Well boys and girls, I'm back from the land of lost email addresses. The server I used to "live" at was shut down, for lack of a better description, and my world momentarily stopped. (Don't you love the drama?) For anyone who might have tried to find me ... my new address is angiegator@juno.com. As long as Juno doesn't close up shop, I should be okay. Anyway, I think I've figured out that nobody likes all this long introduction junk, so I'll just say that the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully don't belong to me (duh) and never will. I'm just playing with them ... again. Please don't sue me, oh mighty Chris. My psycho cat, Cody, *is* a guard cat and he will attack if you show up w/your goons. Oh, yeah. The story ... archivists, please post where you see fit. Just keep my name and email addy with it. Rating: NC-17 Classification: SRA ... sorta V Summary: Scully contemplates her encounter with Van Blundht and the resulting events of the month, then receives a visitor. Dedication: Yes, darn it, there is a dedication. This story is dedicated to someone who is quickly becoming a good friend ... someone I trusted to edit this story and be fair with me, but not to hedge her bets, so to speak. Leyla Harrison, if you happen to be reading this, even though you already *have* read it, thank you for your comments, as well as your patience and kindness. The story reads better because of your help. I'm dedicating this first attempt at NC-17 to you, not because it's something I feel I *should* do, but because you *deserve* to be recognized as the talented and creative person that you are. ********************************** No Reason to Hide By: Angie Patrick email: angiegator@juno.com ********************************** There's a fire burning in my home tonight and I do mean in more than one way. I lean back and tip my head to the ceiling, closing my eyes as I sigh. How did we manage to make it through this month? I open my eyes and refocus on the fireplace, then look down into the glass of white wine I am holding and wish it could give me answers to the things I've been thinking since that strange night with Mulder ... no ... with Van Blundht. In retrospect, the moment seemed a little more perfect than it should have been. I sit here now, fresh from our "visit" with Van Blundht, and wonder, for the thirtieth time, why I thought it could have been Mulder. Don't I know my partner well enough to know that the man who sat across from me on the couch that evening was not Fox Mulder? What was I thinking? It wouldn't be so damn complicated if I didn't love him. He, of course, doesn't know this. Well ... okay, maybe he knows, but we don't talk about it. I would venture to guess that the charge I feel between us sometimes isn't just a result of his guilt and need to protect. But now I digress ... Jeez ... a couple glasses of wine and my brain goes to mush. Get a grip, Dana. So, where was I? Oh, yeah. Why did I think it was him? Of course, he *looked* like Mulder, *smelled* like Mulder ... even acted *a little* like Mulder ... well, at least the intense gazing thing. Christ, he even turned those sad puppy dog eyes on me. But everything else screamed *not* Mulder. Why did I buy into Van Blundht's act? Am I that lonely that I would believe my partner would just, out of the blue, take a little action on all those well-placed innuendoes? Let's see. How many tell-tale signs were there that day that I chose to ignore? Let's start with abandoning the case before finishing it off. Not very Mulder-like. Or how about the damn report? Misspelled Federal Bureau of Investigation? Twice? How does a man who is Oxford educated mispell the name of the place he works for? Twice? Just to annoy Skinner? Maybe that *was* what I was thinking. Sure. Despite my surprise I managed to recover and finish the briefing before anything else came to light. What else, what else? Oh, when was the last time Mulder asked me what I was doing on a Friday night? Hmmmm ... and the way he said it, too. He was too ... direct. For a second I thought he was going to ask me out. That's how direct it seemed. And the look on his face when I told him I was going to Quantico to do a little work. He seemed ... crushed? *That* in itself should have been a huge tip-off. Again, I ignored it. And fumbling around for the key. Why would Mulder not know his own key set? Okay ... my fuzzy brain is taking a long time to get to the point. Forgive me. I don't drink often and, well, I'm a little buzzed so the thought process is a little slow. I needed to be buzzed for this, I guess. It's too complicated to be honest with myself when I'm sober. Oh, yeah ... ummm ... hints I chose to ignore. I think that was the point. Why did I choose to ignore all that? My only consolation here is that I know I have feelings for him, so maybe I just wrote