This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE:

The Royal Monceau
Dining Hall
Paris, France
April 10, 1986
Thursday

"How did you find out about my hidden coffee preferences? Even Marita doesn't know how I wanted my coffee!" Mulder protested with slight indignation as Scully purposely ignored his whining by busying herself with a New York Times newspaper that she happened upon in the lobby. Mulder sighed loudly, taking a sip of the coffee she brought him, and began to quirk again when his taste buds reminded him just how good the coffee tasted … and how Scully shouldn't know about this. "C'mon Scully, you can't keep this from me. Remember, no secrets!"

Scully rolled her eyes. This was how she told him that she gave up on his no-quitting habit. "I noticed you whenever someone brought you coffee on the set. You would take a sip and grimace, and then leave the cup somewhere. There was one time Walter offered you black coffee that he accidentally put two cubes of sugar in from McDonalds and you happily devoured it. I deemed that strange since you never really took more than three sips of coffee. Four, if you don't want to offend the person who brought you coffee." She flipped the newspaper to another page, raising her eyebrow at whatever she's stumbled upon.

Wow. She NOTICED that?

His silence must've given up this statement, because Scully folded the paper and placed it on her lap, shimmying a few spaces on her seat to face him. "Are you only going to drink coffee? Or do you want to head onto the buffet table? Look what I got for myself," she perkily said, motioning at her plate. There were assortment of pastries, croissants with different fillings, bacons, a sunny side-up egg, and whole grain cereal. Mulder had to shake his head. When Scully woke him up early in the morning to announce her hunger, he didn't really think she was THIS hungry.

"Will it hurt you so much if I ask you to share your mini-buffet with me?" he tried, stretching to get a hold of one of the inviting croissants.

Scully's eyebrow raised and she playfully swatted his hand away from her food. "Give me a good reason why you can't get your own first."

"Well, for ONE," he started in a false mezzo voice, squinting his eyes, and raising his index finger up in the air. He almost knocked the very-ancient-slash-very-expensive looking vase centerpiece, making the Spunk giggle. "You did wake me up EARLY in the morning to profess your hunger. I'm not characteristically THAT hungry, my young crocodile. Well, now that you have presented me with your bountiful goodies, I do feel a slight panging in my stomach -"

"Point, Mulder? I need your point?"

He removed his finger in the air and instead settled it atop her hand. "I'm not AS hungry as you are, and I'm not as perky as you are on lining up with those tourists on the buffet table - I'm not as patient as YOU seem to be with food. And TWO, you have never fed me before, darling." He earnestly hoped that using his term of endearment would earn him some extra brownie points … Well, he needed a lot of brownie points for him to have a very unique and special Scully-feeding. In public, too.
The infamous eyebrow raised in her own reluctance … cute, yet very discouraging. "Tell me what I have for grabs after I do this feeding, Mr. Superman." She licked her lips, twitching one corner of her lip in what he hoped was meant as a seductive smile. Either that, or she was really hungry.

Fuck it all. He was going for broke.

He moved his head closer - close enough to feel the tingle of her breath against his cheek and vice- versa. "Let's say that I want us to ditch the morning plan to visit Friedrich and Janice … I could call them up and tell them that we're planning to see the Riviera … and then we'll make our own Riviera up in our room?" he proposed, his voice lower than lower and he hoped it sounded as sultry as he wanted it to be. For more brownie points, he drew closer and licked her lower lip, tasting the initial sip of her iced tea, and then prodded further until he was granted access to her depths. A moan escaped her and it vibrated through his mouth, making him smile in their kiss.

They released each other, and he caught Scully licking what was left of him around her reddened lips. "God, that had to be one of the worst pick-up lines ever made. I'm gobsmacked. But fine. You are very persuasive, you know that, don't you?"

Of course he did. He would've never met her in the first place if he wasn't. And by the way, Scully, you love those pick-up lines.

For his answer, he only opened his mouth. "Show me how much." He just couldn't help that one, even if he knew that it would earn him a dangerous Scully-look.

Nevertheless, he got what he wanted. She asked him to scoot closer to her chair, his back against the unrelenting breakfast crowd, and successfully closer to Scully. While he swirled his spoon around his dark coffee, Scully taste-tested a combination of the "Croissant et le chois de confiture Francaise," or more simply put as "Croissant with a choice of French jams." When she found a combination of jams she liked, she lifted it to his mouth. He gladly obliged.

He chewed steadily, tasting the fresh strawberry jam and non-fat butter. She's going for the basics. Not bad.

"Can you believe this bloody cow?! Fresh strawberry jam! It's been a while since I last tasted some!" she excitedly punctuated, at the same time shoving another piece of flaky croissant into his eager mouth. As he chewed, she began to tell stories of her old Welsh breakfast tradition: "I only eat jam and butter splattered on bread back in Wales. I've always thought that eating too much in the morning might affect my dancing afterwards. Jam and butter on bread, plus iced tea. That was my main course every fucking day."

"No wonder you had anemia," he remarked through his cup of coffee. Scully regarded this with a shrug.

"I still have anemia, Mulder."

"Yes, but you are improving. I haven't seen you treat a nosebleed in almost two weeks now. The last time we checked with the doctor, he said your condition is getting better – moreover." Another strawberry-swirled croissant found his mouth, almost muffling his last word. Scully smiled at him, and not resisting herself, pressed a kiss on his cheek.

"That's a big thanks to you … though I'm quite glad that we're over the liver steaks era."

He snickered. "I guess I am too. I did hate it when you asked me to taste the damn thing back in Las Vegas."

"You SHOULD'VE seen your face!" Scully giggled while adding sugar to her cereal. "I swear that you turned a bit green near the gills!"

"I DID not! It was just too damn disgusting! But I DID not turn green - does anyone even turn green? You tell me, you're the one who reads all these medical books!"

