst around the edges.

SUMMARY: What happened the first fifty times Monday that caused
Mulder's waterbed to spring a leak?

DISCLAIMER: Well, I use material verbatim from the episode, I
should say something...

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks of Janet Caires-Lesgold of all her hard
work on this story. And Teresa and Frohike for giving me some
great input as well. Gratitude to Tiny Dancer's website for the
transcript to Monday. Drop a note to bugs1231@my-dejanews.com if
you wish.




Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost. ---W.B. Yeats



Craddock Marine Bank, Washington D.C.
Monday, 9:54 AM:

Mulder's heart beat slow and weak under Scully's palm as
she cradled his limp body on her lap. She forced herself to
tear her eyes from his glazed, fixed stare and looked up at the
bank robber with the bomb strapped to his chest.

She forced the words out. "You're in charge here, you know. It
doesn't have to end like this." Her voice sounded thin to her
own ears.

The robber only accelerated his raspy breathing, and movement
at the bank's door caught their attention.

"Yeah, it does," he gasped out with a certain glee as he
watched the SWAT team burst through the door. Scully felt her
own heart constrict in her chest as Mulder's fluttered and
stopped beneath her touch.

Everything she was losing came out in her cry of protest,
"Noooooo!"


Sunday, 10:24 PM

Number 1: 'One ringy dingy...two ringy dingy...three ringy
dingy...' Mulder diverted his nervous, jittery thoughts with an
Ernestine imitation.

When her curt voice cut in, he jumped. "Scully."

"Oh, uh, Scully, it's Mulder."

"What?" She was impatient.

"Where are you?" His voice sounded tinny.

She sighed. Well, that *had* sounded a little pathetic. "I'm at
my mother's. We went to evening mass and she's having a get-
together at her place."

"Oh." He tried to sound stronger.

"Did you want something?" She seemed distracted.

"Uh, well, I was wondering if you wanted to come over and
finish our Scrabble game," he suggested.

"What?" she asked.

"Remember, the night we were hauled away for our spa
treatments by the CDC? We were playing for the title of
ultimate domination as Head Smartie?" Now he tried for
nonchalant.

"Yes..." she said slowly.

"But I guess if you're at your mother's it's too far out of your
way." He wasn't above using his sad little boy voice.

"I was just getting ready to leave. I could come by, I guess.
I keep forgetting to give you some clothes that got mixed in with
mine in Arcadia. I've been carrying them around in my car for a
week now." After a pause, she said, "I'll drop them by and it'll
be done."

"Great, I'll be waiting." He decided to ignore her put-upon tone
and take what he could get.

Mulder hung up the phone and surveyed the room. Scrabble board
in position on table. Pillows on the sofa fluffed.

He crossed to the kitchen and checked in the refrigerator. A
selection of beverages chilling. On the counter, snacks waited
in bowls. He grabbed a box of Goldfish crackers, Parmesan cheese-
flavored, and started chewing through them as he continued the
tour of his apartment.

He moved to the bathroom. Toilet seat down, new toothbrush
sitting next to his in the glass, toothpaste squeezed from
bottom. Fresh towels hung out, hair cleaned out of drain in
the shower.

He went into the bedroom. Clean sheets on the waterbed. For
the hundredth time he considered the bed critically. Perhaps
he should have gotten rid of that thing. It just didn't seem
very Scully. It was just that he'd developed affection for it
in the last month. He was actually sleeping in a real bed
these days, hopefully not alone from now on.

Tonight was the night, to quote the love master, Rod Stewart.
He had made a resolution while on assignment at The Falls.
Rather than being dissuaded by her resistance to his admittedly
clumsy overtures, he was encouraged.

The lady doth protest too much, to quote another master. He had
resolved to make a plan and put it into action. It had taken him a
few weeks to pull this all together, but he believed in being
prepared.

He didn't want to think of this as a seduction. Seducing was
something Warren Beatty got up to with starlets. Persuasion.
He would use the force of his personality to persuade her this
was a good idea.

There would be some resistance at first, he was sure, but he
was beginning to think her skepticism for his theories had
become a habit over the years. They had been chugging along,
sitting side by side in their rattletrap of a relationship and
Mulder was just going to...push down the pedal. He was the
impatient sort, always had been, and he was suddenly, painfully
eager to reach their destination.

But he would need to move carefully through this minefield. Over
the years he had noticed the two of them becoming more similar in
temperament, moving closer together. He needed to channel some
of her emotion control and tenacity right now. He wanted to
dissect their relationship like a corpse, cutting it up and
reassembling it into a Frankenstein, a slave to do their bidding,
despite the scars and bolts holding it together.

His little internal pep talk was interrupted by a light knock on
the door. He took a deep breath as he went to the door and opened
it to reveal Scully standing nervously in the dim hall.

