It’s hard to move forward when demons from the past keep haunting…
August 14, 1999
Kroner, Kansas
The metallic reflecting ball spun twinkling starlights around the room above them as the music continued its swing down memory lane. Dana Scully felt a brief twinge of nostalgia as she looked up from her plate of food and observed her partner at the buffet table, refilling their punch glasses. For a moment, high school didn't seem like such a distant memory after all. Of course, the idea of her being on the arms of someone tall, dark and handsome at the time was a bit of a stretch, but how could a girl complain about living that one out in real life? Mulder was certainly no slouch in that category, as had been made clear during this unusual case. No, strange case was a much better descriptor. With even stranger people. Nowhere had she ever encountered a bunch who were so intrigued with her and her partner as a potential couple. Surely they were nowhere near that obvious?
"What's so funny, Scully?" He handed her a plastic glass filled with the requisite red liquid. "Nothing, why?"
"Well, not like I'd ever object to seeing your face light up in that special way that you have, but you're grinning like you have some big secret that you can't wait to share."
"I am not. I was just thinking, though — isn't this all rather timely for you? It's been twenty years since your high school graduation, hasn't it?"
He made a face, his features scrunching up in an appealing sort of way. "Yeah, but don't remind me. It's weird to think that it's been twenty years since anything in my life, if you know what I mean." He stabbed at the remainder of his potato salad with his fork and then looked up at her again as another thought quickly followed. "Do you ever wonder when you stopped being a kid, Scully? Does it feel different?"
"Are you asking because you don't know?" An amused look crossed her face as she tried to imagine Mulder as a kid.
"Maybe. I don't think I feel different. I don't know what this says about me, but in many ways, I feel the same as I did at seventeen..." He shrugged, the gesture almost bashful. "I think that's on the acceptable side of normal, Mulder," she replied softly, answering his need for reassurance.
"Really? Do you ever feel that way?"
"Sometimes, I guess. I certainly understand what you mean, in any case. Look at what we've witnessed in the past couple of days...behavior that's certainly reminiscent of teenagers, don't you think?" She cocked her head towards the newly matched couple on the dance floor.
"Well, Scully, you and I both know that matters of the heart are not always easily handled in a grown-up fashion." His eyes scoped out the dance floor momentarily before settling on her face in a prolonged gaze. Probably not unlike the ones that Holman Hardt had accused him of sending her way.
With nothing to add to his astute comment, Scully instead concentrated on returning his gaze measure for measure.
And the lights continued to spin above their heads.
* * * * *
"So Mulder, when can we blow this hick town?"
Scully tossed the room key on top of the dresser and plopped herself down in the chair by the window. They had finally managed to say their goodbyes and convince their gracious hosts that they had eaten their fill and were just wanting to get some rest. Good thing. She wasn't sure if she could have listened to any more of Sheila's stories. The woman had begun to grate on her nerves.
She reached over and cranked up the air conditioning as far as it would go. She had felt uncomfortably stuffy all night long. Now that all was seemingly well with Holman, the rain had dissipated and all that remained was a humid stickiness that promised heat for tomorrow. With any luck, however, they could be on their way out of Kroner by early morning and perhaps be back home in time for Sunday night supper.
Following her into what had become their room, Mulder closed the door behind him and looked apologetically at her. He removed his jacket and tossed it onto the bed. "The best I could do was ten-thirty. I know that's not soon enough for you and it might take us the better part of the day to fly back to D.C., but...I'll make it up to you, Scully."
"How?" She was only half faking the disappointment in her voice. But before she could focus on being sulky, she felt herself being hauled to her feet as Mulder grabbed her hand and yanked her from her chair. "What are you doing?"
"What I wanted to do all night...dance." He immediately clasped hands with her and encircled her waist with his other arm, assuming the position as though he had done this many times in his dreams.
"Mulder, there's no music."
"In my head there is."
"Care to share it with me?"
To her amazement, Mulder leaned in close to her and began singing into her ear. "And thanks for the times that you've given me, the memories are all in my mind..."