His Spunk ignored his last statement and forged on with her annoyance. "Yes YOU did. And a bit flushed that your cooking would taste just as bad!"

"Scully," he warned, waggling both eyebrows. "You know that my cooking's the best of its kind."

"Yes, I know it is." She sighed deeply, chewing on her cereal and he wanted to taste that cereal too, so he moved forward and kissed her.

This was the magic of Paris: no one cared that someone's devouring each other rather than their food in a very public breakfast dining hall. Anyway, they were the ones who invented the tongue-on-tongue technique, right? That's why it WAS called French kiss?

Oh shit, who cared? All he cared about was the way Scully's tongue swirled around his and how her cereals tasted. Hmm … pure, sheer delicacy …

"Dad?"

His eyes flew open as that familiar pitch of his name reached his ears. He found himself staring straight at Scully's open irises - equally filled with horror. With one sudden jolt, he removed his lips from Spunk and swirled around - to come face-to-face with Emily, his daughter.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

His expression of utter distress mirrored Emily's haggard appearance. Her lower lip quivered unsteadily, her hands running over and over again through her mop of curly hair. She tried opening her mouth to say something, but she couldn't. Tears began to brim her eyelids.
Mulder's heart began to pound triple time in his ears. What was Emily doing in Paris? How did she know they were in the Breakfast Hall? Why did they have to kiss in front of the whole population?

Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

He should've told his daughter about this relationship a long time ago. Damn, no, fuck it.

"Emily …" he trailed off, unable to continue with the overlapping emotions inside his gut. His daughter swallowed hard, and began to step away from their table. This alarmed Mulder for no reason at all. He stood up, almost tipping their table upside down.

"Emily, please," he tried again, but to his utter shock, Emily shook her head and began to run away from them.

Dammitt. Dammitt. Dammitt.

Mulder gritted his teeth to stop himself from shouting out his anger, disappointment, stupidity … whatever it was coiling in his heart. He had to run after her. He had to; he couldn't just leave it like this. God damn it, he couldn't …

"Mulder, we -" Scully's voice echoed behind him. He turned around to face his lover, whose eyes were already almost transparent because of her tears. "This is all my fault, I'm sorry … we should've …"

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "No, Scully, don't blame yourself please. This is my fault," he finished, sadly sagging his shoulders in utter defeat. Something made the range inside of him disappear once he heard Scully's voice. At first he wanted to thump anything that came his way, but upon seeing Scully's equally defeated posture, reason suddenly came to him. Acting irrationally wouldn't fix anything. He had to talk to Emily. His whole life depended on it.

"Scully, I have to go … I should talk to her."

"Go. I'll … I'll be in our room," she answered, and with that, he took no more moment. He just ran fast until everything that surrounded him was a big blur.

"EMILY! HONEY! STOP!" Mulder pleaded, finally catching up with her outside the hotel's main entrance. Emily was carelessly climbing down the stairs, swiping at her cheeks while the confused porter that lugged all of her bags trailed after her. In his haste to catch up with his daughter, he almost tripped the young man. Mulder didn't even bother to apologize.

He slowed his pace down to stride by her side, wanting with all his will to put a hand on her shoulder - like he would usually do whenever she had problems and she wanted his advice - but knowing that that wasn't the best move at that moment. Instead, he bowed his head down to catch her eyes. But that wasn't going to work either, because Emily was sobbing and her eyes were half-mast.

"Emily, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry … I'm so sorry if you had to find out about me and Scully this way, if you don't approve of what we have … but honey, you h- have to under- understand that she, she's everything I ever wanted … I love her and I couldn … I couldn't leave … honey, listen to me -"

"I thought my marriage wouldn't change anything between us, Dad," she accused, wrestling with her four-inched high heels down the steep steps. Upon reaching the ground, she began to crane her head for a cab, still not looking at him in the eye.

Dammitt. He was not going to allow her to leave until their problem was settled. And he's going to put his foot down on that.

"Nothing changed! Tell me, Em, what DID change?" He took a firm hold of her shoulders and brought her to him. Surprised by this, Emily didn't have time to register his move. But after blinking rapidly, her she peered at him through the slits of her eyes.

"For one, you started keeping secrets from me!"

"No … Em, I did this not because of you or her … but because of what the public might think of us! You - of all people - know about the danger of our situation … why … you - when Scully moved in with us, remember what you told me? About the rules?"

"Dad …" Emily's anger softened. And it was replaced with something he didn't expect: understanding. "Didn't you even stop to think about WHAT I THOUGHT? You don't get it do you? I knew that you're oblivious … I thought Dana told you about this before … but … she still has a few years in on you."

It was his turn to be surprised.

His hold on Emily lightened, and she shook herself out of his grip. "I always knew that there was going to be something between you two. I was hinting at it, Dad. Remember the way I told you that you 'kissed and made up?' How I wanted her at the wedding? How … oh fuck, Dad. All I wanted was that I was the first to know about this when it happened." She dug into her bag, rummaged for a while, and found what she was looking for – her handkerchief. The tears that were running down her cheek were wiped away.

Mulder stared at his daughter, dumbstruck. He couldn't feel any stupider than he probably did at that moment.

Was Emily really serious? Did she really want him to have a relationship with Scully?

Was he really THAT stupid?

"I'm your best friend, I should've known about this relationship with Dana … especially now …"

"Hon, I just didn't think you'd care … you had Jeff and the b-" he caught himself before it spilled out of his mouth. Emily's head picked up and their eyes met. The understanding that was evident in her eyes suddenly switched to sadness. Incredible sadness.

She looked away, just about time a taxi stopped in front of them. The driver peered his head out of his cab, looking hopefully at the two. Mulder immediately backed away. If Emily wanted to leave, she could. He's not going to hold her back.

