Title:     Love in a Faithless Country 
Author:    afg
Rating:    NC-17 
Category:  MSR
Classification:  Post-Ep
Spoilers:  Fresh Bones
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit is being made.

Summary: Aberrant behavior causes confusion

Feedback: Always welcome.  siggy.63@btinternet.com
Thanks:  To the BBC for making the 'Tweenies' and the 
'Fimbles' both of which made me psychotic enough to come 
up with this fic. To Tali for her much needed help.  

This story was written for Fandomonium's 'Virtual Season of 
Smut Challenge, Season 2'

xxxxxxxxxx

"Are you okay, Scully?" Mulder asked, as he watched his 
partner massage her temple.

"Mmm, what did you say?" She glanced across at him from the 
driver's seat of their rental car as she drove them back to the 
hotel. She felt strange; her head throbbed with a rhythmic 
pulse that seemed to block out the outside world and confuse 
her internal environs to the extent that she thought her IQ had 
dropped several points. She felt dulled, blunted as though 
someone had wrapped her in wet cotton wool.

"I asked if you were okay? Do you have a headache?" 
Mulder thought that she looked pale, and her eyes looked 
unnaturally bright.

"Yeah, I think I might be getting a migraine." She mumbled 
distractedly.

"We'll be back at the hotel in a minute, you can take an 
aspirin and rest for a while." Mulder thought it quite 
likely that this case was frustrating her. It was frustrating the 
hell out of him. He never enjoyed hanging around military 
types, all that stony-faced machismo made him feel reckless. 
He always wanted to burst out singing the 'Internationale' and 
really piss them off. In fact, all institutions gave him that 
same feeling. The irony that he, himself, worked for such an 
institution had not escaped him.  

Scully pulled the car into the hotel lot. They got out and went 
inside the rather quaint old building and made their way up to 
their rooms. Scully reached her door first. As she went to 
open the door she felt Mulder's hand gently pat her shoulder.

"Get some rest; you're looking a bit pale."

"I was going to phone the Folkestone barracks and see if I 
could speak to Private Dunham, seeing as he seems to think 
that there's more going on here than Colonel Wharton would 
have us believe." She opened the door and made to step 
inside.

"Good idea, but take it easy, all right?"

"I'm fine Mulder," she said, sounding a little strained.

"Okay, Scully. I'm going to grab a shower. Let me know if 
Dunham says anything interesting." Mulder backed off. He 
knew that she hated to be babied. He watched her enter her 
room and then headed down the corridor to his own. As he 
opened the door, something fluttered down and landed at his 
feet. He bent to pick it up. It was a playing card, the ten of 
Diamonds. 

"Oh, here we go," he muttered. "More cryptic shit." 

He knew exactly what it meant, but he desperately wanted a 
shower. He'd been running about all day and he could detect 
the slight odor of boiled cabbage that he'd picked up from 
the barracks, and the greasy smell of French fries from the 
diner where they'd taken Chester. If he was going to be 
running about all night as well, at least he wanted to do it 
smelling a little fresher. He started towards the shower, 
taking his clothes off as he went.



Scully sat at the small dressing table, sorting through her 
notes, looking for the number of the barracks. The skin of her 
hand where the thorn had punctured was itching unbearably 
and expunging the nullifying sensation she'd felt earlier and 
replacing it with a prickling electricity and a sour metallic 
taste in her mouth. She felt like a buzzing light bulb whose 
filament was about to blink  out. She looked at herself in the 
mirror and gasped, shocked at her appearance. She was 
naturally pale but now she looked ghostlike, as unsubstantial
as her breath, misting on the glass before her. Suddenly her 
clothes felt constricting and heavy, too much for a being as 
evanescent as herself. She stood up and began to strip off the 
confining layers until she stood naked in the middle of the 
room, her body thrumming with tension and her breath 
panting out sharp and shallow. With a burgeoning dread, she 
recognized the feeling. Since her abduction, she'd often 
woken up in the night sweating and gasping and feeling as 
though she would suddenly disperse into her constituent 
atoms at any moment. The most horrible feeling of aloneness 
would smother her. Not just loneliness, because that would 
presume that there was at least the promise of the presence of 
another human being. No, this was much more final, to be 
totally alone, to be nothing, no one. This was anathema to 
her.