"Come in," he said as low and as sexy as he could. That earned
him a confused glance as she swept past. A light cloud of
perfume settled on him, not her normal scent.

She was removing her wool coat and he moved forward to help
her. Her hair tickled his nose as he pulled the coat free from
her shoulders. She was wearing it loose and curly as she had
on assignment at The Falls. He gave a small smile of
satisfaction as he turned to hang her coat up.

Before they had left for Southern California, he had suggested
she soften her look for the assignment. She had told him to
fuck himself in that wonderfully straightforward way of hers, but
she had showed up with it that way. Perhaps she was keeping it as
a permanent look. He could get used to that.

She moved away to sit on the sofa and he got a good look at
her. Oh, my. Her dress was somber and conservative enough for
church, stretching from a high neckline down to almost hobble her
at mid-calf. But it was snug and soft, a navy blue that made her
eyes as deep and dark as wells. Confined as though in a tight
suede glove, her body moved in a way he had never seen it do
before. With a start, he realized he had never seen her dressed to
impress...

"So Scully, what was this get-together about?" He tried to be
casual despite his clenching abdominal muscles gripping down on
the entire box of crackers he had eaten waiting for her arrival.

She stared at the fish in his tank swim lazily around. "Oh, some
old friends of my parents were in town to see their son on
leave...my mom wanted to host a party for Hank to catch up with
his parents and friends."

Like a school of dying fish, all the Goldfish crackers rolled over
and exposed their bellies in his stomach. Hank. Blue uniform, the
row of medals. Tall, of course, broad shoulders. Sandy hair and
big white teeth. Southern perhaps, had a large dog he carried in
the back of his pick-up when he went fishing...

She interrupted his wild imaginings. "Mulder, can I have something
to drink?"

Of course...time to move forward with his plan...she had come
here... she hadn't stayed with Hank... Stay confident, he thought
as he skittered off to the kitchen in a jumble of long limbs and
nervous energy. Calm...calm...

Sitting across from him, she fidgeted with the tiles with her
long nails. His fingers writhed together restlessly as he
assessed his tiles. His hands shook so much that when he laid them
on the board, he scattered them and had to carefully line them up
again.

GELD. It was the only word he could do with only one vowel, but he
didn't know if it was worth it. She looked as though she was
trying to control a small smile.

She leaned over the board quickly. Of course she had her word
ready. -ELID off the G. Where the hell did she come up with these?

Frantically he checked his new tiles. Damn. He laid out the
highest score he had, adding -IMP to her L. She took a sip of
her drink as though to cover the grin that was threatening
to split her face open.

He needed to get going. Time to get assertive. "So, Scully...it
was great to be working again, eh?"

"We were always working, I guess it depends if it's work you
enjoy," she said as she laid out REPEL, using his L.

He had F-L-A-C-C-I- to build back off of her D. The word used up six
of his letters, he got 48 points, but was it worth the
humiliation? He could almost hear the screaming wheels of his
Love Train jumping the tracks as he quickly picked up new tiles
and ignored her stifled chuckle.

"I enjoyed that first assignment back on the X-files," he said
in the sexy voice again. Get the Little Engine That Could puffing
back up the hill...

She wasn't going to give him an inch. "Once it turned into an
X-file, you seemed more focused." She put -IGID off of the R of REPEL.

"I was always focused." He felt a strain in the air and glanced up
at her.

She was looking at him sadly. "I don't know, Mulder..." Her voice
was barely a whisper. "You scared me there."

He was confused. "At The Falls?"

"No..." She nodded down at the forgotten game board. "That night,
with Diana...it was like... You gave up... You scared me."

He was stung. "Maybe I was finally being realistic about how
much impact we could really have on the situation. I took the
opportunity to save us..."

She interrupted him passionately. "You think that's what I'd
want? To survive with only the Consortium and...her?" Her mouth
twisted in derision. "No, thanks."

He was oddly calm. This was the moment he was waiting for. The
train was pulling into the station. "So you're calling me a
coward?"

She looked startled. He laid down -ENIAL on the board under her D
and carefully counted his points as she seemed to collect her
thoughts. "No...I mean...I just... You scared me..." she finished
lamely.

"You scare me sometimes too. And sometimes I think you're a
coward," he said with a contrived casual air.

"What!?" she exploded.

He looked at her coolly. "In most things you are the strongest and
bravest person I've even met. But in one thing you're a coward."

She looked around the room. "What? What are you talking
about?" Her eyes met his and he saw she suddenly figured out
what he meant. He was glad. It would kill him to tell her he thought
she was weak just because she wouldn't say 'I love you' too.

In the storming ocean depths of her eyes he saw fear wash over
realization before it was drowned by anger. She sputtered, "You
lured me over here..."

