In her room, Dana paced. She'd started folding her things, digging out any scraps that she could call her own. Very little sat upon her bed, reminding her of the futility of her efforts. She had nowhere to go but what choice did she have?
Of course this would happen, of course. I should have known. All the small hints she'd ignored, the warnings from Monica. Everything she'd dismissed felt suddenly significant: he was obsessively secretive about being with her, he never touched her unless she touched him first, and he always escaped her room before she was ready. There was another woman, and she wasn't sure if it was the pangs of jealousy, or that he'd left her so humiliated that hurt more.
Other thoughts intruded, her mind a confusing swirl. The look in his eyes, his attentiveness, how much time they spent together. All evidence that he cares for me, isn't it? But she couldn't deny what she saw. How could I have been so wrong?
A timid knock at her door, a familiar rhythm. Mulder.
It opened, barely. "Can I come in?"
She didn't answer, and though she faced away from him, she felt his presence when he entered and heard the muffled snick of the door when he closed it behind him.
"I don't know how much you saw—"
"Enough."
The idea of leaving this place made her hands shake, set her heart racing, a cold trickle of sweat traced a path down her spine. She disguised her trembling hands by clenching them into fists, welcoming the pain of her nails digging into her flesh.
"I'm sorry you had to see that."
She whipped around, cold anger replacing her grief. "That I had to find out that way? About your other women?"
"Dana… I..." he said, his voice trailing away, looking similarly anguished.
She stared at him, waiting for him to explain why he'd let another woman touch him so intimately, though he remained silent, eyes filled with shame. It killed the last shred of hope that lay within her. She felt sick, and when a surge of panic threatened to overtake her, she slipped on her mask. That it was so easy to do so convinced her that everything she'd been pretending at had all been an act. The hurt, the anger, it didn't matter, it wasn't real. Neither were her feelings for him, she supposed. She shivered, stepped further away from him.
"We've been fooling ourselves, myself most of all," she said. "I am not what you are looking for, sir. And we have not made any promises to each other. You are free to do as you wish."
She blinked, slowly, wishing she could take back her words. Wishing she could take back the last few weeks. He closed the distance between them, so close she could smell him: his usual scent blended with the sickly sweet perfume of the other woman. She moved out of his reach, her gut twisting painfully.
"You smell like her," she said, voice hoarse. She would not cry.
He stepped away, removing his jacket and his shirt, discarding them on the floor near her vanity. Pouring water from her pitcher into the basin, he washed himself, scrubbing away the last remnants of the other woman upon his face and neck. When he turned back to her, she saw newfound determination in his expression, as if he'd washed away everything but what he must say. She nodded. She would listen.
"I am the only fool here, Dana," he said softly. "There is no other woman besides you who matters to me. If I've not made my intentions clear, I am sorry."
"Your intentions? To sit passively while I or another woman takes advantage of you? Would you have acted the same with her as you do with me if not for your audience?"
He rubbed his hands over his face, looked at her imploringly. "I have made mistakes in the past — Diana was one of them. Was. But none as much as I have by not telling you what you mean to me."
He got down on his knees in front of her.
"Dana. Please believe me. I am sorry for not pushing her away, but I swear to you that whatever I had with her is all in the past. I would not have any other except you, until my breath gives out."
He reminded her of the words she said to him, that night in her room so long ago. When she'd decided he could be trusted, that she wanted him close. His eyes spoke the truth, but could she depend on her own judgment? Her detachment from the roiling anger and despair gave her no more insight into what she should do.
"Please, Dana, do not leave," he begged, his glance stealing over to the things she'd gathered on her bed. His entire body strained towards her, but he did not bridge the distance between them. "My past is not perfect. I am not near worthy enough for you, but you inspire me to do better. I want all of you, but I would settle for whatever you would offer."
As he kneeled, desperate and full of intensity and passion, her decision came quickly, surprisingly: she believed him. So used to thinking the worst, it was easy to fall victim to her own insecurities. More difficult to take a leap of faith, trust in someone. As her father knew, she had good instincts, she would rely on them now. But instead of feeling relief at his devotion to her, she felt defeated, lost.
"You still do not know me, not truly. How you could know that I am what you want when I have hidden much from you."
"Then tell me, Dana."
Her shoulders slumped, and she withdrew from him, sitting on the edge of her bed. Silence hung between them. Her fingers twitched restlessly, soothing the ruffled lace of her dress.
"I have… done things, Mulder. Things that I think would horrify you. As surely as the sun will rise tomorrow, I am damned. I'd thought, perhaps, I'd been on my way to redemption, but I've been lying to myself."
She looked at Mulder once more, below her on the tattered rug between her and the door, his palms resting in his lap, facing upwards in supplication. Eyes soft and full of emotions that were out of her reach.
Continuing, the words fell from her mouth more easily than she thought they'd come. Dead and emotionless, they did not fill the chasm between them.
"The worst, Mulder, has been my lie to you. I have been only acting as someone worth loving," she said. "When I left New York, I was alone… naïve to think that I would be safe. That man who attacked Nellie was not nearly the first who fell by my hands. "
She looked at him to observe his reaction; he did not seem shocked by her words.
