TITLE: ONE DOOR CLOSES, ANOTHER OPENS AUTHOR: JACQUIE LAVA RATING: NC-17 CATEGORY: MSR SPOILERS: A small one for FTF DISCLAIMERS: If they were mine, I'd be thrilled, but they're not- ARCHIVE: Sure, just ask! FEEDBACK: GOD, yes! SUMMARY: Pain- betrayal- infidelity- Mulder's not having a good day - yet. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx "Did I wake you?" She sat up in bed and rubbed stiff fingers over both eyes. Yawned hugely and stretched hard. "I did wake you." "No, no, you didn't - I was up." "Liar" - she could hear a sigh in his voice - "not only did I hear the yawn, I also heard distinct sounds of bones popping." She chuckled sleepily and scratched at her ribcage. "OK, you got me - I was asleep. You woke me, how dare you. Now I must stay awake for the rest of the night and it's all your fault. My bill will be forthcoming in the mail. Now, what's going on?" She leaned back against her padded headboard and stretched again under the comforter. His voice lowered and he spoke very softly. "I need to talk to you, if you don't mind - can I come over? I wouldn't bother you so late if it wasn't important." "Well, obviously it can't wait until work tomorrow, and I'm already up" - an exaggerated sigh on the other end of the phone; she laughed into the mouthpiece. "Come over - I'll make coffee and we'll talk." "I owe you one, partner." "I know." She shuffled to the door and peeked through the peephole; in the gloom, she made out what appeared to be a bag of groceries in his arms; she groaned. He always felt he had to cook for her whenever his need for talk overcame him and he called her late at night. She supposed she should be used to it by now. She unlocked and held the door open, motioning him inside with a sweeping gesture. "Bought out the breakfast section again?" He smiled as he carried the bag into the kitchen and dropped it on the tiled counter; the smile faded as he faced her and saw how exhausted she looked. Guilt replaced amusement for maybe two seconds before he realized how badly he had needed her comfort; more, he suspected, than she needed her sleep. He took two steps forward, took her hand and pulled. She pitched, off balance, and landed in his arms, and he buried his face in her soft neck and just held on. Indignance turned to concern when she felt him shake; she wound her arms around him, gripping him tightly for a moment, then tried to pull away enough to look into his face. He kept it buried, so she gave up and just cuddled him while she tried to figure out what could possibly be wrong. Just six hours ago, at work, he had been his usual, smiling and joking self. He had big plans this weekend, he had said - waggling his eyebrows at her and snapping the waistband of his slacks. She had laughed at his antics and watched him go, thinking for maybe the millionth time how completely irresistible he was when he was happy. "Hey, now - maybe you should come sit down and tell me what's going on," she pulled at his arm to lead him over to the overstuffed sofa near the fireplace. She had logs burning; he sank down on the sofa cushions as close to the fireplace as he could without scorching himself, and pulled her down with him. She sat next to him and kept hold of his hand; very cold hand, in fact. Was he running a fever? She pressed the inside of her wrist against his forehead; he slapped at it irritably. "I don't have a fever - I got hit with something tonight, right between the eyes, broadsided me and I 'm probably just in shock." Now she was really worried. "God, what happened? Someone in your family die? You're starting to scare me; tell me what's wrong!" She yanked on his hand hard, to make him look at her. He raised a face etched in misery; he choked out three words. "I left her." Shock and disbelief. "You left? When, just now? Why? What happened between this afternoon and this evening? What's going on?" He rubbed his eyes tiredly and slumped back on the sofa. "I could really use a drink." She started to get up; he forestalled her with a gesture. "No, I'll get it; just need something even if it's a beer." He got up, walked slowly into the kitchen, ransacked through the fridge. She shook her head, thinking about what he had just revealed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the overhead light go out; he returned to the sitting room with a beer in each hand. He handed one to her and sat back down; leaned against the cushions with a desolate sigh. She touched his face with a soft finger; he turned hopeless eyes her way. "Tell me." He wiped at his eyes tiredly, unsure of where to start. "I drove home with such a great feeling, you know? Sometimes you just know the ending of a day is going to be stellar" - he paused and gulped half the beer - "and today felt like one of those days. I had an intimate dinner all mapped out, maybe take her over to Anthony's for some good Italian, then go dancing somewhere. God, with our killer schedule lately, it had been so long since we've gotten out to do that. "Anyway, I pulled into the driveway; there was this brand new car parked there, one I didn't recognize and I thought, well maybe she got home early and one of her friends came over, showing off the car or something. Well, there was a friend, all right - I walked upstairs and caught them in the shower together." He drained the rest of the beer, took the untouched bottle out of her suddenly limp hands, and began working on that one too. She was gaping at him in utter shock. "You found her with some guy, taking a shower? Oh my God-" she hugged him tight- "Oh God, I'm so sorry, how-why? Who - do you know?" He laughed at that, harshly; the rest of her beer disappeared down his throat. His hand shook as he set the empty bottle down; he gripped her upper arms and pushed her, enough to be able to see her face. "Oh, yeah, I know who-I may even be able to estimate for how long - but I sure as hell will never know why. "She was in the shower with my sister." 