TITLE:   Eve of Understanding
AUTHOR:  Kudra
E-Mail:  kudra_x@yahoo.com
RATING:  NC-17
DISCLAIMER: These characters aren't mine.  They 
belong to Chris Carter, 1013 & Fox, but they sure 
are fun to play with.
TIMELINE:  Season One
CATEGORY:  MSR
KEYWORDS:  SMUT
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for Fandomonium's Virtual 
Season of Smut, although quite late.  Blame the 
holidays and my own procrastination.  Many thanks 
to Tali for perseverance, poking, and razor-sharp 
beta.

SUMMARY: Scully debates leaving the X-Files after 
the events of "Eve", while Mulder gives her a few 
reasons to reconsider.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Can you imagine the violation?  I can't imagine 
what those women must be feeling now, losing their 
husbands, finding out their children were not their 
children at all, finding out they were pawns in a 
sick game."  

He could hear the outrage, the exasperation in 
Scully's voice.  That was on the plane ride home, 
in one of the rare moments that she looked up from 
her laptop to speak to him.

He wasn't sure why she was so angry this time.  In 
the months they had worked together, there had been 
plenty of cause for anger and disillusionment, more 
than their share of government conspiracies and 
injustices.  Maybe this case had simply found 
Scully's hot buttons---motherhood and children.

He knew all too well that the continual loss of 
innocence was part of what made their job so 
fucked-up.

****

Scully stared at herself in the mirror the next 
morning, trying to make sense of the woman she saw 
before her.  She went in to forensics to make a 
difference, to distinguish herself somehow, to 
stand apart from all the family practice physicians 
in her graduating class, but she knew it was more 
than that.  She wanted not only to stand up for the 
victims, but also stand up to her father, her 
family, and all their expectations of her.  She had 
believed the X-Files were her chance to do all that 
and more.

But now she was questioning whether she could do 
any of these things.  Mulder didn't need her.  That 
was obvious.  She had been no help at all on this 
case, merely along for the ride.  The truth about 
the Simmons-Reardon case had provoked a sharp sense 
of injustice inside her, but there was no one to 
rage against.  

A government program gone horribly wrong, then 
abandoned, people and experiments used as 
pawns...she had looked for evidence the standard 
way, trusted the wrong individuals blindly, and 
Mulder had been forced to go to outside sources to 
break the case.  Even worse, he obviously didn't 
trust her enough to consult her about taking 
information from a shadowy source.  

Maybe she was wasting her time doing field work.  
Maybe she was working far too hard trying to prove 
herself to someone who didn't think she was up to 
the task...or maybe the real problem was her 
growing attraction to her partner, something she 
suspected was beginning to compromise her ability 
to do her job.

****

"Mulder, I've got some things to do at Quantico 
today.  I'll try to come by your office later."  
Scully's voice was low and measured on his voice 
mail.  She'd taken a personal day yesterday, which 
was rare for her, at least since they'd been 
working together.

He reasoned that Scully had been through a lot over 
the past few months; exhaustion, hospitalization, 
not to mention a few attacks on her personal 
beliefs.  The stress was bound to hit her at some 
point, and at least she was sane enough to cope 
with it in a healthy way, instead of dealing with 
the pressure by becoming an insomniac workaholic.  

Still, he missed her around the office.  He had 
gotten used to having someone to argue with, 
brainstorm with, someone who would laugh at his 
attempts at jokes and make him defend his more 
outrageous theories.  It was much more fun than 
talking to himself.  And, he had to admit that 
Scully's tough and brainy beauty made her a more 
than welcome distraction.

It was near the end of the day when Scully finally 
made an appearance in the basement.  Productivity 
exhausted, Mulder was tossing crumbled balls of 
paper at his Nerf hoop.

"Mulder?"  

He heard a light tap on the door, a low cough, and 
Scully's voice behind him.

"Is this a bad time?"

"Sorry, Scully," he smiled, shaking his head 
slightly, "end of the day burnout.  Too much desk 
time today.  I need a sticker on my ass that says 
'I'd rather be in the field'."

She smiled that wry smile of hers that he hadn't 
quite decoded yet.  "I've been finishing my report 
on the Simmons-Reardon case, and there's one thing 
I don't quite understand --- how did you make such 
a leap from your UFO hypothesis to the genetic 
manipulation angle?"

"Deductive reasoning, Scully."