He could always follow her.

"I'm sorry, man homme, but America is crap right now," she told the hopeful young guy, and the man shrugged, driving away and spotting a different customer behind them.

Immediately, Mulder sensed that something was wrong. No, shit, EVERYTHING had to be wrong back home. This little trip just wasn't just a trip for his daughter.

"Emily, what's going on? What are you doing here in Paris? Where's Jeff?"

She raised her face up to the sky, as if invoking the heavens to give her some strength, and then back to him, with a fresh batch of tears doing a sad foxtrot on her cheeks:

"Dad, Jeff and I are going to get a divorce."

He wished that everything was as simple as it seemed: Emily would take back the last reigning statement she gave him in front of the hotel and tell him, "Belated April Fools, Dad! Of course Jeff and I aren't getting a divorce!" It already seemed simple to him - he just had to be the stupid fool that he was. But no, the thunderbolt struck and it just had to be overly complicated.
Nothing had ever been damn simple in Mulder's life ever since he found himself staring straight at Mr. Fowley's shotgun twenty-two years ago.

His daughter absentmindedly sipped on her complimentary breakfast coffee, conscious of the four prodding eyes that were staring at her. After a minute, she placed the cup down, sighing deeply and tiredly.

He was also thankful that Emily invited Scully to hear about her problems, too. Mulder knew that his daughter had always trusted the Spunk - probably more than he did during the first months of their relationship. Scully, meanwhile, was relieved that she was being included. It showed Mulder how much Emily understood everything, despite his mistake.

Mulder's eyes immediately connected with Scully's after Emily took a moment to stare at her swirling coffee. His lover was obviously distraught for Emily. He was ,too. When he told himself a few weeks ago that it would be a long time since he'd be seeing the Emily he raised as his own daughter out in the open, he didn't think it would be THIS long. He wished that there was a way for him to eat his own words. He'd do anything, even if his pride had to be stomped down to the muddy ground, just to have his Emily back.

"Jeff … you know, he loves me. I know he does. But after our first trip to the marriage counselor, he wanted to … hasten things up. He wanted us to try for a son again," Emily choked out, shaking her head in tired anger. She placed a hand over her eyes and began to massage her temples. "I didn't have the energy or the emotions to try. I want children, I do … I needed to buy some time for me to accept what had happened. Jeff is a logical man … he could shed some tears and be up and running. I'm not. He couldn't fucking understand that."

A deadly thought came over Mulder. No, it couldn't be possible. "Hon, are you saying … did you ask for the divorce?"

"I can't anymore, Dad. If he couldn't wait for me, then I shouldn't wait for him, either."

A digging pain ran straight through his gut. Shit. There went Emily's dreams of a perfect and wondrous family. Shit. He should've never have promised to himself that he'd never let anything or anyone hurt his daughter. Shit.

"Why … why don't you try to work it out? Jeff loves you so much, Hon, I'm sure he could adjust … this doesn't have to end badly, you know," Mulder advised, glancing weary eyes at Scully, making sure she agreed with what he said.

"I don't want to see anymore, Dad. I'm so tired … I'm so tired of crying, of all the damn drama that I just needed to flee. I remembered you were in Paris, so I followed. I can't take it anymore in the US." Emily looked up from her coffee, casting her gaze at the couple before her. "I'm happy for you two. I wish you would've told me anytime sooner … and I should be mad, but I can't do angry anymore. I need to be happy. You … you are so lucky, Dad, Dana."

Scully nodded slowly, biting her lip and placing her fingers on her golden cross pendant. Mulder sat perfectly still, feeling his body smolder underneath this daughter's gaze.

"This is your vacation, you two. I could leave, you know -"

"No, Emily, this is fine. It'll be lovely to have you around here with us," Scully immediately prepped up, placing a warm hand on Emily's clammy ones. "You could be my company during the Bee Gees' video shoot here with me. Your father is returning to the US, and we could amuse ourselves here in Paris."

Mulder felt teary- eyed with Scully's offer. Whatever in the damn world did he do to the Big Guy for him to have a lover like this? It was as if Scully could read his mind. He needed to buy time back in the US to talk to Jeff, to straighten the kinks out.

Emily's lips twitched at the corners. "I'd love that, Dana." She nonchalantly dropped the teaspoon on the white tablecloth, her eyes bending downward as the flecks of coffee stained the white tablecloth. "I'd love to get a break from everything … I need a de-stressing kit, you know." His daughter almost chuckled at that.

He wished she didn't even start laughing at her own comment.

A break from everything.

Almost ten hours from that particular statement, he found himself drifting in and out of reality as it echoed over and over again in his head. They visited the Riviera, for real, ate at a quaint roadside café near the Eiffel Tower … well, they spent the day like any normal family would.

Ha. Now he's calling the three of them a family. Was that a joke? His own family was a poster for dysfunctional. Add a lover who's 20 years his junior, and a daughter who was a year older than that lover … man, he's breaking the record.

A break from everything.

Even the French seemed confused as the three of them trotted their way around the city. Who was the daughter? Were they twins? How come they didn't look alike? Scare bleu! He's a fucking animal!

Who was he kidding? Sure, Emily loved the idea of their relationship - and during their short sightseeing tour, she seemed genuinely delighted to sometimes catch him and Scully holding hands or occasionally hugging each other … but was that enough? Did he really want it to end like that? No, it wouldn't end like that … because his fucking neurosis wouldn't allow it to end like that. Neurosis invited Ego and Pride in and they were having a shitty party in his head.

