Visitation number 3, 4 and a half.

2 pm, August 14th 2001,

Bennett Avenue 67,

Washington, D.C.,

my apartment.

"We'll be there in 45 minutes "- says John's text. I have to get up and get ready. But the bed is so comfortable.

Dana and John are coming over to discuss a case and their recent findings. I had been staking out in front of the suspect's house last night and got to sleep in because of that. My bed is a comfortable warm haven from murderers, uncomfortable car seats and Scully and Doggett at my place. I guess it makes sense that they come over. It means I can stay in bed longer. It's actually quite nice of them. But I am a little bit nervous, apprehensive about what it will be like to have her here again, to have her here in a professional setting. How to not kiss her and push her against the door or onto my bed, but instead talk autopsy reports as if nothing has changed, to see her walk through my apartment, with which she has become so intimately familiar, and have Agent Doggett be a witness to it. But it does makes sense and I really needed the sleep. Car seats suck. And sometimes while I lay in my bed I feel like she is still there with me. Or might be just a hand's reach away. But of course she is always gone.

It is as if the room has taken on a new meaning, as if Dana has taken over my space, since we have been meeting like this – my bed, the door, the couch, the bathroom door, I stare at while she gets dressed. I really really have to get dressed: while I wouldn't mind greeting Dana like this, in nothing but a black sleeping gown, Doggett would be entirely confused and maybe get the wrong idea. Or right idea. I slept with Agent Scully. I leave the bed and enter the bathroom. A quick shower. I imagine her hands touching me as I stand in the hot water and lather. I always do now. I have to remind myself that this was supposed to be quick. I love her hands. Her touch. I'd love to have her here in my shower too.

I put on some make up - only mascara and some foundation, and stand in front of my closet. Dana always looks so professional. Or Agent Scully does. Dana looks wonderful in lace underwear or nothing and I'd love to see her in sleep wear, or a bathrobe, or anything really. What to wear? Causal professional. Maybe leather. It is strange how I now care. Kind of. I take out brown slacks a bright red t-shirt and a blazer to make it more work appropriate. A small leather bracelet. I need socks. Shoes would be ridiculous, wouldn't it. Wearing shoes at my own home. I brush my hair and brush my teeth, and… am ten minutes early. Enough time to make a coffee and put on perfume. In the kitchen I notice stuff lying around: an old tea mug, a blanket, a book, a magazine, a hair pin. I tidy up. Wouldn't want to appear too messy even though both Dana and John have seen my place in other, less organized situations. I run to my bathroom to put on perfume as I hear the doorbell ring. I buzz them in and put out some glasses. In case they want water or something. When I am done, they knock at my door. I am ready to face them, I think.

"Hi, Monica," John walks in first, but my eyes are already on the person following him. Dana's eyes are turned down than meet my gaze. I smile: "Come in." She looks gorgeous: grey button-down shirt dark blue tight pantsuit, lipstick and blush. I turn around and offer them some water. Doggett says "Yes, thanks Monica" and Dana "Thank you". I notice her watching, scanning me and look over at her. I see her bending over. She is taking off her shoes. She is so sweet. Doggett looks confused as hell. I hold the water bottle and stare at her with a smile. Doggett says: "We won't stay long". He blushes. She is so cute. I need to do something. I appreciate her taking off her shoes. I need to think about what this implies, but I don't have time. I bring over the water and glasses. "Make yourselves comfortable…" She blushes even more "What gifts are you bearing? Did we get the evidence?" I am trying to make her smile or engage her in a conversation. We all settle in on the couch. Doggett drinks his water dutifully and I realize I shouldn't have worried about Dana feeling awkward at all. She has regained her pre-taking-her-shoes-off composure and is professional, no non-sense, sexy-as-hell Special Agent Dana Scully, but with only pantyhose-clad tiny feet.