it all off as Mulder having an off day. Or maybe I decided that for once, I'd just not analyze everything to death. Bad timing. Analysis would have prevailed here. I should have known, and maybe deep down I did. So what did I do? Oh, well, I *only* opened up to the wrong man. I mean, I thought it *was* him, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. Or maybe I'm just so starved for affection -- his affection -- that I was blind to the reality. Worse yet, he burst in just as ... just as I was about to ... oh, god ... do I need to go there again? I wish I could get the whole damn picture out of my head, but I can't. Truth of the matter is that I *wanted* that to happen. I knew I did when he slid across the couch toward me and leaned in. Yeah. I would have kissed him then. No doubt in my mind. Damn. And now? Now things are tense. No easy banter. He hasn't touched me in a month. Sometimes I reach out to touch his arm or shoulder and this look crosses his face as something changes in his eyes. I'm not quite sure what he's thinking in those seconds, but I take it as a warning and stop myself from reaching for him, even if it is innocent. I want to pick up the phone and call him, but I think he still needs more time. No ... I think we both need more time. I want to talk to him, but I don't think he's ready. Listen to me. I'm not sure I'm ready either. And I did try earlier. God, what a stupid thing to say to him. "I don't imagine I have to say this, Mulder, but you're not a loser." That made him *much* more comfortable. What the hell was I thinking? Of course, what I wanted to say was, "Hey you big lug, just because Eddie started this, doesn't mean I don't want you to finish it!" Right. Like I'd have the nerve. Mmmm ... this little bit of nonsense isn't going to disappear anytime soon. I think I'll just lay down now and rest. Rest ... if my mind will shut off, that is. Sleep sounds good right now. ******************************* Knocking ... I'm dreaming. I *was* dreaming, anyway. Shaking my head to clear the fog, I listen. Was someone just knocking or was that part of the dream? "Scully ... you there?" Oh shit. Definitely someone there. *Mulder.* Did he come over to have it out with me? Maybe that would be for the better. Maybe we just need to clear the air so *this* Monday won't feel as unproductive as the last four Mondays. I rub my eyes, run my fingers through my hair and push myself off the couch. Knocking again. Much more insistent. "Hang on, Mulder," I call out a little impatiently. Christ, why doesn't he just use the key? I check the peephole. Again. He's wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt. My dark angel. *Definitely* Mulder. Eddie didn't even really get the wardrobe right. Blue jeans? Mulder almost never wears *blue* jeans. I *must* have been insane. I feel the beginnings of a grin, but I push it down. I open the door and am met with Mulder's intent gaze. He momentarily looks down at the floor and scuffs his boot on the linoleum. When he looks back up at me, he gives me a slight smile. I am momentarily transfixed. Why the hell is he grinning at me? He's been so distant, seemingly angry with me for the past month. Why do I feel warm and wanted all of a sudden? I shake my head slightly and smile back. "Come on in, Mulder." ****************************** Scully turned away from him and headed down the short hallway. He watched her for a moment and then closed the door quietly, throwing the deadbolt without making any noise. "Sorry ... I hope I didn't wake you." "It's okay ... you saved me from an incredible backache," Scully tossed over her shoulder. She tried not to sound annoyed that he had chosen to show up in the middle of the night. "Mulder to the rescue," he quipped as he approached her quietly. Mulder slid up behind her as she paused in the living room entrance. He felt her shiver from his proximity and he closed his eyes, wondering whether that was a good or bad sign. He hadn't come here tonight to argue or sulk. He was a man on a mission and he wasn't going to leave until he completed it. It was gut-check time. Holding his breath, he raised one hand and traced a path up her arm, from hand to shoulder as he watched her face for her reaction. He could see that she knew what he was doing. He smiled and allowed his hand to rest at the top of her shoulder, in the space between her neck and shoulder blade and squeezed. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he moved his hand along the back of her arm. When his hand contacted her shoulder she tensed, but quickly relaxed under the warmth of his touch. She knew he had not come here tonight to argue or question. She still wasn't sure what he truly *did* want. Mulder moved up directly behind her and repeated his earlier action with the other hand, resting finally on her other shoulder. This time she didn't tense. He thought, though he wasn't completely sure, that she actually leaned back into his touch this time. Whatever the case, she made no move to break free. To his delight, he noted the short quick breaths she was taking. A plan took shape in his mind in a flash and he grinned at himself for thinking, for *being able* to think, so quickly when the throbbing in his groin was taking all his coherent thought away. He leaned in closer, until their bodies were touching. "You're so tense, Scully ... I can help with that, if you'll let me ...," he whispered into her ear, and rolled her tight muscles in his hands once for greater effect. His hot breath on her ear sent a wave of sparks along her nerve endings and she felt herself becoming warmer, correction -- hotter -- and definitely wet. She smiled at herself wondering where on earth *Agent Scully* had disappeared to. She seemed to have exited stage left and in her place was Dana ... hmmm ... Dana the buzzed, horny, little redhead, just dying to get *way* under Mulder's skin. Yeah. She fought the urge to giggle. What the hell was she *thinking*? "Okay," was the only word she could form. He didn't say a word then. Starting on the tight muscles stretching across her shoulders, he began his warm and soothing assault as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to forget all the trouble of the past month. The sad looks, the cutting comments, the lack of physical contact. She rolled her neck and sighed as he began to work his way down her back. *This* was beginning to feel *very* good and *very* sensual. She even thought she could feel his mouth connecting with the space between the curve of her neck and the slope of her shoulder. She inhaled sharply and her eyes flew open, stunned. That *was* his mouth. Right? She tensed all over again. She felt him stop for a moment and then felt his hot breath coming rapidly against her neck. It wasn't that she didn't want him to do this. It was that she didn't understand why this was happening now, considering everything that was going on between them. He stilled his hands on her back, then lightly ran them back up to her shoulders, where he once again rested them. His feathery touch on her body sent another shiver through her, but she smiled to herself and idly wondered what that same motion would feel like on her bare back. Scully relaxed again and closed her eyes. "Did you like that?" Mulder asked, his voice raspy and heavy with something she couldn't quite place. Need? Desire? She smiled and considered his question. Purposely vague? "Hmm ... the massage or ...," she swallowed hard and finished. "Or the kiss?" "Both." She couldn't take not being able to see his eyes anymore. Never before had she been so eager to look into his eyes and never before had she felt so damn frightened at the same time. She turned slowly to face him. He was looking down into her eyes, through her, and she smiled self-consciously. "Yes." It was all the encouragement he needed. So he leaned over and did it again. Only now it left her feeling twice as giddy as she had felt moments ago. Now she was watching him. When he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly against him, against his obvious erection, she shuddered. Now she could *feel* him, too. Every square inch of him. "Like this?" "Yeah," she purred. She had nearly forgotten how it felt to play *this* game. She liked it. He paused and pulled back, grinning at her, shaking his head. "No ... I'm asking for directions, ..." "Oh," she said and giggled. Her brain hadn't quite processed the question he had been asking. "Mulder ... I don't come with a manual, you know. Why don't you just play it by ear and see where it goes." "Just trying to get it right. It's important," he said very seriously. "Mmm ... I can see that. But I think you already know what you're doing, Mulder." "Do I?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even. "Mmmhmm. Definitely." He watched as her desire transformed her features, softening her eyes, adding a little bit of wistfulness to the seductive upturn of her lips. He stood there in front of her, wondering whether she could see what he was feeling at that moment. So alive, so loved, so wanted. Without another word and a quick nod of his head, he leaned down and claimed her mouth. She rose up on her toes and met him, flicking her tongue across his full lower lip before he opened his mouth to her. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and played with the soft hairs she found there as he deepened the kiss. His mouth moved over hers with a tenderness that surprised her. She had always thought this first kiss, if it ever happened, would be rough and frantic. Not like this. A shiver of delight ran through his body as he felt her fingers lacing through the hairs on the back of his neck. When he felt her press herself into him as fully as possible, he thought he was going to explode. But then, that was before he realized she was pulling his shirt out of his jeans. Finally realizing what she was doing, he pulled away a little and reached out to still her hands. Puzzled blue eyes met hazel eyes. "Take it slow, Scully, we've got all night," he said, his voice raspy and low. Inwardly he cringed at the way he sounded. So needy, wanting. He thought it almost sounded like pain. "I know," she said, relaxing. For a second, she thought she had made the wrong move. He released her hands and she watched him as he descended on her again, his lips finding first her throat, then her jawline. She tipped her head up, giving him better access. While he assaulted her neck and throat with his hot, wet kisses, she reached under his shirt and drew imaginary patterns on his chest, then reached around and did the same to his back. He thought his skin was going to ignite every time she touched him. He was burning alive. Everywhere she touched, she left a trail of fire. The shirt was going to have to come off very soon. "Ooooh, Scully ... I wish I'd known years ago that you could do that ...," he groaned into her ear as she continued working on his back. "Hmmm ... I wish I'd known years ago you wanted me to try," she quipped. "And you know, this would be so much easier if you didn't have this damn shirt on. I mean, black is very sexy on you and all, but ... " She didn't have to say another word. He shed the shirt before she could finish the sentence, and pulled him back to her, kissing her fiercely. "Is this better?" he asked in a pause between kisses. "Much." ******************** I feel his kisses becoming more urgent. I am no fool. I shut my eyes. I know the limits of my own body and I'm quickly reaching them. I want to tear off the remainder of his clothes, but I don't want him to learn about that little wild woman just yet. I want that to be a surprise when we get where we're going. I think it'll be more effective that way. He is watching me now. I feel his eyes on me. Loving eyes. Wanting eyes. I'm not afraid to think it anymore. I open my eyes again and fix them on his. He is smiling. I can't help but to return his quirky lopsided grin with one of my own. All of a sudden, I feel so shy and *so young*, it's unbelievable. "How about me?" I ask, a sly grin breaking out on my face. He stares at me for a moment then slides his hands up my body and across my chest, stopping at the first button on my blouse. As he unbuttons my blouse slowly, carefully, with shaking hands, he claims my mouth again, stroking the inside of my mouth with his curious tongue. In a flash I realize he is memorizing me. For only a second I recall that I am dying and his exploration tonight will commit me to his eidetic memory forever. It is a somber thought in an otherwise thrilling moment and I push it away just as quickly as it comes to me. I don't want to stop this. I need it. He needs it. We need this time together, like this, no matter how short it may come to be. "Need help?" I offer in a short gasp between kisses. I am not impatient, just concerned that maybe this whole turn of events has begun to overwhelm Mulder. "Uh-uh," he grunts and then grins at me, a devilish sparkle in his eyes. "Didn't know you were into rushing, Scully." "I'm not," I mumble. "You're shaking ... thought maybe you wanted a little help," I say, looking into his eyes. The meaning is not lost on Mulder. He knows without my telling him that I don't want him to feel like he has to act on anything tonight. I've waited this long. I can wait a little longer if he's not really ready for this. "Mmm ... you noticed ... " and before I say anything more he has the last button undone. He studies me and then strokes my cheek first with the back of his hand, then with his fingertips. I watch him, watch the way the emotions play on his features, how they smooth his normally worried brow, how they soften his eyes. I realize at this moment that I am thankful for whatever time I have left on this earth. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, breaking me from my thoughts. I feel the sting of tears in my eyes as my mouth pulls into a huge smile. I tend to never think about how I look when I'm with Mulder. He has just made me a little self-conscious and I blush. "Really, Scully ... you're the most beautiful woman I know. In more ways than I can count. You're not *just* physically attractive, you're beautiful on the inside, too. Attractive, smart, sexy, loving, compassionate ..." his voice falters a little and tears threaten. "Nobody's ever said that to me," I say quietly. It's true. Jack was a bastard. He knew how to turn me on, but he never knew how to love me. And he certainly didn't tell me anything like that. "Really?" he asks