Spoilers: None. Takes place one year after all things, A/U after Je Souhaite.

Author's Notes: Originally started when I was down and sad, finished when I was in a more upbeat mood. Hopefully, that shows. This is an "unofficial" prequel to my stories "Hidden" and "Andukha", though none need be read in any particular order.

Special note of the bands Thirty Seconds to Mars and Animal Kingdom, my newest 'discoveries,' for songs that help me set the mood; 'Kings and Queens' and 'Mephistopheles', respectfully, are perfect for melancholy/angst.

Dedicated to anyone who's ever been unexpectedly dumped over an expensive dinner… you know what I mean.

Thanks, Cory… the way you cut through the chaos to neatly polish and sharpen my stories never fails to amaze me.

NOTE: This is the R-rated version of a NC-17 story which may be found on my website.

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First Year Anniversary
Rated R for adult situations
By Suzanne L Feld

I lay awake staring into the dark, listening to Scully's deep, even breathing beside me.

Was it my imagination, or had she not been into our lovemaking tonight? This was the first time in the past year we'd been lovers that I had felt she wasn't with me, and I was afraid to think about why. She'd seemed distracted, uninterested, almost bored.

Admittedly, she had told me when I started with her that she was tired, but I had gotten a bit worked up this evening at dinner thanks to her cleavage, and I wasn't taking anything but a stern "no" for an answer. She'd spent most of the day in the autopsy bays at Quantico, so I didn't see her until dinner, at which time all I could do was stare at the dark, tempting valley between those full breasts and lust to fill my hands with them. As soon as she was ready for bed I jumped her, and I was so worked up by then that I really didn't notice that her responses were not as enthusiastic as I felt.

Only afterward I realized that she hadn't finished, but by that time she was sound asleep on her side of the bed.

I had been afraid of this, I thought as I stared into the featureless darkness of her bedroom ceiling. Since the first time we'd made love I'd been concerned that I wouldn't be able to keep Scully satisfied, both in bed and out. Up until the last few weeks she'd seemed content verging on happy, and I had no idea what had happened to change that. When I'd asked her about it she'd just said that our schedule was getting to her, that she as tired and needed a break—and yet she refused to take one when I tried to talk her into a weekend away. Our schedule had been pretty hectic lately, with a lot of traveling and mounds of paperwork and a few close calls, but I didn't think it'd been any worse than usual.

She was getting bored with me. I knew it.

So maybe I wasn't the most romantic and thoughtful guy in the world. I tried, I really did, I did the best I could… but apparently I wasn't good enough if she couldn't finish and then fell asleep immediately afterward. Maybe I needed to show her more of how I felt… take her out, maybe, for a super-romantic dinner or an entire evening…?

I sighed deeply and turned over, moving my head on the pillow to a cool spot. Scully stirred a little but went right back into a deep sleep beside me. Though I was wide awake I didn't want to get up, because I knew from experience that if I did, Scully would wake as well. She was very aware of anyone moving around her apartment, which of course I didn't blame her for after her experiences with Tooms and Pfaster. I still wondered why she didn't move to a different place, although I suspected I knew the answer to that: sheer stubbornness. She wasn't going to let those bastards chase her out of the home she loved… and while I didn't blame her, I was an insomniac and on nights like this, when I couldn't sleep, it would have been nice to be able to get up and watch TV.

Over the last month or so I'd begun thinking about us getting a place together, but had been afraid to bring it up to Scully because I really had no idea whatsoever what she'd say. I suspected that she might quote regulations to me, but the regs were that partners couldn't be married, not that they couldn't share a house; there was a huge grey area there. It was really stupid that we both kept an apartment when I was here most of the time, especially since this one wasn't big enough for both of us.

I'd have to broach it to her carefully, I mused as I turned over yet again, this time to lie on my back. She didn't move, still lying on her side facing me and breathing deeply. I studied her familiar, beloved face in the dimness. God, she was so stunningly beautiful, even after a long day and with no makeup on and her hair mussed. I'd fought being in love with her for so long that when I did let go the emotion seemed uncontrollable, and even now I felt a lump in my throat as I watched her sleep. I couldn't imagine being without her in any way; she was as much a part of me as my heart or brain.

