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Yvonne J.
Date: Sat, 12 Jul 97 19:23:57 UT
From: "Yvonne Richards"
Subject: 1/ 5 "THROUGH YOUR EYES" by Yvonne J Richards NC-17/MSR
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the
Fox Network. They also belong to Mitch Pileggi, Gillian Anderson and David
Duchovny, without whom, they would have life, but no soul. No copyright
infringement intended. All other characters bear no resemblance to anyone
either living or dead. No financial gain is made through this.
DEDICATION - GIL TREVIZO
In the light of recent events I want to dedicate this story to Gil Trevizo.
Just a small thankyou from me for the all the hard work he has put into
the chaos lists.
THANKYOU'S - MEREDITH AND GERRY
A great big thank you to Meredith for her astutue comments and editing
and, as always, to Gerry Hill for being my sounding board, my beta reader,
my biggest fan and, most importantly, my friend.
ARCHIVE ANYWHERE JUST KEEP ME AS AUTHOR
THROUGH YOUR EYES (1/5)
Yvonne J Richards
Yvonne-Richards@msn.com
Set anytime prior to Never Again.
NO SPOILERS FOR ANYTHING
RATING - NC-17
CONTENT WARNING - MULDER/SCULLY ANGST
CLASSIFICATION - S and (MS)R A
Mulder begins to see a little more clearly than before.
Through Your Eyes
by Yvonne J Richards
July 1997
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Tap, tap, tap.
A hand went out in front of the half stooped body.
Tap, tap, tap.
Facial muscles straining to discern the slightest noise.
Tap, tap, tap.
Eyes half closed, narrowed into slits. Head bolt upright.
Tap, tap, .
He'd touched something soft. A body? Another human being.
"M---om?"
Anticipation and hope, resounded from the voice as the mouth formed the M.
Fear as it formed the vowel, and the resignation and despair of a bitterly
shattered illusion as it closed on the final consonant.
A hand came to rest on his forearm, a gentle squeeze.
A lone tear trickled down the young man's cheek.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
As does the predator lie in wait for his prey, in turn the prey may or may not
be aware they are being stalked. The stalking may not always end in the
obvious conclusion, the death or the maiming of the victim. The victim may
not always be perceived that way by the predator. But this predator was lying
in wait to administer what all predators do to their prey.
This predator was waiting to devour.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Fox Mulder stopped the car outside Dana's apartment, watching her as she slid
out of the seat and then bent her head in towards him.
"Night Mulder. And thanks."
Turning on her heel she walked purposefully to the entrance of the apartment
building, stopping at the door to wave.
Night, he mouthed.
Tonight he'd maintain the same vigil he had for months now. He would switch
on the ignition, put the car in drive and move off. Except he wouldn't drive
home. He would drive around the block, park the car a little way from where
he'd dropped her off and sit.
As the predator would patiently wait and watch his prey, waiting for the exact
moment to strike and devour it. So Mulder waited.
And waited. He knew exactly *why* he was doing this. Other people's reaction
would have been - Jeez Mulder, get a life. But she was his life. The only
life he had ever connected with. Was ever connected to. If he went home he
wouldn't sleep, so he may just as well fantasize about her here as there. And
so, as he had done for so long, he would wait. Until the moment was right to
devour her.
Anticipation mingles with exhilaration just knowing that she is near. An
overpowering feeling that any second she may suddenly appear. Stupid.
Irrational. Why would she appear? A hot date at 1.00 in the morning?
Probably the only time she came out of that building at 1.00 in the morning
was to save his ass from some fate worse than death.
Still, it was an overpowering feeling. That was why he never left her at
night now. If this was the only way he could have her near, then he'd settle
for it. Just knowing she was near charged him with such power, such energy.
His life without her was like a lamp without a plug. No energy. No light
source. No light. Blackness. Darkness. A void.
And so he waited.
Out of the windshield he could see the first drops of rain as they smudged
against the glass, turning the pinpricks of coloured lights into blotted
circles of hazy oranges and reds.
The red made him think of her hair. How much he wanted to touch it, feel it.
Feel its softness, stroke it, make her shut her eyes up tight against the
immense pleasure of the touch. Maybe one day he'd get to do that. He wanted
to cradle her head in his hands, caress the nape of her neck, plant kisses on
the babysoft skin just under her ear, nibble her ear lobe. Whisper to her.
Whisper I need you. I need you, I need you.
He mouthed the words, rolled them round in his mouth. Feeling what it felt
like to say them. Strange. Wonderful but strange. He felt his heat press
against the tightness of his pants. He could taste her, she was so near. His
body ached for release. To her. Into her. Through her. With her. Ached.
His need for her imminent. Release? No.
How long had he been sitting here? Hours, who can tell? The windows had long
misted over. Shadows of figures pass by on the sidewalk. What did he care?
He was as close to his light source as he could be. Like a moth drawn to a
candle. In the darkest of his nights she was his star, his guiding light.
She grounded him but she also shone a beacon for him. A safe harbour for a
man tortured by his past, unable to partake of living and afraid of the
future.
It was almost midnight when the lights in her apartment went off. The
darkness had consumed her too.
They were equal.
For now.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Dana Scully's Apartment
The call came in at 5.05 am. The luminous numbers of her clock still etched
deep and fresh into the inner core of her visual cortex. Her bleary eyes
focusing on those numbers as they tripped over. Her ears not wanting to hear
what the Hospital was saying. This was a call she hoped she'd never
have to answer.
Her heart hammered in her breast, the blood pounded in her ears and what
little shred of sanity and composure was left, was screaming a ten foot high
NO in her mind.
The phone remained in her hand, its heavy weight testament to the
duty it had just performed. Messenger. Messenger of Doom.
With a heavy heart she went to him.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
In the darkness of the night our minds re-attune themselves. Honing in on
frequencies, bandwidths that we never use in daylight. Senses that we once
took for granted are gone. Feverishly, we search our minds for markers in
this dark night, this black hole, this hell. Suddenly, the switch is flicked
and our lives change.
Forever.
This was how the day began for Fox Mulder.
As the blackness that had engulfed him began to drift away, a new blackness
took its{'} place. As he rose from the depths of unconsciousness and his
eyes fluttered open, the world seemed strangely different to him. He could
have sworn he had opened his eyes. That he was awake. If he was awake then
why was everything black?
He lay rigid for some moments, straining to hear the sounds around him. Oh
God no, he was in Hospital - *again*. He tried to recall why but his head
ached so much, the effort was too great. The noises around him sounded busy,
as if this was the start of the day. A lot of noise, footsteps, trolleys
being clanked along. Drinks. Yes, that was what it was, drinks. This must
be early morning. Again he froze. A coldness pervaded his body, like someone
had trickled ice cold water through his veins. He shuddered. If this was
early morning, why was it dark? He tried to push himself up in the bed, but
the effort was too much. He fell back against the pillows. As he fell once
more into sleep, he could vaguely hear women's voices.
"Why does it always happen to the good looking ones?"
"It's always the way isn't it? Hope he's got someone to look after him, he's
gonna need it. Especially if he doesn't get his sight back."
"Are you off now?" The second nurse nodded at her friend. "See you tonight.
Bye."
"Bye."
As he drifted in and out of sleep all he could hang on to were thoughts of
that conversation between two nurses. Friends. Nurses who thought he was
still asleep. They had confirmed his worst fears. It *was* morning. And if
it was morning, they were right.
He had lost his sight.
He shut his eyes tight against the wave of emotion that threatened to wash
over him as he bit down on his lower lip. Swallowing, he summoned up as much
courage as he could to stop the trembling that was beginning to ripple through
his body. He had to fill his mind with other thoughts. Sane thoughts.
Thoughts of Scully.
His final shred of sanity.
He tried to picture her in his mind's eye, demure, petite. But so
goddamn strong. She's so strong. She's the strong one. She's so goddamn
fucking strong.
God, I wish for that strength now, to get through this.
So serene, so proud, so strong. He tried to remember her face. But he
couldn't. Christ he couldn't remember her face. He put his hands up over his
eyes. Such goddamn useless fucking eyes. The warm salty tears caressed his
palms as he let out a sob.
He couldn't remember her face.
And he knew he'd probably never see it again.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Memorial Hospital
VA
Dana Scully approached the nurses station and flipped open her ID.
"I'm looking for Fox Mulder. He was admitted a short while ago."
The nurse looked sympathetically at her and asked if she would wait for a few
moments until the Doctor treating Mr Mulder could see her. She nodded her
acquiescence and obligingly took the proffered seat. She had only been seated
for a few moments when a tall blonde Doctor came striding down the corridor
towards her. He extended a hand as he reached her.
"You must be Miss Scully?"
