"Miasma" by MoJo 1/1

Category: MSR
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Sure, just please slap the MoJo on it wherever it goes.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.  They are property of CC, 1013 and
Fox.
Spoilers: Detour, Amor Fati, Millennium, general.  Set a couple weeks after
Millenium.
Summary: Scully accepts a certain influence in her life. 
Author's Note: Inspired by my love of typography.  Miasm is a font at
www.fontfreak.com.  Deepest, sincerest thanks to fellow font-fic writer Jori
for her Ebert.  A little smut to warm up these cold, January nights.

Archive of Font-Inspired Fanfiction:
http://www.netroenterprises.com/stories/font.html
MoJo's site: http://members.aol.com/mojober/index.html


Arcata Marsh and Wildlife Sanctuary
Arcata, CA
9:25 p.m.

******

They'll be calling off the search for tonight.

I lean against a redwood as I catch my breath.  The air is cold and damp,
filling my lungs with moisture.  A very low, very thick fog has settled over
the area, making the visibility practically zero.    

Over the last few months seven people have disappeared in the marshlands of
north Humboldt Bay.  Three turned up dead, poisoned by an unknown toxin.  Two
were found near death in a state of delirium.  The last two are
conservationists missing since Tuesday.  We joined the search this afternoon,
hoping to find who or what is responsible.

Only a handful of wastewater treatment plants use a marsh as a means of
processing waste and Arcata is one of them.  Constructed in 1949, the
wastewater plant released unchlorinated primary treated effluents into the
Arcata Bay. The kind of pollution that carries suspended solids, BOD's, and
possible pathogens.

Around me, the fog grows even thicker and now I can't see anything else but
white clouds.  Through it, dimly, a pinhole of light breaks through.  I reach
instinctually for my sig.  I point my flashlight at it, holding it flush with
the gun.

"Scully!" calls out a voice.  "Is that you?"

"Mulder!" I respond, lowering my weapon a bit.  "I'm at twelve o'clock.  Keep
walking straight!"

"I'm surprised I found you," he says as his tall form emerges from the fog.  "I
was about to add your name to the victim's list."

Relief washes over me as he approaches, grateful it's not something
preternatural.  I had enough reanimated corpses on New Year's Eve to last a
lifetime.  This apparition wearing FBI blacks and tall boots, same as mine.  We
are both covered in mud and muck from traipsing around the marsh.  

"Any luck?" I ask, as Mulder walks up to me.  We've been out here for four
hours now to no avail and the hopes of ever finding Jamie Larson and Natalie
Fisher alive are diminishing.    

"Not in this fog," he answers, putting his hands on his hips and staring me
down.  He is panting hard as if he'd been running; a thin sheen of sweat covers
his forehead.  I can smell the musk of his cologne rising off his skin.  "It
just settled in so quickly."

"This *is* a marsh," I remind him, arching my neck so we are face to face.  "A
tract of low, wet soft land prone to condensed water vapor."

"Yes, but apparently a fog of this density is rare," he says, carefully
surveying the swirling clouds.  "We might not even make it back to the
rendezvous point."

It's a good five-mile hike back.  I shiver at the idea of spending the night
out here alone with Mulder.  Wouldn't be the first time we would have to brave
the elements together.  And once again, neither one of us has a sleeping bag.

"I'm just glad it was you at the end of that flashlight," I say, with a slight
smile.  "I didn't want to have to report any strange lights."

Mulder lets out a tiny laugh at that comment as he shoves his flashlight in his
pocket.  I shine mine underneath his chin, casting dark shadows across his
handsome features.  There is a cohesion to our relationship lately that allows
this interaction.  Our world didn't end on January 1st, in some ways it just
begun.  His hand wraps around mine to move the flashlight under my chin
instead.  In the process, he takes one step closer and further closes the gap
between us.  

"In the foothills of Missouri, there's a legend of strange lights found on a
marsh similar to this one where people disappear and reappear with no
recollection of what happened," Mulder whispers, falling into lecture mode. 
All that's missing is his slide projector.  "Coincidentally, in southern
Florida's wetlands similar events have been documented."

"But were there any toxins in their lungs?" I counter, raising my eyebrow
suspiciously.  

