You'll Be in My Heart
AUTHOR: BJC525
SUMMARY: Not yet fully recovered from her attack by Naciemento, Scully and Mulder attempt to take their relationship to the next level but a case of mistaken identity spirals out of control leading to a potentially fatal conclusion
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, never were, you all know it. Onward, ho!
SPOILERS: Milagro, The Unnatural (brief), The Beginning. Characters are mentioned from previous episodes.
FEEDBACK: If it moves you, let me know. If it doesn't, that's okay... it moved me.
"You'll Be in My Heart" - Phil Collins
You'll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more.
Chapter 1
Dana Scully could hear Mulder's voice as she exited the elevator. Pausing outside the door that was partially open, she smiled when she realized that he was talking to Frohike. She shook her head ruefully.
(Those guys,) she thought with more affection than she'd ever believed she'd have for Mulder's paranoid friends. Though she had referred to them as the Three Stooges more than once, she cared for them and knew that they cared for her, too. It was comforting, really, when you thought about it.
"Okay," Mulder was saying, "Just tell him I called and have him call me when he gets in."
Scully waited until Mulder hung up the phone before entering the office. He looked up at her arrival.
"Oh - hey Scully." He called out cheerfully. He leaned precariously back in his chair; a trick that Scully had never quite dared to do. And he had dared her several times.
"Hey yourself," she returned with a more than a touch of affection. She moved about the office, putting down her laptop computer, her purse, took off her coat and hung it on the coat rack, unaware that Mulder's eyes followed her every move.
Unaware, because Mulder was going to great lengths to keep Scully from noticing his surreptitious glances. (I don't - gaze - at her,) Mulder tried, unsuccessfully, to remind himself. (Well, all right, I do.) And he was doing it a hell of a lot more these past two weeks.
Personally, he was a bit worried that Scully - hadn't - noticed his increased observations of her every move but he decided that he had a pretty good idea why. His mind automatically drifted back to the incident with Padgett, where it all began.
Finding his partner on the floor of his apartment, covered in her own blood, he had been left speechless with horror. Relief that she wasn't dead was quickly supplanted with a new fear when Scully regained consciousness and sobbed hysterically in his arms.
Dana Scully never sobbed. And Dana Scully was not hysterical. Not after all the horrors she'd been subjected to had she ever cried like this. Hell, she almost never cried. (At least not in front of me,) he amended, a bit sadly. As if that incident wasn't mind-altering enough, three days later it happened again. He closed his eyes, remembering for the umpteenth time driving her home from the hospital.
She had sat in the car, holding herself stiffly; obviously she was still hurting. Doing his very best not to hover, he had followed her painstakingly slow steps up to her apartment, carrying the overnight bag he had brought her. Scully had taken two steps inside the door before sinking to the floor. Terrified all over again, he had dropped to his knees in front of her.
"Scully! Oh God - what's wrong?" He cried, his imagination taking off in several dire directions. As his hands reached up to cup her face, his eyes dropped to the front of her blouse, and he half expected to see blood, while he searched frantically for a clue as to what was going on with her.
Instead of answering him, Scully had launched herself into his arms, sobbing. Although he hadn't thought it possible, she was crying harder than before. Quickly he had scooped her up and rushed to her bedroom, intending to lay her down on the bed. Scully however, had other plans. She held on to him with all her strength and poured out everything that had happened with Padgett. Everything. Her thoughts, her fears, everything she had seen and felt when the hand had reached into her chest and attempted to remove her beating heart.
And as before, he had held her close and cried his own silent tears.
The next day, she seemed better and as was their usual MO, there was no further discussion.
Flashing forward to the next Saturday, he remembered working on those files. (Well, actually Scully was working,) Mulder mentally berated himself, remembering how he had let Scully lug those huge books down the stairs. (What was I thinking?) He silently moaned. (Well, obviously, I wasn't.) He couldn't believe he'd been that dense.
Then later; Scully's batting lesson. (Even I was sore the next day.) He recalled. Scully, though, had never complained about any discomfort at all. (Well, what do you expect? Scully isn't a - )
"Mulder? What's wrong?" Scully placed her hand on his arm and squeezed gently to get his attention. Her voice instantly pierced his painful struggle with the past and brought him back to the present.
With a start, Mulder looked up to see Scully staring at him, trying to mask her concern. He hadn't realized that she had moved closer and was kneeling at his side. His eyes found hers, their gazes locked. The worry she felt flowed from the cerulean depths and bathed his entire body. But instead of feeling comforted, guilt flooded throughout him. (She has enough to worry about without my adding to it.) He chided himself.
"Sorry, Scully," he said sheepishly, "I guess I kinda zoned out there."
"No kidding," she teased, trying to keep her tone light. "What's on your mind?"
Transfixed by her gaze, he was unable to come up with a plausible explanation. Actually, no coherent thoughts happened whenever she looked at him that way. The truth, however, wasn't an option at this point. Right now, he'd have to try and stall. This wasn't the time or the place.
"I'm fine. Really. I am. I just haven't had my usual caffeine dose for the day." He tried, with studied nonchalance, to throw her line back at her.
Scully blinked and shook her head. "Uh huh. Try again, partner." Her bantering tone wasn't fooling him though. She expected an answer.
Mulder sighed. (Well, I had to try,) and thought not for the first time that it wasn't fair that it always worked for her.
"It's not work related, Scully," he attempted to reassure her. (Well, not completely.) He amended silently. "And I do want to talk to you about it."
Scully opened her mouth to speak, but Mulder cut her off, "But not here. Not now."
Her shoulders slumped. "Okay. Fair enough." She allowed Mulder to assist her to a standing position, wincing slightly. Mulder clenched his jaw, but held his tongue.
(She-is-still having pain.) He thought in frustration.
"So Mulder, when would you like to talk?" She asked as she settled herself on the corner of the desk, crossing her legs at the ankles. She watched him closely, expectantly. If she had any idea what he wanted to discuss, she gave no indication.
