Title:  Clinical Detachment (1/1)
Author:  Zuffy
Email:  zuffynuffy@yahoo.com 
Rating:  R
Category:  S, R
Spoilers:  None in particular, well maybe one reference to Milagro
Keywords:  Mulder/Scully romance
Summary:  Scully's injury tests our agents' self-control
Written:  July 1999
Archive:  Yes, but keep my name and email on it, please
Disclaimer:  How could anyone not know that Dana Scully, Fox 
Mulder, and the X-Files are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 
Productions, and Fox?  I'm just giving them a workout.  You know, 
keeping them in shape over the summer.  


Clinical Detachment

"Oupf."  Dana Scully grunted as she tumbled forward, hitting 
the ground with her right hand extended.  "Damn it," she muttered 
under her breath, aware that everyone within hearing distance had 
turned to watch her, now on her hands and knees, face hovering 
just above the pavement.

"Scully.  Scully, are you all right?"  Her partner hurried 
forward and crouched at her side.  She nodded slowly, "I'm fine, 
Mulder.  I just tripped."  Stupidly, she added to herself.  ((Since 
when have I become so uncoordinated?  I definitely need to work 
out more.  Back to the gym as soon as we finish our cockamamie 
assignment in this god-forsaken place.))

"Are you sure?  Any cuts?"  

His good-natured concern irritated her.  ((If I said I'm fine, I'm 
fine.  Nothing I can't handle.  After everything I've been through, 
after all...))

"Here, let me help."  He put a hand around her waist to help 
her up.

"I'm really okay."  She stepped forward away from his arm 
and brushed the small bits of asphalt off her hand.  A small rivulet 
of blood ran from the cut on the palm of her hand.  She held it out 
to him.  "Do we have some water in the car?  I just want to wash 
this off."  He hurried to open the trunk, watching her from the 
corner 
of his eye as she limped to the passenger side door and opened it 
with her left hand.

"Let me do this, Scully.  I got a merit badge in first aid and I 
have to keep my skills up."  He poured the water over her hand and 
dabbed gently at the cut with a gauze square.  The water and blood 
dripped onto the ground kicking up little puffs of dust.

"Mulder, you never got a merit badge in anything, except 
maybe in leaping to conclusions. Thanks, that feels better.  You did 
learn somewhere."

He was fishing in the first aid kit now and pulled out a tube of 
antibiotic ointment.  The flow of blood had slowed, and he dabbed 
the cut again, waiting for it to finish.  "It's from watching over 
your 
shoulder.  I know lots of medical things."

"I do autopsies, Mulder.  I'm afraid what you've seen isn't 
going to do you much clinical good."  They both stared at her hand, 
willing it to stop bleeding.  Mulder dabbed at it one last time, 
then 
rubbed on the ointment.  "There," he said. "Good as new."  She 
smiled at his maternal words and he raised her arm slightly.  

"Ow."

"What's wrong?"

"That hurts.  It hurts along there when I move."  She rubbed 
her lower arm, touched her elbow, and flexed her arm slightly. 

"Like that?"  His frown of concern returned.  She loved and 
hated that look.  She couldn't imagine herself invincible when he 
looked at her that way.  "It's okay when I flex it, but when I 
rotate... 
Ow."  She grabbed her arm protectively and swung herself into the 
car.  "It's just bruised.  Let's go."

He put the first-aid kit away and started the car.  "Are you 
sure?  Could be broken."

"Nothing's broken.  I'll be fine in a bit.  Just a little shock to 
the system."

*~*~*~*~*~
It wasn't fine.  Mulder could tell as they drove along, but he 
knew there was no way he would be able to tell her that.  She was 
just going to have to figure it out.  He could just sense the motion 
as she tried to rotate her arm.  She was wincing, he was sure, but 
he knew it was better not to look at her.  She'd hate that.  She 
always hated being hurt.  So did he, but he could see the virtues of 
letting her run her hands over him, checking for injuries.  Had he 
ever faked one?  Not that he could remember, but he'd probably 
malingered once or twice, just to enjoy the sensation of her fingers 
on his forehead or in his hair.  <<Hey, I forgot to check for fever.  
Guess she wouldn't have bought that anyway.  There, that was 
definitely a little gasp.  She knows it's not supposed to feel that 
way.  Now just how long before she agrees to an x-ray?>>

"You want to do another interview, Scully, or should we just 
call it a day?  The next one is a little out of the way."

"That's fine.  Let's do another one.  The sooner we wrap 
these up the sooner we return to civilization."

