Title: PERSISTENT MEMORY (3) Author: jesse (jesse.bee@mailcity.com) Rating: NC-17 Category: A, MSR Spoilers: FTF (unabashed flickfic), Detour, Demons, Herrenvolk, Folie a Deux, The End, Home, 6th S rumors Summary: Scully pulls Mulder from the darkness--again. Angst & smut-fest! Disclaimer: 20th Century Fox, Chris Carter, and 1013 Productions own the rights to THE X-FILES. No copyright infringement is intended. Archive: If you like the thing that much--sure! Go for it. Just let me know when and where. Feedback: PLEASE. It reminds me I'm alive. ** This little offering is made with apologies to Lewis Carroll and blessings on the head of Tim Scott. Many thanks to Linda for her honesty and Michele for encouraging my behavior.** ----------------------------------------------------------- PERSISTENT MEMORY (1/3) Jesse011799 If it hadn't been for the car wreck, the emotional one probably wouldn't have happened. It was too much too soon. Only two weeks after Antarctica, a week after I told Mulder in no uncertain terms that I was staying with the FBI, with our partnership, with him. This virus, whatever its origins, is deadly real; my quest now is to find the cure. And there is a cure, or at least a partial one--it's how I'm sitting here now instead of standing there in glacial storage, my mind ticking off eternity in slow motion. When his face appeared before me through the murky green it didn't occur to me that he could possibly be real. I was only humbly thankful to Whomever that I had been granted the vision of my most- wanted to take with me out of this life. Because I knew beyond any shadow of doubt that this time, I was going to die. Alone. But he was real. A wet, haggard, determined, fallen angel defying hell itself for my sake. Again. That is Fox Mulder, my partner. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was Friday, it was late, it was raining. We had spent the week assembling a new office out of the wreckage of the old one and dealing with the inevitable mound of paperwork that always accompanies any such move within the FBI. To say nothing of the mountain generated by an impromptu trip to the bottom of the world. The next step would be the rebirth of the X-files from the massive back-ups and copies Mulder had been paranoid enough to make. I could kiss Skinner--how did he do it? He claims it was me. But all of this work had, of course, provided the perfect excuse for Mulder and I to avoid dealing with those minutes in the hall outside his apartment. Somewhere deep down at that moment I had known that this was it, the buttons were truly off the swordpoints and there was no going back. But this fact we two emotional cowards were ignoring in the cold light of day. I knew the signs of Mulder's "I-want-to-run-but-I-don't- want-to-let-you-out-of-my-sight" routine, and knew I was doing pretty much the same thing. Thus, having dinner together had seemed a good idea, to put off the separation of the weekend. We hadn't gotten more than a few blocks when we came on the wreck. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I could see the emergency lights as I followed Scully's car around the corner and knew she would park and go see if she could help. Of course I followed her. Police were working on someone lying in the street and Scully darted past the crumpled metal of the Accord, plunged into the middle of them shouting that she was a doctor. Looking over, I saw more cops leaning into the wreckage, evidently trying to help another victim. As I flashed my badge and got close, someone's flashlight illuminated her perfectly. I looked. Big mistake. A young woman, obviously very dead. With short red hair and a lovely familiar little heart-shaped face. I guess I turned as white as I felt, because one of the cops touched my arm and asked if I was all right. Whatever I muttered satisfied him because he let go. I looked around for Scully--I had to see her living breathing face *right now*. She was kneeling beside the body of the other victim, talking with the paramedics who had just arrived. Crouching down, I touched her shoulder; I needed to feel her breathe. I glanced at the corpse before her and knew immediately I'd made my second, fatal, mistake of the night. Another young woman. Long wet brunette hair splayed over the pavement. Hazel eyes staring into eternity. Time froze. Memory reared its ugly head. Scully winced as my fingers dug into her shoulder; I saw her look at me from the corner of my eye and realize what I was seeing. "Mulder..." Her voice released me. I stood up so fast I nearly overbalanced, sprinted back to my car. My chest was tight and Scully's eyes when I'd found her, frozen and looking into hell, overlaid everything. I could feel the tingle from the lightning of the mother of all memory- storms building in the back of my head and knew my control was tenuous at best. I had no reserves left--it was too damn soon and I was too damn tired. Rationality ran screaming into the corners, putting up a last ditch blockade. Oh God Scully I'm sorry, but there's no time--I've got to get home-- if I lose this out in the open it won't be like Oakbrook or Quonochontaug--this time they'll just throw away the keys--go home, gohomegohomescully .... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In shock I stared after Mulder. Dealing with a victim who looked like what his sister quite possibly looked like always was an ordeal for him, but not like this. He'd never just cut and run like he saw all the fiends of hell in pursuit. A sudden, nauseating hunch brought me to my feet. I heard tires squeal and I knew it was Mulder as I trotted the few steps to the wreckage. I got through the people, looked into the remains. Saw a face and hair enough like mine that we could have been sisters. I must have looked pretty formidable because people got out of my way as I headed for my car. *Mulder, go home* kept running frantically through my brain as I spun out of there, heading for his apartment. If he didn't go there, I realized with sick clarity, I didn't know *where* to look. Of course, I caught every single red light and traffic jam there was, slowing me considerably and adding fuel to my worry-fire. My brain jigged as I drove, trying frantically to explain Mulder's flight. Bad as they were, those two bodies shouldn't have done it. Mulder wasn't anywhere near that fragile. He'd faced down far worse in my presence and bounced back, or least walked. Think Dana, think. You're not a shrink but you've worked more than five years cheek to jowl with one of the best. Anything rub off? Time. Of course. Not enough time. Mulder was still flat out exhausted, tapped out. His life's work had been toasted in the basement. The X-Files shut down without recourse to appeal. <<>> <<>> <<>> <<>> <<>> <<<"We've got a date, Mulder," she had whispered to him. "We've got unfinished business, do you hear me? Don't think you're gonna die and get out of it. We've got a future, by God, and I want it.">>> How in the hell could anybody be expected to recover from *that* in only two weeks? I blinked, started and came back to myself as the little slideshow in my head finished up, and wondered if I'd just experienced what Mulder referred to as a memory cascade. There really IS such a thing as body autopilot. I was pulling up in front of Mulder's building with no real memory of driving there. I cast around quickly--shit. No car. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Would she come? Check on me, make sure I was alive so she could chew my ass about running off? The last rational shreds of me cowered, trying to fight off the inevitable. I knew with the certainty of the condemned that this was it, that I was going to have a brainstorm like I'd not had in fifteen years or more. The ultimate curse of an eidetic recall: memory cascade gone crazy and locked into infinite loop. The past replayed in endless detail so vivid that the present disappears. You can't see, can't hear, can't tell what you're doing or what is real. Without some kind of anchor to the present, madness can be as close as your next breath. Ninety-eight percent of people have never come close to one, never even heard of it. Then there are poor suckers like me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Locked. No answer, no sound. He's not here. Keys in one fist, I laid my forehead and palm of my other hand flat against the cool wood of the door. Then I heard it. I could only describe it as the moan of the damned. Paralyzed, I felt an actual chill run up my spine. And there, again, shivering up the scale, dragged from someone in agony too much to bear in silence. Without conscious volition I unlocked his door and slipped inside. Don't know where the car was, but he was there. He never heard me. He was a dark figure on the couch, hunched up and lost in the immanent storm. For years I'd wondered if some day all the emotional trauma he buried and wouldn't, couldn't deal with was going to rise up and bite him in the ass. Damn sure looked like it. All thought left me but the need to try to comfort him. I crossed to the couch and put my arm around him, whispered to him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ No Scully. She wasn't coming. She'd finally had enough of me. The last barricade broke and all there was in this world was pain. The roof could've come down right then and I would not have heard it over the thundering cannon fusillade in my ears. Did I make a sound? I don't know. I couldn't see, I could barely breath. No shelter. Rationality gone, only emotion left and much too much vivid memory. I had no hope of a miracle happening--it never had. This time, it did. I felt the couch dip, her perfume and her arm come around me. Now, to say I'm not religious is a vast understatement. But should a real miracle ever actually happen to you, don't waste time questioning. Grab it and hold on. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For a second Mulder was utterly still. It would be so easy for him to throw me physically across the room.... Then his arms snapped up and around me, and he turned into me hard enough to knock us both over, my head landing on the armrest and his on my chest. He moaned something that might have been my name, his face buried in my breast, and the storm broke with awesome fury. I wrapped around him as far as I could and held on tight as his lean body shuddered convulsively in my arms. This far eclipsed that awful night by his mother's hospital bedside. Tears ran down my face as he cried, soaking my shirt to my skin in fairly short order. Curses and pleas and confessions wrung out of him, all the tortures he'd added to his conscience over the years whether they were his to bear or not. Everything that had happened to me. Every moment of his sister's abduction. Every time his mother had turned from him. Every time his father had raised his hand. It seemed all the worst in his life was replaying itself and dragging him with it. By what he was saying he wasn't remembering--he was *there*, reliving it. I shivered, recalling my experience in the car. Sometimes he seemed to surface, to be aware of me and where he really was, and then the past sucked him down again. The pain in my chest had nothing to do with his weight and everything to do with my heart breaking repeatedly as I silently cursed to seven hells everything, everyone who'd contributed to the emotional crippling of this brilliant, beautiful man. I stroked his back steadily and threaded my fingers through his silky hair, massaging the back of his neck. He was like corded steel cable, taut and ready to snap. He breathed in harsh gasps, grasping desperately for air. "It's all right, it's okay. That's it, let it out. I've got you. Just let it out. Let it all out. You're safe, I've got you." I kissed the crown of his head. "I'm right here. I'll be right