"I know he deserved it, they all had. With each man, shot through the belly, the throat, the chest, I've been tearing through my own soul, creating wounds just as great as those who bled on the ground." She twisted her hands against each other. "I remember how I felt after the first. No sadness, but relief. I was glad. Glad!"
Her eyes closed at the memory of the large man above her, one hand holding hers above her head. The shock on his face at the sound of her revolver, as she'd shot him in the gut after slipping one of her hands free. The smell of piss and shit and blood as he'd died, ruining the dress as surely as her gun had ripped a hole through it and him.
"I learned my lesson, after that one. Didn't let them get close enough to touch me after that. Perhaps they didn't mean me harm, but I felt no sorrow over their deaths," she whispered. "What sort of person does that make me, Mr. Mulder."
"It makes you a survivor, Dana," he said, inching slightly closer to her. The sadness in his face contrasted with her own hollowness. He was a sensitive man, his anger and outrage so easily aroused at injustice inflicted upon anyone who did not deserve it. How could she dare to think they would fit well together. Cold and hot, ice and flame.
He reached out and touched her wrist, still tentative.
"I am empty. You are right to want nothing to do with me, to not want to touch me," she said, holding her fists ever tighter as he covered them with his own.
"You are not empty," he said. "And I have only been holding back because I..."
He stopped, looked downwards. His fingers entwined with hers and squeezed.
"I do not want to scare you."
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "Fear is something I do not feel easily either."
"You are strong. You do not let people see you, even when we are close I can sometimes feel your distance. But you are there Dana, I have seen your soul shining through your eyes. And when that happens I feel like the most fortunate man on this earth."
She said nothing, but doubted his words.
"I made a choice, a few weeks back. When you shot that man. I thought you'd been hurt, and I knew then that I couldn't spend my life running away from things I felt I didn't deserve. The only choice I had was to be by your side and to love you. That is my truth." He pressed his thumb into the back of her hand, and she felt herself unwind, loosen at his touch. "When I climbed through your window that night, it was fated. We should not ignore it."
"You are a romantic, Mulder. The idea of something does not mean that it will work in reality. A relationship takes work. I will take work," she said, though her heart pounded at his words. Love?
"If it is fate, those other things will not matter. We just have to try. I'm asking you to give this a chance, Dana, to believe in us. To believe in yourself. And to trust me when I say that you are not lost."
She searched his face, feeling a pinprick of hope inside her chest as his words sunk in. That he felt similar to her, broken, but there was no doubt in her mind he was worth the effort. Perhaps I am worthy, too?
"Okay," she said, taking another leap. He made her feel as if anything were possible.
His eyes lit up briefly, but then he looked away. "After learning what you've been through, how can I be free with my affections and not feel like I am bringing back unpleasant memories?"
She exhaled, grasped his hands within her own and waited until he looked at her once more. "I have only felt safe when we are together. I want… I want you to touch me. To want me."
He nodded, and sat beside her, sliding his hand along her arm and cradling her neck. She leaned into him, gooseflesh rising along her skin, sparks of electricity illuminating the darkness within her.
"I do want you, but... I have been starved for so long, Dana. I didn't even realize it, until you showed me what I was missing. I cannot lose you and I'm terrified that I will."
He sighed and looked past her, the ache of distant memories shadowing his face. Running her hand along his arm, keeping him close, she listened.
"There is something else holding me back. I am afraid that if we make love, we could not go back to our friendship, if you changed your mind. If you knew what I was really like, and decided that I was no longer the man you wanted."
She started to speak, but he pressed his thumb against her lips, silenced her with pleading eyes.
"You and me, whatever the arrangement… it is the next chapter of my life. And your name is written in every chapter, on every page until the last."
"Oh, Mulder," she said, leaning towards him.
He pressed his forehead against hers, and they breathed each other in. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and bit her lip, holding back tears. There was no doubt in her mind now, about him, about them. She did not move, holding his precious words, making sure she would remember. In contrast, his hands moved restlessly along her arms, her back, through her hair - searching for something, she thought.
"I have to tell you, Dana, of my past. Why I did not take you back here and ravish you that day, when we kissed in the stables, as much as I wanted to. Why I have held back since."
Oh, she thought. Warmth pooled in her chest at the image he conjured in her mind and she felt her cheeks redden.
He cleared his throat. "I have never had someone… care for me before. You say you are damned, that you are empty. But you make me feel loved, and that I am not destined for loneliness," he said, not pulling away, but settling his hands at her waist.
Things started to make sense, the fuzzy shapes of his past coming into focus. She could not understand how no one else could have loved this man, the one she so easily accepted as a friend, and now so much more.
"Your parents?"
He huffed, attempting to withdraw from her; she grasped his arms, and kept him near. "They gave me everything, except love and attention. And after Samantha…"
He didn't continue, but his eyes told her the rest. She nodded, wrapping her arms around him, settling her head against his chest. Her heart ached. The power that families had, to hurt those they were supposed to cherish. Determination settled in her mind, about what she needed to do, giving her strength to overcome her own questions about herself.
