TITLE: LAPSE OF REASON AUTHOR: DONNILEE E-MAIL: Donnilee@snet.net WEBSITE: http://donnilee.tripod.com RATING: NC-17 CATEGORY: MSR SPOILERS: None really. TIMELINE: Happens near the end of Season 6. SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully race against time to find a kidnapped Langley, discovering things about their friend that they never knew. DISCLAIMER: All characters used from the show The X- Files, are the property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. No copyright infringement intended. No money made here. THANKS: To my ever-diligent beta reader, FatCat, who has yet to tell me to go pound sand, even when I mercilessly overload her. XXXXXXXXXX PART 1 (PG-13) LONE GUNMEN LAIR ALEXANDRIA, VA JULY 1998 - TUESDAY We hustled in through the door, as the last lock was unsecured. I followed Mulder, wondering what this was all about. We'd received an urgent call from the Gunmen in the middle of our workday. Due to their standard paranoia, they refused to say anything over the phone, except that was urgent. We pulled off our trench coats and Frohike hung them on a coat tree by the door. I shivered a little. It was cold and rainy outside, not exactly the kind of weather you wanted to be running around in. "What's going on?" Mulder asked. Byers entered from the kitchen and waved us onto the old, ratty sofa. We sat down, waiting. Frohike and he both wore grim expressions. "Come on guys," I prompted. "What's up?" Byers walked up to Mulder and handed him an envelope. "This was taped to the door this morning when we got up." Mulder took it and flipped up the open flap and pulled out a single piece of white lined paper. In halting script it said: "We've got your pal. Have the family gather $500,000 -- We'll call with further instructions." I read over Mulder's shoulder and then looked up at Byers. "They're talking about Langley?" I asked. Byers nodded. "He went to bed the same time we did. At some point, someone must have either called or knocked and I didn't hear it. I checked the computers for the security system and it shows that it was deactivated at 3:02 AM." "I don't get it," Mulder said. "Langley wouldn't open the door for a stranger." Frohike nodded. "No, he wouldn't, which means someone we knew came to that door." "Or someone HE knew," I emphasized. They both nodded. "You know, I feel like an ass. The things you DON'T KNOW about your friends," Frohike said. "What's that mean?" Mulder asked. Byers wore a sad smile. "We never really dug into Langley's background. We took him at his word. We check everybody out, and here, we never checked out each other." Mulder said, "I thought his family was from South Dakota, farmers of some kind." "So did we," Frohike said. He turned and went to the printer next to one of the many computers set up along the wall. He came back with a small stack of papers and handed them to Mulder. Mulder handed the envelope and note back to Byers and began reading what Frohike had handed him. I moved close reading over his arm. I realized my breast was pressed into his forearm and shifted away. Mulder smirked at me, glancing out from under his lowered lashes. "Aw, it was just getting good," he teased. "Read," I said in the sternest voice I could muster while trying not to smile. This was no time for joking. The first sheet was a dossier on Robert Nelson Langly II, apparently Ringo's father. He was a businessman who ran, of all things, a gun factory, making assault weapons for the defense industry and the military. His estimated worth was two billion dollars. I whistled low. The next sheet was on his mother, Caroline Roche Langly. She didn't work, surprise, surprise. She was a society dame and there was a list of various charities that she worked for. The family owned a penthouse in Manhattan, a home in Toronto and a home in Hilton Head, South Carolina. Big bucks. They wintered in South Carolina and summered in Toronto. His father was often on business trips to New York, at which time he stayed in the penthouse in Manhattan. Ringo had two brothers and a sister. His older brother was forty-two, and was being groomed to go into the family business. His name, not surprisingly, was Robert Nelson Langly III, better known as Robbie to differentiate him from the old man. Next came his sister, Wendy, who was now 40 years old. She had become a corporate lawyer and worked for a prestigious firm in Manhattan pulling down a reported $150,000 a year. She'd been married to one, Charles Hostein, but was now divorced with no children and had taken up her maiden name again. Then came Ringo. His real name was Richard Roche Langley. He was thirty-seven. There was no attached dossier. The fourth sheet was on little brother, Wendell, now thirty-four and a stockbroker on Wall Street. He was married to Christina Rinaldi, thirty-two. She worked as a bank manager of one of the Wochovia branches in Manhattan. They had two children, Thomas and Theresa, five and seven years old, respectively. We looked up and saw Byers and Frohike's expectant faces. "Wow," I said. "Yeah, wow," Frohike said. He'd told us about the siblings, but only bare bones. We had no idea they were all so successful." "What happened with Ringo?" Mulder asked. Byers sighed. "That's the thing. We're not sure. As long as he's been with us, he's never once contacted his parents or any of his siblings. We dug a little further into the siblings and there was nothing really unusual, other than the fact that they are all very bright. Being the pretentious shits they are, of course, all the kids were tested for IQ and given a battery of other developmental tests when they were younger." "Did you find those results?" Mulder asked. Frohike nodded. "Yeah, and ironically, Ringo is the smartest of the bunch. He has a 150 IQ. The rest of them range from 120 to 135." "Have you contacted the family?" I asked. "No, we were waiting for you. We just found this note two hours ago." "You want us to take this to the guys in kidnapping at the Bureau?" Byers looked confused. "I don't know. I don't want to endanger him. We have no idea what this is about." "Okay, how about this?" Mulder began. "I call the parents and tell them what's happening. See what kind of shape they are in for liquid cash," he suggested. "Even when you're rich, a half million dollars is a lot of cash to come up with. This note gives no indication of how much time we have." We all agreed and Mulder went to the phone on one of the desks. "Any line in particular I should use?" Byers walked over and pointed to one of the phones. Mulder looked at the dossier on Robert Langley and dialed the number. Byers reached over and turned on the tape recorder. XXXXXXXXXX CABIN - SOMEWHERE IN THE WOODS JULY 1999 - TUESDAY EVENING I'd been in this room for hours. They'd knocked me out somehow. I'd never even seen it coming. The buzzer had gone off on my nightstand, letting me know someone