Scully had lied to her partner. She'd told him that she 
remembered nothing of the three months she'd been missing. 
That wasn't strictly true, although she couldn't remember 
where she'd been, or the names and faces of her captors; she 
did remember sensations. They would come back to her in 
the jigsaw of her dreams or even worse, in little flashes of 
horror during her waking hours. She would suddenly, just for 
a second be back in the brittle white room, with its smell of 
latex and Lysol and the feeling of hands prodding and 
poking, the sting of the needle, the whine of the drill or worst 
of all, the push of cold metal inside her. All the while 
surrounded by the cloying feeling that she was totally alone. 
Ever since she had woken up in the hospital, bloated from 
whatever poison they'd pumped into her, she hadn't been able 
to shake that feeling. She couldn't talk to her family about it. 
It was as though they were embarrassed to discuss it. She 
could hardly pipe up with "Hey Mom, remember when I was 
abducted by a shadowy faction of the government and 
experimented on?" They just weren't that kind of family, 
especially since her father and brothers had been in service to 
that very same government. Her own feelings of betrayal 
were enough to bear, without adding her family's in to the 
mix. 

With Mulder it was different. Other than initially wanting to 
know concrete facts, he never brought up the subject.  She 
knew why, partly it was due to the fact that she, herself, was 
so guarded on the issue but also she knew that he somehow 
felt complicit in her abduction. If he'd only been more 
explanatory about the mire of conspiracy that was his life, 
she would have been more prepared for such eventualities. 
This was all nonsense, of course. She would not have heeded 
his warnings anyway, because back then she still believed in 
her country, she still believed that essentially, the 
government was there to protect its citizens, to have their 
welfare at its heart. She almost laughed at the paradigm shift 
she had undergone in the last few months. As it was, Mulder 
was the only person with whom she felt any degree of 
comfort; somehow he lessened the isolation and, at least at 
work, she could distract her mind from the endless questions 
humming in her brain.   

Now here she was, stuck in a North Carolina Hotel room, 
trying desperately to hold it together whilst the universe spun 
away from her.  She'd tried so hard not to need people and 
now she found herself shaking like a junkie, the need to 
connect with someone, anyone, was a physical pain in her 
chest. She hunched over, resting her hands on her thighs, 
trying to get her breathing under control. The fear that she 
would wink out of existence at any second, burning like acid 
in her veins.

"Mulder," she whispered.

Only just having the presence of mind to don her robe, she 
rushed to the door and opened it. As she looked out, the 
corridor seemed to stretch on to infinity; bending and 
distorting like some insane Mobius strip. Scully gathered 
the last of her courage and, with the thought that she'd just 
sacrificed her pride on the altar of her fear and that right 
now she didn't care, set off down the interminable hallway.


Mulder brushed his teeth over the bathroom sink. He had one 
of the thin, white hotel towels wrapped low around his hips. 
Little droplets of water still trickled down his lean body, 
glinting like tiny jewels in the fluorescent light. He jumped as 
he heard his room door being opened and then it slammed 
closed again.  He dropped his toothbrush in the sink and went 
to investigate.

Mulder walked into the bedroom to find his partner 
trembling and looking as white as a sheet. Her back was 
pressed against the door, her eyes closed and her fists 
clenched at her side. 

"Scully, what's wrong?"  

At his words, she opened her eyes and pushed herself off the 
door and started to walk towards him.

"What's going on? Jesus, Scully! What the hell are you 
doing?" Mulder was stunned as he saw her fingers untying 
the sash of her robe; he watched slack jawed, as she shrugged 
off the garment, leaving it to pool on the floor. His whole 
body tensed as she reached him. Her arms went around his 
waist and she pressed herself tightly to his body. He could 
feel her breasts pressed against his upper abdomen, her 
nipples hard as cherry stones. Her cheek was against his 
sternum and he knew she must be able to hear his heart 
beating wildly. He didn't know what to do with his hands as 
he held them hovering over her shoulders.