"It's actually kind of pretty out here, Scully.  Quiet.  Wouldn't 
mind if we stayed an extra day or two."  He smiled at her and her 
expression softened.  Keep away from her injury.  That was the key 
now.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Mulder flipped through a year-old Sports Illustrated, trying 
not to look at his watch.  <<She's been in the consulting room of 
this clinic for an hour.  Looks like the injury is more serious than 
she 
said.  Hope they're not doing anything drastic to her, it will put 
her 
off her feed.>> He pitched the magazine on the table and stretched 
his legs out, crossing his arms across his chest. They'd been 
having a good time out here in western Colorado, driving around to 
isolated hamlets, tracking rumors of exotic animals smuggled from 
abroad for resale over the Internet.  Not one of their heavier 
cases, 
maybe, but a chance to spend a lot of time in the car with Scully.  
He could watch her out of the corner of his eye and mostly she 
didn't even realize it.  Besides, there was always a possibility 
that 
some of the smuggled animals might contain genetic information 
that would tie them into alien visits.  He and Scully had been 
talking 
about that just before she fell.  <<Arguing, actually.  Arguing.  
That's probably what's going on right now.  She's trying to talk 
them 
out of their diagnosis.  Good luck, Mister ER Doctor.>>  He closed 
his eyes and relaxed.

"Mulder.  Mulder, let's go."

His eyes popped open.  <<Did I really fall asleep?>>  He 
looked up at the cross expression on Scully's face.  His eyes 
drifted 
down to her arm, now encased in a thick, white plaster cast.  <<Oh-
oh.  End of the happy camping.>>

"A cast?"

"They think I tore a ligament and insisted on putting on 
this...thing."  The insult was clear in her voice.  "I tried to 
explain to 
them that the x-ray was ambiguous and the diagnosis entirely 
speculative.  But they wouldn't let me leave without it."  She swung 
the arm around.  "Ow."

"I hope you didn't harm anyone back there with that thing."

"I was tempted, believe me."  A tentative smile vanished 
quickly from her face.   "I'll bet you anything that when we get 
home, real doctors are going to tell me that this is totally 
counterproductive."

"You want to go to Denver or someplace?"

"No.  I *will manage.  Let's just get this case over with and go 
home."

<<Yup.  End to the happy camping all right.>>

~*~*~*~*~*~

Mulder jogged from the office of the Happy-Go-Lucky Motel 
back to the car.  He shook two keys at her.  "Your choice, Scully.  
You wanna sleep on the right or left."

"That's old, Mulder."  She smiled as she took one of the 
keys.  "But thanks for trying."  

((How do we always end up in these places?  Frayed curtains, 
threadbare carpet, bedside lamp with a wire coming loose 
more often than not. Haven't any motels been built since the '50s?))  
Mulder drove a little way down the row of rooms and pulled 
up in from of numbers 20 and 21.  ((He's looking at me.  He's trying 
to figure out how much help he can offer without driving me insane.  
I had to ask him to cut up my food at the restaurant.  He'll 
probably remind me of it a hundred times when he wants to get to 
me.))  She looked out the window.  ((No, he won't.  He won't rub it 
in.  Not something like this.  But I just need to take care of 
myself.  I better get out before he decides to rush around and get 
my door.))

He sat in the driver's seat until she had slammed her door, 
then got out and took the bags from the trunk.  They went to their 
rooms, adjoining as usual.  Scully fumbled a little with her key, 
but kept at it until it turned.  Mulder hesitated before entering 
his room.

"Scully.  If you need any help, just call.  OK?"

She nodded and closed her door behind her.

~*~*~*~*~*
The knock came just minutes later.  He walked over to the 
connecting door and opened it.  Scully stood with her back to him.  
"I need you to help."

He stared at her back.  "You need me to?"

She tugged at her sweater.  <<Oh.  Oh-oh.>>

"Sure.  Let me do this."  He rubbed the edge of her top 
between his fingers.  <<Soft.  And delicate. A lot like she must 
feel.>>  He gently pulled it over her head, then helped peel it over 
the cast, trying not to let it catch on the rough edges.  "There you 
go."  He handed her the sweater and started to close the door.

"Mulder."

"What?"

"I can't reach..."

He looked at her back.  <<Her bra. Black at that. She can't reach 
the hooks.  Geez.>>  He wiped his hands on his shirt and carefully 
undid the clasp, trying not to touch her.  "That it?"

"Yeah.  Thanks."

She closed her door and a minute later he heard the water 
running. <<Thin walls.  What else is new with these places?>> The 
water stopped.  He went back to his reading, trying to banish the 
memory of unhooking her bra.  <<Purely a professional courtesy.  
She'd do the same for me.  Sort of.  I mean whatever might be the 
equivalent.  Isn't there something on tv?>>

A few minutes later, another rap sounded on the door.  Just 
her face showed through the narrow gap she had opened her own 
side. "Mulder.  Mulder, I can't wash my hair or bathe with this 
thing on."  There was a long pause.  "I can't ask anyone else.  I 
want your complete clinical detachment."

<<Clinical detachment?  To bathe you? Ask me something 
easier, Scully.  Ask me to cut off an arm or a leg.  Ask me to 
believe everything your science says.  Ask me to team up with 
Smokey.>> 

"Clinical detachment?  Sure.  I once got a merit badge in..."

"Right, Mulder.  I don't want to know about it."

*~*~*~*~*~
((Sure, she thought.  Sure, like hell, sure.  Still I'm not going 
to go around smelling.  And the dust.  I can *feel the dust in my 
hair.  There's no choice really. I'll just maintain the clinical 
detachment for both of us.  He'll know that.  He won't have any 
choice.))  "Just wait two minutes, Mulder, then come in."