"I'd have to check the file," he replies, as his fingers slide from my hand to
my face.  He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, practically caressing my
lobe.  It sends a shiver down my spine.  Ever since he came back from the land
of lucid dreams, Mulder is more physical than ever as if he's trying to affirm
by touch what is real and tangible and within his grasp.  

"Three conversationalists are dead," I state, forcing my mind to focus on the
real reason we are here.  "This *isn't* an X-file, Mulder.  It's a case for the
EPA.  This area used to be an ocean side landfill.  Who knows what toxins might
still be lurking in the soil or the vegetation?"

Mulder keeps staring me in such a way that I know he didn't hear a single word
I said.  His fingers linger on my face, patiently waiting for something.  His
eyes burn with intensity into mine. Around us, the marsh is completely silent
and the only sound I hear is my heart pounding loudly in my ears.

"Is it warm all of a sudden or is it just me?" Mulder queries, his lips part as
he breathes in and out through his mouth.  

"It's about 40 degrees and humid," I mumble, remembering the forecast off the
AM radio at the rendezvous point.  My skin flushes over, but it has nothing to
do with temperature.  It has to do with proximity.  Mulder's proximity to me.  

"That wasn't my question," Mulder states.  I am frozen still as he traces the
curve of my cheek.  Suddenly, I feel my head spinning wildly and I focus on his
mouth.  I wet my lower lip, remembering the kiss that welcomed in the New Year.
 It's soft pressure lingered in my mind for days after.  

"It's warm," I stammer, swallowing hard.  His eyes are now dark and unsettled. 
"I'm warm, actually."

"You're flushed," he says, dipping his fingers lower to touch my neck and
clavicle.  It happens when I'm nervous, excited or aroused.  Maybe all three in
this case.  His touch is too gentle and deliberate to be out of concern for my
body temperature. 

I feel my lips separate and I start to breath through my mouth as well.  The
humid air saturates my throat and clings to my lungs and physically I can feel
its weight.  I see Mulder exhale white as he leans in.  

Suddenly, the flashlight is impossibly heavy and I let it slip from my fingers,
hitting the ground with a thud as it rolls away.  It's dark in the space
between us and I am pinned between the tree and Mulder.  I don't know what's
happening between us, but I know I'm powerless to stop it.

He closes his eyes slowly and I do the same.  I can practically taste his lips
on mine, although they have not actually made contact.  In the space of a
single heartbeat, they will be.

"Agent Mulder, this is Deputy McCory. Over!" squawks a voice in the silence. 
The spell is broken and my eyes fly open.  Mulder takes a couple steps back and
pulls out the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt.  

"Mulder, over," he answers, as I slowly sink to the ground and retrieve the
flashlight.

"We're calling off the search for tonight before I start losing men out here. 
Over," McCory states, short and clipped.

"I've located Agent Scully and we're heading back now.  Over," Mulder says, as
I take a few steps back.  I struggle to regain composure of my thoughts and
feelings.

"We'll see you at the rendezvous point.  McCory out," he says before fading off
in a crackle of static.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to clear my mind.  Mulder stares at me as if
wanting to say something about what just happened, but he is quiet as he
fumbles for his flashlight.  We didn't say much after Dick Clark dropped the
ball either.  

"We have to get back," I say, struggling to speak.  I wave my flashlight around
to get my bearings.   

But all I see is white.

***********

Mad River RV and Hotel
Arcata, CA
11:15 p.m.


The hot water soothes my tired neck muscles and I rotate my head around,
letting it hit various pressure points.  The units in this hotel are set up
like tiny cabins; four per structure and Mulder is on the other side.  I must
be using all the hot water allotted for all the rooms.  The mud and residue
from hiking around the marsh spins slowly down the drain, along with my common
sense and professional ethics.  All I can think about is Mulder's hands on my
face and the look in his eyes and what we were about to do before we were
interrupted. 

The faucet squeaks loudly as I shut off the water.  Pushing the cheap plastic
shower curtain back, I reach for a towel.  I dry my face first before wrapping
it around my body, tightly fastening it over my left breast.  The mirror fogged
and I wipe a section clean so I can towel off my hair.  