All his father wanted for him was a normal life. He wished he could've stamped that on his forehead when he had the chance. Before his whole life of 'abnormal circumstances' blew right in front of him. Not that he didn't love Emily or Scully; Jesus, they were his life, but …

"Daddy, this isn't really necessary," Emily's voice broke him out of his nightmare-ish reverie. Mulder's head snapped up to meet his daughter's gaze from the connecting door's frame. Her whole body slackened against one side, eyeing him with curiosity. "Dana could still sleep with you … I mean … umm, I mean that you could still share this room. You could lock this door and I could knock."

"No, it's no bother, Honey," he replied too quickly, shuffling his feet against the lush red carpeting. He was seated on the bed, resting his supposedly tired ass after helping Scully move her belongings to a room on the 4th floor (that's three floors below them, thank you). He wanted a room somewhere near his own, but the hotel was full of reservations. Apparently, half of the world wanted to book a room on the 7th floor.

Scully was surprisingly okay with the whole scenario. She just shrugged with his decision and kissed him on the cheek, never even batting an eyelash.

Mulder stretched his hands over his head as Emily trudged inside his room and sat down beside him on the bed. She crossed her arms and legs simultaneously. "You know what, you haven't really told me about her."

He almost choked on that. Now wasn't really the best time to talk about HER, now that his brain was going haywire. "Wh-What about her?"

"You know, how THIS started … I can't deny that I've been wondering about it ever since you set off with her to Las Vegas-"

"No, it DIDN'T start in Las Vegas."

"- and Dana's pretty … I found it hard for you to resist her … and I've more than hinted at you how much her affection crossed the boundaries of Director-Actress –"

"Em," Mulder cut her off, a small twitching smile finding his lips and stretching his mood into sunnier planes. He hadn't seen Emily this giddy since she told him about her pregnancy, which seemed like ages ago. "Fine, so I'll tell you all the details … just let me finish, okay?"

"Okay, Dad." Emily raised an eyebrow, but brought it down before he could question it.

He sat on the bed Indian-style so that he could look at Emily straight in the eye. A rush of fatherly warmth came over his rib cage when his eyes met hers, and he realized that he missed Emily. He missed her like this, as his best friend, as his most trusted friend. He missed her smiling like the way she was smiling at that very moment, as if a big break from her life was never needed. Sadly, the truth's ugly head had to rear itself: what they were doing together was a break from her life. He wanted his Emily back so badly, he realized, as she braced herself for his story.

Pushing that thought away, he rested a finger on his chin. "I wasn't really conscious of the way we treated each other, you see. We gave each other this immeasurable amount of comfort and I couldn't define it. Until she came to me." Mulder paused, weighing the judging look on Emily's face, but forged on, nevertheless. "They were all dreams of a different Dana Scully. She was so perfect, so beautiful … so serene. I'm not going mental, Honey, but she was there. And she made me open up my feelings for her. One moment I was in the arms of my star … and the next minute, when I woke up from a nap with her … it was different. I felt different."

"So that's why you started … hating her, right?"

"I never hated her, Emily. It was … provoking sanity; denial, trying to paddle my head above the waters. Fear," he concluded, the honesty digging his gut for no reason at all. "She was so hurt. Maybe I AM as thickheaded as you say I am. I was thinking that I didn't want to hurt her but there I was, hurting her.

"Until the day that the shooting wrapped. We decided - no, fuck that, I decided that she'll move out of the house the EXACT date that the shooting ended. She was packing and everything when I realized that I didn't want her to leave—the exact same time she realized that too."

"Wow, cool." Emily laughed, and he ignored that.

"It happened slowly at first … we were standing outside the house and … she kissed me. I don't know why the hell her first, but I have to tell you, that after thinking about it again a few days afterwards … that was pretty stupid of me." Mulder snickered. "And the rest was history. She stayed and I started the first viable relationship of my whole fucking life."

"She really does love you, Dad … it was different, whenever I saw her looking at you."

"Emily," Mulder suddenly toned down, halting his daughter's giddiness. "I want to ask you something … but I hope you wouldn't take it the wrong way."

"What is it, Daddy?"

"I love Dana very much. And eventually … this'll all blow over. The public will know, our relatives will know, your Grandmother will know … and I'll ask her hand for marriage. This is all inevitable," he cleared his throat, "How do you feel about that?"

"Dad, you told me when Dana moved into our house a year ago that there were no rules in on this. And I believed that because I believe in you. I can't tell you that I'm not uncomfortable with the fact that I'll have a stepmother who's younger than me … but I also can't tell you that I'm not happy for you. I am so happy for you. I don't care what they say. As long as it all fits together … at least, something's right in my life."

Hey, look at that. Something's actually right in his daughter's life. And he's the right in her life.

Mulder reached over to caress his daughter's cheek, before kissing her on the forehead. "Thank you, Emily. I missed us so much."

"Yeah, I missed us, too. I miss just being me. Without the baby, without Jeff, without all the chaos. I just do," she answered back, making him pull her into his embrace. She probably would never realize just how sad that sounded, but for now, all Mulder wanted was to erase every damn trace of desperation and death from his daughter's veins within his embrace.

He couldn't sleep that night.

It wasn't really a matter of not having Scully beside him - well, fine, so he had rarely been sleeping alone for the past four months, and yeah, his lover's body heat was something he even dreamed about during work … or if he was given the opportunity to sky dive, her body would still be rattling his brain …

Mulder turned over to his right, glancing at the bedside alarm clock: 2:33 fucking AM. He plopped back to the bed, running his hand through his hair. Goddammitt. Did he have to start counting sheep?

He lifted his head a few centimeters from his pillow, glancing at the half-open connecting door. Emily wouldn't notice it at all. He'd slip back into his room before the crack of dawn.

A smile tumbled out of his lips. Yeah, before the crack of dawn.

Immediately, he pushed the thick covers away, sat up before his mind could rationalize on his decision, slipped his toes into the hotel-freebie slippers, grabbed the hotel-freebie cotton robe, stood up, draped it over his half-naked physique, pocketed the keys to his room, and exited quietly.

