This fic was previously only published over at the Gossamer archive. I decided to revisit it, make some minor edits and republish it here.

This plays on the "one lonely night" Scully invited Mulder into her bed, referenced by the Shadowman in the Season 9 episode Trust No 1. It's two chapters; the same night, different points of view.

Chapter 1

Dana Scully

Dana Scully had worked with Fox Mulder for over seven years. In that time, they'd fought monsters, mutants, low-lifes and a shadow government conspiracy. They'd fought for their lives, for each other, and above all, for the work that brought them together. They fought to find the truth. They had both suffered so much loss and heartache, and often only found the strength to continue, even to live, from relying on one another. There was an undeniable connection between them. It was an unbreakable bond of trust, loyalty and commitment. But it had never, ever crossed the line into something... inappropriate.

Inappropriate is exactly what Scully had always thought a physical relationship with Mulder would be. She wasn't concerned for her reputation as a female agent; she'd become "Mrs. Spooky" almost from the start. She knew the gossip mill at the FBI believed they'd been sleeping together for years. Hell, she was pretty sure even Skinner thought the same thing, so it didn't matter that they really weren't. But they were partners; they had each other's back. There wasn't anyone she trusted more. They couldn't afford to be distracted by those kinds of feelings within their partnership. In their profession, it could be deadly.

Besides, they were completely different people. Sure, he was brilliant, handsome and, when he wasn't completely pissing her off, he could be extremely charming and kind. But he was obsessed with the work, and not exactly "relationship material." He was obsessed with finding his sister, and even though he now knows for certain she is dead, the driving force behind his obsession has only intensified, perhaps becoming even more desperate than before. He has now become obsessed with taking down this shadow government, the conspiracy to hide the existence of extraterrestrials (if that's even what the conspiracy is really about). Sometimes he had barely noticed she was there, concentrating instead on the work at hand. Of course, to both his credit and discredit, he always noticed when she wasn't there.

Regardless of recognizing that a sexual relationship with Mulder was completely off-limits, she found it increasingly difficult to pursue relationships with other men. Not just because of her work, and the hours she kept, but because she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that giving her love and devotion to another man would somehow be cheating on Mulder. How messed up is that? Dana Scully's vow of celibacy, as Mulder's very own Vestal Virgin. Sallying forth on quixotic adventures with her platonic partner. Always sleeping alone. Sadly, pathetically, she was always sleeping alone. It was just as well, she mused. She didn't feel like explaining Flukemen and exsanguinations to some investment banker over a candlelit dinner. Maybe she'd wait for the second date before telling him about her abduction, her cancer, the chip in her neck, and the fact that she can't bear children. She imagined how her hypothetical Investment Banker might feel about Mulder showing up at her apartment at three in the morning, dragging her out of bed to chase UFO's. Boundaries have never been Mulder's strong suit. Investment Banker would be dumping her for his secretary in no time, leaving her alone to autopsy dried-up cows in the wee hours of the night at Mulder's insistence.

She audibly sighed at this dismal view of her life, and realized how lonely she was.

Her relationship with Mulder had certainly gone beyond friendship and work partnership at this point, and had become something much more intimate. Love, maybe? Certainly it was limited to pure and chaste devotion. He had given her a sweet kiss on New Year's, but characteristically neither of them ever mentioned it again. She had even asked him to father a child for her, in an IVF procedure, her last chance for motherhood. IVF: the most nonsexual of sexual acts. He had agreed, even though she knew he had reservations and doubts. When it failed to work, the heartbreak she felt was overwhelming. He had been uncharacteristically tender after that. A procedure he had feared would come between them had actually brought them closer together in their shared disappointment. Another night spent crying, held in Mulder's strong arms.

They had even stopped shutting one another out over the past year.

Donnie Pfaster had nearly murdered her for a second time, and Mulder watched as she shot the man in cold blood. Sure, he tried to convince her that Pfaster had given her no choice, but she hadn't been so sure of that. True to his word, he carefully drafted his report to make sure there would be no real doubt that Scully had acted properly. But that night, after the police were done questioning them and "the crime scene" was still being worked up, Mulder brought her to his apartment. He solemnly tended to her many cuts and bruises, including the tedious process of removing shards of glass from her back. He barely said a word, for which she was grateful. He then brought her into his bed, holding her the entire night. He never asked her permission or her preference, but led her to the bed, pulled back the covers and slid in beside her. He probably knew she would tell him she was "fine" if he'd asked, and that she could spend the night alone on his couch. But he obviously knew exactly how vulnerable she felt, and he made sure she felt safe. When she woke up in the morning, she knew she should feel awful. She'd killed a man; she'd been beaten up and put through hell. But she woke up with her head against Mulder's chest and an arm wrapped around his bare waist, and she was surprised to find how much it dulled her pain.