*~*~*~*~*
He watched the second hand sweep around twice, then 
walked into Scully's room and pushed open the door to her 
bathroom.  The tub was screened by a plain muslin curtain, 
yellowed with waterstains at the bottom.  "You in here?"

"Yes, I'm in the tub."  He squatted down alongside and 
contemplated the curtain for a moment.  Placing his hands against 
the cloth, he grabbed her lightly through the fabric.

"Ack!  Mulder, that curtain is mildewy."

"What am I supposed to do?  This isn't clinical detachment.  
This is purdah."

"Purdah?"

"Yeah, I saw a documentary once about bathing in Iran.  It 
was just like this."

"You did not.  There is no such program."

"Sure there is.  It was on one of my premium channels.  You 
probably don't subscribe."

Silence.  He thought he heard her sigh. "Okay, Mulder.  
You've made your point.  Open the curtain."

He  pulled it back, tugging a bit where the loops caught on a 
flaw in the curtain rod.  Sitting before him was his partner, knees 
pulled up to her chest holding a washcloth against her breasts.  Her 
right arm rested on the edge of the tub next to him and she looked 
straight ahead.  <<Why not just wear a swimsuit, Scully? I thought 
this might be fun, now I'm not so sure.>>  He dipped his hand in the 
water and fished around, stroking her foot and thigh.

"What are you doing?"  She finally turned to look at him.

"Looking for the soap."  He gave her what he hoped was an 
innocent smile.

"It's right here."  She reached over to the soap dish and 
grabbed the miniature bar of Ivory and dropped it into his hand.  

Mulder unwrapped it slowly, and turned it over in his hand.  "I 
dunno, Scully.  I can't promise much in the way of results with this 
little bit of soap."

"I'm not that dirty.  Let's just wrap this up quickly."  

*~*~*~*~*
((I'm hot, dusty, smelly, sticky and frustrated as hell about 
this stupid cast.  Three weeks.  I'm going to have to figure out 
some other way of managing.  We can't have bathtime every night.  It 
would drive both of us insane.))  She pulled her knees a little more 
tightly against her body.  ((So look.  Go ahead.  There's nothing to 
see.  No, don't look at me that way.  You promised.))

*~*~*~*~*~
<<Testy, aren't we?  Well, maybe you need more scrubbing 
than you think.>>  He folded the bathmat and shifted to his knees.  
"How about we start right here.  This is probably a problem 
for you to reach."  He lathered up his hands and began at her 
shoulders, slowly stroking them, drawing circles around her 
shoulder blades.  Almost at once, Scully interrupted, "Better use 
the washcloth."   

"You have the only one right there.  Care to hand it over?"  

She let out her breath.  "No, I'll keep it.  You go ahead."  

<<Point for the visiting team,>> he said to himself.  Focusing 
on her skin, he let his hands slip down her back then slowly wiggle 
upward.  Up and down his hands moved, treating him to the feel of 
each ripple and curve in her back.  <<How do women manage to 
be so smooth?>>  He returned to her shoulders and began 
kneading the muscles, feeling her tenseness beneath his fingers. 

*~*~*~*~*
((That feels surprisingly good.  When was the last time 
someone really scrubbed my back?  Rubbed every knot and 
muscle.  Where did you learn to do that? I feel your strength and 
something else, too.  Did you earn a merit badge in massage, 
Mulder?  From whom?  Never mind. ))

"Ummmm."  Did I say that, Scully thought with a start.  God, 
detachment, detachment. 

*~*~*~*~*
"Ummmm."  <<Did I just hear that?  I'm keeping my sounds 
to myself.  Don't want to get the boot from Miss Detachment here.  
There, now that's my spot.>>  His hands had slipped down to her 
lower back, right at the base of her spine where he always felt he 
could lay a hand to guide her and to mark off his claim to anyone 
who might be watching them.  <<My spot. Much better without the 
wool. I'm saving this for future reference.>>

*~*~*~*~*
((That's the spot where he always puts his hand.  Never felt 
quite like that before.))  The circular massage felt good, a little 
exciting even.  His hand slipped farther down to the top of her ass.  
"Mulder..." she issued a little warning growl.  

"Come on Scully, you really can't reach down here, can you?  
You gave me an assignment and I'm trying to be thorough."  He 
leaned closer and she felt his breath on her ear.  "If I do a good 
job, maybe you'll recommend me to your friends."

"If you do a good job, I'll never recommend you to my 
friends."  ((God, did I really say that?))   She felt her face color 
and leaned forward to rest her forehead on her knees.  ((Maybe he 
didn't hear me.))

*~*~*~*~*
<<Did she really say that?  Must have.  She's hiding her 
face.>>  

He scooped up some water and drizzled it over her shoulder.  
Once.  Twice. Three times.  Now both hands were in the water, 
rubbing along the sides of her hips.  He'd dropped the soap, but 
who cares?  Bringing his hands out of the water, he traced lightly 
up her sides under her arms, up and down, memorizing the curve 
of her waist and letting his fingertips lightly brush the outer 
roundness of her breasts.  <<Like to live dangerously, he thought.  
Just keep that up.>>  He couldn't resist.  <<One more time. >> 

"Mulder?"