Everything was a blur as he silently padded his way towards the elevator, the stealthy silence of the lift's descent zeroing in on his ears, and finally, the much-anticipated "ping!' for the fourth floor. Mulder at once turned to Scully's room.

Once he was in front of the front door, he suddenly hesitated, turning his back against eh door.

God, Scully was going to kick his ass big time for this. It was, what? 2 AM right? She must be sleeping. She had to be. He's the only one who's neurotic in their relationship. She should be in lala land and there he was, standing right outside her door, looking like a nervous, half-naked teenager on his first date -

"Mulder?"

He jumped at the sound of his name.

After a second of calming himself down, he swirled to face his supposedly sleeping Spunk. Apparently, she was more than awake. She had an empty tray tucked under one arm, from the hotel's highly publicized twenty-four hours room service. The Spunk was clad in only a blue silky pajama top, leaving the bottoms somewhere in her closet, which raised an eyebrow of both approval and disapproval from him. Her hair was tousled, lips pale, skin like shimmering satin underneath the hotel's lowered lights. With an amused expression and a grin that she could hardly keep to herself, Scully took two steps forward. "What, pray, are you bloody doin' here?"

Find a good excuse, his mind racked while his will only slightly resisted the urge to bang his head on the opposite wall. Good excuse, good excuse. Dang. Where was that fucking good excuse of his hiding? In his anus?
Finding nothing to answer her with, he just wrinkled his brow and turned the question against her. "You're wearing practically nothing, darling, and carrying an empty tray of … well, of whatever, and YOU'RE asking me what I AM doing here?"

"I got hungry. I ordered some cakes and tea," she answered casually, while putting the tray down in front of her feet. "If you're curious enough, I answered the room service with my pajama bottoms on. It got pretty uncomfortable while drinking tea so I removed them." As she bent down to straighten the tray up, his eyes trailed on the two open top buttons of her shirt, giving him a delicious view of her cleavage.

Before he had the chance to remove his eyes from her figure, Scully had snapped her body back up, smiling wickedly at his façade. "And what about you? Are you purposely pushing my question aside, Mr. Mulder?" She bit her lip, hopping over the tray to get closer to him.

Man, she was beautiful. Her eye bags were darker than usual, but Christ, she was absolutely gorgeous.

He closed the gap between them, snaking his arms around her waist to press her body flush against him. Scully gasped at his unexpected move, tensing once their bodies met, but instantly melting into his arms once familiarity took over. His mouth found her ear and he pressed a kiss there. A sough escaped his Spunk's throat. "I was missing one of my most prized possessions beside me."

Scully nuzzled his neck, instinctively wrapping her arms around him. Her lips found his and they greeted each other for a while. She broke of the sweet kiss, but their mouths still brushed against each other. While still stealing stray grazes, she whispered, "Isn't that a bit possessive … of you, Mr. Mulder?"

"Do you even care?"

"Not tonight. Just tonight, though. Remember that." She heaved herself out of his arms, making him wince at the loss of contact. Her right hand lingered on his left arm, cascading down until their fingers clasped. "C'mon, I still have a few cakes and black coffee that we could share. They're showing Moonlighting replays - but I've seen them all, anyway."

She beckoned him into her room, both of them skipping over the tray as they entered. He locked the door behind him and stopped a few meters from the entrance to inspect his surroundings. Just as she said, there were half-bitten cakes sprawled before the TV set. A pitcher of black coffee beside a china teacup was also in the repertoire. The faces of Cybill Shepherd and Bruce Willis frolicked on the television. Scully sat down on the bed cross-legged, patting the space beside her for him.

"Why are you awake?" Mulder queried, taking a piece of unfinished strawberry doughnut from the pile and shoving it into his mouth. He sat down beside her, their elbows rubbing with each other. It was the only physical contact they had for the moment, but it gave Mulder all the comfort he needed.

Scully's eyes were trailing from him and back at the Bruce Willis feast adjacent them. "I don't know, really-" she started off uncertainly, and something grabbed Mulder by the neck. He swallowed the piece of doughnut that he bit nervously, feeling whatever that grabbed him tighten around his air passage.

"Scully, did … did you have a nightmare?"

Her face hardened, but she didn't give him an answer.

Jesus, it had been so long since the last nightmare. She fidgeted in her sleep sometimes, but she never was awakened to the point of pure frenzy and tears. He couldn't even count the months anymore since her last one.
She removed her attention from the television and faced him. Her eyes were darkened by the lack of shadows in the room. For a frightening moment, he was returned to that evening he had buried deep into his memory … that evening she drifted in and out of herself, the evening when she didn't recognize him, the evening that she mistook him for someone else.

Scully must've noticed the change in his mood, and before he even could dispute it, the Spunk reached for the remote control and turned the TV off. She tossed the damn thing on the bedside table and left his side.

She dimmed the overhead lights, afterwards opening the still-untouched covers of the bed. Scully then tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and motioned to him. "Get in."

Mulder didn't even think of questioning this move of hers. All he did was to stand up, remove his robe, slogged his way towards her, and followed her request.

After he was on the bed, Scully walked to the other side of the king-sized mattress and also climbed in to lie down beside him. She sat up before he could embrace her, propped her back with pillows to elevate herself, and finally opened her arms to him. "Come here," she whispered.

He slid himself to close the boundary between them, and was instantly rewarded by Scully's arms drawing him closer to her body. He rested his head on top of her breast, while his hand snaked around her waist to push her closer to him. She pressed her cheek on the top of his head, and then kissed his forehead.