here." I don't think he could hear me. It was several hours that I lay there with Mulder, unable to do anything except hold him while he came completely unglued. One of my worst nightmares was unfolding before my eyes. Had either of his parents appeared before me at that moment I'd have shot them down without remorse. Several times we wrestled, Mulder re-enacting past struggles to run away from some damn thing. But all of his strength was going to his emotional battle, and he had little left to fight me with. A little voice kept telling me that physical contact with me was his best chance of finding his way back. So I simply refused to let him go. There was irony here somewhere if I could find it. Rational, in- control Agent Scully was pretty useless here. It was Dana Scully the woman who was needed now; she was the one who could help. I felt like I was on the rack, but by God I wasn't going to let him down. Oh my friend, for all the times you've helped me, held me; for all the times you tried and I wouldn't let you.... Forever passed. His shaking began to quiet and his body to relax a bit. His tears slowed, then stopped, and his breathing became easier. His tortured monologue had run down, but that might have been more from lack of voice--he had cried himself hoarse. I had long since run out of words, even sweet nonsense ones, to murmur. Instead my instincts had taken a hint from history and so I was singing to him, very softly. Things from my childhood; tunes my mother had sung to us, sea songs of my father. Of course, I can't sing, but Mulder doesn't seem to mind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ end part 1 of 3 Title: PERSISTENT MEMORY (3) Author: jesse (jesse.bee@mailcity.com) Rating: NC-17 Category: A, MSR ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ PERSISTENT MEMORY (2/3) jesse011799 OhgodohgodOHGOD she's still here, still here. Why isn't she leaving? They always leave. But she's still here. She smells so good, feels so good--warm, soft, real--this is real, *she's* real. Candle in the dark. Scully is here and now, anchoring me.... Yeah. 'Here' is where she is. I can do this. Breathe, idiot, breathe. Congratulations, Scully--you've now officially saved my sorry ass all seven possible ways from Sunday. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We were still where we'd fallen, but his earlier death grip on me had loosened. He lay between me and the couch back, his head over my heart, arms around me and one leg thrown over mine. Without thinking, I shifted a little to ease the kink developing in my back. Mulder tensed, his hand around my waist clenching a little, and he whispered just a bare thread of sound. "Scully....?" My pulse jumped. It was Mulder, *my* Mulder. For the first time that night it really sounded like the present-day *him* and not a past-life version. "It's me, Mulder." How many times had we said that to each other over the years? It almost felt talismanic now. "Dana...don't go....please...." Dana?! My heart broke for the thousandth time and I hugged him hard. "I'm right here, Mulder. I'm not going anywhere." My voice was nearly as gone as his. His head shook fractionally against me. "Fox." WHOA. I suddenly had a hell of a time swallowing around the lump in my throat. Whispering into his hair, "Fox? Are you sure....?" "....it's me....take it....you've--got everything else...." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There you are, Scully, that's all of it. Life and Times of Fox Mulder, Cliff Notes version by Stephen King. All the lowlights and salient points covered. Maybe the Mulders don't pass 'genetic muster' after all. God, I'm tired. My brain hurts. My *hair* hurts. You feel unutterably wonderful, did you know that? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There was silence for a while, breathing growing soft and even other than the occasional hitch in his. He seemed to become aware that my blouse was wet where he was laying on it, and he moved up my body a little to rest his head directly under my chin. I felt the prickle of stubble, the slightly sticky salt of his tears. His breath was warm across the skin of my collarbone, and he nuzzled into the hollow of my throat like a child seeking comfort. Fox Mulder is letting me comfort him, seeking my comfort. He has given me his NAME. This is unreal. In some corner of my mind it occurred to me that we were as tangled as if we were making love, yet there were no sexual vibes at all. I could feel five foot worth of him against me, and there was definitely no arousal factor working. On him, at least. In fact, just the opposite. His arm had slackened and his breathing deepened. Probably due to sheer exhaustion, he was out. Pinning me quite effectively to the couch with about 170 pounds or so of dead weight. I found the thought of spending the night as Mulder's teddy bear very appealing, even under these circumstances. Despite my worry I was enjoying immensely this chance to touch him so freely, hold him and stroke him like his mother obviously hadn't done enough, the stiff Yankee harpy. God. When last had I been able to hold him? When last had he let me, or had I let myself? The enormity of this night was sinking in. He'd sobbed out things about his childhood I never wanted to know. Mulder had confided in me as to what drove him way back on our first case together, a lifetime ago. But now I understood how the remainder of his youth had been raped away from him. Not that it sounded like life before age twelve had been any picnic either. Ahab had been a military man with all the starch that entails, but never ever had I doubted that he loved me. Never had he raised his hand to his family as Mulder's father had evidently done, on a regular basis for no apparent reason. I'd suspected; Mulder had unconsciously hinted at it over the years. But to have it confirmed, like this, was horrifying. Will he realize all of what he's said? If I'm right in any of my suspicions about what's just happened here tonight, maybe he won't. If God is kind, he won't. And I'll never tell him. I yawned, surprising myself. God, I was tired too. I raised my wrist into the faint light. 