"Just about done here, Scully.  Shall I get a mirror so you 
can check quality work?"  

*~*~*~*
She smiled a little, and rubbed her left hand across the back 
of her neck.  "That's just fine, Mulder, thanks a lot.  I think, I 
can handle..."

He had shifted himself over to his right and lifted her foot out 
of the water.  "Looks like this foot could use a little washing 
action. Where's that soap?"  He groped around and before she could 
say anything, he pulled it up out of the water.  "There we go.  Now 
let's just take care of all that dust."  Slowly he massaged her 
foot, pressing his thumbs to the ball and rubbing slowly.  

"I think I can manage to wash my feet."  

"Not like this.  Just lean back a little.  I can be trusted with 
your *feet, can't I?"

((I'm not sure you can, Mulder.))  Still she shifted her hips so 
she could lean against the back of the tub.  ((This is a ridiculous 
case.  There's nothing to make it an X-File.  Why did it come to us?  
Why did Mulder agree so quickly to go trekking off to the farthest 
boondocks where even the doctors are locked in the nineteenth 
century?  We've been driving around for three or four days, trying 
to talk to isolated hermits about animals that don't exist.  So far 
we haven't come up with enough to make a credible report.  How many 
more names does he have in that notebook of his anyway?))

She came to with a start.  His hands were now on her leg, 
slowly moving up and down the calf, now rubbing the knee.  He 
was looking down with intense concentration.  ((Is all that energy 
going into clinical detachment?  I wasn't sure he could do it.  Now 
this is a pleasant surprise.))  She leaned back again, just as his 
hands moved past her knee and slowly moved up her thigh.  He 
kneaded the back of her leg, then slowly slid his hand to stroke her 
strong inner thighs. Her breathing was getting quick and shallow.  
She stared at him.  He continued to focus on his labors, but she 
could see that his breath was quickening, too.  "Mulder?  Mulder?"

*~*~*~*
<<I think that's my name.>>  He was focusing hard on her 
thigh, inching up, intensely aware of how close he was to...

"Mulder?"  

<<Dammit it *is my name.>>  "Ummm, yes Scully?"

"Maybe the other *foot."

<<I don't like the way she said foot.  Still, I aim to please.  
Not much soap left here  Hope we have enough to finish the job.  
Still some important work to be done, if...>>  He washed her left 
leg 
more quickly, daring just a little run up the thigh.  <<She's 
smiling.  Must have done all right on that one.>>

"Thank you, Mulder."

"Not quite done yet, Scully."  He was back at her side again, 
looking down into her eyes.

"How so?"

"You can't really wash your left side with your arm like that."

He reached around her back, and slowly stroked her left 
side, reaching up under her arm and down past her waist.  He 
shifted to be able to reach farther and outlined the edge of her 
breast with his fingers.  "This isn't working so well.  Let me try 
this angle. "  She was still holding the washcloth over her chest.  
He lathered up his right hand and slowly slid it up under the cloth 
and spread his hand across her breast.  "There, that's better." 
 
<<That look of shock.  Is she going to stop me?  No, I think 
she's enjoying this in spite of herself.>>  Round and round he 
circled it, then cupped it in his hand, spreading his fingers across 
and squeezing gently.  He rubbed his thumb around the nipple, by 
now raised and hard. He ran the palm of his hand over it lightly, 
the tantalizing feeling reaching his groin immediately.  <<I can't 
believe she's letting me do this.>> He dropped his lips to her 
shoulder and kissed it, then kissed again slightly higher, 
working his way to her neck.  As his hand reached down to stroke her 
right breast, he met her lips, slowly first and then with passion 
returned, lips parted, inhaling each others' breaths.  <<Did it ever 
feel so good to breathe?>>

"I think my breasts are clean now."  She pulled back from 
him but the expression on her face was dizzy, dazed.

"Yeah, I guess they are.  His hand slid down her stomach, 
feeling the folds in her abdomen as she sat forward.  His finger 
circled into her navel and, slowly, tentatively lower into the curls 
between her legs.  She did not pull back from the kiss, now 
renewed, so he pushed further, finding quickly the spot he wanted, 
stroking it gently.  She shuddered as he reached his goal and 
pressed her tongue into his mouth.

*~*~*~*
((Why am I letting you stroke my body this way?  Because 
it's you?  Why am I following along with your pretext?  It's just a 
pretext, Mulder.  We both know that.  Do I need you to caress me 
as much as you seem to want to touch?  Wait, wait, I can't let go.  
One of us has to keep a foot in reality.  We can't go down that 
other road.  You know that.  Our goal is too important.  We'll 
combust. This is just a hormonal response, isn't it?  The old 
prehistoric biology kicking in.  Genes fighting for survival, little 
brutes who do not understand time, place, purpose, mission, 
infertility.  Infertility. Your lips on mine.  Soft.  Tentative.  
Your pheromones seeking to overwhelm my rational analysis.  Your 
breath in my mouth.  Inhaled.  Savored.  Your finger in my secret 
place. My tongue in your mouth.  Stop!))

