Covenant NC-17
By Rhondda Lake
rhonilak@icontech.com
--------
Disclaimer: Awwww... come ON... you know the drill.
Category: S, A, MSR
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: It breaks from the real X-Files timeline just before Leonard
Betts. I got enough to deal with in this one without the events following
that one.
Author's notes: I want to thank the Rhino Readers (Deb, Nancy, Mary,
Carolyn) the wonderful group who usually beta read for me. Also everyone who
volunteered to do a 'test reading' beta type thing on the X-Files Romantics
Mailing list. And lastly to Miki Akimoto, the absolutely marvelous Beta
Reader/Editor who got stuck with me from THE BETA READER'S CIRCLE. (If you
are a writer and have not availed yourself of the free service, please do.
It's wonderful, helpful and informative. To submit your story for beta
reading send a request to klietz@ford.com ) You have no idea how nerveous I
am about posting this one, folks.
The song "Who Wants to Live Forever" quoted before each part is by Queen.
The lyrics are by Brian May. Copyright 1986.
Covenant
by Rhondda Lake
(part 1/5)
There's no time for us,
There's no place for us,
What is this thing that builds our dreams
Then slips away from us?
Who wants to live forever?
---------------------------------------------
The car door slammed closed. "I can't do this anymore, Mulder."
The driver turned to look at the woman currently buckling her seat belt. "I
said I was sorry."
"You're always sorry, Mulder. After the fact. But that doesn't keep you from
running off on the wildest of fucking goose chases without so much as a word
to me. I'm supposed to watch your back. I can't do that if I don't know
where the hell your back is. I can't take you ditching me anymore."
Mulder pulled out of the police station parking lot. "I ditch you because I
don't want you to get hurt. Because you ARE my backup, and I need to know
you're there to pull me out if I get caught. Like last night." His tone and
his posture were defensive. They had had arguments about this before, but
for some reason Scully's tone struck him as different. More... ominous.
Maybe it was the fact that Scully was swearing. She only swore when she was
truly upset and couldn't find any other outlet for her emotions.
"I can't take another two a.m. call asking me to come get you out of jail...
what if the next call is from the morgue? I can't do it, Mulder. This is it.
I've placed all my trust in you, but you obviously don't trust me as much as
you claim to." Dana Scully didn't sound so much angry as hopelessly sad and
disappointed.
"That's not true." He drove up the entrance ramp to the highway. "I trust
you more than anyone. More than myself."
"You think you do, but you don't. If you trusted me you'd tell me where you
were going and why. You'd trust me to come with you. It isn't trust you
feel, it's dependence. I'm there, but only when it's convenient to you." Her
voice was tight and her eyes were bright with tears she refused to allow to
fall. "I can't be your fucking tissue anymore. I can't handle this, being
used then tossed aside. This was the last goddamn time."
Mulder took a deep breath. He honestly hadn't realized she'd seen it like
that. "I don't use you, Scully. If you feel like this... why'd you come?
Why'd you bail me out?" Please don't let this be leading where it felt like
it was. He was a screw up, he knew that. But he didn't know if he could
handle fucking up this relationship. Not true. He knew damn well he
couldn't. Life without Scully was no life at all.
She sighed. A small, tired sound. "Why do I do it? Because if you're
dependent then I'm co-dependent. I just realized on the drive up here that I
have to break the cycle. It isn't healthy, for either of us."
"Would it help if I promised never to ditch you again?" Mulder divided his
attention between her and the road.
"Not really. You'd mean it as you made the promise, but for a man with a
photographic memory you have convenient lapses. You'd forget you'd made the
promise when the next dead end lead came around. You'd forget until you were
half way to God-knows-where doing God-knows-what and then decide not to
upset me by calling and telling me I'd been ditched again."
Mulder felt his own anger rising. "You have it all figured out, don't you?"
he spat.
"I know you too well. And sometimes that frightens me." She turned from him,
looking out the window at the blur of passing scenery.
"So... what? Are you asking for a transfer?" Mulder gripped the wheel,
feeling it dig into his palms. Please no, he silently willed. This can't be
happening. He was doing it again. Screwing up. Losing her again. And this
time he had no one to blame but himself.
"I don't know. The X-Files have become my life as well, Mulder. I've
dedicated everything to our work. I've lost so much to it. I don't know. Do
I need a change? Do I need to get out now when there's still a slight chance
I can? CAN I allow myself to get out? I don't know. But I do know I can't
handle you running off into the sunset anymore." She was looking at her
hands folded daintily into her lap. She sounded... tired. Defeated. Alone.
"I promise I won't ditch you anymore, Scully. I know you don't trust that,"
he spat angrily, "but I promise. Can't you at least give me a chance?"
She looked up at him, her eyes demanding his attention. "I don't know. Can I?"
XXX
THREE MONTHS LATER
9:05 PM
The soft clicking of the needles was the only sound in the room. A steady
rhythm of sound and flashes of movement that wove a pattern of the sea green
yarn.
Angie Hagenboum stopped the needles when she saw she had a visitor.
"Hello. Oh my, looks like you've had a bad day." She went back to her
knitting, but focused half her attention on the young man before her. He was
very handsome. Tall and athletic. His dove gray suit was immaculately
pressed, and his tie was enough to make her dizzy. He also looked
completely, miserably depressed.