was near the building. The motion sensors set it off. Sometimes it was just an animal, but I was half awake anyway, so I decided to check it out. Upon reaching the door, I'd peered out through the security camera lens. I couldn't see anything but then a baby started to cry. "What the hell?" I'd whispered. Without thinking it was a ruse, I began opening the locks and dead bolts on the door and turned off the security. For a second, I thought about waking the guys but decided to see what this was all about first. To my credit, I'd picked up a baseball bat before opening the door. I stuck my head out into the blackness and saw nothing. There was a motion sensor on the corner of the building, about ten feet away, and I heard the baby cry again. There was an odd quality to it but I figured if I were lying in the rain, I'd be pissed too. I'd stepped out, holding the bat out to my side and crept toward the corner of the building. I looked over the ground. As soon I saw it, I knew I'd been had. There on the ground was a portable cassette tape player, playing the sounds of a baby. I jerked back, spinning toward the door. Blinding pain exploded in my head as something hit me from the rear and everything went black. I don't know how long it had been, but some time later, I'd awakened in this sparse room. The window was boarded up. There was a bed, a chair and a wooden TV tray. I could tell it was a log cabin, but that was about it. I'd tried the door, of course, but it was securely locked with three different dead bolts. I would have to be Hercules to break it off the doorjamb. I'd searched the room and found nothing I could use for a tool. I could hear the rain outside but had no idea how much time had passed. I lay back, wondering what this was all about. Hearing the snick of the dead bolt had me sitting bolt upright on the twin mattress. I swung my feet onto the floor and stood up. I thought about hiding behind the door but whoever it was, came in fast. He was holding a gun, a .22 automatic pistol of some kind, by the looks of it. His other hand held a McDonald's bag. My mouth watered and my belly rumbled as the smell of artery-clogging burgers and fries reached my nose. He was about five feet, ten inches tall, had black stringy hair and brown eyes. His complexion was ruddy, like someone that drank regularly. He wasn't bulky but wasn't skinny either. I could tell there was wiry strength in his limbs. He wore ratty jeans and a blue tee shirt. A skull and crossbones was tattooed on his bicep. "Hello Ritchie," he said. I peered at him. He looked familiar but I couldn't quite place him. "Do I know you?" I asked, trying not to look at the gun. I fucking hated guns. "Awww, you don't remember. I'm hurt." "Too fucking bad," I blurted out. He threw his head back and laughed. "Still the rebel, I see." "Who are you and what the fuck is this all about?" I asked, wincing as I gingerly touched the lump on the back of my head." "Sorry about that. I didn't hit you very hard." "Hard enough," I commented. He nodded. "Well, Ritchie, you see, I find myself in a jam, a little short on cash." I didn't say anything. "So me and my buddy, Roth, decided to find someone that might be worth some money." "Roth?" The name rang a bell. "Roth Owens?" I asked. He was a bully from high school. "The very same." "Oh my God. Kevin? Is that you?" He smiled. "Very good. I knew that IQ would kick in eventually. Must be the bump on the head that delayed you. Here, eat something." He handed me the bag and I ripped it open. I opened the box and dove into the Big Mac, nearly moaning with relief. He watched with an amused expression on his face. "What do you want?" I asked with my mouth full. "Money of course." "I don't have any." "Oh, I know you don't. I've been watching you for a while. Quite the set-up you have there in Alexandria. Despite that it was surprisingly easy to lure you out, wasn't it? All that security and one little tape of a baby crying and you forgot all about taking precautions. Locks only keep honest people out anyway." "You still haven't told me what this is about. I don't have any money!" "No, but your family does. We've already told your buddies to contact the folks and get a half a million together. I'll be calling them tomorrow with more instructions." I snorted. "You think my parents are going to pay a half million dollars to get ME back?" "Why not?" "You should have kidnapped my brother, Robbie," I said ruefully. "Him, my father would pay for." "What are you saying?" he asked. "You're in for a big disappointment." XXXXXXXXXX PART 2 (PG-13) LONE GUNMEN'S LAIR ALEXANDRIA, VA JULY 1999 - TUESDAY Mulder dialed the Toronto number, hoping the elder Langly would be home and not in Manhattan. If not, we would try his business and his home in New York. "Hello, Langly residence." The voice sounded into the room from over the speaker phone. It was a woman with a Spanish accent. "Hello, may I please speak with Robert Langly?" Mulder asked politely. "Sr. or Jr.?" she asked. "Senior, please." "Who's calling?" "Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI in the United States," Mulder said with authority. "Uno momento," she said quickly. The line went blank and canned music filled the room. "Jesus, they have music for putting people on hold," Mulder commented. About thirty seconds went by. Finally, a man came on the line. "This is Robert Langly. Agent Mulder? Carmella said you're an FBI agent?" "Yes, sir. We have a situation down here in Alexandria, Virginia." "What's in Alexandria, Virginia?" he asked. Mulder paused, wondering if the man truly didn't know. "Your son, Richard, lives here." "Oh, is that where he ended up?" "Yes, Sir. The thing is that early this morning, we estimate around 3:00 AM, he was kidnapped." "Kidnapped? What on earth for? The boy is worthless." I saw Mulder's hands clench on the receiver. "Sir, this is serious. The kidnappers have asked his friends to contact the family and arrange for $500,000. We expect them to call with further instructions. His friends called the Bureau." "A half a million dollars? Are they out of their minds? They must be idiots." "I take it you don't have that kind of cash." "No, I don't, but even if I did, why on earth would they think I'd give it up for Ritchie?" Mulder took a deep breath, struggling for calm. "Sir, he's your son." "Not anymore. I washed my hands of him a long time ago. Your kidnappers must not be very smart. If they were, they would know that I disowned Ritchie a decade ago." "Meaning he's not in your will?" "That's right, or anything else. I wanted nothing to do with the worthless, little slacker. Kid was a genius, could have been somebody if he'd pulled his head out of his ass and looked away from a computer for two seconds." "Sir, he's still your son. I need to know if you're willing to negotiate or cooperate with these kidnappers." There was silence for several