I wasn't quite sure what to do about this, but I'd give it some thought and watch her closely. No matter how much it tore me apart I'd let her go if it seemed like being with me was making her miserable or she was bored—I could only keep doing my best and hope it worked to keep her with me.

* * *

"Holy God!"

I looked up at Scully's heartfelt exclamation to see two men leaving the gym we had staked out. Both were in shorts and sleeveless t-shirts—the kind called wife-beaters by non-PC idiots—despite the cool temperatures, carrying gym bags. Since our present case involved weightlifters, I wasn't surprised to see that both of them were massively muscled, enough that neither could put their arms all the way down nor did they have visible necks from where I sat. "You find that impressive, Scully?" I said, closing the file I'd been perusing. "I find it rather grotesque."

"It's impressive at first glance but you're right; it's not really attractive," she said thoughtfully, still watching the men walk through the parking lot across the street. "Although a woman does have to wonder what it would be like to have one of them banging her head against the headboard."

"He'd have to get it up first," I noted snidely. "Steroids make a man impotent, which you as a medical doctor should well know."

Just then our suspect exited the gym and we hopped out of the car. But the minute he saw us coming he rabbited, so we had the fun and adrenaline of a foot chase through the back alleys of D.C. I darted down a side alley then came around the next street to cut him off; Scully caught him and slowed him enough so that I could grab him as I came up on the left. I swung him around into a nearby wooden board fence, stunning him so we could easily get the cuffs on. "Think he might be our counterfeiter?" I panted as we pushed him back towards the car. He was a trainer, not a lifter, but even so I kept a close eye on him in case he tried to get away again.

Scully was looking at me oddly. "You all right, Mulder? You seem to be breathing a bit hard for the length of that run."

"I ran a block more than you," I pointed out. And I had still caught up with them easily enough, I thought with some annoyance.

"When was your last physical? You are over forty now," she said.

"What, you saying I'm out of shape?"

"I'm just saying maybe you need to work out more; the metabolism does change around forty—it's a proven fact."

"Jesus Christ, I got caught by 'McMillan and Wife'," the suspect grumbled, glaring back at me.

I gave his cuffed arms a rough shake. "Oh shut up!" we both snapped.

* * *

Later that day, when we were in the office doing paperwork for the collar, it occurred to me that maybe I should do something special to mark our first year together; perhaps that would help show how thoughtful and romantic I could be as I'd been thinking last night before I'd finally dozed off. I remembered the exact date that Scully had climbed into my bed, so why not use that as a starting point?

I waited until she left the office before calling one of the most expensive restaurants in D.C. and reserving a private room for Friday night. Our unofficial "anniversary" was tomorrow, but what I had in mind should go late enough that we wouldn't want to do it on a weeknight. The private rooms at La Fantasias were curtained, secluded alcoves, though certainly not enough for what I had planned for the latter part of the evening. For the first part I had something important to ask her, and I promised myself come hell or high water that I would do it and end the tension that wondering about it was causing me. If she said no, she said no; at least my uncertainty would be at an end.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully; when we left the office I mentioned to Scully that I had to run some errands on the way home so I'd be over a bit later than usual. But before I could ask if she wanted me to pick something up for dinner she said, "Mulder, I'm pretty tired. Do you mind if we each sleep in our own beds tonight? You were very restless last night."

I agreed, pretending it didn't bother me, but between this and her ogling the weightlifters earlier I was getting seriously worried. My best guess was that I wasn't man enough for her anymore, but that certainly was a problem I could do something about—if she'd let me.

* * *

Friday night arrived after a long, tiring week. Tuesday we'd been sent to Tulsa to check out a reported haunting that had been causing a big brand-name hotel to lose business. It turned out to be a cable in the elevator shaft wearing out and causing the odd moaning noise, quite the disappointment for me. I made no attempt to sleep with Scully nor did she mention it; the two nights we were there we each went to our own rooms without discussion.