"You could say that." He sighed and sat in the Victorian chair beside hers.
"She still won't talk to me, or acknowledge I exist."
Angie nodded. "It's hard for her too, Fox. These things take time.
Persistence is the key."
Angie had gotten to know Fox Mulder better in the past two months. She knew
him for the longest time only as 'Dana's young man'. She'd seen him coming
and going from her neighbor's apartment at the oddest hours. But recent
events being what they were... well, Fox needed a friend. Having nowhere
else to turn, she'd invited him in.
"Mom, who're you talking to?" The voice came from the next room. Angie's
daughter, Donna. Angie had to live with Donna since the younger woman became
convinced she could no longer care for herself.
"Dana's young man, dear. Nothing to fret about."
There was a silent moment. "Ooookay, mom. I thought you were talking to Dad
again."
"No, he is running an errand. I'll tell him you asked about him though."
Angie looked sadly at Fox. The young man had winced at Donna's innocent
questions.
"Sometimes they never give in, do they?"
Angie sighed. "No. Sometimes they don't. But I think your Dana will. She's
aware of more than she wants to admit. I think you'll eventually get through
to her."
"She's having trouble, Mrs. Hagenboum. She's in pain. This is hurting her
more then I ever dreamed it would. It... it hurts to see her like this."
The old woman nodded sagely. It appeared as if each deep line on her face
marked a point of wisdom she'd gained. "I know it does. Did you ever think
you might be making things worse? Maybe you should just let things be."
He shook his head. "I can't. I can't let it end like this." Mulder ran a
hand through his hair.
Three months ago he'd never have dreamed of sharing so much of himself with
anyone. Especially Scully's eighty-three year old neighbor. But times
changed, and everyone needed someone to talk to eventually.
"But... it has ended. It's your own stubborn nature that won't let it rest."
Mulder laughed. "Is that what you tell your husband?"
"George has been stubborn from the day I met him." Angie's eyes twinkled.
"It was half the attraction."
"Mom?" Donna appeared in the doorway of the living room. "I'm gonna go down
to the store and pick up some bread and milk. Will you be ok here alone?"
Angie smiled sweetly at her daughter. "Of course I will, darling."
Donna sighed. The Alzheimers hadn't noticeably advanced, but her mother
still suffered from it. Unable to live in the present. In her confusion she
often made things up. It was only a short trip. Twenty minutes at the most.
Donna decided her mother was well enough to trust alone for that long.
XXX
11:32 PM
Dana tossed in her bed. Under her lids her eyes moved rapidly.
//"I promise."
Pain. Unbearable agony ripping through her. Her body a mass of torment, her
soul torn apart. NO! Nonononononono!
"Hold on. Breath. Fight." The voice, Mulder's voice, in her ears or in her
head. "Hang on. I promise. You're going to make it."
"I promise I won't ditch you anymore, Scully. I know you don't trust that,"
he spat angrily, "but I promise. Can't you at least give me a chance?"
She looked up at him, her eyes demanding his attention. "I don't know. Can I?"//
She whimpered into the darkness. Dreaming. Remembering. Unable to tell where
one ended and the other began. It didn't matter. Dream or memory, it was
still a nightmare.
//"I promise I won't ditch you anymore, Scully. I know you don't trust
that," he spat angrily, "but I promise. Can't you at least give me a chance?"
She looked up at him, her eyes demanding his attention. "I don't know. Can I?"
"Yes. I swear. I won't ditch you again."
Scully wasn't sure if she could believe it. Should she give him one more chance?
She sighed and looked out the windshield.//
She moaned and tossed against the sheets. Her hands grasping at the
emptiness. Trying to hold back time. Hold back the past. Hold back the
inevitable.
//She sighed and looked out the windshield. The truck in the other lane was
cutting ahead of them. They weren't slowing down. Her peripheral vision
detected Mulder still focusing on her.
"MULDER, LOOK OUT!"
Pain. Unbearable agony ripping through her. Her body a mass of torment, her
soul torn apart. NO! Nonononononono!
"Hold on. Breath. Fight." The voice, Mulder's voice, in her ears or in her
head. "Hang on. I Promise. You're going to make it."
"I promise I won't ditch you anymore Scully. I know you don't trust that."
He spat angrily, "but I promise. Can't you at least give me a chance?"//
She sat bolt upright in her bed, biting back a scream.
She felt the cold, sticky sweat on her body and shivered against it.
Carefully she swung her legs out of the bed.
She'd only been out of the casts for three weeks. Her strength was
returning, though. She could walk. She could breathe. Her punctured lung was
just a painful memory and a disfiguring scar from emergency surgery. The
doctors told her she'd make a full recovery, and she had. Physically.
He'd left her. That son of a bitch left her after the accident. He'd
promised, he'd sworn to her he wouldn't leave her again. So what did he do?
He turned right around and left. And it hurt. A great ripping hole torn
through her heart. He'd shredded her emotions to confetti and tossed them to
the wind. Half of her cursed him for a coward, even as the other half howled
combined rage and desolation.
She started back at work tomorrow. To face the looks. The pity. The pain.
The empty office. It was hers alone now.
She clutched her pillow to her chest and let the tears come. In the dark. In
private. Where no one could see them.
There's no chance for us,
It's all decided for us,
This world has only one sweet moment
Set aside for us.
Who wants to live forever?
