Chapter Twelve

Mulder/Scully Apartment, New York, New York

April 9th, 2000, 10:37 p.m.

Mulder shivered as he closed the door behind himself and hugged the brown bag close to his chest. Much to his delight, Scully had discovered where the fireplace matches had been hiding and a small fire was crackling in the fireplace. Although he would never accuse her of it verbally, he strongly suspected that she had been squirreling them away just in case he ever did ask for them.

It must be another one of her independent dispositions.

He thought of another time and place when Scully had tried and failed to start a fire. She poked the embers with the stoker and warmly smiled at him. Mulder quickly pushed those memories aside and set the bag down onto the bar. "I'll just put this in the refrigerator for now to keep it cold," he unsheathed a pair of bottles and shuffled behind the bar with the champagne.

"You're not planning on drinking that much tonight, are you, Mulder? Honestly, it wasn't that bad. I've seen my father in much more embarrassing-"

"Did he do it in front of anyone else?"

"Well..." Scully paused to consider this and leaned the stoker against the hearth. "Actually, I guess I didn't see the whole situation. I just usually saw the evidence left over. But I heard the battle loud and clear."

"I thought so. Besides, I'm still freezing from my walk to the liquor store. Red wine warms you up."

"Oh, Mulder, you didn't wear that tie to the..." He had his back turned to her as he sloughed off his trench coat onto the bar. She approached it, and he spun around as he heard her. "Good grief, you did." Scully sighed, kneeled on a stool, and signaled him to lean over the counter. She undid the remainder of his poor, ratty, tie and tossed it to the floor.

Jimmny Crickets, she was wearing another button down cardigan to expose her V-line. Mulder did try his best not to get another eyeful as she stripped him of his tie.

"That's one beautiful fire you have going, Scully." He pulled out two wine glasses and handed them to her as he carried the Shiraz over to coffee table in front of the sofa.

"Yeah. Who knew I could actually start one and keep it working?" she muttered as she watched him uncork the wine.

You've had my pilot lit for years.

"Uh, Scully, do you mind if I put some music on? I'm not trying to force you into an uncomfortable situation, I just thought it might break up a little tension."

"You can never tolerate silence for more than two minutes, can you, Mulder?" she chortled once through her nose and shook her head. "It's fine. But not too loud, okay?"

He hurriedly shoved the open bottle into her hands and ran excitedly to the stereo system. Oh dear. There are way too many buttons here. Don't be an idiot, don't be an idiot, don't be an idiot.

By the time he figured out the system and had it playing softly, Scully had already finished pouring the first two glasses of wine. "I like this song," she declared and waited until he sat down next to her to give him his glass.

"I think it's Motown. But I'm not sure-"

"Pride and Joy by Marvin Gaye. My mom used to sing it to us to make us fall asleep."

"That's nice. I think you got the same vocal talents from her."

She threw him a dirty look for a moment and motioned to his legs. "There's plenty of room for you to stretch out, Mulder. Go on."

"Are you sure? I just didn't want you to think I was being unprofessional."

"Mulder, do you know how many times we've crossed that supposed line?" He shrugged and flung his legs onto the couch. She gulped down some wine, pushed one of his legs aside, and sneaked in between the open area. Just as he was about to cry out in surprise, she seized his free hand and wrapped it around her waist.

"Scully, I-"

"Mulder, it was your idea to turn on the music, was it not?"

"Yes."

"Let's just listen and appreciate it for a little while, okay?" She leaned backwards until she met his chest.

Oh for years, he had longed to do this. Was he dreaming? If only I had another hand would I try and pinch myself.

He silently reflected upon Rhinehart's advice and became a little bit more positive on his outlook. Since Scully was taking it this far, he could live with this pace. Holding her was a rare occasion and even more seldom since it was usually on her terms. So he treasured these few moments.

After the song ended and another began, Scully tipped her glass back to finish her first serving and sat up straight to pour herself some more. "Mulder?"

"Hmm?"

"What's the matter? You're so quiet."

"You wanted to listen to the song, right?"

"It's over now. Here." She refilled his vessel even though he hadn't totally drained it yet, and she again surprised him by returning to her previous position. "What were you thinking about during the song?"

I hope you don't want an honest answer to that.

She sensed his silence as a pressure point and covered his hand around her waist with her own.

Please, say something Scully, or else those thoughts will continue in stronger force. All right. Fine. I'll tell you something but it was not was I was thinking about at all.

"Just...when Samantha and I were kids, my mother did sing to us. But once Samantha was gone," he shook his head and took a large swig of wine, "she stopped. I think not only did I lose my sister that day, but my mother, too. She was never the same."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mulder, I didn't mean to drudge up the past."

"No, it's okay. Diana used to sing to me, too--maybe that's another reason why I hung onto her so long."

"Did she have a good voice?" Mulder hesitated before giving a response and her grip tightened around their hands. "Did she have a good voice, Mulder?"

"Well, she wasn't Celine Dion, but yes, she did have a pleasant voice."

"Did she sing you to sleep?"

Scully, I really don't want to get into this now. But a part of him told him to keep going, that this was a step in the right direction; so he continued.

"Sometimes."

"Did you sleep at her place or yours? Or wait a minute. You didn't have a bedroom then."

"No, no, I did. It was after Diana that I just decided to give away the bed and use the room for storage."

"Well?"

"I guess it depended on where we were. If it was a night home from the office, it was mine. If it was a night out, it was hers."

"So she never officially 'lived' in your apartment?"

"For a couple of months, sure, she did. But we decided that it was too tight for living quarters. She needed her space, and I needed mine. So we just continued on."

"If I might ask, what caused you two to break up?" Mulder quaffed the last of his wine and set the glass behind him so Scully could not reach it.

"Mmm...well...her assignment to Europe caused a bit of a drift. And...we were growing apart slowly. I could feel it, and she could, too. So, I guess that's why some feelings were a bit mixed when she got back two years ago. We never officially did 'break up'. There were some mutual feelings of 'it's over because you're far away' and 'we need a little off time'. Sorry things were so confusing for you, Scully. I mean, I wanted it to be over, but..."

Now that he had another free hand, he slipped the other hand around her other side.

"No, I understand, Mulder. Remember I just went through a similar circumstance?"

"I do." And I'm glad you chose me over him, I think.

"Oh crap," Mulder mumbled.

"Something wrong, Agent Mulder?" Short looked up from the expense list and eyed him.

"Uh, nothing, I just kind of told you a few details...that I probably shouldn't have."

"Don't worry, Mulder. I'm just here to go over how you used the FBI credit card, not your inappropriate advances toward your partner or vice versa. That's up to the OPC."

"You're not going to tell them anything, are you?"

"I hope you're not threatening me, Agent Mulder. If you are, I most certainly will tell them."

"No, I was just asking."

"Then we'll pick up the next morning, regardless of what happened in the night. Continue, please."