She didn't allow him to speak. She stood quickly, upsetting
the game board onto him. Stiffly, she went on, "I have to go. We
have that early meeting tomorrow."

He regretted moving so fast. "Scully..."

"Let's just forget we had this conversation, okay?" she said as
she yanked her coat on. She was out the door before he could
clear the pieces off his lap and jump up to follow her.

He fell back into his chair, "Like always," he whispered
dejectedly into the darkness of his empty apartment. He could hear
the air bubbles in his fish tank popping open, ticking off all the
wrong moves he had just made.


Number 3: He laid down THROB on the board and carefully
counted his points as she seemed to collect her thoughts.
"No...I mean...I just... You scared me..." she finished lamely,
averting her eyes from the board.

He spoke carefully. "I understand what it is to be scared. I'm
scared about a lot of things."

He raised his eyes from his tiles and saw the fear in her eyes.
"Are you scared now, Scully?"

Fluffing up like an irritated kitten, she blustered, "What have I
got to be scared about? I'm beating you."

Regardless of what she said, he saw a tear developing in her iron
curtain and the dark, aggressive part of him was bursting to jump
across the table, rip a larger opening and squeeze through to
the other side. He pulled his breath in sharply to control
himself. He had to tread lightly in her carefully planted garden.

Quietly, he agreed with her. "You're winning the battle. But will
you win the war?"

Sudden insight lit her eyes and she rolled her head back to
assess him coolly. Her eyes drifted from his new drink
tumblers to the silver bowls of snack crackers. She lifted a
brow and he smiled back, like a tomcat with one small yellow
canary feather sticking to his lips.

"Do you think you're going to beat me?" she asked.

He shook his head, suddenly unsure of whether to zig or zag. "I
don't want to do that..."

She quickly looked back down at the board and laid down the tiles
-ENSE onto his T.

"I know you think a lot of me, Mulder," she murmured as she tucked
her hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture. "But sometimes I think
I'm a coward. Sometimes it's hard to be strong all the time."

"I understand," he said, trying to soothe her. "I don't expect you
to be strong all the time. Regardless of what you may think, you
can count on me to support you when you're feeling scared." DEEP.
Why couldn't he find enough letters for longer words?

She wasn't doing any better. WET. Still, she managed to hit
the triple word score. Damn.

The clock struck midnight, startling them both. She rose
uncertainly from the sofa. "It's Monday. I should leave and
let you go to sleep. I'm on your bed."

He leapt up, trying to cover his frantic energy. The perfect
opening had occurred. "No, as a matter of fact, I have a bed."

"You do?" She looked worried.

He gripped her arm a little too tightly. "Yeah, let me show you."

She carefully pulled her arm free and stepped back, distancing
herself from him. "That's okay. I've gotta go."

She grabbed her coat and slipped out the door as he sagged against
the wall, punishing his aggressive nature by banging his head
slowly on the hard surface.


Number 7: He leapt up. "No, as a matter of fact, I have a
bed."

"Oh, when did that happen?" She looked curious.

"Actually, it's a very interesting story," he said as he
steered her down the hall carefully with a light palm in the small
of her back.

He was trying to be suave, but his head was buzzing so loud he
couldn't think straight. "Here it is," he said as he escorted
her into the room and waved a unsteady hand toward the covered
bed.

She looked it over, approaching cautiously. He moved past her, sat
carefully on the edge, making the mattress roll. Now she really
looked scared.

"A waterbed?" She was incredulous.

"Yeah, but it wasn't my choice." He patted the mattress with what
he hoped was confidence and she lowered herself carefully down
beside him.

"Your choice?" she questioned.

"When we got back from the Area 51 fiasco, it was here."

She didn't look like she believed him. "Really!" he insisted.
"I took it as a sign of a higher power."

He watched the light dance red on her hair as she shook her head.
"Only you, Mulder. Only you would have a Mulder-god who hands out
waterbeds..."

She laughed and he loved the sound. He lay back on the fuzzy
bedspread. "Okay, probably just a gag gift from Frohike."

He tugged lightly at her shoulder and she lay back as well.
Oh, boy. She mused seriously, "This would fit his character
profile...oh my God!"

She was staring up at the mirrors. He got nervous.

"Do you ever see yourself in a mirror and not recognize that
person for one brief moment?" he asked in a low tone. Like
trying to capture a wild doe, he didn't want to startle her.

"Yes...all the time...I can't remember the last time I recognized
myself." Her voice was melancholy. This wasn't the route he
wanted them to be taking. Back to seduction.

He wiggled a little closer and lay his hand on her firm bicep.
He turned his head and murmured in her ear. "We can be two
different people...two strangers...we're watching them...in
action..."