"Scully, when are you going back to the doctor?" He asked anxiously, but firmly.
She jerked her head over, a spark of anger flashed in her eyes, but quickly died when she saw the fear that etched his features. She sighed. And then, to Mulder's utter amazement, she answered his question. "Monday."
Mulder's jaw almost dropped. He had been ready for a fight; anything to give himself time or the courage to get back to the talk he so desperately wanted to have.
Scully went on. "I was able to get an appointment for Monday morning, so I'll be a little late." She looked away. "I was going to tell you later."
(Oh really?) Mulder thought with a touch of amusement.
"You still haven't answered my question, Mulder." She pointed out with a smile.
Mulder took a deep breath. It felt like he was taking a leap of faith. "How about over dinner tomorrow night? We can start the weekend off with a bang."
Up went Scully's eyebrow. "A bang?"
Mulder cringed. "You know what I mean. Friday night - we don't have to get up early the next day."
Scully bit at her lower lip in an attempt to hide her grin. Point for her. "You mean we don't have to go through old files again this weekend?" she asked innocently. Point two.
"No." He said shortly. "So," he softened his tone. "Is tomorrow okay?"
The phone cut off Scully's reply. Mulder groaned as Scully answered it.
"Scully." There was a pause while the caller identified himself.
"Mom? Is something wrong?" Scully asked, instantly on alert.
Mulder grabbed coffee cup and hurried out, giving Scully some privacy. She smiled her thanks, which he acknowledged with a nod.
When he returned several minutes later, he found his partner seated in his chair, rolling a pencil between her fingers, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"Is everything all right?" He asked worriedly.
She looked up at him. "With Mom, yes. But a friend of hers needs my help and I told her I would, but now I'm trying to figure out how to make it work."
"Anything I can do?" He inquired hopefully.
"Well," she paused, unsure how to proceed.
"Go ahead," Mulder urged her. "If I can, you know I will."
Scully rewarded him with an anxious smile. "I know you will. Would you be willing to change our dinner plans?"
Mulder's heart sank. Apparently so did his face.
"Not cancel them," she quickly assured him. "Just instead of going out - wait. Let me start at the beginning.
Mom's friend is Nancy Dickerson. Her husband, Dr. Theodore Dickerson has to leave town rather suddenly and she had already made arrangements to have some repair work done. She asked Mom to house sit because she doesn't want to cancel, but Mom already made plans to go to Charlie's. So I'm going to take her place. She told Mom that I could have the run of the house and it's a very nice house in the country. No one will be there and I'd hoped we could have dinner and our talk out there. They even have a pool and stables." She felt like she was babbling but she just couldn't stop. She didn't want to lose this chance with Mulder.
A genuine smile lit up his face in relief. "Sure, Scully. It sounds great." (There is a God.) He thought happily.
"There is a catch, though," she gave him an impish grin.
Suddenly wary, Mulder cocked an inquiring eye at her. "And what might that be?"
"I will have to take tomorrow and Monday off to be there for the workmen. Her housekeeper passed away last month and she hasn't found a replacement yet," she told him.
"No problem," he agreed readily. In fact, that would work out for the best. Scully had come back to work too soon after Padgett and a four-day weekend sounded made to order.
"Well then, it's settled. Mrs. Dickerson is on her way over to give me the keys and directions. I told Mom to tell her I'd have a visitor's pass and escort ready since she's in such a hurry. Oh, and before I forget; since you'll be driving all the way out there, I'll make dinner." She leaned forward to pick up the phone without giving him a chance to respond.
Mulder was left to ponder that scenario while Scully called Security.
Chapter 2
Scully was catching up on her typing when Nancy Dickerson rushed in, exactly one hour later, looking flustered and out of breath. Her short brown hair, with just a touch of gray, was windblown and sticking up in every direction possible.
She went straight to Scully and gave her a quick, grateful hug. "Dana, I can never thank you enough. You are a life-saver."
Mulder grinned: Well he'd known that for quite some time now.
Scully extricated herself carefully. "It's no trouble, Mrs. Dickerson. Really." Scully tried without success to hide her embarrassment. Mulder wasn't helping matters with that goofy grin on his face. "I'm just happy I can help. Oh, and by the way, this is my partner, Agent Fox Mulder."
"It's nice to meet you, Agent Mulder." She quickly shook his hand. "Okay - I don't have much time..." Nancy stepped back towards the desk, muttering to herself as she dug through her purse. "Keys..." She laid a small key chain with three keys attached on the desk. "Directions to house..." She pulled out a folded piece of paper and laid it next to the keys. "Phone numbers..."
Lastly, she handed a small red book to Scully. "The security company, landscapers - they'll come Monday - and the stable boy - Frank. Frank walks and grooms the horses everyday and also takes care of the stables. You won't even know he's there." She took a deep breath. "The repairmen will be working in the attic only. We had some storm damage and if we don't fix the problem soon, it's going to spread to the living areas. There's no cosmetic work; just structural, so there won't be any decisions to be made about color or carpet."
"Well, that's a relief," Scully said laughing.
"So, if you don't mind my asking, Mrs. Dickerson, where are you going?" Mulder asked politely.
Nancy stopped in her tracks and fixed Mulder with a mock glare. "Now that's a good question, Agent Mulder, because I have absolutely no idea. Ted refuses to tell me." She faced Mulder squarely. "What is it with you men - you think we can just pick up and go at the drop of a hat - traipsing off after you blindly - no questions asked."
"Yes, Mulder," Scully jumped in gleefully when she saw where Nancy was heading. "Please explain that for us."
Mulder's face went blank. (This is not good,) he thought fleetingly, before Nancy moved in.
"I'm not allowed to go home and pack. I'm supposed to just pick up what I need when I get wherever it is that we're going. Now that's all well and good for you guys, but most of you seem happy enough to shop at any local discount store that comes along. My tastes, however, are just a little bit more refined than that, as I'm sure Dana's are as well, and discount just doesn't always make the grade with us. Let me tell you this: if there isn't one nice department store close by, I'm going to be extremely unhappy. You understand, don't you, Dana?"