*~*~*~*
Suddenly, she pulled back.  Had he hurt her?  Somehow he 
didn't think hurt was the reason for her reaction. "Mulder, we 
shouldn't be doing this."

"I left 'should' behind a long time ago."

"You promised me..."

"I was a fool."  He reached his free hand around the back of 
her head and lifted her hair to kiss her there.  His other hand 
remained pressed up against her labia.  "Mulder, where are you 
going?"

"I think I'm moving from want to need, Scully.  What about 
you?"

He felt her hand on top of his.  "Mulder, stop it.  We can't do 
this."

"We can if we choose to."

"No.  We're partners, not... You promised me clinical 
detachment."

"I can't.  You can't expect me not to be aroused by you.  You 
can't imagine that I can run my hands over the woman I love and 
not want her."  He trailed his hand down her leg and looked away.

"Well, then don't touch me.  That will solve the problem. I 
have to maintain the detachment for both of us, I guess." 

"You weren't so detached a minute ago."

"I am now. We can't let ourselves become lovers.  Just... put 
it away. " She almost swallowed the last words and looked down 
into the cloudy bath water.

"How?"

"I don't know.  Repress it."

"It doesn't work that way."

"We can't, Mulder.  You know that."  She still refused to look 
at him.

"Maybe I don't." He rose.

She grabbed her washcloth from the water and pulled it 
back, inadequately, across her chest.  She struggled to stand and 
realized with annoyance, that there was no way she could maintain 
a bit of modesty and stand up at the same time.  Not with her right 
arm out of action.  "Help me, please."  Her mumble was low, almost 
incomprehensible.

"What?"

"Help me.  Help me stand up."

"You told me to keep my hands off."

"Well, I just need a little help. OK?  Just keep it clean." 

"I was keeping it clean.  Everything I did was clean, Scully.  It 
was loving.  Don't you know how to deal with that? Or is it *me you 
object to?"

"Mulder, stop."

He stood back, arms crossed, watching her for a minute, 
almost content with her struggle.  <<You want to be on your own, 
you can be on your own.  You don't want my love OR help.  You 
never have.>>  He glared at her, nursing his resentment.  <<This 
gets me nowhere.>>  He sighed and grabbed her under the 
shoulder and helped her rise.  She stood, no longer bothering with 
the pretense of the washcloth.

"You can leave now.  Thank you for your assistance."

He glared once more and she heard the bathroom door slam, then its 
echo as he returned to his room.  "We can't, Mulder," she whispered.
.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Later, a hesitant knock and her voice through the door.  "Mulder, 
are you there?  I need another favor."  

He muted the sound on the baseball game.  <<Another 
favor.  Boy, this must be taking a lot out of her.>>  

"Sorry, I'm all out of detachment," he shouted.

"No, I just need... Do you have a clean t-shirt?"

"Why?"

"My pajama shirt won't go on over this cast.  I haven't got 
anything else."

<<You could sleep nude.>> He stopped at the thought.  He 
wasn't going to say it. "Unfortunately they're all used.  I forgot 
about the laundromat after your fall.  You'll be ok.  Alone."  
<<Maybe I put a little too much stress on alone.>>

He turned the sound back on.  There was the knock again.

"Mulder.  I want to talk with you."

"Well, come in and talk."

"I haven't got anything to wear."

He sighed.  It was a reasonable request.  He took off his 
Knicks shirt.  "Open the door."

She opened it a crack and he handed her the shirt.  "I've just 
had it on for a couple hours.  It's the best I can do."

*~*~*~*
She nodded and closed the door.  ((OK, he's in a funk.  That's to be 
expected. Still, now he understands, even if he doesn't 
like it.  We can't simply do what we want.  Doesn't he realize I 
tell myself that, too?  Over and over.))  She pulled the shirt 
slowly over the cast, then over her head and finally pushed her left 
arm through the sleeve.  It was warm from him.  The intimacy of it 
surprised her.  It smelled like him, too.  All those times that he 
stood too close to her or hung over her shoulder or hugged her.  It 
smelled like the time she feared he was dead and then he was 
suddenly there in the Senate hearing room.  She ran her hands down 
it and opened the door. 

Mulder was sitting on the bed, shirtless, wearing only boxers.  
Of course, she had forgotten that would be the case. She walked 
over slowly, keeping her eyes down, and sat on the edge, facing 
away from him.  

"Mulder, I'm sorry, but we forgot something." ((Please be 
kind, Mulder.  Please just help me.))

*~*~*~*
<<Forgot something?  I haven't forgotten anything.  Not a 
moment of it.  Especially not the end.>>

She held her arm up, holding a bottle of shampoo.  "We 
didn't wash my hair."

<<Scully, you have got to be crazy.>>  "Does it need it?"

She nodded silently, then added redundantly.  "I'm afraid it 
does. It was pretty dusty out there."  She stood up from the bed.  
"Can we use your bathroom? My towels are wet."