4:30AM; he was asleep, finally. She had forced him to lay down in her bed; covered him up with a fat comforter, trying to stop the shivering. He hadn't begun to recover from the shock; for that matter, neither had she. Her head still reeled from what he had told her; she just could not fathom that much pain and betrayal. Samantha and Tania- shit. Unimaginable- She knew their relationship had been strained lately, but this- this was too much. They'd only been married seven months; hell, she'd just gotten a 'thank you' card back a few weeks ago, in response to the silk sheets she'd gotten them- she shook her head sadly; what a year they'd both had, so far. Tania and Sam- well, she'd never cared overmuch for Tania, and she'd worried about Mulder when he'd announced the engagement- but perhaps Tania was the sort of personality that grew on a person after prolonged exposure. She certainly was pretty enough- tall, blonde and cool-looking, slender and intelligent. But she'd never liked Dana, right from the start - and the feeling was more or less mutual. Their inability to become friends had saddened Mulder, but he was in love, and trying so hard to make the marriage work, without ruining his personal and professional relationship with his partner. Samantha, though, Jesus- that was the killer. She'd been through a lot lately, what with her fianc dumping her for another woman and losing her job- but still - what kind of sister was she, to do something like this to her brother; a brother she professed to love so much? Yes, indeed, a year to remember, Dana Scully thought derisively. After all, hadn't she gone through a divorce not so long ago herself- but at least it had been fairly amiable and she still saw Mark quite often. He was engaged again, and she was happy for him and genuinely liked his future wife. Nothing she had gone through, painful as it was then, had been anything remotely as bad, as hideous, as what he was just beginning to experience. We should all start a club and call it Divorce R' Us, Dana thought bitterly. My marriage may have lasted the longest- but barely two years was certainly nothing to brag about! Trying not to think about the whole sorry mess, she sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked Mulder's hair off his forehead as he slept. Such a strong face, she thought, as she ran a light touch down the blade of his straight nose. So kind, so beautiful - inside where it counted most, as well as outside, where their co-workers and associates only saw a handsome facade with no notion of what could be beyond those sexy bedroom eyes of his. She couldn't stand to see him hurt, not even the tiniest bit. She sighed, attempting to shake off as many dark thoughts as she could; she turned off all the lights except for a tiny lamp on her desk in the corner of the room. She pulled back the covers and slid into her bed, laid her head tiredly on the pillow next to his dark hair; reached out and gently laced her fingers in his, wanting him to draw unconscious strength from her, hoping he knew she was there for him. Apparently he did, for in his deep but troubled sleep he turned to face her, pulled her against him like a security blanket; his breathing evened out and he slept on. Warmed by his arms, legs covering hers like silky steel, she finally slept, too. He awoke slowly, stiff and sore, with a raging headache and no immediate clue as to the events of the night before. He was very warm, almost sweating, in fact; the comforter girded him from head to toe and he struggled briefly to rid himself of the excessive heat. He kicked his legs free; his foot hit something soft next to him and he turned in the bed to see her, fast asleep next to him, still holding his hand while her other hand was tucked under her pillow. She lay partly on her side, a shapely thigh brushing him, clad in a pair of old running shorts that had twisted underneath her hips, and a baggy tee shirt which he vaguely recognized as the one he had been wearing the night before. He knew when he got it back it would smell of jasmine and lemons, since she never wore any other scent. He frowned, trying to remember what could have happened the night before, to find him here in her bed with her wearing some of his clothes- and then it hit him like an oncoming tidal wave and he groaned aloud in mingled pain and horror as he saw, in his mind once more, the steamy shower in their master bedroom- the twin pools of discarded clothes on the floor. The sounds of muted sex behind the smoked glass of the shower door; of water sluicing down slim bodies tanned all over from the sun, entwined together so tightly it was impossible to tell where one left off and the other began- movement and sighs, moans and soft giggles when one of them dropped the soap. He had stood there like a statue, staring at the opaque glass, unwilling to admit that he recognized both voices, knew both shapes in that stall. The identity of his wife's lover was too monstrous to contemplate, but he knew. If it had been a man, how much easier it would have been to work through the shock, the betrayal; how much faster would he heal? But it was a woman, and not just any woman, which would have been awful enough. He curled into a tight ball of pain in the bed as he remembered who opened the door of the shower; whose dainty head peeked around the glass toward where he stood in stony shock; whose wide hazel eyes, the same color and shape as his own, met his in absolute terror, knowing what must be going through his mind- her hand had