Chapter 2

Fox Mulder

Complicated. The relationship between Fox Mulder and Dana Scully has always been complicated.

They were put together in an effort for her to debunk his work into the paranormal. He may not have trusted her when she walked into his basement office in 1992, but it didn't take long before she was the only one he would fully trust.

They were used to the rumors circulating about them at the Bureau. Mulder felt slightly guilty that Scully's mere association with him tainted her reputation. Fiercely loyal to him, she had constantly stood up for him, defended him and fought for him and his cause. He knew it had become her cause, too. Even still, their relationship, built on mutual respect and dedication to their work, was at first solely professional as partners. Slowly, they even became friends. But it didn't take long before they were inextricably tied together.

They were drawn to one another by the challenges they faced, and even worse, the tragedies they suffered. She was abducted, experimented on, and fought cancer. She lost her father, then her sister, and finally a daughter she hadn't known even existed. She had been left barren. She faced evil she had never imagined. Mulder fought his personal demons just as often as he did shadowy government figures and monsters in the dark. His father was murdered, and his mother committed suicide. His sister, for whom he had sacrificed everything to find, was dead, and had been since she was 14. He was the only one left, and the only person he had left in the world was Scully.

Through the insanity, it was Scully who kept him grounded. Without her, he would be lost. Without her, he was sure he'd be dead. He couldn't begin to understand why she stayed with him, why she didn't just put in a transfer back to Quantico years ago. Why she didn't accept defeat the first time they were split up, just shook his hand claiming it had been nice working with him, and never looked back. Hell, why she didn't run screaming from him the first day she showed up in his basement office and introduced herself as his new partner. Even though he knew how much being with him had cost her, and how deeply he felt the pain of her many losses, he was desperately grateful she was there. As annoying as her skepticism could be at times, he knew without her science, without her reasoning, and without her watching his back, he would never have gotten this far.

So, what changed? What made him fall in love with Scully? He'd known for years that he loved Scully, and she loved him. Nearly losing someone will force that realization, as it had for him when she was abducted. But it used to be different. It had always been about the work, and finding the truth. It had been about their partnership and friendship. He had been content to think of Scully as his one in five billion, the only person on the planet who ever believed him, or at the very least, didn't dismiss him outright as being insane.

Then suddenly, there was something more. Maybe it was when he almost lost her to cancer. Maybe it was that moment in the hallway outside his apartment when he told her she made him a whole person, with a brief spark of emotion between them that nearly resulted in a kiss, his mouth so close to hers that he could taste her breath. He'd gone to the other end of the world to save her, knowing if he lost her, he couldn't go on. But never had he imagined crossing the line from friendship to a sexual relationship. Okay, so he'd imagined. He'd imagined a lot. He's a man after all, and she is a beautiful woman. But he never imagined it could actually happen.

They had never talked about the almost-kiss, both avoiding the uncomfortable fact that they had nearly crossed a line. After they returned from Antarctica, he had gotten angry at her, believing she had failed to support him before OPR. He initially pushed her away, intent upon continuing his work even though they were off the X-Files.

Maybe it was his trip to the Bermuda Triangle, when he kissed Scully's doppelganger in 1939. When he woke up in the hospital, he confessed to Scully he loved her. She thought it was just the drugs talking. Maybe it was. But even though he wasn't ready to admit it to himself, he knew there was something more there.

It didn't matter, however, because a romantic relationship with his partner was out of the question. He'd done that once before with Diana Fowley. And he knew Scully had done the same with an instructor at the Academy. They had an unspoken oath that they would not repeat their mistakes. That didn't stop his feelings, and certainly not his desires, but it did prevent him from acting on them. He would never risk their partnership over romantic yearnings. He might make sexual innuendos, but he would never act on them. He didn't think he would act on them. Okay, so he would probably act on them. But that didn't mean that he should. Should he?

That didn't prevent them from getting closer, however. They had begun to spend time together outside of their usual work routine. They had spent some time at one another's apartments, actually enjoying each other's company. He took in how her hair smelled when they went to the park to hit baseballs. He found himself touching her more, brushing strands of hair from her face, touching her back, arms and wrists. He knew he shouldn't, but they were becoming comfortable with one another, and more intimate.