"The Commodores, Mulder?"
"You're very good, Scully."
"Well, I only heard it playing not an hour ago..."
"I wanted to show everyone there just who was three times a lady, but we were on the job, technically speaking. Now that we're officially off duty —”
“— This isn't part of the 'making it up to me', is it?"
"Maybe. Tell me what you and Sheila talked about when you went off after her?" "That was girl talk, Mulder. We don't repeat that to anyone."
"Yeah right, and that's why women don't gossip. Give it up or I'll crush you in my arms." As if to prove that he was capable — and not that Scully had any doubts — he tightened his hold on her until she was feeling way too much of his heat. She started squirming to get loose but decided against it when it appeared that she was making matters worse in a slightly embarrassing way. Or at least, it should have been embarrassing. Apparently he wasn't taking it that way tonight. Mulder leaned his head back to catch her eye explicitly and grinned wickedly at her before declaring, "That feels good, Scully."
"Mulder...you're getting too close for comfort here." She tried once more to put some distance between themselves, succeeding only in pulling her top half away from his. He tucked their joined hands to his chest, holding her in yet closer by the waist.
"Really? Then stop struggling and tell me what you and Sheila talked about."
"You, okay? We talked about you."
He surprised her by relaxing his hold immediately, releasing her from the warmth of his body. She let out an involuntary noise that sounded like a cross between a whimper and a sigh; scarcely audible, really. Mulder peered down into her face but received no further reaction to either confirm or deny what he thought he had heard. He decided to leave it alone, saying instead, "I gathered as much. What about me?"
"That you're a good kisser, apparently. So she says."
"How would she know? I didn't exactly kiss her."
"Well, from where I was standing, it looked like you were involved." The memory of that rather ridiculous moment brought a smirk to Scully's face.
"Scully —”
"— I'm just kidding, Mulder. You should have seen your face." Her smile broadened as she further recalled the strangely arousing image of that lipstick smudged mouth. "Really, you should have."
He chose not to relive that somewhat embarrassing moment, going instead for the interesting possibilities offered by its aftermath. "So Scully, what did you have to say about that particular opinion? About my being a good kisser, that is."
"I assured her I had no empirical evidence to support her claim," Agent Scully remarked in her most scientifically unbiased professorial voice. She tilted her head back and looked up into his face, catching a new and oddly unsettling combination of amusement and desire in his eyes. She had a casual thought about looking down to see if he had recovered yet, but he held her gaze firmly.
Scully was surprised when she heard the next words spoken between them.
"Why is that?"
She was surprised mainly because the words apparently came from her mouth. It also occurred to her that they had stopped swaying to his imaginary music, although they were still positioned in one another's arms. They stared openly as the seconds ticked by.
"You sure you want to go there, Scully?"
She wondered if he knew what he was capable of doing to her with that voice of his. Something entirely sinful had somehow managed to wrap itself around its normal gravely edge, making her knees go weak. Good thing they were standing still.
"Why not?"
Again, the words came from her mouth. And once more, they surprised the owner of that mouth. From what she could figure, they had also surprised Mulder. Dana Scully felt like a fly on the wall, removed from herself, watching the sudden and strange drama unfold. How far would this go? "Because you're in charge. Because you're calling the shots. And if you say go, we go." It was a gentle reminder, full of support for whatever she might decide, but also loaded with warnings that he wouldn't be the one to stop them if she chose to go for it.
She stood and blinked at him for a few seconds, then disengaged her hands and arms from his and backed away. He watched with interest as she found the foot of the bed and sat down heavily.
"It was the weirdest thing, Mulder, listening to her talk about you like that. And then I heard myself describing our situation to her without actually identifying us. I mean, our private lives are no one's business. Even if there was a truth to tell, I would be stupid to tell it. So it wouldn't have changed what I said to her. But for the first time, I really thought about why we...haven't..."
"Kissed?"
