Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me! I'm only borrowing them and they shall be returned in one piece. They really belong to FOX, Chris Carter, the Dashing David Duchovny and the Glamorous Gillian Anderson. The dialogue comes directly from the episode Permanum in season 8. And the quote is from Trust No1. I have always wondered if these two events were linked somehow and the end of season 7, and been desperate to play with them so… here goes… and as far as time line goes – I'm placing the two events close together - if the show can be vague so can I!!
I'd like to say Thank you a million times over to my wonderful friend Amy, for re-awakening the X-phile within, and reminding me why the X-Files was my favourite show for almost ten years!!
Shades of Grey.
By Rianne
"One lonely night you invited Mulder to your bed… I know I was as surprised as you were." – Trust No1.
It was the click of her heels on the hall floor that roused him from his dreams of drowning in his own darkness.
Her pace was slow and laboured, a forced and measured step. Tapping against the tiles like a countdown.
The rattle and turn of the key in her lock dragging him closer to the surface.
By the time her apartment door swung open towards where he lay, sweeping him with a draft of frigid air, he realised that he already knew.
It had not taken.
From the moment he had let himself into her place the air in the room had been charged with a floating cloud of expectation, fear and anticipation. He had hovered for a moment in the doorway unsure. Feeling like a stranger in a place that the darkness had rendered oddly unfamiliar to him. The main room was cloaked in it, except for one single pool of light that spilt from an ornate lamp on an end table. She had left it on to mimic life in the small apartment. Yet it gave off no warmth. No feeling of home was cast by its eerie glow.
The darkness seemed almost fitting somehow, the perfect cover, for he seemed to spend half his life living in the shadows and hiding his true feelings from the light of day.
He waited. Uncomfortably impatient.
An unsettling feeling of change on the horizon kept him twisted and squirming fitfully on her soft brown couch before exhaustion had finally won out and he had slept.
As she stepped into the room, glad to feel herself slipping into the lull of comforting surroundings, the soothing caress of home was miserably fleeting as her eyes accustomed to the heavy dark.
She did not jump as he quietly murmured her name and dazedly slipped from his recline on her sofa. She could do nothing but watch, feeling like she swayed gently in the ebb of her sorrow. She was bewitched a moment by the fluid way in which he unfurled his long form till he landed on his feet.
His easy movement through the shadows for a moment sharpened the pain that had numbed her chest. He was so accustomed to the darkness, and the sadness.
She had not invited him there, and yet she had known to expect him.
She knew him too well, knew how much he cared, and knew how much of his own he had balanced so precariously at the tip of the stake with her. His words drifted back to her.
"I just… I wouldn't want this to come between us."
She would have to tell him. She had been rehearsing this all the way home, but she would have to speak the words out loud now. Speak the truth that was crushing her soul. A truth, which might crush the fragile silk web of affectionate connections that had recently begun to spin between herself and the vulnerable man before her.
Her partner, her friend, her…
"I must have dozed off," he was saying distractedly, "I was waiting for you to get back…"
Their eyes met through the shadows. The look he gave almost broke her. That tightly wound control she prided herself on began to slip precariously through her resolute grip, beginning to crumble at the edges. That look in his eyes. He knew. He knew without her even having to say anything.
Yet he was still standing there.
On tenterhooks waiting.
Feeling the time click by and still not feeling ready.
The world around them seemed to slow down.
Her gaze flicked to his chest, the warm strength of his arms. She wanted to be there. Wanted that simple salve to her pain. Wanted to indulge her weaknesses.
But did he? Did he still want to be here, now…
Yet that look was still there, the one she was searching for, desperate, holding her breath to see. And there it was, and she wondered how she could have even questioned it. That look of affection that brightened the hazel to a gleam, that look which had recently made her wonder more and more.
What did it mean now that it was combined with the cosy situation that they were, they had been, attempting to create for themselves, albeit without placing a name upon it… a mother, a father, a child…
She knew he loved her. Had known he loved her for a long time, at least as long as she had known she loved him. Yet it was just love in a vague sense.
No, that was not true at all. It was not vague, but it was undefined. The thinly veiled innuendo all these years, the gentle, but sure pressure of his touch to the small of her back, the way his fingers seemed to linger leaving an imprint of warmth through her clothing. It stirred her.
She knew that even by kind standards she would be classed as out of the game, the dating game that was, but her daily interactions with Mulder, the way they sparred and their eyes flashed, it kept her alive inside. That look in his eyes, it made her hope. Maybe… just maybe…
Yet now, now that her body, now that she had failed to…
She studied him, her brow furrowing as the corners of her eyes began to sting with repressed tears.
"It didn't take, did it." It wasn't really a question. There was no need.
His tone gave away nothing; he was slipping deep, deep into his thoughts.