softly, incredulous at my admission. "You're kidding, right? I would have thought *all* the guys would have said stuff like that to you hoping for a shot." "No, I'm not kidding. Nobody's ever said that to me, except now ... you ..." my voice breaks on the "you." The tears are threatening now and I know he can see them. "They were fools, Scully, ... look what they lost," he says and reclaims my mouth. This kiss is slow and careful, but more powerful than the passionate kisses of a few minutes ago. I feel all my pent up emotions let loose while he explores my mouth, touching my bare skin confidently under the blouse he so shakily unbuttoned minutes ago. His hands catch me a little by surprise when I feel them drift over my sensitive stomach muscles and I moan into his mouth. I feel him smile at my reaction and he repeats the action again. He breaks the kiss for a moment and watches me. "Feel good?" "Yeah ... " It's about all I can manage to get out. Good? Fantastic. Try fantastic, Mulder. He pushes the blouse off my shoulders and his touch on my shoulder sends another shiver through me. I feel myself trembling. I am somewhat uncomfortable under his intense gaze. "Now look who's shaking," he says softly. "I ... I didn't know this would be so ... so intense." He runs his fingertips down my arm to find my hand again, then steps back a little. "We can stop if--" he says. "No." "No?" His eyes betray his intention. I know he just wants to hear the words. "Don't stop. I don't want you to leave tonight." He smiles and pulls me back to him, into his arms, holding me close. "Okay ... Can we move this into the bedroom?" he whispers into my ear. I trace an imaginary pattern on his chest and note with absolute satisfaction that goose bumps are forming everywhere on him. "Not sure I can wait that long," I say, an evil grin spreading on my face. To punctuate my words I take his small male nipple in my mouth and lavish it with my best attention. I feel his muscles tense under my assault and I smile even more. "Mmmph ... god, Scully ... bedroom ... please?" "Okay," I answer, drawing back to look at him. He looks surprised. Then, before I can stop him, he picks me up to carry me. "Mulder ..." I protest his action in spirit at least. I like the way this feels. He grins at me then kisses me again. "Hush ... let me fulfill a four-year fantasy," he whispers, then heads toward the bedroom. I decide not to say anything more. It's pointless. I'm enjoying this anyway. We land on the bed together, giggling like kids. He crawls after me as I scoot up the bed, pure hunger burning in his eyes. I wonder for a moment what he sees right now, looking at me. I hope he sees how much I want him, need him, love him. He reaches for me, stilling me where I am and covers me with his body again. His fingertips blaze a trail of fire across my chest. He stops at the clasp on my bra and looks at me. How Mulderesque. Checking in ... making sure. "Go ahead," I whisper. He unsnaps the clasp and tenderly pulls the garment off my body. A wave of uncertainty washes over me as his eyes roam over my body. "Beautiful," he says as he bows his head and catches my nipple in his mouth, sucking, lapping. His teeth graze me and my back arches. He caresses the other breast with his hand and suddenly I feel a little dizzy. My resolve to make this last is quickly disappearing. If I can't have him soon I'm going to explode. "Oh, Jesus, Mulder ... that ... feels ... wonderful ..." He stops for a moment and looks up at me, a big grin planted on his face. "Like that, huh?" "Mmmhmm ..." It's the only word I can form at the moment. "I think I know something you might like even more," he says reaching for the button on my jeans. I lay still while he unbuttons them and then tugs them off me. A shiver of anticipation runs through me as his hands trail up my bare legs, up to the hot, wet core of me. He strokes me through my panties and I gasp at the contact. Then I feel his fingers playing at the waist band of my underwear and I look down at him. He is waiting for me again. I nod my head and smile at him. He smiles back then pulls the offending garment off me. My fingers itch to undress him. "Come here," I surprise myself with my newfound ability to form actual words. He comes up to me and lays down beside me, on his side. I turn to him and rub his strong chest for a moment. "Too many clothes, Mulder," I mumble and let my hands drift to his belt buckle. His muscles tense as I unfasten the buckle, and then the buttons on his jeans. Button-fly. Of course. I look at him and grin. I pull the boxers off him with a little help and let my eyes roam over his body. He is a beautiful man. Lean body, muscles tight and defined. A swimmer. He has a swimmer's body. I fall in love with him all over again. My hungry eyes meet his and he smiles. He gets onto his knees