In the reflection he saw her watch with a wide gaze the image of
his long, dark finger slip up and down her arm. She let out one
long sigh. "I suppose..."

He wiggled even closer so that he could touch his lips to
her brow, turning his eyes away from the mirror...and as if his
gaze was holding her in his power and that spell was now
broken, she suddenly jerked away and struggled off the bed.

"I've gotta go," she flung over her shoulder as she fled the
room. So close...He banged his head in muffled wet thumps against
the rolling mattress.


Number 14: She laughed and he loved the sound. He lay back on
the fuzzy bedspread. "Okay, probably just a gag gift from
Frohike."

He tugged lightly at her shoulder and she lay back as well.

She mused seriously, "This would fit his character profile...oh
my God!"

She was staring up at the mirrors. He got nervous. He knew he
should have gotten rid of this damn thing! "You hate it..."

"I don't hate it," she said slowly. A soft, loose smile
spread across her lips. She murmured, "I will confess, I've
never been on one of these things. By the time I started dating,
all the swinging bachelors with waterbeds and shaggy bedspreads
were gone."

What was she suggesting about him? He glanced up at the mirror
and saw a guy with a huge erection tenting his wool pants
and a confused look on his face. He looked like a guy who didn't
know what to do next.

He glanced to her face and saw her staring at his arousal with
trepidation. Her tongue flicked out to lick her plump lips and
his penis twitched. This was embarrassing.

Her face flooded red, and she struggled upright. He didn't
bother to follow. For some reason he found himself mouthing the
words along with her, "I've gotta go..."


Number 28: She lay back on the bed carefully. He watched her
in the mirror and saw her eyes widen, as she became aware of
the reflective surface above them.

"It needs to be firmer," she said seriously.

"What?" In horror he glanced at his groin. His jeans were too
tight, that was all. He knew he shouldn't have changed out of his
slacks.

"If you added more water it would be firmer. The mattress.
That's why you have too much motion." For a visual aid, she
rolled from side to side and the mattress heaved with his
stomach.

"You're awfully green, Mulder. Are you okay?" she asked,
concerned. She lay a cool hand on his clammy brow.

"I'm fine," he lied, willing his stomach to settle.

She struggled out of the bed. "No...I should go, you're not
well."

He would have followed her to try to draw her back to the room,
but he needed to lie still and focus on the bureau to still his
heaving stomach.


Number 35: He wiggled a little closer so that he could touch
his lips to her temple, turning his eyes away from the
mirror...her hair was so fine and yet so strong. No hair care
product could control the curl here where the red strands met
her ivory skin. He loved those few unruly strands. He had
spent a lot of time in the past six years studying them and
now his tongue was wetting and smoothing them.

He slowly kissed her forehead, down to her eyelids. They fluttered
lightly as her eyes darted under the closed lids. He kissed just
the tip of her nose and then with one soft sigh, moved down to her
mouth.

As soon as his lips gently touched hers, she came alive as
though he'd stuck her with a cattle prod. She tried to climb
on top of him, but a violent wave of the mattress threw her
back down.

He tried to roll to catch her and the sloshing motion lifted
her and dropped her farther away. Grumbling, he wiggled on his
belly after her squirming form.

She was wrestling with her dress and hose. That's an idea,
strip first. The mattress heaved as they worked at each
other's clothes. His head was swimming when skin finally
touched skin.

He managed to pull her on top of him, and she balanced
precariously as they rocked from side to side. Their mouths
were grinding together, not allowing any breathing.

Mulder's head ached. He was cold and clammy everywhere but his
groin, where his burning blood was boiling. His stomach
suddenly pitched up and he ripped his mouth free.

"Oh, god, Scully..." Somehow he rolled her off of him and began
to crawl to the edge of the mattress.

"Mulder, what's wrong?" She was left abandoned in the middle
of the bed, like a mermaid in a tropical lagoon.

He couldn't answer. He barely made it to the bathroom in time.
Within a minute, she was at his heaving shoulders. "Mulder?"

He couldn't answer. Her small hand touched his arm. "Mulder, I
think I should go."

He had to stop her. He shook his head and tried to speak.

She was firm. "No, I think it's a good thing. I need time to
think. Uh, I hope you're okay. I've gotta go."

She fled the room and he heard her scrambling to collect her
clothes, but he was confined to the bathroom.

The apartment was silent. She was gone and he was finished
throwing up. His life was hell.


End (1/2) feedback to bugs1231@my-dejanews.com


THE FIRST 50 TIMES by bugs-Post Monday fic-(2/2)
See part 1 for particulars, Rated R for sex and violence


Number 41: Mulder hit the button on the remote control for the CD
player as they settled onto the bed. Dusty Springfield's husky
moan caressed the room.

'The look...of love...is in...your eyes...'