"I guess it was too much to hope for…" she sounded so small, so frightened.
She could only look up at him in glances, too jittery to keep a steady connection. Her chin was quivering with repressed emotion. Her soulful eyes glittering in the darkness.
She lifted her arms in a vague lifeless shrug.
She looked so small to him, her eyes glistening with the tears she was desperate to shed, yet she held back. Afraid of showing him, no he shook that idea in a moment, she was not afraid to show him. He knew she trusted him without question. She was afraid of opening the floodgates; afraid that once she did there was no going back.
He could understand that. The tremble filled chills of excitement he had felt upon waking that morning, knowing that today was the day, the day they would find out. They would finally know, finally! After all the waiting, all the nerves, all the disappointment and sadness of the previous failed attempts, all the unfamiliar awkwardness which had in fact brought them so much closer. Today they would finally get that answer.
And here it was, his precious answer, and it left a bad taste in his mouth, a low pain in his stomach.
He had wanted it to work so desperately, wanted to do something right for her for once. After all that had been taken from her, all he felt that he was responsible for. All that had happened to her whilst dragged along on his thankless and relentless pursuit of his truth. If only he was able to make her happy in this one simple way, and he wanted this, he wanted to have this with her so much. Yet he knew she had worried that his acceptance was a way to relieve his guilt.
Direct as always she had even come right out and said just that to him. Had brought that thought into his head, and he could see how it would have seemed a much simpler way to accept her request, yet it was not true. He had not done it to release the grip of his own relentless demons.
Yet had it been true it might have been easier to admit too than the real truth; that he had been awed by the fact that she had even asked him. Considered him worthy.
Yet now…
He wanted to fix it, wanted to make it all better, take away the pain that creased her beautiful forehead and darkened her eyes with sadness.
On her periphery she saw him move, his head shaking gently from side to side in a comforting motion as he swept her into the arms she had longed to feel. Her arms instinctively grasping back, suddenly finding their way around his neck, clinging to him. Swallowing her up in a wave of warmth and love.
"It was my last chance."
The words slipped from her lips in a dreamlike slur of syllables. Sounds drawn out of her that crashed into the silence as another cresting wave of sadness thundered as she felt his comforting heat flow into her.
The emphasis on the word 'last' echoed, swirled in the darkness around them. Gripped his heart.
Their child… it was just too hard to think about.
And then the world was racing again, ploughing on ahead of them whether they were ready or not.
He felt her pull back, felt a single splash of wet against his neck as a tear escaped her with the motion.
His lips made contact with the curve of her forehead, the room around them beginning to spin.
She was gasping for breath behind her tears. He felt the deep intake she snatched as his mouth caressed against her soft skin.
His palms barely grazing her jacket as held her steady, gently, afraid she might shatter under the weight of his touch.
Slowly he dipped his head, resting his forehead against hers. Feeling the trembles running through her.
"Never give up on a miracle,"
He heard his words and felt her gentle response as if he watched it from yards away. He knew nothing he could say would truly help and he felt lost to the hopelessness of it all.
Then she was moving again, reaching up her fingers to encircle the back of his neck, drawing his face down towards her as she rose on tiptoes. She brought their bodies back into full contact as she pressed a desperate kiss to his cheek and then slid the soft warmth of her lips along to his jaw, his neck. His skin warmed under the breeze of her breath as she nuzzled for his pulse. Her fingers flexing desperately at the tendons on his neck as his arms tightened around her again, allowing her to bury her face into the curve of his shoulder blacking out the light.
Her baby, their baby. Her sobbing increased as she thought back to that morning when she had stood before her bedroom mirror, her palm laid against the slight curve of her belly. She had been so hopeful. Positive thinking. Dreaming of holding that tiny bundle in her arms, of cuddling, of nursing, of the proud expressions on Mulder's face at first words and first steps and…
Her whole body heaved as she was wracked with another wave of sadness. What had she ever done to deserve this? What had Mulder ever done? Why such bad luck at every turn?
How long they stood like that, listening to each other's soft sad breathing, feeling the sorrow burden their hearts and slow their rhythmic beats, neither could tell. But it was long enough for her trembles to fade. She leant heavier against him, exhaustion weakening her to a deadweight.
In a gentle, sweeping motion he lifted her, curling her legs up so he could carry her. She made no motion to stop him. Walking slowly, he manoeuvred his way to her bedroom, guiding her carefully through the doorway and laying her into the soft of her bed.
He stood back a moment, waiting for a response from her, yet she just lay shivering, her red hair fanned out against the dark sheets.
Crouching by her side he reached out tentatively, caressing a rogue strand of fire away from her cheek, feeling the silk of it as it slipped through his fingers. She blinked slowly at him, a gleam of moonlight through the blinds caught on the trail of her tears turning them to silver.