and hovers over me. Then he lowers himself enough to kiss me. Starting at my ear, all the way to my lower belly. Again my back arches as he approaches the center of my body, his hands stroking the inside of my thighs. He pushes my legs apart with little resistance. Instinct begins to take over. I feel his hot breath on me as he kisses the inside of my thighs, closer and closer to where I want him. "Mulder, please ..." I call to him. I can't stand it anymore. He hears my pleading and suddenly I feel his mouth at my center, licking, tasting, driving me out of my mind. He wraps his arms around my legs to try and hold me still. Then he plunges his tongue inside me, and I am on fire. The fire spreads through my body rapidly and I feel myself beginning the ascent toward my own release. "Oh, God, Mulder ... Jesus ... I won't last long ... if you ... if you keep ..." The words die on my lips when I feel one, then two fingers slip inside me as he continues to lap at me with his tongue. "Oh Jesus!" "Come on, Scully ... let it go ... I want to see you ... come for me, baby," he whispers, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves in the center of me. I am virtually thrashing around on the bed, unable, unwilling to contain my growing excitement. I feel myself approaching the edge and I try to hold out a little while longer. "Come on ... let it go ... I want you to," he murmurs, and begins rubbing in circles. I feel the tension grow in my legs as the muscles tighten in preparation for my release. So close ... And then the orgasm rips through my body and I am carried away in the current. He is still stroking me as I come and his ministrations intensify the spasms that have consumed my body. Every touch sends a bolt of electricity through me. "That's it ... that's it ...," he whispers and after a few moments stops his ministrations and returns to lay beside me. My eyes are shut, but I feel his breath on my neck and shiver. He pulls me to him, my back to his chest and kisses me behind the ear. "That's one ... wanna try again?" he asks. Oh god ... yes! But then I think that I want to return the favor. I turn in his arms and smile at him. "Your turn," I say softly. "I'm not keeping score." "I know ... I want to do something for you, though. I want to make you feel the way you just made me feel." With that I push him onto his back and stroke his throbbing erection. "Mmmm ... how can I refuse, then," he says, closing his eyes. And just as he finishes the sentence I take him into my mouth. He groans in response to my actions, and for a moment I stay still, letting him get used to the feeling. Then I lick the very tip of him and watch him, feel him writhe under me. I continue lapping at him, first the head, then down the underside of him, applying pressure all the way. I can taste him, a little salty, as I imagined, and a little sweet. Then I take him wholly into my mouth again, up and down ... I flick my tongue over the tip of him every time I come back to the top. "Jesus, Scully ... where'd you learn ... where'd you learn to do that?" he forces out between gasps and moans. I stop for a second and look at him, an evil grin on my face. "Like this?" "Oh ... yeah ... don't stop ..." I continue, except that now I have my hands in on the fun ... I find his balls and stroke them gently. He groans even louder. "Oh ... please ... " I feel the tension building in him. I wonder if he can last longer than I did. Hmmm ... I decide to up the intensity a little. I squeeze a little and watch as he clenches his hands into tight fists, sheets and all. "Yeah ... oh, God ...," he manages to get out. I slick my hand with my tongue and change my approach. Then I find a nice, sensitive spot on his sac and let loose with the tongue there. "Jesus!" I feel his muscles tense everywhere. He's close. I can tell. He thrusts his hips in time with the motion of my hand and just as I feel him approaching the edge, I come down on him one last time with my mouth ... He shouts out an incoherent word and releases. As he does, I stroke his chest, drinking in his seed greedily. A few minutes later he opens his eyes to find me laying beside him, grinning at him. "How do you feel?" "Terrific ... That was incredible ... I can't believe you--" I put my fingers across his lips to quiet him. "I was inspired ..." I say softly. "You've never --" he starts then the words die on his lips when he sees the look on my face. "I have ... just never like that." "Wow. Can we do that again sometime?" I smile at him and then laugh. "Sure ... but right now ... I think I want you inside me." I'm surprised at my lack of inhibition. Yes, I have a wild streak, but I've never been much of a talker. In fact, I don't think I've ever talked quite this much. "Mmmm ... I need a few minutes, though," he says, pushing me onto my back. "In the meantime, I