Scully raised a brow at the sound of the tune. He chuckled
uncomfortably. "Uh, believe it or not, the bed and the loaded CD
player had just magically appeared when we got back from Area 51
that night."

"You liar..." She couldn't contain a series of full, deep chuckles
but Mulder wouldn't be dissuaded from his goal. He nibbled at her
ear as he eased them onto their backs, side by side. She didn't
stop him.

'...A look...your smile...can't dis-gu-ise...'

Their mouths worked their way towards each other, finally
meeting and sinking together.

'So much more than words could ever say...'

A giggle from Scully caused their lips to pop apart. "That
song..."

"Sexy, huh?" Mulder murmured as he lifted her hand to his
mouth and let his tongue travel down the love line on her
palm.

'How long I have waited...'

"Uh, traumatic childhood memory actually..." She sat up on the
bed, her brow furrowed. Mulder stayed flat on the bed, gripping
his hands tightly around her small fingers. He felt control of the
situation slipping away from him.

'Be mine...tonight, let this be just the start of so many nights
like this...'

"A couple of times a month, we could hear that song coming
from our parents' bedroom and one night mean ol' Bill
convinced me to open the door without knocking to see what
they were doing..." She wrenched her hand away to cover her
eyes. "Ugh! I thought I would go blind!"

Mulder's heart sank. Scully struggled off the bed.

'I can hardly wait to hold you, feel my arms around you...how long
I have waited...'

"Uh...Mulder, I think I should go...I'll see you at the meeting,"
she threw over her shoulder as she hurried from his room. He
fell back on the bed with a sad, wet, plop.

'Don't ever go...I love you so...' Dusty finished moaning as a
horn wailed on.


Number 49: Mulder hit the button of the CD player as they entered
the bedroom and Bryan Ferry's convincing croon slid out of the
speakers to fill the space.

'...More than this...you know...there's nothing...more than
this...'

Scully cocked an eyebrow at him, but continued to approach the
bed. He swiftly passed her and sat down on the mattress.

"Be careful, it's a waterbed," he said breathlessly.

"A waterbed?" She looked intrigued.

"Yeah, I think it was Frohike's idea of playing a love god,
only he won't confess it," he theorized.

"Why would you need the help of a love god?" she asked as she
reached down to caress the furry bedcover.

"Right now I do..." He ran his finger up and down the soft
fabric on her sleeve, somehow knowing her skin would even
smoother. "I need all the help I can get. I'm not getting very far
on my own."

"Oh?" She finally looked at him and he saw the white hot fear
in her eyes. Slow, slow...channel the cucumber coolness of
Ferry... It took all of his strength to say the next, slightly
humiliating words. "I thought honesty would work, you know, saying
'I love you', but I haven't really seen any response."

He got a response then. Shock. "You were serious?"

"Yeah." He could barely breathe the word out. It was one word, but
felt like it would be the most important thing he would ever say
in his life.

"You meant it like, 'I love you' not..." she struggled on,
looking as though her legs weren't able to hold her up
anymore. He reached out and caught her. "You meant it?" she
finished rambling weakly.

"Yeah." He opened his legs and gently pulled her into the
cradle of his thighs, burying his nose in the crook of her
neck.

She swayed in his grasp and he wondered if she was dancing or
passing out. Then she bent her head down and placed a light
chaste kiss on his hot neck. He'd take that as an encouragement.

He raised his head to catch her lips when she tipped her head to
kiss the other side of his neck.

His palms slid around and around on the downy fabric of the
back of her dress, following the actions of their tongues.

She pulled her lips free just long enough to say, "The zipper
starts up at the collar," before she plunged back into his
open, gasping mouth.

Uh, should he take that to mean she wanted him to pull the zipper
down? To touch her naked flesh? To make love to her? He had hoped,
but hadn't really expected...her hands were reaching down to tug
his shirt free of the waistband of his jeans. The zipper, he must
find the zipper.

Amazingly, his fumbling fingers snagged the tiny piece of
metal on the first try and gently pulled it along her spine,
letting his fingertips trail down the satin of her skin,
feeling the guilty pleasure of running a finger along cake
frosting, disturbing its white perfection.

When his hands settled on her hips, she reluctantly freed his
mouth, giving his swollen lower lip one last, gentle suckle.
He placed his shaking hands on her shoulders and slowly
pulled the dress away from her warm skin, like peeling a lychee,
creamy soft flesh revealed. He lightly flicked his tongue,
slightly tentative, to lick her shoulder, and she tasted like that
rare, delicious fruit.

He had to take his mouth off of her so she could yank his
shirt over his head and then everything suddenly began to move
very fast. She shimmied out of that dress and his brain went
into overload. Only about a teaspoon of blood was left in it
to operate all systems, all the rest had drained down to his groin,
but still, the vision of a wiggling, nearly naked Scully was sending
it into a complete system failure.