"I left for Oxford about a year after Samatha was taken, when I thought there was nothing I could do, when I could no longer bear the animosity from my father, the accusations from my mother. They assured me they would do everything to continue the search," he continued. "I wondered constantly, and still do, if I should have stayed, should have started my search back then. Would it have made a difference?"
In her embrace, he was tense, memories flooding back. She nuzzled into him, running her hands over his shoulder blades, through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and he relaxed against her.
"In England, I was unwelcome, an outsider. As for relationships… it was either entirely unsatisfying dalliances or I was misled. As it turns out a strange American with stranger ideas makes for an interesting conquest," he chuckled. She squeezed him tighter.
He pressed his cheek into the top of her head. Though he towered over her, she felt as though she could protect him, surrounding him with her touch and her warmth. How could she have doubted her own soul, seeing the unconscionable things that other people had done to him?
"Then there was Diana. Things are — were... were, thank God… complicated. I thought I'd finally found someone, but she turned out just like all the others. When I needed her, returning from one of her leads with nothing and in the depths of despair, she dismissed me, was disgusted by me. I couldn't blame her, I was a mess. But, when I got better, she pretended like it never happened, other it had been my fault that I was left alone. It was easy to believe her, so I went back each and every time that she beckoned."
His heart pounded. Dana leaned back to look at him. "And you are afraid that I will be the same?"
He nodded. "I know you are not the same, but if it is my fault that I have never made a true connection, it is inevitable no matter the person. I know I am a contradiction — trying to convince you to stay while I fear that I am meant to be alone."
She kissed his palm. "You are a living contradiction, Mulder. You think I would leave you, that I would be disgusted by you. Yet you have listened to me, heard of the terrible things I have done, and still want me near you."
"You have not seen me at my worst. I am weak, Dana."
"You are not weak," she said. "And… if you will have all of me, I would have all of you. Seeing you in pain, makes me want to take it upon myself, as you do for my own. It makes me love you more, not less," she said.
"Love?" The desperate hope in his face broke her heart.
"Yes."
He smiled brightly at her, in wonder. He traced a finger along her brow and over the bridge of her nose.
"You are so beautiful," he said, his hand moving lower, just above her heart. "All of you."
Brushing her hair off of her forehead, he wound a trembling hand through her hair and loosened the clasp, letting it fall in waves down her back. He pressed his lips to her temple, between her eyebrows, the tip of her nose.
"We can make this work... together. Your mess and mine," he said.
She nodded, leaned upwards and met him as he pressed his lips against hers. At first he was gentle, but it quickly transformed into the passion she now knew that he felt for her.
Holding her close, he took her breath away with tongue and lips and touch. One of his hands travelled downwards, over her waist, lifting her skirts and caressing her stockinged calf as she gasped against his mouth. With each kiss and caress, he battered away at the stone walls she'd surrounded herself with, something she'd carried with her for so long she thought it more natural than everything that they protected.
His mouth was hot and urgent, causing a pleasing ache to settle between her thighs, waves of warmth sliding along her limbs, curling her toes. Raising her leg to settle on his lap, she moved her hand downwards, hesitated at his waist. She knew she could make him stay, that he would let her seduce him if only to keep her from doubting herself, but what did he need?
So it was she who tore her lips away from his. Both panting, leaning heavily against each other, she caressed his chest, her hand travelling over the thin cotton of his undershirt, feeling his ribs, the strong muscles of his abdomen.
"You need to go, or you will have to stay," she said. She leaned backwards to look at him, searching his eyes. "What do you want?"
"I will stay if you wish it, but..." he trailed off.
"But?"
"Just... let me give you time to think, to change your mind."
She shook her head and smiled. "Pig-headed."
He chuckled, kissed her cheek. "Dana, please understand… My whole life has been riddled with failure and bad decisions. If there is one thing I need to do right, it is this."
"Okay," she said simply.
"It seems I have reduced you to one word answers, sweetheart. I should summon this power when we are arguing," he teased.
"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself, if I started agreeing with you all the time." She smiled, settling back into the comfort of their usual banter.
"I would be devastated," he agreed, then grew silent, eyes darkening as he gazed at her. Kissing her firmly once more, he rose from the bed. "I am a fool, aren't I?"
Dana giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hand. "You are the one who believes in ghasts."
He shook his head and headed for the door, donning his clothes on the way.
"Mulder."
Turning to look at her, she thought she saw a spark of something in his expression telling her she should convince him to stay after all.
"I do not change my mind easily."
"Oh, believe me, I know," he chuckled, closing the door quietly as he left.
Dana stared at the door, then closed her eyes and laid back on the bed. Previously when he'd left she'd been frustrated, confused and uncertain, but all she felt now was pleasant anticipation. Knowing how he felt, telling him all that she had, had unburdened her. But at the same time, she hurt for him, and wished that he would let her love him, that her simple touch could ease his pain. She smiled, licked her lips where he'd kissed her, tasting him.
Soon.