think I'll just keep myself busy ...," he trails off as he trails kisses down my body. "Please do," I say coyly. It's a wonder I can hold still long enough to form the words. I close my eyes and smile ... it is a smug smile, I know ... but I can't help it. It comes from the knowledge of what he can do to me in the space of just a few minutes, and also from knowing what I can do to him in about the same time. Then I feel his hot breath between my thighs and all thought dissolves. "Mmmm ... God, Mulder ... you're gonna kill me ...," I manage to mumble. I open my eyes and look down only to catch his satisfied grin. "No ... that's not *quite* the plan," he says, turning his attention back to the inside of my thigh. He takes his time, kissing every square inch of the insides of my legs, and I squirm under him. I can feel him everywhere at once and my body hums with anticipation. When I finally feel his tongue stroke across the center of me, I am overcome with the need to feel him pressed against me. I am surprised to hear the low moan that comes from me, begging for his entry. I close my eyes again and my back arches up as he dips his tongue back into me. "Please ... Mulder ..." I plead with him as he uses his fingers and mouth to bring me close to the edge again. So close. Just a little bit more. Just a little ... He pulls away and instantly I miss the warmth of his mouth. I open my eyes to find him balanced over me, watching as I come back down from the precipice I had balanced on so precariously only moments ago. The satisfied grin is back and his eyes are dark with desire. Desire for me. For this moment. I smile at him, self-conscious again. He says nothing for a moment and I reach up and touch his face, running my index finger down the strong line of his jaw. For a second I cannot look into his eyes. I am nearly overwhelmed by the intensity of my love for him and tears begin to blur my vision. "Dana," he calls to me softly, my name layered with years of knowing, and what feels like a lifetime of loving. It is almost strange to hear him use my given name, but I find his eyes again and try not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. "I love you." He says it as if he has known it all his life, as if he has known me all of my life. No flowery prologue, no romantic notions. Simple, straightforward, the truth. How can I hold back any longer? It's all that truly matters, anyway. "I love you, too," I whisper, my shaky voice betraying the depth of what I'm trying to tell him. The words are not enough. "Let me show you," I finish. It's all I can muster as the tide of emotions I have just released in that simple statement are threatening to carry me away. "You already have," he whispers as he kisses me on the sensitive spot behind my ear. I smile through the tears that are stinging my eyes and run my fingers through his silky hair. "Please, Mulder," I plead with him again, and with that he enters me. "God ... you feel so good ... so good ..." he mumbles as he allows himself, allows me, to get used to the feeling. I stroke his chest with my fingertips, pausing on his nipples and am pleased to hear his soft gasps. Now I am the one wearing the satisfied smile. He begins to move after a few moments, and I easily match his pace. It is a slow and teasing pace at first, promising more good things to come. I let my hands wander over his chest, down his legs and across his back as I move with him. I can't recall why I didn't allow this to happen sooner. I am lost in his touch, in the soft murmuring of incoherent words in my ear. He caresses my breast with one hand as we rock together and I gasp with delight. Our eyes meet and he traps them easily. There is no reason to look away from him anymore when he looks at me like this. He is leading me to the edge of the precipice again. The muscles in my legs and back tense, preparing for release and he senses how close I am. He reaches between us and finds the sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb and begins to rub slowly, applying just enough pressure to make me call his name out loud. "Feel good?" he asks, wearing that same satisfied grin of earlier. "Mmm ... God, yes ...," I manage to tell him ... somehow. I am amazed at my ability to concentrate long enough to form any words. He speeds up and suddenly I feel myself about to hurtle over the edge, but I focus on bringing him with me, determined to wait for him. Any other way would seem wrong. I feel him building and it gives me incentive to hold my body in check long enough for him to join me at the edge. I close my eyes and let my hands roam his body. His sighs and gasps help me find the right places, all the places he wants me to touch him. He comes down to me and kisses my neck, again murmuring words of love and passion. "C'mon, Dana ... c'mon baby ... I want to