"Oh absolutely, Mrs. Dickerson. I know exactly how you feel." Scully kept her eyes away from Mulder, knowing that she'd never stop laughing if she looked at him right now. This was too good. Mulder would never be able to catch up in the Game today.
Mulder, for his part, threw up his hands in defeat. He was outnumbered and in a no-win situation and he knew it. "I surrender. You're both right. Don't shoot me."
Nancy laughed good-naturedly. "Excellent. Then my work here is done. Thank you again, Dana. I'll call you when I can and let you know what's going on. Agent Mulder."
"Good luck, Mrs. Dickerson," Mulder called after her, before giving in to the laughter that had been building inside him.
"She's got a point, you know." Scully said abruptly, when Nancy was out of sight, startling him into silence.
"Hey, wait a minute," he protested. "Don't you start in on me too, Scully. I threw out the white flag, remember?"
"That's right," Scully said in a satisfied tone. "And I won't let you forget it, either."
Mulder shook his head with a smile. "You win," he conceded with grace. "Now - are you going to tell me where this place is that I'm going to for dinner tomorrow night?"
Scully quickly copied down the instructions and phone number then handed him the paper. Mulder studied the words while his partner gathered up her things and moved towards the door.
"Wait a minute!" Mulder exclaimed. "Where are you going? It's not even lunch time!"
"I've got to go home and pack. I can't take the bag I use for our business trips: suits and scrubs are out of the question. Besides, you know how hard it is for me to go off at the drop of a hat without the proper clothing," she told him in her no-nonsense voice, daring him to say something.
Scully was definitely having fun at his expense and Mulder knew it. But seeing the sparkle in her eyes was certainly worth a little grief, so he kept his mouth shut and smiled.
"Good-bye, Mulder," she called breezily, already out the door. "See you tomorrow at 7:00 sharp. Don't be late."
Mulder leaned back in his chair and carefully propped his feet on the desk. Something in her tone told him that her statement was more significant than it pretended to be. (So, we're finally going to talk, Dana Scully. Well, I'm ready. In fact, I'm way past ready at this point. And ready or not Scully; here I come.)
Chapter 3
Scully said a silent prayer of thanks that she made it to her car without anyone stopping her along the way. The chest pain had come on suddenly, just as she was getting into the elevator to the parking garage and she knew, without a mirror, that her face was pale. She swallowed several times, trying to relieve the nausea that accompanied the ache that was impossible to localize.
Beads of perspiration sprang out across her forehead as she willed the elevator to hurry. By the time she got to her car, the pain was almost gone.
Fighting to control her fear, she leaned forward, her hands on her thighs and told herself in no uncertain terms that it was not angina; it was not heart pain. It wasn't. The doctors had assured her that her heart was fine. It was the muscles and cartilage that were causing her continued discomfort. She knew her body and she had an intimate working understanding of pain. This was nothing to be alarmed about.
On a basic level, she did realize that her logic was flawed; but being a doctor sometimes meant that your denial of your physical symptoms was much more powerful than any scientific logic. She took a cautious breath. The pain was gone, taking with it any doubts that might have continued to gnaw at her.
Looking around the deserted garage to make sure that no one had seen her earlier distress, she fished out her car keys and got in her car. Since there was no traffic, she made it home in half the usual time and hurried up to her apartment.
Contrary to what she had told Mulder, Scully knew that she really didn't need much time to get ready for her weekend in the country. Years of chasing after her partner had trained her well. Less than an hour after arriving at her apartment, she was back on the road again. It had been simple enough to fill her suitcase with casual clothes and impulsively add bubble bath to her toiletry bag. Lastly, she grabbed up her mail, made sure that all the lights were off and checked the answering machine for any messages before locking her door and heading back to her car.
As she traveled out of the city and into the countryside, she put the cruise control on and was not too surprised when her thoughts took off as well. The first thing that came to mind was the Dickerson home. Ten miles later, she had conjured up a detailed mental picture of a quaint antebellum home, surrounded by pecan trees and magnolias, maybe a pond.
She couldn't help but giggle self-consciously. Surely that image had absolutely nothing to do with the airing of "Gone With the Wind" two nights ago. (Right,) she giggled again, (absolutely nothing.) She thought ruefully that she didn't laugh enough and decided that hopefully she could change that. A few more batting lessons would be a pleasant start.
Then, Mulder's face flashed in front of her. It brought a small smile to her lips. Before she could blink, Padgett replaced Mulder's face. Scully gasped even as Tooms jumped up before her eyes. It was as if someone was running a macabre slide show. Her head swam. Almost blinded by her sudden tears, she managed to pull her car over to the side of the road without incident.
(Oh - God - please - stop,) she whimpered brokenly. (Please - make it stop.)
The images however kept coming at a sickening rate. Her entire existence since becoming Mulder's partner was replaying in her mind in stark detail. Antarctica - Cancer Man - Pfaster - Gerry - Krycek - Gibson - Fowley - Melissa - Ahab - Skinner...
Scully cried out, burying her face in her hands, trying to shut out the images that would not go away so easily. This was truly bizarre - a twisted version of a "deathbed - life flashing before your eyes" scenario.
She froze. (Oh, God, no...Is that what was happening? Was she DYING? )
"NO!" She again cried out, slamming her hands against the steering wheel. "This is NOT happening! And I am NOT dying!" Without warning, the pictures were joined by voices: hers and Mulder's, the words overlapping and unintelligible.
"Enough!" Her strict rationalism, as Mulder so eloquently put it, took over. With every ounce of mental strength that she possessed, she made her decision.
(That's it!) She slammed the mental door shut on the images and voices. She locked the door. (No more. Period. I am not dying and I am not going crazy!)
If this was her subconscious way of fighting her feelings for Mulder then she was not going to fight anymore. (Let the chips fall where they will,) she thought, resolutely.