"Yeah. I mean, beyond...." She was embarrassed, no denying that. But she was being truthful about her feelings — as she had recently promised to him — and that was typically a painful exercise for Dana Scully.
"Beyond kissed?" He was having fun with her. "That's easily fixed, you know."
"It's been almost a year." It was a statement essentially made to herself. As though she were trying to convince herself that it was time to take this huge step forward.
He sat down beside her. "I know. Long time to wait for a kiss. I mean, I know I'm good, Scully, but it may not be worth a whole year's buildup." She chuckled at his self-deprecating humor.
"Well, I must confess, I'm getting just a bit tired of seeing everyone else kiss you. That, and of course, the desire to check out Sheila's claim. You know, more empirical evidence for the case file." A little bit of humor might just go a long way in helping matters, Scully thought as she forced herself to look directly into Mulder's face. She marveled inwardly at how odd she felt, how totally unlike herself.
"I like that. Nothing like making it official FBI business. So what's stopping you?"
As it turned out, the question itself stopped her in her tracks. She was suddenly back in her apartment, on her couch, with "Mulder's" face moving towards hers. The peculiar expression on her own face at the moment, however, puzzled the real thing who was sitting beside her.
"Something wrong?"
"No, nothing. It's — it's just that that was what Eddie Van Blundht basically said before he...well, before you broke down my door."
"Ah. So Eddie and I have something in common after all." He took a moment to search her eyes, looking for any minute sign that she wasn't wanting what he thought she wanted. He couldn't find anything that remotely said no, and knowing her tendencies, decided that he didn't need to wait for a spoken invitation. Or for her to make the first move. "I think we might have some important differences though..."
Mulder leaned in towards her slowly, draping his left arm over her shoulder. His other hand groped for her forearm. He pulled her gently towards him until their lips met in that exquisitely sweet touch that they had allowed themselves the pleasure of enjoying only a few times before. Upon contact, he began to explore new territory by gently increasing the pressure, bringing his hand up to the back of her head. Her mouth soft and pliable beneath his, he parted his lips deliberately and deepened the kiss. Not resisting in the least, she soon opened her own mouth to his, capturing his lips between hers. Mulder responded by rolling his tongue in a slow and sensual caress of her teeth. The long-absent but instantly recognizable sensation of blood rushing in his ears began to weave its familiar torture. If this was going to stop at just a kiss, he had to work fast. Tentatively, his tongue sought out hers, barely touching at first, then both quickly descended into a passionate mimic of their earlier dance movements. He exhaled a low groan into her mouth when she grasped the back of his neck and pressed herself closer to him.
It was a hungry exploration unfettered by the relative lack of spontaneity. Scully would never have thought that their first real kiss would come as a result of actually discussing it beforehand. But as she continued to give as good as she got, she now knew that spontaneity was not a requirement for fireworks between the two of them. The dizzying electricity that they were generating was overpowering and proof enough for her. The hot taste of his mouth on hers, going far, far beyond a feathery, chaste touch for the first time, melted her insides and was starting to impair her ability to think straight. God, how long had it really been since someone had done this to her? She felt heat emanating from parts of her body that she was not normally even aware of, creating a strangely intoxicating sensation. Soaring temperatures notwithstanding, however, she knew from the sounds that they were both making that someone had to call a halt to this activity soon. And she was still in charge.
"Mmm...Mulder." More surprise. Her breathy utterance of his name was in response to his sudden break with her.
Mulder dropped himself backwards onto the bed, chest heaving slightly under his shirt and tie. He took in her somewhat glazed expression, amused and gratified by the fact that Dana Scully's present breathing pattern consisted of a series of little pants that didn't seem to be supplying her with enough oxygen.
"You're gonna be the death of me tonight, woman, but yes, you are still in charge," he responded to her unvoiced question. At her continued silence, he assured her lightly, "No obligation to buy, Scully, that was just a sample for the benefit of your evidence gathering. You can put it in your report...be descriptive, I'm sure it'll give Skinner a thrill."
