Warning: Below the break it becomes rather M-rated. If you'd like to skip you can just go forward to Part 4.
Scully led the way up the stairs to the second floor, then bypassed the secondary crime scene and headed up a smaller set of stairs to the top level. There, she and Mulder separated, and roved their flashlights over the bare wood-frame walls of the attic. She was disappointed to see that there seemed to be no storage areas or nooks on this floor, though. They could clearly follow along the perimeter of the house's frame from within, and it was evident that this level, at least, would have yielded no place for anyone to hide.
"I love old places like this," Mulder suddenly commented, as he passed his flashlight over the inside of a small, high panel of stained glass. Scully turned to him, surprised at this profession, but said nothing.
"You know, with unfinished attics. . ." He looked over at her. "One of our houses was like that as a kid. Samantha and I would spend hours up in that attic, even when it was sweltering in the summer." He paused for a moment as he shined his light over the far corner, then continued: "It didn't matter to us. Our dad didn't build us a tree house like the other neighborhood dads did, so that was our kingdom." He made a nostalgic noise.
Scully tried to imagine a carefree pre-trauma Mulder—no, Fox—and smiled slightly despite the bittersweet picture it made.
"Dad hated us messing up there though," Mulder went on, now sounding ponderous. "And now I wonder what sort of documents and evidence I had at my fingertips then, without realizing. . ."
Lately, Mulder had been much more open with her about things like this. Scully often wondered if it was because of the closure he had found with Samantha, or because they had finally crossed the last barrier in their relationship. She doubted that it was really exclusively one or the other, though—the former seemed to have been a catalyst of sorts for the latter.
"We didn't have one," Scully answered. "Just a crawl space for storage. We did have a basement, but it was sort of creepy. . ."
"But I bet you had a tree house, didn't you?"
She gave him a quick smile and he nodded triumphantly. "I knew it."
After a moment of silence where they rather pointlessly cast their flashlights around the attic, Scully sighed. "I don't see anything here," she admitted, and he nodded.
They trooped down to the second floor, and without a word, decided mutually to split ways. Scully went to the front, while Mulder headed to the back towards the bedrooms.
She pushed open the door to the secondary crime scene, but unlike the kitchen downstairs, it was not at all clear that anything had taken place here aside from some furniture in disarray. The crime scene cleanup crew had managed to wipe up all the blood here, and she saw no sign of that ground mica trace—probably to Mulder's chagrin, she thought.
She turned her flashlight towards the interior of the door, and saw that Mulder was right. There were no scuff marks or indentations from the legs of the bureau. She wasn't quite resigned to dismissing that theory that the kids had locked the door behind the killer and had then hidden, and that would have meant that the potential hiding space was outside the playroom, but she didn't want to leave any stones unturned.
Methodically, she moved through the room, lifting up area rugs, tapping on all the interior walls, and testing the panels in the closet. While in there, she looked up, hoping to see some sort of hatch at the top, but there was nothing but solid ceiling. She moved onto the next room, the daughter's bedroom, but after forty more minutes, she concluded that there was nothing to be found there either, and she headed into the hallway. Mulder had just appeared there as well, with tousled hair that once again immediately made her mind shift away from the investigation. But purposefully, she redirected her thoughts back to the task at hand.
"Anything?" she asked, but he shook his head, and they took the main stairs down to the ground floor. Mulder headed into the front room and Scully went back to the bloody kitchen.
There, Scully ignored the stains she had so attentively studied for the past few hours, and focused on the interior walls of the kitchen. The grouping of closets on the southwest side caught her eye, and she strode over. The door to the kitchen closet hung ajar, and she knew without a doubt that the SFPD had cleared it, but what if there was more to it than met the eye? She turned and sidled into the narrow space with one arm above her head, and carefully traced her flashlight along all the seams of the wall. Then she reached up onto her tiptoes and tapped the side of it along the walls as well, listening for a hollow spot. Unfortunately the ceiling was obviously smooth painted plaster, and the walls moved seamlessly from it, and her knocks on them returned solid thuds. Not finished, she bent sideways awkwardly and looked at the joint of the walls and floor, but again there was nothing out of the ordinary. She straightened up again and edged back out, listening for Mulder in the other room, but all she heard was him rustling around. So apparently he'd found nothing in the dining room or living room either so far. . .