"I love Fox Mulder." She said loudly. "Are you happy? Are you satisfied? I love him. And I'm going to tell him and I'm going to show him. Is that what you want?" She heaved a huge sigh. "I love you, Fox Mulder," she whispered, enjoying the way the words sounded to her own ears. "I love you."
Her shoulders slumped with the effort and her head hung low. All of a sudden, she was tired. Very tired.
Unbelievably, indescribably tired. And so the decision was made. It was simple really, when you took it to its most basic level.
She was not going to fight It anymore. Not entirely sure if she was dying or not, she was not about to waste another second fighting It. Mulder wanted to talk. So be it. For six years, Mulder had wanted to talk in his own way and she had resisted in every way imaginable. Why?
Oh, she knew that she could probably give herself a grocery list of reasons why. All of them quite valid, reasonable, and plausible. And totally ridiculous when you looked at where it had gotten her.
Yes, she had tried to talk to Mulder in her own way. "Don't you ever want to stop the damn car?" She shuddered at the memory. (Oh yeah, that had really opened up the lines of communication.)
(So, what does Mulder want to talk about?) She asked herself. (Maybe he's ready to stop the car, too,) she mused. (Stop it.) She chided herself fiercely, with a quick shake of her head. (Just stop it. Turn off the beam into his soul for once.) She held on to the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity.
Since day one, her life, as unpredictable and unorthodox as it was, with Mulder had been like nothing she could ever have imagined in her wildest dreams. Or nightmares. His very presence had turned her existence into something out of a Star Wars movie.
She immediately cringed at the comparison. (Okay, that's it. That's enough. You are not to think about It anymore. Stop fighting It.)
She reached for the radio and searched until she found a classic rock station. None of that 90's alternative stuff. Only the classics would do in times like this. She turned up the volume and let herself be carried away by Kansas, Styx, Journey, Aerosmith, Foreigner, and Pink Floyd and did not think about It. She had shut the door on the visions, voices, questions, fears and doubts and she did not look back.
She had done enough of that to last a lifetime. She was only looking ahead and she would talk with Mulder and she would take the next step...whatever that step might be.
The rest of her drive was uneventful. There were a couple of episodes of mild chest pain, but nothing like she had experienced earlier in the garage. She managed to ignore the pain and kept her concentration on the road and the music and did not think about IT.
As she got closer to her destination, she realized that she ought to stop for supplies to make dinner tomorrow, since the workmen would be there during the day. A quick stop at the grocer's and she was back on the road.
Her first glimpse of the Dickerson home left her stunned. Remembering her earlier musings about her preconceived idea of what it would look like, she was totally unprepared for what she was looking at now.
It was as though she had been transported to Cape Cod. As she drove up the paved driveway, she admired the manicured lawn and blooming flowerbeds. She parked the car in front of the gorgeous Victorian mansion and stepped onto the white wooden porch with gingerbread latticework. She took in the gray weathered shakes and the white window frames and shutters and breathed contentedly. She had caught sight of the stable peeking out from behind the house and smiled in anticipation. Quickly, she grabbed her things and hurried inside, eager to see her weekend getaway.
Wandering through the house she got a feel of the layout: the dining room with a large banquet table, a spacious library with dozens of shelves lined with a multitude of books, and a small parlor with a Steinway piano. Her eyes appreciated the soothing, restful earth tones of the living room.
It was the kitchen, though, that took her breath away. Generous countertops, glass-doored cupboards; it was huge. All the appliances seemed to be of the latest design.
She stepped out onto the sun porch and glancing to her right, she stopped in her tracks. The pool. Brightly colored flowers, torches, a waterfall and a Jacuzzi surrounded it. The deep blue water in the resort-style pool sparkled enticingly in the afternoon sun. (Oh yeah,) Scully thought happily. (This is going to be a great weekend.)
Chapter 4
Mulder showed up for work Friday morning at his usual time. By 11:00, he was seriously wondering why he had bothered, since he obviously wasn't going to get any work done without Scully. Sitting at his desk, he resolutely kept his back to the door. It was driving him crazy: he kept expecting his beautiful partner to float in, juggling her coat, coffee, briefcase and the occasional bagel. He sighed. Nothing was right when she wasn't here at his side.
He focused on the bulletin boards and the myriad of photos, news clippings, odds and ends, and THE POSTER. Only lately did he refer to his "I Want to Believe" poster as THE POSTER. He saw it that way in his mind, in all capital letters. Zeroing in on the bold white letters, he nearly laughed out loud at the irony. "I Want to Believe." Well, he didn't believe for a minute that Karen Berquist had replaced his poster, not for one minute.
If he thought that he loved Scully before, and he knew absolutely that he did, he learned something new the day that he discovered that it was actually Scully herself, who had replaced THE POSTER. She had gone to great lengths to keep secret her identity as the giver, but she had underestimated him. That was something she so rarely did. For now, he let her have her little secret: he was still too caught up with the increased level of his love and adoration of that petite redhead.
It would never cease to amaze him that his love for Scully, which consumed every fiber of his being, continued to find new ways to grow. Sometimes, he thought he would truly burst. Literally and figuratively.
Mulder glanced back at the phone willing it to ring.
(Maybe I should call her.) He actually went so far as to pick up the receiver before dropping it back on the hook. (No. She might be busy. And besides, what would I say? Better to save it for tonight.)
Tonight.
Anxiety crept through his veins and settled in his gut. He rubbed a nervous hand across his face.
"Getting cold feet, Mulder?" asked that irritating little voice in his head.
"Shut up," Mulder replied angrily. "I don't have cold feet. We ARE going to talk." He didn't stop to think how this would look if Skinner popped in and heard him talking to himself.
"Are you sure you're going to talk? Why is tonight any different from last night, or last week, or last year for that matter?" The voice was really starting to irritate Mulder.