Somehow he was naked and she was naked and she was lying on
the bed beside him, reaching up...no problem...he sank onto
her, lapping her pure white cream like a big jungle cat,
purring with contentment.

"Mulder!" she broke into his feeding.

"Huh?" Please, if there was a God, don't let her be pushing
him away.

"Those mirrors!"

"Oh, uh, does it gross you out?" He tried to be sensitive.
Everything in his life right now depended on him remaining in
control of his occasionally careless words.

Her eyes shimmered with desire, her mouth was swollen, but her
voice was pure practical Scully. "No, but I want your complete
attention. Besides, I'm concerned about your predisposition for
seasickness. Let's take this elsewhere."

"Where?" He'd screw her on the White House lawn if that were
what she wanted.

As an answer, she pushed lightly at his chest and he let
himself roll off the bed, landing with a thump.

She peered over the edge and down at him, her hair now wild
with curl. "Mulder! Are you ok?"

He lay on the carpet, spread-eagle, unashamed with his naked and
aroused state, and stared back up at her, truly happy. The phrase,
'she stoops to conquer' went through his mind as he reached up for
her, pulling her gently down on top of him.

They rolled over to face each other. As he cradled her fragile
weight in his arms, he was surprised to realize he wasn't
nervous anymore. Her body felt as familiar to him as a long-
time lover's. He had been here a dozen times before.

He knew that the skin on her belly would be as soft as
doeskin, that a mole would be shyly hiding under her right breast,
that her tongue would be fit perfectly inside his ear...

Her face rolled back and forth along his collarbone, her soft
lips burning his flesh away. Her voice was the fluttering of
the wings of doves, beating gently at his heart, "Mulder,
Mulder, Mulder, Mulder..."

He wanted this to be an equal act, a partnership. He reached
down and lifted her leg over his hip. Her other leg slipped
between his long, stork-like limbs. They both sighed as he
sank into her. It felt like slipping into a warm, soothing bath,
with the heady scent of vanilla and musk.

He couldn't get any leverage in this position and he didn't
care. Could they stop time and stay this way forever? At this
moment, Mulder believed. But ever the skeptic, Scully would
examine this fantasy and shatter his tender bubble.

"Mulder..." she commanded him. She moved onto her back and he
followed. She flung her hands above her head in a wonderfully
open gesture of abandonment. It was as though she was free at
last, free of her chains.

He started rocking slowly over her, like a slave at his oar on
her ship. She beat a gentle rhythm for him to follow on his back
with her heels. He would be her slave forever.

"More, oh Mulder...I need, oh..." She drew her bent legs up
against his chest and he couldn't stop his hips from
following, increasing their rhythm.

She urged him on. "Mulder...oh God, Mulder..." He could only grunt
in response, sweat rolling off his back from his labor.

He had wanted to be a sophisticated lover for her, but his control
was gone. Fortunately, Scully seemed to be as lost as he was,
thrashing wildly under the waves of his thrusts.

He moved back and forth with a fury now, sending their ship onto
the rocks. In a howling wind and slashing rain, they crashed and
splintered apart, the storm finally dying down as they gasped for
their breath.

"Mulder?" Somewhere along the line she had created her own
language made up of only one word and all the nuances she
could put into it.

"I'm fine," he mumbled. While she was becoming bilingual in
ScullySpeak, he had acquired her capacity for understatement.

"Should we go to bed now?" she sounded unsure.

"Do you want to stay?" he was unsure for sure.

"Well, we do have that early meeting..." she was fishing, he
thought and her insecurity gave him confidence.

"If you're here, I'll be on time," he suggested.

"True." He could feel her lips forming a smile against his
breastbone.


Monday, 7:15 AM

He woke feeling a number of odd sensations. Every muscle in
his body hurt as though he'd run a marathon. His bare ass was
cold from hanging out uncovered. His dick was stuck to his
hairy leg. There was a hot little body snuggled up to him. Her
hair was tickling his nose. And he was lying in a pool of
water.

"Shit!" he growled.

"Whaaa?" muttered out of the cloud of red curls, followed by,
"Ugh!" when she came to.

They discovered that somehow the bed had sprung a leak. "Too
much action," he suggested as she struggled out of the mess,
giving him a quelling glance over her bare shoulder.

He was on the phone with his landlord when Scully came out of
the bathroom wearing nothing but her coat and shoes, her damp
dress hanging out of her pocket. "Where you going?" he asked.

"I have to go home and get ready for work, we're late
already." She pulled him from the phone to kiss him and they sank
together for a moment to enjoy the sensation of this liberty from
guilt and frustration.

When she finally pulled away, he suggested, "We could call
Skinner and tell him we're working on a case."