I study my reflection, struck by the darkness in my own eyes.  I think I always
knew it would come down to this eventually.  We fool ourselves into thinking
we're above the laws of nature, but we aren't.  I felt its power in the marsh
tonight and it has left me vulnerable.  How did I ever fight it this long?  

I turn off the light and open the door, hit with a sudden rush of warm, dry
air.  I cranked the heater up to high so it would be comfortable by the time I
got out.  I want to crawl naked under the covers and sleep for twelve hours
straight, hoping my unconscious mind will sort out my feelings for me.  I turn
the corner to do just that and find a body sitting in the center of my bed.

"Mulder," I gasp, taken by surprise.  My hands fly protectively to where the
towel is tucked.  "What are you doing here?"

He is wearing only his T-shirt and jeans.  His gun holster snakes around his
body, silhouetting his toned arms and chest.  He must have taken a shower as
well, his hair is slicked back in wet spikes and he smells deliciously clean.

"I know what's out on the marsh, Scully," he breathes, leaning back on the bed.
 His eyes travel up and down my body slowly.  I feel my cheeks flushing again
and I shiver as the hair on my arms stand straight up.  My nipples harden
beneath the towel.  

"What is it?" I ask, taking one step closer towards him.  

"Miasma," he replies, the word slipping off his tongue like an incantation. 
"The vapor we encountered tonight.  Physically, it is said to poison the air. 
On a more spiritual level, create an unwholesome atmosphere or influence.  The
Wiyot Indians who used to inhabit this region have documented similar events
dating all the back to the late 1800's."

He seems unaffected by my lack of clothing, as if it doesn't concern him in the
least.  Mulder has seen me naked before, once in a shower in fact.  But this
isn't some cold detox facility; this is my warm hotel room and he's lying on my
bed.

"Do you feel any different, Scully?" he asks carefully, rolling over on his
side with all the grace of a cat stalking its prey.

"Different how?" I ask, swallowing hard.  My eyes wander freely over his supine
form, studying every angle and plane. Wondering how well my own body would fit
into his.

"Any headaches?  Dizziness?  Nausea?" he recites, pretending to be concerned
about my well being.  I don't think that's why he really came here.  All of
this could have been said over the phone from the comforts of his room.  

"No," I answer, as water drips off my hair.  I feel each and every droplet
sliding down my shoulders, back and arms.  My body yearns to be touched in
those areas, as well as other places that are awakening each second.  "Do you
feel any different Mulder?"

"Actually," he starts, in a low gravely voice.  He crawls forward on the
mattress so he is near the edge, just within arm's length of me.  "I am feeling
the effects of an unwholesome influence right now but I'm not sure if has
anything to do with the miasma."

My breathing quickens as he comes even closer; his fingers play with the edge
of my towel.  I am parched and my tongue flickers out to wet my lips in vain. 
Only one thing will quench this thirst.  My rational mind is screaming out, is
his theory correct?  Am I under the effects of some unknown, ancient force that
I encountered?  Or have I finally just come to terms with my feelings for
Mulder?  

"I think I'm under the same unwholesome influence you are," I surmise, my own
voice equally as husky.

"I can't be sure," Mulder says, pulling himself upright and into a sitting
position right in front of me.  I step forward so I am standing between his
legs, but we are not touching yet.  "Because I've felt this way for so long,
Scully."

His words are filled with longing and desire and they sink into my depths.  All
the blood rushes from my head, leaving me with the sensation of being
weightless, euphoric and free.  Free to fall right into Mulder's arms.

"I should go," he murmurs, as if trying to will his body to move.  His body is
tensing underneath his clothes, begging for release.  

"Then go," I reply, feeling the towel loosening from around my body.  I raise
one hand up and with trembling fingers touch his face like he touched mine
earlier.  I gasp when I make contact with his skin.  His cheek is rough with
stubble and I let it graze my fingertips.  Mulder lowers his head, leaning into
my caress.  He takes my wrist in both hands and presses his lips into my palm. 
I welcome their warm, familiar touch.