"Because it is different!" He pounded his fists furiously on his desk. The stinging pain brought him around and he took a deep cleansing breath. "Tonight is going to be different." He had nearly lost her too many times and that incident with Padgett had been the last straw. It had been too easy in the past to pretend that they had all the time in the world. Well, it was time to face facts: they didn't have all the time in the world. He was not going to lose another day.
Without pausing to consider his actions, Mulder grabbed his coat and stormed out of the office. He wasn't going to wait any longer. He had waited long enough. "Okay, Scully, I'm coming..."
Chapter 5
Mulder left the Hoover building, realizing he wasn't exactly sure where he should go. His original intention had been to go straight to the Dickerson home, but common sense reigned him in. It was much too early, and he wasn't about to show up in a suit, dressed as Special Agent Fox Mulder. No, tonight he was going in as just Fox Mulder and he wanted to look the part. For that he needed to go home and change. Maybe even take a shower to calm his nerves.
As he toweled off, he realized that if his script played out the way he wanted, he might not be coming home tonight and concluded that he should pack an overnight bag. The bag was halfway closed when a thought struck him: the Dickerson's had a pool. Quickly, he grabbed his swimsuit before he lost his nerve, refusing to let his "Scully-in-a-bikini" fantasies invade his consciousness.
(Not now,) he told himself firmly. (Let's just be prepared and see what happens.) He looked around. (What else?) Glancing down, he saw that he was still wearing only a towel around his waist. (Good one, Mulder.)
Shaking his head ruefully, he reached for his boxers before realizing that he wasn't exactly sure of the dress code for tonight's dinner (date?). Stepping over to his closet, he considered his choices.
(Okay, the suit is definitely out of the question.) He found his black turtleneck and instantly rejected it.
(Too hot.) That and it always reminded him of a night of "funky poaching" with the Lone Gunmen after learning of Scully's cancer. (Nope. Not going there.) He thought, viciously stamping down any negative impressions. He had several white, gray, and even black t-shirts, had even packed a couple, but knew that they were much too casual. (So, what's left?)
He caught sight of a pair of khaki pants and grinned. Their undercover assignment in Arcadia. Man, he'd had fun out there and deep down thought that Scully had too, despite any evidence to the contrary. Over the years, learning what Scully wanted in life had been a painstakingly slow process and Mulder knew that he'd made plenty of mistakes in the past, but he prided himself on the fact that lately, he was getting better at not making the same one twice.
That planned community had really been over the top, but he thought that it was possibly close to something that Scully wanted. That was something else to talk about. Throwing on the khaki pants and pink Izod golf shirt, he added one last item to his bag: a pair of black velvet jeweler boxes.
He took a moment to look at the ring he had gotten for Scully upon their return to Washington. It wasn't the exact same ring she had worn. At the time, he couldn't come up with a way to obtain it and be 100% sure that no one would ever find out. So, he'd memorized the size and bought a similar one. Truth be told: he liked the new one better. The center stone was larger; 1.2 carats, but bezel-set so that there wouldn't be any prongs to snag on gloves. He had the jeweler put 16 channel-set, 2-point diamonds on either side with the center stone set low. He had even asked a female customer to try wearing the ring and then putting on latex gloves to see if it was a problem. She had happily reported that it was no trouble at all getting the gloves on over the ring.
Mulder closed the box with a sigh. (Would tonight be the night?)
Finally he roused himself from his reverie. (Enough. Time to get on the road.) He was almost out the door when the phone rang, stopping him in his tracks. He debated whether or not to answer, and then reluctantly picked it up. It might be Scully.
"Mulder."
"Mulder, it's Byers. I tried you at the office. Can you talk?"
"Actually, I was on my way out. What have you got?" Mulder asked, not unkindly.
"Oh, all right," Byers fumbled. "I wanted to let you know about a scientist who has been doing some incredible work on the 'God Module'."
That caused Mulder to pause. (Gibson Praise.) "Talk to me."
"Apparently, he recently made an incredible breakthrough, details unknown at this time, although we're still checking." Byers informed him. "I thought, in light of your previous interest, you might want to talk with him, also."
Holding the cordless phone and pacing restlessly, Mulder chewed on his lower lip a moment before replying. "Okay. Yeah, I would - but I can't today. What's his name and where can I get in touch with him?"
"Well, Dr. Dickerson has a lab in New Jersey -"
"Wait a minute!" Mulder cut him off. "Dr. Dickerson? Dr. Theodore Dickerson?" He asked, struggling to keep the surprise out of his voice.
"Yes," Byers answered. "You know of his work?"
"Not exactly," Mulder said evasively. "Go ahead and give me the address and phone number of the lab and I'll get back to you." Mulder took down the information, and hung up the phone, his thoughts whirling.
Dr. Dickerson makes some breakthrough on the "God Module" just months after Gibson disappears, leaves town unexpectedly, but doesn't even tell his wife where they're going. He couldn't wait to find out if Nancy Dickerson had been able to call Scully. Instinctively he thought it unlikely. It seemed more probable that Nancy was completely in the dark about her husband's work, otherwise she would never have asked an FBI agent to housesit. (Or would she?)
Mulder grabbed his bag and ran, slamming the door shut behind him.
Chapter 6
Mulder kept his eyes on the road, but his thoughts kept returning to the Dickersons. There were so many questions to be answered, not the least of which was the nature of this "breakthrough". If Gibson Praise was Dr. Dickerson's lab rat...Mulder shook his head, remembering the last time that poor boy had been operated on and the look on Scully's face as she changed the bandages covering his scalp. It was difficult not to think about what he'd do if Gibson wasn't all right. And Scully. Her reaction, also, did not bear contemplating. After everything that they'd both lost, losing Gibson would just add rocket fuel to the already blazing inferno.
Arriving at the front gate, he yielded to a large work truck, filled with equipment and several laborers leaving the property. Mulder glanced down at his watch; 4:50. A little over two hours early. With the car in neutral, he glanced round, looking for inspiration when his gaze lit upon a field of wild flowers. Flowers. That's what he should have brought with him. Backtracking into town, he found a florist shop and picked out a dozen long-stemmed Fire and Ice roses, which the clerk wrapped with a silver ribbon and added baby's breath and greenery. Perfect. Simple but elegant.