"Yes. And you are?"
"Doctor Weber. Hans Weber. Pleased to meet you."
"How is he Doctor?"
He put a hand up around her back and ushered her into a small waiting room off
the corridor.
"This is more private. Do sit down."
Dana sat down on the edge of the seat waiting anxiously to hear of her
partners condition.
"Mr Mulder has suffered a severe blow to the head which has resulted in
cerebral contusion, a bruising of the brain in other words, which has
affected the optic nerve." Dana shifted uneasily in her seat.
"I am a Doctor, I do understand the implications."
"Oh I see. Well, you'll know only too well that whilst he may be perfectly
all right, he may also never regain his sight."
Dana shuddered before going on. "The nurse on the phone told me that it's
affected both eyes. That's quite rare isn't it?"
"Yes it is. But I have seen cases of it before. And some people have made
full recoveries. It can be days, weeks, even months though before the sight
is regained."
"If ever." Dana added.
Hans Weber just nodded. "He's going to need someone to look after him when
he's discharged. He won't be able to go home alone."
"That's no problem Doctor. I'll look after him. Can I see him now?"
"Yes, yes, of course. He may not be awake yet but I'll get someone to show
you to his room."
"Thank you."
"And ." He stopped himself, then thinking better of it decided to carry on
anyway. "If you do have any further questions please don't hesitate to
contact me."
"No I won't. Thank you again."
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
As she stepped into the small room her eyes riveted on the tall, dark frame
that was her partner. How many times had they been in hospitals? Too many
goddamn times, that's how many! He looked as if he was asleep, he was so pale
against the sheets.
"Nurse?"
She thought her heart would shatter into a thousand pieces at that one
tremulous statement. One word uttered that spoke volumes in its
intensity, its vulnerability, its fear.
"No. It's me."
"Scully."
She knew from the relief and outpouring in the way he spoke her name how long
he had been waiting for her. His hand stretched out, not toward her, but over
the top of his body. He didn't know where she was. His hand shifted from
left to right trying to find her.
Fighting down the urge to sink to the floor and sob she moved quickly to his
side, taking his hand and sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"I'm here Mulder it's okay." She brushed the hair from his forehead. "How
are you feeling?"
"My head feels like it's got a jack-hammer inside it. Aside from that ." She
saw him swallow before he went on. "Scully?"
"Yes." She squeezed his hand reassuringly.
"Scully I can't see. Why?"
"Mulder, the blow you received has meant that your brain has swelled and it's
pressing on the optic nerve."
"I know all that. I heard that. But --- why?"
"Why what, Mulder?" She was at a loss to understand what he was getting at.
"I just want to know why?" His voice trailed off, the words hanging limply
between them. His grip loosened as he slipped into sleep again.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Three Weeks Later
She stood and watched him as he fought to control his body movements. The
hospital had allowed him home, into her care and she had come to collect him.
The previous day she had brought in his duffel with his black jeans and
sweater and his leather jacket.
Somehow, out of his Armani and without that damn badge of his he looked human,
vulnerable. The silent tears remained unshed, but with increasing difficulty.
Tap, tap, tap.
A hand went out in front of the half stooped body.
Tap, tap, tap.
Facial muscles straining to discern the slightest noise.
Tap, tap, tap.
Eyes half closed, narrowed into slits. Head bolt upright.
Tap, tap, .
He'd touched something soft. A body? Another human being.
"M---om?"
Anticipation and hope, resounded from the voice as the mouth formed the M.
Fear as it formed the vowel, and the resignation and despair of a bitterly
shattered illusion as it closed on the final consonant.
A hand came to rest on his forearm, a gentle squeeze.
A lone tear trickled down the young man's cheek.
"It's me Mulder. She rang and said she was busy."
Too goddamn busy for her own bloody son. How insensitive can you get? He may
be blind for the rest of his life and she's busy. She spat out the words in
her mind. Damn her. Damn the woman. Couldn't she for once just put her
guilt
aside and come to him. He needed help for chrissakes. Not just physically,
but mentally. If ever he was cope with this, he needed to know that he had
people he could depend on. She guessed, as ever, it was just down to the two
of them.
"Oh." He swiped away the tear.
"She said to tell you she loves you."
She watched as he stumbled forward, bracing his hand against the wall for
support and guidance. His duffel kept falling off his shoulder and he had to
keep stopping to put it back in place.
"Here let me take that for you."
"Leave me Scully."
He continued on his way, stumbling but too proud to accept her help. Until he
fell down the small step near the exit. She ran to him and helped him up. He
clung to her arm from then on until she deposited him in her car.
They sat there for some moments before Dana drove away. The atmosphere was
thick and heavy. Unsaid anger and fear lay on both their lips. Neither
was ready yet to let the other in.
End of Part 1/5
Part 2/5 NC-17 & MSR
It is disarming, to say the least, when the predator becomes the prey. When
the one who was in charge, in control, is no longer. The time when one's
independence has been overtaken, even interdependence a thing of the past.
The only path to tread is that of dependence. It weighs heavily on the heart.
Dependence can weaken the reserve, but enforced dependence is soul wrenching.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Later that same Day
Dana Scully's Apartment
Dana had taken him home. Like some goddamn little kid. Dana had taken him
home. Hell. He knew he couldn't look after himself. He could just about
take himself to the goddamn fucking toilet. Christ. What the hell was he
going to do? All the hospital therapy in the world couldn't prepare anyone
for this day. The day when you were flung back out in the harsh cruel world
to cope. Except with one big difference.
You may never see again.
May never see again, mayneverseeagain. He bit down on his lower lip to stop
the trembling. Was Dana watching him? He didn't fucking know if anyone was
watching him anymore? His eyes darted left to right. What use? What fucking
use? Why am I doing this? I can't damn well see hand in front of me. Why am
I looking? Reflex. Comfort. Fear. Yes fear. Fear oozed from every pore.
"Scully? -- Scully?"
His voice rose, cracking upwards. "S.cull.ee?"
"I'm here Mulder it's okay." She was there in an instant, the hand
reassuringly on his arm. She could feel the fear in his voice, the scared
lilt of it. Her other hand went instinctively to his cup his face. Trying to
convey with touch what she knew he could not see in her eyes. It must be so
frightening for him she thought, not knowing if anyone was watching you.
"I. I didn't know if you. you were here." I got frightened. That was twice
he'd got frightened he thought. Once back in Alexandria when she'd been
abducted, and now. Different situations, different scenarios but the same
fear. The same goddamn fear. The fear that cuts through you like an ice cold
knife.
"I'm here Mulder. Don't worry. I won't be far away. Do you want to go
to bed?"
"Yes. Feel tired." He couldn't string sentences together like he used to.
Why? Just because he couldn't see meant he couldn't speak? Was the visual
world so important to the speaking world? Evidently.
He felt her take his hand, his right in hers and a guiding hand on his upper
right arm. Unsteadily he rose. How many times had he been to this apartment
and yet he stumbled over everything. She had to lead him. Lead him like some
goddamn fucking baby. This couldn't be happening to him. He wouldn't let it
be happening to him. For chrissakes, he was supposed to look after her.
Even though she didn't want him to. He felt he had to, was obliged to, he
felt guilt for her involvement in his life.
He loved her.
Such a simple statement.
It had occurred to him in the hospital when he had time on his hands. It had
forged its way into his brain like an express train. And now it tumbled
around inside his head like a waterfall of cascading colours permeating down
to his heart. Warming it with its coloured drops of happiness. All he had
now were the images in his head. He was blind. Perhaps permanently. There
was no way of telling.
Tentatively he put out a hand to feel for the wall. He would make it to the
bedroom himself. He had too. He had his pride too, didn't he? He could say
he was fine.
"Leave me Scully."
"We're almost there Mulder."
"I said leave me Scully. I need to do this on my own."
She watched as this grown man, whose stature had seemingly halved in these
past few days, watched as he stumbled along the wall. Searching for
familiarity, for markers, footholds to hang on to. Her bottom lip trembled
and she briefly shut her eyes as she watched him stumble and fall. Before she
could reach him, he was halfway up, his hand thrust out behind him.
"I'm fine Scully. I'm fine."
She covered her mouth with her hands. If she hadn't have she didn't know
whether she would have been able to have stopped herself screaming his name.
She shook her head. What had he become? Would he ever see again? What would
become of him, his career, his life. Pain sliced through her heart.
What happens to him when I die?
"I made it Scully. I made it."
She hadn't been concentrating. She ran down the hallway and sure enough
smiling and looking triumphant, Fox Mulder was sat on the bed. Her bed.
She had no desire to move him. She had other ideas.