see you again ... I want to feel you all around me," he tells me. "Let go ... just let go ..." he whispers. I stroke his back in response to his pleading and suddenly his pace becomes frantic, thrusting deeply inside me. And then, I can hold back no longer and the orgasm rolls through me, carrying me away. And at the onset of the spasms, he shouts my name and buries himself in me one last time, emptying himself into my body. And for the first time in I can't remember how long, I feel whole. He collapses on me in exhaustion and I feel him trembling. I reach for the sheets which are strewn across the bed haphazardly from our lovemaking and he stops me. "What's wrong?" I ask, suddenly worried that he is going to tell me this was a mistake after all. His face is buried in the space between my shoulder and the pillow, and his breath tickles my ear. He finally props himself up enough to look at me and I am amazed to see his beautiful smile. "Nothing's *wrong*," he says and shifts his weight enough to allow him to withdraw and lay down next to me. I turn onto my side and face him. "You're beautiful," he says softly, still smiling. I am waiting for some kind of darkness to creep in and overtake the situation. After all, that's the norm for us. "So I've heard," I playfully reply, hoping he cannot detect the worry I am feeling. "You were incredible," he whispers, "and I can't believe ..." then his voice falters. "What, Mulder?" I ask. "What can't you believe?" "That you're mine. That I'm yours. I love you, you know." My heart stops for a second. Of course I'm his. I probably have been since day one, but he never realized it, I didn't realize it. How do I tell him that? How do I make him understand? "I know," I say, tears threatening. I take his hand in mine and press it over my heart. "Right here, Mulder. That's where you've always been." It takes a moment to tell him. It is all I can think to say to convey to him everything I feel. Why I follow him on his wild chases. Why I take care of him when he's hurt. Why I couldn't just walk away from him after I was returned, even though my life was constantly in danger, and even now when I am dying. He is too much a part of me and, I think, I am too much a part of him to go at it alone. I can't even remember what it felt like to be without him. He pulls me to him and holds me as if he will never let go. I smile against his chest and relax in his arms, the warmth of his body and his rhythmic breathing lulling me into sleep. Just before I drop off, I feel something warm and wet fall on my hand. Alarmed, I look up to find that he is crying silently. "Mulder? What's wrong?" I ask, unsure of what has happened. He looks down at me through teary eyes and tries to smile. I brush away the tears on his face and wait for him to talk to me. "I can't lose you now," he says, his voice straining. "I can't watch you slip away." I look away for a moment and wonder where this is going. What does this mean? If I'm going to die, I can't do it with any amount of peace if he is not there. I know already that I can't face it alone. I can't die alone. As much as I don't want him to suffer watching me, I just can't do it without feeling his hand on mine, without him close to me. I can't. I look back at him, expecting him to tell me we cannot do this. That it's too much for him. I prepare myself to tell him that I understand. After all, who wants to love a dying woman anyway? "Dana, I would never leave you if I thought there wasn't a cure, but I refuse to believe there's not some way ... that there's not a cure. They did this to you. They know how to make you better. We're going to figure it out together, because I just won't live without you now. I won't." I smile at his words. I misunderstood moments ago and I am left speechless. A worried look crosses his face and I feel guilty for thinking that he would abandon me. "You thought I was going to tell you that I couldn't do this, didn't you?" he asks quietly. I look away, embarrassed at my weakness. "Dana, look at me." I look up into soft hazel eyes. Eyes full of love and happiness. Eyes that used to appear haunted and guilty. I shiver in response to the way he is looking into me. I am naked before him both physically and emotionally. I wait for his words, prepare myself for whatever he has to say. "I love you. I won't leave you. I won't leave you even if we don't ... even if we don't beat it. I'll be there. Always. Every moment. Nothing will keep me away. Not even my own fear and pain. I promise you." At this, I feel the final barrier break and I sob uncontrollably in his arms. It's okay now. It's okay for him to know how frightened I really am. There is no reason to hide anymore. He loves me. It's all that matters now. --end-- Well, that's it. I hope it was worth the read. Feedback is both welcome and appreciated ...