Abruptly, nothing else existed in the world except for the both of them. Mulder buried his face into her chest, wanting nothing but to lose himself in her warmth. The amount of comfort and stability she presented to him, she made him feel, she gave to him … it was as if she grabbed the spinning top underneath him before it could make him dizzy.

There were many moments he expected himself to feel this way, and most of them was after-sex-cuddling or during drastic moments, but never like this. Just serenity surrounding them, stemming from nowhere … and Mulder knew that he needed this. This was the reason why he couldn't sleep at all. She was what he needed.

"No, Mulder, I didn't get a nightmare. But I believe you had one," she said against his skin, lightly stroking his arm.

No, Scully, his mind droned on. I still am having one.

His heart began to break. For no reason at all, he felt raw and vulnerable. All his frigging walls had tumbled down and here he was, at his weakest. If a fire broke out in the hotel, he'd be too limp to move and the flames would have to consume him. He was exhausted - physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically. From everything.

A break from everything.

"What's happening to my life, Scully? Why is this fucking thing happening to me?" Mulder sobbed out, his hands turning clammy. "Who am I kidding? I promised Emily that I would never let anyone or anything hurt her… but I was stupid! I wanted the best for her and here she is, telling me she's getting a divorce. After her baby's death. And I can't do anything about it. I hate this situation. I'm not worthy to be her father."

"Mulder, don't say that," Scully interjected, her ministrations on his arms stopping. "You have given Emily everything you could and she grew up to be a fine woman. You did your very best."

"But it just wasn't enough, God dammitt, it was never enough."

She took a deep breath, as if wanting to say something else, but decided against it. All she did was to coax him to tell her more through her touch.

"You know what she told me? Emily said that she was disappointed when the divorce happened. She made me believe that she was fine with it … but in reality, it KILLED her. What was I thinking? I should've known; I'm her best friend. All my daughter wanted was a perfect family - something that could muster up to her friends' families. That was all she wanted. I treated her like a little adult because she was smart and reasonable, never even regarding the little child inside of her. And that little child's heart I broke." Mulder began to feel the warmth of his tears on Scully's shirt. "Now she's getting her own divorce. Where have I been? I love Emily so much, Scully … she's a perfect little lady and she should have all the blessings in life. I am so lucky to have her and I can't even repay that luck." Now his sobbing was uncontrollable. He pressed his face hard onto her chest.

Scully dropped her hand down to his back to rub his worries away. She allowed him to cry for a few minutes, his anguish echoing around the room painstakingly, and she only allowed herself to listen to his sorrow.

Maybe eons passed, centuries … he couldn't count, because his heart was now pieces of dried blood on the floor. He couldn't stop himself from pouring everything out to her.

"You expected too much from yourself, Mulder," Scully started, squeezing his arm reassuringly. "You were a child yourself when Emily was born. But the fact that you took care of her, loved her beyond reason, you-you would die for her if you were given the choice … that in itself was more than your best, Mulder. You forced yourself to grow up for her. You stayed in a loveless relationship for her … out of a hundred percent, you gave her two hundred. Emily was given to you for a reason… and that reason must be because she deserves all your love. And your love is so beautiful, Mulder. I haven't … I haven't seen anyone love their daughter as much as you d-do." She lifted his hand from her waist and kissed his palm lovingly. "Stop blaming yourself. You should be proud of the fact that Emily is a wonderful young woman today: that she could move on from tragedies and that she could think for herself …. and that she loves you as much as you love her."

Emily loved him as much as he loved her.

Scully's right. He should stop blaming himself, he should stop letting the pieces of his heart fall down on the floor. In contrary, he should help Emily pick up the pieces of her own heart and life from the tiles.

Mulder lifted his head and prepped his chin on her chest. She smiled at him, her blue eyes watery but perfectly transparent. Her hand clutched the side of his head and she wiped his tears away with her thumb.

He captured her hand with his own, and kissed her palm - just as she did a while ago. "Can you tell me again who's forty and who's twenty-one?"

Scully's smile broke into a giggle. He also couldn't help smiling as their lips met for a chaste kiss.

"What will I do without you, Scully? Where would I be if we haven't met?" he wondered aloud, eyes directly trapped by her own.

She sighed, brushing a lock of chocolate brown hair away from his forehead. "Those kinds of questions are not meant to be answered, Mulder."

He wouldn't want to know the answer though, he realized. He wouldn't want to know who he should've been, where he should've been, with who he should've been.

All he ever unconsciously wanted before was now right here, with him. And he vowed then on, as he was starting to fall asleep on Scully's breast while her soft fingers soothed his hair, that he would never ever find out. He'd never ever let her go. Ever.

His Mom told Mulder before that the morning always brought with it a silver lining. If ever a day went by hand-in-hand with disaster, there's always tomorrow to look forward to. Before you went to sleep that evening, you should go on and congratulate yourself for living through the disaster, and sleep for tomorrow's silver lining. Things should get better. You had nowhere else to go from bottom; same as you had nowhere else to go from top.
This was her advice for him when his Father died. He was just too angry at everything around: at his sister and even at his Mother … so Teena talked him down with a bottle of bourbon and pacified him after Emily had slept. There's always going to be tomorrow. Sometimes, tomorrow's all you need.

When Mulder woke up the following day still encased within Scully's warmth, something struck him at once: this was his silver lining from yesterday. She was, simply, everything to him. This is it, he thought, his heart pounding in his chest, she's it.

Then, when he picked his head up from her shoulder and gazed at his lover's sleeping form, he had all the aphrodisiac he needed for that morning. He SURE loved Paris.

Mulder pressed a kiss on Scully's neck, below her earlobe (one of her more sensitive spots) and watched in fascination as her nipples pushed through her silky nightgown in response.
He wouldn't mention it to her afterwards, but he was pretty damn sure that Scully was dreaming of him that same moment … probably having a very sexually-charged dream, judging from her reactions. He only hoped that what he planned on doing to her was WAY more interesting than her subconscious.