"Hold me?" Mulder heard her whisper tremulously.

"Shit, Scully, please tell me what's going on?" Mulder 
pleaded as he grasped hold of her shoulder to try and separate 
them a little. She tightened her hold around his middle,
refusing to comply. "Look at me, Scully." He moved his 
hands to her head, and gently tried to lift her face for his 
scrutiny.

"Mulder, don't ask me to explain, I can't. I can't talk about it 
now. Just be with me," she said quietly, resisting his efforts.

Mulder gave in and wrapped his arms around her body and 
held her tight. He could feel her trembling ease. Suddenly he 
realized that she was peppering his chest with gentle little 
kisses and he jerked as he felt her wet tongue slide across one 
of his nipples. 

"Whoa, Scully, stop, this isn't you, you don't know what 
you're doing." His hands were back on her shoulders, pushing 
her away a little more forcefully.

"Mulder, I'm more myself now than you will ever know," she 
said, finally bringing her gaze up to his. "For all the times 
I've never asked for your help, I'm asking now. Be with me. 
Love me, Mulder. Please, I need you."

Her words felt like a punch in the chest. He held her at arms 
length and looked into her eyes.  What he saw there made 
him re-evaluate everything he thought he knew about his 
partner. Her pupils where dilated, obscuring much of her 
irises. The blackness was an endless void and as he felt the 
vacuum slowly sucking him in, he understood that he was in 
the presence of a woman he'd never met before. This was raw 
Scully, uncut and pure. He felt his body rise, as he looked at 
her standing naked and achingly beautiful before him. She 
was as brave and fearless as he'd ever seen her. He finally 
understood what it must have taken for her to be here with 
him like this. He knew she'd changed since her abduction. 
Gone was the cocky, slightly smug young agent and in her 
place they had returned a woman with much of her softness 
pared off, leaving behind the more concentrated essence of 
her nature. Mulder often wondered if the bastards that had 
done this realized what they'd brought back to that hospital. 
He thought they must not or they would never have let her 
live. It would be the greatest of ironies if she proved to be 
their Nemesis.

"I don't want you to be sorry, Scully. I couldn't bear it if you 
left me over this," Mulder said, his eyes dark with need, as he 
brought his hands up to cup her face, gently brushing his 
thumbs over her cheekbones.

"I won't leave you, Mulder." She understood his fear. She 
couldn't promise not to regret this action, but however things 
turned out, she knew it would not make her leave him. She 
didn't think anything could. She only wished that she'd come 
to him whole and beautiful, and not the damaged, frightened 
woman she now saw herself to be.

"I couldn't bear it," he whispered as he brought his mouth to 
hers.

Scully watched him whilst he kissed her. He was so beautiful; 
his eyes the color of black tea and just as warm. She moved 
her hands over his back, long and lean; lightly tanned skin 
moving over hard muscle. She felt the roughness of the towel
 pressing against her over sensitized skin. She slowly 
unwrapped it from around his waist and it dropped at their feet. 
She felt his heat pressed against her stomach, removing the 
chill from her body.

Mulder moved his hand to the back of her skull, his fingers 
running through her hair, feeling its softness. Their tongues 
met and slowly caressed. He felt the constraints of time slip 
away from him, his heartbeat slowed and his normally noisy 
brain, quieted. All was softness and silence and the taste and 
texture and smell of the woman loving him. He backed up, 
bringing her with him until he felt the backs of his knees 
touch the bed. He moved his mouth to her throat, lowering 
himself down on to the edge of the bed, drawing her close to 
stand between his legs.

Scully missed the contact with his body, but let him take his 
time looking at her. She felt his gaze as a tangible thing 
moving over her face, her collarbones, over her breasts and 
stomach, down to the empty place between her thighs and 
suddenly she didn't feel so broken.

"Don't cry," he said, smoothing his hands over her lower 
back.

Scully touched her cheek to find it wet. She watched as a tear 
fell to Mulder's thigh. 

