MSR warning! Anti-Shippers, turn back now! You have been warned!

This was the first fanfic I ever wrote, though I've not posted it
till now. Do with it what you will, but please keep my name on
it...and please don't send it to ATXC.

Comments, questions, fan mail, hate mail to pythia@aye.net. I
*love* to get mail! (Those 200-odd messages I get a day just
ain't enough!)
********************

Resigned to Fate
by Lynn Gregg



     Special Agent Dana Scully slammed both fists down hard on
her keyboard, frustrated almost beyond endurance. This was her
fifth attempt in an hour at composing her letter of resignation
from the Bureau; but every time, just when she most needed it,
she found her easy eloquence had abandoned her. The letter--the
key to her freedom, the end to the madness--remained unwritten.

     Staring bleakly at the jumble of glowing letters on the
screen, her treacherous mind strayed back once more to the scene
two weeks prior that had brought her to this point, and to the
chain of events preceding the explosion. All that she had lost in
the years since her assignment to the X-Files: her father, her
sister, the belief in her own ability to affect events for the
better, her very sense of security in the world and her place in
it... Those losses, those pressures had become too much of a
burden, their weight simply too much for her to bear. Nightmares
and panic attacks had *not* been written into the official job
description.

     One too many sleepless nights & she reached the end of her
rope; and rather than tie a knot and hold on, Scully simply
decided to let go and see where she landed. When questioned by
her unfortunate partner, Fox Mulder, she'd turned on him like a
Fury:

     "This is all your fault!" she had bellowed, heaving a nearly
full coffee cup at his head. "You and your megalomaniacal quest
for the 'truth'. *I'll* give you the truth, Mulder! The TRUTH is,
your sister is gone, your father is dead, your mother is dead,
I've lost three months of my life and who knows what else and
it's all for nothing! Don't you get it? They've won. They
*always* win, and there's not a damned thing we can do about it!
I'm just sick of this--sick of being abducted and chased around
by freaks and mutants, sick of being a target for a bunch of
shadow-government assassins... I'm sick of being a pawn in
somebody else's game. That's all I've been since the day I
accepted this assignment. I quit, Mulder. I've got to get out of
this, while I still can."

     Slamming the door on his protests, Dana had gone at once to
Assistant Director Skinner's office, torn *him* a new anal
orifice, requested and received an indefinite leave of absence.
She spent the next two weeks hiding the Hell out, visiting
various friends and sleeping in various guest rooms, not even
going home to check the mail. Not wanting to risk finding Fox
Mulder camped out on her doorstep.

     On the fifteenth day she finally returned to her apartment,
knowing she couldn't remain on the lam forever but still
uncertain as to what her next move should be. Should she ask for
reassignment? She could always go back to teaching at Quantico.
Or should she leave the FBI altogether? She loved being an agent,
had fought tooth and nail for the chance to prove herself, to
distinguish herself... There was always medicine; she was a
damned good forensic pathologist, though she had of late grown a
bit tired of putrefying corpses...

     At the moment, "alcoholic" looked like the most pleasant
career choice. Perhaps drunk she might find a way to do what,
sober, she just couldn't seem to accomplish. Heaving herself away
from the computer, she stalked into the kitchen, hoping to find
at least a bottle of white wine.

     As she wrestled with the cork, Dana glanced over at the
answering machine on the counter. Upon her arrival earlier in the
day, 53 messages had blinked thereon--47 of them from Mulder,
none of which she had bothered to return. Muttering an obscenity
at the machine, she slammed a few drawers before tipping up the
wine bottle & slugging back a hefty gulp. She repeated this
process twice more before heading back to the computer.

     And finding Mulder parked in her chair, looking as if he had
every right to be there.

     "I knew you'd come home eventually," he said coolly, pecking
at the keyboard. Presently the Playboy website came scrolling
onto the screen. "We're having wine? How nice."

     "'We' aren't having anything," Dana sputtered. "How dare you
just let yourself in here like you own the place?!"

     He swivelled the chair around to face her. "Well, when you
didn't return any of my messages or e-mails, I got the impression
that you were avoiding me. And I respect that. I wouldn't have
come here tonight, except I didn't have anyplace else to go."

     "What does that mean?"

     "It means my apartment burned down today. All I've got in
the world right now is my car and the clothes I'm wearing. And
since it's kinda cold to be sleeping in the car..."

     Scully stared at him; her surprise and anger had abated
sufficiently that she could perceive the fog of eerie calm
surrounding him. Knowing well his fear of fire, she realized with
a jolt of concern that he was in shock--a condition in which she
had seen him more than once before.

     "I have a sneaking suspicion our friend the Cancer Man had
something to do with it," Mulder went on in the same calm voice.
"I can just picture him holed up somewhere, flicking his Bic and
laughing..." He fell silent for a moment, glancing back at the
screen upon which Pamela Lee's surgically-enhanced charms were
displayed. When he turned back to face her, the naked look on his
face nearly stopped Dana's heart.

     "You were right, Scully. Across the board. We can't win--all
we can do is keep pushing them until they get tired of playing
and take us out of the game. God! All of this, and what have I
accomplished? I'm no closer than ever to finding Samantha, or--or
anything else. Thanks to me you've lost a sister, not to mention
part of your own life, my parents are--Oh, God, dammit, Scully! I
had no right to drag you into all this. To tell you the truth I
don't know why you've stuck it out this long. There's no reason
for you to risk your life for my bullshit crusades--"

     "Mulder, I accepted the risk when I joined the FBI. Risk is
part of the job."