She turned to the laundry and utility room that was to be her last hope before she'd have to confess that she didn't have a clue as to how children could vanish from a locked room, or adults could be murdered within a locked house. Even if this were another case of Starlight, how did the killer escape as well?
She surveyed the cramped room that was lined from shoulder-height to ceiling in shelving, and had a washer and dryer taking over most of the remaining wall space. She narrowed her eyes in frustration, knowing that even if there were a crawl space behind the appliances, the kids could have never pulled them away from the wall themselves, let alone pulled them back behind them. In one last bid, she cast her flashlight around the whole room, hoping to find some sign—any sign—of how the kids and killer might have gotten away. Then suddenly, her breath caught in her throat as something on the ceiling caught her eye.
Almost hidden by the protruding storage shelves was a small 2x2' trap door in the ceiling above the washing machine. The area was framed with wood, while the rest of the ceiling was flat plaster. She would never have noticed it had she not been looking specifically for it, and been using a flashlight, but there it was. She paused to reach into her back pocket and pulled on some latex gloves, then spotted a stepladder in the corner and opened it up next to the large appliances. She suspected the kids and/or killer could have stood on the washing machine to reach the hatch, and she didn't want to disturb any evidence. Carefully she leaned forward and got ready to press up along then edge of the door, when—
"Scully!" Mulder said excitedly in the doorway. She looked down on him and saw that he was holding up a pair of magazines, but also looking quizzically at her. Confused, she stared at him for a second, but when he took note of what she was doing, he shook his head to dismiss what he was going to say and set the magazines down.
"Well, look what you found," he observed, and she nodded, then braced against her fingertips and pushed upwards with her heart pounding. At first the wood seemed reluctant to give, but then, slowly, the panel lifted a few inches. With one last glance down at Mulder, who nodded her on, she gave a strong thrust and the door burst open.
She had half-expected to see the frightened, strained faces of the children waiting in the space beyond, but instead she was met with a torrential cloud of dust that exploded down on her and filled the small room.
Overcome by choking, Scully made a hasty retreat down from the stepladder, covering her face, and followed Mulder out into the kitchen, where they both tried to stop coughing.
When they had finally caught their breath, Mulder looked at her expectantly. "So," he said after a moment, "now that you've found the crawl space, do you still think it plays any role in the case?"
"I think we need to contact SFPD and have the Forensic Service Department process the area," she answered, while still trying to get the dust off of her, but without much luck.
Mulder looked slightly incredulous. "Come on, Scully, look at this stuff!" he said, indicating between them and at the air around them, which was still full of particles. "That crawl space hasn't been accessed in twenty years—if that. If it had been, this dust would have been all over the crime scene, and it wasn't."
She didn't have an answer for that, but didn't want to give up the discovery. It was the only thing that could make sense. "It doesn't hurt to just have the police process it," she insisted. "See if there are any fingerprints. . .blood. . .it might give us some indication that these kids are still alive. I'd like a sign of that."
"And so would I," Mulder concurred, "but I think that its presence is pure coincidence, and has nothing to do with this case."
Scully pursed her lips, knowing that even though he had ulterior motives in saying that because he wanted this to be an X-File, the physical evidence (all the dust) looked like it corresponded with his assessment.
Mulder reached forward and caught her hand, and she looked into his eyes. "But it's not as if we have no leads, Scully. . ." he said significantly, and she could hear the enthusiasm returning to his voice.
"What did you find?" she asked, and he let go of her to jog back into the laundry room, where he grabbed the magazines he had set down.
"These," he said, holding them up, and Scully immediately recognized them as well-known science journals. In fact, she was a subscriber to both.
"Science and Physical Letters Review. What about them?"