As I had assumed nothing substantial has really developed in regard to the case. All of us seem pretty sure who the killer is, the guy whose house I parked in front of almost all of last night, X-files-style ignoring the fact that he seems to have been at three, not two, but three, places at the same time. Doggett believes, because it seems like the most logical explanation despite it being impossible. A-to-B-to-C, or something. Dana because of the evidence of the autopsy - despite there being no bullet-proof, court-proof evidence, like DNA or fingerprints, other signs on the body, of victim and killer, indicate that it's most likely him. And there is some kind of bio-slime that Agent Mulder, as Dana tells us, believes to be some kind of ectoplasm found on the threshold between dimensions or at the site of so called "walk-ins", angel-meetings. And it is this goo with which they have come to my place today, or rather the results of some lab tests that Agent Scully had them do on it. I know the killer is the killer, because I can feel it. The way he dodged questions, the way he looked at us, he held my gaze, when we questioned him. His aura really. But obviously there is also no hard evidence in that.

I think we are a good team, in our own way. I am sure Dana misses Mulder, the way she says his name. the way she is able to summarize his theories with the utmost respect for him even though she might not believe in every part of it, and seems to carefully avoid the word "goo" or "slime". But I do wonder, if she thinks this too. If she sits here with John an me, and thinks, that we are good together. Professionally speaking of course.

What I do see is her looking around the apartment. Actually towards my bed. Now and then. The door is open. She is the image of professionalism and expertise, naming chemical compounds and their natural occurrences, and using words that only medical students with talented tongues are able to produce at that speed. But every now and then she looks towards my bedroom. Of course I have left the door to my untidy bedroom open, but you Dana, took off your shoes. I left it open, when I put on the perfume actually, which I hope you noticed. I have no idea what your are thinking, when you look towards my bed, but I wish I did. Do you feel uncomfortable, do you feel reminded? Can you smell the other night in my new sheets, just like me?

I like her here. I like them both here and I like us three as a team. "It's settled. " As if we took a vote, as if we need to. "We have no … evidence, that will hold, but we'll keep an eye on him," says Doggett. Nodding. "And I will take the next shift in the car. Kersh doesn't have to know," Dana adds. "Eventually we will find something leading us to him. We must," I say. Doggett is packing his things, arranging the file: "I'll talk to the witness again. Somebody must have seen something". I like this, but now they have to leave. Dana is getting up, though more hesitantly: "I'll just drop the reports off before my shift today and ask them to run a comparison to the results of the case from 96." I nod. If she has to leave, she has to leave. Dana is putting on her shoes, as Doggett is almost out the door. I hold it for both of them. We say our goodbyes and then they are gone. Not a second glance at me. But I'm sure I've seen her take an eyeful of my bed again. I wonder if John did.

As I take their glasses and carry them to the sink, I can finally start analyzing this very peculiar behavior: her taking off her shoes, her looking into my bedroom. The optimist in me says there is something subconscious in her that told her she might like to be there too. In my bed with me. I pour myself another glass. Maybe, hopefully, a little bit longer one day. Or maybe this is not the optimist, but the dreamer. I am glad I do not harbor a pessimist. There's a knock. I walk over to the door, look through the peephole.

It's Dana. I let her in. Auto-pilot. The dreamer says she is here for the bed. The realist says she has forgotten the lab report. She looks at me and closes the door behind her: "I told Doggett I'll take my own car, that I have to pick something up, and I'll meet him in the office." I nod. I slowly move towards my couch. What does she have to pick up?. She comes towards me. Her briefcase is dropped on the table. "I don't have long". She is only inches from me, I recognize her look. Her body is touching mine. There is only a little bit of doubt in her eyes, there must be shock in mine. Her hands touch my shoulder. Her hands are in my hair. I am pulled into a searing kiss. This woman will kill me – with excitement.

Kissing her feels as heavenly as I remembered. Her hands are on my shoulder. She breaks the kiss. And looks at me. Her glance moves back and forth from one eye to the other, than she smiles, and slowly, sexily and pushes me onto the couch. I less than gracefully yelp, and am suddenly sitting. She follows swiftly, both legs beside me on either side she sits on my lap, her upper body touching mine and the weight of her tiny body delicious on my crotch. Is this a dream? She looks into my eyes again. Deeply this time. Her hands are in my hair and she touches me so sweetly, so tenderly, almost playfully running them though my hair playing with the tips of it. And then she kisses me again.