Touching him was so easy now he couldn't see her. When he had been in
hospital, she had discovered this. She could do it all the time. His loss of
sight had given them a gift they'd never had before. Anonymity.
She watched as he undressed. She was used to it, seeing him naked, but trying
to undress oneself in the dark is never as easy as it is when you can see what
you're doing. She choked back the tears as she watched him struggle.
"Here let me help you."
"No Scully I'm fine." His defiance shone through in his voice but she was
having none of it.
She reached down and unzipped his jeans.
"Scully?"
"Mulder?"
"If---you---do that I'll---"
Words were easier to say for her when he couldn't see her embarrassment over
saying them.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed now, her hand still resting on his jean
zipper, his hand hovering slightly over hers.
"Mulder---I---want y---, want to." She finished quickly. What had she
thought about not being embarrassed now?
"But Scully, this is too far."
Slowly she withdrew her hand and brought it up to cup his chin and cheek.
Looked deep into the hazel pools that had become slits. He squinted now, a
reaction to not being able to see. Always squinting to try to see.
"Open your eyes Mulder."
"What for? I *can't* see you."
"I know but I can see you."
"What do you see?"
"Everything."
"Oh, the enigmatic Doctor Scully sees everything."
"Yes. Everything." Everything I could ever want is in those eyes.
"But I can't see you." Christ I want you but I need to *see* you.
"But can't you see that your love still shines from them. Your light. The
light that is you. That is Mulder. You are still who you are. Blindness
can't change that."
She took his face in both her hands now, framing it. Looking deep into his
eyes. And then she kissed him.
As they broke the kiss, he rose for air. Looked stunned.
"I don't want pity Scully."
"I don't do pity Mulder. But I do a pretty good love."
"Why now?"
"Why not now Mulder. I love you." Hell she was being bold tonight. "Now do
I get to take these jeans off or not?"
She slipped off the robe she was wearing and without waiting for an answer as
she swiftly pulled the restricting denim from his long, slender legs. His
face looked puzzled. He doesn't know what's happening to him she thought. Throwing
them to the floor she sat astride him. He didn't know she was naked.
Didn't know how this new found boldness had affected their relationship.
Well, not until flesh met flesh and he let out a barely audible gasp.
His hands came out to her but he couldn't find her, couldn't direct himself to
her. Supporting herself on the palms of her hands she bent down to place a
kiss on his lips. Her nipples tantalizingly swayed across his chest. He
wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her deeper into the kiss.
Breathless from excitement he asked her.
"Help me Scully. I need you. Need to find you."
Rolling him to one side she took his right hand and cupped it around her firm
breast. He sighed and nuzzled her neck.
"Thank you." He answered huskily.
Now he had his bearings, all things were possible. She felt his warm, soft
hand on the back of her neck as he pulled her to him thrusting his tongue in
her mouth, mimicking the thrust of lovemaking. He pushed himself against her,
groin to groin. gyrating as their tongues, met and twisted in a coupling as
intimate as the act itself. She moaned slightly beneath him and felt his
hardness push against his boxer shorts. He reached for them to pull them down
but she was there first.
Now she had him on his back again and was running her fingernails very lightly
down his legs.
"Scully. Don't. I can't see what you're doing. I don't want to do this
without seeing you."
Oh Christ. She couldn't tell him he may never see again that it may always be
this or nothing.
"You don't have to see me Mulder."
His erection was rock hard and the tension in his voice was evident. This was
no time to *play* with him. He needed reasurrance, love. By God, he was
going to get love. She'd waited this long for him and she loved him. Passionately.
"But ."
"No but's Mulder."
"What . what's that Scully?"
She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. "Just protection, that's
all." His face went white. Slowly she placed the condom onto the tip of his
arousal and slid it into place, stroking it down with the insides of her
forefingers. He arched his back uncontrollably and held his arms out to her.
Slowly she lowered herself onto him, his face contorted in the pleasurepain
that only lovemaking can bring.
"Is this what you want Mulder?"
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Mulder felt a great crashing wave of emotion flood over him as he felt Dana's
flesh against his own. How long he had waited for this and now, now.
He let out a barely audible gasp and thrust his arms out to her. Shivers ran
through his body as he felt her nipples brush his own as she lowered herself
down onto him. Brushed her lips against his and deepened the kiss.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her deeper into the kiss. For a
moment, the universe stood still, stars broke out in front of his eyes, the
sky was blue and the birds were singing. Sadly though, it was only in his
mind. When she broke the kiss he was stunned. Stunned by the overwhelming
desire he felt for her, stunned by her reciprocation of it.
"Help me Scully. I need you. Need to find you."
He felt her take his hand and cup it around her firm breast. He sighed and
nuzzled deeper into her neck.
"Thank you." He answered huskily.
Now he had his bearings they kissed and let their hands roam freely over each
other's bodies content in this joining, almost as intimate as the act itself.
A long time in coming and something to be savoured. Mulder longed for this
release with her, this joining of their bodies to match their souls. He knew
Dana wasn't making love to him out of pity, he knew she loved him, for once he
was confident of that. Confident of another person's feelings towards him.
Confident of being worthy of that love. But he needed to see her, he needed
to be able to slip into those deep blue pools he loved so much and swim in
their warm depths.
He was shocked when he felt her place the condom on his throbbing erection.
Waves of electric shocks coursed through his limbs and he wanted her so much
his toes began to curl. He was asking her what she was doing.
"Just protection, that's all."
He felt the colour drain from his face, Christ it must look like I don't want
this. But I do. Every nerve ending, every fibre of his lean, muscular body
cried out for this. But . He wanted one thing more than anything else in the
world. He wanted to be able to see her.
As she lowered herself onto him, it took almost gargantuan willpower and
self-control to not just lose it there and then. A surge of warmth spread
through his body. The heat. Oh God, the heat. He couldn't control it. He
wanted her so badly. Wanted to give in to the warmth that surrounded him,
pressed against him, wrapped and cosseted him. Made him feel safer and warmer
than at any other time in his life. One thrust was all it would need. One
thrust and one look into those deep blue eyes .
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Dana asked the question again. And what a stupid question. It was obvious
from his face how much he wanted it, wanted her. She watched as he bit down
on his lower lip, stemmed the trembling that was there.
Silence.
She made no move against him. "Mulder?"
"It's hard to think straight when a gorgeous woman has you captive."
Before she had time to ask him if he thought she was going too fast, she
felt him push her up and away from him as he rolled over in the bed.
"Mulder what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Yes there is." She touched his shoulder gently.
"No there isn't." The tears evident in his throat. "I'm fine."
"We start to make love and then you turn away from me, and you're fine?" She
heard him let out a sob. Carefully, she turned him back to face her, cupping
his face in her hands. The tears streamed down his face.
"It shouldn't be like this."
"Like what?"
"I want to be able to see you."
"You *can* see me Mulder. You can see into my soul like I can see into yours.
Open your eyes again for me."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
As he was bid, he opened the large hazel pools for her to fall and sink into.
Her hands were still cupping his face.
"Am I doing okay Scully?"
"You're doing just fine."
"Do you still see everything?"
"Smile and I see everything. You're my sunshine Mulder, you're my reason for
waking." The smile broadened, almost into a grin. "Don't you see Mulder,
this is almost a gift."
His eyes darkened and his face relaxed into a frown.
"How do you make that one out Scully?"
"Before . before the accident, we used our eyes to communicate. We didn't
want anything else, didn't need anything else. We could hide behind our eyes
and make ourselves believe what we thought they were saying. Now . now we
*have* to talk. Talk and touch are our *only* methods of communication."
"But what if I never get my sight back."
She slid a thumb across his cheekbone, kissing lightly where she'd traced.
"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it."
"I can't face this ." Alone, I can't face this alone, Dana.
"I'm here for you." You're not alone Fox.
Slowly she traced her thumb across his cheekbone, drawing her hand down the
side of his face, leaving her thumb hovering over his cheek, her fingers
grazing his skin in an almost gossamer touch. He was her world, without him,
she had nothing. She couldn't lose him now. Sight or no sight. He meant as
much, more even, to her now than ever before. She couldn't let him slip away.
She reached across and brushed her lips against his, caressing his face with
her hand. He mirrored her and they settled against each other's body as if
they were two halves of the same person.
Again, she felt him push her away from him, but gently. His soft hands came
to rest on her face, stroking every contour. His touch was so gentle, yet so
sensual, provocative. It took all of her restraint not to pull him against
her and let her hands once more roam over his muscular body. She wanted to
take him there and then but she knew he wasn't ready. He had his own
reasons and she respected them. But he had to know one thing. Perhaps the
most important thing of all. She had to tell him.
She let her hands roam through his hair, tracing the lines of his face, then
she held him steady as she gazed lovingly at his beautiful face.