<<Maybe my towels are wet, too, Scully.  Think of that?  And 
did you ever think that my room might be out of cold water?  Did 
*that occur to you?  But you want the game on your terms, I guess I 
can play now that I understand.>>  

He snorted a little as he breathed out.  "I have a shower, not 
a tub.  You'll have to stick your arm through the door."  Still 
looking away from him, she nodded and rose. He saw her shoulders 
hunch up with tension as he continued in his slightly acid tone, "So 
let me get this straight.  I am going to wash your hair while you 
get my last semi-clean t-shirt soaked because I can't be trusted."

She put the shampoo down on the night stand and pulled her left arm 
down through the sleeve, then lifted the rest of the shirt 
over her head.  It hung from her right arm, just above the cast.  He 
sat staring at her naked back. 

 <<Why are you doing this to me?  Put the shirt back on, I'm 
sorry I said anything.>>  His eyes settled on that spot, his spot, 
in her lower back and he wanted to reach out and kiss it softly.  
Then his glance dipped lower, admiring the curves of her hips and 
ass that he had traced under the water.  He wanted to touch her 
again.  To feel his fingers slip inside her panties to glide across 
her smooth skin and knead her muscles.  He wanted...he wanted her to 
go back to her room if she required detachment.

"Mulder?  Help me out here."  She shook her arm to indicate 
the shirt.  He got up and gently lifted the sleeve around the cast.  

"Ok, go get in the shower.  Call me when you're ready."

*~*~*~*
((Rats.  There's only one way to stand in this shower.))  She 
turned around a couple times before concluding that if the cast was 
going to stay dry, she was going to have to stand with her back to 
the shower, facing the door, facing Mulder, so her arm could stick 
out of the enclosure.  ((Why?  Why did he have to bring trust into 
it?)) She turned on the water. ((Yow!  Too cold.))  A little nudge 
to the left. She jumped away a little.  ((Too hot.  Just my luck 
this is one of those precision controls.  One spot, one micron wide 
gets you the right temperature.))  She cursed the whole enterprise 
and settled on a setting just a little cooler than she wanted.
"Now,"  she shouted.  

She saw his form through the frosted glass door:  darkness 
on top, then his face  blurred like the confidential confessions on 
tv, then a long stretch of flesh -- he hadn't put on another shirt -
- and below that blue.  ((Looks like he's wearing jeans now. Good.  
Good sign.))

*~*~*~*
He put the shampoo down on the sink and tried to size up 
the situation.   Her cast was sticking out the half-closed door, and 
he could make her out well enough to see that she was facing him.  
Water was splashing onto the floor.  "Scully, you're splashing up my 
bathroom."

"Sorry, I tried adjusting.  It's the best I can do."

He looked at the cast again and at her fingers, flexing 
slightly, probably involuntarily.  <<It's heavy holding it like 
that. I ought to be merciful and get this over with.  *One of us 
ought to be merciful. >>

He opened the door and the spray hit him at once.  "Geez, Scully.  
I'm going to get soaked.  Can't you fix that thing?"

She reached up to tug at the showerhead and he admired 
the way her breast moved as she lifted her arm.  Firm.  Round.  Did 
the nipple harden a little under his gaze or was he imagining that?  
He bit his lip slightly as he watched.  His eyes slid down her body 
to the site of his earlier transgression.  <<You can't ask me not to 
look.  You can't ask me not to be human.>>

*~*~*~*
"This thing must be rusted into place.  Can't budge it, sorry."
She glanced back at him, noticing where his eyes rested in 
the split second before he turned back to her face.  ((Guilty, 
Mulder.  Don't even try to deny it.))  

There was water beaded on his chest and the front of his 
jeans had already darkened from the spray.  Her eyes lingered just 
there, taking in the unmistakable sign of his reaction to her.  
((He's watching me absorb this.  He's enjoying himself, I know he 
is.))  Her voice was slightly rough when she managed to sputter, 
"Shut the door.  This isn't going to work."  

She leaned against the side wall.  ((How can I do this?  Just 
the weight of his gaze is too much, loaded with the memory of his 
touch, stroking and warming.  Ow, this thing is heavy.))  Her arm 
sagged a bit through the door and Mulder caught it, taking the 
weight of it from her.  ((He can be so sweet when he chooses.  Why 
does he have to be a jerk other times?)) 

"Any more smart ideas in there?"

((Like right now.  Thank you for reminding me that I have a 
problem.  My hair is soaked.  There's no alternative to washing it.  
I'm not going around with muddy hair.))  

*~*~*~*
<<So, what's the plan, Scully?  You tell me.  This is your 
problem.  I'm not going to take any more initiatives here.  You know 
where I stand.  You don't want that, then all right.  But please 
don't make the hurt worse.  Don't pretend it isn't there.  I felt 
your lips press back against mine.  I felt you shudder.>>  He put 
his hand under her forearm.  <<This is a heavy thing.  Old-
fashioned.  Take your time, I'll hold it up.>>

"Any more smart ideas in there?" <<I bet she didn't like that.  
Hmmm.  She looked when the door was open.  I saw how her glance 
lingered.  We both know.  Maybe she's just kidding herself about 
what she wants. Give yourself a break, Miss Clinical Detachment.  
Life doesn't go on forever.  Correction.  This bath goes on forever.  
This must be the longest bath-hairwash marathon in history.  The 
creepy guy at the reception desk is going to come pounding on the 
door any minute now for all the water we're using. Never mind, take 
your time.  Figure it out.  There's only one solution, but it's not 
coming from me.>> 