Seeing her puzzled expression, he chuckled slightly, and strode up to her. "Check it out," he told her, showing her the cover of Science. "We haven't been formally introduced and the pictures we've seen of him haven't been the most flattering, but can you recognize this guy?"
Now she saw it. She couldn't tell at first since his smiling blue eyes were open and his face wasn't pale and covered in dried blood. "Geoff Love," she said.
"Montes mentioned that he's back at the FBI looking over his business records," Mulder said, nodding. "And I think that we should take a look at those as well."
"Why, what does he do?"
"According to Physical Letters Review, he's a cutting-edge physicist who's on the eve of some major breakthrough."
"Let me take a closer look at that," Scully offered.
"Go for it, Ms. 'Einstein's Twin Paradox,'" he said, handing her the journal.
She tried to stay up-to-date on all the peer-reviewed science journals, but with her work and the recent development of a personal life, she rarely found time anymore. It would be fascinating to read through some of the latest advancements in what was once her field. She opened it up and glanced at the abstract, but could quickly tell that she'd need to sit down and concentrate on it.
"And according to Science?" she asked, after she'd placed the other in her bag.
"Well, it's more of a general biography, but in it, they briefly mention that his apparent rival, Hans Zydek, is suing him. I'd like to get my hands on his records and learn more about the suit. . .and what exactly he was doing that was so cutting edge."
"Which is where I come in," Scully noted.
"Exactly. I tried reading that first article for a few minutes, and suffice it to say that I'm surprised that I even managed to get from it that he's a physicist."
Scully chuckled and reached across to wipe a smudge of cloying dust from his cheek. "You have other talents, though," Scully said teasingly, and he grinned suggestively, then reached up to take her hand, and obviously looked her up and down.
"You're pretty dirty," he said a moment later, and at that Scully couldn't help but stare at him with her mouth slightly open and her heart starting to pound. Even though they'd been physically involved, he had never talked like that, let alone in the middle of a crime scene.
But at her expression, he gave an appreciative laugh, and then indicated at himself. "And so am I," he added, and she saw that he meant literally. The thick coating of fine dust still clung to their every surface, despite their repeated attempts at brushing it off.
Scully could feel a blush creep up her cheek, and she tried to hide it by leaning over to pick up her bag, but he squeezed her hand. "But there are lots of kinds of dirty," he said in an entirely different tone, and to her irritation yet thrill, Scully could feel her body immediately starting to respond to him. It was shocking to her, but these days, it just took a change in his voice. . .
"All of which call for a shower," he went on, and the dark glint in his eyes spoke to the doubled layers of meaning there.
"Yeah, ahmmm. . ." Scully swallowed, her heart suddenly in her throat. . ."well we're done here, and I don't think it would be very professional to turn up at the FBI looking like this."
"No, especially since we're already testing Agent Park's hospitality as it is," Mulder noted.
"And I should probably get out of these clothes, too. . ." Scully continued, with two sides of her simultaneously disapproving and exulting in her decision to indulge mid-day.
"Yeah, you probably should," Mulder concurred, tilted his head and looking down at her. All Scully could do was stare at his lower lip, and she unconsciously licked her own. At that, his eyes dilated and he gave her hand one last squeeze before rapidly moving around the room and gathering everything he needed. Then without another word, they strode out of the house, locked up behind them, and headed to the car.
Once they reached their usual motel, Scully left Mulder to check in while she called Montes and the lab supervisor, Dave, to bring them all into the loop, and get the criminalists over to the scene to process the crawl space. Once she had hung up, she made her way over to Mulder, who held up one of the keycards and inclined his head to his right. She turned with him and they fell in step. He caught her hand and swept his thumb back and forth across it, and their silence spoke volumes, but Scully's heart was pounding wildly in her chest.
Even though it had been over a month since they had finally broken down the last walls between them and gone 'all in,' Scully was still caught up in the newness of it all. After all, one month after seven years of status quo was a mere drop of time, and so it was still an exhilarating and adrenaline-inducing jolt every time they went into this unfamiliar territory. They had been partners for so long, but they were now starting from scratch in so many ways, and she was learning who he was as a totally different person: a sexual one. For so long, they interacted on a purely intellectual level, but now their communication had also become physical, and so she experienced him with all five senses, which was amazing, but also somewhat overwhelming.