Everything feels wonderful. First I am hardly following just flooded by her, the weight of the experience, until finally all the sensations are so much that I register them one by one, and start kissing und touching her. Her back, the side of her face, her shoulder. She kisses me ferociously. When I reach her upper thigh. She moves upwards. She leaves my lap. she stops my hand, but she is still kissing me. Her hands take mine away. "I don't have long," is all she says and her lips are on mine again.

Paradoxically she now kisses me more patiently than before, slowly, sweetly. Open -mouthed kisses, and a lot of tongue. Her hands keep moving. It's heaven. It's painfully delicious. But I am doing my best to not touch her, to not push her into the couch by her shoulders and crawl on top of her. But every now and again she pushes her weight down on me also incredibly slowly and rises again. I can feel her heat and the pressure. I am again rendered very basic by my need for her. I want her so badly. This is heaven. This is torture, the sweetest kind. As she pushes down again, I moan. And whisper her name, "Mhh, Dana". As if awoken from a dream she stops, and then she is getting up.

I am just sitting, just as dumbfounded as I was when she came in. She is rearranging her clothing, pulling on her blouse that has risen up. "I have to go". She goes through her hair, when she is already at the door. "Okay," is all I can muster. I am well-kissed and slack-jawed. This time when she leaves I do get a last glance over her shoulder and it's a good one.

I stare at the door for a while. This woman! Mhh, Dana. I bite my lip. I only notice that my hips feel like they have been glued to the couch, or rather pushed into it, when I move them. When I move them I notice I am wet. I do not only have the greatest burning between my legs and behind my belly button, and somewhere in the mush of my brain, I am incredibly wet. Soaking. For Dana. Because of her. Because of this incredible impromptu make-out session she instigated. And a little bit because of the way she pushed my body into the couch, I have to admit. The slowness of her movements, the sweetness of her touch. I am already half naked when I notice I have been moving towards the shower. Apparently some part of my brain that is still alive and well has decided I am going to take a shower. And another part of my brain is fairly certain I won't refrain from my thoughts of Dana this time.

8.11 pm, August 15th 2001,

Bennett Avenue 67,

Washington, D.C.,

my apartment.

Today is Doggett's night to stake out in front of the suspect's house, as neither Dana nor me could find any evidence of the suspect leaving his house the last two nights, while the victims are literally piling up. The body count is disgusting really. Kersh suggested it's more than one man can produce actually in a couple of nights and he might be right. However, we still believe it's him, the suspect. And there doesn't really need to be signs of him leaving the house if my theory is correct, only signs of some strange portal to other dimensions where versions of him kill victims. And then pile them up. But we have found no such signs, no glowing, no lost time, no dimension-goo, nothing, and his is why Doggett is now camping out.

I have just arrived home and I do not envy John. We have had a really long disturbing day. All those victims, some of them not even identified and all our justification of why we want to continue observing our suspect. Once for AD Skinner, and then again for every other FBI official with a name. I think they might not even care if we do, they just want us Spookies out of the way. And that's fine by me. I am exhausted. Dana must be worse than me. Not only was she part of the advocacy tour for our joint suspect number one, but she looked at the autopsy reports of all victims and some of the bodies themselves. She had such energy today, and such quite determinism. I do wonder when she prepares her lessons. Or maybe she doesn't have to. Maybe she doesn't need to sleep. Maybe she is a superhero after all.

I put on my nightgown, and am walking around with bare feet. I have not eaten all day, really, just some snacks but I am not hungry. Maybe I should prepare something, maybe something that I can keep in my fridge for the rest of the week. So that I won't forget to eat. As I look through my cabinet, it knocks. I will be treated to another kiss at least. It must be Dana. I think I can almost hear it in the knock. Maybe I have learned to identify her by her knock.

I walk over to the door and am already excited. I open it grinning somewhat widely with happy thoughts of times to come. It is her. Of course it is. She hasn't changed from her working clothes and carries her bag. She smiles as she sees my expression. Actually it is just a hopeful glance, corners of the mouth turned upward. Her bag drops to the floor. She scans me, looks down and then up again. I think she might be liking my nighttime attire.