"Don't give me that, Mulder," she said.  "Someone 
tipped you off, and you haven't offered to share 
these details with me---your partner.  I have no 
idea *who* gives you your information, and thus, no 
way to help or protect you."

Mulder closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  So 
this was it.  Ms. By-the-Book did have something up 
her ass.  She was pissed off about being in the 
dark, after all.  "Listen, you're better off on a 
need-to-know basis," he said, looking into her 
eyes.  "Trust me."

Scully did not break eye contact with him.  "So how 
do you suggest I address this in my report?"

God, she could be infuriating!  "I honestly don't 
care what goes in your report, Scully---just make 
me sound good," he grinned, trying to deflect her 
anger.

She raised her eyebrow again in her disapproving 
way, a sword above blue steel, but then she 
softened slightly.  "Mulder, you should know that 
I'm considering applying for a transfer."

He froze.  "Out of the X-Files?"

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

"Why, Scully?  Have I ticked you off that much?"

"No, it's not you---it's me, Mulder---"

"I've heard that line before," he quipped.

She smiled, in spite of herself.  "Seriously, 
Mulder.  I don't think this is working.  I don't 
think I'm the right fit for the job."

"You can't be serious."

"I've already discussed this with A.D. Skinner."

"And he thought you were being ridiculous," Mulder 
said.

"Well, he didn't agree with me, if that's what you 
mean," said Scully, "but he really doesn't know 
what goes on with us during a case."

"What, that you've saved my ass a dozen times 
already, and helped me crack cases that I'd have 
never solved on my own?" Mulder said, rising from 
his chair.

"Who knows that you wouldn't have eventually come 
to the same conclusions without me there, without 
some science geek slowing down your thought 
processes," Scully said, looking up at him.  "You 
don't need me, Mulder.  The Simmons-Reardon case 
proved that."

"Proved what, exactly?"  Mulder stood a step 
towards her.

Scully held her ground.  "That you couldn't rely on 
your partner to help you solve the case, so you had 
to turn to someone, something else."

Mulder placed a hand on Scully's shoulder, ignoring 
her slight flinch.  "Listen to me, Scully.  Neither 
one of us could have broken that case.  No one 
wanted that information to come to light.  They 
wanted to bury the Eve project.  Without my source, 
no one could have uncovered the necessary 
information."

"You were on the trail, though.  You knew there was 
something else going on," she said.  "I was 
approaching it from a standard kidnapping angle."

"That's because you're not twisted and cynical, 
Scully," he said.  "It's something I love about 
you.  You're brilliant and ethical and completely 
sane.  But give it time, you'll get there," he 
grinned.

She ignored his attempt at levity.  "I don't think 
it's possible," she said, turning away from him.  
"I told Skinner I'd take the weekend to think about 
it, but I plan on returning to teaching for the 
time being, at least until a more appropriate 
assignment becomes available."

"This is insane!  Scully, you can't just leave," he 
said, grasping her by the shoulders.

She squirmed under his grip, but looked him firmly 
in the eye.  "Why not, Mulder?  I'm sure I'm not 
the only agent willing to work with you."

She was actually serious.  She really was going to 
quit.  Mulder stared into her steely eyes, suddenly 
gripped by a fierce longing.  He couldn't let her 
leave the office.  "But you're the only agent I 
*want* to work with," he said softly, and bent down 
to kiss her.

The kiss and the feelings behind it surprised him.  
He hadn't realized quite how much his partner 
already meant to him, or how incredibly attracted 
he was to her.  He hadn't allowed himself to 
imagine how soft and warm her lips might be, wasn't 
prepared for the sweet smell of her, the silk of 
her skin.  Most surprising, however, was that she 
returned the kiss with equal passion...until---

"Mulder!" she breathed, breaking away sharply.  
"What was that?"

"Scully, I'm sor---"

"You think *that* will make me stay?" she spat, 
wiping her lips.  "I come down here, hoping to be 
taken seriously, and you *kiss* me?"  She spun on 
her heels, grabbing a file or two from her inbox.  
"If anything, you just made my decision for me."

Mulder heard the sharp staccato of her footsteps 
echo down the hallway.

****

Scully sat in her apartment that night, still tense 
and furious. She had taken a long bath, sipped a 
nice glass of Shiraz, even done a little deep 
breathing, but nothing erased the clenched feeling 
in her stomach.

She swore her lips were still burning.  Trust 
Mulder to leave his mark somehow.