"They're good tears, Mulder." She smiled down, gently 
touching his lips with her salty fingers.

"That's all right then," and he kissed the tip of each finger. He 
took hold of her hands and drew her forward to straddle his 
lap. He felt the softness of her thighs against him and the 
warm rush of pleasure as her groin met his.

Scully's hands went to his face, one sliding round to the nape 
of his neck the other caressing his rough cheek as she kissed 
him. She sighed as she felt his hand cup her breast, his thumb 
slowly stroking her.  His other hand moved to knead her 
bottom and to pull her tighter to him.

She didn't want to wait any more; she needed him to be as 
close to her as possible. With him she was earthed, her earlier 
feelings of transience had dissipated, leaving her with a dull 
throbbing behind her eyes and an emptiness that she knew 
would soon be remedied. She raised herself up, her hand 
moving down his chest and belly to gently grasp his 
hardness.

"Now," she breathed into his mouth as she lowered herself 
down on him until she was filled. She felt his hands on 
her hips as he urged her in to a slow, undulating glide. His 
body met hers in all the right places and she put her lips to 
his ear. "Beautiful." 

Mulder had had sex before; he had even made love a few 
times, but he had never done this. This was something so 
foreign to him he had no language to describe it, and so 
he didn't try. He relaxed into the motions of their bodies, the 
feeling of coalescence, of bonding, was overpowering. The 
thought that he may never experience this again brought tears 
to his eyes; it was such a visceral thing. He held onto Scully 
as though she were the last good thing on the planet. His 
mouth on hers, he could feel the muscles in his stomach 
tightening as his body began its ascent to completion, the 
sudden dead quiet as in the eye of a hurricane and then he 
was there, holding her tight to him as he bloomed in her 
depths.

Scully felt his pleasure as he he crushed his mouth to hers in a 
fierce kiss, her body must have been on a relay switch with 
his because she felt herself follow him, her orgasm like a 
bursting bubble of pure light expanding within her.

They sat still, holding tight to each other, as they recovered. 
Neither of them not sure of what to say, now that calm was upon 
them. Mulder hoped she wouldn't withdraw from him, yet he 
knew that it was quite possible that she would.

"I'm not sorry," she said quietly, realizing by the tension in 
his body that he had started to worry. "I still can't talk about it 
though, Mulder. Please don't try to make me." She was 
worried he'd start to ask too many questions that she wasn't 
rational enough to answer right now.

"I won't, but after this case is over we need to talk, Scully. 
You understand that, don't you?" He didn't want her to shut 
him out as though this had never happened.

"I promise we'll talk all you want, when we get home."

"That's all I wanted to know." He smiled and kissed her 
lightly on the lips.

They disentangled themselves and Scully walked over to her 
discarded robe and slipped it back on, whilst Mulder hunted 
around for a fresh pair of boxers.

"How's your headache, Scully?" he  asked as he slipped them 
on.

"Not so good, but I'll take a couple of aspirin and have a hot 
shower and I'm sure I'll be fine," she replied, scratching her 
hand distractedly.

"Is your hand sore?" Mulder walked over to her and took a 
hold of her hand, turning the palm towards him. "It looks like 
it might be infected."

"Maybe. I'll put some antibiotic cream on it after my shower. 
Then I'd better phone the barracks about Dunham."

"Okay Scully. I'll see you later?" 

"Yeah," she went to the door and opened it. "Mulder?"

"What?" 

"Thank you," she said, looking at him.

"What for?"

"For being here."

"Anytime, Scully." He  wondered if he should tell her about his 
upcoming clandestine encounter, but then he didn't want to 
expose her to any more nameless men who just might not 
have her best interests at heart. Anyway, he'd be there and 
back before she knew it. It just didn't seem worth it for the 
worry he would see on her already too pale face. He smiled at 
her, feeling guilty. "Anytime at all."    

The End


End Notes.

Just in case there are any Richard Thompson fans out there 
going "Look at that! The rotten moo has nicked one of our 
Richard's song titles." Well, of course they would be 
absolutely correct. However if they had seen what this story 
was originally called, I think even they might forgive me.
    
afg