Who dares to love forever...
When love must die?
-------------------------------------------
THE FOLLOWING MORNING
8:03 A.M.
Dana Scully walked into the J. Edgar Hoover building with her head held
high, and her heart about even with her toes.
Her mother had called her in the morning to try and talk her out of going
in. To give herself more time.
There would never be time enough.
She ignored the looks, the eyes that followed her. She felt her stomach turn
to lead, however, when Agent Henderson walked up to her with a long face.
"Agent Scully... I am so sorry..."
"Thank you. I'm fine." Her answer was automatic and it was all she could do
to not shove the other woman aside and flee to the sanctuary of the
basement. If it was a sanctuary.
Her heels clicked against the floor as she strode further down the hall.
She should have known luck was against her. If there was such a thing as
fate, she was now the focus of its cruelty.
"Agent Scully, can I see you for a moment?"
AD Skinner's voice ripped through the walls of iron she was erecting to
shield herself.
Not him. She could handle anyone but him. Because she trusted him. Mulder
had trusted him. Confidences were given and taken.
She turned to face him and nodded. He held the door to his reception area
open for her. She proceeded him into his empty office.
"Please, have a seat."
She sat in the chair she usually occupied. She was almost surprised not to
see Mulder occupying the other seat. She looked at it, the empty chair, for
three full seconds before directing her full attention on Skinner.
He hadn't missed it.
"I'm not so sure this isn't too soon. Agent Scully, you've just suffered a
terrible..."
"I know what I've suffered, sir. I also know what I need. I need to return
to work. To carry on. I need to continue. If I don't... I'll just stop." She
shook her head, holding it in. Keeping it locked down. "Do you know that if
a shark stops swimming, it drowns? I have become a shark. I have to pursue
M... Mulder's goals. If I don't... there is nothing left. It will have
become the last failure. The final letdown. I cannot let him down again."
Skinner leaned forward, his hands together on his desk. This wasn't any
easier on him. "Scully, I do not believe you ever let Agent Mulder down."
"Excuse me, sir," she stood and turned to leave, "but the chair is empty."
"And that's not your fault. There is nothing you could have done to prevent
that. I admire your persistence, Agent Scully. But don't forget yourself.
Don't become Mulder. It would serve no purpose."
The elevator was comfortingly empty.
She hesitated at the office door. Her fingers traced the nameplate. She was
glad it hadn't been removed yet. Taking a deep breath, anticipating the
pain, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
She flipped on the light switch and crossed the short distance to the desk.
His desk. Her's now. With exaggerated care she sat in the worn seat. She
turned, her eyes taking it all in as if for the first time.
This had been his domain. Now she could do with it as she pleased. Maybe
take out some of her anger by actually alphabetizing his atrocious filing
system, or putting some of the stacks of files in some order, or even
organize the books in here. He had been able to get up and find a book or
reference from any of the piled junk accumulated on any and all flat
surfaces. She didn't have the blessing of his photographic memory.
*No one down here but the FBI's most unwanted.*
*Actually I'm looking forward to working with you.*
*Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?*
Her eyes focused on that damned poster. I WANT TO BELIEVE.
The tears began to flow, silently. She cursed her own weakness. "I don't
want to believe, Mulder. Not this."
*
Fox Mulder watched her enter the office. She looked stiff, stoic, patently
false.
He reached out for her, but as always, in the last three months he couldn't
touch her. He wanted to offer comfort.
"Come on, Scully. I'm still here. Look at me. I'm right here. I promised I
wouldn't ditch you."
She didn't even look up. Her silent tears tore at his heart. She was so
strong. He'd rarely seen her cry. That the tears were for him was unbearable.
"I'm right here." His voice broke and he backed away.
This was torture. She wouldn't see him. She chose not to, and it hurt. Her
disbelief had indeed come between them at last. He'd done his half. More. He
was here. He refused to leave. But she was refusing him, refusing to see
him. Refusing to believe he could have kept his promise. Extreme
possibilities. She wasn't open to this one. It was a betrayal.
She was destroying them. Her unwillingness to trust her heart, the bond
between them... HIM. She didn't trust HIM to be here.
"Right here." He backed toward the door, and acknowledging the coward within
himself, he fled.
*
*Right here.* The words were a whisper. A memory? It was Mulder's voice.
Scully sniffed and wiped at her eyes. Auditory hallucinations, no doubt
brought on by stress. It was almost to be expected that she'd think she
heard him here. Here more than his apartment. Here, where his essence was.
When she'd walked in, she even thought she could feel his presence. That if
she just turned around fast enough he'd be standing right there. If she gave
into that irrationality she'd spin around like a dervish, seeking oblivion
to catch a glimpse.
But he wasn't here. He hadn't spoken. Fox Mulder would never speak to her
again. She lost herself in the memory.
XXX
THREE MONTHS PRIOR
"I promise I won't ditch you anymore, Scully. I know you don't trust that,"
he spat angrily, "but I promise. Can't you at least give me a chance?"
She looked up at him, her eyes demanding his attention. "I don't know. Can I?"
"Yes. I swear. I won't ditch you again."
Scully wasn't sure if she could believe it. Should she give him one more chance?
She sighed and looked out the windshield. The truck in the other lane was
cutting ahead of them. They weren't slowing down. Her peripheral vision
detected Mulder still focusing on her.
