Disclaimer: Cloans of cloans on a loan. The X-Files belong the Chris Carter (who better hurry it up with the second movie if he knows what's good for him) and this specific story was written by Stepenie Keiser on the Post-Mellenium Smut website. I found it and dug it up. If for any reason she asks me to take the story down I will.
Rating: For now a nice round T. But in a couple chapters it will be boosted to an M for adult situations, sexual content, and torture. And language.
Chapter Two
The overhang of the porch protected them from the rain and the two agents took a moment to shake the excess of water off their clothes. Mulder reached for the doorknob and Scully quickly put her hand over his to stop him. He turned to face her and was surprised at the intensity of emotion he found in her eyes.
"I think we're fine right here. I don't think we need to go in."
"What's going on, Scully? This storm looks like it's here to stay for awhile. I know this place isn't The Ritz but it's got to be dryer and warmer inside than it is out here." He took her hands in his and began to rub them, trying to restore some warmth. "You're freezing. We need to go inside." He kept her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes.
"Mulder..." she hesitated and dropped her eyes, so that she was staring at their feet. "This place gives me the creeps."
"Please explain to me the scientific nature of the creeps."
Scully quickly raised her gaze, ready to tell Mulder exactly what path he could take to Hell; when she saw the look of pure joy and satisfaction on his face, the look of warmth in his eyes and the small grin shaping his lips. She shook her head in resignation.
"You've been waiting awhile to use that one, haven't you?"
"Yes I have." He answered proudly. "Scully, it's just a big dark
house, nothing else." His voice dropped and gently he reminded her with his eyes that he would be right there by her side.
She knew he was trying to appease her fear, and although his intentions were honorable she felt as though she were three and he was trying to convince her there wasn't a monster under her bed. He squeezed her hands, waiting for a sign from her whether or not to open the door.
"Fine. We'll go in." She conceded. Mulder had spent the last five
years protecting her from the monsters.
She knew he wasn't about to let any of them get to her now.
- - -
The door slowly crawled open, the protesting scream from the rusted hinges announcing to whatever waited within that there were visitors. Mulder cautiously stepped inside using the flashlight to take a thorough inventory of the darkened interior of the house. His grip on Scully's hand tightened in a reassuring squeeze.
Scully stepped inside the house. It was so dark, without the flashlight she was certain that she wouldn't even have been able to see her hand in front of her face. Her eyes followed the beam of light. They were in a hallway. Battered steps leading to an upstairs were on the left. The hallway was long and traveled the length of the house, several closed doors branching off from it. She followed Mulder into the room on her right. As far as she could tell it had once been a large family room.
Dust and cobwebs covered every visible surface. Sheets draped the few pieces of furniture that stood in the middle of the room. An old fireplace took up most of the far wall. Lightning flooded in through the boarded up windows and caused a deep shiver to trace its way up her spine.
"What do you think? A real fixer-upper." Mulder let go of Scully's hand and felt along the wall inside the door they had just come through. She heard the click of a light switch being thrown, yet the room remained bathed in darkness.
Mulder swept the flashlight around the room again and noticed a few candles sitting on the mantle of the fireplace.
"Scully? Remember this afternoon when we stopped at the diner? You wrote a phone number on a book of matches, because you couldn't find a piece of paper? Do you still have the match book?"
Scully patted the outside of her jacket pockets and then nodded. She pulled the matches from the pocket. Mulder took them from her and lit three of the six candles that sat on the mantle. The flames lit the room but they also cast ominously moving shadows onto the empty walls.
"I feel like I walked into an episode of Scooby Doo," he grinned at her as he turned off the flashlight and pulled the sheet off of the couch in front of him. A cloud of dust sprayed the air and Scully fought the urge to sneeze.
"All we're missing is the portrait above the fireplace with the eyes that follow you everywhere you go."
Mulder plopped on the couch, sending up another barrage of dust.
Turning, he looked up at her in surprise.
"Yes, Mulder, I watched Scooby Doo."
"Did you ever wonder about that show, Scully? Four unemployed college aged kids traveling around the country in a recreational vehicle."
"What's your point Mulder?"
"Makes me wonder what exactly was in all those Scooby snacks."