He looked down at the puddle spreading across the floor.  <<I guess 
I should have picked up the bath towels.  All we've got 
now is the hand towel.  Somebody is not going to be pleased.  
Come on now. It isn't that hard.  Is there more than one choice?  
Geez, what if she decides to shave her head?  She's just contrary 
enough to do it.  That would be a real loss.>>

*~*~*~*
((I suppose I could shave my head.  God, I'm losing my 
mind.  I am not shaving my head.  There is a simple solution.  
Mulder understands what demeanor I expect.  We are grown 
people.  We have seen each others' bodies before.  We are 
partners.  Friends.  We can handle this in a mature way.  Simple. 
He will step in, pour shampoo in his hand, lather up my head, run 
his hand through my hair to rinse it, slide his hand farther down my 
back, pull me against him, press...this is not going to work.))
Silence.  Gloom.

*~*~*~*
Gloom. Silence.

*~*~*~*
Scully sighed to herself. ((If we let it happen just once, no 
one would know.  It would just be momentary insanity.  We'd close 
the door on it.  Who am I kidding?))  She lifted her foot to rub it.  
((God, I'm getting all wrinkled.  My skin.  His skin.  There, that's 
it.  There *is a way out. Why didn't I see it?))

*~*~*~*
<<If she would only let it happen, it might be the 
breakthrough.  We wouldn't have to pretend any more.  *She 
couldn't pretend any more.  At least I think she's been pretending.  
She had those fantasies.  The ones that guy--what's was his name?  
Philip?  Phil? Frank?  I've repressed *that all right--that he was 
writing about.  She denied it, but she's a bad liar.  Maybe they 
weren't about him, that's all. Right. All right.>>

"Mulder?"  

"Yeah?"

"You're going to have to come in here with me."

"OK."  He let go of her arm and it dropped.  "Sorry.  Forgot to 
warn you."

"It's ok.  Thanks for holding it."

*~*~*~*
She watched him turn away from her and start to unzip his 
jeans.  ((No, no, no, no, no.))  "Mulder, you don't have to get 
undressed.  Just come in like that."  ((Sorry, I didn't mean to 
sound panicked.))

"I am not getting my jeans soaked in the shower.  Be 
reasonable."  They slid to the floor. 

~*~*~*~*
<<Leave them on? Little Miss Rationality is losing it.  What's 
a little nudity between repressed best friends?>>  

Mulder finished undressing, opened the door, and stepped 
in.  <<That's right.  Keep your eyes focused on my face.  That way I 
won't know what you're thinking. Cozy in here, not that I'm 
complaining.   Where's the shampoo?>> 

He opened the door and stepped back across the bathroom 
to grab the shampoo from the sink.  She blinked as he turned 
around.  <<Caught you, Dana Scully.  Did you like what you saw? 
Well, I'm got going to fuss around with little washcloth disguises 
if that's what you're thinking.  This is honesty.>>

<<OK, shampoo.  We're all business here.  I unscrew the 
cap and pour it into my hand.  Sorry.  Can't help looking.  They're 
in my line of vision.  They look good in a sweater, they look better 
like this.  They feel even better than that.  Ooops.  Better not 
think about it.  I've got enough of a physical reaction already to 
deal with.>>

*~*~*~*
((Ok, Mulder.  Enough gawking. Wash already.  Don't just 
stand there with a handful of shampoo.  You know where my hair 
is.  That hair.  The hair you are allowed to wash.  Oh.))  "Here, 
I'll hold the bottle."

She put out her hand and he passed it to her.  She wasn't 
expecting the outside of the bottle to be so slippery; it slid right 
out of her hand.  They both looked down at the shampoo slowly 
glubbing down the drain. And at other things in the way.

((Oh, my, that's nice. Impressive.  I didn't mean to look. I'm 
turning beet red.  I can feel it.  I can't look at his face.  I 
can't keep looking *there.))

*~*~*~*
<<There, Scully.  Look as long as you want.  You've seen 
erections before.  What do you think?  Is that appreciation?  
Regret? Worry? It's simply a fact. You've taught me to respect 
facts. Okay, I'll put you out of your misery.>>  

"Let me get that."  

<<Nice scenery down here.  Did she say which hair she 
wanted washed?  Wait.  That's how I got in trouble last time.>>  

"Your feet are clean.  I did a good job if I say so myself."  
<<But they're getting wrinkled.  Guess we can't stay here forever.  
I'll just screw the top on nice and slowly while I enjoy the view a 
little longer.  She'd kill me, even for a quick touch.  If I could 
just graze my lips quickly against her stomach.  Nope, not worth the 
risk.  I'll just get a little leverage by putting my hand back there 
against *my spot. There, that wasn't so bad, was it, my dear?>>  

"Sorry," he breathed, letting go.  <<Her eyes are closed.  Is 
that a good sign or bad?>> 

 He raised his hands to her head and spread the shampoo 
across her hair, over the top and then down the sides. He ran his 
fingers upward from her neck, pulling her hair into the lather. 
Slowly at first, then more vigorously, he smoothed the hair back 
from her face as her ran his fingers through it again and again.  
She tipped her head forward and he rubbed two fingers just below the 
hairline in back and massaged the little round knob at the top of 
her spine.  