"MULDER, LOOK OUT!"
Pain. Unbearable agony ripping through her. Her body a mass of torment, her
soul torn apart. NO! Nonononononono! She was falling... falling...
She couldn't breathe. One side of her chest felt heavy. Blood was clouding
her vision and agony ripped up her legs, her chest. Legs broken, she
realized. Couldn't breathe. Collapsed lung? Puncture? Mulder! Where was Mulder?
"Hold on. Breath. Fight." The voice, Mulder's voice, in her ears or in her
head. "Hang on. I promise. You're going to make it."
There he was. OK. She'd hold on. She could trust him. He made a promise.
He'd keep it. All of them. She'd give him another chance. Didn't she always?
Her biggest weakness was Fox Mulder. I'm just a girl who can't say no... she
mentally sang to herself. She'd forgive him. She already had. She'd tell
him...once the darkness went away.
She awoke in an ICU. She gagged on the tube down her throat. A nurse was
there instantly. Nurses and doctors poked and prodded. They removed the
tube, but Scully let consciousness leave her again.
The second time she awoke she saw her mother sitting next to her, holding
her hand.
"Mom?" Was that her voice? So thin and weak.
"I'm here, Dana. You had quite an accident." Maggie Scully tried to smile,
but failed.
"How bad?"
"You were in surgery for three hours. You broke three ribs and one had
punctured your left lung. Both of your legs are broken. But they have you on
codeine. I bet you're not feeling much pain."
"No..." Her throat was sore, ragged. The tube most likely scraped it raw.
"How's Mulder?"
Her mother's face froze, and Dana saw the shine of unshed tears. "Rest now,
honey. The doctor said you need your rest."
"Mom?"
"Later. Just rest now."
The codeine carried her away. When she awoke next it was to face her mother
and a doctor.
"Mom... I have to know. Where's Mulder? He must be in pretty bad shape if
you keep avoiding me."
Her mother folded her hands under her chin, as if in prayer, and closed her
eyes. The doctor stepped forward.
"Miss Scully, the driver of the car you were in... Mr. Mulder... was killed
on impact. Your car hit an eighteen wheeler. I can promise you... he didn't
suffer. He most likely never even felt it."
No! Nononononononono. It was a lie. It was a trick. It was a twisted joke.
He couldn't be dead. Not from something as stupid, as prosaic as a car
accident. It was laughable. She wanted to cry. She did.
Her last words to him had been in anger. An argument. Oh God. It had been
the argument that had distracted him. She had killed him.
She'd been in and out of consciousness for five days. She never even got to
attend his funeral.
In mere seconds, her world lost its focus. She was torn in half. Half of
herself was missing. It was this. The soul deep feeling of loss. The very
absence of... something... that allowed to know and accept the truth. Fox
Mulder was dead. How could she go on living?
It was fitting she had missed his funeral. She'd been his killer. His
executioner. Could she look his mother in the face and offer her
condolences? No. Not when she was the one to put him in the ground. She'd
done the job she'd been sent to do without intention.
XXX
Angie Hagenboum finished planting the pansies in the side yard. Ten years
ago George used to help her with the gardening. Now he pretty much watched
her do it and offered advice.
"Maybe you should plant an azalea in that corner."
Angie snorted. "George, you've been trying to get me to plant an azalea
there for eleven years now. The sun is wrong for one there. Let it drop
already."
She looked up when she sensed the second presence with her.
"Hello, Fox. Oh dear. It didn't go well, did it?"
"I had to get out of there. She was crying. She was crying and I couldn't do
anything about it."
"Unless she chooses to see you, you can't. You're dead, son. Live with it."
George Hagenboum patted Mulder on the shoulder.
"George! This is serious. Go pester a cat or something. Come on inside, Fox.
I'd offer you a nice cup of tea but... well, you get the picture." Angie
took Mulder's arm and led him towards the apartment she shared with her
daughter.
"How come you can see me? How do you do that?" He moved his arm in her grip.
"Because I was born able to see the stubborn idiots who refuse to move on.
And because, as my daughter would most likely tell you... I'm insane.
Alzheimer's you know. I live in the past. Can't accept my husband's death,
all that happy horseshit. Funny combination, don't you think?"
Mulder sank down into the Victorian chair again. "I'm kinda new at this. At
first I tried to deny it. I mean I saw Scully in trouble and told her to
hang on, tried to help her. Then I saw myself. I'd seen enough bodies in my
life. The sight of myself crumpled up in that wreckage..." He shivered. "I
went into immediate denial. Then I tried to stay with Scully when the
ambulance came. To talk to her, the EMT's... they couldn't hear me. I tried
to grab one guy and my hand passed through him. I'd never been so scared in
my life. It took a while for it to sink in, you know. And when it did... I
just had to explore, to see what it was like. I thought... maybe this was
what the afterlife was all about."
"Hardly. Ninety-five percent of the deceased move on immediately. The other
five percent are bound by ties stronger than life, bound by honor, or are
just too damn stubborn to accept death."
"So what happened to me?" His eyes were sad and lost.
"I think all of the above."
"I think I'm in Hell. For months I've been trying to reach her. But she
can't... or won't... see me. You said she had the ability if she'd only let
herself."
"And she hasn't yet. So you are going to have to rely on something other
than sight at first." Angie began to put sugar on a piece of toast, absently.