9:30pm. Night was still young. I resumed stroking Mulder's hair, cherishing the feel of it between my fingers. I wished I could see his face. Why must we always come together in sorrow or pain? Why not in joy for once? Because pain breaks the fences you both keep building, you idjit. And because you don't have enough joy in your life to share. Because you keep pushing back your greatest source of it. Because you're afraid. And he's afraid. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I thought I'd only blinked, but suddenly it wasn't 9:30, it was about twenty after eleven. Gathering my scattered wits I realized what had woken me. Mulder was stretching, moving against me in his sleep, and I could feel way way too much of his warm, extremely....male....body against mine. Feel every inch of him against my suddenly way way too sensitive skin. The arousal factor I'd managed to ignore earlier came roaring back with a vengeance. The imp of the perverse that lived in the very back of my mind found this horrendously amusing. 'you want him,' said the imp. 'do not,' said I. 'the hell you don't,' said the imp, 'you love him.' 'not *that* way,' said I. 'the HELL you don't,' snickered the imp. 'SHUT UP' I told it firmly. The 'sensible' portion of my brain had awoken and was doing battle with the rest of me, looking for a way to start to pull back. For the sake of our friendship, our partnership; the only relationships we could afford to have. To disconnect this comfort session from that almost kiss in the hall because he wouldn't admit it had happened--he was running like he'd run from me in north Florida. Like I had always run. But dammit, I wanted more--I could admit it now. I'd almost died. He'd almost died. Aren't we entitled to something more than phantom nights? Can that be so wrong? Screw up your courage, Dana. You've kept yourself alone for so long. Step over the fence, reach out. So close, so close. His mouth haunted my dreams, along with other parts. I wanted that sexy bottom lip so badly, wanted to taste him.... Oh God, I'd better move. I don't know what woke him up but damn the man for a mind-reader. The hand at my waist slid up my side, curved around my shoulder. His voice was a little stronger now. "Stay ..." He sounded so lost. That and his hands told me his unspoken words--stay with me tonight, hold me, let me hold you, I don't want to be alone.... My heart ached so badly for him that my eyes prickled with tears again. This was Mulder as I doubted anyone had ever seen him: hurting, vulnerable, wide open and absolutely raw. God--he trusts me THIS much. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, keenly aware of his living heat. Take what you can get, Dana. Store it up against the real world. "All right." Air rushed out of him suddenly like he'd been holding his breath. "I need to do a few things first. Wait right here for me--don't move." "Where would I go?" A faint attempt at humor? This is a good sign-- it *is* him. It's handy that I know his apartment. I maneuvered into the bathroom, snagging what I hoped were a couple of clean shirts off of a pile in the hall. Closing the door, I flicked on the light. I stripped off my jacket and poor ravaged blouse and, after a moments hesitation, my bra. The blouse and bra were tear-soaked through and sticky with salt. I rinsed them quickly and flung them over the shower bar, then slipped on Mulder's long jersey. Taking a quick look in the mirror, I had to snicker--huge was not even the word. I stripped off my shoes and nylons and skirt as well. Why not--his shirt came to my knees. If I was going to spend the night on *that couch* I might as well be comfortable. I washed my face free of tears and the last traces of makeup, then soaked a washcloth in warm water and wrung it. Taking that and the other shirt, I killed the light. Mulder was indeed just he'd been, but he stirred as I laid the teeshirt and washcloth on the coffee table. "Scully?" "Of course. Hold still and let me get your shoes off." He did, and then obediently sat up and let me gently wipe his face and remove his tie, not quite there. But he roused when I began to unbutton his shirt. "You're....taking my shirt off." "Very good. You don't want to sleep in it, do you?" "Happens....all the time...." "Well, not on my watch. Besides, I don't want your buttons permanently implanted in my skin." He flinched as I slid the shirt down his arms and off. What?....oh. Damn. Bad choice of words, Dana. I pushed that aside for the moment and concentrated on getting the sweaty undershirt off and the teeshirt on, getting that nicely muscled chest out of my immediate field of vision. But he continued to tense under my hands. Oh no you don't. Not after all that. I sat back down next to him and took his chin gently, turned him toward me. "Look at me." Hazel eyes opened with obvious reluctance, focused somewhere below my chin. I took advantage of my new liberty. "Fox. Look at me." He started and met my eyes, his dark and glittering in the faint fishtank light. "I am a *big* girl." Ah, his mouth quirked. "If I wanted to leave our partnership, I would go. I think I proved that. I choose to stay. With us. With you. Nothing that has happened to me is your fault. The decision is mine and the risk is mine. It's my choice." I shook him a hair. "You, sir, can believe six impossible things before breakfast on a daily basis--why is believing this so hard?" A painful little ghost of a smile appeared. Mulder reached up and twined his fingers in mine, brought our joined hands down to his lap and stared at them, visibly gathering himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was like nothing I'd ever heard from him before, even