"Scully," he shudders, kissing the sensitive skin of my inner wrist.  It is as
tender as it is sensual.  His lips continue their journey upwards to the crook
of my arm and he pulls me closer still, until our legs have made contact.  He
works his way to my shoulders and traces my clavicles with his tongue.  My head
falls back and I wrap my arms around him, fingers laced through his damp hair. 
Soon, my entire body is pressed against his and I feel his hands grasping at
the cheap terrycloth.  The towel gives way and spirals to the floor, leaving me
naked before him.

He sighs and raises his head to look at me.  We are face to face with me
standing just about six inches taller than he is.  I lower my mouth to his in a
hot, passionate kiss.  Our tongues clash, exploring one another's with curious
fascination.  My nipples brush against the tight cotton of his shirt and the
hard leather of his holster.  One kiss melts into the next and breathing is
secondary.

Mulder's hands slide from the small of my back to the back of my thighs, easing
my legs apart.  His fingers then come around to splay over my stomach, touching
and teasing me at the same time.  It's been so long since anyone touched me
like this, maybe no one really has.  I want him to touch every inch of my body.
 
He starts to fall back on the mattress, taking me along with him as he
descends.  He lets out a little moan as our combined weight hits the center of
the bed.  My thighs fall on either side of his hips, straddling him
comfortably.  I raise up on all fours and stare at him, relishing the image of
Mulder beneath me.  A lazy smile starts across his face, yet there are frown
lines across his forehead.

"What?" I whisper, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" he asks softly.  "Because I really want you, Scully.  I really
want *this.*  But not if we're being affected by the..."

"I don't accept your theory, Mulder," I say, silencing him by placing my hand
over his mouth. "Do you really want me to stop and debunk it now?"

He shakes his head back and forth.  I move my hand long enough to replace it
with my lips.  Mulder's hands find my breasts and he cups them, squeezing
gently upwards.  His hands are so strong and supple against my soft flesh. 

I break off the kiss and sit up, making instant contact with his cock pressing
up through his jeans.  Mulder grunts as I rub myself along it a few times.  His
eyes flutter close and his hips rise up to increase the friction.  

My fingers are on the strap of his holster, pulling it roughly through the
buckle to remove it.  Mulder shrugs out of it and I push it off the bed, the
gun making a loud clunk as it hits the floor.

His belt is next and I unfasten that buckle even faster, eager to get to what
is underneath.  I yank the zipper down and snake my hand inside his boxers. 
Mulder bucks into my hand as I touch his cock.  It is rock hard already and he
exhales gratefully when it is finally freed from its tight constraints.

I push his jeans and boxers down then reposition my hand over it so I can work
my thumb over the head.  I sit back on his thighs and start rubbing it hard in
an attempt to release some of its tension.  Mulder is still wearing his T-shirt
and he tugs it up and over his head.  Now he is naked as well.  My eyes drift
to his shoulder, mindful it is still tender after its recent injury.  We'll
have to find positions that won't put too much of a strain on it.

He lays a hand on each of my thighs and trails his fingers up to the nest of
auburn-brown curls that cover my sex.  One hand ventures lower, his thumb
separating my damp folds.  Within seconds, he is rubbing my clitoris, matching
my pace.  His eyes stare intently into mine, carefully watching my reactions. 
I let out a cry when he hits a certain bundle of nerves.  The pleasure is
overwhelming and I could orgasm from this alone if he keeps it up.  

I feel wetness on my thumb and look down long enough to see drops of precum
shining on his cock.  Mulder pulls my hand away gently.  My own wetness is
already flowing down his fingers, allowing his thumb to glide over me with
ease.  As good as it feels, I pull his hand away as well.  It's time. 
Physically, neither one of us can wait any longer.

Before he can protest, I raise up on my knees and sink down on him slowly.  My
insides stretch around his length, taking all of him inside me.  I close my
eyes, want to focus entirely on the place where we are joined.  He fills me
completely and I linger in that position for a moment.  Mulder's hands reach
for mine and we press our palms together, then lace our fingers in quiet
contemplation.  There is no turning back.  Not ever.

It is Mulder who starts to move first, pulling out slowly before thrusting back
inside my core.  It starts a natural inertia between our bodies.  I rise up,
then fall back down.  Finding a pace and a rhythm for him and myself.  

"Is this really happening?" he whispers, as my nails dig into the back of his
hand.  "Cause I better not wake up with the sheets soaking wet and find out
this is a dream."