A stream of water tickled against his right side, then disappeared.  
There it was again, more insistent.  There was no mistaking it.  She 
had braced her hand against him.  He tipped her head to her left 
and ran his fingers through her hair, watching the bubbles slowly 
flow down to her shoulder, her breast, her stomach.  The water 
sprinkled on her face.  She looked fresh and clean.  Tentatively, he 
let his finger follow some of the bubbles down her arm and then 
others down the front.  The pressure of her hand increased and slid 
around toward his back, the top of his ass.  <<We can stay this way 
forever, as far as I'm concerned.>>

*~*~*~*
((The water's off.  He turned the water off.  I could have 
stayed here forever.))  She sighed and let out a breath, suddenly 
conscious that her left hand had strayed around to the top of his 
ass.  His erection rested against her stomach.  She opened her 
eyes.  ((Have his eyes always been that color?))  He barely 
seemed to be breathing.  Her own breaths were short and shallow.

He stepped out first and gave her his hand.  ((We made it, 
she told herself.  Not detached, exactly, but we made it through a 
shower. Together.  Naked.)) Her foot squished against the sodden 
bath mat and she looked around in surprise at his waterlogged 
bathroom.  How long had they been in there?  He was holding out 
something to her, something small and white.  A towel.

"That's a hand towel.  I need..."  She followed his gaze to 
the bath towels, heaped in the corner and soaking up water.

"That's it?" she said poking at the cloth suspended from his 
hand.

He nodded, trying to look solemn.  First he positioned the 
towel horizontally, then vertically against her.  She giggled.  
"That's *it? For the two of us?  Mulder!  You're hopeless."

He looked around and picked up a dry washcloth by its 
corner.  Another giggle, then a laugh.  Then she threw her head 
back and gave in to the ridiculous.

*~*~*~*
He stared at her for a second, then began to laugh himself.  
<<Let go, Scully.  That's right, just let go.  When was the last 
time you laughed like that?  When was the last time you let yourself 
see the humor in absurdity?  Let go.  When did we last laugh 
together like this?  Let me hear your wonderful laugh.>> She leaned 
forward against him laughing, until it trailed off into hiccups.  

He took the towel and dabbed the top of her cast and up her 
right shoulder.  She took it from him and dabbed his chin, giggling 
at him.  He took it back and rubbed it over her hair, reaching 
around with both arms to squeeze out the ends, then drizzling his 
hands down her back to see if she was ticklish.  It brought another 
round of giggles.  She lifted the towel from his hands and rubbed it 
over his shoulders, pushing him a little.  He backed up out of the 
bathroom and she followed, still dabbing at him with the now damp 
terry.  He took it back from her and flicked it at her, causing a 
little squeal.  He moved in and drew a circle around her breast with 
it.  He handed it to her and she rubbed his thigh. He pulled it 
gently from her hands and stretched it across her back and pulled 
her closer.  She put out her hand and he returned it to her.  She 
looked straight into his eyes, her own eyes sparkling, and draped it 
over his erection.  He put his hand on her wrist.  "That part 
doesn't want to be dry."

She dangled the towel in front of him.  "Well then, this little 
item has ended its usefulness."  She dropped it on the floor.

"What are we going to do without it?" he asked.

She licked a drop off his nipple.

"You do that , Scully, the water will boil away in a second."

She licked the other side.

<<What happened to 'can't,' Dana Scully? What changed 
your mind?  No, don't say.  I don't need to know.  You in my arms.  
Responding.  Leading. Willing to enjoy me, too. That's all I need.  
That's enough.>>  

She pushed him back gently onto the bed and he pulled her 
onto his lap.  She rested her cast on his shoulder and pressed her 
forehead to his.

"Scully, we're going to get the bed wet."

She pulled back and tried to look serious but he saw the 
smile break loose from her eyes.  "Yeah, I know."  And she brought 
her lips to his.

~*~*~*~*~*~
A few days later, back at the office
Mulder sat at his desk whistling and shooting rubber bands 
across the room.  The door opened and he snapped to, leaning 
over the laptop with an air of concentration.  He looked up, "Hi, 
Scully.  See your doctor?"

She nodded and closed the door.

"Where's your cast?"

"Just as I thought.  I didn't need a cast.  Dr. Benton said the 
injury will heal more quickly with moderate use."  She flexed her 
arm cautiously.

"Gee, I guess you should follow your instincts more often."

She smiled at him and gathered up a sheaf of files in her left 
arm. "I've got a meeting with the forensic lab staff.  See you 
later."

"Hey, Scully."

"Yeah?"

"Sorry you had to wear that cast for nothing."

She paused at the door and looked back at him.  "It wasn't for 
nothing, Mulder."

He smiled as the door closed behind her and shot a rubber 
band at her retreating footsteps.

 End

Zuffy