Not long after, Mulder suffered yet another loss - that of his mother. They were working on a gruesome case, a missing girl that tragically turned into a case of numerous murdered children. In the middle of that madness, his mother had committed suicide. His breakdown was overwhelming. Neither of them got much sleep that night as they lay in his bed, him clutching her with a frantic desperation, as though if he loosened his grip, she might suddenly disappear along with all the other people he loved. She held him and cradled him like a child, comforting him throughout the night while fighting back her own sobs of despair – despair Scully felt not for Teena Mulder, but for the son she had left behind. The son who had spent his entire adult life looking for his missing sister, only to end up losing the rest of his family without ever even finding her. Mulder finally got his closure, as he discovered that his sister had died as a result of the experiments "They" had been conducting on her. He could finally stop looking for her, it would seem, although Scully knew that Samantha would always haunt him. He might not be able to find her, but he was still looking for answers, for resolution. Scully wasn't sure he would ever get that, but she believed that at least knowing Samantha's fate was a start.

It was sometime after that Mulder threw himself back into the work, and her along with it. She was starting to lose her patience with him, however. He was desperate to see things that weren't there. First, there was a miserable stakeout involving a transvestite trying to bring prostitutes closer to Jesus, and then drunken teenagers in the woods drowning in margarita mix. With Mulder, everything had to be an X-File. Finally, she came to a breaking point and refused to travel with him to England, spending her weekend on two international flights and sitting in a damp field waiting for crop circles to appear. She was quickly losing focus, tired of the work, and to a certain extent, even tired of him.

That's when she'd encountered Daniel. Over a 48-hour period she was forced to reexamine her life and her choices, and make sense of all that has happened, and not happened, in the past decade. She was surprised to find she was happier with her choices than she had realized. When Mulder came back from England, they talked. They really talked. She told him about her entire weekend, about her relationship with Daniel, about her apparent visions in the temple. He was stunned; she knew he saw the change in her, not just in her willingness to believe something extreme, but also a change in her demeanor. She felt a new calm, a new peace, and an awakening of sorts.

She was also exhausted, not only from the busy and emotionally turbulent weekend of facing such introspection, but also from the weight that had been lifted from her chest. So exhausted in fact, she managed to pass out on Mulder's couch in the middle of their conversation. When she woke up a few hours later, she was still on his couch, his blanket tucked around her. She smiled when she remembered where she was. She briefly considered going home, but made a different choice. She walked towards his bedroom. His door was open, and he was obviously asleep. She hesitated, not wanting to wake him, but finally went into his room. She lingered in his doorway for a few moments watching him sleep peacefully, an unusual act for him she knew. She stepped into the room and grabbed one of his t-shirts out of his half-open dresser drawer. She quietly discarded her suit, put the t-shirt on and crawled into the bed.

"Scully?" he had murmured, opening his eyes slightly to look at her.

"Go back to sleep, Mulder. And share the covers," she smiled, kissing him lightly on the temple.

At that, he had drawn her into his arms, kissed her on the forehead and they both fell asleep.

It was a new intimacy between them, to be sharing a bed when there was no tragedy, no pain as the catalyst. But, again, they didn't speak of it. She'd left the next morning before he woke up so things wouldn't be awkward and he wouldn't catch a gratuitous glimpse of her skivvies.

And now, here she is, alone on another Saturday night. She ate her dinner, which consisted of a small salad. She took a bath, folded some laundry, then sat on her couch and curled up with the latest issue of the New England Journal of Medicine. She frowned in the silence of her apartment, still contemplating her loneliness as she flipped through the pages to the article she wanted to read. She would be sleeping alone again tonight, just like every other night.

The truth, she had finally admitted to herself, was that she didn't want the Investment Banker. She wanted the FBI Agent. She knew she was feeling lonely, but she was only lonely for Mulder.

Halfway through the article, Scully's thoughts were interrupted as she heard a knock at her door.

She peered through the peephole, and was mildly surprised to find Mulder standing outside her apartment.

"Hey, what's going on?" she inquired as she opened the door, stepping aside to let him in.