moments and then the man said, "No." The line went dead and we all stood looking at one another in stunned confusion. Frohike looked like he was about to chew bullets. Byers looked like he might actually cry. I felt tears sting my own eyelids. "Jesus. How could anyone be that callous?" I asked. "I have no idea," Frohike said. "It was a rhetorical question," I added. I glanced at Mulder. He carefully replaced the receiver and walked back over the couch. "I know exactly who he is. I grew up with people just like him. They don't give a shit about anybody but themselves. As far as their kids go, if they do what they are told and make them proud, they are okay. If not, they are worthless. By proud, read that: successful enough to give bragging rights." We all nodded. "I get it intellectually," I said. "Emotionally, though, I don't know how anyone could abandon their child." Mulder reached out and took my hand, smiling sadly at me. "Time for Plan B," he said. Byers raised his eyebrows. "We have a Plan B?" Mulder nodded. "Yeah, I'll pay the ransom." "WHAT?" Byers and Frohike both cried out. Mulder smiled and said calmly. "The things you DON'T KNOW about your friends, huh, guys?" XXXXXXXXXX CABIN - SOMEWHERE IN THE WOODS JULY 1999 - THURSDAY Kevin entered the room again with the ever-present pistol and handed me a bag, this time from Burger King. I sat on the bed and began to eat. "Guess you were wrong," he said idly. I looked up at him and he was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Seems they are going to pay," he crowed. I choked on a French fry. He laughed. "Daddy may have disowned you, but I guess he doesn't want you dead." "Dead?" I asked, fear gripping me deep in my gut. I felt my bowels rumble. "I threatened to kill you if they aren't at the drop site tomorrow at 3:00 PM." "Who called you? Frohike?" "That little troll? Nah. I called them first, but since then we've been in touch directly with the great Robert Langly himself." "You're shitting me?" I said, clearing disbelieving. "Oh yeah. He said it would take a couple days to get that kind of cash together. I can respect that. So, I gave him till Friday. Said he'd be there." "Where is the drop?" "That's a little too much information for now. Suffice it to say that daddy said he'd be there, with money in briefcase." "He'll have the cops with him, or the bills will be marked," I said. "Nope. He promised no cops and he promised no marked money." "And you believed him," I stated, my tone indicating I thought he was an idiot. "Yes, I did. You don't seem to think Daddy cares about you." "Because he doesn't. One thing he does care about is money though. I can't believe he's going to risk that kind of money without some chance of getting it back." "Well, I'm about to call him right now. Want to listen in?" "Yes," I said. He sat on the bed next to me, setting the gun down. I wondered if I could lunge for it. He saw me eyeing it and picked it up and set it on the chair across the room. "Don't even think about it." He pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number: 202- 347-1102. I scrunched my eyebrows and then tried to school my face to be passive. That was a downtown D.C. number. The asshole didn't even know where he was calling. I watched the caller I.D. light up; 'Langly R.N.'. Although there was slim chance my father could be in D.C. and this was a hotel number, I doubted it. Even then, it wouldn't read his name. Maybe it was cell phone. I heard the line click, as Kevin pushed a button on top of the Nextel phone and put the call on speaker. "Hello?" "Mr. Langly. I'm just calling to confirm our plans for tomorrow." "3:00 PM, Arlington Cemetery. I'll be there." I had to force myself not to smile. It was Mulder. The asshole was calling Mulder's cell phone or a new one he'd gotten. Somehow the guys must have rigged it to display my father's name and initials. Clever, I thought, mentally giving them a high five. I couldn't help but feel a dart of pain, disappointment that it really hadn't been my father. "No cops and no marked bills, right? Because I suspect anything, and I'll pop old Ritchie here right in the head. I got no problem with that," he bragged with bravado. Mulder's voice was calm and dignified. He really could act when he wanted to. "I've given my word and that should be enough for a scumbag like you." "Oh ho! Now I'm scumbag, huh?" "You're extorting money from me; that puts you in the scumbag column." "It's the money you're worried about?" he asked slyly. "Of course," Mulder said, playing the part to perfection. I had forgotten he grew up around society people that his folks were much like mine. I hoped I made it out of this mess, and if I did, what were the guys going to say? I hadn't really lied to them but I'd omitted an awful lot of information. "No funny business, or your son is a goner." Mulder sniffed indignantly. "I understand. Let's just get this unpleasant business over with." "See you then. Oh, and Mr. Langly?" "Yes, what now?" "Don't be late," he said with finality and hung up the phone. He turned to me grinning. "See?" I knew the whole thing was a ruse now. What to say? I braced myself for the lie. I was never any good at them. "Maybe I was wrong. He obviously cares about money. Maybe in that pruned up heart of his, he still has some feeling for me. Who knew?" I said, trying to sound flippant. Kevin laughed and retrieved his gun. "See you tomorrow, buddy. Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." I bit my tongue to hold back the tears that suddenly stung the backs of my eyelids. 'I will not cry,' I told myself. I took a deep breath as the door clicked closed behind him and I heard the dead bolts being thrown. I blinked and felt a tear slide down my face. "Shit," I muttered. XXXXXXXXXX PART 3 (PG-13) ARLINGTON CEMETARY ARLINGTON, VA JULY 1999 - FRIDAY It was really hot out here. As much as the guys had wanted to be involved, we decided the risk was too great. These kidnappers might not be smart, but you didn't have to be too bright to fire a gun. Since they'd threatened Langly's life, I assumed they would be armed. Scully and I had broken down and called the boys and girls in kidnapping at the Bureau. After the initial lecture on not contacting them right away, they'd agreed to help. Agents Jerry Foster and Lisa Claridge were heading up a team of four other agents that were scattered around the cemetery, acting as mourners at gravesites. I was standing in the corner of Lot 64, where Bradley Drive and Marshall Drive intersected, as instructed. I was dressed in a suit and carrying a metal briefcase. The top layer was made up of stacks of $100 dollar bills. The rest was newspaper. I hoped if I had to show it to him, the idiot wouldn't know the difference. They had brushed gray into my hair at the temples and did a make up job that gave me wrinkles. It was amazing. I really did look 10 years older. I got