TITLE: LET THEM AUTHOR: COHESION24 E-MAIL: cohesion24@aol.com Disclaimer: They're not mine. Rating: NC-17 Spoilers: Pine Bluff Variant Categories: VRA Please archive at Gossamer. feedback to cohesion24@aol.com Pure mind candy, homespun for your enjoyment. Mil gracias go to Jenn. xxxxxxxxxxxxx Sometimes Scully felt like nobody even noticed that she and Mulder were partners. If they did, they'd know just how inextricably bound they two were. She shifted in her seat on Mulder's sofa, trying to find a comfortable position but coming up empty. Seething fury set her body aflame, every hair standing on end and blood coursing through her veins with an almost painful intensity. What pissed her off most about this debacle was that nobody -- my God, even Skinner! -- saw fit to inform her of their plans for Mulder. She could almost understand Mulder's reticence; he had his foibles, the chief of which was a secrecy which astonished her especially after the nearly six years they had spent together. But that she would be kept in the dark by her superiors infuriated her. Even though this was meant to be a "deep cover" operation, it did impact their partnership, and hadn't the F.B.I. always insisted that partners must be on the same page at all times, even under the most dire circumstances? Those bastards trusted Mulder, with his blatant suspicions of the government, but they couldn't trust her to keep their fucking secret? Sitting still became too much to handle. She stood abruptly, knees popping with the jarring action, and began to pace his living room. Stopping in front of his fish tank, she watched them swim aimlessly, oblivious to the tension outside their glass world. Shooting fish in a barrel -- the old adage seemed ridiculously apt at that moment. She was a fish swimming around, a pawn just as much as was Mulder in this macabre game. Trying to still her nerves and find an outlet for her anger, she removed the plastic cover and shook some food into the water, then watched it swirl around as the fish swam furiously to the surface. Her weight shifted on one block heel and she pivoted around as the sound of keys jangling in the lock filtered through the door. Scully watched him walk through the doorway, then into the room where she waited, a tiger poised for fight or flight. Mulder shook his hand slightly as he walked, a grimace spreading over his face. Her anger evaporated. She called out to him not to be alarmed -- Scully could already tell he was in such a state of paranoia that any unexpected motion could set him off. At the end of the day, what they said to each other didn't matter. Actions were what she would remember about that evening. She rummaged through his freezer for some ice for his finger, then grabbed a rag to hold it. The chill of the ice coursed through her nerves, fighting with the fire boiling within. Her earlier anger with their superiors was replaced by a different sort of anger: fury with the coterie of inhuman monsters who would do this to a man to prove his loyalty, and fury with him bearing it. But the pain on his face laid her fury to rest, replaced by a highly charged pity and sympathy, her need to protect and comfort him outweighing any hotheaded passion. Of all the bizarre things kept in his apartment, a splint was the last thing she would have expected to find. But surely enough, one was in a first-aid kit under his bathroom sink, and she wrapped it around his fingers with care, her body absorbing each flinch he made while she ministered to him. His voice was harsh in the darkness. "I know what you're thinking. Why did I let them do this to me? I didn't have any choice. It's all part and parcel for the game." The game. How suitable. These people didn't play with plastic pawns resting on a colored cardboard map. They played with people's lives. Not just the terrorists, but the highers-up who seemingly saw nothing wrong with letting Mulder into the lion's den when it suited their supposed "national security" interests. She wanted to destroy them all, inflicting her wrath on the people who would do this to them, time and again. She wanted to destroy the parts of her and Mulder who allowed them to do so. But all she could do was fight fire with fire. Scully never answered his question. An answer wasn't what he needed, nor would it assuage any of her mistrusts. Instead, she lay her hand on his, the barrier of cubed ice separating them. They stared at each other for a very long moment, neither making a sound. Their faces twitched with the need to act, to let their bodies scream "fuck them all!" in defiance of the choices made for them, the choices which tried to destroy them. Defiance made her narrow her eyes and purse her lips. Defiance made her shift her body so it pressed up against him. Defiance made her push forward and tilt her face up until her mouth was covering his with a fast, frenetic motion, teeth clashing with his full lips and the suction of her mouth on his promising bruises. The first reaction she felt from him was shock, but then he leaned into her, nearly toppling her over onto the hard floor until she shoved out her arms, bracing herself against the back of his sofa. Her body undulated wildly on top of his, as she grasped him everywhere, on shoulders, arms, chest, the only rational thought being that she had to take care of his hand. Mulder began to move his arms up to crush her to him, then his entire body shuddered violently with the movement jarring his left hand. Stopping her motion, she took his left arm in her hand and placed it on the sofa, then glanced back up at him. Through the inky darkness, his face urged her on. Under her breath, she swore, "Fuck them all" as she pulled her knees up to crouch on either side of him. Under her breath, she swore, "Let them *try* and do this to us" as she grabbed at his shirt and her fingers clawed their way up his strong, shaking chest. Under her breath, she swore, "We don't need them" as she ground her hips against him and felt his cock beneath his jeans. Under his breath, he swore, "Yes, Scully. Let them" as he pressed his hips up into her, giving her silent permission to take what was hers, what had always been hers. What they could never take from him, from them. One hand worked its way down to his zipper and yanked it open with a desperate motion, then, her other arm braced on his shoulder, she somehow managed to undo her own pants and yank them down just enough to give him entry. He stared at her, his mind a blank slate of shock and drunken arousal, as she grasped his shaft in one hand and pumped her palm up and down it several times before guiding it into her. Her hips pressed downward, downward, until he was buried within. She clenched her inner muscles around him, claiming ownership. Let those bastards try and take this from the two of them. Let those bastards try to sublimate her and destroy him. Let them. It was nearly over before it started, but then she could cast aside romanticism when necessary and seize the moment. He ground into her and she pulled him into her until their bodies shuddered with each movement, composure long discarded. Mulder's good right hand clutched her back, keeping her from falling, and he brought the left one, still chilled from the ice, to the back of her neck, pulling her face to his. She shivered from the cold, and her teeth chattered around his probing tongue as they wrestled with each other in an erotic union. One more lift of her hips then she slammed back down onto him, her muscles aching from the effort as he emptied furiously into her, his hips bucking into her own. As he shook furiously beneath her, he somehow managed to bring his left hand from her neck to her clit, pushing up, chilled fingers meeting hot flesh. She collapsed above him, a grimace of pure pleasure cast on her face. They sank back against the sofa together, still connected, their bodies spent with passion. She knew what still needed to be done -- he needed to take charge of his situation and she needed to show Skinner and that C.I.A. bastard that she was still a player and would always be. But they allowed themselves a period of recovery, as his lips played along her ear and she buried her face in the crook of her neck, fighting back tears of frustration and pain. And love. Always love. Let them try and defeat Agents Mulder and Scully. Let them. They would fail. THE END cohesion24@aol.com