Scully wandered around the room getting a closer look at where they would be spending the next hour or two until the storm passed. Having an analytical conversation about an animated program she watched as a child would have probably seemed out of the ordinary if she had been with anyone but Mulder. At least they had moved away from the topic of Betty Rubble's bust line. The way his mind worked always mystified her. He was a brilliant profiler, had amazing attention for detail, and was probably one of the most intelligent men she had ever known. Yet here they were discussing a talking dog who chased after fake ghosts. Fake ghosts?
"I'm surprised you liked Scooby Doo, Mulder. Nothing they ever chased after was real. Not the lake monster, the Indian spirit, or any of the ghosts. It was always people dressed in costumes or video projection equipment."
"What can I say..." he shrugged, "I had a thing for Daphne."
"Daphne? She wasn't exactly the most intellectually stimulating of the group."
"I must have had a soft spot for red heads way back then too," he stated smoothly, just a hint of promising suggestion in his tone. "Stop pacing, come sit down."
Scully scanned the eerie room again before sitting down next to Mulder. Mulder watched as she attempted to settle her nerves. Her hands twisted around the fabric of the coat he had thrown across the back of the couch cinching it with a death grip. She checked over her shoulder, first in one direction and then turning her head she checked the other side.
"Scully?"
Her attention remained preoccupied with surveying the darkness.
"Scully," he repeated more loudly, causing her to jump a little and slide closer to him.
"What!"
Normally he would have grinned at making her jump, but Scully wasn't acting normal.
"What's wrong?" He asked, softening his voice and wrapping his arm around her shoulders attempting to make her feel protected.
"I don't like not knowing where we are and not having access to a phone or a vehicle. Sixteen people have been reported missing. We should have been more prepared."
His gaze held hers, but she saw his eyes cloud over.
Shit, she thought reproachfully, mentally cringing. "Mulder..."
"You're right, Scully. We should have been more prepared. I was anxious to get out in the field and I did it again."
"You did what again?"
"I woke you up at the crack of dawn and dragged you across the country."
"We were following a case, Mulder." She had unleashed the Mulder-guilt and now it was up to her to appease it.
"You haven't gotten any sleep. It's no wonder you're about ready to jump out of your skin."
"I'm fi..."
"Of course you're fine," he interrupted before she could finish the standard retort she used whenever she was anything but fine. "I slept on the plane and I know for a fact that you didn't."
Mulder removed his jacket from her hands and bunched it up in his lap.
"This storm doesn't sound like it's going to let up anytime soon. Why don't you lay your head down and rest. I'll wake you when the storm is over."
Scully looked from his eyes down to where he expected her to 'lay her head' then back up to his eyes.
"No Mulder," she stated firmly, attempting to edge away from him as she spoke. His arm around her shoulders held strong and he began to use that arm to urge her to lay her head in his lap.
Scully realized she had two choices, she could fight him and probably end up clumsily sprawled in his lap making them both angry and uncomfortable or she could relent and allow him to satisfy his guilt and try to comfort her.
In one quick motion she twisted onto her side and swung her legs up onto the end of the couch and oh so carefully rested her head on his jacket. Her eyes faced the fireplace and she could still look around the room. It wouldn't hurt if she pretended to sleep for a while until the storm had passed.
Mulder's arm that had been around her shoulders hung awkwardly in the air. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, after all, he had pulled her out on a case - yet again - without giving her all the facts. He had - yet again - made her go an incredibly long period of time without sleep. It had seemed like a good idea that she should get some sleep while she could. He didn't know how far they would have to walk when the storm let up. It had seemed like a good idea... but now he had Dana Katherine Scully lying with her head in his lap and he didn't quite know what to do next. Slowly and gently he brought her arm down and rested his elbow in the crook of her waist, his arm resting along hers, his hand on her shoulder.
"Don't drool on my coat."
"Mulder," she moved to sit up but his arm held her down with a gentle pressure.
"Shhhh...Close your eyes."
She knew that was the last thing she planned on doing as her eyes continued scanning the room.
"Do you want me to sing to you?"
"No, Mulder."
"Tell you a story?"
"No, Mulder," she sighed, shifting her weight a bit to get more comfortable as she burrowed further into his lap. The harder she fought to keep her eyes open the heavier they became. "You aren't going to fall asleep, are you?"