"Now, we can't be started out a relationship like that," she
scolded him, "Don't be a baby, we've all the time in the world
now."

That got him. "Yeah?" He grinned hopefully at her.

"Yeah." She gave him one last tender kiss as she pulled away.
"I've gotta go...see you later."

She turned back at the doorway. "Oh, I don't think I mentioned
it last night, I love you too."

That really got him. His head went light from a loss of blood and
his frame was suddenly too heavy for him to possibly hold up, so
he sank down to sit on the damp carpet, watching her coat
swinging around her bare legs as she swept out of the apartment
without a backward glance.


FBI Headquarters, 9:28 AM

Mulder never showed up to the beginning of the meeting. At the
break, Skinner grilled Scully. "Where's Mulder? This doesn't
bode well. Perhaps I'm seeing some residual work habits from
being under Kersh."

"No, sir, I mean, yes, sir. I'll go find him, I'm sure there was
just some mix up."

Her fine investigative skills helped her put the pieces
together from the evidence left in their office. Torn envelope
formerly containing his paycheck. Open checkbook, abandoned on
desk. Pen flung aside. Check stub, corner torn. He was at the
bank.

She felt a ridiculous urgent high school need to go find him.
She tried to tell herself she just wanted to make sure he was
coming to the meeting.


Craddock Marine Bank, 8th Street; 9:45 AM

She walked into the bank to enter her nightmares, the ones she
tried to burn away every day with the flame of her common
sense. Flashes of horror; a bearded man pulling a gun, Mulder
popping up like a jack in the box from the floor, a scream
alerting the thief, a shot, Mulder falling...

She could concentrate on nothing else even as she heard her
voice going through the ritual, "Drop it! Drop it now!"

She stared at this man over her gun. She must not relent. She
must disarm him and get to Mulder. His body was much too still
on the floor of the bank.

The robber had his own agenda. "You drop it," he squeaked as he
whipped his jacket open to reveal a bomb strapped to his
chest. She didn't even care. All she knew was this was another
complication that would keep her from Mulder.

She dropped her gun like a stone. "Let me go to him. I'm a
doctor." Sirens filled the air from outside the bank.

"I don't care. We're all dead anyway," the robber mumbled.

She fell to her knees beside Mulder and lifted his head into
her lap. She tore his shirt open to reveal his injury; A
single gun shot wound to the chest. She pressed her palm
onto the gurgling fountain of blood; her weight was not enough
to stop the flow. She gripped his cheek with her wet bloody
hand.

Mulder was oddly still. He seemed to be concentrating on
breathing. He did not speak. She was glad. He needed to save
his strength; he needed to work at living. Mulder's heart beat
slowly and weakly under Scully's palm.

Every beat of his heart could be divided into milliseconds and
within that time span she had all the time in the world to
think.

She wouldn't have time to test Fellig's theory. She wouldn't
have time to see if she would tire of Mulder's love or someday
forget his name. There had been only eight single hours
together, several wasted sleeping. She had felt so confident
just a few minutes ago, as though today was the beginning of
her life, truly, after 35 years.

Mulder was leaving her, just as she knew he would. He was
going to leave her alone without even a word before he left.

This hurt so much.

She was a coward. She put up a brave front, a little tough
girl with her big gun, but inside she was a sniveling coward,
hiding from anything that would hurt. But she had been right.
She had opened her chest cavity and had exposed her heart to
the world and now she was being stabbed, again and again.

This hurt so much.

She had to concentrate on saving the other hostages. She
forced herself to tear her eyes from Mulder's glazed, fixed
stare and looked up at the bank robber with the bomb strapped
to his chest.

She pushed the words out, "You're in charge here, you know. It
doesn't have to end like this." Her voice sounded weak to her
own ears.

The robber only accelerated his raspy breathing, and movement
at the bank's door caught their attention.

"Yeah, it does," he gasped out with a certain glee as he
watched the SWAT team burst through the door. His thumb came
down on the switch to activate the bomb.

Scully felt her own heart constrict in her chest as Mulder's
fluttered and stopped beneath her touch. In horror, she
realized she felt relief as the world lit and flamed, exploded
and imploded. She would only be alone for the briefest of
moments. The first piece of shrapnel pierced her body.

She was in pain. It hurt so much. She was a failure and a
coward and their love was lost.

It hurt so much. Those words were etched for all time on the cold
stone her heart had become.

She could still cry out in protest, "Noooooo!"


Number 50: Mulder heard the soft knock at the door and leapt
across the room. When he wrenched the door open, Scully was in
the act of turning away.

"Oh, you're here," she said.

Mulder furrowed his brow with confusion. "Yeah, remember, I called
you."

She looked nervous. "Oh, yes. Well, here." She shoved a package at
him.