"What? She can't hear me, either."
"The strongest force in this world, or any other, is what we feel. You've
suppressed your emotions for so long it's difficult for you. However, to
have any influence on the physical world you must feel strongly about it."
Angie took a bite of her toast and looked at it strangely. She shrugged and
took another bite.
"I felt strongly this morning, Angie. And it didn't work. Nothing." Mulder
ran his thumb along his jaw. "So what else can I do?"
"Nothing. Now it's up to her." Angie ignored her teacup and drank the milk
out of the creamer.
But touch my tears
With your lips.
Touch my world
with your fingertips,
And we can have forever.
And we can love forever.
--------------------------------------
Scully dropped her keys on the table beside the door and shrugged out of her
suit coat. The day had been as bad as she had dreaded. Hopefully it would
get easier. There were a few cases she had looked over, and was considering
investigating a rash of drowning suicides along the Florida coast. Twenty
eight people with no previous signs of distress, no notes, no warning, just
walked into the ocean over a five month period. Florida would be nice.
Sunny, warm, and far away from here.
It had been hard to pick a case. Mulder usually did that. She'd tried to
imagine his comments on each file she'd looked over. It had felt... wrong.
She sat down on her couch and stared blankly at nothing. It had been a
supreme effort to get out of bed each morning. She was so tired all the
time, short tempered, and it hurt. It hurt to breathe, to move, to feel her
heart beat. Not a physical pain. Nothing a few Tylenol could help. It was a
pain that branded itself on her soul. She knew the signs. Clinical
Depression. Maybe she would prescribe herself some Prozac. But would it make
the pain go away or just make her THINK it had gone? Did it matter?
So much had been left undone. So much unsaid. Damnit. She had never told him
how she felt. She'd always assumed he knew. She assumed that their eyes
spoke what their mouths never had. But had he? Had he really known?
Especially when the last thing she had said to him was tantamount to a
threat of leaving. An accusation of a lack of trust. And despite the anger
his last words were a plea for her to stay. Not to go.
But she wasn't the one who left. She bit her bottom lip. She would not cry
again. She had wept more in the past three months than she had in the last
three years. It was unacceptable.
As she had lain in the hospital, after the accident, after learning he was
gone, she'd not felt like eating. So she hadn't. The IV would be enough. She
didn't want to talk about it. So she didn't. She didn't want to face anyone
or anything. So she hadn't. It was her mother who forced her into recovery.
"I am not going to let you do this, Dana. I'm not going to sit here and
watch you will yourself to die. You are alive. I have to believe that you're
alive for a reason. You survived. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that he didn't. It
hurts me too, though I realize not near as much as it hurts you. But you
told me once you were willing to die for him. Were you?" Maggie Scully took
hold of her daughter's chin and forced her to look at her.
Dana couldn't nod, held so, so she was forced to answer. "Yes. Of course I was."
"And you think that's brave? To die for someone's easy. One moment of
decision and it's over. Now you have to be really brave, Dana. You have to
be willing to live for him. You have to be willing to do what he can't. To
live.
"It's almost spring. You have to be willing to walk through a garden of
spring flowers and appreciate their beauty, that you can look at it, because
he can't. You have to do the living for both of you." Maggie swallowed hard
and released her daughter's chin, aware of the red marks she'd left on her
flesh. "Otherwise you are throwing away all he meant to you. All he would
have wanted to do."
She had hated that her mother was right. Hated the truth in those words.
Hated that she had to go on because of them. But she had. She ate. She
healed. She went to therapy to build up the strength to walk. She decided to
carry on the quest. She determined that she would find out what happened to
Samantha for him. Because she was alive and owed him as much.
But what caused the most pain, what made it so hard to accept... was she
could almost feel him nearby. There were times she could swear she smelled
him. Memories superimposing themselves on the present.
A single silent tear escaped. Only one. Crystalline, it sparkled as it slid
down her cheek.
*
Mulder sat in the chair across from her, watching her disappear into her own
mind. God, it hurt. He wanted to tell her he was here. He wanted to hold her
and make the pain go away. He wanted to tell her he loved her, as he never
had in life.
He'd always thought he had time. He always just assumed she knew.
He saw the tear caress her cheek as he could not, and feeling such a surge
of love and sadness he reached out to wipe it away, without thought.
He was startled when she flinched.
*
Something brushed her cheek. She instinctively flinched back. It had been
warm and light. For a second she thought a fly had gotten into the apartment.
*
She had felt him. He wanted to dance for joy. Some part of her knew he was
here. As Angie has said, she was able to sense more then she would admit.
What had he done differently this time? Feelings. Yes. He'd let his love
reach out.
He tried it again. He reached out and touched her arm.
*
That was no fly. She jumped up. Was she going insane? Something had touched
her. It had felt like a hand. But no one was here. Too much... she'd pushed
too hard and too fast. She was tired. Overstressed. Her mind was playing
tricks on her.
Her eyes darted around the apartment. Nothing. Nothing there. She shivered
and turned to head for her bedroom. Sleep. She needed sleep.
*
It was and was not working. She felt him, yes, but it was scaring her. How
could he let her know it was him? Without words, only by touch... how? Then
it came to him.
*
Half way down the hall she felt another touch. A gentle pressure at the
small of her back. It was a gesture, a touch she was intimately familiar
with. A touch she knew as well as her own name.