"Mulder."
"Mmm."
"I love you."
He pulled her towards him and let his hands once more roam over her body.
"Give me the guided tour Scully?"
"Tomorrow G-man, tomorrow."
As she wrapped her arms around him and felt him snuggle up to her warmth she
heard him whisper against her neck.
"I love you too."
Within minutes he was asleep.
Her need of him could wait, when he was ready it would happen.
End of Part 2/5
Part 3/5
One Week Later
FBI Headquarters
Washington DC
The day began with uncertainty, human frailty, dependence upon another. With
that dependence, though, comes an enlightening experience. Acceptance.
Acceptance of oneself, one's fate, one's worth. The acceptance of oneself by
others. Which is the most important? Acceptance of oneself or other's
acceptance of you?
Pre-conceived ideas of people's worth cemented by previous actions. The
knowledge that whatever happens the world continues to turn. Others continue
to judge you and equally you judge them, believe they will always behave the
way you believe they will. They will never shock you. So what is there to
fear?
All eyes were on her and the man on her arm.
She didn't know who was more afraid, her or the man who clung to her arm in
desperation. Whose very touch indicated the fear he felt at facing his work
colleagues again. The man who may never see their faces. Ever again.
Walking into the bullpen for Mulder would be like walking everywhere else in
life. Black. No more. No less. Just black. But his mind and his heart
weren't black. They were laid bare for the world to see. Vulnerability was
his middle name.
Mulder had insisted that he return to work. Skinner had tried to put him on
leave but Mulder had insisted. If his sight returned, he'd said, his workload
wouldn't have increased and if he lost his sight completely at least he would
have a stab at showing them he *could* work.
Dana had paid particular attention to both their appearances this morning.
She had pressed his gray Armani and a crisp white shirt. She had teamed this
with a blue gray tie and had chosen an Ice-Blue suit for herself. The skirt
just that little shorter than usual, the jacket cut in to her trim waist just
a touch more, accentuating her figure.
Nothing could or would detract from the white stick that Mulder carried with
him, but together they cut a dash that, she hoped, would deflect the
attentions of the FBI staff away from what Mulder didn't want them to see.
She knew he was being brave about the whole thing. It had only been weeks
since the 'mystery' assailant had calmly slammed his head against the parking
lot wall and already he was determined to carry on his life as normally as he
possibly could. He had even told Scully not to bother wasting time looking
for the guy. What was done was done he'd said. Strange what a blow to head
can do for a person.
They had tried to make love for the first time a week ago when Mulder had come
home from hospital. It had been pleasurable and painful in one all-consuming
act without the consummation. But he hadn't been ready that night and there
was no way she was going to push him. She'd waited this long, a few more days
wouldn't make any difference.
Each night he had clung to her letting out all of his pent up emotion, his
fears. The tears would come and he would lie in her arms and fall asleep.
She was ready for the ultimate joining of their bodies but as yet it hadn't
happened. She didn't know how much longer she could wait for him, how much
longer before she let him know how much he truly meant to her. To her life.
She was going to go crazy if they didn't make love soon. The promise of that
first time still lingered with her. If it had never happened then probably
she would feel differently. But having been joined, but not joined, was
almost too much to bear.
She tightened her grip on his arm just to make the physical contact with him.
Feeling his warmth, her arousal started way down low in the depths of her
center,
spreading its hot spindly fingers of pleasure at an alarming rate.
Now he clung to her arm for support and guidance through the maze of desks
that would lead them to the elevator and downwards to their office.
The buzz of the office sounded reassuring to both their ears but stopped as
soon as they entered. A deathly hush fell and all that each and every one of
them could hear were the click, click, click of Special Agent Dana Scully's
heels on the floor and the tap, tap, tap of Special Agent Fox Mulder's stick
on the furniture.
Scully felt Mulder tense at the quietness. She realised it must be so
disconcerting for him to know there were people here yet he could neither see
nor hear them. They walked a little further into the bullpen before Mulder
could take it no longer.
"Hey you guys I'm not dead yet. It sounds like a wake in here."
Still not a word was spoken. But Dana watched in astonishment as a few of the
men got up from their desks. Through the stillness of the silence all they
could hear was the scraping of chairs against the floor as they were pushed
back from the desks. Then the slow pat, pat of palms hitting together.
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, stopping dead in her
tracks. A standing ovation for Spooky Mulder?! These guys never failed to
amaze her.
Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks but with a fierce determination
honed to perfection by the Scully women, she held her head high and gently
guided Mulder through them all.
As he passed, they patted him on the back and through it all he smiled. One
of those rare smiles that says a million thank you's from the bottom of my
heart. That says a ten foot high thank you - for accepting me - if only
*now*.
It was only when they reached the relative safety of the elevator car that
they hugged, and each allowed the salty pools to tumble from their resting
places.
Slowly she guided him through the corridors that led to their office.
"We're here Scully." He said before setting foot over the threshold. A smug
smile on his face.
"How do you know?"
"I can *smell* it."
She arched an unseen eyebrow and smiled warmly at this man who had the power
to captivate her very soul.
Closing the door behind them, she put her arms around his waist and hugged him
close.
"I can smell you too. You smell gorgeous."
His chin came to rest on her head briefly and then he bent his face down to
hers, searching out her lips, his hips pressed against hers as she felt him
rise. His head began to dart back and forth and he tensed his hands around
her upper arms.
"What is it?"
"I can't find you. I need to kiss you, I can't find you."
The words came out from a strangled throat. Almost tangible pain so evidently
etched on his features. She put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled
his head down to meet hers.
"I'm here Mulder. I'm here."
He kissed her fiercely, possessively, his hips pushing against her, grinding
himself against her, his hands roaming over her body now he had made that
initial contact.
"I can't lose you." He breathed huskily into her ear.
"You won't."
For want of a better word he was almost childlike, needing her constant
reassurance that she loved him and that she was indeed there. How must you
feel when the world is just black around you? No rainbow of hues, no
cacophony of colour to permeate your world. A monotone world of black and
nothing.
Black and nothing.
She pulled him closer to her, seeking his trouserband, letting her hand travel
up and down his arousal, hearing him moan and sigh as she stroked his heat
through his pants.
"I want you Scully. Right here, right now. On the desk. I don't care
*where*. I want you."
His voice told her he was struggling with his composure and she knew that she
shouldn't have encouraged him. But God she needed him. They couldn't do it
here. Anyone could walk in. Particularly Skinner. But she had wound him up
to such a pitch, not that that was intentional, it was partly due to his own
high level of need, that to leave him now was cruel to say the least.
The phone interrupted her deliberations.
"Scully." A short pause. "Yes Sir, we'll be right there."
"Skinner?"
"Yes."
"I can't go Scully."
"Why not?"
"Like this?" He indicated his groin.
He was bulging through his pants and there was *no way* of hiding it under his
suit jacket. She punched Skinner's internal number and waited for him to
answer her.
"Sir? Could you give us a little while. We can't move too fast just at the
moment. About twenty minutes? That's fine Sir. And Sir?" A pause. "Thank
you."
Before the phone was back on the cradle he had his arms around her.
"Mulder wait. I need to lock the door, turn off the light."
"Then you won't be any better off than me will you?" he chuckled as he let her
go.
Quickly she ran to the door, turned the key and flicked the switch. The room
was in total darkness now as she moved back across to Mulder. He hadn't
moved. They were both at the same disadvantage now. Both in the dark.
"Take me to the wall Scully."
She did as he asked, they had no time to argue as she led him over to the wall
behind the filing cabinets. He steadied her against it and found her face
with his hands. Cupped it and sought her lips. He was getting marginally
better at finding her. She in turn encircled him in her arms, felt the heat
of his body through the crispness of his shirt.
The heat of his erection throbbed within him, pulsed through him. He bent
down and suckled her neck, bit her ear lobe and traced a line down her throat
with his feather-like kisses. She melted beneath him.
She clung to him, dug her fingernails into his shoulders until he winced with
pain. But he continued. He pushed the suit jacket off her shoulders and
threw it where he thought the desk was. His hands were caressing the back of
her head, slipping over the silky feel of her hair. Tracing a line over her
shoulders, he quickly undid her blouse buttons and pushed it back away from
the tiny lace mounds he found. Quickly and deftly, he undid the front
fastener and heard her moan as his kisses left her neck and throat and came
down to suckle on her nipples.
She unzipped his pants now and let them drop to the floor from where he
stepped out of them. Pulled him against her. They had no time. They
shouldn't be doing this.
"Mulder we don't have time."
"Yes we do." His response urgent, breathless.