Twenty minutes later, he was back at the front gate and resolutely drove through. Maybe he could help her set the table or something. (No turning back now,) he told himself. (It's now or never...)
Driving up the circular driveway, he couldn't help but admire the surroundings. It was so peaceful out here and he fervently hoped that Scully was taking full advantage of the fresh air and beautiful landscape. He stared over at the front door before turning off the engine. (Why do I feel like a teenager at his date's house?) He thought as he picked up the flowers and stepped onto the porch.
When Scully didn't answer on the second ring of the doorbell, he took a chance and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. He knocked once and poked his head inside.
"Hey, Scully! Where are you?" He called out expectantly trying to keep his fear in check. Everything was quiet though, as he moved further inside and shut the door behind him.
He caught sight of the dining room, the table already elegantly set with candles waiting to be lit. Mulder smiled. The rich smells of tomatoes, oregano and garlic pulled him into the kitchen and a peek in the oven revealed a large pan of lasagna. It looked like it hadn't been in too long and the dishrag she'd been using was still damp. But where was she?
Finally making his way to the back porch, he got his first look at the pool area.
And Scully.
Mulder thought his heart might truly stop. His legs were rooted to the ground and he could only stand there, staring at her. She was pulling herself up the ladder, out of the water, her auburn hair darker by several shades when wet and clinging to her scalp.
(Oh - my - God...she was really and truly wearing a bikini...) It was all he could think as he literally gaped at her in pure admiration and a kind of reverence. He took a shaky breath as she retrieved her towel and began wringing the water from her hair. He stood immobile - frozen - unable to look away, instead reveling in the glory of her glistening, ivory flesh.
For Mulder, it was as though time now moved in slow motion, his eyes glued to his partner and her every unconsciously sensual move while wearing a very revealing teal number that did more for him than seeing her naked in the Antarctica ever had. (Of course the circumstances are entirely different,) he allowed, feeling drunk and lightheaded and loving every second of it.
He was bedazzled.
He was stunned by the violence of his emotions and his brain was struggling mightily to make some sense out of his reaction to seeing Scully in a bikini. He had the sudden sensation of being picked up by two strong hands and being set down in a brand new world...in Paradise.
So enraptured was he, that he failed to notice that she was moving towards him. Her head down, Scully also didn't realize that he was there until they were a mere five feet apart. Both gasped in shock.
Scully instinctively clutched the colorful beach towel closer to her body as she stared open-mouthed up at her partner.
Mulder found his voice first. "Sorry if I'm a little early." He waited a beat before extending the roses.
"Here - I hope you like them." He said almost shyly. (Don't let her be angry,) he thought desperately. (Don't let her throw me out.)
"I'd say that you're more than a little early, Mulder," she said mildly, as she took in his outfit before reaching for the roses. "They're lovely. Thank you." Casually, she dropped the towel on a nearby chair as she moved past him. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable while I go change?" With a mysterious Mona Lisa smile, she went inside, leaving Mulder staring after her, in stunned amazement.
She walked away from him without a towel or any type of cover-up, inviting his eyes, giving him plenty of time to ogle to his heart's content, taking in every inch of her sculpted arms and legs, rounded bottom, slim hips, and provocatively curved waist.
"Is that really you, Scully?" He muttered to himself as he went inside to wait.
Restlessly, he paced the living room awaiting his partner's return. savoring the memory before getting back to the matter at hand.
What prompted this shift in her behavior? Still pacing like a caged animal, he began to think that maybe, just maybe, she was at the same place he was. Could it be?
After all these years of playing the game, and dodging, avoiding, and flat-out refusing to deal with their true feelings for one another, no matter what the reason, could it be that they were finally on the same page?
"Mulder, you're going to wear a hole in Mrs. Dickerson's carpet if you keep that up."
Mulder whirled around to see Scully standing at the bottom of the stairs, smiling indulgently over at him, her blue eyes twinkling.
Chapter 7
Silently he watched her with hooded eyes, as she walked slowly towards him. His hazel eyes darkened imperceptibly as they raked over her from head to toe, missing nothing. Her auburn hair framed her face with just a hint of curl and her flawless skin reflected the light of the sleeveless, flowered chiffon dress that she wore. The hem skimmed the tops of her slippered feet, and several layers that oh-so-gently hugged her body in a way that made him jealous of the fabric. The scooped neckline allowed her gold cross to catch the light, twinkling in the afternoon sun.
He realized with a start that she was not wearing heels, choosing instead to present herself as a tiny delicate flower and he was captivated all over again. He definitely intended to get this talk out of the way so that he could scoop this gorgeous creature up and carry her away.
"Would you like a glass of wine, Mulder? Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes." She continued to gaze up at him; an indulgent smile touched her lips at his obvious delight in her appearance.
"That would be great, Scully." He managed somehow.
Nothing more was said until she returned with two glasses and they had settled comfortably on the sofa. Mulder didn't see her wince slightly when her recurrent chest pain flared briefly.
"Scully, you look incredible." Mulder said softly, sincerely.
"Thank you. You look very nice yourself," she returned, taking a small sip of wine.
Several minutes of silence ensued.
When Mulder didn't continue, Scully elected to take the initiative. "Tell me something, Mulder. Would this dinner and conversation that you wanted to have, by any chance have something to do with Padgett?" There, she'd said it. Just saying his name evoked a panic that stole her breath away. She forced herself to inhale and exhale slowly, calmly and quietly.
Mulder swallowed and stared at her, choosing to answer honestly and forthrightly. "In a way. I'm realizing how much that whole episode truly frightened me."
Scully's eyes widened at his admission. He continued, not giving her a chance to speak.