She stiffened and turned. It was impossible. It was insane.
"Mulder?"
No flashy special effects, no fading in or out. When she turned around he
was simply... there.
"It's about TIME." A voice she'd never thought to hear again danced joyously
in her ears.
Dana Scully proceeded to do something she had never in her life done before.
She fainted dead away.
XXX
She awoke in her bed. Oh God, what a dream.
"Feeling better?"
She jumped up and scrambled back on her bed until her back was against the
headboard.
"Ohmigod. I'm going nuts. I've finally cracked."
"No, actually you're just beginning to see clearly." His lopsided grin
pulled at her heart, at her soul. He sat on her bed, dressed in a dove gray
Armani and a paisley tie. If she could ignore the faintly glowing blue aura,
she might think the last three months were a mistake.
"This isn't happening. You're dead. I know you're dead."
"Death is very liberating. I've got to tell you some of the things I've
seen, but not now. This is happening, Scully. I promised you I wouldn't
ditch you again. You didn't believe me."
Scully reached out a shaking hand, and touched his shoulder. "But you're
real... you're solid. I can feel you."
Mulder nodded. "That's because you now know I'm here and at least part of
you accepts it. You are talking to me after all. I've been trying to get
your attention for three months."
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, against the wall. "This is
crazy. I should have known, if anyone in the world could come back from the
dead to say 'I told you so' it would be you."
"Well, technically I'm not back. I'm here... but not in any permanantly
solid physicality. Angie thinks it's a combination of unfinished business,
strong ties to the living, honor and stubborness."
"You... you're a ghost?" Scully reached out again, touching his cheek. It
felt smooth and warm and solid.
He leaned in toward her. "Boo."
"But ghosts aren't real."
"In that case, you really are talking to a figment of your imagination and
in serious psychological trouble. Except, you're not the only one who can
see me."
Scully blinked rapidly. "I'm not? Well, that will help me assure myself that
I'm not suffering a lapse in sanity."
"Angie Hagenboum has been talking to me, keeping me sane for the last three
months."
"Angie Hagenboum from next door?" Scully tucked her chin in and looked at
her hands. "Great! Mrs. Hagenboum wandered outside in her underwear last
winter. She has Alzheimer's. She talks to her dead husband."
"Bingo. I've met George. Nice guy, sick sense of humor, though. Keeps
standing behind his daughter making faces in an attempt to break Angie up
while Donna's talking to her." Mulder grinned.
"My sanity can be confirmed by a woman who tried to wear her table
centerpiece to church as a hat? This does nothing to relieve my apprehension."
"Tough. You're stuck with me. Now that you do see me you can't ignore me
anymore. Well, you can, but you can't NOT see me."
"You're telling me you plan on haunting me?" She actually looked worried. "Why?"
"Haunting is such a negative term. I don't plan on banging on your walls at
all hours of the night or making your sink drip blood." He touched her arm,
trying to communicate how he felt. It wasn't easy. Even dead, talking to her
about personal feelings wasn't easy. "I'm not about to leave you though. You
didn't want me to ditch you. Now an exorcist couldn't get rid of me."
"Why? Am I being punished?"
"Do you consider me a punishment?" He looked as if she'd just slapped him.
"No. Yes. I don't know. This isn't exactly easy to deal with." She buried
her head in her hands. Call the men in the white coats. Dana Scully's having
tea with the Mad Hatter. Clean cup! Clean cup! Move down!
"Try it from my side. And you're actually handling this a hell of a lot
better than I thought you would," he drawled.
"Oh God, Mulder... I'm so sorry. I've regretted that stupid fight every
second of every day for the past three months. I wouldn't have left. My God,
I kiled you, Mulder. If it hadn't been fotr that stupid fight... if I hadn't
been making ultimatums..."
He shook his head. "You weren't responsible. I was. I was the one behind the
wheel. I'm the one who wasn't paying attention to the road. It's because of
me you were hurt. It's because of me you've been suffering. One thing about
being dead, Scully, you have a lot of time to think. You were right. I was
selfish and dependent. But it was more than that." He placed his fingers
under her chin and turned her to face him. Glorying in the fact that he
could, that he was able to touch someone besides Mrs. Hagenboum, and that
person was his Scully.
She tried to shake her head, to deny what she knew he was about to say when
she had barely fought the idea of talking to his ghost.
"Yes. I was an idiot. I kept thinking we had time. I was afraid. But you
meant more to me than my own life. You mean more to me than death. I kept
ditching you in the hopes you wouldn't get hurt. I hadn't realized that I
was the one doing the hurting. I'm the one who's sorry, Dana. I... I love
you. I have loved you for a long time now."
She shoved him off the bed. OK, there were drawbacks to being a bit more
corporeal then he had been.
"You bastard! How dare you? How dare you show up here, tell me I'm seeing
ghosts then tell me you loved me three months too late? When there's no
chance of any kind of future for us? Jesus, even dead, you're a prick." He
was dead. dead. It was a finality. She was going insane. Or dreaming. Either
way this was getting to be too much. Too much for her to handle.
Mulder picked himself up off the floor. "Because it isn't too late. I had
thought it was, but it isn't. Because it's time to correct all the regrets I
can. I regret not telling you. I can't go back and change that. But I have
the opportunity to correct that now."