At that, Mulder rolled himself off the bed and headed for the bathroom, leaving Scully still sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at his retreating form. At the sound of the shower being turned on, her brain cells seemed to awaken again. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. Empirical evidence was always good. Especially the kind that stood well on its own, without requiring further analysis. And she didn't need to do any further analysis to know that Sheila — despite her obviously "inferior" sample — was right.
* * * * *
When she later emerged from her turn in the bathroom, Mulder was sitting up in bed, on top of the covers, dressed in the same t-shirt and sweat pants that he had worn to bed yesterday. He had apologized to her last night for not bringing any pajamas, but he simply had not anticipated a need to bunk together. Scully, on the other hand, was just plain thankful that she had packed a sensible pair for herself.
As usual, he was in control of the channel changer. At her approach, he gave her a quick onceover and then paused at a particularly steamy scene courtesy of their free movie service. Scully carefully folded back the sheets on her side and slid underneath them, trying not to pay attention to the sights and sounds coming from the TV. When it seemed to her like he had lingered long enough, she turned her head very slowly and deliberately towards him and gave him a look. Her eyes fell to his mouth as she felt a momentary tingle course through her body at the memory of their kiss. He returned a teasing grin, making her at once all hot and cold and not at all looking forward to what he had up his sleeve.
"So Scully, where do you imagine we'll end up doing it for the first time?"
She had anticipated — expected, even — some smartass remark to follow that brief spell of shared voyeurism, but this was not it. "Excuse me?"
"Come on, I know you've thought about it." He hiked his body around, leaning on his right side, allowing himself to look straight at her profile. His conversational manner of speaking and casual interest made it seem as though he were asking her how she chose her shoes in the morning.
"Good God, Mulder, we don't have to share every intimate thought that we have, you know." "Us? Never. You're not ready for that. I'm just curious about this one."
"Why?" She supposed herself lucky that he hadn't asked what her preferred position was.
"I dunno. Maybe because now that we've cleared another hurdle, we might want to think about the rest. Or maybe I just want to know how far off my fantasy might be."
His fantasy? Scully groaned inwardly. "Okay, so tell me and I'll let you know if you're close." "That's no fair. Or fun."
Silence.
"Okay. You know that storage room two doors down from our office?"
"You have us doing it at the Hoover Building?" Actually, Scully had to admit — to herself, anyway — that the office thing was always a bit of a thrill to think about. Such thoughts had kept her awake through more than one dull meeting over the years.
"Well, no, I know we wouldn't — too many eyes and ears — but it's just a thought I've always had."
"'Always had'?" Maybe this could get interesting, if she could only turn it around. "For a long time," he said, shrugging one shoulder in an offhand manner, like it was no big deal and no big secret. "But obviously I'm not even close, so you may as well tell me yours."
Their eyes locked for a long moment during which Dana Scully wished she were somewhere else. She wondered if she looked as overheated as she felt. The subject of this seeming inevitability between them had never really been discussed, which was not a surprise. Normal people didn't talk about it, did they? Wouldn't it just happen? Somehow she had expected that, in this area at least, perhaps some semblance of normality might actually take over in their relationship. That they — like almost everyone else in the world — might just someday do what came naturally.
Lately, however, Mulder was really pushing the envelope when it came to this sharing business. To his credit, it was undoubtedly a result of her promise to him that she would try to be more open. Not that there hadn't been many times when she wondered why she had uttered such a thing. It seemed like the thing to say, however, after they had spent the night together a few months ago. Nothing had happened outside of actual sleeping, of course, which was the original intent. She had been feeling particularly alone and vulnerable and — having been encouraged by Mulder to specify her wants and needs — decided that she wanted to spend a night in his arms. The next morning, she had promised him that she would try to be more forthcoming about her feelings. Since then, he had been engaging her in this on-going game.
As she continued to stare at him, however, an understanding suddenly dawned on her, jogging her memory as to what this might be about. Once upon a time, he used to ask her all sorts of outrageous questions. Then it stopped.