in the last several hours. Raw, scraped, bottom of the barrel. Nowhere left to hide, and nothing left to lose. "Because the naked fact is that working with me is the root cause of everything that's happened to you. Because that choice has bought you so much pain that didn't have to be. Because when I....look past my own....selfish motivations, I don't understand why you stay. Why have you? Why would you want to?" "Because I do. I want to. Because the X-Files have become essential to me, not in the same way they are to you but still essential. Because my partner has become essential. Because the *man* who is my partner has become essential." My heart is pounding. "Because you asked me to. Because you said you needed me." Am I really saying this? "Do you? Need me?" He looked back at me then, and shivered where our bodies touched. He let go my hand and raised both of his to cup my face, like that night in the hall. His gaze pinned me, his eyes told me he was terrified. So was I. "Only like I need air." Jesus God he said it--he actually said it. All or nothing, Dana. "Do you know what kept me going out there on the ice? After you collapsed? Waiting to see if we'd freeze to death?" I swallowed hard. "You made me an offer there in the hall, and I wanted it. I wanted to taste you before I died." Something I could never hope to describe shifted in Mulder's face and his eyes widened. For a long moment he just stared at me. "Let me honor that offer, then, shall I?" He leaned in slowly and my eyes closed despite me. And he kissed me. Firm, but almost....chaste. Wonderful. But, thought I with a totally incongruous bubble of laughter, not what I asked for. So I ran my tongue lightly over his bottom lip. He lifted his head and I missed him immediately. My eyes popped open and I watched in fascination as his expression changed. I saw him complete. Open, naked. Essence of Mulder. Fox. Raw need, desire, panic, love. My God. Love. I couldn't breathe. No man had ever looked at me like that. Everything was there in his face--he was just too tired to hide. The next kiss was anything but chaste. His lips slanted across mine, hungry, demanding, nibbled arousingly at my lower lip. His tongue begged entry and I took him in. Sunflower seeds. Coffee. Some dark, spicy, delicious thing that was uniquely Fox Mulder. Fire pooled below my belly and I was sparking electricity. I can die a happy woman but please God NOT NOW I couldn't bear to miss a moment of this. Mulder loves me. And he WANTS me. BAD. This may be my best chance to breach the fence for good. To shatter it so thoroughly that neither of us can back up or back out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am drowning. Her mouth is sweet and deep and rich. Fine cordials, two hundred year old whisky. Hell, just the smell of her is making me drunk. My fingers slip into her hair and down her neck and it's like silk and satin. All the times I've stopped myself reaching for her in the past year or so come roaring in and I'm capsized, overwhelmed, no control. I can't stop touching her. My lower half's *waaay* more awake than it ought to be capable of right now; ah shit, admit it, I want her so bad I could swallow her whole. And all I've done is kissed her. But I can't have her--this can't be. I should never have kissed her because now I'm lost, I've tasted the absolute rarest liquor and I'm addicted; it'll be completely useless with anyone else ever again. It may just kill me to stop this, but I've got to. Holding her face I wrenched away from her mouth to kiss her nose, her cheeks, her eyes; laid my forehead against hers. I swallowed air and searched for a voice. "Scully, no, please. Got to stop, we can't do this. You've got to stop this, please--I don't think I can. Push me away NOW--or this won't stop until it's over." She actually chuckled. I dragged my eyes open and she broadsided me with the most amazing smile. "Stop? Now that you've got me right where I want you? HELL no." She grabbed my face and held me tight, her eyes fierce blue lasers boring into mine. "This will work. We will *make* it work. *No one* will separate us again; not the FBI, not the damn aliens - *no one*." "If you want me, then I'm yours and you are MINE, Fox Mulder. NOTHING WILL SEPARATE US AGAIN." IF I WANT YOU?! That's it. I'm done. Scully, it's me. You've got me. I don't understand why the hell you'd want me, but you've got me. I need you so badly. I can't fight this anymore. This still wasn't going to work but I had to try because she believed it would. She believed--so I had to try. I grabbed her and held on for dear life, buried my face in her neck and her wonderful scented hair. Ah Scully--will you still say that when--when it all falls apart? When the debts of my little fracas with Spender come due? When Diana returns and Jesus what am I going to do about that? When they yank us off the Files again and try and reassign you God knows where and I KNOW they will--this was just too easy. No. *No.* Not now. I WILL NOT think about it now. *Now* is Scully. For once, Mulder, think only about right now. I was exhausted but thanks to Scully, reasonably sane. I was also damn near painfully aroused and I wanted her worse than I'd ever wanted anyone in my life. There'd be hell to pay later, I knew it, but I couldn't make myself care. Scully as restorative and aphrodisiac. Bottle this and make a mint. I was falling and she had me pushed back down onto the couch. Her hair fell around her face as she propped up on her elbow and she tucked it back behind one ear in that gesture I'd seen a million times before. Her vibrant heat pressed into my side, her soft warm....Oh God. Jesus. When did this happen? Dana Scully is wearing one of my shirts. And not much else. Mr. Happy is taking notice. This is unreal. Her face was a study as her fingers whispered over my forehead, eyebrows, everywhere; every touch an electric charge heading straight south. My eyes slid shut as she touched my mouth, and she stopped. "Look at me." Somehow I managed. "I want you to know it's me." "It's you." My throat tried to close up and my eyes were stinging. "It's always been you. For almost five years. The once or twice... it was all wrong, because all I could see was you. I...." but the rest was going to have to wait because she was kissing me with serious intent. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Poor man--he had more to say but it was just going to have to wait because if I didn't kiss him right that second I was going to cry again and we'd had enough of that. He didn't seem to mind, though. We plundered each other's mouths, hungry with the pent-up frustration of five really really long years. His hands slid down my back, found the bottom edge of the jersey and slipped under, rubbed teasingly on the backs of my thighs. I gasped into his mouth and squirmed, crawled up half on top of him, pressed my leg between his. Felt his immediate response. Niiice, Mulder, very nice. *Hoo-boy* he's aroused and so am I, and getting hotter by the second. I tore away from his mouth and began investigating the earlier paths of my fingers, tasting my way up his jaw, stroking down his sides and tracing ribs and muscle. His skin was warm and salty and deliciously--Mulder. His hands explored the curves of my butt, my waist, trailing fire all the way. As I reached his ear he hesitated, hands clenching slightly. I nosed around the perimeter, then with tongue I dipped inside. His chest heaved as his breath sucked in on a hiss, and a bone-deep shudder ran through him. His hands clamped down on my ass, his hips and something else lifting into my thigh. OK--I was wrong. NOW he's aroused. I continued my delicate assault and he gasped, shifting under me. "Scuh-leee.... " The sound of my name, transformed in that wild, hoarse tone, sent a shockwave rocketing through me. It was me he wanted. *Me*. My nipples were painfully tight and I could have left a puddle in the street. I wanted skin. "Changed my mind about that teeshirt," I whispered against his throat, working my way down, grabbing the shirt and shoving it up his body. He let go of my butt and his abdominals ridged delightfully as he raised up enough to let me slip it off, stroking hard muscle as I went. I dropped it and pushed him back. Propped on my elbow again, I ran my hand from the joint of his neck and shoulder down over his chest, clutching velvety warm skin, chest hair catching at my fingers. I kissed the small scar under his shoulder in mute apology. The rasp of my nipples across his chest with only a thin layer of cotton between us was exquisite torture. Nipples. What a lovely idea. I licked around one of his teasingly, then pulled it into my mouth. Mulder twitched and shivered, groaning low in his throat. His hands were everywhere now, under the shirt, circling on my butt and thighs, massaging the length of my back, scooting the jersey upwards.... My free hand wandered south and unbuckled his belt, unfastened his trousers. Go, girl. I slipped my fingers down over very hot silk and squeezed. Jackpot. "SCULLEEE!!" Something between a groan and a scream erupted from Mulder as he thrust up hard against my hand, arching off the couch. "God-- *Dana*.... !" He moaned tightly and I did too, my arousal feeding greedily off of his. I relinquished his nipple to look up and watch his face twist, his head rolling on the cushion as his hips continued to pump against my stroking with mounting pressure. God, he was beautiful. I sleeked my hand inside the boxer fly and got....skin. Velvet and steel and fire. Mulder's eyes opened wide for a second then slammed shut again as he bucked harder, thrashing. So beautiful. I wanted him animal, wild, so wild that he couldn't stop. So that I couldn't stop. So that neither of us could back away. At that moment I knew I would probably never use his given name in public, because to me this, now, was Fox. To the outside world he would remain Mulder. But for me this uniquely gorgeous man, in the throws of this passion I could evoke, calling *my* name --THIS was Fox. I wasn't going to share this with *anyone*. His movements grew increasingly frantic, his moans resolving into words, getting clearer. "....damn you damn you damn you....!" His eyes flashed open, huge and hot. Forest fire. I gasped at his expression and understood just how far I'd pushed him, how close he was to loosing it. One up for the Irish. Literally. Next thing I knew he'd surged upright taking me with him, ripped the jersey over my head and flipped me over, pinning me with my arms over my head. He looked....feral. Bingo, Dana--he's gone. He couldn't stop now with a gun to his head. You ain't driving this bus no mo. "Pay-back time, partner. Your turn to scream." His growl triggered yet another avalanche of wet heat crashing down through my center. He had both my wrists in one hand and the other shot down and parted my thighs. I didn't scream, but it was pretty close. Fire, fire, everywhere. His fingers circled and caressed and flicked with exquisite understanding of just what it would take to drive me completely insane. His hot wet mouth closed over my breast, sweet agony tearing through me as he suckled, drawing me up between his teeth and nipping. I was writhing under him, sensation shutting down my brain. Sounds I'd never heard before were leaving my throat, jumping an octave when he slipped a finger inside. Then two. Pumping, stroking, oh GOD closer closer closer. It was my turn to push desperately against his hand, moaning, begging, pleading. Nothing else mattered, nothing at all except that he must....not....stop. But he was....nononono! My eyes shot open to see him standing up over me. He made short work of my panties and then his pants and boxers, and he was gloriously naked. I think my eyes bugged for a second at the view. Mulder is a big man and I am a small woman--are