Scully saved his life yet again when she rescued him from a DOD facility using Diana's keycard, an event that got Diana killed. Throughout that ordeal, he realized what mattered most. He had dreamed of this ordinary life with Diana, but he knew, even as he was dreaming it, what he wanted most was an extraordinary life with Scully. When Scully told him that Diana was murdered because she helped Scully get him out of there, he knew he should have felt an immediate pang of sorrow for losing Diana. But all he could think of was that it could have been Scully, and that's what made him choke back tears. He didn't tell her that though. Instead, he told her she was his touchstone, his constant. Although he wanted to kiss her then, he didn't.

However, he couldn't help himself on New Year's. She'd just saved his sorry ass, again. He would have been eaten alive by apocalyptic zombies had she not been there. She took him to the hospital, got him patched up, just in time for the new millennium. There she was in the hospital lobby, looking up at the television with a starry look in her eyes. He didn't know what possessed him to be so bold, but he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a long chaste kiss. Speaking with double entendre, he smiled and noted that the world had not ended. Seemingly bewildered, yet amused, she had smiled back at him and agreed with his assessment. Another intimate moment never discussed.

Things took a turn for the worse when Pfaster escaped from prison. He couldn't even imagine the torment Scully was going through during the case, and then to have that sick son-of-a-bitch attack her again... Mulder knew that if Scully had been dead when he arrived at her apartment, he would have emptied his gun into Pfaster's head himself. He wished he had. Wished he could take away Scully's guilt for killing Pfaster, wishing he could take away her doubts that she did the right thing. Perhaps procedurally she had erred, but after he saw what Pfaster did to her, he wished the bastard were still alive so he could kill him himself, after beating the living shit out of him.

The police questioned them but it didn't take long since no one doubted the necessity of fatally shooting an escaped serial killer. Especially one who had turned a woman who is five-three and barely over 100 pounds into a punching bag, and about to brutally murder and disfigure her. He had made sure his report reflected the necessity of shooting Pfaster, so Scully would not suffer any consequences at the FBI, even though the police did not intend to pursue a case against her.

After the police were done with them, he took her back to his apartment. His hands trembled as he removed shards of glass from her back. He managed to choke back any expression, as he didn't want Scully to know exactly how much this event had gotten to him. He didn't want her to know how the life had drained from him when he saw Pfaster in her apartment, not knowing if Scully was already dead. How, if Pfaster had killed her, he might as well have killed him too. Rather, he knew she wasn't in the mood to talk, and neither was he, and he certainly didn't want to burden her with his own pain. Silently he had tucked her into his bed and lay next to her, and held her hand while stroking her hair. He didn't ask if she wanted to be alone, he knew she'd tell him she was fine and would shut down even more. So he crawled under the covers with her and held her, soothing her in her sleep when the evening's events began to torment her. Waking up to her in his arms made all of the anger and fear of the previous night's events slip away. She was safe, and she was with him. It would all be okay.

Even so, the rest of the year's events had left him distant from her again. He would find himself vulnerable, take solace in her arms, and then push her away again. It was a vicious cycle. His mother's suicide, then finally knowing his sister had died. But the event he won't share with Scully is finding out he is dying. He can't tell her, he couldn't burden her with his illness. He remembered how deeply her cancer had affected him, the helplessness and the despair. And he didn't want to spend what time he had left with her pitying him, or have her spend the rest of her life feeling guilty when she couldn't find a way to save him. So he kept his distance, and shut her out of his pain.

When she came to him with the request to make a child with her in the IVF procedure, he had agreed. He wanted to give her the one thing she wanted the most. But he agreed not just because she had asked him, even though he would do anything she asked of him, but selfishly out of a biological imperative. His family was gone, and soon he would be too. If he could help create a child, Scully's child, then maybe he could come to terms with dying. At the same time, the thought had made him immensely sad. To create a child he would never get the chance to know. He didn't tell her this, of course. Instead he told her his initial hesitation was fear that it would come between them.