"Okay, Scully, let me have this at least... you have thought about it, right?"
Being able to read that tiny subtle change in his demeanor — virtually unrecognizable to anyone else on the planet — had always been Dana Scully's downfall. As soon as it registered with her, she couldn't refuse him anything.
"Yes, of course." She had to remind herself to keep her head up, although she was now mostly focused on the TV rather than on his face. Not that that made it any easier, considering what it was that she was watching. "It wouldn't be at my place, or yours..." Seeing his raised eyebrow out of the corner of her eye, she elaborated, "...too many eyes and ears."
"On the road somewhere?"
"No," she said quickly, before either of them could look around the room.
"Not my place, not yours, not here. Where does that leave?"
"Somewhere else, of course. Not like it's FBI business. Some place where we might have a mountain view, with a blue-green lake, at a nice resort or fancy hotel."
If she was expecting further innuendo or remarks, they weren't forthcoming. Mulder merely smiled in appreciation of having been told, adding softly, "That's a nice thought, Scully. You should make sure that's how it happens."
His eyes lingered on her face for a moment before he turned his attention back to the TV and began flipping channels again. He seemed satisfied that Scully had finally understood.
* * * * *
Dana Scully opened her eyes and looked around in the darkness. The clock was on Mulder's side, so she couldn't tell what time it was without partially getting up. Something had awakened her, however, and her first guess had been that her partner wasn't sleeping well. He appeared to be dead to the world, however, and it looked like he hadn't moved in awhile. But the room was quite chilly now as the air conditioner continued to hum away noisily, sending frigid blasts of dry air across their heads. Maybe that was why she woke up — it was too cold. She decided that she would have to make her way over to the window to turn up the thermostat.
She sat up and waited for a few more moments as her eyes adjusted to the light, or rather, the lack of light. Luckily, the curtains did not fully overlap, allowing a very narrow slit of moonlight to pass over the foot of the bed. She carefully made her way to the air conditioner and turned it off. The silence that followed was highlighted by Mulder's steady breathing, providing her with a comforting sense of security.
She stepped back and was preparing to get back into bed when she felt a liquid warmth sliding onto her lips. Good grief, it was so cold that her nose was running. She headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind her so that she could turn on the light. Before she could reach for the box of tissues on top of the counter, however, she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and let out a horrified gasp. Blood. Her nose was bleeding.
Fox Mulder woke suddenly to the sound of muffled cries and the very real feeling of arms and legs assaulting him. Groggy from a deep sleep, his first instinct was simply to fend off the attack, before his training took over. He stole a quick look at the clock beside him, grabbing for his weapon on the nightstand. It was 4:56 am. His senses came to him immediately, however, as he dropped his gun to the floor and turned on the light. Scully was still kicking underneath the sheets but her cries were now escalating into screams that would undoubtedly attract unwanted attention should he fail to calm her.
His first attempts at grabbing for her limbs were entirely unsuccessful, unprepared as he was for her enormous strength at resisting against being held down. Intermittent with her screams were uncontrollable bursts of tears that wrenched at his heartstrings. It was such an unsettling sight that he had to fight down a nauseating sensation that was quickly rising from the pit of his stomach. Some deep dark part of his psyche told him that this was supposed to be him, not Scully. Forcing himself into action, Mulder gathered up his strength and finally caught her flailing arms. He held her steady, tucking her face against his chest to muffle her cries. After one final attempt to kick him away, she seemed to relax as some part of her registered who it was that held her. With that realization came a renewed torrential flood of tears. What the hell was all this about?
"Scully?" His voice reflected the sickening fear that he felt. The sound of her crying was reaching a high-pitched intensity. "Jesus, Scully, you're having a nightmare..." At least that was wha t he hoped it was. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her none too gently, not caring what the proper protocol was for waking individuals from such a state. In any case, it wasn't happening fast enough for him. "Dana!"
That seemed to do it. As quickly as she had been overcome, she recovered, pulling away from him and looking around in confusion. "Why are you here? Where are we?"