reached out to him; her soft voice had pleaded with him to understand - he had turned on his heel and walked out, not shutting any doors, and hearing his wife running out of the bathroom after him. She could only go so far, naked and wet. He had ended up at a bar around the corner, the owner a pal of his who took one look at him, slapped a whisky in his hand and led him to the back office, where he sat and drank his drink and shook all over. He'd sat there in the darkened office, head in his hands, replaying the last seven months in his head- trying to figure out why he hadn't noticed sooner what was happening right under his nose. Oh yes, he knew in his heart he'd married a little too soon; although he'd known Tania a year or so, they had only dated a month before he proposed to her. It had just seemed the right thing to do- he was happy, really happy, for the first time in a very long while. He told himself many times the relationship with Tania wasn't rebound-related; that he was genuinely happy for Scully- that he understood her need to have a normal life with someone. Although they'd always had too many unresolved feelings between them, they'd really waited too long to try making a go of it- regretfully, Scully had gone looking first; had found someone first. And Mark Bordeaux was a very likeable guy. When the pressure of Scully's involvement with her job, and her partner, got the best of him, however- Mark had bailed. Prematurely, Mulder had always thought- taking the chickenshit path, he'd claimed her devotion to the FBI (and to Mulder) was too much; he wanted a full-time wife. It was all Mulder could do to stop himself from punching Mark's lights out. Scully had been decimated by her husband's desertion- had broken into little pieces which Mulder had tried so hard to pick up. He'd only been married a few months himself when that happened- and Tania's sympathy for Dana extended to about the same length as her liking did. With zero tolerance for Scully's pain, Tania threw a fit every time Mulder went over to Scully's place to see how she was faring- to comfort her and keep her sane during the proceedings- to hold her shaking body when she found herself faced with having to sign the final papers. Mulder had laid his tired head on the cluttered desk in the back of the now-empty bar, and had spent a fair amount of time torturing himself with guilt over what he may or may not have done correctly, or incorrectly, for that matter, in his own marriage-then had made the call to the one person in the world he trusted most- and who now was waking up, concern on every line of her face as she took in his fetal position. "Mulder?- God, you're ice-cold! Come here-" She tugged hard to make him unwind his body; he resisted, moaning low in his throat, then suddenly he was in her arms, and sobbing silently. He was naked, she realized in shock, then remembered how one of his ex-girlfriends had always teased him about ripping off his clothes in the middle of the night when he was deeply asleep, as if they were strangling him. He must have done it again, she thought. Well, naked or not, he needed comfort and a warm body, so she did her best to ignore all that muscled, smooth skin so close to her, and slipped arms and legs over him to keep as much of the shivering down as possible. Tears were running down his cheeks, wetting her neck and hair; he shook so hard the entire bed moved. His hands gripped her painfully; she would have bruises on her pale skin later in the day. She hardly noticed. She was crying as well; great tears of shared pain and empathy welled from her eyes and mingled on the pillows with his. She whispered nonsense comfort words into his ear in a low voice, praying he would hear her; hoping she could get through the fog of misery in which he was blanketed. After what seemed forever, the shaking ceased somewhat, and he raised his head from the crook of her neck, and looked at her. She met his eyes with wet ones of her own, sliding her cool hand through the hair at the back of his head, soothing him with her touch. His face was a mask of the most pain she had ever seen on any human being; pale, exhausted and eyes a thousand years old. It wasn't fair - he deserved the very best, always and forever; there wasn't a sweeter man in the world and she had always counted herself so lucky to be his best friend, as he was to her. They had known each other almost seven years; had seen each other through bad relationships, family deaths, not to mention some of the most horrific cases in the FBI's history. They had survived more life-threatening situations, had trusted each other through the darkest days, before the Consortium was destroyed- when colonization was still a global threat. They had survived all of this, relatively unscathed, and had faced the future with such optimism, each striving for, and finding, the life they had always dreamed of- or so they thought. She'd married first; Mark had seemed so perfect for her. But he'd never been able to handle the day-to-day stresses of her job- and her close relationship with Mulder. The marriage had ended before their second anniversary. She pondered it now, as she continued to soothe Mulder with soft hands and a warm body, as he struggled to get control of himself, fought to calm his mind. She had long ago acknowledged their relationship as part of the reason her own marriage had floundered. A friendship such as theirs would be difficult for a lover, a husband - or wife, she thought - to handle with equanimity. Certainly Mark had his share of sleepless nights, wondering about their closeness, their need to function as one entity when on a case. He knew their friendship was completely platonic- but it was difficult for him to accept