He moved closer, sliding a warm hand under her back, guiding her up to sit as he gently eased her out of her dark suit jacket, before lowering her back down as if she were precious. Her boots followed next, he slid them to the floor by the bed. His touch held a reverence, a shyness, which belied nothing but the utmost respect.
Upon reaching the side snap of her trousers he paused. Their eyes made slight contact, the dim lamp in the other room filtering in. Saying nothing she lifted her hips and let him slide the dark material away. In one smooth motion she was immediately covered with the comforter, feeling it sweep over her tired legs, and soothe over her skin.
Her eyes were already closed, and her senses sinking into the darkness when she felt the bed dip and the warm brush of his lips against her temple.
He was leaving! He couldn't leave.
She reached out, flailing in the darkness, managed to capture his strong wrist, feeling his pulse beat beneath the skin as she encircled it.
She couldn't say it. She just didn't know how to ask. It was too quiet to break the silence with words.
Yet he knew. She saw his nod of agreement illuminated by the glow from the other room. His warm palm closed over her hand, squeezed gently and then eased her fingers loose. He stood, blocking the light and disappeared for a moment.
Yet she realised that she had nothing to fear when seconds later the lamp in the main room flicked dark and she heard the weight of his footsteps as he returned to her.
She could only make out his form as the darkest shade of the shadows. Could hear his careful motions, removing his shoes, the heavy clunk of his watch on her dresser, the rasp of the zipper on his jeans and then the sound of them being drawn down and off each leg.
Then the bed dipped a second time, much lower this time as she felt his cautious slide under the comforter. He was trying to be as quiet as possible, careful not to get too close to her, clearly not wanting to smother her or worse frighten her. But just knowing he was there; within her reach was enough for the whimper to ache from her lips. Without thinking he curled her tight to him, knowing that the vast pain she had opened up to was too overwhelming for her to fight.
He rocked her, wordlessly letting his palms caress up and over her back in a rhythmic soothing motion, warming her as he felt her hot tears soak through the material of his top and sear his skin. She felt so small in his arms.
Eventually she slept. The exhaustion too powerful for her to fight.
But he just could not join her. He lay with her head resting against his chest, her tiny fingers clutching a handful of his top, listening to her breathing even out and slow, the bed beneath and around him was inviting and soft, but he just couldn't rest.
All he could see when he closed his eyes was the expression on her face the day he had told her that he would help her, help them, have a child. He had never seen her more beautiful. Her eyes had danced. He had made her happy. Even if it was just for that moment and she had felt so good in his arms, as she trembled with excitement and anticipation.
She had been so nervous, so jittery when he had arrived. He had never seen her like that before. Even asking him the fateful question that had started all of this she had been calm and collected and Scully.
Yet she had barely been able to look him in the eye, twisting her fingers and fidgeting. He had wanted to shout from the rooftops that Yes he would, of course he would, but he knew it was a big decision, a huge decision and one not to be taken as lightly as his heart wished it to be.
A baby… their baby!
He hadn't been able to help his grand imagination as it had conjured up 'their' child. A son, he'd pictured a son, with his dark hair, and her sharp eyes and mind. A boy interested in science and open to listening to his father tell him about the universe and the possibilities of outer space. He would have of course adored a daughter too, but he had just instinctively imagined a son, seen Scully cradling a little dark haired bundle, singing in her wonderfully off-key way.
A wave of pain hit his chest causing it to shudder and he stiffened to avoid waking her, her face nestled against his heart, but the wave of grief only deepened at the recognition that this should have been a night of celebration, not this.
His eyes filled with tears and he pressed his free hand hard against his lips as he remembered the thoughts he'd found he'd been unable to ignore the last few weeks since she had asked him. That whatever they were to one another then it had been about to change. They would have been a family. He had known, with a certainty that he had not felt about anything before, that a child would have brought them that last little way over the blurry line between them. The one which stood in the way of them and their admitting to their true love and desire, the one which was guarded by fear.
He'd wanted that so badly. Her. A family. Their family.
And now…?
The tears began to flow, his mouth curling in a silent howl of pain as he tried to restrain it. Smothering his sounds, his chest tight with the stress of trying not to awaken her.
Yet it was too late, she was stirring; the fall of his tears against her cheek and the shaking of his laboured breathing had already pulled her from her light sleep.
He was hurting, that was her first thought as she came around, in that moment she put aside her own pain, and remembered that it was not just she who had lost. It would have been his child too.
She wanted to comfort him so badly, she moved closer, sliding up his chest to lean over him, her bare legs tangling with his as her fingers traced the fabric up his upper body in the darkness to reach his neck and higher to caress through his hair. Her fingers capturing his face as her lips began to breathlessly rain kisses against the tears that stained his cheeks.