"How can you correct it, Mulder? You're dead. You're Casper in an Armani.
You ran out of time three months ago."
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her up off the bed, giving her time to
stand. "Can you feel that?"
Her eyes filled with tears again. "Yes."
He reached out with his other hand and cupped her cheek moved his hand to
slide his fingers down the side of her throat, feeling her pulse beat
beneath his fingertips. "Can you feel this?"
She bit back a sob. "Yes."
He pulled her close, feeling her pressed against him for the first time
since... Congress. It felt wonderful. Being dead makes you bold, he thought.
Just before he bent down to claim her mouth with his own.
If either of them noticed his aura flare neither commented on it. He felt
good and warm and solid and real. His lips were soft, yet demanding as he
slanted his mouth over hers. His tongue tracing the outline of her lips,
asking for entrance. She gave in. He tasted of coffee and sunflower seeds
and himself. Wonderful. Real. He stole away her mind as he infused her body
with desire.
She'd wanted him for almost four years. She'd wanted to kiss him, to hold
him. She'd fantasized about him. Yet she never gave in. Too many consequences.
Now... now there were none. No consequences. Only herself, and him, and four
years of yearning topped by three months of grief and regret exploded
through her. If this was a dream the alarm clock better not go off.
He pulled away, allowing her to breathe. "Did you feel that?"
It took her a few seconds to find her voice. "Oh yeah."
He smiled and bent down again, his mouth just millimeters from her own he
spoke. She even imagined she could feel his breath on her face. "Then how
can you say we have no future? It's unconventional, but when have we ever
been conventional?"
She could find no argument forthcoming as he kissed her again.
Forever is our today.
Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?
Forever is our today.
Who has forever anyway?
----------------------------------------
Fox Mulder was dead. Fox Mulder had been dead for three months. Fox Mulder
was also standing in her bedroom tormenting her as he never had in life.
He was tasting her lips with his. Sampling the forbidden fruit and finding
it unbearably sweet.
Dana trembled as he deepened the kiss, his tip of his tongue lightly tracing
the edges of her mouth. She moaned, wanting more. Needing more. If this was
insanity she'd happily live surrounded by padded walls. Please pass the
straight jacket. He softly suckled on her bottom lip.
Finally she felt him move the kiss up in intensity. He molded her mouth to
his, plunging his tongue deep within. Their tongues battled for dominance,
sliding, twisting, entwining. Mulder won when she felt his hands trace the
outline of her breasts. She moaned into his mouth.
Without breaking the kiss he pulled her camisole from her pants and began to
slide it up her body. He had to break the kiss to slip it over her head.
Breaking the kiss gave her a few seconds to think.
"Mulder..."
"No excuses, Scully. I won't let you run away. Just answer yes or no. Do you
want me?"
"It's not that easy, it's..."
"Yes or no. One word. Yes. Or no." He wasn't playing fair. Even as he asked
he unclasped the front hook of her bra. Allowed his fingers to whisper over
her flesh, to brush against her nipples as he pushed the bits of satin aside.
She closed her eyes. Let it go. If it was a dream then there was no harm in
dreaming. If it was real... then there was a ghost in her apartment,
touching her breasts, trying to do what he hadn't in life. No rules to hold
them back, no risk at all. Oh Lord, her life had just become one giant X-File.
She felt his hands on her breasts and whimpered. At first weighing and
measuring, seeming to note how they exactly fit to his hands, claiming them,
claiming her. His hands and her breasts seemed made for one another. His
thumbs, both demanding and gentle, brushed over her already taut nipples,
sending shockwaves of sensation through her.
"Yes or no, Scully?"
She swallowed around the lump in her throat.
"Yes." Her voice sounded rough, husky to her own ears.
She became lost in a fog of sensuality. It was as if he had somehow pulled
her within himself. On one level she felt him pull her close, felt the
fabric of his suitcoat and shirt abrade her sensitive nipples, felt his lips
brush along her throat. His hands touching, tracing, memorizing. Flowing
over her ribs, following her spine, flowing over her buttocks to cup and
pull her close. Oh my! Nothing spiritual about what she felt pressed against
her. Yet on another, more profound level, she was surrounded by him,
embraced by him, no part of her untouched by his essence. She was wrapped in
a cocoon that WAS Fox Mulder. Warm and safe and protected. And loved. God,
she could feel it, the emotion a charge that seeped into her bones.
She could smell him, smell his hair, the faint hint of Polo, the warm,
musky, male scent that was him alone. It was so real. Too real. No dream this.
Then he was on his knees before her. His hands again on her breasts, framing
them, cupping them, lifting them. Then his mouth, hot and wet and exquisite.
First falling softly into the valley between her breasts, his tongue darting
out to taste her skin, making her breath catch. She felt him undo the clasp
and zipper of her pants, barely felt them and her underwear slide down her
legs as his mouth fell on the underside of her breast, kissing, licking, his
nose nuzzling her.
His hands were at her back now, holding her to him as he finally took one
rosy tip into his mouth. She cried out as her knees went weak, but he
supported her, uplifted her, held her up and held her together.
Desire was so thick it began to suffocate her with its weight. She was
melting and pooling and drowning in it. Her hands clasped his head and she
could feel the short, silky hairs tickle her palms.
Did she want him, he had asked. It had gone far beyond want. She needed him.