"If you do wake up, you won't be alone," I say, between thrusts. God, this
feels good.  This feels right.  I clench my inner walls tightly around him,
increasing the tension considerably.  My breasts rock in time with my motions,
bouncing gently in front of him.  The bedsprings grate loudly under our
combined weight and accelerates as our pace does.

I groan loudly as I quicken my thrusts, feeling my own pleasure start to build.
I clench my teeth and bear down on him as the rising swell of my orgasm begins
to tremble.  

"Yes," I hiss, riding him faster still.  It pushes me up and over the edge and
finally I am released.  I contract hard around him, riding out each wave of
pleasure eagerly.  I arch my back and sink one final time down.  I ease my grip
on his hands, letting my nails sink out of his skin.  I close my eyes as I
spiral downwards from this high, my body relaxing once again.  My head lolls
forward, my hair tousling in my face.  I look up through the copper curtain and
see Mulder smiling beneath me.

"Satisfied?" he inquires.

"Mmm-mmmm," I nod, running both hands through my hair.  My pale skin in flushed
all over, especially on my neck and chest.  

"You're not done," he says, pulling me down for a long, open kiss.  As I lean
forward, he slips out of my body accidentally.  Mulder groans into my mouth,
acknowledging the separation. "Damn."

"Sorry," I say, trying to reposition myself.  But before I get a chance, Mulder
rolls us both over so he is on top.  Then, he rises up on his knees.

"Turn over," he instructs, giving me enough room to do so.  I feel a rush of
adrenaline when I realize what position he is suggesting.  Slowly, I rotate so
I am lying on my stomach.  Mulder's arm slips underneath my waist, elevating my
hips just enough to get the proper angle.  His body drapes over mine, fitting
perfectly around my small form.  His lips are on the nape of my neck, nuzzling
me briefly.  "My shoulder...I mean...is this okay for you?"

"Yes," I confirm, grasping handfuls of the bedspread to have something to hold
onto.  My cheek is pressed into the mattress and I bite my lower lip.

One arm stays anchored around my waist, the other one supports Mulder upward as
he hunches over me.  With one quick stroke, he sinks into me from behind with a
long, satisfied moan.  

"Scull-lee," he whispers, kissing my shoulder softly.  "Hold on."

Another rush of adrenaline surges through me as he starts to thrust in and out
of me.  This is harder, much faster sex than before.  But it is Mulder, strong
and determined, and he holds nothing back.  I rock back in perfect tandem with
his thrusts, letting him go as far as he can.  Our bodies are covered in sweat
and now they glide easily over the other.  

Mulder lets out a series of moans, each increasing in volume as he nears his
own climax.  With one final thrust, he explodes inside me.  Throbbing hard and
fast within my already sensitive core.  I can feel him breathing hard and his
arms enfold me tightly, shuddering his release.

We fall back onto the bed with Mulder spooning my backside.  He reaches back to
curl the bedspread around us as our bodies cool down.  I twist back around,
letting my skin absorb his warmth as I wrap my arms and legs around him.  He
shifts so he is lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.  When the
pleasure fades from his face, the worry lines return as he closes his eyes.  He
whispers, "I love you" over and over again until the words fade into thick
clouds of swirling white.

***********

Arcata Marsh and Wildlife Sanctuary
Arcata, CA
8:45 a.m.


It wasn't Mulder who woke up alone, it was me.  To the sound of the phone
ringing and Deputy McCory informing me that the bodies of Jamie Larson and
Natalie Fisher were found on the marsh.  I tried to call Mulder's room, but
must have already left.    

"Just like the others," Deputy McCory says, as I bend down and examine the
corpses.  There are no signs of any external injuries whatsoever.  Mulder is
standing with the man who found them, questioning him thoroughly.  My eyes dart
over to him and catch him staring at me.  It is an awkward feeling and I swear
the tension between us must be visible.

"I'll run a battery of toxicology tests on them," I say, noticing the condition
of the skin and eyes.  "Nearest hospital is in Eureka?"

"Yes Ma'am," he replies, gesturing to the emergency vehicle parked ahead.  "The
ambulance is ready to take us there as soon as we bag them."