"No Scully, I'm not going to fall asleep."
She shut her eyes, promising herself it would just be for a moment when she felt his fingers rhythmically stroking her temple and running through her hair. Her eyes snapped back open.
"When I was young, when Samantha was only a baby, my mother used to do this when I couldn't sleep. It always helped me."
Scully's breath felt trapped in her throat with her heart. Slowly she took a deep breath, mentally instructing herself as to what came next.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Simple really, once you get the hang of it. After practicing a few more times, Scully closed her eyes and let her partner's gentle caresses lull her to sleep.
He felt the instant she fell asleep. Her body relaxed and her breathing became deeper. His hand continued the soothing stroking of her temple, his fingers delighting in the feel of her skin and her hair.
The storm continued to ravage the house from outside, the wind and rain hurling themselves against the old walls. Mulder could hear the battle against the structure and he briefly looked up when a small piece of wood covering the window fell victim to the onslaught and clattered to the floor. He quickly looked back to Scully to see if the noise had wakened her. She remained soundly sleeping.
His hand momentarily ceased running through her hair and took the luxury of running over her skin, down her cheek and tracing her jaw-line. He didn't get very many moments like this with her. He didn't allow himself moments like this one. Moments where he could just sit back and take in her beauty without her being conscious of his observations. They were always so on guard, guarding against those that wished to see them fail or hurt them. More often than not they guarded against each other. A protective professional barrier existed between them that had been necessary in the beginning. Lately it seemed that that barrier was laying in a crumbled ruin at their feet and they were crossing it with more frequency and more intensity each time they stepped over the once sacred wall of defense.
There were no barriers now. Scully slept silently in his lap, trusting that he would protect her while she slept. Not that his Scully would ever admit that she needed protecting. She was so strong, so much stronger than he was. His emotions he wore on his sleeve, she kept her emotions hidden. He was the one that would usually end up being comforted in her arms. He would be hurt or in shock and she would encircle him with her arms until he was stronger. The storm outside was roaring on but an unfamiliar sense of peace circled Mulder as he watched her sleep. His fingers returned to her temple and brushed her hair from her eyes.
Did she do this? Did she sit while she was holding him and stroke his hair or let her fingers travel over his skin? Did she hold her hand on his forehead longer than usual when she was checking for fever in order to prolong the contact between them? The night he slept in her arms in the woods or when they were out in the snow -- did she sit and take solace in his breathing? He wanted to wake her to ask her if she needed his touch as much as he needed hers. He watched her, her features peaceful and relaxed, and he knew that he couldn't wake her, as much as he wanted to. He would have time to ask her when she woke. His hand continued to gently stroke her face as the storm raged on outside.
The man watched the tender scene of the two people on the couch from a television monitor in the sub-basement below. His eyes glowed in excitement and madness. His breathing quickened as he watched the man comfort the woman while she slept. His pulse raced as he picked up on the deep feelings that the man obviously held for the woman. His pupils constricted as he considered what this couple had in store for them.
"They're going to be perfect," he informed the empty room as a maniacal snicker escaped his throat.
- - -
The wind and the rain continued to fight for control outside the broken house -- but inside Dana Scully was dreaming. Fox Mulder was about five minutes -- make that three minutes -- away from completely losing his composure and taking her right there on the musty sofa. She had been asleep for a little over an hour. The sweet torture had started soon after she'd drifted off.
Scully was an active sleeper. She restlessly stretched her legs, moved her arms and generally made his job as a human pillow uncomfortably difficult. The games had begun when she had turned over, so that if she had awoken, she would have been eye to eye with his belt buckle...then things had gotten interesting.
She had squirmed and he had moaned.
She had snuggled and he had groaned.
She had wiggled and he had whimpered.
She had twisted and he had wrapped his arms around her in an effort to keep her from falling off the sofa. Scully, in her state of sleep, had taken his arms being around her as an open invitation to crawl more fully into his lap and get more comfortable. Her head was now tucked securely under his chin and her butt was nestled snugly in his lap.
His arms held her tightly. He tried in vain to prevent any further movement that might cause her to shift against the lower part of his anatomy that seemed to be growing more and more interested in her unintentional seduction.
She was quiet and Mulder breathed a sigh of momentary relief. He quickly realized that any movement he made also enhanced his own discomfort. Everything would be perfectly fine as long as neither of them moved.