However, the procedure had failed. He knew how devastated Scully was, even though as a doctor she knew she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. After mourning yet another loss with Scully, another sleepless night together of sorrow, he threw himself back into the work, desperate to finish what he could before his brain betrayed him. He knew Scully wasn't so enthusiastic. He had sent her on too many wild goose chases and she was getting fed up. He didn't blame her for not going with him to England, not really. He'd gotten angry at the time, but more that he was just feeling desperate.

When he came back though, her entire life had changed. She'd had a vision in a Buddhist temple and she'd even brought a spiritual healer to her former lover's hospital bed. Dana Scully, a woman of science and logic and reasoning, had not only believed in the paranormal but embraced it. Most importantly, she seemed at peace. She wasn't annoyed with him anymore. In fact, she seemed happy to be with him, believing that she was on the path she was supposed to be. With him.

He could have talked to her all night, but she eventually dozed off on his couch. He tucked his blanket around her, and couldn't help but push a loose strand of soft red hair back behind her ear. He went into his bedroom and laid awake thinking about their conversation, and trying not to think of the woman he was in love with sleeping on his couch, instead of in his bed where he felt she belonged. He had almost fallen asleep when he heard the soft creak of his dresser drawer. He opened his eyes to watch as Scully disrobed right in front of him. He could make out her slim figure in the moonlight, clad only in satin panties and a lace bra. He should probably have closed his eyes and given her privacy, but he couldn't help but drink in her beautiful body exposed to him this way.

He was disappointed to see her pull out one of his t-shirts and slip it on over her head. He had dared to hope that she was coming to seduce him, but knew she was uncomfortable in her suit and was too tired to drive home. However, he was pleasantly surprised when instead of returning to the couch, she crawled into bed with him. He couldn't resist pulling her into his arms and drifting back to sleep, warmed by her touch. The next morning, he woke to find her already gone, her scent still lingering on his sheets and on him. They wouldn't even mention this, he knew. It was far too intimate to even joke about, and he didn't want to embarrass her.

He wanted her to do it again.

After spending a lonely Friday night over-analyzing his relationship with Scully, Mulder decided he needed a distraction for the remainder of the weekend. He decided to spend his Saturday afternoon playing video games with the Lone Gunmen. He was looking forward to a day of testosterone-filled virtual violence to fill the lonely void. However, he couldn't help but remember how completely bad-ass Scully had been when she had fought off the murderous video game goddess. The guys couldn't help but remember either. Not that Frohike needed any encouragement when lusting after the "delicious" Agent Scully, but that impressive display of hot-chick ass-kicking had put him into sensory overload. Honestly, it had much the same effect on Mulder.

Once the gaming session was over, he returned home to an empty apartment. Just him and some fish. He was suddenly struck by its emptiness and the quiet was overwhelming.

That's when he decided to head over to Scully's place. He shouldn't be wasting whatever time he had left sitting around feeling sorry for himself. He knew he couldn't be with Scully, not like he wanted to, but that didn't mean they couldn't spend time together. He wanted to spend time with her. He wanted to enjoy her company while he still could.

So, he ordered a pizza on his way over to her apartment, paid the pizza guy and told him to wait five minutes before taking it upstairs. When Scully came to the door, he made up some crazy story that he knew would get a rise out of her, hoping she'd be so grateful he wasn't actually whisking her off on another wild goose chase that she'd let him stay (instead of shooting him).

Even so, he'd almost lost his composure with a brief flicker of honesty. He had admitted he was there because he was lonely. What he didn't tell her was that being without her was what made him lonely. That it was her company he needed. He covered the moment with a sexual comment, but he thought he saw understanding in her eyes. Maybe she had felt the same way.

After they ate, drank a couple beers and chatted pleasantly, he decided he had overstayed his welcome. She was acting different around him, and he couldn't quite discern what it was. She seemed to be having a good time, but there was still something strange about her demeanor. But just as he was about to leave, she reached out for him and asked him not to go.

"I was lonely too," she said softly, with an unmistakable expression in her voice.

He couldn't help himself, not with Scully's hand still on his wrist and a come-hither look on her face. He reached out to touch her, tentatively at first, brushing that strand of red hair behind her ear. He could feel chills up his spine as she ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder. This is it, he thought. I want this to happen. She wants it to happen. Why can't it happen?