it. For all his easy-going likability, Mark was a possessive man- he didn't want to share, however innocuous the sharing. She and Mulder still spent a great deal of time together, on the road delving into cases; in the office late at night hashing over files and finalizing reports. Mark didn't like it- had a hard time with it. Too hard, because they couldn't get past it, and that aspect, combined with other things, caused their marriage to fail. But it hadn't been because either of them had fallen for somebody else - and in their case, she had actually known Mark for a shorter time than Mulder had known Tania. His situation was much different - and much more horrible given the apparent circumstances. Mulder slowly emerged from his induced fog of grief, to realize with some shock that he was in bed with Scully, who was holding him tightly with all her strength, murmuring into his ear, his hair- and he was stark naked under the covers. The shock of that knowledge immobilized him but made him incapable of moving away from her comfort, even if he had wanted to. It hadn't been so long ago when he had held her tightly while she shed copious tears, the day her divorce papers were served to her - rocked her in his arms and whispered soothing, disjointed words of nonsense into her ear while she cried for all she was about to lose. At the time, he hadn't been married for very long, either - was still pretty much a newlywed himself, still learning how to be a husband, still getting accustomed to having to answer to another woman besides his partner - and dealing as best he could with a possessive wife who couldn't really come to grips with the demands and the danger of his job - and the devotion he so obviously had for his partner. Tania had never really accepted Scully; had treated her with icy politeness most of the time. And as the months passed, he'd wondered more than a few times if he should toss in the towel, find another career. But he loved his work- as much as his wife, it seemed, for he'd not bowed to her demands that he quit the Bureau and try another line of work. Deep down, he knew he'd never leave his job- never leave Scully. And that was the root of it all- These thoughts ran like processed film through Mulder's tired brain as he lay there, cradled in Scully's arms, and realized with surprise that he was feeling better. His head turned slowly on the pillow; he gazed at her face, close to his on the same pillow. She had fallen asleep, which told him better than anything else that she had most likely been awake most of the night, comforting him. As always, her depth of compassion and caring staggered him, and made him feel very lucky, and very cherished, in spite of what he had gone through and would continue to go through. He needed to make plans, he realized. First, he needed to get out of bed without awaking Scully; no mean feat since they were twined together like Siamese twins. Moving slowly and gently, he managed to extricate himself from her arms and legs without too much difficulty; she mumbled under her breath, automatically seeking his warmth in the place he had vacated. He stood, looking down at her for a moment, noting how utterly beautiful she looked in her bed, sleeping, with rosy cheeks and mussed hair. Before he did anything stupid, such as reach out and touch her for all the wrong reasons, Mulder walked as fast as he could to the bathroom and locked the door. Voices, raised in anger, permeated the relative quiet of the bath, disturbing the carefully-controlled cocoon in which he had placed himself , as he stood in a shower trying to get warm and clean, helplessly remembering another shower, hot and steamy, just a few hours ago. Against his will, he strained to hear the conversation - actually more of a shouting match. "I'm telling you to take off before I do something I may or may not regret later!" Scully's voice, hard and edgy and racked with animosity; a voice Mulder had never heard coming out of her graceful throat. He didn't know she had it in her. "I'm NOT leaving until I talk to him!" Equally nasty; his sister, he realized, not surprised at all. He figured she'd show up here sooner or later, since she had always maintained Mulder and Scully were joined at the hip. For that matter, Tania had also been of the same opinion-Shit. He blanched in sudden understanding. They both thought he was involved with Scully. No wonder they had-but no - that was too stupid for words, he thought in disgust. People who truly loved each other took the time to find out the truth before they leapt to ridiculous conclusions- didn't they? Even very hot-tempered people such as his wife? Mulder rubbed his face hard with both hands, feeling completely defeated. He just didn't know anymore- and outside the bathroom door, the voices were escalating in volume and animosity. "Dammit, Sam," Scully was past the first flush of blinding anger and was trying logic, "Mulder has just been through something so traumatic even I can't imagine it, and I can guarantee you I have a very fertile imagination." She shook her head at the look of utter contempt on Mulder's sister's face. "Yeah, I'm sure you're now going to tell me how horrible this has been for you and Tania -no! Listen to me!" she cut off the rush of protests she sensed Samantha was about to hit her with. "You are having an affair with your sister-in-law, for God's sake! You are allowing your brother, whom I always thought you 'loved' so much, to watch you commit adultery with the one person in his world he vowed to love, honor and cherish forever. What the hell is wrong with you!" she was screaming it in Sam's face, who didn't flinch, although she had a semblance of conscience left to pinken a little. "Look, Dana, I