His lips lapped on her clavicle, which elicited a listless moan from her parted lips. Encouraged, Mulder momentarily disconnected his lips from her skin to sit up and kneel down on the bed. He wanted to love her like she had never been loved before in her life this morning. He wanted her to wake up in the middle of a mind-shattering orgasm and then kiss him ferociously, tasting her fresh essence from his own lips.

Slowly, so that it wouldn't rattle her out of her dream, Mulder began to unbutton her top. He slid each little pearl out of its hole, inch-by-inch bearing the Spunk's nakedness underneath. When he reached the last button, he lifted his hands to allow the fabric to slide down to gravity, bearing pale white flesh, pink aroused peaks of her breasts, and a painstakingly flat stomach.

Mulder licked his lips in anticipation, wanting nothing more but to taste her skin, but knowing that in doing so he'd risk waking her up. And he didn't want that.

He lifted a finger in the air before bringing it down Scully's chest. He fluttered it in between her bosoms, rib cage, dipping it lightly on her navel, and stopping at the garters of her underwear. Goosebumps followed his touch, making Scully bite her lip. The air conditioning unit's cool air swayed through their forms and the smell of his lover's arousal flowed through Mulder's nose, making his groin tighten more in anticipation.

Christ, if he was an asshole, he would've ripped off her panties, straddled her, and began pounding into his beautiful woman without any inhibitions.

He was an asshole, yeah, but he was an asshole who loved this woman way too fucking much. And being THAT asshole - he knew he could make the Junior wait.

Bending down, his lips gingerly clamped down on a nipple. In response, Scully's torso raised from the bed, seeking more contact with his mouth. He smiled and allowed his tongue to join in with his mouth. Soon, he was sucking at her flesh while his other hand worked at the other breast, loving the way Scully melted underneath him. He hoped this was one hell of a dream.

Then she began to say something that almost undid his concentration: "Oh … G … Mul … Mulder …."

He closed his eyes to stop the wave of arousal that struck his spine. He had never heard his name in that tone, that way, ever from her. It was in such bliss, arousal,… and everything else.

Sooner or later, she'd kill him with this.

There was no more time before she woke up, though, so he only allowed himself to place an open mouthed kiss on her other breast and began to trail his tongue down her front. He felt for her bones, wincing slightly when he knew that they protruded too much because of her thinness, dipped his tongue in her navel (which created another hybrid groan of his name), and finally, her sex. Mulder moved himself around so that he could face one of his favorite Scully parts, and when he was finally right in front of her, the smell of her made his erection incredibly painful. He took a moment to loosen his drawstrings before pressing a kiss on her panties.

"Mulde … Mulder … please please please please…"

Ah, the please chant. She did that lately whenever they made love. But rather than motivating him to give her what she wanted, it only made him want to torture her even more.

He fumbled with her underwear for a while, trying to remove them as gently as possible, but finding no way to do so unless he ripped off one side of it. So that's what he did. He could always buy Scully a whole stock back in Los Angeles.

Maybe feeling his actions in her dream, Scully's legs parted in their own accord. Mulder's smile got wider as he appreciated this with a kiss on her auburn curls, before wasting no time and slipping his tongue inside her folds.

Scully's hips ejected from the bed, pushing roughly into his face, his tongue digging deeper inside of her. Mulder clutched at her hips, perching them down, watching as her fingers found the blankets surrounding her body. He needed her to relax, to feel this in her dream … as he needed to slow things down, or else HE would lose control.

She whimpered in her sleep as Mulder began to move his tongue around inside her. He licked at the sides of her organ - welcoming the heat of her own wetness as they came to his mouth, drinking them in, making them his own. He traced the roof of her, making her gasp, until he reached her clit. Then it was a different story.

Scully's eyes flew open and they widened when she saw what he was doing. "Mulder … what … oh god … what …" Coherent speech wasn't hers that moment.

He bit at her engorged bundle of nerves, and Scully's head landed dead on her pillows, her teeth finding her lips once again to bite off an escalating scream. Once he began to suck at her clit, as he did on her breasts - only more forcefully this time. Scully's breathing began to quicken. Her hips buckled once, which signaled to him her incoming orgasm. Inserting a finger inside her canal, he forged on a rhythm of pure ecstasy … and before he knew it, Scully's inner muscles clamped down on that finger and she was shouting his name until her throat probably ached.

He stayed with her as she climbed up, until she calmed down … his teeth still on her clit, his finger still inside of her, riding with her as the tremors died down.

When she came around, Scully boosted her head up to face his mischievous appearance. "Come up here you fucking bastard!"

Mulder kept his smile as he kneeled up, licking his lips to finish off her taste. He didn't find that enough to quench his appetite of her, so he ran his tongue over the traces of her on his finger. He allowed her to watch him do this - watch how much he hungered for her, watch how her watching him affected him.

Scully sat up, took him by the shoulders, and pulled him to her. He landed squarely on top of her, digging his elbows on the spaces beside her body to position himself. Mulder raised an eyebrow at Scully's darkening pools of blue.

"Jesus, you are a bloody fucking bastard."

And his wish came true: Scully kissed him on the lips. Her mouth opened, allowing him his tongue to duel with her own. This duel only lasted a few short moments because Scully began to take over their kiss. Her lips closed in on his tongue and she began to drink his mouth dry of her fluids. Mulder moaned painfully, feeling the bulge in his pants constrict again.

They released, both panting for air. She stole another kiss on his nose before saying, "You are SO dead, Mr. Fox Mulder." She was still light- headed from their kiss, so she slurred that a bit, making the British accent swim in with the threat.

"I'm counting on that, darling," he responded, reaching one hand up to grab her breast. Scully gasped in surprise, their eyes meeting and pulling at each other.