I had already asked her to wear something special for our dinner out even though she didn't know where we were going and, when I let myself into her apartment, I was relieved to see that she had listened. She was standing in the archway between the living room and hallway wearing a deep turquoise-blue gown that had a halter-type top with thin straps going up around her neck and a floor-length skirt that drew my eyes to her flat belly and slender hips. God, how I missed her in bed, both sleeping and screwing. Making love, I mentally corrected myself as I went over to kiss her in greeting. I was going to do everything I could to be the most attentive, romantic, loving man she'd ever known; she certainly deserved it, and more.

"You look incredible," I told her after a brief kiss, being careful not to muss her rich red lipstick, caressing her warm, bare shoulder lightly. The color of the silky material made her clear blue eyes almost luminous. "I actually hate to go out; I'd rather keep you here and make love to you all night."

She raised a brow at me, but I could tell she was pleased by my words. Still, I saw something lurking in the back of her eyes: worry? Wariness? Then it was gone and I thought I'd imagined it. "I'd take you up on that if I wasn't so hungry," she said, going to the closet and taking out a light, blue silk jacket. I went over and helped her into it, getting close enough to smell her lemon-scented shampoo and lightly musky perfume as well as look down into her cleavage. I felt my groin stirring and mentally told it to stand down; it would see some serious action later but for now I didn't need to be distracted.

When I pulled up at the valet parking in front of La Fantasia, Scully turned to me. "Mulder, are you sure—" she began.

I lifted a hand and shook my head as the valet opened my door. "Not another word," I told her calmly. "You let me worry about that." I hadn't said anything to her about the sale of my parents' houses and vacation property, but suffice it to say that not only was this dinner going to be a bare speck on my bank account, I could have bought us a house with cash afterwards. But I didn't want her to know that yet; once these present troubles were over was plenty time enough.

Her eyes widened when we were led to one of the curtained alcoves, the tuxedoed maître d' holding the curtain aside so we could enter and letting it fall shut behind us. I helped her off with her jacket and hung it on the hooks near the doorway, then seated her at the small, intimate table in the center of the diminutive room. The walls were a rich golden-yellow with no decorations other than a pair of clear acrylic sconces with tall, slender blonde tapers on each wall that lit the room with soft, flickering light bright enough to eat by but soft enough for romance. A narrow vase with one shockingly deep red, perfect rosebud sat in the middle of the table. Cristal was already chilling in an ice bucket with two delicate flutes waiting on the table, so I wasted no time pouring and handed one to her. "To us," I said, tilting mine towards her around the rose in the middle of the table, which was covered with a muted gold linen cloth. "To the best year of my life, bar none, thanks to you."

She colored slightly and tapped her glass lightly against mine. "I couldn't agree more," she said softly, then cut her eyes away, sighed, and took a sip of the champagne. I was baffled that she didn't look back at me; I meant the way I looked at her to be as much of a message as my words. What the hell was going on here? Was she not getting the uber-romantic message I was trying to send? How much more did I have to do??

The other rooms, a few of which we had been in on previous visits, were red, pink, lavender, blue, white, and orange—the colors of roses with the same meaning as the flowers. Hence the single red rose; yellow—or gold—was for friendship, but deep red was for passion. I knew that she knew this, and had been fairly certain she'd get it. But now I wasn't so sure.

Before I could question her, however, the sparkly gold curtain parted and our server entered. By the time she left with our appetizer and drink orders I had decided that I'd imagined Scully's response to my toast and forged ahead with my plan.

I leaned over the table to the left of the flower, taking the hand that wasn't holding her flute. "Scully… I have something to ask you, and I'm not quite sure how, so I'm just going to blurt it out, okay? If I'm a little… awkward… no insult intended; I want you to understand that."

She stared over at me almost fearfully; her hand was limp and cold as ice and I let go of my glass to chafe it between both of mine. "Fine, get it over with," she said in a low voice that I would have sworn was quivering.