Before he talked himself out of it, he moved his hand to the back of her neck and in response she moved even closer to him. Still tentatively, he brushed his lips lightly against hers. He remembered that first kiss, on New Year's, and wanted to show her there could be more. She took the cue and kissed him back, harder this time, with a need he had never seen in her before.

He began to feel guilty. What was he doing? He knew he was dying. Was this fair to her? Or was it the fairest thing he could do? Once he was gone, would she be filled with regret that they had never been together? That they had never let themselves love one another? He knew that was a regret he would have in his final moments.

He broke away and began kissing her neck, her lips too intoxicating for him to think straight. Not that her neck was any less intoxicating. Her scent, her soft skin, his face being nestled in her hair... No, he needed to know, to give her the chance to stop this.

"Scully, we probably shouldn't be doing this," he began, still unable to stop kissing her.

He heard her sigh and agree, "I know, I know. Maybe we should stop." However, she then moved her hands up under his shirt and began caressing his chest. Not the actions of a woman who wanted to stop.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked just in case.

"Oh dear God, no," she answered, deciding for him.

He pressed his body against hers. He considered taking her right there, on the counter, on the floor, just needing her, wanting her. Of course, he was being presumptuous. He was sure she didn't intend on this going much further. That was okay too, he thought. Kissing her was wonderful, he could live with kissing; he could kiss her all night. Of course, touching her was nice too, he thought, as his fingers caressed her bare back. He found her bra strap and he slid them underneath.

"Mulder..." she began. Uh oh, had she changed her mind?

"Let's take this somewhere else," she finished.

He expected they would move to the couch, but she led him to her bedroom instead. She closed the door behind him and pushed him back onto the bed. Was this really happening? As she slowly started unbuttoning her shirt, he realized he knew the answer. He watched incredulously as she shed first her shirt and then her slacks, revealing incredibly sexy undergarments. Black and lacy: his favorite kind. He was completely awestruck as she allowed him to look at her, really look at her. Not stealing glances when she wasn't looking, not squinting in the dark when she thought he was asleep, but given permission to take in her form, admiring her curves and toned muscles. He was amazed how she could be so hard and fit, and at the same time be so soft and feminine.

Finally, he reached for her, needing more than to just look at her. Needing to touch her. Taste her, breathe in her scent. She filled all of his senses in an overwhelming way. She climbed onto his lap, her knees pressed against his hips. He was going to make love to her, finally. Seven years of foreplay, he thought. This is the woman he loves more than anything, and he'd finally gotten up the nerve to do this.

Before he could though, he needed her to know that he didn't come over here to coax her into bed. He wanted her to know that just being with her was enough, and he didn't have any expectations for this. She replied that she hadn't expected this either, but that it was perfect anyway.

With that, they continued undressing until they were both completely naked in one another's arms. This first time wasn't going to last long, he was certain. He was trying to pace himself, but honestly, how many years had it been since he'd actually had sex? With an actual woman? Not to mention that this wasn't just any woman, this was Scully, his Scully, the woman he'd been in love with for, oh, he still had no idea. He considered briefly that he should use a condom, that would make him last longer, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Now, of all times, he didn't want to remind her of her infertility. A twinge of regret filled him. He still wished he could give her a child. Never give up on a miracle, he had told her. If there is a god, no one deserves that miracle more than Scully.

Pushing away the unpleasant thoughts, instead he sought comfort and love from her body. They made love several times, spending the night in each other's arms. They dozed off and on, waking to the other's kisses and needful caresses then continued their love-making. He felt truly happy for the first time in years.

He woke up hours before she did, but he decided not to wake her. He didn't want to intrude upon her when she woke up, in case she was uncomfortable in the morning after. It took a lot of effort on his part to not wake her up when he left at 7:30, to make love to her again, not in the mask of darkness, but with the morning light shining through her window. Instead, he let her sleep. He left her a note and went home to shower and change, hoping she would agree to spend the day with him. And hopefully, he considered, another night.

He was still painfully aware that this was not going to lead to a happily ever after for them. His time was limited. But he wanted to spend it with her.

They had wasted enough time already.