didn't ask for this, OK? I never knew I had any same-sex urges within me." Samantha paced around in circles, then spun around to face Scully. "After Roger left me, over the last several months or so, Tania and I have grown increasingly close, mostly because she got so lonely after her parents moved away and you two were gone on cases so much of the time -" this with an accusatory look flung in Scully's general direction. "I'm not making excuses for anyone's behavior, I'm just telling you how it is. Tania always felt like a third wheel, sometimes in her own home! Can't you see that you and Mulder have too close a relationship for it to be platonic! Hell, everyone knows you guys have been screwing around for years!" Scully's jaw dropped; was that what people, friends thought was going on? She was horrified. She opened her mouth to defend their friendship - and felt it drop even lower when, from behind, Mulder's strong arms wound around her waist and she was pulled hard against a warm, naked chest, towel-clad hips brushing hers. A face buried itself in the back of her hair, lips touched her neck in welcome - and a warning to not say any more - easy enough, she thought in a daze. She was quite speechless. "Well, hello, little sister," Mulder's tone was sarcastic in the extreme. His grip tightened on Scully as he felt her start to squirm. "I suppose you just had to come by and see how I'm 'handling' this new relationship between you and my so-called wife." He rested his chin on Scully's soft shoulder, felt her shudder in response, and silently sent an apology her way for using her as a shield and a crutch - but he needed this from her. He'd find a way to make it up to her later on. He sensed her acquisence, before he felt her relax and go along with him by placing her hands over his and pressing them into her hips, where he held her against him. Her head turned slightly and she opened her mouth and lightly, teasingly brushed her small tongue along his unshaven jawline; the seemingly intimate sight drew a gasp from Mulder's sister, who couldn't take her eyes off them as they stood there glued together. Mulder fought the impulse to whip Scully's body around in his arms and kiss her senseless; God, where had THAT thought come from- Focus, you jerk, he told himself. He glanced at his sister again. She looked rather green and pinched around the gills. Too bad his wife wasn't seeing this as well, he thought nastily. "Why don't you do us all a favor and just take off now? I doubt there's anything more to say, between you and me. Tell my lovely wife I hope you two are happy and enjoying your new-found 'love' immensely- I certainly intend to enjoy mine." Mulder kissed Scully's shoulder and caressed her limp arms lovingly. Scully was past complaining. She barely remembered her own name at that point. Who knew Mulder's body could be that strong, that arousing? And his lips -! She had lost what little breath she possessed right around the time Mulder had kissed the back of her neck, in the exact spot where she was most sensitive and easily stimulated. All she could do was hang loosely in his embrace and hope when it was all over, she had enough muscle control in her legs to stay upright, otherwise Mulder would have to sponge her off the floor. Samantha was backing toward the door, shaking her head in confusion. "I don't know what's going on with you two, except maybe it's what Tania suspected was happening all along," this as she yanked open the front door, "I'm getting out of here before I say something I'll regret." She slammed out of the house. As soon as the door closed, Scully surged forward, catching Mulder by surprise, and twisted out of his embrace. She whirled on him, hands clenched. "What in hell do you think you wanted to accomplish with that display, Mulder? Are you out of your mind?!" Scully was in mingled shock and traces of lingering arousal. Mulder just stood quietly, and stared at her, really seeing her for maybe the first time - how soft her hair was as it waved around her head, the brilliance of her clear blue eyes, the strength so apparent in her small body. She had saved him once again, had given back some semblance of pride and dignity so vital to him, had let him appear before his sister as strong instead of weak and broken. It amazed him, the depth of his genuine love for this woman, his partner, best friend - then his eyes widened as he realized what he had just almost said aloud. And he puzzled silently the fact that suddenly he wasn't in as much pain over the events of the past twenty-four hours as he should have been. Why was that, he wondered? The answer was standing defiantly in front of him, tapping a small foot, waiting for an explanation from him. Mulder grinned suddenly, feeling a huge weight melt off his shoulders. He grabbed Scully in mid-tirade and covered her mouth with his. She squeaked once, in alarm and shock- then moaned as his tongue invaded her mouth and his hands gathered her tight against him. She dug her fingernails into the tight muscles of his chest as the kiss intensified; her tongue met his fiercely. He slipped a leg between hers and nudged them apart; one hand slid down the front of her body and up under her loose tee shirt, gripped her high on the waist; hesitated for just a second before dancing up her ribcage to fasten on a breast. That electric contact slammed through her like a fist; she gasped and pulled herself away from him, jumping back and staring dazedly into his glittering eyes. "What- God, Mulder- what are we doing?" Scully was overwhelmed by all the emotions roiling within her, each clamoring for attention. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and tried to get her equilibrium. Mulder seemed to be just as confused. He turned away and collapsed on the nearest chair, rubbing hard at his eyes. He looked up at Scully, rocked to the core by what had just exploded between them. Dimly he was aware of her words; he had to concentrate to hear them over the buzzing in his ears-"just because I was here and you needed to prove something??!" she was almost screaming at him, having worked herself up into quite a red-haired lather. His jaw dropped and he jumped up to move close to her. "Is that what you think I would do to you? Get worked up and toss it all on you because I want to do the 'muy macho' routine? You know me better than that!" He was hot. "I took a second to really look at what has been right in front of my face for so long I always just took it for granted and didn't stop to analyze what it really meant to me," he moved even closer and picked up her cold hands, fingering the palms gently. "Scully, you have been so much a part of my life that I can only imagine I suffered from temporary insanity long enough to marry someone else and pretend I could ever be happy!" One small tug on her hands sent her unresisting body back into his arms; he buried his hot face in her neck and inhaled her unique scent. His own body was trembling; desire for her was raging stronger by the minute and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. He didn't need to question the motives behind his actions, his need for her. It was just an extension of all the other feelings he had always carried for her, most of which he had already shown her and she had already returned. Scully had never been so confused. The love she felt for Mulder was genuine and lasting; he had been a major presence in her life for a very long time. The attraction between them, the chemistry, had always been a pleasant buzz that wound through their daily lives, imbuing their professional relationship with a tension that had always kept both of them on their toes-it spilled over into their private lives to the point of causing disturbances in their love lives, but this was the first time their unguarded feelings had caused such a furor of hurt and betrayal. The hours they worked were long ones, admittedly; their dedication to the Bureau, to their cases and to each other was absolute and it took a great deal of time and energy to see it through. Other marriages and relationships handled high-level stress jobs just fine - other relationships didn't fall apart when the spouses in question had partners- what had gone wrong with hers and Mulder's? Scully heaved a deep sigh and her head dropped against Mulder in utter exhaustion. She was mentally whipped and beyond rational thinking; very dangerous. Besides, the feel of his warm mouth running across her shoulder and collarbone, tongue licking delicately on her skin, was rapidly dissipating any tiny protests she might have. She wanted this, damn it- had dreamed of it, even if she refused to admit it to herself. "Dana," he breathed in her ear, skin tight against hers, "Do you need this, want this as much as I do, like I never imagined I could ever need? You feel so good- I've loved you for such a long time, actually fooled myself into thinking it was just as a friend, and nothing else. God, how stupid can I get! Talk to me," he pulled back a little to look into her bemused face, "tell me how you feel, what you want. Tell me I'm not alone -" he was pleading with her, eyes a little desperate. She slowly looked up, into his face, his soul- and what she saw there shattered her. With a whimper, she wound herself into his embrace and pulled his head down with shaking fingers; devoured his mouth and felt him groan as he returned her kiss. I've wanted this all along, he thought in a heated daze, as he stood in a sun-dappled kitchen with his beautiful partner in his arms, kissing him senseless. Her lips and tongue were driving him up the wall with pounding desire, he had never felt anything so intense. He had her shirt wadded in both hands, had tugged it over her head and had covered her soft breasts with urgent fingers before he was conscious of what he was doing. She was breathing erratically with each new touch, eyes wide with the shock of each sensation. Her arms wound around his neck as he moved his hands under her taut bottom and lifted her to curl both legs about his waist, which brought her in abrupt contact with his raging erection. Mulder was a tall guy, and his body was proportioned to match his height. He was built long and thick; right now all of that action was pressing hard into her soft center. She was so tiny and delicate- his lust-addled brain struggled to assimilate the possibility of Dana not being able to handle all of him- God, he didn't want to hurt her, ever- but at the same time his body, acting with a mind all its own, began rocking against her with each movement bringing them closer, until with one push, he slid into her and the mingled pain and pleasure of it filled her eyes with tears and she squeezed them shut, feeling him stretching her almost unbearably- but she wouldn't let go of him. Mulder had come to a shuddering halt and just stood very still, not moving a muscle, only partially sheathed within her warmth and tortured by the tears he felt hot on his shoulder. He gripped her tighter and, still joined, carried her back to her bedroom and sank down on the bed, rolling until she hovered over him, connected but able to set her own pace. She looked down at him, head thrown back on her pillow, desire and love glowing in his eyes. She began moving slowly, searching for and then finding the rhythm which suited her best, feeling the pain ease but keeping the friction in place. She leaned her arms back and gripped his upper thighs in her small hands, arching