Why had it been so hard today?  Just thinking about 
Mulder sitting there smirking at her at his desk 
with that smug look and that sexy---no, malicious!-
--grin... damn it, there's the problem that was 
making her so uptight.  His grin *was* sexy, and 
he'd been sitting there in his glasses, looking 
like a sexy professor, like Indiana Jones in his 
classroom scenes, and she couldn't even speak 
coherently about leaving.

He was so infuriating!  Very little he said made 
any kind of logical sense to her, yet he was so 
very often right.  She had spent so much time 
cultivating a cool seriousness, that Mulder's 
passion for his work and his quest often unnerved 
her, even as it excited her.  He inspired in her a 
kind of intellectual challenge that she hadn't 
experienced since college---maybe since 
Daniel...well, maybe that was a bad example.  But 
she really couldn't go back down that road.  She'd 
had enough of falling for authority figures...but 
Mulder wasn't exactly an authority figure, was he?  

There seemed to be two distinct types of men that 
Scully found attractive: daddies that she could 
impress, like Daniel and Jack Willis, and boys she 
could control, like Ethan.  Mulder, like the 
dangerous boy in the back of the classroom, didn't 
seem to fall neatly into either category, but she 
couldn't deny that she was experiencing a deep need 
to impress him, something she seemed to have failed 
miserably at.  

Still, something about that kiss...there was 
something more there, something feral and hungry, 
and it scared her to death.  Wasn't his begging her 
to stay exactly what she had secretly wanted to 
happen? 

Could she really leave?  Especially now?  Could she 
leave without taking a chance on something and risk 
regretting it, maybe not today, but soon and for 
the rest of her life?

RRIINNGG!!!

Her cell phone rang shrilly, shaking her out of her 
thoughts.

She took a few deep breaths, and answered, 
"Scully."

"Hey Scully, it's me."

"Oh...hi, Mulder," she said, forcing a cool tone 
that she did not feel.

"Listen, I was thinking---"

"Mulder," she interrupted, "I think we should 
talk."

"I was hoping you'd say that, because I'm 
downstairs.  I'll be right up," he said, hanging 
up.

Downstairs?  Shit, she thought, lunging for the 
mirror, and smoothing her hair.  She stepped into 
the bathroom and quickly splashed cold water on her 
face.  Glancing down at her silk pajamas, she 
decided they would do.  They would have to do.  

Damn that Mulder.

****

Scully answered the door looking slightly 
disheveled and more than a little hot, Mulder 
thought.  Blue silk pajamas that brought out the 
color of her eyes, and more than a little pink in 
her cheeks.

"Sorry, Mulder," she said, glancing up at him 
without making eye contact, "you caught me just out 
of the bath."

"So a few minutes earlier and things would have 
been very different, huh?" he said, waggling his 
eyebrows.  "Are you the kind of girl who answers 
her door in a towel?"

Okay, maybe a little inappropriate, given the 
circumstances, but Mulder couldn't help trying to 
lighten the mood, or maybe he just didn't know what 
the hell to say.

She ignored him, thankfully, ushering him into her 
apartment.  "Um, would you like a glass of wine, 
Mulder?"

"Nah, just came to talk, hopefully clear the air 
and find out how you're really doing," he replied, 
glancing around her apartment.  So well-kept, so 
girl-with-good-taste.  It looked like someone 
actually lived here, cooked here, had a life here.  
He couldn't imagine Scully living in his leather 
and paperwork squalor.

No wonder she wants to leave, he thought.

"I'm fine," she called from the kitchen.  He heard 
the clink of glasses and bottles.

"So how's Ethan?" he asked, sitting down in one of 
her armchairs.

Scully stood against the facing wall, a glass of 
wine in her hand.  "I wouldn't know," she said.  "I 
haven't talked to him in at least six weeks."

"Six weeks, huh?"

"Not since I ended things," she said softly.

"You broke up with him?" he asked.  "I had no 
idea."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, 
Mulder."

He cleared his throat.  "I'm sure."

"Well, you know as well as I do, Mulder, that this 
job doesn't leave much time for a social life, with 
the odd hours and field work out of the blue.  It 
was impossible for us to maintain a real 
relationship, so I made the choice to focus on my 
career right now."

"Hmmm," he said.  He hadn't expected this much 
disclosure from Scully.  "I guess you've given up a 
lot for this job."