A loud clap of thunder rumbled through the house and Scully tried to physically burrow into his chest.
"Shh...Shh..." he whispered into her hair, his voice instantly calming her.
"Mulder..." she moaned in a deep throaty sleep-voice.
Jesus, Scully, he thought cringing. One more moan like that and he was going to damn well finish what he had started in the hallway.
The hallway.
His eyes closed at the onslaught of emotions that suddenly overcame him. Weeks had passed and yet he remembered everything as if it were yesterday.
The hallway.
He remembered the warmth of her skin under his hands. His hand moved to cup her face while she slept, as it had that day. He remembered the anticipation and exhilaration when he had first realized what was about to happen. He was going to kiss Scully.
Her eyes had welcomed him. Her lips had waited for him. He had slowly lowered his head until the heat of her breath caressed his lips. If he kept his eyes closed tightly enough he could almost feel her lip brush his...almost.
Damn bee! Since that day he had added a can of bug repellent to his list of what he never traveled without.
He could have sworn that day -- in that hallway -- that he had seen want in her eyes. He had seen desire. He had seen love. The moment had been so fleeting, gone so quickly, that now he wasn't sure if he had actually seen those qualities or if his hopeful imagination had painted that look in her eyes.
They hadn't spoken of that day since they'd returned. She hadn't
mentioned it. He hadn't mentioned it. She had taken great pains not to
return to his apartment. Communication, unspoken. Sometimes their method of communicating -- by not communicating -- wasn't enough. Sometimes they needed words.
Scully snuggled closer and he tightened his hold on her. She sighed, content.
Maybe sometime was today -- was now. What if he had imagined it? What if the love he thought he saw in her eyes was only the reflection of the love for her in his eyes?
It had taken five years for him to follow her into that hallway and tell her what she meant to him. It had taken the realization of his worst fear for him to tell her. The fear that she would leave him. His head had told him to let her go -- she'd be safer without him. His heart had kicked him in the gut and made him go after her. He couldn't let her go without her knowing the truth he'd been carrying around within himself for so very long.
She had made him a whole person. Scully had filled his mind, his heart and his soul. How could you let half your soul walk out the door?
Damn bee! He would have told her that day. He would have told her that he loved her after his lips had left hers, but he didn't have the chance.
Everything from that moment until he got her back was a blur of agony. What do you do when half your heart is missing? You find it, or you die trying.
When they were back in DC, and she was safe, he had listened to his
head. He'd told her to leave him. He had existed for years without knowing what it was like to be complete, and he was willing to suffer the pain again if it meant that she would be safe. It would be harder now because he knew the fulfillment that she brought him, but he would push her away if that's what it took. She hadn't let him. She hadn't let him push her away. She had stood there, taken his hand and committed herself to him and his search -- their search -- more strongly than ever.
He opened his eyes and looked around the candlelit room. Where had their search led them this time? The middle of nowhere. One step forward, two steps back. A maddening dance that had become their lives. A dance, that alone, he would never have survived. Mulder dipped his head and pressed his lips to Scully's forehead. He had taken the first step when he'd followed her into the hallway, the next steps would be easier. He had wanted to wait until she was stronger. Then he decided to wait until they were back into a routine at work. Then he decided to wait until the timing was right. He wasn't going to wait any longer. He needed to know if he had imagined the love in her eyes when she looked at him that moment in the hallway. He needed to know if he had imagined that she had leaned forward to meet his lips. He needed to know if he would ever be able to hold her like this if she were awake.
He knew that he loved her but he needed to know if she felt the same towards him. When she woke up, they were going to talk -- really talk. Eddie Van Blundht talk. He didn't have a fire in the fireplace. He didn't have a bottle of wine. The only mood music in the background was thunder and rain, but he was there and she was there; in the past that was all they had needed.
He nuzzled his face into her hair and rested his cheek against her forehead. Mulder closed his eyes and for an instant let himself revel in the moment.
I know that you want to know who the dude was. But you'll just have to wait, my pretties. Or run on over to the PostMilleniumSmut (whoa...never noticed those initials...) page and look for it. Currently my email has hit a glitch so I cannot send mail right about now. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Press the little blue button. You know you want to...