"What's this?" he asked, worried now as he realized his plans were
beginning to crack apart like a cleaving iceberg.

"Your clothes that got mixed in with mine when we were in
Arcadia. I washed them. I kept forgetting to give them to
you...so, anyway, here they are," she stumbled to a finish.

"Thanks." He reached to pull her into the room. He had to regain
control of the situation. She stepped back far enough to be out of
his reach.

He tried persuasion. "Come in. The Scrabble game, remember?"

She moved another step back, into the shadows of the hall.
"Uh, I was thinking on the drive over. The early meeting in
the morning, remember? I should go and get some rest...so I
don't fall asleep in the meeting," she finished with a small
smile.

"Uh..." He didn't have a back up plan for her outright refusal to
enter the apartment.

"Well, bye. See you tomorrow morning. Seven am, don't forget,"
she scolded gently as she began to back away.

He was left in the doorway, leaning on the door jamb watching
the sway of her winter coat around her calves as she walked to
the elevator without a backward glance.

He finally went back into the apartment and slammed the door
shut with a bit more energy than was necessary. Damn! He was
such a coward! He should have masterfully pulled her into his
arms; sweeping aside her feeble protests with his burning
kisses...He tossed the package of laundry down and headed to his
bedroom.

He kicked off his running shoes and shed his clothes. After
pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms, he threw himself onto his
bed, the rolling motion making him momentarily ill.

He felt sometime poking him in the side. Great. He reached
under his back and tried to find whatever it was but couldn't.
Fine. He shifted over a foot and let his self-pity lull
himself to sleep.


Tuesday, 7:20 AM: Mulder walked back to his sofa with the
newspaper in his hand. He was trying to explain to Scully over
the phone what had happened yesterday at the bank. Too bad he
didn't have a clue.

"...How you knew that Bernard Oates was strapped with
explosives," she relentlessly questioned him.

"Call it a feeling," he threw out for lack of anything better.

"And it was also a feeling that he had an accomplice waiting
in the car?" She kept on.

"I don't think she was an accomplice, I think she was just
trying to get away," Mulder said to Scully as he gazed at the
photograph of Pam on the cover of the newspaper.

"Are you okay?" Scully asked.

"See you in an hour," Mulder mumbled as he clicked the line
dead. He didn't feel like talking to Scully all of a sudden.
He felt heavy headed.

Mulder put the phone down and was getting up to go dress for
work when he heard a knocking at the door. When he peered
through the peephole, he saw the distorted light bulb shape of
the sweating bald head of Mr. Kopelk, his landlord. Wonderful.

"Can I help you with something?" How much money did the guy
want now?

Kopelk swiveled the butt of a cheap cigar from the left to the
right side of his mouth. His surprisingly high voice squeaked
out. "Mr. Mulder, I've had that water thing hauled away."

Mulder shrugged. He couldn't summon any energy for an emotional
response one way or another.

"And just to let you know I'm an honest guy I wanted to return
this. I found it stuck in the mattress. Must be what caused
the leak." Kopelk held out his hand, a small object in his
pudgy fingers.

He dropped a diamond earring in Mulder's hand. He stalked away
as Mulder stared at the earring. Where had that come from?

Shutting the door, he wandered through his apartment, still
examining the earring. A curious feeling of deja-vu passed
through him.

A voice moaning lightly. "Oh, Mulder, Mulder..." He was sweeping
soft red hair away to reveal a small white shell of an ear.
His tongue found the lobe, sucking it into his mouth, the hard
sharp surface of the earring contrasting with the plump fruit
it was attached to. His tongue rolled it around, worrying it.

"Mulder..." He let the earlobe loose and looked into the eyes of
the woman, the soft blue flannel warming his heart. Scully.

Mulder stopped abruptly in the hall. Scully? He would remember
making love to Scully on his waterbed, he was quite sure of
that. It must just be his wishful thinking from Sunday night
causing these images. But...

Where did the earring come from? Was it her earring? He
concentrated on remembering her appearance that night. Up over her
dark coat, her hair deep and rich in the dim light of the hall,
her head turning away...the glint of the gems on her earlobes
under the copper curls. Yes, she was wearing diamond studs. How
did it get in his bed? He didn't think she didn't even knew he
had a bedroom.

He rolled the earring in his fingers as he hurried into his
bedroom to dress. He wanted to get to work, now. This mystery
needed investigation. Suddenly this wasn't looking like such a
bad week after all. Monday was behind him.

-------THE END--------(2/2)

AUTHOR'S END NOTES: This story comes out of the news group
discussion that perhaps the action in Monday was not triggered by
Pam but the leak in Mulder's waterbed. <G> Thanks for reading.
Send reaction to bugs1231@my-dejanews.com

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