a glimpse of what I'd look like in ten or fifteen years. I just hoped this guy didn't know what Langly Sr. looked like. It had only been five minutes, but I felt like I'd been standing there for an hour already. Then I saw a rangy-looking man coming toward me. He was moving with exaggerated care, glancing at tombstones. Not a very good actor. He had black hair, bushy eyebrows and a face pitted from the acne of his youth. He was wearing jeans and a tee shirt over a dark blue windbreaker. He glanced around, noted the few agents in the cemetery. We'd cleared it of civilians. A command post van was parked out on the street. I couldn't see a car or vehicle he might have driven from here. The tiny microphone in my ear hissed to life. "Here he comes, Mulder." "Got him," I said softly. I shrugged my shoulders and shifted my weight from leg to leg, trying to appear slightly nervous. Finally, he turned and made a beeline toward me. I stiffened and kept my eyes on him as he approached. "Mr. Langly?" he asked. I nodded once. "You're on time, I like that." "I don't give a damn what you like. Where's Ritchie?" "He's safe. I need to see the money." "Not good enough. I see my son or you can go straight to hell," I hissed. He smirked and looked over his shoulder. "I guess that can be arranged but I see the money before I hand him over." "I see him before I hand over the money. I have no way of knowing if you still have him." "I haven't offed him," he said casually. "Prove it," I said, feeling sweat bead up on my brow. I swiped at it with my sleeve and he smirked again. I hoped he took it as a sign of my nervousness. "Follow me," he said, turning on his heel, and walking away without a backward glance. I let him get four or five steps ahead of me and said softly, "We're on the move. Amateur hour." "Got you," a soft voice sounded in my ear. I was wearing a wire and the dumb fuck hadn't searched me or checked me for a weapon. I took off after him, consciously slowing my stride. I didn't want to look eager. I had a mic in my ear, a wire on my chest and a gun in a holster under my armpit and this numb nut had seen none of it. Definitely an amateur. We traversed the whole section of cemetery and stepped out onto Patton Drive. He took a right on the sidewalk and I followed. I lagged back a bit and spoke into the mic under my collar, "Headed down Patton toward the Circle." Patton Circle was ahead of us and I could see a white van parked on the far side. As we got closer I could see it was a panel van with no windows. The guy glanced back at me, his first attempt to check and see if I was following. When we reached the circle he held up a hand to signal someone in the van. The side door opened and I caught a flash of blonde hair. Langly lurched toward the door and hollered, "Dad!" He was forcefully yanked back inside and the door slammed. The guy turned to me, smiling, looking smug. "Okay, let's move over here by the fence." I followed him to wrought iron fence off to the edge of the sidewalk. "Set the case down." "So you can grab it and run and take off with my son. I don't think so," I said. His smile turned into a sneer. "I need to see the money." I saw what looked like a gun barrel press against the nylon of his windbreaker pocket. I had no way of knowing if it was real or not. I knelt down and set the case on the ground, making sure I set it down with the little pencil mark facing up. It marked the side with the bills. I carefully clicked open the latches and cracked open the case just enough so he could see the money. "It's all there. Now bring Ritchie out." The perp's eyes lit up and he reached for the case, bending his knees. I slammed it shut and latched it, picking up the case and backing away. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he asked. I stopped. "Nowhere. I want my son. Now! Go get him, bring him over here and you can take the case." "How do I know it's all in there?" he asked. "You just saw it. I'm not an idiot." The guy nodded, satisfied. Definitely amateur hour. He said, "Don't move. Someone else is watching. You run and they cap your boy." I nodded, trying to look nervous. It wasn't hard. Despite the fact that the guy was an idiot, this could go bad. I glanced left and saw a couple of agents, walking the sidewalk at a brisk pace. They were going to flank the van. I glanced right and saw two more closing in from the other direction. I talked into the mic. "Easy, make sure the target is within my grasp before you move." "We hear you," a soft male voice said. The side door slid open again and another man emerged. This one was bigger and beefier than his buddy. He was wearing a wife-beater and jeans and scuffed work boots. He pulled Langly out of the van so hard, he stumbled. My contact flanked him, said something to Langly. I watched Langly nod and look up at me. The beefy guy had a hand on Langly's bicep and kept it there as they marched him across the circle toward me. I watched them approach and said, "Show time, wait for my signal." They stopped about ten feet from me. "Here we go," the skinny guy said. "Signed, sealed, delivered. Now hand over the fucking money. No more dicking around." "You got it," I said, setting down the briefcase behind me. "What are you doing?" "Little insurance. Ritchie and I go that way," I said, pointing up the sidewalk to my right. The kid looked around briefly, considering, wondering if it was a trick. I stepped to the right away from case. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist grabbing it for long. "Let him go," I said to the big guy. Beefy guy looked at the other one for permission. The guy nodded and the beefy guy shoved him toward me. My left arm shot out, circling his waist and I spun, putting him behind me at the same time I drew my weapon with my right hand. "Target secure, GO! Langly, RUN!" I instructed. I spun back, bringing up my weapon as the kid was just standing up with the suitcase. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed. Beefy man started to panic and turned and ran toward the van. "FBI, hands in the air!" I bellowed. "You mother-fucker!" The guy dropped the case, and spun. As he ran, he tried to extract, what I assumed was gun from his pocket but it was caught up on something. I took off after him and hollered, "Gun! Right pocket!" By now, one team was on the van and yelled, "Van clear!" They closed in on the guys. The van team brought down Beefy dude and had him cuffed by the time my guy cut right in front of the van before reaching it. He headed up Patton Drive and cut left onto Arnold. That's where I caught up with him. He had his gun out of his pocket by now but was running full tilt. I took a flying leap and tackled him, throwing my weigh to the right. We tumbled off the sidewalk and landed in the grass, marginally softer than the cement sidewalk and rolled. I had a longer reach and got a hold of his wrist. "Drop the gun!" I screamed right in his face. "It's over!" He struggled for a second but then went limp, dropping the gun. I heaved up onto my haunches and rolled him onto his stomach, yanking his arms behind his back. I ripped the cuffs out of the back of my belt and fastened them onto his skinny wrists. "This sucks," he muttered. "Yup. Not your lucky day, Scout." XXXXXXXXXX PART 4 (PG-13) LONE GUNMEN'S LAIR ALEXANDRIA, VA JULY 1999 - SATURDAY We sat around and ate pizza while Langly spilled the story about this family, which we'd already surmised from our research. I looked at Mulder and he was staring at Langly. Yesterday had seen the two guys booked and jailed without bail. Langly had given the approximate location of the cabin and the Bureau guys from kidnapping had found it within two hours. The guys had not been careful and left enough evidence to hang themselves. "So that's it," he said. "That's it?" Frohike said. "Why the hell did you lie to us?" "I didn't lie. I just didn't volunteer any information." "Why didn't you want us to know?" Byers asked, always the more controlled of the trio. Langly shrugged. "I've always been embarrassed by my family, what gigantic assholes they are." Frohike frowned. "You think we would judge you based on your family?" He was clearly more hurt than Byers by Langly's omissions. Langly hung his head. "At first maybe. Then it just went on, and by the time I knew you guys well enough to know you were true buds, I wasn't talking about my past anymore. I just let it ride. I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone. Call it a lapse of reason, okay?" Frohike sighed. "No more secrets, all right?" Langly nodded, looking forlorn. Mulder said, "We're not angry with you, Langly. I guess we just didn't understand at first. Secrets can be deadly. We wasted quite a bit of time tracking down your family." He nodded again, clearly not knowing what to say. "Thanks, Mulder. At first I wasn't really scared once I knew it was those bozos that had me. Then, Kevin seemed to get nuttier as the hours and days went by. I really was scared by the end of the whole ordeal. The other one always was a bully." "Any time, buddy. That's what friends are for." Langly looked up. Unexpectedly, I saw tears in his eyes. "My father wouldn't come for me, but you did. Guess that says it all right there, doesn't it?" he said quietly. I stood up and went to him, holding out my arms. He stood up off his stool and embraced me. "Thank you too, Scully. You guys are the best." I gave him a squeeze and then backed off. "We need to get going, guys," I announced. Mulder gave me an odd look but I raised my eyebrows at him and he relented. We gathered up our mess and threw away the paper plates and then went out to the car. Once inside I said, "I think they needed some time alone." "No problem. I was ready to go anyway. I'll take you home. We've had enough excitement for the week." I smiled and we made the rest of the trip in silence. Once at my place, I said, "Why don't you come in for coffee?" Mulder looked surprised but pleased and said, "You haven't had enough of me yet?" I grinned. "Not yet, I'll let you know." He followed me inside and I started a pot of coffee. We retired to the living room and took up opposite ends of the couch. He had a pensive look on his face. "What's on your mind?" I asked. He gave me a half smile but then it disappeared. "I don't know. Just thinking about things." "What things?" I asked, curious now. "Life, death, friends, how quickly it can all go to hell," he concluded. "I'm not sure what you're getting at. I mean, I understand what you're saying, but I'm not sure what the point is." "The point is that we waste so much time being worried about what other people think. Look at Langly. Who would think he gave a rat's ass what anyone thinks of him. Yet, he hid his past from his two best friends. In fact, they wouldn't have cared. They don't care now. They care more about the fact that he didn't tell them, than the fact that his family is a bunch of snobbish morons." I huffed in sympathy. "Yeah, I get you." He looked at me. "Are we wasting time, Scully? Worrying about things that don't really matter in the long run?" I met his gaze now and asked, "What do you mean?" He deflated and shrugged. "I don't know. Coffee ready?" "Probably," I answered. I stood up and headed for the kitchen. I heard him rise to follow me. After I poured the coffee and fixed it, I turned around to find him leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded over his chest, one leg cocked casually up on the toe of his sneaker. "What?" I asked, not able to interpret the look on his face. "I've spent a long time not doing something because I'm afraid of what others think. I'm afraid of losing what I have, taking risks," he began. I motioned to head back to the living room. He took his coffee mug from me and followed me back to the living room. We sat down again and I watched him, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, I asked, "You gonna tell me the rest?" I could tell something very serious was on his mind. He wanted to tell me but wasn't sure how I'd react. Now I was seeing the build up, his mentioning Langly's reluctance to share. He cleared his throat. "Sometimes I want things that maybe I don't think I deserve. Or maybe, I'm just afraid to ask for them." "Like what?" He turned to look at me after taking a sip of his coffee. "It's all about relationships," he said cryptically. "You're losing me, Mulder," I informed him. He sat quietly for a few moments. I could tell he was gathering his thoughts. Finally he asked, "Are you happy, Scully?" I scrunched my brow in confusion but then decided to roll with it. I thought about it for a couple of seconds and then said, "For the most part." "Explain," he said simply. "I enjoy our work. I like being an FBI agent. I have a nice apartment. I'm happy with what I've done with my life." "Are you?" he asked, not unkindly. It was my turn to shrug. "Are you asking if I have everything I want?" He nodded. "No, I don't know that anybody has everything they want. The secret to happiness is being happy with what you have." "You think so?" "Yes." "Hmmm," he hummed, contemplating my answer. "What about you?" I asked. "Are you happy?" "No," he said with surprisingly quickness. "You're not?" I asked. "What aren't you happy about, satisfied with?" "Besides the obvious?" he asked. "Well, yeah. I know it bugs you that we've never found what we're looking for. I know it breaks your heart that we've never found your sister." "Yes, that's true but that's not what I'm talking about?" "You gonna make me guess?" I asked. He smiled softly. "I'm talking about my personal life." "What about it?" "I'm lonely. I'm tired of going home alone every night." He turned to look at me, his gaze intense. "Tired of going to bed alone every night." I gulped. "I'm sorry," I whispered, not sure what else to say. He stood up and walked to my window, looking down at the street. I stood and joined him at the window. "I miss that too, Mulder, being a part of something. I do think that there's someone for everyone though. You'll find her when the time is right." "I already found her," he said quietly, not looking at me. "You did?" "Yup, long time ago." "Why aren't you with her?" I asked, feeling a pain in my chest at the thought of him loving someone else. Was it Diana? Some other mystery woman? The corner of his mouth rose slightly. "I am with her in a way." "In a way?" I asked softly. His smile grew. "Just not the way I want. That's why I'm unhappy." "Why aren't you with her in the way you want to be?" I asked, nearly choking on the question. He turned to look at me then and it seemed those hazel orbs were drilling into my soul. "Because I'm afraid of what other people with think. More specifically, I'm afraid of what SHE will think." 