"The same way you have.  So, what I'm saying is 
that I understand what it's like to be lonely, 
Mulder."  Her face was cool and utterly unreadable.

He rose from the chair, stepped over to Scully, 
taking the glass from her hand and placing it 
roughly on the table.  He stared down at her, face 
to face, almost pinning her to the wall.  "Do you 
think that's what this afternoon was about, 
Scully...that I'm lonely?"

"Mulder, I think you should leave," she whispered.

"I'm not leaving, Scully," he said, "and neither 
are you."

There was a moment of electric silence before 
Scully tilted her head upwards and fiercely, 
hungrily kissed him.  He pulled her roughly to him, 
feeling the curve of her breasts against him, 
cupping her ass with his hands.  God, he was 
suddenly so hard that he ached.

He began fumbling with the buttons on Scully's 
pajama top, and when his fingers made contact with 
the milky white of her breasts, he sighed.  Scully 
broke their kiss, guiding his mouth to her nipples, 
and he sucked gratefully, luxuriating in the feel, 
the taste of her.

She skillfully unbuckled his belt and her hand 
grasped his cock so quickly that he gasped with 
pleasure, as her hand moved in graceful, skillful 
strokes.  His own hand ventured beneath the 
waistband of her silk pants, and he felt her, wet 
and sinfully warm.  She sighed, a low, soft, sexy 
sound.  This was killing him.  "Scully," he growled 
in her ear, "don't you have a bedroom somewhere?" 

****

They moved to her bedroom, throwing caution to the 
wind, along with what remained of their clothes.  
Scully tossed aside any nagging concerns about the 
implications of sleeping with her partner, 
concentrating only on the look in Mulder's eyes, 
the feel of his mouth, and the way he made her 
feel.

No fantasy could have prepared her.  There was no 
way she could have imagined how his hands would 
feel, hot and roaming all over her body.  No way 
she could have prepared for the hardness of him 
against her, the way his mouth would tease her 
tongue, her nipples, her thighs, the way he felt in 
her own mouth, how wet and slick she would feel as 
his fingers finally dipped inside her, how her body 
would erupt in shivers and heat when he nuzzled 
between her thighs.  

This was Mulder, exploring her---ravishing her---
thoroughly, teasing and provoking her to 
unimaginable heights of pleasure, and the intensity 
was enough to make her scream.  And when he thrust 
inside her, she was lost entirely in a world where 
nothing mattered except the man in her bed who 
whispered her name and made her lose her senses.    

How in the hell could she leave now?

*****

They lay intertwined, neither of them daring to 
speak, almost as if it might break some sort of 
spell.  Mulder seemed to have lost the capacity for 
speech, so Scully broke the silence.

"You know I've just undermined any credibility I 
might have with you."

Mulder ran a hand through his rumpled hair and 
regarded her slyly.  "On the contrary, I think I've 
gained a new respect for your skills of 
persuasion."

"God, Mulder," she sighed, "I can't stay now---
we've broken the code."

"Oh, I'd say *cracked* the code, is more like it," 
he said.  "I think I've got a much better 
understanding of what makes you tick.  And 
scream...and squeal---"

"I do not squeal, Mulder."  She slapped him 
playfully.

"Apparently, you do," he said, "under the right 
conditions, of course."

"If I do stay, you know this can't go anywhere.  
This has to be the last time.  We can't go around 
ripping each other's clothes off if we expect to 
work together."

"So you're staying then, I take it?"

"What do you think, Mulder?"

"I think you've got a day or two before Monday to 
consider all my arguments for staying."

"So what do we do if I do walk back into the office 
next week?" she asked.

"Who knows," he said, "probably go back to arguing, 
looking into each other's eyes, not quite touching, 
but wanting desperately to, and longing---pining---
in secret for each other.  Don't know how else it 
will work, under *your* terms.  Hell, maybe it 
could."  He kissed her shoulder.  "But 
tonight...tonight we've reached detente, and I say 
we enjoy what's left of it."

"For once, I like your idea. Although, I still feel 
stupid about giving you so much grief about having 
a girl over when we were in San Francisco," she 
said, stroking his chest.  "And I absolutely hated 
her."

"So I noticed.  And, remember, I asked you a 
question that night: 'what's a girl?'"

"And, your point is?"

"I wouldn't know," he said, kissing her neck, her 
ear, and finally lingering on her lips, "I've got a 
woman."

-end-