He was as essential to her as air, as food, as the very blood beating in her
veins.
Then she was being lifted and deposited, gently, on her bed. When he pulled
back a bit she was surprised to see he too was now naked.
"How'd you do that?" She asked even as her eyes drank in the sight, noticing
the anomalies. No scars. She'd seen him naked before. She knew where each of
his scars were. The ones across his ribs from a beast woman in New Jersey,
the long, messy one on his inner thigh from a near fatal gunshot wound in
their first year as partners, the one on his shoulder from the bullet she
had delivered. Now there were none.
His smile was slight and there was mischief in his eyes. "There are lots of
things I can do."
But he didn't stop to demonstrate. His hands and mouth were everywhere. She
felt her own limbs grow heavy with the force of the desire he aroused in
her. She worked against the leaden sensation, feeling the need to touch and
taste in return.
It seemed they explored for an eternity. Lost somewhere beyond time and
space. Some place beyond life or death. An eternal place of joy where only
they and the pleasure they brought existed.
When at long last she felt him sheath himself inside of her she cried out
with the perfect beauty of it. Nothing else mattered. Just him, her and the
way they moved together. Each stroke touching not only her body, but her
soul. And when she came the world shattered and fell around her. It was
blinding in its intensity, deafening in its completion, agonizing in its
perfection.
She lay there, enveloped by him, being held, somehow, by more than his arms.
Her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as it gradually slowed, as did her
breathing.
"Is this considered necrophilia?" She asked as his fingertips traced the
surgical scar over her ribs.
He teased her earlobe with his lips. His tongue traced the whorls of her
ear. "I don't think so. I'm a ghost not a corpse. More along the lines of a
spiritual visitation. Your own personal, non-threatening incubus."
"I don't want this to end. I don't want to wake up." She gasped as his
fingers traced idle patterns on her skin.
"You're not dreaming, and I'm not going anywhere."
XXX
The morning sun filtered through the windows of the building. Mulder didn't
bother to knock, but simply walked right through the door of Apartment 37.
Scully had asked him to allow her some time to sort things out. She needed
it. But he knew he wasn't about to let go, not now, not ever.
He was shocked as he walked into the living room. The air was heavy with
something. Neither good nor evil, just there. Ominous. Changing.
Angie Hagenboum lay on the floor next to her chair. Her knitting lay half
across her. Mulder rushed to her side. Her eyes kept shifting focus.
"Hold on, Angie. I'm going to get Dana. Just hold on."
Her hand grasped his arm, at first with strength, then just to lay against
his limb. "No. It's time. Long past it." She smiled weakly. "I take it you
got through to your young lady."
Mulder was surprised to feel tears on his cheeks. "Yes. She's adjusting. I
think everything is going to be all right."
Angie smiled fully and he felt the other presence. Mulder turned to see
George standing behind him. Not the seventy five year old George he was used
to, but George as he must have been in his prime. Tall and athletic, blonde
and tanned.
"Angie, love, it's time." He held out his hand. "No more confusion."
Mulder backed away. It wasn't a hand lined with age and swollen joints that
grasped George's, but long, slender fingers, firm, supple flesh.
Angie's spirit sat up and George helped her to her feet.
She was beautiful. Young and vibrant and radiantly happy.
She turned to Mulder and smiled. "It's OK, Fox. He's waited a long time for
me. You may have to wait longer for Dana, but it'll be worth it."
George winked at him and gathered his wife close. There was a blinding flash
of light and a roaring in Mulder's ears. They were gone.
"Mom?" Donna walked into the room. "MOM!"
Mulder moved away as Donna fell to her knees beside her mother's lifeless
body. "Mom... please." She cradled her head and stroked the wiry gray hair.
Mulder left her to her grief. It was a thing for the living. He knew she
would see her mother again some day. And the only tears he found were those
of happiness, for his friend and her husband.
XXX
Dana Scully walked into the basement office with a much lighter step than
when she had last left it.
The office chair swung around and Mulder held up the file she'd been
considering taking. "Florida? Sunny beaches? You in a bikini? When do we leave?"
He was wearing jeans and a black turtleneck, not his suit. She frowned. He
looked down at himself. "Hey, I don't HAVE to wear them anymore. Only you
can see me." He grinned.
"We leave tomorrow and if you think I'm getting into a bikini, you're out of
your mind." She snatched the file from him and almost laughed at a passing
thought.
If the X-Files office really was under any kind of video surveillance Mulder
was going to have the people watching her shitting in their pants. Objects
floating around the room and self propelling chairs would keep them guessing
for a good long time. She was still trying to figure out why he could only
do it when in the presence of someone who could see him. There were lots of
things they were going to have to figure out.
"Have I told you I've been to this vault under the Pentagon that's holding
almost every bit of evidence to ever go missing on us? I also followed
Cancerman home and watched him key into his computer. I know half his
passwords. Being dead definitely has its perks." He smirked. "I think we're
about to give the Consortium hell."
She couldn't help it. She laughed. She had to. It looked like she was stuck
with him forever. And she didn't mind one bit. She loved him. Not many
people dared to love forever.
The end.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feedback welcome. More then welcome. I need it. I crave it. My palms were
sweating as I posted this puppy.
I have two more stories following this twist in my head. Actual cases. Is
there an interest?
Rhoni
The Purple Rhino