"Pack a bag, Scully. I booked us on a flight this evening to Omaha. We have a rental car waiting at the airport, where we'll then drive six hours northwest on charming country roads. You won't believe what's out there... it's a real... live... JACKALOPE!" he proclaimed enthusiastically.

"Mulder!" she sputtered, unable to effectively articulate her overwhelming frustration as her voice became more desperate and shrill. "No! A jackalope?! Why? No! Omaha? On a Saturday night? Oh, my God! No! NO!" She would kill him, she decided. That's it. Where's her gun? Was it on her nightstand or her dresser? Did he have his gun? She should use his gun instead. Make it look like an accident...

"Ah, Scully, I'm just kidding. There's no such thing as a jackalope, that's just crazy. But I had you going there, didn't I?" he grinned, flopping down on her couch, obviously pleased with himself.

"God, Mulder!" She exhaled, irritated at his farce, but relieved he wasn't actually trying to whisk her off to middle-of-nowhere Nebraska to chase jackalopes.

When she had partially regained her composure, she asked, still slightly exasperated, "So, why exactly are you here?"

"I brought you a present," he smiled.

She furrowed her brow, wondering if this was another joke. Wondering if tucked into his jacket was a slideshow presentation of jackalope photos. Or worse. Exsanguinated jackalopes. Oh, God...

Just then, she heard another knock at the door.

"Ah, there's your present now," he commented, removing his jacket and tossing it into the nearby chair.

She peered through the peephole again, and then opened the door. The pizza guy handed her a box, waved to Mulder and left. She peered into the box. Relieved, it was, in fact, just pizza. With her favorite toppings, she noted with a little smile. The smile faded quickly though, as she then considered that he was buttering her up for something.

"What's this about, Mulder?" she inquired, setting the pizza down on the table and heading into the kitchen to grab plates, napkins and some beer.

"Nothing. I was just lonely." He shrugged, opening the box and pulling out a slice. She looked at him quizzically as she slid a plate under the slice he had just removed from the box and handed him a beer. He smiled shyly at her, but the moment of honesty quickly passed. He grinned mischievously and continued, "I would have called first, but I was hoping to catch you in the bath. Thought you might need some help with the loofah."

"Sorry, I'm afraid you missed the nude scene by about an hour. But thanks for the pizza. And for the company. It was... thoughtful," she gave him a small smile.

"Anytime. I figured you'd only had rabbit food for dinner anyway and needed some sustenance," he said, taking a swig of beer.

He knows me too well, she thought.

They chatted pleasantly for a while, bantering about the past week's work, discussing her most recent family outing, and his day of video game geekdom spent with the Gunmen. It was light and casual, a normal Saturday evening between two ordinary people. However, the normalcy of the evening struck her as being completely abnormal for them, which succeeded in unnerving her some. There was something new in the air, but rather than making her uncomfortable, she was actually enjoying herself. She remembered that she had been lonely too.

They finished the pizza and a second round of beers, and Scully gathered up the plates and the empty pizza box and brought them into the kitchen. Mulder followed behind her with the empty beer bottles for the recycling bin. Scully quickly washed the dishes and Mulder put them back into the cabinet for her. She inwardly smiled at the level of comfort between them. He was being charming this evening, more attentive than usual, and there was definitely something different about him. She thought there might be something different about her too. She felt more of a willingness to get close to him, more of a desire. She was used to quelling that desire, and she wasn't sure she wanted to any longer. In fact, she was sure she didn't. Why not stop now?

"Well, I should probably let you get back to your evening of peaceful solitude, Scully. Thanks for putting up with me and keeping me company," he smiled at her, and turned to walk back into the living room to get his jacket.

Without thinking, she reached out and caught his wrist with her right hand, turning him back around to face her.

"No," she said softly. "Don't go."

She was still holding onto his wrist and she took a step towards him, invading his personal space. She looked up at him, unable to prevent the words from spilling out, unable to mask her need. "I was lonely too."

He looked at her with a combination of fascination and disbelief. With his free hand, he reached out and pushed a strand of her hair back behind her left ear. She closed her eyes and breathed in his touch. She tentatively moved closer, his hand still on her face, caressing her temple. Her right hand released his wrist and ran up his left arm. His right hand moved from her temple to the back of her neck. He pulled her closer to him and brushed his lips against hers briefly, as though testing the waters. It was light, lingering and electric, much like their first kiss but this time not nearly so chaste.

