HEAVY PETTING

BY

AllyinthekeyofX

Summery – Some things are so familiar you remember how it felt to forget them.

Part II

I have sat with Scully on this battered sofa a thousand times before; I have argued with her, ignored her, disregarded her; I have cuddled her close, wiped away her tears, watched the firelight bounce off her copper coloured hair; pulled her towards me and peppered her face with kisses as her pupils dilated with the combined intensity of our need for each other and I have felt her body rest bonelessly against mine as we lay sated and spent; lost in thoughts of a past that haunted us both and prevented us I think from ever really knowing how to just be happy.

A relationship born of trust, of mutual respect and a deep abiding love for each other that rose out of the ashes of our lives. But always there were feelings of despair, of regret and yearning for things that could never be and while for the most part we were able to push those thoughts away, we rarely addressed them within ourselves and ultimately we allowed them to destroy what we had.

But now, it feels almost as though we are starting anew; that even though we are the same, somehow we are different.

She had allowed me to take her hand and lead her wordlessly in to the house we once shared and even though every fibre of my being had screamed at me to just take her in my arms and press my lips to her skin, I had forced myself to back off slightly – knowing somehow that even one misstep on my part would send her fleeing from me and we could lose something that this time might never be regained. So I searched her face and took my cues from her, reading her effortlessly in a way I had almost forgotten I was able to do because it had been so long since she had allowed me to really look in to her, to feel her, to know her again.

Of course she has been with me in the house on many occasions since she chose to leave but there has always been an invisible barrier between us that became a safe and protective force to help ensure we stayed on safe territory; that we didn't ask each other for anything we weren't prepared to give.

I had already eaten earlier in the evening – a simple meal of lemon chicken on a bed of wild rice and I had been more than surprised when she asked if I had any leftovers because it has been a very long time since she had eaten anything I had cooked. Maybe it was just too painful for her I don't know because in the early days spent here, before everything just got too overwhelming I cooked for her every night so that she would have a hot meal waiting for her after long hours spent on her feet at the hospital. I can't pinpoint exactly when I stopped bothering; when she ate at the hospital instead of relying on me to remember to leave the small room which had become my own version of a fortress; to actually take the time to take care of her in a way I had always promised myself I would.

It was just one of many promises I had made back then that over time, became as unimportant to me as I did to myself.

But tonight, she ate my food while I tried to concentrate my attention elsewhere; to keep the smile off my face at the sight of her just sat there before me as she delicately worked her way through the meal, pausing occasionally to dab at her mouth with the paper napkin clutched in her hand. We didn't speak. There didn't seem a need at that moment and so I just sat opposite her, watching her as she ate, allowing my eyes to meet hers occasionally from across the space that separated us, encouraged by the way she didn't look away even though I think somewhere deep inside her she wanted to.

By the time she had finished, the shadows had finally lengthened as dusk became night and even though it was already late Spring, the nights were still chilly enough for me to light up the wood burner to chase away the draughts that continued to rattle around my tiny wooden house and which only really disappeared in the height of summer; and after handing her a steaming mug of the green tea I keep here just for her, I joined her on the sofa in front of the fire and watched the golden light of the flames within bounce off her hair and turn her pale skin in to shimmering gold and truly I don't think I have ever felt so at peace as I did at that moment.

Tooms has settled herself in her usual position right in front of the fire and while she initially made it very clear to the small scraggy interloper who had suddenly appeared in her life that this was her spot, she had over time, allowed him to curl up just a few inches away from her, clearly not perceiving him as a threat either to her or the warmth that radiated from the slightly rusted belly of the stove even when he began to emit soft noises of doggy contentment as he slept.

"Have you thought of a name for him yet...well aside from Puppy of course."

Beside me Scully shakes her head slightly before setting her drink on the floor.

"Not really. I was hoping inspiration might hit but so far nothing has seemed quite right."

And suddenly a half forgotten conversation from yesterday replays in my head, as I had stood in the graveyard listening to the man before me weave his fantastical tale that had seemed so ridiculous at the time.

*I bought a puppy*

Could it be the same dog? Probably not; but right now I wanted it to be. I wanted it to be the same dog that had, for a few hours brought comfort to his new owner in the midst of so much uncertainty.

"I think maybe he was Guy's dog Scully.."

"Guy? You mean your horney-toed lizard man Mulder?"

There is just a hint of laughter in her voice, that same slightly teasing tone she had adopted when I was enthusiastically trying to persuade her that what we had encountered was, if not quite within the realm of the natural sciences, was explainable in a real-world way. Because I hadn't realised at that moment that even though I had tried to persuade myself it wasn't so, there was a part of me that still wanted to believe so badly even I was terrified of what it could mean.

Because I had spent years believing and look where it had gotten me.

"Yeah, my horney-toed lizard man decided having a dog would make him feel more accepting of becoming human but it just made him even more miserable because he only had him for a night before he lost him when the maid came to clean while he was out at work and..."

I'm aware that Scully is trying to keep up with this strange rambling explanation and I tail off, taking a swallow of coffee before I wave my hand at the sleeping terrier.

"Anyway, he named him Daggoo."

"Daggoo?" Scully smiled then. "You know who Daggoo was Mulder?"

And even though I do, I let her tell me. Just to watch how the tiny lines become visible at the corners of her beautiful eyes as her whole face seems to suddenly light up.