He dragged her closer; knowing that nothing would ever feel like it was enough. Banding his heavy arms around her small frame, flexing his fingers and his strength around her.
Her sleepy motions were slow and almost drugged, her caresses blind in the darkness. Her lips sliding over his wet cheeks, his cold nose, his fluttering eyelids, her scented hair an added caress as the curtain swept over his face following the warmth of her breath.
Her tears mingled with his, sliding down her cheeks and the curve of her nose, making her motions seem more fluid. Her kisses gentle, loving, melting caresses, attempting to soothe the pain to a more manageable level.
Yet kisses to his cheeks became light kisses to his lips before she could stop herself, gentle caresses of comfort and love and respect, which found them as they started to drown helplessly in their shared pain.
His lips parted gently and started to return the pressure, the swipe of his hot wet tongue against her lower lip sent a whole new sensation thundering through her, the desperate craving for contact making them too weak to fight off the sudden wave of need that flooded. She'd longed to share kisses like this with him. The slide of their palms over one another's back and face and neck turning their emotional need for physical comfort into a heartfelt aching.
Everything around them blurred into shades of grey. The darkness almost allowing them to believe that they were dreaming this, that they aren't really here.
Their remaining dark clothing unfurling from their bodies, disappearing into the darkness beyond their reach. The first real touch of skin on skin leaving them gasping, savouring the sensation. Their desperate motions like those of people drowning, like those on their last night on earth.
Their movements tired and slow, but they build. The sway of their bodies aimed at as much contact between them as possible, their need to feel comfort in such a basic human way, to feel the life in one another, the blood thrumming through their veins, pounding through their skin.
Floating through as they tangle in the sheets, it's dreamlike in experience as their caresses draw pleasure and the heat between them rises and they grow slippery and dizzy.
They are discovering one another in a whole new way. Exploring without sight, trusting touch and sounds and instincts and love. The planes and angles and curves and valleys becoming familiar, imprinting themselves on memory. The rasping caress of tongue and lips and teeth against skin.
He's moving now too, the slide of her soft skin against his rougher texture reminding him to be gentle. Their caresses remaining tender and reverent and close to awed for the longest time.
He is absolutely in love. And so is she.
He is caring and gentle, attentive and loving, it is she who is the first to grow desperate, her actions turning more frantic as she clasps him tighter to her, urging his hands to where she needs them the most, her body arching against his and he can deny her nothing.
His first entrance is almost without thought.
It just seems to happen, his aching thrust close to brutal, the raw, animal, sensation making them both gasp even though they are both more than ready, their eyes flying open as they pant into the darkness, barely able to make out one another's features even at such close quarters.
And in that moment they are suddenly both shocked right back in the present.
Suddenly aware of what they are doing and both are lost.
Their bodies strain desperately for one another as they pant, otherwise motionless.
Their bodies want, their hearts want, but their minds are screaming.
They study each other's eyes. Blinking frantically. The single moments seeming to stretch into hours.
Their eyes, through the darkness they both see shock, but beyond that something more.
Love.
Shared pain.
Desire.
She takes a slow quivering breath, steadying herself above him with a palm against his chest, resting on the violent beat of his heart, before she leans closer, catching the beam of moonlight he had watched her in earlier, pressing her nose to his, her eyes clear now.
And then she begins to move, slow and measured, urging him to follow her, to ignore any doubts he may have, there's no way back now and they both know it. They have both lost so much what else is there to possibly be lost in this? In finding pleasure with one another?
Yet he has to be sure, his palm reaching out to cup her chin. He has to be sure, yet feeling her lean into his touch, her lips caressing lightly over the pads of his fingertips, he knows that they are way past being sure.
He gives in, allowing her to take the lead. Her gentle gasps of pleasure building, as she shares her most intimate responses with him, their motions becoming smoother as they find their rhythm again. Working their way breathlessly to the release they both so desperately need. Friction and heat and power.
They cannot take their eyes from one another. Even as she tilts her head back, surging breathlessly closer. Even as they kiss. Both needing now to know this is real. To imprint these shadowed grey moments on their memories for later. The expressions on both faces fierce with the love they have restrained for so long.
They let the pleasure overtake them, both reaching blissful climaxes, panting as their tears return and mix with their sweat, kissing as they slow. Their final moments together in this primal act as powerful as they had always imagined they would be.
Curled together as their pulses slow, pleasure still warming their bellies they snuggle, but as the pleasure slowly fades and he lifts the tangled blankets back up to warm their cooling skin, that creeping, desolate ache slowly begins to return. It cannot be hidden from, even by surrendering to the gentle soothing pull of sated sleep.
She drifts first, comforted enough by his presence to return to slumber.
His last gesture is to press a light kiss to her hair before he too follows her, finally able to rest.
To begin to heal. To realign plans for the future.
Yet deep inside her something miraculous is happening…