I nod, allowing the M.E. to take over.  I walk a few steps in Mulder's
direction, careful not to get too close.  My body is screaming in places I
forgot I even had, reminding me of how intense it really was between us.  The
cold air ruffles his hair as he continues talking to the man.  All evidence of
the thick fog is gone with only clarity left behind in its wake.  

"Are you going to ride in the ambulance?" the M.E. asks, interrupting my
thoughts.  I turn back around to focus on him.

"No," I say, taking a deep breath.  "I'll drive separately.  I'll be in the car
when you're ready."

Without another word, I walk toward the muddy Ford Taurus parked off road in
the grass.  Part of me wants to jump in the damn car and head right for DC. 
Obviously what happened last night was a mistake, at least in Mulder's eyes.  I
always thought it would be the reverse, but that's not how I feel at all. 
Embarrassed, yes.  Sorry, no.  It's not like I picked up some guy in a bar and
fucked a total stranger.  It was Mulder and it was more to me that just that.  
 
I click the keyless remote and open the locks so I can climb inside the
driver's seat.  I slam the door angrily behind me and shove the key in the
ignition.  I grip the steering wheel with both hands then rest my forehead on
them.  I can't wait to get out of this damn place.  The autopsies should take
all afternoon thanks to the complicated series of tests I have to run.  Plenty
of time to figure out just what the hell really happened to them and to us.

The passenger side flies open and the whole car shakes as Mulder gets in.  I
raise my head and glare at him.

"Get out," I say automatically, although I really don't want him to. 

"Scully, wait," he begins, turning to face me.

"What's a matter, Mulder?" I ask, sounding increasingly spiteful.  "You seemed
pretty good at getting out this morning."

His face twists in a pained expression and he shakes his head.  "I'm sorry,
Scully..."

"Don't say you're sorry," I snap, wishing the car was moving so I could throw
him out of it.  "Because I'm not sorry for what happened."

"I'm *not* sorry," he retorts. He reaches a hand slowly across the seat to
cover mine.  At first, I try to pull away, but he holds on tightly.  "Jesus
Christ, I could never be sorry for something I have wanted for so long.  But I
was surprised it happened like it did, I just thought it was the effects of..."

"The miasma?" I say before he can.  "You don't think I slept with you because I
wanted to?" 

Silence falls between us as my words linger in the air.  That's what he's
worried about.

"Two people are dead," he says softly.  "Something unexplained killed them. 
Something was out on that marsh last night like we were."

I let my fingers lace with his and I turn our hands over.  My nail marks are
still visible on the back of his hand.  Mulder looks at them, then at me. 
Searching for the answers in my eyes like he always does.  This time, I have
answers to his questions.  

"Not everything *has* to be an X-file, Mulder," I whisper, feeling emotions
rising up within me.  "I have all the evidence I need this time to know what
the truth really is."

"What is the truth?" he breathes, hanging on my every word.  

"Something effected both of us last night," I say softly, watching the tension
in his face ease.  "A force of nature neither one of us could fight against any
longer.  If there is such a thing as an unwholesome influence out in the marsh,
it only reacted to the one inside of us."

Mulder's eyes flicker with understanding and he moves closer to me then stops. 
I know he loves me, I think he always has.  It's just time I admitted my
feelings to him.  He deserves to know, especially now.  It's a new year, a new
decade and a new century.  We have nothing to lose anymore except each other,
haven't we proven that enough?

"I love you, Mulder," I say, letting the words slip from my mouth with ease. 
"I'm not under any influence except the one you have over me."

Mulder's lower lip trembles slightly as he shakes his head slowly, still not
quite believing what I'm telling him.  I've seen that expression of denial too
many times. 

"Do I have to prove this to you?" I ask huskily, with a slight smile.  "Repeat
what happened last night in DC for you to believe me?"

"I'm not the skeptic here," he states ironically, his own smile turning up the
corners of his mouth.  "But you can prove it to me if you want to."  He pauses
before adding, "Do you want to?"

I lean in so our mouths are almost touching, then I pull away.  "We're not in
DC, Mulder.  We'll prove my theory when we get back."

I exhale as I pull my hand away from his to start the car.  Mulder smiles at me
again before settling back in his seat.

Around us, there is no signs of any miasma.


The End


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