She gasped a little at the feel of his lips, and moved in to kiss him again, deeper this time. She inhaled his scent while still tasting his kiss, mesmerized by the sensation. His stubble was rough against her sensitive skin, but she didn't care. He was her work partner; she wasn't supposed to be doing this. But she didn't care.

Their kissing became more passionate, more frantic. She didn't want to come up for air. She was sure if they broke contact that one of them would come to their senses and stop this. Point out that they shouldn't be doing this. But then they would stop doing this. She liked this. She craved it. She couldn't believe how incredible it was to just kiss him.

He finally broke away from her mouth and began kissing a trail down her neck with the same level of intensity.

"Scully," he moaned into her ear. "We probably shouldn't be doing this." But he didn't stop kissing her neck. In fact, he had begun running his left hand up the back of her shirt.

"I know, I know. Maybe we should stop," she said dutifully, half-heartedly. Her hands slid up the front of his shirt onto his bare stomach, reaching up his chest.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked as he continued kissing her neck, his mouth traveling down to her collarbone.

"Oh dear God, no," she replied emphatically.

At that, he pressed against her, and she leaned into the cabinet behind her. At that, he kissed her even harder. He then placed both hands under the back of her shirt, running his hands up her back.

"Mulder...?" she said between kisses.

"Hmm?" he inquired, his fingers sliding under her bra strap.

"Let's take this somewhere else," she risked breaking the spell by suggesting they take it farther, and into her bed.

She led him to her bedroom, stopping every few feet to continue kissing him. Once they entered her room, she closed the door behind him, the only light in the room from the lamp on her nightstand. She gently pushed him onto the bed. She stood in front of him, slowly unbuttoning her blouse to reveal a lacy black bra. She was glad she had worn her nicer lingerie on this of all evenings, a fortunate result of it having been laundry day. (She didn't wear her nice undergarments to chase monsters in dark alleys. She had learned that lesson a long time ago.)

She let her shirt fall to the floor then did the same with her slacks, revealing a matching pair of lace panties. She heard him take in a sharp breath as his eyes took her in. This was uncharacteristic of her to be so sexual, so bold. But she was looking to change her ways. Tonight seemed a good night to start.

He pulled her closer to him and began running his hands over her body. He caressed her stomach while planting soft, wet kisses across her chest. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and began kissing him again.

"Scully...," he hesitated, pulling away slightly. He was still touching her, but he looked troubled. Uh oh, this is it, she thought. He's going to be the responsible one and stop this.

He exhaled a long breath and continued, looking at her deeply. "I want you to know this isn't what I intended when I came over here tonight. I honestly just wanted to spend time with you. I didn't expect... this. I want you to know that I still don't. Expect it, I mean," he said carefully, obviously needing to be honest with her but still looking afraid she would take the out he was giving her.

"I didn't expect this either, Mulder. But it's okay," she smiled. "It's better than okay, it's actually... perfect."

Relieved by her encouragement, he returned her smile, and shifted her off of him and onto her back. She helped him remove his shirt and ran her hands over his smooth chest, before tucking both hands into the waist of his jeans. She pulled him closer, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He stood up and pushed them to the floor, stepping out of them, also discarding his socks and shoes. He moved on top of her, and she could feel his erection against her hip through his boxers. A pleasantly large erection, she noted. As they removed their last articles of clothing, she couldn't believe they were actually doing this. It was unbelievable. And it felt unbelievable.

Neither of them mentioned protection. It wasn't like she was concerned about pregnancy, although what a wonderful miracle that would be. She didn't want to ruin the moment by bringing up something that would just remind them of her infertility.

The next morning, she woke up reaching for him, but he wasn't there. She groggily wondered if the whole thing had just been a dream. No, he had definitely been there. She smelled like him, and smelled like sex. She was sore from all of the activity. Three times, she remembered, unable to stop the blush that crept up her cheeks, and the giddy smile that followed. She was still naked, wrapped in her sheet, and her clothes were on the floor where she'd left them. She noticed his were gone. She looked at the clock. 10:05. It had been a pretty long and exhausting night, but she couldn't believe she'd slept so long. She tried not to be too hurt he wasn't still there. She just hoped he didn't regret it.

She got up, slipped on her robe and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Sitting on her counter was a note.

"You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you. I'm going home to shower and change. Call me when you read this and we can make plans for the day if you're free.

You're amazing. I can't stop thinking about you.

Yours,

Mulder"

She blushed at the intimacy of the last line and sighed happily. She didn't know where this was going, or what dangers were ahead. But all she knew was that she wasn't lonely anymore.

She reached for the phone and dialed.