"He was a harpoonist in Moby Dick. Just like Queequeg...Mulder are you making this up?"

"Scouts honour Scully I promise. Weird coincidence huh?..."

Scully has stopped smiling though, her expression far away, eyes clouded with memories that are radiating from her in such a palpable way I could almost reach out and touch them. A time when we still felt that maybe, just maybe we could win; that the truth and justice we both so desperately needed would one day be ours. And I often think back to that time we spent together, having already lost so much we had had no conceivable idea of just how much we still had left to lose. It's a sobering thought and right now, I know she feels it in exactly the same way I do – the sacrifices we made; the risks we took and the people we lost along the way. So much heartache for two people to bear in a lifetime and I guess it's no real surprise that we became as screwed up as we did; that in some ways we still are.

But things are different now; or at least I am different – because I realise now that everything we went through, everything we fought for, every drop of blood that spilled was pre destined – that the path we found ourselves on so long ago could never have the ending we sought simply because for whatever reason, it just wasn't meant to be and allowing the guilt and the regret to become larger than the quest itself was probably the easiest way to justify everything that had come afterwards.

And almost against my will I find myself shifting slightly, reaching out to her and tentatively covering one of her small hands with my own and entwining my fingers with hers. For just a second she goes rigid and I am about to apologise, to pull away from her, to stop invading her space with my own; but before I can do any of those things she turns toward me, her blue eyes luminous with unshed tears and brings my hand, palm – up to rest against the soft skin of her cheek as a single tear escapes and tracks slowly down her face. A single tear that shines crystalline and golden in the soft light of the fire and one which I can't seem to take my eyes off, a wave of guilt crashing over me as I realise that I have made her cry again. That no matter how hard I try to make amends I seem to just make her miserable at every turn.

I am more than a little surprised therefore when she slides toward me, her hand still pressed tightly against mine.

"I've missed you Mulder...I've missed this so much." Her whispered words only barely audible but I have no trouble hearing her in the silence that surrounds us.

And then she leans in close and brushes her lips against mine with such gentleness, such reverence and such longing that I can literally feel myself turning to liquid beneath her touch because God knows I've missed her too. More than I think even I realised until now.

Her small hands slide around to the back of my neck and I close my eyes at the feeling of her running her fingers through my hair, scratching her nails softly against my scalp, those small, strong capable doctor's hands that have the ability to chase away my nightmares, to soothe my soul and which have sent me soaring in the past to heights I had never imagined I could reach. Those hands that know every inch of my body just as mine know hers because the time we have spent apart in no way equals the time we spent together and the feeling is both achingly familiar and heartbreakingly painful because I know, as I have always known, that we should never have allowed ourselves to be apart at all.

I mirror her exactly, clutching at her like a drowning man seeking salvation, feeling the warmth of her hair in my hands as our lips part, tongues meeting, reacquainting, our breath ragged with familiar desire and for just a few moments, there is no gentleness. Just a raw animalistic need to find each other again, to reach out; to reconnect and I suddenly wish I could literally pull her inside me; to capture her there and never let her go.

It's a moment in my life that I will never forget because if I live to be a hundred, the feeling as Scully gives herself over to me for a second time, gives me her trust, leaves me trembling violently with a combination of blinding exaltation and a crushing sense of regret that I lost her in the first place. And it's enough for her to still her movement, to clasp her hand to the back of my neck and draw my face down towards hers, until our foreheads are resting together.

"You're shaking."

I nod. Incapable of speech, because I am afraid that if I try I will just break down in front of her but I have forgotten that this is Scully and that words have never been necessary to communicate with each other and gently, so gently she begins to track her lips along my hairline, kissing her way along my jaw, first one side then the other, stroking my neck, calming me with her touch in the way only she can.

"It's okay." She murmurs as she kisses each corner of my slightly parted lips, running her tongue over their surface lightly, affirming that this is right; that she wants this just as much as I do; that what happened between us when we lost sight of ourselves is in the past; that it's time to finally let it go, taking control as she slides her tongue forwards to join with mine once again and this time our kiss is languid and slow and deliciously wonderful as I explore every inch of that glorious mouth and the years just fall away, transporting me back to a time when we finally allowed ourselves to act upon a need that had burned inside us for years and one which I have always known could never be extinguished; that despite all the heartache we had caused each other we have somehow always belonged together.

Without breaking our kiss I slide my hands down her shoulders before dropping them away to smooth a path along the planes of her back, the feel of her shoulder blades, the gentle curve of her delicate spine, the way her ribs taper off to her tiny waist, a waist that I have no trouble spanning with my fingers as I pull her on to my lap, gasping as she responds by settling herself squarely at the point where my growing erection is pushing against the constraints of my jeans, watching as she quirks an eyebrow at me in patented Dana Scully fashion.

"Already Mulder? I'm impressed."

It lightens the moment

"Yeah well, I'm pretty spry for an old guy Scully."

She nods slowly, dropping her hand to settle against the rough denim that betrays me and my need for her and squeezes softly, the sudden contact enough to elicit a strangled moan from me and by the look on her face, it's patently obvious that she is more than pleased at the effect she is having on me. But then, Scully has always been a bit of a minx in that regard and beneath the tailored suits and rigid formality beats the heart of a tigress. A tigress that right now is practically purring against me.

"Come on old man. I think maybe it's time you took me upstairs."

Continued part 3