Yet despite the momentous shift in their relationship, what was even more incredible was how much their partnership hadn't changed. . . She was in awe at how she could see more clearly into the core of him than ever before, yet it was just a magnified, more penetrating look at the person she had loved for so long. He was an open, immediate, fully tactile, urgent, and intimate version of Mulder, but he was still Mulder.
She had to admit, though, this Mulder had the capability to turn her on in a way the Mulder she'd known for the first seven years had only hinted at.
After he swiped the keycard, he pulled her into the room by their joined hands and had her up against the back of the door before it was even properly closed. Braced between his arms, with his body pressed against her, she wrapped her free hand behind his neck and drew him down to her. They looked into each other's eyes for a long, heated moment before Mulder softly uttered "Scully," and leaned down to capture her lips.
His mouth crushed against hers and she moaned and leaned forward on her toes to respond with her own enthusiasm. She loved how he kissed her, and it had become an intoxicating addiction. Just as he approached everything else in his life, he was thorough, intense, and creative; he was bold and decisive, but not controlling, and he welcomed her input. She was more than ready to give it to him, and after several minutes she broke the kiss for a moment to give him a slight push back and yank off her coat and suit jacket. Immediately, he followed her example and hastily pulled off his tie as well, then went straight for her blouse buttons, nimbly going down the row until he reached halfway down, at which point she got impatient and pulled the rest over her head as he got a start on his own shirt. They were both breathing heavily and Scully could feel a slight sweat starting around her hairline. She saw it on Mulder's forehead too, making tiny rivulets in the dark dust that had settled there, and she remembered that they were supposed to be multi-tasking.
"Mul—" she started, but his mouth was already on hers again, urging her lips open. After only a split second of trying to stay focused, she forgot about mentioning the shower; she couldn't possibly think coherently as one of his hands was at her throat, stroking slow circles at the hollow there, the other hand was slipping into her bra to coax a nipple into hardness, and his tongue was delving into her mouth and caressing hers with a rhythm that foretold of things to come. She made a high, soft vocalized sigh that she hadn't heard herself make for many years prior to last month, but now both she and Mulder were getting pretty familiar with this secret sound, and it seemed to only excite him further. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, and his hand left her breast to pull her tightly against him. Suddenly she felt her bra straps slip off her shoulders—he had expertly unfastened the clasp. He broke their kiss and leaned back, then hooked an index finger over the center strip of material in the front, and with one tug, her bra slid off her arms. As soon as it lay on the floor with their other discarded clothes, his eyes moved hungrily over her chest, and she took the time to do the same. After seven years of having to hide her glances, or needing to be in 'doctor mode' when she could actually look, it was unbelievably erotic to just look at him. It was even more unbelievably erotic to be looked at, and Scully could feel a hot glow spread across her body. She almost physically sensed the touch of where his eyes traveled—like little jolts of electricity across her skin. She wasn't the only one affected: Mulder's mouth was partially open, his eyes were dark, his chest was rising and falling rapidly. . .and drops of sweat were beading up in the slick dust along his unkempt hair.
Shower, she thought, though more out of lust than responsibility, and she darted past him suddenly. He turned around and reached for her arm, but she slipped out of his way, and sped to the bathroom, where she tossed him a mischievous, inviting smile over her shoulder, and got to work getting out of her trousers, and toeing off her heels. He was by her side in an instant and shut the door behind him, then offered her a hand as she stepped out of her underwear. Mulder then reached across her to turn on the tap and made sure the water was getting hot. . .meanwhile Scully was working to do the same with Mulder. She sat on the edge of the tub and yanked off his belt, then unfastened his pants and tugged them down his legs, all under five seconds. He looked down at her with a mix of wonder and arousal, and she responded with a small smirk. Normally, she enjoyed drawing out the anticipation, but unfortunately they didn't have the time for that now. They'd have to get back to work sooner or later. . .though in this case it looked to be a bit later. The only piece of cloth that remained between them was his boxers, and now Scully couldn't help but now take a little time to trace, then squeeze, the hard outline there. His eyes fluttered shut and his hips bucked against her hand, and she slid the tips of her fingers under the band and pulled them down over his thighs. He didn't wait for them to reach his ankles; he stepped right out of them and into the hot stream of water that was beginning to steam up the room, then grabbed her wrists and pulled her in with him.