He reached round the back of her skirt and undid the zipper, allowing it to
pool around her feet, she stepped out of it and kicked it away.
As he planted kisses further and further down her body, she arched herself
against the sensuality of it. He tugged at the waistband of her hose and
slipped them down over her hips and legs, allowing her to step out of them.
He was kneeling before her now and he let his hands and tongue travel upwards
towards her centre, she pushed down her panties, still aware of how little
time they had. He helped her with them and then stood.
She touched him through the silk of his boxer shorts and he let out a gasp of
breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.
"Oh God Scully. I want you."
"I want you too."
She tugged the boxer shorts down over his lean legs, imitating his earlier
movements, letting her tongue and lips travel up toward the dark tangled mass
of hair to seek him out. She stopped, abruptly, halfway up. "Shit!"
"What?"
"Do you have a condom?"
"No."
"Neither do I?"
"I haven't *got* anything Scully."
"I never said you had. But I don't want to get *anything*. Like a baby
Mulder."
"Oh SHIT!! What now?"
"We get dressed and go see Skinner."
As she and Mulder made their way through Skinner's connecting office door,
with minutes to spare, she thanked God, she saw his secretary take a long
pitiful look at Mulder.
I'm sure she fancies him, but then, hell, why wouldn't every woman fancy him.
He is undeniably fanciable. Thankfully his *need* was not now apparent.
Unfortunately, for Mulder, he'd had to go to the little boys room to sort out
that dilemma for himself. Boy if you could have seen him ten minutes ago.
Stop it, you're off to see Skinner, stop it Dana.
Strange how the world turns around sometimes isn't it? All these years that
he had touched her, let her go through doors first and now she had to do it
for him. She tried hard not to make it look as though as he was dependent on
her, but he was. He was terrified to move without her. Wouldn't anyone be?
He stood now, hovering at the entrance to Skinner's office as she cupped his
left elbow and gently guided him through the door with the back of her hand in
the small of his back.
"Deja vu Scully."
She never answered him. Skinner stepped from behind his desk and made to take
over from Scully and help Mulder to a chair. She shook her head and Skinner
gestured his helplessness with outstretched palms.
He decided on shaking hands with Mulder. But how would he know? He grabbed
Mulder's upper left arm with his own left hand and then pumped Mulder's hand
vigorously.
"Agent Mulder. Good to have you back. Take a seat."
Mulder tentatively felt around the edges of the seat with his hands before
lowering himself. Scully's hand hovered protectively over his shoulder.
"Agent Scully." Skinner only now verbally acknowledged her presence. Feeling
that he should - verbally acknowledge it - that is. He'd never had to do it
before. He could just nod at them. God, what kind of a world was Mulder
living in? He was just sitting there, not seemingly focusing on anything.
Bolt
upright, hands in his lap. Scully ached at the sight of this uncharacteristic
body language of her partner.
"It's good to be back Sir."
Skinner shot another look at Scully with a *God, I don't know what to say to
him* look.
"Did you have a specific case for Agent Mulder and myself?"
"Well . no . not exactly. I just wanted to see you, see if you were okay.
How you were coping."
"Well, we've only just got back and I think Agent Mulder needs some time to
adjust to his surroundings. Get to know the lay of the land." Get to know if
he can lay me in fifteen minutes if only he had a condom on him, she evilly
thought to herself.
"Take all the time you need Mulder. I just wanted to let you know that
everyone's behind you."
"Are they Sir? I wouldn't know I can't see them."
That rakish, manboy smile of his emanated from the previously blank face.
"Mulder!" Scully touched his arm.
"Sorry Sir."
"Anything that the Bureau can do Mulder. Just let me know. Anything."
Scully could see the sincerity etched into Skinner's strong face. He was
becoming less of an adversary with each passing day. "Go do the tour of your
office and then take the rest of the day off." You two deserve a bit of time
to yourselves he added to himself, silently.
"Thank you Sir."
Scully expected Mulder to rise, turn left as he had always done and head for
the door. When he slammed into Skinner's desk her jaw began to tremble. It
took all of her reserve not to take him arm and guide him away, instead
letting him learn, however harshly, from his mistakes.
"Let me show you out Agent Mulder."
End of Part3/5
Part 4/5
Just as the prey slips into sight and the predator makes one final bold
attempt to catch it, it slips away. As if it was never there. The goal that
was in sight missed. The feeling of self worth eroded. The frustration
tangible. The humility irrefutable.
As they made their way back to the basement she could feel Mulder's tenseness
in the rigidity of his arm muscles. Almost like a coiled spring. He was
moving faster than usual, his stick flailing around in front of him like an
antennae. She knew he was angry with himself for walking into the desk. She
was surprised how quickly he seemed to have lost his sense of direction. In
all senses of the word, she thought sadly.
"Why don't we go home now Mulder?" He tensed further beneath her fingers.
"NO."
The word was said with such ferocity that it almost bowled her over. They had
reached the elevator and he had stabbed at the button and hit it first time.
She felt like hugging him, but knew he would only see it as condescending even
though it wasn't meant that way.
The car arrived and she watched as he listened for the sound of people in it.
When he realised there were none, he made one swift wave of the stick hitting
both sides of the door before he strode in. God, he was having a hard time of
it. He was trying to be so brave, so normal. He sank against the wall and
looked up in the direction of the floors. For all the world he looked as
normal and he always had done.
Except.
Except for that damned stick.
The car stopped and he casually said. "Basement. Ex-photocopiers,
Ex-Agents."
A verbal aside, amusing to most, but to those who knew the heart of this
complex man, it was a strike against the world, against his life. The
previous and the present. And possibly the future.
He strode out again but then he stopped in his tracks and waited for her. "Do
you want a coffee from the machine before we start?"
Their office and the vending machine were in opposite directions and he tried
to smoothly cover his hesitancy about which way to go.
"No."
She took his elbow again and guided him down the corridor, through their
office door to his desk.
"On second thoughts I think I'll get that coffee. Sure you don't want one?"
"No. Thanks."
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Mulder sat for a while thinking over what had happened in Skinner's office.
He had felt totally humiliated. How in God's name could he work if he
couldn't even fucking navigate himself out of the AD's office?
He wasn't ready for this. Scully had been right. As ever. But when would he
ever be ready? If not now, when? He may be blind for the rest of his life.
He had to learn to cope now. But he was so used to being able to see. Stupid
remark he knew. But it was the truth. Now he could only hear and smell and
touch.
He pulled the chair up close to the edge of the desk and ran his fingertips
along the edge of it. The light touch felt almost sensual as he spread his
fingers out encompassing the contents of his messy work area.
First he sought the keyboard of his computer and then searched with his hands
to find off and on switches. He touched lamps and pens and felt where he kept
everything in his drawers. Systematically and methodically he set about
finding out where everything was in his new world. He would do this if it
killed him. He wasn't beaten yet.
Slowly he began to familiarise himself with the desk. Once this was in his
photographic memory, which had seemingly deserted him these last few weeks, he
would move on to the office and where the filing cabinets were. He would need
to make improvements to his general level of tidiness. He would need to be
more like Skinner. A place for everything and everything in its place.
How would he read the files though? A wave of panic washed over him. Could
he do this? Could he really do this, come back to work? When he'd calmed
down and the rational part of his brain took over again, he remembered
Braille. Braille, that was the answer. Or audio, or maybe even a talking
computer. There were ways, he just had to figure out what to use where, and
when.
Feeling slightly cheered he smiled and relaxed in his chair. He would beat
this thing. There had to be a way. It was then that his world turned upside
down again.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
She had stood watching him from the doorway and marvelled at how *at home* he
was at his desk. Today was a far cry from being able to hold down his job,
but he was trying.
She watched as his outspread fingers took in each and every curve and line of
the desk, the computer, the desk lamp. Systematically he searched and found
for on and off switches.
Opened each drawer, took out its contents and felt them, almost
photographing them in his mind for the next time, and the next time. Stop it.
This may not be permanent. But it may be. He's got to learn to cope with
it. She would do everything she could to help him but he had to learn to
cope.
Suddenly she saw a wave of panic rush over him as he picked up one of the
folders from the drawer. He had opened it and felt the papers with his
fingertips, drawing his middle finger across the page from left to right. Her
gut tightened as she realised he must be thinking about having all his files
transferred to Braille. She didn't know if she could watch him anymore. And
yet, she was transfixed by him. Couldn't take her eyes off him. He was
smiling and looking completely relaxed as he leaned back in his chair.
She almost made her presence known but saw him move again.
Leaning forward across the desk he used both hands to seek out the photograph
frame, the one he kept of Samantha. He traced around the frame and let his
fingers slide over the glass. Then he replaced it where he thought it had
come from.
Silence.