I was baffled, but decided again to soldier on, and with any luck she would tell me what was wrong before our evening was totally ruined. Did she perhaps know what was coming and wanted to let me down gently? I wondered uneasily. Then it hit me: perhaps she was planning to break it off with me and was going to do it tonight. My heart froze and I nearly blurted that thought out to her, but stopped at the last minute. Instead I reminded myself that I had decided to ask her this tonight come hell or high water, and whether good or bad came of it I was going to follow my original plan.

"Scully, I want us to move in together, in a new apartment or house, I want us to live together even if we can't get married right now," I blurted in an overloud voice, too nervous to modulate myself.

She stared over at me with her mouth open, clearly surprised. Her wide blue eyes were shocked, and her face had gone nearly white with high spots of color on her cheeks. "Move—move in together?" she finally stuttered, then yanked her hand out of my grasp. My heart fell and I could only stare back, thinking that I had badly misread her and that this was not at all what she wanted.

"Scully…" I began, then she put her hands over her face and her bare shoulders began to quake; she was crying! But why? I wondered as I got up and went around the table. The server hadn't yet brought our silverware or napkins so I was at a loss for what to use as tears began to leak from beneath her hands since I rarely if ever carried a handkerchief. I stood next to her helplessly, afraid to touch her, afraid not to. "What did I say?"

"Oh, God, Mulder, you did nothing wrong—it's me," she said, muffled, from behind her hands. Hearing that, I knelt down and gathered her against me; what was making her sob as badly as she had after Pfaster's first attack? She turned and buried her face in my shoulder, throwing her arms around me, and I held her gently, still baffled but calming down. "I thought… I thought you were going to dump me," she added, still muffled but clear enough. Hearing my exact thoughts from a few minutes ago was nearly enough to make me choke. "Especially after you didn't want to sleep with me after that one night I asked if we could spend the night separately. I was afraid I couldn't, ah, satisfy you. Now I feel, uh, foolish…"

"Don't you dare, Scully," I murmured into the soft red hair against my shoulder, rubbing her scalp with my nose and inhaling her delicate scents. She felt and smelled so good! "For a moment there I thought you were going to break it off with me."

She leaned back, hands on my shoulders. Though her eyes were wet and reddened, her mascara had survived but was now in spiky clusters above and below the luminous, watery blue orbs. Tear tracks marred her face, which was patchy and blotchy and never more beautiful to me. "I couldn't, Mulder—sometimes us being together all day and all night gets to me a bit, but I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you—if you'll have me."

"If I'll have you?!" I parroted unthinkingly. "I'm surprised you put up with me!" I cupped my hands around her face and used my thumbs to gently whisk away the tears from beneath her eyes.

She smiled, lighting up her entire face and shining into my soul. "I do more than put up with you, Mulder," she said softly. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, no matter what both of us have had to endure to get to this moment."

For a second I thought I might start leaking around the eyes from a combination of sheer relief and the emotions stirred by her words, but I manfully fought them back. I might be a sensitive nineties kind of guy but this was a bit much even for me. I gathered her as close to me as I could with me kneeling and her sitting, and we held each other and rocked for a few moments. Then, when I was in full control of myself, I urged her back and took her face between my hands again. "So what do you say, Scully? If we get a large enough place that we can get away from each other when need be, will you move in with me?"

"Without a doubt," she breathed, then leaned forward and kissed me. She tasted of salt and tears, and I did my best to kiss them away.

Some time later we came up for air and I stood, kissing the crown of her head. As I went back to my seat I said, "All well between us, Scully?"

She heaved a tremulous sigh and smiled over at me. "Never better, Mulder." She pulled a small round compact out of her purse and opened it, then snapped it shut and jumped to her feet. "Be right back."

I sat there dumbfounded as she hurried out of the room with purse in hand, but then it hit me: she was off to repair her makeup. I honestly didn't care; I thought she was stunning whether she wore makeup or not, but I knew how important it was to her. And, I told myself firmly, I was not going to read more into it like I usually did.

The waitress came in and unobtrusively set the table, serving our appetizer of oysters on the half shell and the bottle of good white I'd ordered. I barely noticed, lost in thought and mulling over what had happened. I realized that not lying to her or guessing what she was thinking or assuming her reactions really was the way to go. I wished I'd realized this before, because simply asking her about the other night—when she hadn't been into our lovemaking—probably would have saved me a lot of mental anguish. For now I would believe that she had just been tired, like she'd told me.