The water began to cover her in its liquid heat, but it almost felt cool against her already-flushed skin. It quickly enveloped her, though, and she soon felt like she and Mulder were lost in their own wet, hot world. He reached for the motel's shampoo/shower gel bottle from off the side of the ledge and squeezed out a generous dollop, which he lathered into foam for a few seconds before cupping her breasts and moving the palm of his hand with deliberate care over their centers. All the while, he stared intensely into her eyes, watching her responses carefully. The steamy air was suddenly filled with the scent of lavender, and Scully's knees felt weak from the silky, slippery sensations. For a moment she just closed her eyes to take in the sensation of Mulder's movements, but it wasn't long before she had to get her hands on him as well. She helped herself to some of the gel as well, and reached up to run her fingers through his hair, using her fingertips to work it into a thick lather, which she then used to glide her fingernails down his neck and over his chest. At that, they made eye contact once again, and she reached up while he bent down, to come together in a crushing, hot, wet kiss. Their bodies slid smoothly against each other, lubricated by the frothy lavender gel, and his arms wrapped around her to pin her tightly to him. Pressed together as they were, her nipples grazed sensually across his slick skin, and sent bolts directly down below. Today, she couldn't wait long to have him inside her, but she would have to get the actual washing out of the way first. . .
She pulled from the kiss and turned smoothly in his arms so that her back was nestled against the front of his body, and she lifted her arms to work the shampoo into her own hair. He immediately covered her hands with one of his, and made slow, massaging circles against her scalp. Sighing huskily, she leaned her head back against his chest, and he dipped his head to attach his lips to the juncture of her throat and shoulder. That part of her body had always been one of the most sensitive, and as he sucked and kissed her there, she felt the sudden need to reciprocate. She reached behind her and in between them, and found the hard flesh that had been pressing insistently into her lower back. She heard a sudden intake of air from him, and his mouth worked even more fervently at her shoulder—there would definitely be a bruise left there, but fortunately it could be concealed by normal clothing. After a few early incidents that had resulted in turtlenecks for days, they knew to be more discrete. The soapy foam on her hands didn't allow her to get a firm grasp on him easily, but the combination of pressure and slipperiness seemed to be working, because he was growing in her palm, and now his hand was tracing a thick rivulet of water from her waist where he had held her, down her belly. With one hand in her wet hair, and one in her curls below, he made the same movements: slow, firm circular strokes. After several seconds she felt like she was practically boneless, where as he seemed to just get harder and tenser. She leaned against him for support, and tilted her head back against his shoulder. In an instant, he ducked down to urge her mouth open with his, and show her with his tongue what he meant to do to her in several minutes time. It slid maddeningly slowly past her lips, and stroked every surface of the inside of her mouth, before getting bolder and pressing forward dominantly; it then coaxed hers out into his mouth, where he cradled and tangled with it. He had used his talented, lithe tongue on her in more locations than her mouth, but no matter what he did with it, it was highly arousing, and she felt faint and giddy, and overcome by her five senses. She had always suspected that his oral fixation might translate into phenomenal bedroom skills, but the reality was a thousand times more incredible than even her most illicit fantasies.