Mulder refused to let go of her arms, negating her attempts to shake him off. "Scully...relax. We're in Kroner, remember? A cow came through the roof of my room..." He would have laughed if he weren't so scared. Nightmares were nothing new to him and a few times Scully had been witness to them herself, but this was something entirely different. Even during their first cases back from her abduction, he couldn't recall her having any difficulty sleeping. At least not when they were on the road together anyway.
"Oh God..." He finally released her arms, letting her cover her face with her hands. "Scully?"
She looked up at him, fully awake and functioning now, although her expression betrayed her less than successful efforts at suppressing tears of relief. His own emotions teetering on the edge, he responded by pulling her into a tight hug. Scully buried her face against him, allowing his familiar scent to ground her. Several deep breaths later, her pulse gradually returned to normal. She turned her head, laying her cheek against his chest. At the sound of his racing heartbeat, however, she became aware for the first time just how alarmed he was and must have been.
"Sorry, Mulder...I didn't mean to scare you."
"No, that's okay, that's okay...as long as you're okay now." He looked at her, still questioning.
"Bad dream... I was being taken for tests. Strange thing was, my mind was screaming, but it was like my body was willingly walking into it —”
"It didn't feel or sound like any part of that was 'willing', Scully."
"What do you mean? What did I do?"
"You have no idea?"
"Just that I was being taken by doctors — standard generic white surroundings, sterile, no details — they were explaining that the tests had to continue. I was following along, although I didn't really want to go...that's all I remember. Did I hurt you, Mulder?" She suddenly went into doctor mode and began examining his arms for scratches or bruises.
"No, no, of course not. Don't worry about me. You don't remember struggling to get away?" "No... I mean, the very idea is horrifying...it doesn't surprise me if I was struggling, but..."
Something flickered across her face. Some spark of knowledge. Mulder frowned, keeping his eyes on her as he reached down to the floor to retrieve the blanket and sheet that had fallen over the edge of the bed. "You have any idea what this is all about?"
"Isn't that your department, Mulder?" It was a feeble attempt at humor that failed miserably. She lowered her head in an attempt to escape his intense scrutiny. God, this was so unexpectedly embarrassing.
"I'm not an instant dream interpreter, Scully. You'd be able to make a better guess about this than me." He leaned forward to look at her more closely. "In fact, I'm betting you might know, period." "It can't be as simple as all that, but it can't be a coincidence either." He could barely hear her, even in the quiet stillness of the night.
"What can't be?"
Scully gathered up the bedding that he had recovered and wrapped it around herself tightly, sitting up against the headboard. She looked at him, then turned her eyes front, staring at the dark and silent TV screen.
"I have an appointment with my oncologist at the end of the month."
Mulder swallowed hard at hearing the words, his mouth going dry in seconds. The very thought of what that could mean left him lightheaded. He was suddenly extremely thankful to be sitting on a bed.
She turned back to him briefly, noticing his pale countenance. This was definitely not information that she preferred to share with him in the middle of the night, but it was obvious to her that it was likely the root cause of her nightmare.
"I used to have these appointments quite routinely — you knew about them — when I first went into remission. After the first year, they were scaled back to once every several months. It'll be six months since my last visit this time, but the difference is, they're planning a full spate of tests this go-around. It's normal procedure." She recited the information as though she were talking about a patient or a case rather than herself. Mulder knew that there could be two very different reasons for this attitude.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm telling you now."
"Yes, after scaring the shit out of me."
"I said I was sorry."
"That's hardly my point, Scully."
Was that disappointment she heard in his voice? She probably should have told him when the appointment was made. She herself had spent several agonizing hours thinking about it after her doctor called. The previous appointment back in February — at about the time that they got the XFiles back — was so routine that it came and went without any great panic. But she knew that six months later, she'd be due for an extensive observation to ensure that she was still stable and progressing without incident. It was coming up two years since her remarkable turnaround. With the knowledge that she'd have to be subjected to some unpleasant t