"As scared as I was, and let me tell you that I was plenty scared, what scared me the most was seeing how badly you were scared. I've never seen you like that and I hope that I never do again. So, yeah, this has something to do with Padgett. But let me be perfectly clear on this point: he was the catalyst - not the cause. We've needed to talk for years. He didn't make me suddenly realize that I love you and you know that."
Scully lowered her eyes in acknowledgment. She did know that. Of course she did. "And I love you, Mulder. I would hope that you know that, too."
He scooted over on the couch so that he could take her face gently in his hands, causing a small sigh to escape her lips. Eyes bright with unshed tears, she stared up at him.
Without hesitation, he bridged the gap between them and kissed her softly and chastely, marveling at how her lips were as warm and richly smooth as the rest of her. Marveling at the pure joy he felt, he couldn't believe it had taken him this long to really kiss her. He leaned back and she opened her eyes.
"What I'm trying to say, is that I'm - in - love with you. For once in my life, I have the strength, strength you've given my by the way, to say this. Dana Scully, I love you with all my heart, with all my soul and with all that I am. I always will and we deserve to let that love take us as far as our heart's desire." He leaned in to kiss her again, deeper this time, finding her lips were as open to his seeking mouth as her whole heart.
"Mulder..." she murmured spellbound, almost afraid to move. Was this really happening? Or was it a dream that she was about to lose by waking?
Reluctantly, he released her face then reached for her hand, unwilling to stop touching her, drawing courage from her. "I have to say this, Scully. I know it will seem totally out of character, and even as I say it, I can't believe it."
Scully remained silent; clenching his hand fiercely and watching him struggle.
He went on. "A few nights ago, I happened to catch a TV interview with Peter Gabriel, the singer. You've heard of him, right?"
She simply nodded. Of course she had and he continued.
"There was a song he mentioned and something he said about it really affected me." He paused, not really believing that he was sitting here telling her that the words of a song said everything he felt about her. "It's called 'In Your Eyes'. I don't know if you ever remember hearing it."
Glancing over at her, it seemed to him that right now she was barely remembering how to breathe. He plunged ahead. "Gabriel described it as a 'search for wholeness'. Well, the title and what he said intrigued me; I couldn't let it go, so I did some checking. When I read all of the lyrics..." He stopped, fumbling for the words. "I don't know if I can describe how it touched me."
"I have heard the song," Scully said, almost too softly for him to hear. "It's breathtakingly beautiful. Thank you for sharing that with me." She took a deep breath and forced herself to get the most painful question out of the way. "Mulder, I have to know: what about Agent Fowley?"
Mulder grimaced. "Having a degree in psychology doesn't make you immune to mind games and manipulation. With your help, I now recognize her for what she is and I want to apologize for my behavior. I know that I handled it badly and if I hurt you, please know that that was never my intention. If I could do it all over again, I would and I would do it much differently. Especially knowing what I know now." He fixed her with an earnest stare. "Don't you see, Scully? Everything is different now. It's like I'm finally seeing clearly for the first time in my life. Give me a chance to show you. I've learned so much with you and about you. Please, please let me show you how much. Give me that chance. Give us that chance."
Scully couldn't help but offer up a token argument. "What about work, Mulder?"
"We'll take care of it, Scully," he responded.
"How?" She asked curiously.
Feeling like he was making progress, Mulder inched a little closer. "Your work, my work, our work. Scully, we've done this for six years now. Nothing about that changes. Nothing. Life is a road - it's not straight and flat and isolated. Our direction changes as does our individual destinations, and I believe we have many destinations. Scully, do you trust me?"
"Of course I do," she replied without hesitation. There was no doubt that she trusted him implicitly – heshouldn't even have to ask, her expression told him plainly.
"Do you love me?" He asked.
She froze. She definitely wasn't used to hearing that. She loved him, though; she had for so long now, but to hear him ask took her by surprise.
She reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand. "With all my heart, Mulder," she answered softly, not only with her voice, but also with her eyes. "I love you so very much."
He smiled and took her hand and placed it over his heart. "I'll always love you, Scully. And I promise: I'll always be right here for you." He paused. "Finding Samantha..."
"Samantha..." Scully echoed.
"Samantha, knowing what happened to her, the truth, all of it. Until you joined me on this road, I've just been traveling in circles. And that aspect of the road of my life is not the be-all-end-all of my existence. I've truly accepted the possibility that I might never know it all. No matter how painful it might be, it's true. That pain however, cannot compare to the pain I'd feel not knowing what life with you would be like as more than just my business partner and friend. I can't keep dredging up the past, but with everything that's happened to us - to you -"
"Mulder - stop - please." She placed the tips of her fingers against his lips and pressed softly, halting his words.
A dagger of fear pierced his soul. (It's over. Did I blow it?)
Scully kept her fingers against his lips. "The past is over. It's done. It's changed us in so many ways and yet we can never change it. The future..."
Mulder grasped her hand and placed it against his heart. "You alone are my future. In the future I want you body and soul. I want to take you in my arms and never let you go. I want to go to bed at night lying next to you and wake up in the morning still holding you close. I want to be able to reach out and caress you whenever you walk by," he told her with passionate conviction.
Scully remained silent. She had always felt as if there were two immense knots linked together inside of her, one in her heart and one in her head. Before tonight, if she dared to think about matters of true love, one of the knots might come undone and she was unable to imagine what would happen to her then. Men in the past had tried to get them untied and although the knots had sometimes loosened, they had never come undone. One or the other always held firm. Staring at Mulder, she finally understood.
All this time, since she had joined him, Mulder had patiently and tirelessly worked on the knots, loosening them. Somehow he knew that to get to the heart, you had to go through the head. Sometimes the knots resisted his efforts, but he had never given up. The progress he had made had gone unnoticed by her conscious mind and she realized that he had finally dispensed with subtlety last week at the batting lesson.
(Get over here, Scully.) She blushed at the memory, feeling his arms around her.
And here he was, sitting before her, professing his love, trusting her as always. Scully felt the knots come untied at last and fall away. It was as if a great load had been lifted and she suddenly felt as light as a feather, ready to float away on Mulder's love.