'Was he talking about me?' I wondered. My heart began to race as he continued to stare at me. "What are you afraid of?" "Rejection," he said easily. "I don't see how anyone could reject you, Mulder." "You don't?" he asked, an odd expression on his face. "No. You're a handsome man; smart and sexy. I don't see why any woman wouldn't want to be with you." His eyes flared with something indefinable. "You think I'm handsome, smart and sexy?" he asked, a quirky tilt to his lips. I licked my lips and nodded. "Sure." He was still staring at me. "What about you?" he asked quietly, his voice dropping lower. The sound of it sent a shiver down my spine. "Me?" "Yeah, you. I appreciate you humoring me, but the bottom line is that it's easy to compliment me, boost my ego. You're living proof that a woman wouldn't want to be with me." "Says who?" I heard myself blurt out. Oh boy. He was really staring now. "Would you reject me, Scully?" "What do you mean, specifically?" I asked, stalling. He looked amused. "Would you reject me if I made a pass at you?" he asked. "Why are you asking me this?" I countered. He smiled then. "You know why." "No I don't." He licked his lips and I found my eyes drawn to that plump lower lip. I glanced back up at him. He'd noticed, damn it. "Answer the question," he said firmly. I felt my breathing quicken and said, "What was it again?" He stepped closer to me, his hands reaching out and cupping my neck. They slid up the sides of my head, his fingers burrowing in my hair. I shivered visibly. He lowered his face closer. "Would you reject me?" I opened my mouth to stall some more and found I didn't want to. Instead I asked him, "Who is she?" He smiled, looking amused again. "The woman I've found?" he clarified. I nodded. "Yeah," I said simply. He lowered his head, his mouth an inch from mine. "Would you reject me?" he asked again, ignoring my question. I could feel the heat rolling off him in waves. His eyelids had grown heavy. I stared into his eyes and saw that they were dilated. Oh my God, was he aroused? I glanced down and almost jerked out of his grasp. A respectable tent was forming in the front of his jeans. I looked up again and he was positively grinning now. He lifted his head away from me a bit and I sighed in relief. Or was it disappointment? "Answer me, Scully. Once and for all, answer me. If I touched you, would you reject me? I have to know." I blinked slowly and opened my mouth. I couldn't lie to him. I just couldn't, not when he asked me direct questions. "No," I whispered. "I don't think I could," I whispered, feeling my insides turn to jelly. My hands began to shake and I balled them into fists. He stepped closer, pressing his chest against mine. I swallowed a moan that wanted to escape. I knew he heard it but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't have pulled away at the point if my life depended on it. XXXXXXXXXX PART 5 (NC-17) DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT GEORGETOWN, D.C. SATURDAY EVENING "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asked, his lips brushing my forehead like butterfly wings. "What do I do?" As if I hadn't interrupted, he continued. "The way you make me ache every time I have to leave you?" My arousal was so sudden I nearly fell over. 'What the hell was going on here?' I wondered. "Mulder, what are you talking about?" I asked quietly, trying to lock my knees against the desire to let them buckle. "The way I live for the next touch, the next smile, the next hug." "This doesn't make any sense!" I exclaimed quietly. Somehow I was unable to draw enough breath to speak in a normal tone. His fingers trailed softly over the skin of my neck, making me shiver. My heart sped up and began crashing into the wall of my chest. "The way I anticipate the next time I can hold you like this, the next time you let me in, so I can feel the tingles running up and down my spine, just from having you this close." His warm breath wafted over my neck and his lips brushed my earlobe, creating said tingles in my own spine. I whimpered, or I thought it was me. I opened my mouth to respond, not even sure what I would say. "Do you know how much I want you?" he said, his voice now low, raspy, and so damn sexy I felt light headed with need. "We should talk," I managed to squeak out. At the same time his teeth scraped gently over my earlobe and my knees gave up the fight, buckling beneath me. His arms banded around my waist, holding me upright and tight to his body. Then I felt it as he slowly but firmly pressed his iron hard erection against my belly. I felt my juncture flood with a gush of wetness and warmth in response. Jesus, I had to get a grip here. Why couldn't I control my body's response? It was maddening. This was not right. I couldn't remember why, but I knew there was a reason. His hands slid back up to cup my cheeks and he looked into my eyes. I thought I would drown, watching the specks of gold swirl around and darkness turn to a bright green. His pupils were dilated and his breathing was quietly ragged. "I need you, Scully," he croaked, his lips now brushing across mine. "Need isn't enough," I protested, in a last ditch attempt to stop this so I could think. He just smiled at me, indulgent, his eyes gleaming and said, "How about love then?" "What?" I whispered. He held my gaze. "You heard me." "You said you need me," I repeated dumbly. He nodded. "Now I'm telling you that I love you," he answered without hesitation. His eyelids grew heavy but he didn't break his stare. "Mulder, I can't think when you're this close," I stuttered. His smile widened. "Good, I don't want you to think anymore." "What's that supposed to mean?" I muttered. God, I was so confused. His nose brushed mine as he moved even closer. His lips brushed against mine as he said, "It means I just want you to feel." He tilted his head and pressed his warm, dry lips against mine. I gasped and his tongue slid easily