Knocks on the door made both of them freeze in their positions. Now it was Scully's turn to raise an eyebrow in complete annoyance.

"DANA? THIS IS EMILY. ARE YOU AWAKE?"

No more words were needed to be said. Mulder sighed exasperatedly, pressed a kiss on Scully's forehead, and removed himself off her. Scully followed his drill. She buttoned her shirt first before standing up and hunting for her pajama bottoms.

"Yes, I'm awake Emily. Give me a minute, okay?"

"OKAY," came his daughter's reply.

Mulder looked forlornly down at his fast-deflating erection in despair. Scully caught this and moved over to where he was standing.

"We still have many more nights to take care of that … nights, mornings, AND afternoons. Go inside for a shower while I talk to Emily." She kissed him the lips briefly before ushering him into the bathroom. Mulder began to protest, but she silenced him with a swat on his bottom. "Go on. You need to brush your teeth," she wickedly stated, earning her a glare from him. As if she didn't need one, too.

As he was closing the door to the bathroom, he caught Scully taking in one of his after-meal mints, spraying herself with the cucumber cologne he gave her, and hopping into her pajamas. When she had her hand on the doorknob, Mulder closed the bathroom door shut.

He listened for a while in on their conversation with his ear on the wood, not wanting to miss out on that.

Emily's footsteps echoed in the room. "Good morning, Dana. Dad slept here last night, didn't he?"

Hmm. Straight- forward. His daughter certainly didn't inherit that one from him.

"Yes. He's in the bathroom right now, washing up. What's going on?" Scully asked.

"I think it'll be better that we wait for him. It's pretty important."

Once he heard that, Mulder stopped eavesdropping and started on washing up. He combed his hair, brushed his teeth, washed his face, made sure that Junior was in sleepy-bye-bye-land, and bounded out of the bath.

"Good morning, Honey. What's going on?" he greeted cheerfully, earning him a puzzled look from Scully. Emily didn't seem to mind or she totally ignored it, because she just kept on sipping at her lukewarm black coffee.

"Uncle Walter called early in the morning. He said it was important," Emily responded through her coffee. Mulder nodded, taking his spot on the bed - a few inches from his daughter.

"What did Walter want?"

"You, for starters," she gave him a lopsided grin that, for some weird reason and feeling, reminded him of his own lopsided grins. "He had no choice but to ring me. He said no one was answering in your room. I told him that you were in the bathroom." She raised her eyebrow towards Scully. "Apparently, I was right."

Scully blushed and he smiled nervously.

Fantastic. This was just getting better and better. Where was that silver lining when he needed it again?

"Thank you, Honey." Mulder went up on his feet and kissed the top of Emily's head. "Excuse me, I have to make a phone call." It sounded damn formal that he wanted to smack himself on the head for it.

He moved a few meters towards his lover for a kiss, but her obviously anxious façade did him in. Moving back, he inspected Emily and noticed that his daughter was oblivious to the fact that the lovers were acting as if they were caught by their parents in a particularly interesting rendezvous. She probably inherited that fucking obliviousness from him. Hah.

Mulder exited the room and took a lungful breath. After that, he began to move to the elevator. Within a passing minute, he found himself inside his room. He was so lost inside his thoughts that he didn't notice where he was absent-mindedly headed. He didn't waste any more minutes as he proceeded to dial Walter's number from memory.

"Hello?" a very familiar gruffness greeted his reeling senses. Mulder sighed first before answering back.

"Hey Walter, it's me. What's going on?"

"What's going on?" Walter receded. For some reason, the Director didn't like the tone of his Producer's voice. There was some sort of hostility topping the edges. "Where did you head off to in the middle of the night?"

"I was …" He caught himself before his barely registering brain could spill out his REAL whereabouts. He was really out of it this morning; after all it's twists and turns. It wasn't doing his psyche any good at all. "… Downstairs, in the lobby. Trying out their complimentary brewed coffee." There, not bad at all. He then again tried to find out what was up, by rephrasing his question: "What do you need from me?"

"We need YOU to come here ASAP. Movie's almost finished. We edited the scenes just as you wanted it … only we need your opinion on this before we finalize it. And something else is … kind of waiting for you when you come home. Something important."

He hated suspense. If there was something that Mr. Fox Mulder couldn't take, it was suspense. It's part of the reason why he never had the tendency to quit. It's because he couldn't wait around for his future when he knew that he could do something about it.

"What is it, Walter? I don't like the tone of your voice."

"I think you better come home and see for yourself. Have a nice trip." His friend hit the plunger before he could even ask again. Walter knew him well enough to know that if the conversation wasn't ended anytime soon, he'd be begging him to tell him what was up in Los Angeles.

In defeat, Mulder placed the phone back to its cradle and rolled his eyes. Not that it mattered, anyway. Disaster followed him like a hawk - whether it's at home or in Paris.

Disaster was also probably waiting for him back at home.

END OF CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

A/N: Thank you for all the love and R&Rs! Keep 'em coming as the holidays are shaking!

As for the comment about Spunk being written years ago – yes, that's true. This was originally posted in the yahoogroups called ALL-XF and was then archived in a lot of TXF fanfic sites. However, Iwas not able to finish BOOK II and the previous ten chapters have been unpublished. I just let them sit in my hard drives (at least four of them) for fifteen years. Now, the following chapters AFTER this one are all newly written and have never been published before. I was on a furious writing spree this past summer and I was able to write ten additional new chapters of Spunk. Actually, just two more and the story's done. I always write in advance so that I could edit, edit, edit.

What I'm saying is, go ahead and go crazy about the next couple of chapters. Because for sure, and you have my 100% guarantee, that it will be so damn crazy you might just pull your hair out! *wink, wink*