The hopeful look turns into a look of mirth. She bends over and gets rid of her shoes. We both chuckle. Her hair falls in front of her face as she does that. Who knew taking of the shoes could be so erotic. I just watch her and keep smiling.

Then she is upright again and slowly moves towards me holding my gaze. It is so sexy that I don't right away notice her fingers unbuttoning her shirt, tugging it out of her skirt. My smile is now gone. This is so sexy. She takes of her shirt and lets it drop on the arm-rest of the couch. She is wearing a white tank top underneath. almost see-through, and a white cotton bra, potentially see through but definitely thin. I am touching her before I know it, my hands on her ribcage, and then embracing her. Her skin is very warm. It is my time to kiss her and I do. Once fully, on the lips, than her jaw, and finally her very inviting exposed neck. She whimpers in support. Her back towards my bedroom door, I slowly walk us both over to my bedroom one large unsteady step at a time. Then suddenly I am stopped by hand on chest pushing me away from her a little bit. Oh, no! "Couch" is all she says. I am relieved and I oblige. I sit down on the couch the same spot as last time, and patiently wait. She grabs her tank top at the hem and loses it over her head. She is so friggin' sexy. I wait patiently and am rewarded when she sits on my lap again. Not quite as snuggly as last time though, because of her very very tight pencil skirt.

Her bra is see through. I kiss her neck and touch her breast with palms. I then circle one pronounced nipple with my finger. She is delicious. I almost bite into her neck, but just nibble instead and taste her skin it with my tongue. I knead her breast and butt. She rises a little bit. I think she wants my mouth on her breasts and this is exactly where it wants to be. I cover her back-bra clasp with one hand and close my mouth over her nipple right, cover it through the bra. I breath hot breath on it warming the cotton, making her shudder, the other hand around her other breast. She whimpers. then I circle her nipple with my wet tongue, and she immediately pushes her pelvis against mine. Forcefully. Because she likes this so, I repeat this with the other nipple, which earns me another thrust of her hips. When I want to suck, she stops me: she takes my head into her hand and lowers her face to kiss me sweetly, than shakes her head nosh is so beautiful. Her hair falls around my face. She wants me to touch her breast, but not suck. Maybe we are keeping the bra on for a while. I continue my work on each breast a couple of times until she is almost grinding herself against me. Her breathing has changed. I just love how she enjoys this. How she enjoys sleeping with me, obviously. Even if this is just sex, it such a pleasure.

She slowly raises her hips and finds my eyes. She holds the gaze when she tugs on her pencil skirt to shove it up legs . I love how self-assured she is tonight. How assertive. Maybe this balances out her dutifulness at work today. I find the zipper at the back and unzip it. Together we bundle her skirt over her hips. she is about to sit down again, when I stop her fondling her ass. Her sexy butt in white cotton panties. Thin panties. I can see a patch of dark and her swollen lips outlined. I Lick my lips. I do feel hungry, I guess. She notices and kisses me, as sweetly, as patiently, as openly as last time as I just knead her ass. Both om my thumbs find there way to the front of her panties and I caress the outline of her lips. The panties are definitely wet, she is. And swollen. and I slowly trace upwards. She takes in air sharply, throwing her head back from the kiss. I can watch. I don't quite make it to where she wants me, and she waits. As my thumbs move down again. I am so enjoying this. I move inwards only once quickly, and then trace again. Her upper body is erect, legs spread. She is still wearing her bra. I mover upwards again a little closer and her breath hitches again. She wants this bad. Than my palms are on her hip bones on her flat stomach, as her eyes open. She looks at me wildly. I know. I know what you want Dana. My hands travel upwards. To her breast I circle her nipples and give them my treatments she is almost rocking. Then my hands move to the back and unclasp. I take her bra off, stroke her arms. Her eyes are closed. I stroke her back and slowly touch my tongue to her right nipple. She sucks in air and moves her hips. Oh, Dana! If you could see yourself right now. As I move my hands down her body again. She sighs "hmh" when I reach my destination. At the crotch of her panties I pick up my slow teasing torture from moments ago . But Dana won't have it she takes my hands and directs them to her center and breathes in. I moan. This is so sexy. I have some power even though the cotton but I would have more without. Two fingers find their ways inside of her panties and now I am truly touching her. Exploring rather than giving her what she need. I nibble at her nipple and soothe it with my tongue. I kiss her neck one hand moves up on her back. She wants more. When my hands are both on her back I look for the space around us, and in one swift move lay her flat on the couch.