Mulder had watched her closely, apprehensively. It almost scared him to see her like this, all her emotions on the surface for him to see. She was usually so strong, so centered, so in-control that seeing what she had always kept hidden unnerved him. For so long, she had hidden her vulnerability behind her quick, intelligent mind and piercing blue eyes. Since Padgett, though, the façade had been slipping more and more - but only around him, only when they were alone. Just brief, tantalizing glimpses. And now, sitting here in that clinging chiffon dress instead of her usual power suits he had to stifle the urge to pick her up and never let her go.
With tears of joy flowing silently down her cheeks, Scully went to him. Her smile intensified the light. Her face was radiant as she stretched out her arms to him in undisguised welcome, in pure joy.
Mulder, his heart bursting with euphoria, enveloped her completely in his arms, smothering her with kisses and murmuring over and over, "I love you."
"Dr. and Mrs. Dickerson. Don't move."
Chapter 8
At the sound of the harsh command, Mulder and Scully froze. Utterly and completely shocked by the intrusion, Mulder took one look at his partner's eyes and knew by her expression that she was unarmed. (Oh no,) he thought in mind-numbing horror, (So am I.) His gun and holster were in his jacket, five feet away on the recliner.
Realizing that the two men in combat fatigues believed that they were dealing with a scientist and his wife, Mulder pushed Scully away as hard as he could, even as he threw himself in the opposite direction, off the couch.
Before the startled intruders could bring their guns around, the FBI agents scrambled forward and each tackled the man closest to them.
Mulder charged like a raging bull, but his target shifted at the last possible second. Mulder's forearm caught the gunman solidly in the gut. The man groaned in agony and slumped over but recovered quickly and threw an arcing roundhouse punch that caught Mulder's upper arm. He made no sound, gritting his teeth against the pain. As the arm instantly went numb, Mulder realized that the man was powerful and scarily strong. (Scully!) Desperation struck him.
Despite the risk, he glanced over in time to see the other gunman throw his partner to the floor and tackle her. He heard her moan, the heart-wrenching sound sending a wake-up call to his brain. (Finish this guy!)
Mulder slammed his fist into the guy's stomach again. The man gagged and retched with the force of the blow. Mulder followed with a hard left punch to the man's jaw that sent him reeling. Before he could take him out, though, the intruder launched an explosive kick, catching Mulder in the already injured shoulder, resulting in an explosion of nauseating pain that drove him to the ground.
Dazed, Mulder rolled to one side, but the gunman was on him before he could recover. A lightning quick punch caught the left side of his head and was immediately followed by a second, catching him in almost the same spot and then a third. Blackness overcame him quickly and completely.
Scully, for her part, used the element of surprise to her advantage. As the man's weight pressed her into the unyielding floorboards, she braced her legs and twisted her body hard to the left. Suddenly she was free. But it was an extremely short-lived victory. Powerful hands grabbed at her like a vise and managed to catch her left arm just below the elbow. She was yanked back violently, nearly dislocating her shoulder. With a strangled cry, Scully allowed her body to be pulled around, and brought her right fist into his nose.
The momentum gave the punch an extra kick and she heard the satisfying crunch of bone. She was immediately released as the gunman dropped to one knee, both hands flying to his face. Scully had drawn back her fist again when the other gunman struck her from behind. The impact left her breathless and wondering how she'd been blindsided. The pain coursed through her entire body like a tidal wave. She caught sight of Mulder, lying unconscious, before another blow sent her following him into oblivion.
The two gunmen, breathing hard, stared in disbelief at their handiwork. Neither could believe how violent things had gotten.
"Hey Cap," said the one who had taken out Mulder. "I thought you said this would be a piece of cake." He rubbed his aching stomach, still nauseated.
"It was supposed to be," Cap muttered angrily, trying to determine if his nose was broken. It was taking all his self-control not to kick the woman lying at his feet. "Look Sarge, go get the stretchers and the med kit. I want to get Doc and the little wife here packaged up and ready to go before they come around. The Boss won't like it if the goods are damaged."
Sarge hurried out, as Cap checked the pulses of his victims. Both were strong and reassuringly steady. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Sarge returned with the equipment and the two men went to work. They placed Mulder on a stretcher and strapped him down firmly with four-point leather restraints. While Sarge bound Scully to the second stretcher, Cap started an IV in Mulder's arm. He taped it securely and adjusted the rate to the slowest drip rate possible. "Sarge, you got her down?" He called over his shoulder.
"Yes, sir. Snug as a bug." Sarge replied with a grin. (We did it,) he thought exuberantly, already planning what to do with the bonus money.
"Good. Get over here and give the doc 2 amps while I get this other line started." Cap gathered his supplies and switched places with Sarge to kneel at Scully's side. "Wheel him out when you're done. I'll medicate the little lady and meet you out there."
Sarge nodded and hurriedly left the house, pulling the stretcher behind him. Cap joined him several minutes later and together they loaded Scully and Mulder into the back of an unmarked ambulance. Cap climbed into the back as Sarge got behind the wheel and drove off.
"Cap, do you want me to call the Boss now?" Sarge said with a satisfied smirk.
"Not yet," Cap answered thoughtfully.
"I guess we showed 'em, right, Cap?" Sarge laughed. "We got the doc."
Cap leaned back with a smile. Sarge's enthusiasm was almost infectious. (Yes, I showed them.) He and Sarge had been left off the teams sent out to retrieve Dr. Dickerson, having made a near-fatal error on their last assignment. They were punished and humiliated. The Boss was going to be mighty surprised to find that it was his hunch that the doc would return home. It had been his belief that Dr. Dickerson had sent the Boss' teams on a wild goose chase with the intention of hiding out in his own home. Ingenious when you thought about it. (And if it hadn't been for me, it would have worked,) Cap thought. None of the Boss' teams were even in the state.
"Pretty good, Doc," he told the sedated Mulder, "But not good enough to get past Cap."