He suddenly released her lips and she immediately missed them, but when he turned his head to nuzzle at her ear and huskily murmur her name, it somehow elicited even more of a physical response in her than his tongue, and she turned back to face him and push him back under the shower spray. There, as the suds came sloughing off of them in hot cascades, Mulder braced his left foot against the base of the outer rim of the bathtub, then reached behind Scully's left leg and lifted her until he could get his other knee under her and prop his foot on top of the tub's interior ledge. Scully rarely liked being reminded of her femininity in the workplace, but in her sex life, it flooded her with excitement to be handled like this, and her heart hammered in her chest and rang in her ears. Then, with unwavering eye contact of his dark green eyes that seemed to pierce into her soul, he scooped up her other leg with his left arm and pushed his hips forward to penetrate her in one swift movement. Pinned between the tiled wall and Mulder, there was nothing she could do except wrap her arms around his shoulders and hold on, as he drew back slightly, got better purchase on her right thigh and lifted it up more to plunge even deeper
He was still watching her face closely, as he moved against her in slow but purposeful strokes, and she wanted to keep that link open, and get lost in those dark pupils, but her eyes kept trying to flicker closed and give her over to the feeling of tension that was beginning to tauten with every one of Mulder's thrusts. Instead, she leaned her head forward and touched her wet forehead to his in an unspoken but familiar assertion of her feelings for him. But just as her eyes shut, her mouth dropped open in a loud, surprised exhale than ended in his name, when he slightly changed angles and hit her at an incredibly sweet spot. In tune with her as always, he responded by bucking even harder against her at the same position, and her eyes shot open and she needed him to kiss her immediately. He was only too happy to oblige, and responded even further by inserting his right hand between them and pressing his thumb down in tight circles just above where they were joined.
These were the moments that flashed back to her during the workday and set her heart racing even when she was doing the most mundane activity: when they were moving as one, pressed together so tightly that she had no idea where one ended and the other began, when she could feel his heart beating right up against hers, and their minds seemed to flow together in a way that they had never quite managed in all their years as partners. . .and that was saying a lot. But all those years had certainly been good preparation—and killer foreplay—because from the very first time they had slept together, he had seemed to know instinctively what she wanted or needed, what she liked, and what she was feeling at any given moment. It was almost as if he were inside her mind, feeling what she felt, and acting accordingly. Besides the incredible physical gratification it brought, it was an unbelievable rush to have him so profoundly connected to her on every level. She'd had amazing sex with other lovers before, and she and Mulder had shared an extraordinary intellectual and emotional bond for years, but the combination of the two was intoxicatingly potent and life-altering.
When they had discussed it one late night, their bodies entwined in the dark of her apartment, he had told her that he was experiencing the same thing, and was much, much better at sex with her than he'd ever been in his life. And then he'd told her how much he loved her, in earnest, frank words. She had finally shared the entire truth of her emotions for him as well, and afterwards, they reiterated their words through action. For the first time in her life, she had known complete, absolute happiness, and they skipped work the next day to prevent the realities of the outside world from touching them, for just a little bit longer.
Since then, they had taken even greater steps in their relationship, and had told each other how they felt face to face, in the light of day. She still found it slightly scary to make herself so vulnerable, but that also made it exhilarating as well, and it acted as a profound aphrodisiac. For that reason, with one initial exception, they'd never gone there during their work. It was too new, too private, and too potent to be used any time but their personal time, which they guarded passionately.
Now in this closed, steaming, wet, hot space, time was short but entirely their own, and Mulder was still thrusting into her unrelentingly, though with an increasingly erratic rhythm. In the humidity of the shower, he was losing a grip on her right leg and she wrapped both legs around his back, drawing him even deeper in and setting her nerve endings into overload. Starting to pant in earnest, she looked down, watching him pull in and out of her while his muscles flexed and rippled. Then she tipped her head back up towards his face, where she found her lifeline in Mulder's intense, searching gaze. She wanted to exist in this moment forever, drowning in those wide dark pupils that watched her with such lust and passion, but she was also so, so close.
"Love—love you," she gasped, and she lifted one arm from his neck to touch his face tenderly, then pushed her fingers through his wet hair. He closed his eyes appreciatively at her touch, and then dropped his forehead against hers again while giving a sudden, throaty moan. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck once more and sought out his lips, while tilting her hips and squeezing him tightly below as well. At that he let out another low, urgent noise into her mouth, then broke the kiss for a brief moment to punctuate it with her name and a give her a meaningful, reverential look. She was a fluent interpreter of every one of Mulder's nuanced expression, and understood his meaning clearly, but when he murmured huskily, "Love you—" he paused to give a short grunt "—so much," it was somehow even more arousing. . .She had seen that look for years, but only recently had he openly vocalized it to her.