She has suspected that it would come to this, and smiles. We kiss. I link my hand through her panties and lose ,them not very elegantly but as quickly as I can manage. I then take her very nicely shaped strong thighs and move them around my hips. I begin to rise hoping I will be able to carry her to the bedroom. Not certain I can. She does not help. "Bed" I moan into her lips. She shakes her head "here, now!". Okay! I swiftly find her wetness again. I circle around her clit, and she shuts her eyes moaning, her head rolling on her shoulders a tiny bit, mimicking the movement of my fingers. than I stop and I shove to fingers into her. She yelps "Mh". I kiss her neck but move quickly downwards. It doesn't take much to simultaneously crawl out of the nothing I was wearing and down her body. When my mouth reaches the dark patch, she is already circling her hips, raising them. She wants me bad. Every now and then I pull my fingers in and out of her. But really tonight it will be all about my tongue. And my hunger for he. Her tenderness and her forcefulness. I kiss the place where her lips meet tenderly. Right above where she needs me, and she moans unashamed. She sighs my name. The most beautiful sound I have ever heard. I won't let her wait much longer. I slowly draw circles around clit. The moment my tongue touches her, half her body rises from the couch. And then her hands are in my hair. "Ohhh." She cannot hold still, as I circle and circle driving her wild. With the first flick she grabs my hair rather forcefully almost painfully. "Oh! hmh"" It was a surprise. She is now rocking into me, and tenderly runs her hands through my hair, trying not to grab or push too much. I am on my knees in front of her, when I suck her into my mouth. She get's really loud. I pump my fingers. as I move my head back and forth keeping the suction, Then she starts to come. He back leaves the couch, her head falls back, her muscles tense. and I can hear a steady mantra of "oh!oh!oh!oh!", as I suck her to her orgasm and down from it. Lapping then Kissing.

When her breathing returns to normal, she is still stroking my hair and I am still watching her. There is some sweat on her chest. her hair is all over the place, mine must be nest. Her cheeks are red. Her eyes are closed, and she looks as if she is still in the land of pleasure. I move upwards to her. Wiping my face without her seeing it. Then she opens her eyes. At first they are unfocused and then she finds mine. "mmh, Monica..". I love my name coming from her mouth, especially in situations like this. Especially when she breathes it. I touch the side of her face stroke it. I wonder how she feels about tasting herself on my lips. I slowly lean in. Her hands are on my arms. My eyes are open. Does she want to taste this, try this. I lean in very slowly holding her gaze. This kiss will be sweet. And it is. Despite her grabbing my head again. She is enjoying this. Her lips and mouth explore and are pliant. Her tongue touches mine and she sucks me in. She finds this sexy. She likes that I just went down on her and am kissing her now. I need to store that in my memory, it is probably burned into it. Her hands begin to move on my body. I am burning hot for her!

We are kissing, her hands have found my underwear and then… the phone rings. We both stop and turn, she groans in frustration and I mumble "shit" against her cheek. It must be Doggett. I have to get it. Of course she understands. I am not sure I do. I grab the phone "Hello?". "Monica, get Agent Scully and get here. You won't believe this. I am not sure how to explain it. The cavalry is on its way." I look over at Dana, she has heard every word. "We'll be there soon". I am standing in my underwear in my living room. Dana is getting up. We get dressed very quickly. each on our own. We steal glances at the other. Somehow this feels almost more intimate than everything else. Maybe it is because, there has normally been a door between us. I love to watch her button her shirt, maybe not as much as unbuttoning it. I love to watch her zip up the skirt. And I have to chuckle when she reaches for her shoes. Being distracted by her beauty and the intimacy I have done the best job I could dressing myself, making myself presentable. But I might have been somewhat unsuccessful as she still smoothes my hair out during the car ride.