Nothing.
And then. "I'm sorry Sam. I'm so goddamn sorry." A silent tear slid down
his cheek and he brushed it away with an angry flick.
Then the phone rang.
It was his celphone which he quickly retrieved from his jacket pocket and went
to flip it open. It just slipped out of his hands and fell to the floor.
"Shit!"
Holding on the edge of the desk he lowered himself down on to the floor,
craning his head to better discern where the ringing noise was coming from.
He was on his hands and knees frantically searching for the offending
instrument when his hand touched it. He didn't realise that Scully had pushed
it toward him with her foot.
"Damn." As soon as he had picked it up from the floor it had stopped ringing.
Rage and anger spread across his face and he threw the phone at the wall
shouting and screaming expletives. Then he took his wrath out on his desk, he
pushed the papers left and right, the desk lamp toppled and fell and then he
felt for the photograph of Sam and hurled it in the same direction as the
'phone.
She felt helpless watching him rant and rave but knew that he needed some
release for this tension that had been building up in him over the past few
weeks. Still, she had to bring it to an end, before anyone else saw him.
He was leaning against the edge of the desk, breath ragged from rage when she
went to stand by the side of him. Taking both of his arms in her hands she
eased him away from the desk and made him sit down. Then she knelt down
before him, covering the hands that were alternately spread out on his legs
and then balled into fists beating out his anger and frustration. She knelt
before him for some time, stroking his hands, soothing him with her touch
before she spoke.
"Mulder. Let's go home."
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Dana Scully's Apartment
The drive back to her apartment had been uneventful. Mulder had sat rigid in
the passenger seat, his fists still balled. His jaw tense, his face
expressionless. He had pushed himself back into his own dark world, and not
his visual world. She couldn't reach him, not at the moment. He needed to
calm down before she tackled rationalising his fears with him. It wouldn't be
an easy task. It hadn't been before he lost his sight. Now, it would be nigh
on impossible.
Away from the scrutiny of the FBI, Mulder allowed himself to lean on Dana just
that little bit more. She took his arm and steadied him when he stumbled up
steps, pulled him away when he got too close to walls and he accepted this
help. In one way, she was pleased, that he was beginning to relinquish some
of that self-control of his. But a sadness pervaded his actions in that she
felt almost as if he had given up the fight before he took it on. Perhaps,
just perhaps, after all these years he just didn't want any more aggravation
in his life.
Finally, they reached her apartment door and she guided him through it, shut
it with her foot and sat him down on the couch. He just sat there, didn't say
a word, sat staring straight ahead like he had in the car. She didn't know
how to reach him. She sat down beside him and took his hand. No words were
exchanged. She just wanted him to know that she was there for him.
"I know." He said, at last.
"Know what Mulder?" She asked, astonished.
"I know that you're here for me. Thank you."
His shoulders sank down on the couch as he covered his face with his hands.
When she took them away they were wet with his tears. Kneeling beside him she
kissed each cheek in turn and then sought his mouth. He didn't respond but
she continued to touch him tenderly. Trying to convey with her touch what she
knew he could not see with his eyes. After a while she withdrew. Letting him
come round. Giving him some much needed space.
"What am I going to do Scully?"
Again she took his face in her hands and cried silent tears with him. "Go on
Mulder. That's all any of us can do."
"What if I don't want to?"
Fear stabbed at her heart like a red hot dagger. Christ don't say that
Mulder, don't leave me.
"That's not the Mulder that I know. And love." She added.
Reaching up he felt for her face and took it in his hands, his brow furrowed.
"Do you love me? Really love me?"
"Yes." She whispered in his ear. "Shall I show you how much?" Without
waiting for his answer she pulled him up from the couch and began to lead him
to her bedroom.
After leading him to the bed she began to undress him and he made no protest,
letting her. Quickly she flung her own clothes in the burgeoning pile on the
floor. When she turned round he was still sitting on the edge of the bed,
where she had left him. A stab of doubt hit her. Did he really want this?
Again, she knelt beside him putting her arms around his shoulders, began
peppering his neck with kisses.
Slowly he began to relax a little, enough to let her push him down on the bed
and lie beside him. He was totally naked and completely flaccid. Like the
previous times, she sat astride him and began to trace circles on his collar
bone, dipping down to kiss his lips, letting her nipples again drape lazily
across his chest. Leaving his mouth she dropped kisses on his throat and made
her way down to his chest. Kissing and stroking as she went.
He made no murmur, no moans, no sighs. Was he keeping himself in check or
just being stubborn? She pushed herself further down his legs and traced the
fine dark line of hair that led to his groin. Then she kissed where her
finger had traced. Her cheek touched his sex, but she avoided it and circled
round the dark mass of hair at the top of his legs. Nuzzling her nose into
it. Kissing and stroking him gently. Slowly, she nuzzled down to his inner
thigh and licked it with the tip of her tongue. He arched his back.
Encouraged, she made more effort to arouse him, darting back up to his sex and
brushing tantalizingly against it with her cheek. Slowly his erection began
to harden.
"Shall I take that as a yes?"
"If it's what *you* want."
"Only if it's what *you* want Mulder."
She pushed herself back up his body, lying on top of him and covered his mouth
with hers. She felt his arms go round her and she shuddered at his touch.
They kissed tenderly, then she broke the kiss, watching him earnestly.
"Mulder. You're not ready for this are you? I don't want to go on if this
isn't what you want."
She felt his arms tighten round her like coiled steel, he pressed his lips
against hers. "It is." He breathed into her mouth.
"Thank God, I'm going half crazy with desire for you here. If you'd have told
me ." He silenced her with another gentle kiss.
"Take me Dana. Love me."
Slowly, she slipped the condom onto him and eased herself down onto his
desire. He went rigid as she drew herself around him and then eased himself
back on the pillows. His eyes shut tight.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Tiny pinpricks of coloured light flashed before his eyes, travelled down to
his groin and seemingly danced their way back up his body.
His body melted in hers, a pool of liquid fire, on fire. Unable to respond,
his arms lay by his side. Comfortable and content to lie back and enjoy every
orgasmic moment. He had melted under her touch, had given himself to her
completely. Coherent thought had fled his body as she had lowered herself
onto his swollen shaft. And oh God, the heat. His heat was the centre of his
universe. All that mattered to him was his heat. The feelings of warmth that
surged in and up and around him. He wanted this release to her. Into her.
Through her. With her. Needed it with every fibre of his being.
He gasped with every movement she made as she milked him. His breathing
becoming more rapid as he tensed and flexed the muscles around his groin in a
vain attempt to stem the tide of pleasure he felt there. His eyelids
fluttering, his lip atremble. He opened his eyes, as if by this very act some
miracle would occur and he would at long last gaze into those eyes. Oh God
how much he wanted to see her. To be able to look into those eyes now and
convey how much he needed her. Her breath, heavy on his neck told him how she
felt but he needed to see that. He stared blankly at some spot on the ceiling
- he thought.
He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. She, in turn,
increased her pace encouraged by this contact, but this only served to further
increase his pleasure and his inability to react to her. His arms lay by his
sides again. Oh yes, oh yes, take me Dana, take me. He began slowly
thrusting with her, pushing up to her and then as his emotion overwhelmed him
he held her once again, using her as leverage to thrust with her. Matching
her stroke for stroke.
He was so close. He could feel the warm surge of his seed travelling up to
towards its' climax and he wanted it. Wanted it, wantedit, wantedit. So
goddamn much. Again his arms slipped from round her. His breath ragged,
palms pushed against the bed, his body arched up towards hers.
Now he was panting his need of her. God he ached for the pleasurepain of
this to come and wash over him, needed it so much. Needed her so much.
Needed it go on for ever. He wanted the release and the continuation all in
one painful all-consuming consummation. He tensed his muscles, tried to stop
it. His breathing ragged. Then a deep intake of breath. His face contorted,
the muscles almost mirroring the orgasmic release afforded his body.
He wanted this to go on for ever and end at the same time.
For ever.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Slowly she eased herself up and away from him, gyrating downwards each time
she let her body contact his again. Oh God this felt good. Tiny pinpricks of
electricity surged within her own moist centre as she slid up and down his
shaft.
She watched as his eyelids began to flutter and his breathing became more
rapid. He wasn't looking at her, he was concentrating on a spot on the
ceiling, or so it seemed. She knew how hard this must be for him. To have
all these feelings locked up for so long now and then not to be able to share
the intimacy of their gaze. Something that they had taken for granted all
these years. Just to be able to look at one another and know what the other
was thinking.
She increased her pace, encouraged by the raggedness of his breath and he in
turn wrapped his arms around her, using her body as a lever to push with her.