you getting the picture? His hands pushed my legs wide apart and then he was *there*, hips cradled in mine, impossibly hard against me. He twisted and ground and circled and I did scream because he was rocking forward into my pleasure command central and I was almost--almost--almost-- "What do you want, Scully? Tell me!" His voice was wracked, his expression the most erotic thing I'd ever seen. "You....!" I gasped, barely able to breathe. "Now--please.... !" He reached down and parted me and pushed. My mouth opened on a soundless note as he slid in. And in. Hard, hot. Huge. "Oh--GOD--yeessss." His hips fetched up against mine, all the way home. Mulder bowed his head into my shoulder and stopped. I felt him shudder even as my body stretched to welcome him, pleasure only barely this side of pain. Incredibly tight--complete; the sensation was indescribable. He lifted his face after a moment and looked down at me, momentary sanity warring with desperate savage need. "Dana-- are you....am I hurting you?" I shook my head--I couldn't speak, he had shoved every bit of air from my lungs-- but I looked him straight in the eyes and mouthed the words: "Move--now!" One-two-three-four....on the fifth stroke his pelvis ground hard against me and hit the spot. Every muscle I had locked up, arching me up hard into him, and the world exploded. Somewhere through the shockwaves I heard my name on a cry that wrenched up into a shout and cut off abruptly as he drove into me twice more and then went rigid. My universe dissolved completely into heat and light and pleasure much too strong to handle. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ end part 2 of 3 Title: PERSISTENT MEMORY (3) Author: jesse (jesse.bee@mailcity.com) Rating: NC-17 Category: A, MSR ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ PERSISTENT MEMORY (3/3) jesse011799 I reformed eventually, coalesced back into skin and muscle and the sweet feel of Mulder's weight collapsed on top of me. He covered me completely, a warm heavy blanket right up to my nose, warding off the cool of the room from my damp skin. I kissed his throat, running my hands up his back, and was rewarded with a little inarticulate groan as he stirred. I nibbled gently on his shoulder and collarbone, just absorbing the feel and the flavor of his skin. Even sweaty he tasted good. I grinned at myself. I nibbled him some more and felt vibration under my lips as Mulder hummed low in his throat. "Am I the new menu item?" His breath sighed through my hair, his raspy baritone warm with notes I'd never heard before. I looked up to see him watching me with soft eyes, the irises nearly black in the low light. His expression was a wonderful blend of amusement and amazement, as though he wasn't entirely sure I wasn't going to disappear on him in the next few seconds. A little more awareness seeped back and he began to shift but I tightened my arms around him. "Stay." "I've got to be crushing you." "You're wonderful right where you are. Don't move yet." For a moment he looked like he'd argue with me but satiation and exhaustion won out. His eyes closed and he settled back down with a little sigh, his head just above mine and his nose in my hair. I nuzzled under his chin and kissed his throat again, nipped a little. "Yes you are, actually, several of them," I answered his earlier question. "Appetizer, soup, salad, entree...." He chuckled and it rumbled delightfully against me. "Dessert?" His tone was absolutely wicked, but then a huge yawn caught him. "I think....first....I'm gonna have to....have a nap..." I looked up at him again, reached up and tapped his nose and his eyes cracked open. "Then I'm afraid you will have to move after all," I smiled. "You can't sleep on me." "Sure I could--you just won't let me....." We untangled with little sounds of disappointment, then scooted around until Mulder lay on his back and I was tucked in between him and the couch back. He snagged the comforter down from its spot and dragged it over us. I curled up against him like he was the ultimate whole-body pillow, which he was. Mulder wrapped both arms around me, let out the most contented sound I'd ever heard him make, and was almost instantly asleep. I raised my head to look at him. The expression on his face made my throat close up. He looked....calm. Peaceful. Happy. Joyful. In a way I'd never seen him before. What a night of firsts this was turning out to be. Don't misunderstand me. I've seen Mulder asleep many more times than I could count over the last six years. It's almost always a charming sight, at least to me. His frustration and tension lines disappear along with about ten years, and you could almost believe that he's not far out of college, fresh and new and ready to take on the world. There was a time when it bothered me that he was forever falling asleep on me during road trips, in planes and cars, even though he was so cute that way. I mean, how flattering. Your partner the confessed insomniac, who frequently wakes you up at weird hours, regularly nods off in your presence. But after a while I came to understand a deeper meaning. It was, in fact, my presence. It spoke eloquently of the partnership, the trust between us. It said that he knew he could let go for a while knowing that I would be there, I had the controls and things would be just fine. I made him feel comfortable, secure. Safe. From this man, that is a hell of a compliment. But this was a different look. He was....smiling. In his sleep. The corners of his generous mouth curved up a little, his lips soft and parted, all the planes and angles of his unique face defined in the low light. A hint of laugh lines peeked around his eyes, the lashes dark crescents on his silvered skin. A chiaroscuro study of a man who'd fallen asleep with his heart's desire in his arms. This is Fox Mulder, my lover. Nothing has changed, but everything is different now. This will be both the hardest and the easiest thing we have ever done. This is right. A simple unquestionable truth, like that of the sun rising in the east. We are home. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By the feel of the sunlight beating on my closed eyelids I knew it must be much, much later than I ever normally slept, even on the weekends, but I felt lazy and fabulous and I was utterly loathe to leave what had to be the most amazing dream I'd ever had. It was all Scully, Scully, Scully. Hands, lips, eyes, hair, body--oh maaan, body. I could feel her in my arms, cuddled up against my side, half on top of me. I could even smell her. So I just laid there and soaked it in, storing it up. It was so incredibly real that I sighed her name softly aloud. "Mrrph," the dream responded, and snuggled closer. I was instantly, completely awake, my eyes focusing in stunned amazement on the bright hair spread like silk across my chest. I was holding on to, cuddled up with, the warm, lithe, buck-ass naked Special Agent Dr. Dana Katherine Scully. Her training must have surfaced when I jarred awake because she did too, and slowly raised her head to look at me with those blue, blue eyes, shock written as large on her face as it probably was on mine. For a pregnant moment we just stared at each other; then I said the first thing that popped into my head. "You're real. You're actually here." It must have been the right thing to say. I watched in fascination as her eyes warmed and darkened and THE smile, the full rare beautiful one with lots of teeth which I'd seen so few times before, spread across her face. "I'm here. I'm real." I had to smile back at her--I had no choice. But then her eyes started to glitter and her smile faded, and she laid her head back down directly over my heart. A touch of panic ran through me. I touched her hair hesitantly. "Scully?" She breathed suddenly and it felt a little shaky. She flattened her palm against my chest, rubbing lightly. I had to strain to hear her. "It's just that....," her voice trailed off and I stopped breathing. Waiting for the worst, the inevitable Scully shut-down that would this time completely destroy my world, the 'gosh you know that was fun, but hey it's been real, gotta go now....' Then she lifted her head and looked at me square. Her eyes were wet. "It's just that....you're real, too." My heart restarted with a painful lurch. Revelation was a blinding light from her eyes--Scully dreamed about me as I did about her. Scully *dreamed*. About *me*. Helpless hopeless nights with a phantom lover and no chance of the dream becoming reality. It was real. All of it was real. This is real. Her cheeks flushed hotly but a small smile reappeared as she saw me understand, then her head thumped down and she was hugging me. I hugged her back probably hard enough to bruise. All the events of the past eighteen hours continued to roar through my mind, and I shut my eyes against a sudden rush of tears. Last night Scully had quite possibly saved my debatable sanity and my soul too, if I had one. And then she had found the courage I hadn't had; to finish what I, we, had started in the hall two weeks ago. So how had I repaid her? By exhibiting all the control of a seventeen-year-old. I hadn't made slow worshipful love to her like she deserved, like I'd dreamed for years of doing; I'd fucked her. Hard. "Oh, Scully...." It came out as a harsh whisper, and one of those idiot tears escaped. "What have we done? What have I done? I can't let you go now." A tiny humorless laugh. "Not that I could before, but now...." I felt her raise her head, then she was scooting up. Her fingers touched my face, brushing at the wet, but I could not open my eyes. "I swear I will do my best not to--protect--you on the job, but I can't let you go." Christ, is that my voice? "I've wanted you for so long, and the more I wanted you the less I could touch you. I took refuge in the job, thinking that way you'd never have reason to leave. And it turned out *that was* your reason to leave--all I accomplished was to make you doubt just how essential you are. But all the times you've said the job is my life--you're right. And I don't think I can do either of them--or anything else--without you." God, how much longer will I have either of you? I swallowed hard. "I--lost control on you last night, Dana, and I'm sorry. That wasn't ever what I had in mind for the first time with you. I could never regret that it happened, just--how. Please, let me make it up to you. Tell me there will be a 'next time'." Her fingers touched my lip. Her voice was soft and choked. "You only did what I drove you into, Fox." My eyes came open at the sound of my name in her voice. Strange and....wonderful. But I couldn't see her; her head was down next to mine, her mouth by my ear. "I--I did that deliberately. Pushed you over the edge. To make sure that I couldn't stop either. And--frankly I enjoyed the hell out of the end result. But I--took advantage of you, of the emotional state you were in, and I'm not proud of that. *I'm* sorry." She took a deep, shaky sounding breath. "I want there to be a 'next time' too." My God. SHE did that? - ON PURPOSE? Relief swamped me. Joy and wonder and love and I'm not sure what else were a happy tide rising in my chest and honestly, I doubt I could have bitten back the next remark if my life had depended on it. "So--you mean to say that five years of trying to get you to jump me finally paid off?" Her head popped up then, eyes wide, and she was looking down at me and the ridiculously happy grin which had plastered itself to my face. I think she was trying for her usual cool expression but her smile got out anyway and--*wow*--teeth. Twice in five minutes. And she punched me on the hip. "Scully! - that hurt!" "Good. Serves you right." But her grin got bigger, if anything. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is Fox Mulder, my best friend. My heart. finis