her back to help take more of him into her. It worked- the rest of his hard length slid in. She sucked in a breath; he pressed against the very core of her. She would not be able to move very much without it hurting, but somehow the pain didn't seem like such a big deal. She tried it, tried pulling her hips up, then easing them down and over him, letting him go deep. The feeling was exquisite; they both groaned with it. Mulder could never have imagined feeling anything this wondrous, this perfect- She slid up and down again, knees trembling against his sides. She bent over his face and let her hair wash over him, and the smell of jasmine made his head swim. He rubbed his big hands along her breasts, thumbs probing at her hard nipples; she gasped and ground herself harder on him. His hands slid down to her small hips, holding them steady as she plunged faster and deeper around him. The pain had all but disappeared, but an occasional twinge kept her on the edge and her eyes were still tearing from the slow burn between them. Mulder had been trying to hold himself as still as possible inside her, letting Scully set the pace and the intensity. But as she moved faster, and his excitement built, Mulder couldn't stay still any longer. With a groan, he surged up against her, delving even deeper and forcing a sobbing cry from her throat. He sat up a little and wound his arms around her waist, cradling her as she moved against him and her tears flowed down her cheeks. He kissed every inch of her face, whispering to her of love and caring, letting her hear as well as feel the way this moment was affecting him, his heart- forever. Now her body was shuddering against him; hips rocking faster and faster as she sought her own release. She found it after one final, hard plunge; her entire body tightened and she screamed as the orgasm tore through her trembling frame. It felt so wonderful- she was coming apart in his arms, the climax clutching at her in waves. Mulder thrust up into her as she convulsed around him, and gasped out her name hoarsely as her spasms caused him to erupt as well. They both collapsed onto the rumpled bed as their breathing slowed, and held each other as their sore bodies relaxed and cooled. Eyes closed, mouth smiling slightly, Scully felt Mulder curl around her and warm her with his big body. She pressed into him and sighed in contentment. She had never felt anything remotely like that during lovemaking, she decided. Mark had been a passable lover; certainly he had never made her scream, but she never went to sleep unsatisfied, either. She had figured that was the extent of lovemaking for mature adults- a slow, relieving orgasm, enough to take the edge of the body, and a warm snuggle before falling asleep. She had never expected this blinding kind of fury and pain/pleasure that she had felt with Mulder. She knew a great deal of the pain stemmed from the obvious difference in their respective body size. Scully glanced down at him, sated and relaxed, next to hers. She had never seen anything as beautiful as Mulder's body. Lanky and muscled, strong yet silky skin covering elegant bones and long, slender hands and feet- eyes to die for, wide and hazel innocent with a sensual glow behind them. A mouth that just begged to be kissed, and often - full and pouty; white white teeth and a warm, sweet smile. Sometimes he looked like a little boy, flush with some exciting discovery. Always there was the man behind the boyish face, a combination of sexuality and honest goodness that women found completely irresistible. Including her, she thought ironically. But now she knew those feelings were returned to her a hundred times over. She laid her head back on the pillow of his chest and felt herself slip off to sleep. She was truly exhausted. Cradling her close, almost asleep himself, Mulder caressed Scully's damp, soft body and marveled at the events which had led him to this point. Last night, in the throes of a visual nightmare brought on by the horrific betrayal he'd endured at the hands of two women who were supposed to care for him and love him- he'd actually considered suicide. He'd pondered the most expedient way of disposing of himself, during the drive to Scully's place. He would tell her what had happened, derive as much comfort as humanly possible from her, then quietly off himself and leave this world for a better place, hopefully - one without so much damned pain and heartache. He'd given up that monumentally stupid idea, however, when Scully gave of her sympathy and her love so unselfishly, just for him- and he knew he could never leave her, not like that. Not any way, he thought, tightening his arms around her softness, whispering into her hair fiercely, "I will never leave you, Scully - never." And against his chest, he felt her lips move, just a little; and a breathy, "I know you won't, Fox- love you-" - so faint it was as if the movement of her mouth and her whispery breaths were the remnants of a dream. He rested his face into the curve of her shoulder, breathing deeply of her soft hair, letting it soothe him to sleep. The muted buzz of his cell phone woke him just an hour later, and he fumbled to grab it before it disturbed Scully, still draped over him and deeply asleep. He was able to reach his discarded jeans, there on the edge of the bed, without waking her up, and put the phone quickly to his ear. "Mulder." "Fox- it's me-" His sister's teary voice; just about the last person, besides his soon-to-be ex-wife, that he wanted to speak to. His jaw tightened ominously, but he held onto the phone, resisting the urge to cut her off, and simply muttered, "Yeah-" "Please don't-" he could hear her swallow a sobbing breath, voice clogged with tears, "please