She could feel him near and she fought with herself to stop her own orgasm
engulfing her before she had chance to bring Mulder some much needed release.
Now, he was thrusting with her, matching her stroke for stroke. She was
having a hard time keeping up with him, where did he get that kind of strength
from when he was underneath? No time to think. His breathing turned to
panting and she could feel the warmth of that breath in her face as his lips
constantly formed the words, yes, oh yes, oh yes. Suddenly, he went rigid
beneath her, arched his back and threw back his head. A deep intake of breath
which he held for a few seconds and then he trembled as she felt him release
himself into her. Heard his low gutteral moan. Heard him cry her name.
"Sculleeeee!"
She held him tighter as her own orgasm ripped through her, riding the shock
waves of it together.
When she had recovered some she bent down and kissed his cheek. It was wet,
and salty.
"Are you okay?"
"I am now." His voice was ragged from his panting and the tears stuck in his
throat. "Thanks."
She watched him for some moments as he lay there, eyes wide open, silent.
Then she saw him shut his eyes up tight as his lips formed a tight line and an
almost imperceptibly ragged sigh escaped his lips.
"What's wrong?"
"I just wish ---"
"I know." She kissed him tenderly. "I love you Mulder."
"I know." A fresh wave of tears coursed down his cheeks. He didn't
know he could feel so happy.
End of Part 4/5
The helplessness, futility and humiliation that come with dependence rush with
speed to their ultimate conclusion. Anger. It is now that the predator
becomes the prey.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Three months have passed since I received that dreadful phone call from the
hospital telling me that Mulder had suffered a blow to the head which may have
severed the optic nerve.
I was as frantic then as I am now.
Mulder is coping well with his disability, in fact so well you may believe he
didn't have one. He has got it down to a fine art being able to manoeuvre
around the house and office. He rarely, if ever, uses a stick in the office
now. His photographic memory has served him well and he can now travel a
journey once and remember exactly where to go next time.
All of that is encouraging except for his anger level. He becomes
increasingly frustrated with even the smallest error. He magnifies it over
and over in his mind until he has built the proverbial mountain out of a mole
hill.
His sleep pattern is still erratic and sporadic to say the least. He still
finds little meaningful rest from sleep. His sexual appetite, far from
diminishing, has increased to being almost insatiable. I think that this is
the one time he feels an equal to me, when he doesn't need his eyes. This
seems to be the only time he feels he can truly relax and let his release wash
over him. Although he still insists that he can't go on top. I still make
love to him. He usually falls sound asleep in my arms within minutes of the
act being over and wakes refreshed at least eight hours later. Can I deny him
that?
I watch him sleeping now and I know I cannot. I love him too much. Want him
as much as he wants me. Need him as much as he needs me. We both give and
feed from the other. Neither of us complaining, both of us so happy.
Except.
Except for the blindness.
He is learning to cope *with* it far better than I am learning to *watch* him
cope with it. All of his current files have been re-written in Braille and he
has taught himself touch typing so that he can use any standard keyboard. As
always, I have to admire his courage and fortitude. At first I thought he may
be giving up, but he is more determined than ever now to carry on his search
for Samantha. His career has become uppermost in his mind and although he
believes he can still be a useful member of the FBI, I see the look in
Skinner's eyes when they meet. He has reduced our caseload dramatically but
he has not imparted this information to Mulder. I am at a loss to understand
why Mulder has not picked up on this. But when he has to use his other senses
to fine tune his world I expect that some of his previous *gifts* have got
lost in the overload.
I really don't believe that Skinner can cover for him much longer. I do what
I can but I find it difficult to be his eyes as well as watching his back.
I trace a finger down his warm lean back now as I think of him. He stirs and
I apologise for waking him. He seems to need more sleep now than he used to,
even though a lot of the time he doesn't get it. He's turning over to face me
now and wrapping his arms around me.
"Mmm Scully, you still awake?"
"Mmm."
He nuzzles down into my hair and begins to kiss my throat sending waves of
pleasure through me. I bury my face in his neck and shoulders and feel his
erection pressing against me. I shudder. I want him so much. Need him so
much. He seeks out my mouth and we begin a long, deep kiss. Harsh, hard lips
gyrating against one another. No tongues. Bearing down and down on me, hot
and hard.
He moves to my side and roughly encompasses my breast in his hand, moves his
kisses down from my throat to my breasts, nibbling and biting as he goes.
Quickly, he comes back up to my mouth, another rough kiss, he writhes with me.
Our need and passion overflow and we push against the other, rocking and
gyrating, our breathing harsh and fast. Calling each others name, kissing and
touching and writhing. We can't wait. Won't wait.
"Condom." His voice is dry, rasping, desperate.
My hands reach out instinctively to the drawer and rip the foil packet apart
with shaky hands. He can hardly bear to let me go long enough to slip it over
his erection. I have never known him so hard. His hands grasp and reach for
me, pulling me down on top of him, kissing me, never letting me come up for
air.
"Christ Scully I need you NOW. I'm gonna fucking explode. I need you. NOW."
I move to ease myself on top of him but he pushes me over onto my back. I
part my legs slightly and he pushes them out with his knees, he frantically
tries to get himself into position.
"Help me Scully. Fucking help me."
Just touching him brings forth a loud gutteral moan.
"Just get me in you. Christ Scully. I'm so close. I'm so goddamn fucking
close."
Quickly I guide him into me, pushing my legs as far apart as I can, to allow
him good access. He begins to thrust, deeper and deeper until the sweat is
pouring from him. He's relentless. Push. Push. Push. He shouts and swears
that he can't get me in the right position. That it isn't working. He
continues to pump and pump and pump. On and on he works like a madman. Until
I can take his anger no more. He can't go on. He's expended so much energy
getting mad, he's none left for the act. He collapses on top of me, ranting,
the words coming out like an express train.
"Scully I need you." He sounds so desperate. "Christ I'm so screwed up. So
fucking pent up I'm gonna explode."
Then his anger surfaces again and he rants in unison with his renewed
thrusting.
"I want to come in you. I want to fucking come in you, come in you, come in
you. Damn you WHY CAN'T I FUCKING COME IN YOU."
His muscles are coiled up like springs, his throat raspy from shouting. The
tears are washing down his cheeks in rivulets. This isn't the first time he's
been like this. He wants this release so much he can't let himself have it.
"Mulder. Let me go on top."
Gently I turn him over on his back and slip back on top of him. Slowly,
slowly, slowly I begin the process of making love to him. Not just an act of
sex. I kiss him tenderly and accept his anger when it surfaces.
"Faster Scully. Faster."
Now, I increase my pace, thrusting with him and watching the sweat sheen on
his face. He is so full of anger and this is his only release. He gets so
mad when he can't get this.
Again, though I slow it down. Slowly, I circle his sex with my own. Up and
down, up and down, teasing and tempting him. Kissing his face and cheek and
nose and forehead. Now he pants my name. His breathing is harsh and rasping,
panting and pulsing. He is so hot inside me I wonder he hasn't exploded
before. He's so tense tonight. I increase my pace and his face has now gone
into oblivion. He's too far gone in the pleasurepain now.
I wish his need of sex wasn't this great. I wish he could find another
release. We make love most days and I know he masturbates frequently, at
least twice a day. It's his only release from the pent up anger he feels. I
suppose this self gratification may seem strange to some people when you are
in a loving sexual relationship, but if he has need of that, who am I to say
if it is right or wrong. I see it as no judgement against me or the love he
feels for me. It is a need he has to fulfill. A pressure he has to release.
There are worse ways he could do that.
He is going over the edge psychologically though. He is becoming so dependent
on sex for his well being. Not that I'm complaining, but he seems to be
torturing
himself. He now begins to match my pace, stroking and thrusting with me.
"Oh God, come on, come on. COME ON." He urges himself, not me.
It seems that however fast I go it isn't enough for him.
"FASTER. I'm almost there."
So I go faster and still I can feel the frustration in him. The tenseness in
his body.
"Mulder."
"What?"
His eyes are black and darting, his passion unassailable. I can't satisfy
him.
"Mulder. Relax."
"I can't." His strangled voice replies.
I stop moving. He pushes underneath me, keeps going. Keeps the pace moving
along. He is breathless, ranting.
"DON'T STOP. Please Scully, don't stop. Please don't take me this far and
then stop. FASTER!!!"
"Relax Mulder. Relax." I stroke his head and smooth his hair, damp from the
sweat of his exertion. "Just relax."
I bend to kiss him, try to make him forget his own need. He returns the kiss
and I feel his body sag into the bed, his muscles relax.
The gentle touch has once more brought him back to sanity.
We kiss lazily, as I circle him once again, whispering to him, and with a few
more gentle thrusts I feel his back arch and a loud groan ensues from his
mouth.
"SCULLEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" He screams.
At last he is spent, sated. I am exhausted, sore, unfulfilled. He will sleep
tonight. But what of tomorrow? This can't go on. It just can't.
*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
I'm sitting here, outside Hans Weber's office. I know that Mulder needs help
and I know that I can help him, but there is only so much I can do. Part of
his frustration is his inability to continue productively with his search for
Samantha. He won't admit it but he knows deep down that he has lost his
independence. He doesn't know what to do. But what can he do? Perhaps
this is the right thing *to* do. Mulder would stop at nothing to find a cure
for any ailment I had. I know that. But he's always chasing his rainbows.
Maybe it's time to stop. Stop chasing rainbows. Mulder may never see again,
and yet Sam is still so important to him. Understandable I know, but perhaps
our energy should be directed into some kind of anger management programme for
Mulder. Helping Mulder to live for the future, not in the past.
I don't know. I just don't know anymore. The days are becoming increasingly
long and the love that Mulder and I have found is now tinged, not only with
his blindness, but also with the one-sidedness of our lovemaking. We love
each other desperately and he is responsive to me. But. I seem to have to
give him so much to afford him any release. Our sessions, as I have begun to
think of them, do nothing more than help him sleep and keep me awake. I have
taken to finding my own release in the dark.
I know his anger isn't directed at me but I still have to deal with it.
Alone. Like I seem to deal with my life, with Mulder. I have to deal with it
all.
Alone.
I have never felt so alone. Even before, when Mulder and I were just
partners, I never felt this alone. A harsh parody of two bittersweet lives.
It seems nothing comes without a price.
I check my watch, it's almost a quarter after three. My appointment is
scheduled for 3.30 pm. I rise and make my way to my car. I can deal with
this.
Alone.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
Alone.
I have never felt so alone in my life.
Strange that now, when Scully and I have finally, after all these years,
admitted to each other how we feel, that I should feel so alone.
Three months - three months from her life. Whoever thwhacked me one on the
head should have done a better job. If I wasn't here now, she could get on
with her life and maybe, maybe if I was dead ...
Maybe if I wasn't a part of the X-Files, if she wasn't a part of the
X-Files. Christ, what lies we trade in. What deceit we are a party to.
What fucking use is any of it anymore? I ball my fist and thump the arm of
the chair. I don't know who else to hit out at. I can't see anymore. I'm
just a goddamn noose around her neck. I would be better off dead.
She thinks I don't know where she's gone today. Thinks I don't know she gone
to see Hans Weber. But I do. She thinks by talking to him she's betraying
me. She isn't. I know that I need help. I wish it could just be from Scully
but I know that I'm killing her, destroying her, bit by bit by fucking bit.
Even before, when we were still professional partners, I was still killing her
even then.
She tells me it's not my fault that I can't see. I know that rationally it
isn't. But --- if I hadn't been there, chasing rainbows again, looking for
the elusive lead, running off and leaving her. If I hadn't been doing all
that I would be still be here for her now, whole and healthy and able to take
care of her. Look out for *her*. It shouldn't be the other way around. It
isn't right. It isn't fair. Nothing is right and fair anymore. Not in the
dark world we both live in. You don't have to turn off someone's internal
light to keep them living in the dark. Cancerman and his cronies can do it
with words, actions, lies and deceit.
When she comes home I'm going to tell her how much I love her. I don't know
what else to do now. It's all I can give her. I have to stop hurting her.
I know why she's gone to see Hans Weber. She's worried about my anger level.
I get so frustrated when we make love. The time when I need to see into her
eyes, to *see* that she loves me, that I'm worthy of her love. Her touch and
her words tell me she loves me, but I need to look into her eyes.
I need that.
I don't think she understands that.
Tears well up in my eyes. When did I get to cry this much? It's all I ever
seem to do nowadays. Cry. Like some goddamn fucking child. If I can't cope
I cry. I'm a grown man for godsakes and I cry. But I can't keep all of this
pain locked up inside of me forever. Dana tells me that and I know it to be
true. I will always torture myself for all the things that I could have done
right in my life and didn't. But I need this release - psychologically I need
this.
I blink these latest guilt-ridden droplets from my lids and let them fall down
onto a face I've not seen in three months. Once I couldn't remember what
Scully looked like. Now. Now I can't remember what Fox William Mulder looks
like. Every morning when I shaved, his face would haunt me again and again.
Sometimes I wouldn't want the reflection to stare back at me. Couldn't
believe that behind that facade lay the heart of a man who was capable of
losing a sister, losing his partner, losing his mind almost. But what I
wouldn't give now for just one glimpse of that face again.
What I wouldn't give for a chance to see the colours of the world in all their
shades and hues. To see my Dana, see her eyes, see the love that has been
hidden behind those eyes for so long. To hold her face in my hands and to see
it.
I look down at my hands on my lap.
WHAT?
I look down at my hands on my lap. I did think that. If I thought that I
must have seen that. Did I see that? I pinch myself. God, I must be
dreaming. No. No. NOOOOOO!!!!
It's blurry but it's there. Blurry round the edges - but it's THERE. Omigod,
omigod, omigod. Yessssssss!! I wiggle my fingers in front of me. Hold them
up, one, two, three, four, five. I can see each and every goddamn lovely
little one of them. Christ I can see. They said it could happen. Dana
reasurred me that it could happen. And it has.
JESUS. SWEET JESUS.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
I watch her now as she walks through the door.
"I'm home."
"In here." I shout.
She comes into the sitting room and I see just what these three months have
done to her. Her face is pale and drawn, her shoulders slumped, she kicks off
her shoes and she can barely hide the grimace of tiredness on her face.
"How was your day?"
"Fine."
"How are you?"
"Fine. I'm fine."
She walks towards me, so slowly, when did she get to move so slowly? I hold
out my arms to her. She smiles tiredly and comes to curl up at my feet.
"You don't look fine."
She looks up at me, astonished, those beautiful blue eyes of hers brimming
with a thousand unspoken questions. She kneels before me, taking my face in
her hands.
"You can see?"
"Yes. It's only just come back. A couple of hours ago."
Her bottom lip trembles and she allows a rare tear to slide down her cheek.
"We need to get you checked out Mulder."
I pull her towards me. "After."
"After what?"
"After you've looked at me."
She smiles and the liquid pools of blue speak their secrets to me. That look
in her eyes assuaged all my doubts and fears. I saw what I needed and drank
from it. God knows I have to give all of this back to her. I will. For the
past three months I've had to see the world *through* her eyes. But I've made
a promise to myself. And now I make it to her.
"Dana." I hold her face in my hands. "I have something to tell you."
"What?"
"It took just a moment, one isolated moment in time for me to lose my sight.
It's made me realise that in each and every isolated moment of time it is
possible to lose something. I lost Samantha ..."
"You didn---"
"Hush. Let me finish. I lost Samantha, I lost you, I lost my sight. All of
this has made me realise even more how precious things are to us. I can't
change anything, try as I might, I can never change the past. I can only
attone for it in the present as best I can. But what I can do is vow to
savour the moment. Savour it because I don't know if in the next second I'll
lose it again."
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
She placed her hands over his and squeezed them gently. All of the anger of
the past
months had dissipated. Her irrationally rational Mulder was back. With all
his fears
and obsessions intact. But he was back. With all his faults she loved him,
respected
him, revered him. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him either.
"You're not going to lose me Mulder."
"I might and I don't want to take the chance again. These last three months
have been tough on both of us and I've had to see the world through your eyes
Dana. You've been my rock, my anchor, my lighthouse. Guiding me. Loving
me."
"And I'd do it all over again. You know that."
"Of course I do. But what I never do is see things from your point of view.
I accept your reasonings, I respect your opinions but I never see the world
through your eyes. I promise you, here and now, that I'll try."
He held up a hand to her and smiled.
"I'm not sure I'll always succeed, but I'll try."
"I know you will Mulder. I know you will."
Slowly she climbed up to join him in the armchair. They stayed
cocooned in each other's arms for what seemed forever . The hospital
could wait. Everyone and everything could wait. They had waited long enough.
A little time together.
Who would deny them that?
After all who knows what tomorrow will bring?
THE END
Part 5/5
Thanks for reading thus far. Any comments to Yvonne_Richards@msn.com
If you enjoyed this and want more, my other stories are archived on Gossamer
and this
and future stories are also available on XFCreative (Jeannine Ackerson's new
list).
Do I Have a Choice Mulder? 1/1
The Long Hard Road 1/1
Her Last Gift 1/1
The Unspoken Truth 1/5
Casting Out Demons 1/3
Ghosts 1/5
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