inside. Instead of the frantic claiming I'd expected his slow, gentle probe took me off guard. He was insistent, but still asking permission. I knew that if I told him 'no', or said the word, 'stop', he would back away. I realized at that moment that I hadn't said either of those words. Why not? A moment of clarity hit me and I realized I hadn't said them, because deep down, I didn't want him to stop. My reluctance was a test of his resolve, and that was hardly fair. He was the one taking all the risks here. He worked my mouth thoroughly, taking his time, exploring and savoring the kiss. I was fast realizing that kissing Fox Mulder was probably one of the greatest pleasures I'd ever known. How could I have forgotten how good it felt to be held by a man? How could I have forgotten how good it felt to be wanted and kissed? I hadn't really forgotten although the memories were dim. The difference was the man doing the wanting and kissing. Everything was different this time. They hadn't been Mulder, plain and simple. They weren't even in the same league as Mulder. His right hand sliding down to cup my ass cheek and giving an unexpected squeeze startled a moan from the back of my throat and I gave up the last bit of resistance. He was right. I did way too much thinking. For at least this one night, I was going to feel, I was going to find out what I'd been missing all these years by holding my feelings at bay. I was going to find out if Mulder was as good a lover as I'd always imagined him to be. So far, so good. He seemed to sense my yielding and his left hand found my other ass cheek. He lifted me carefully and I wound my legs around his waist. He looked over my shoulder so he could see where we were going as he walked into my bedroom. His razor stubble tickled my neck and made me shiver with anticipation. He was so warm. I didn't remember men being so warm. It was like embracing a living furnace. He sat me gently on the edge of the bed and stepped back. His gaze met mine. There was still a question there. "Scully, you know what I want," he began. "I just don't want you to wake up with regrets tomorrow." I held his gaze for a few moments, smiling awkwardly. "I'm not going to tell you I'm not nervous," I replied. He smiled wryly. "I'm terrified." I scrunched my brow. "Of what?" "Screwing this up," he said bluntly. "You don't seem very scared," I accused in a teasing voice. He chuckled and looked at the ceiling, his hands rubbing my shoulders. "My desire is overshadowing my fear, but I am afraid," he admitted as his eyes met mine again. Somehow that admission made it better. To this day, I have no idea why. Knowing that he wasn't as confident as he looked, knowing that he had his doubts too, somehow made what he was doing all the more brave. I swallowed noisily and took a deep breath. "I don't know if this is right, Mulder." He frowned and dropped his arms. I could feel him pulling away mentally, even if he was still standing right in front of me. My heart felt squeezed in my chest. "Scully," he started to say. I cut him off. "I want this, Mulder." His eyes widened and he licked his lips. "Do you?" "Yes, I've wanted it for a long time, I'm just scared," I admitted. "Will you regret it?" he asked. "There will be consequences, if that's what you mean," I replied. I was trying to sound reasonable and failing miserably. "I know that. That's not what I asked." He knelt down on the carpet between my legs. His big hands ran up and down my thighs. "Will you regret it?" he asked again. I knew what he was asking. We both knew that we would have to deal with the consequences of consummating our relationship. The question wasn't about consequences or dealing with them. If we wanted to, we both knew we could make it work. The question was did I want this enough to stay the course? Was I sure enough to know that in the morning, I would cherish the memory and not regret it? He watched my face as I processed all this. Finally, he said, "I can take just about anything, Scully. I don't, however, think I could take hearing you say you regretted being with me. I don't think I could stand to hear the word 'mistake' come out of your mouth." He paused. "Not about us," he ended quietly. "It won't," I said, before I could stop myself. "I need you, Scully, but not for the reasons you think. I don't need you because you make our work easier, although you do. I don't need you to keep me honest, although you do." He paused again. "I need you in my life, Scully, because I love you. This is too important to me." Now what was I supposed to say to that? How could I say no? The one thing I'd always said to myself was that no matter how close we'd come to giving in during the past close encounters, he'd never told me he loved me. The one time he did, he'd been drugged. It was a cudgel I'd used to ward off all reasons to be with him, to keep him at arm's length, to not take the risk. He'd just smashed that club in half. I reached out and ran my hands through his hair. It was soft, silky, and thick all at the same time. He shivered visibly and stood up. "If you don't tell me to stop in the next five seconds, I'm not going to stop," he warned me. He waited, probably counting off in his head. When I made no response, he smiled, and began to unbutton his shirt. I was about to view paradise and didn't even know it. Now, I knew Mulder had a well-toned body. I'd seen it in various states of undress over the years. I certainly knew that he was sporting one of the finest asses I'd ever seen wrapped in Armani. I hadn't seen him unclothed in any way for about a year and what slid into view as his shirt slipped off his shoulders took my breath away. XXXXXXXXXX NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXX I literally gasped. The man had been working out. While always well toned, his muscles were much more defined than I remembered. His chest was bulkier, his stomach not just fit, but a cut six-pack of muscle. His shoulders were broad and tapered into a lean waist. He unbuckled his belt and his jeans sagged on his frame, showing me his hip bones covered in boxer briefs. That had always been a spot of particular fascination for me on the male body. He kicked off his sneakers and proceeded to strip while I sat there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open. I snapped it shut for fear I would drool, seeing as how my body had gone temporarily numb with shock. I mobilized my two remaining brain cells to work together and raised my hands to my blouse. His voice startled me. "Uh, uh, no." I stopped and looked up at him again. "I want to do it," he said huskily. I dropped my hands to the bed and swallowed a moan as he dropped his pants, showing the bulge in the front of his boxer briefs, which were hugging thighs that were much bigger than the last time I'd seen them. 