     "There's such a thing as unnecessary risk, and that's what
I've been exposing you to since the day you first walked into our
office. To do that to a colleague is bad enough, but to do it to-
to a friend, is inexcusable. You've nearly died on my account,
more than once... Whatever becomes of you or me or the X-Files--
Dana, I'll live with that knowledge for the rest of my life."

     DAMN, Scully thought, unable to watch him flog himself any
longer. Impulsively she grasped both his hands in hers, clutching
them tightly.

     "I told you, Mulder, I accepted the risk when I accepted the
job. It's not like I was naive; I knew it could mean my life. And
I could've asked for a transfer at any time."

     "Why didn't you?"

     She thought for a moment before answering. "I still can't
say I believe in little green men, but I've always believed in
the truth--and justice. And even when it seemed otherwise--
Mulder, I always believed in you."

     In answer he dropped her hands, flinging his arms round her
waist, burying his face in her belly. Dana wrapped her arms
around his slumped shoulders, feeling him shudder, feeling the
sting of tears behind her closed eyelids. Leaving the FBI, she
realized, would be a snap compared to leaving this man. After all
they had seen and done and endured together, their lives were
entwined as inextricably as a Celtic knot.

     "Mulder. . ." she murmured, twisting her hands in his thick
dark hair. His head came up at the sound of her voice and his
liquid hazel eyes locked onto hers. Scully felt her stomach drop,
shoring up somewhere in the vicinity of her spleen.

     "Oh, God, Scully," he groaned. "Don't go. Don't leave me. I
can't do this without you. You're the only thing that's kept me
sane through all of this. Hell, maybe we can't win--but if
there's even a chance, Scully, I need you with me. I need you."

     "Damn you, Mulder, why do you think I've been avoiding you?
I knew if I saw you again, you'd manage to persuade me to stay."

     Unconsciously she had moved her hands to cradle his face;
when he turned his head to press a kiss into each palm in turn,
Scully felt a tremor rack her entire body. Unable to stop
herself, she stroked her fingers lightly over his cheekbones,
along the lines of his jaw. She closed her eyes, unnerved by the
intensity of his gaze; her rational mind stuttered briefly and
fell silent. Her every nerve ending seemed to be on fire.

     And then he was on his feet, enfolding her, clinging to her,
his breath hot near her ear. Scully hid her face against his
chest, clutching at him, breathing in the warm scent of him. He
was muttering feverishly into her ear, words that bounced off her
brain without really registering; and then his burning lips were
skating over her neck, suckling at her earlobe, tracing a path
over and upwards. Scully's breath caught in her throat as his
lips closed over hers. After a brief internal war for control she
melted, returning his kiss with an abandon that surprised them
both.

     Murmuring encouragement, Dana slid her hands down to capture
his, pulling him in the direction of her bedroom. He came along
willingly enough up to a point, but at the threshold he balked,
holding her off at arm's length, searching her face.

     "Dana. Are you sure?"

     A positively devilish grin bloomed upon her face. "You said
you needed a place to stay, Mulder. And I've only got one
bedroom."

     Laughing, Mulder pulled her into the room, scooped her up
into his arms and deposited her in the center of the bed.
Stretching luxuriously, Scully opened her arms to him, sighing as
she felt the full length of his body press against hers. Caution,
inhibition, good common sense--all had flown, dispersed by the
sudden imperative of desire.

     Rising to her knees she leaned over him, unknotting his tie
and pulling it slowly free. Draping it around her neck, she next
set to work on the buttons of his shirt, spreading it open to
give her hands and lips access to his chest. Mulder moaned as her
tongue flicked delicately at his nipples, the tiny nubs pulling
up hard and taut between her lips. He raised himself up a bit so
she could remove the shirt and toss it overboard. Her hands went
immediately for his belt but he stopped her, reaching instead to
divest her of her blouse. When all she wore above the waist was
his tie dangling between her breasts, Mulder smiled approval.

     "That's a good look for you, Scully," he said mildly. "We
might get more favorable responses to our inquiries if you
started dressing that way in the field."

     "Shut up, Mulder," she replied, stifling him with a kiss.

     Things progressed rather rapidly from there. The years of
built-up tension between them had given their passion an edge of
urgency that would not be denied. Within moments they were naked,
twined round each other like a pair of coiled serpents, rolling
together laughing and kissing and wrestling. Mulder flipped her
neatly onto her back, pinning her with his elbows; starting at
her mouth, he began working his way slowly south, lips and tongue
tasting and teasing every visible inch of skin until she writhed
and whimpered beneath him. When at last he reached the juncture
of her thighs, he found her wet and open to him, the coppery
coils of hair glistening with her arousal. He fastened his lips
around the hard bud of her clit; Scully gave a little shriek,
arching up against him, and Mulder, encouraged by this response,
brought one hand down to assist in the investigations. Sliding a
finger up into her, he gently coaxed her with mouth and hand
until she came explosively, crying out both his name and that of
the Creator. Pleased with himself, he moved up to lie alongside
her, licking his lips and gazing into her beautiful flushed face.

     "By the way, Scully, did I happen to mention that I love
you?"

     "When did you figure *that* out?"

     "About four years ago, wasn't it?"

     "I love you, too, Mulder," she whispered seductively, her
little hand enclosing his erection. "I'll tell you how much
later. I've got other things on my mind right now."

     And with that, she started working her way down, her mouth
replacing her hand. Just before he entirely lost the capacity to
speak, Mulder groaned, "Dana?"

     She looked up at him, grinning. "Yeah?"

     "Call me Fox."


                              FINIS