She was gasping heavily now, and with each thrust a small, breathless cry escaped her lips reflexively. Mulder seemed to be close as well. He caught his breath just long enough to lean forward into her neck and mutter in her ear, "Come for me, Scully," lust making his voice rough. He followed this up by increasing the pressure of his thumb on her, and speeding up the movements and force of his hips, so that the back of her head bumped against the tile with every thrust. The combination of his voice and his actions had an immediate, major effect, and the sensations she felt where they came together seemed to surge to unbelievable heights, but still didn't break. Instead they expanded to her whole body, and became her entire world: all she could sense, all she could feel was him, all around her. With all five senses he was in her, surrounding her, and the growing tension was the sweetest agony imaginable. She was practically hyperventilating from the overwhelming pleasure of it, and though hers seemed to build and build without shattering, Mulder suddenly convulsed and slammed her violently against the shower wall once more, calling out some garbled version of her name before collapsing forward on her heavily. Still, he continued the insistent, stroking movement of his thumb on her, and watched her from where he rested his cheek against the tiles.
"Scully, come for me," he urged her again, his face flushed and his breathing heavy, and he ground his hips into her one last time.
This seemed to be the final straw, and Scully both saw and felt sparks as a tremendous climax shattered all around her. She felt it in every part of her, from deep within, to her tingling skin. Gulping in air, she struggled to open her eyes as wave after wave of unbelievable pleasure exploded over her, and she turned her head to look into Mulder's face. There she found a look of intense love and passion, which seemed to only prolong the overwhelming sensations, and he held onto her tightly, never breaking eye contact, as she trembled from the various aftershocks. After those several moments that seemed to stretch on and on, she finally slipped her legs from around his waist and slid down to sit on the inner ledge weakly. He reached over for the taps in a daze to finally shut off the water, which was starting to become tepid, and then sank into the tub and pulled her onto him, where their hearts pounded rapidly in unison.
She nestled into him and sprinkled kissed over his chest, and he wrapped her in his arms and squeezed tightly. She could feel his eyes on her then, and she looked up to see him regarding her seriously. He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips, then pushed her damp hair tenderly from her face.
She loved him—she couldn't imagine what she would do if anything ever happened to him. Maybe that's why they'd held out for so long, she often thought. Because it had already been excruciating when they were separated, so how would it be now that they were truly two halves of one whole, if rent apart? Could she survive as only a half?
She tried to flush the disturbing thought from her mind, and focus on the solid, warm, wet feeling of his body pressed against hers here and now, but this anxiety always intruded on any moment of absolute contentment and peace with him. And Scully knew Mulder felt it, too, through the countless little protective actions she saw on a daily basis.
But so far, this nagging but persistent fear was only one drawback, compared to the millions of other joys that came from their new intimate relationship. If she could make the choice again, she would, enthusiastically. And she knew Mulder had no regrets despite their increased concerns, either—except maybe that they had only started after seven years, and not sooner. . .
Scully felt sated and heavy, and she could tell Mulder felt the same and was on the edge dozing, but they had a job to do. They were clean now, so the excuses and justifications had run their course. Very, very reluctantly, she grasped the edge of the tub and hoisted herself up, breaking out of Mulder's arms. She looked behind her and saw that his eyes were now open, but he was wearing a drowsy, petulant expression. She smiled to herself, thinking that before last month, he wouldn't be caught dead lying in a bathtub during business hours when there was an ongoing X-File case with viable leads. But she was betting not that much had actually changed. . .
"A potential mad scientist was murdered in a locked room and his kids have vanished under equally mysterious circumstances," she reminded him, as she stepped out of the tub, and like a charm, he grinned concedingly and climbed to his feet in seconds, reaching for a towel.