'How in the hell had he gotten this buff without me noticing?' I wondered. "Your suits still fit?" I asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words were out of my mouth. "I had them altered," he said without arrogance, and almost a sheepish shrug. "Christ," I whispered. "You like what you see, G-woman?" he asked, a tremble of trepidation in his voice. "Hell, yes," I whispered. He grinned then, his insecurities seeming to flee. He stepped forward and sank to his knees again, reaching for the buttons on my blouse. His lips went straight to my neck and teasing me with butterfly kisses as his nimble fingers unlocked the secret of the small buttons on the front of my blouse. Considering my minor motor skills of the moment, I don't think I could have managed. I was soon divested of my blouse and my bra was sliding down my arms. He dove for my breasts, his hands cupping them firmly, and his mouth encircling the right one and suckling the nipple. I threw my head back and moaned, deciding my efforts to keep quiet were a waste of time. My moan seemed to invigorate him and he moved faster, unfastening my slacks and pushing me onto my back. "Lift," he requested. I raised my hips and he slid my slacks and panties down all at once, stopping briefly to pull off my shoes and socks. Now I was naked and he was still wearing his boxers. "No fair," I panted, waving at the front of his boxers. He smiled and leaned over me, planting his hands on either side of my head. He smiled and began to kiss me. I lost all sense of time and space as I felt his hands burn a path over my skin. He began at my neck, working down my arms, over my breasts, down my sides and swirling his thumb in my navel. All the while, he kissed me until I couldn't breath anymore and was wiggling under him on the bed. I felt myself being jostled and let it happen. Next thing I knew I was in the center of the bed, my head on a pillow and his naked hips were lowering themselves between my legs. 'When had he taken his boxers off?' I wondered. We kissed some more and my hands explored the rippling muscles under my palms, brushing over his back, eliciting a moan when I dragged my fingers over his nipples and another when I squeezed his ass. His erection was hot and hard and pressing into my thigh. Without warning, he rolled over and levered himself into a sitting position at the side of the bed, his legs over the edge and planted on the floor. He scooped me up as though I weighed nothing and maneuvered me into straddling his lap. For the first time I looked down and all the breath left my body. There he was, the essence of what made all men male. It was long and thick and pointing straight at my most sacred place. I felt wetness trickle down my thighs and was almost embarrassed until I saw the look of anticipation on his face. "God, Scully, please." I wrapped my arms around his neck and my lips found his earlobe, nipping gently and then licking to soothe the bite. He groaned loudly and bucked his hips up involuntarily at the same moment I sat down. He embedded his cock in about an inch with that move and I shrieked in pleasure. It had been a long time and my walls stretched deliciously to accommodate his more than adequate equipment. "Oh Jesus," he muttered, his eyes rolling back in his head. His hands gripped my hips tightly, holding me in place as he breathed through pursed lips and fought for control. He began letting me slide down again once he had control. I fell forward onto his chest and buried my nose in his neck. I took a deep breath and lifted slightly, trying to relax and adjust. I was trembling so badly I could barely breathe. This was it. I was going to make love to Fox Mulder. He slipped in a bit further with the next stroke, my juices lubricating his shaft liberally. My nails sank into his shoulders and he grunted, but didn't seem to mind. He held still for a few seconds and then let go of my hips. Relieved of their support, I sat down fully, and felt him press deeply inside, pushing up on my cervix and making my insides spasm. We hung there, frozen in time, savoring the moment of our first full penetration. Finally, he groaned loudly and said, "So tight, oh Jesus, it's so good, Scully." Encouraged I began to post up and down on his magnificent shaft, impaling myself slowly but steadily. As my muscles relaxed, I sped up, angling my pelvis against his and bringing pressure to my clitoris. My breasts pressed tightly to his chest and his sprinkling of chest hair tickled my nipples into hard, aching points of desire. He shifted and lifted one breast, suckling me again and I totally lost control, lifting myself and slamming back down on him, feeling his balls press against my rear entrance. The feelings were exquisite as I felt the climax coiling in my belly as my nerves and muscles tightened in anticipation. "I'm not hurting you, am I?" he gasped out. "No, give it to me," I whispered back. "Awww, shit," he groaned and began to buck up into me with more power. I cried out and clung to him, riding, matching him stroke for stroke. He was in so deep, I couldn't tell where he stopped and I started. His hands moved to my ass and rocked me up and down, back and forth with greater speed. The sounds of deep, wet fucking filled the room and it was music to my ears. He ground into me and I came without a lot of warning, shrieking and crying out with my release. "Oh, God! Muullddeerr! Yes!" He growled deep in the back of his throat and rammed himself deep inside. I felt his cock pulse and then it was emptying liquid fire inside me. XXXXXXXXXX END NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXX He slumped against me and we fell sideways. He rolled onto his back, keeping himself inside me. We panted for a long while till we came back down to earth. He lifted his head, opening sleepy eyes. The smile he gave me was one of utter joy and contentment. I didn't think I'd ever seen that exact look on his face and it suited him well. I fluttered my tongue, purring like a cat and he chuckled low, hugging me tight to his chest. "I love you, Scully." I hesitated but then knew the time for hesitating was over. "I love you too, Mulder." He lifted my chin with two fingers and looked into my eyes. "What did you say?" I smiled. "You heard me." "Can I hear it again?" he asked. "I love you, Mulder." "Oh, thank God," he whispered, and he hugged me fiercely, wrapping his big body around mine. His grip loosened and he asked the dreaded question. "No regrets?" I shook my head, my hair brushing his damp chest. "No regrets, Mulder." "Good. You're like an angel to me, Scully." "You're my hero," I countered. He laughed silently, his belly bouncing and threatening to spill me off onto the bed. He pulled up the covers around us and said, "Sleep now. I need to gather energy so I can take advantage of you again." "Take advantage?" I teased. "What if I want to take advantage of YOU, instead?" "Bring it on, baby. Bring it on," he replied cheekily. THE END.