She returned looking like she'd never shed a tear in her life, the confident, strong Scully I knew so well. The rest of the dinner went as I had hoped, with us gazing deeply into the other's eyes as we ate, discussing what type of place we wanted to get, and even the possibility of getting a dog once we moved in. "As long as it's not a little yappy ankle-biter," I teased her over dessert.

"Oh, I suppose you want some big manly dog like a Boxer or bulldog," she smiled back, taking a delicate bite of her crème brûlée.

"Why not?" I countered, unable to stop grinning. "Better than that walking dustmop who growled at me every time I went near the thing."

"Queequeg just didn't trust men, and whatever dog we do get will get along with everyone—I'll see to it," she said. "You sure you want a dog?"

"Seriously—yeah, I've missed having one." And I meant it, although it had never been a high priority in my life before this. But I remembered how much she'd loved that stupid mutt and that made it important to me.

"Then that's settled," she said contentedly, reaching for her glass and taking a sip of the dessert wine. Despite having gone through at least a bottle and a half of assorted wines, I didn't feel tipsy in the slightest—but looking at her was beginning to get me horny. Again. I saw her gazing at me thoughtfully, and then she added, "Seems to me like you have something more than getting a dog on your mind, Mulder. Care to share?"

I gave her my best come-hither look as I reached over to take her hand, which was now warm, her fingers tightening around mine. "I'd rather show you when we get home… unless you want all the people in this fancy restaurant hearing you moan."

Her lips parted, eyelids falling to half-mast, and she set her wineglass down rather abruptly. "I'm damn near willing to take the chance just from the look on your face," she breathed. "To hell with the rest of dessert—take me home, Mulder."

"Gladly," I said, reaching under the table and pressing the button for the server. "Let me pay the check and we're out of here."

* * *

I rested atop her, our warm, sweaty bodies sticking together as I moved my arms and lifted myself slightly on my elbows—but neither of us complained. Kissing her forehead, I murmured, "That was worth waiting a week for, wasn't it?"

"Mmn-hmn. But let's never go so long between again," she breathed, tilting her head back so that my lips skimmed down the gently arched bridge of her nose to her mouth. I kissed her leisurely, savoring the feel of her supple, toned body beneath mine. When the kiss ended she added, "Even so, that was quite inspired. I take back what I said earlier in the week about you getting old."

I ducked my face into her neck, hiding my grin. Everything I had planned and worked so hard for had come true despite our momentary derailing, and I thought that I'd never been happier or more content in my life than I was at this moment. It was exactly the opposite of how I'd felt the night I'd dreamed up this evening, and I hoped that I'd have many more nights like this and many fewer like that.

She stirred beneath me and, afraid that I was getting too heavy now that the moment had passed, I moved off her and to the side, drawing her against me with one arm around her shoulders, my other hand resting on her arm, which she threw across my chest. Her head was on my shoulder, warm and damp body pressed against my side. We lay in quiet contentment for a while; then, out of the blue, she said, "Can we keep my bed? Not only do I really like it, but also it's the first thing I bought for myself when I moved out of my parents' house. I know it's only a full size, but it seems to fit us just fine."

I glanced up at the slatted headboard and then rested the side of my face against the top of her head. "I don't see why not, as long as I can keep my couch."

"You'd better, considering that's where we made love for the first time," she said low, sleepily. "You try to get rid of that and I'll have to hurt you, G-man."

I didn't bother hiding my grin this time but instead of replying, leaned slightly to the side and turned my head to look down at her. Her eyes were closed, lips slack, and as I watched she slid into sleep, her breathing smoothing out and softening.

I lay awake for a time, staring into the flickering candlelit dimness, listening to Scully's deep, even breathing beside me and enjoying the feel of her bare skin against mine. What had just passed hadn't been my imagination; this time I knew she was with me all the way and I had no doubts that this was just the first wonderful year of many to come.

finis