don't- tell Mom, OK? I don't want her to be hurt by this- any more than I wanted you to hurt-" Mulder blew out a frustrated breath, into the phone; he didn't want to deal with this right now- beside him, Scully had partially awoken, and was running a hand through his tousled hair, soothing his scalp, soothing the headache he could feel building in the back of his neck. He pulled her closer and sighed, then tried to work up enough interest to reply to his sister. "Sam- I have no desire to let Mom know what's been going on, believe me- anyhow, why should you care? You made it plain, long ago, whose daughter you wanted to remain... and although I could never understand it, I chose to leave it alone, and just try concentrating on building some kind of solid relationship with you- to regain back as many of those lost years as I could. But now-" Mulder sighed deeply, hearing fresh tears on the other end of the phone, and realizing with stark certainty that there wasn't a need to punish his sister for her duplicitous actions- she was doing a damn fine job punishing herself- and would probably continue to do so, for the rest of her life. With that innate knowledge, his voice softened, became less harsh with pain. "You can't go back now, you must know that, Sam. Neither of us will ever be able to sweep this under a chair and hope it sinks into the floorboards. Not like when we were kids, and we always got rid of tracked-in mud from the hallway by trying to sweep it down the air vents- remember?" Her watery chuckle on the other end of the phone was answer enough, and just for one tiny moment, he was back there with his sister- standing in the hallway, pushing caked mud and dirt down the air vent, giggling at their cleverness, not knowing at the time that their mother had seen the entire sneaky maneuver from the top landing of the stairway overlooking the downstairs foyer- and had laughed underneath her breath at their antics, even as she vowed they'd also clean the basement floor before the day was through- For the briefest of seconds, Fox and Samantha had their old bond back, and it was sweet and innocent and real- then it was gone as if a match had been snuffed out, and Mulder sighed, in pain for all that had been lost between them- for all that could never be developed, the perfection of a sibling relationship - the love which had been forever displaced by her actions. Somehow, the loss of his sister would be a hundred times worse than the loss of his wife. Blood won out every time, he thought, clamping down firmly on the pain- and spoke once again, gently, into the phone. "Look I have to go now, Sam- I won't be speaking to Mom. I wouldn't tell her- wouldn't want to hurt her or cause her any more pain. So don't worry about that - but do worry about the direction in which your life is headed, because I can't imagine that life with Tania is going to be what you want and need, not for the long run anyway." Her shaky voice interrupted his movement to turn off the phone. "Fox, wait! Tania- she's standing here; she wants to talk to you-" in the background he could hear his wife's strident voice demanding the phone, and suddenly Mulder knew if he never spoke to the bitch again, it would be too soon. "I'm hanging up, Sam- I don't want to talk to her-" And in his ear he heard Tania's voice; she'd grabbed the phone away from Samantha and was talking furiously into it. "I suppose you're still at your partner's place- the least you could have done was come home and face me- this is all your fault anyway- never home, never a decent meal together- when was the last time you slept in a bed next to me- the last time we went to a simple movie together- the last time we made-" his angry but controlled reply cut her off in mid-tirade. "I always hated it when you did that non-interruptable monologue of yours, Tan-" his voice roughened and intensified as he spoke to her. "And I'm not going to dignify any of your boring accusations with an answer. Looks like it's over to me- you took the first step in killing us, not me. If I were you I'd be thinking of a way to tell your parents that they'll never get that precious grandchild they've been praying for, now that you've got yourself a new girl-" and with those last words, he gently disconnected her, right in the midst of a very loud and furious squawk. He tossed the phone on the floor, turned to Scully, who'd been rubbing at his back with tender fingers, and murmured into her hair, "Well, I burned my bridges with a blow-torch, Scully- how about you? Ready to take on a divorced man?" Scully smiled up into his sweet face; cupped her fingers around his jawline and nuzzled his chin softly. "Mulder- I took you on over seven years ago, and I have yet to regret a single day- well, maybe I regret not shaking my clothes harder when we came out of those ridiculous bee domes- then maybe I would have rid myself of that damned bee before it interrupted our special moment in your hallway- and maybe we could have saved ourselves a hell of a pile of anguish-" Mulder smiled at the memory of that day and what it could have meant for both of them; he could afford to smile now, although at the time his world as he knew it had almost ended, right there on the floor of his hallway. He held her tightly and rolled her so she was underneath him and he could gaze down into her enchanting eyes. "Fresh start, okay?- for both of us. No looking back, no worries, no anguish, no excess baggage- and no more angst-ridden anything! We go forward together- deal?" She reached up a hand to pull gently at his neck, easing him down over her face so she could kiss his lips deeply, then spoke into his half-open mouth, echoing the words down into his soul - "You got yourself a deal, Mulder-" End