alive

From: Easterhawk & Eagleclaw

Date: 12 Jun 1999 07:36:20 -0700

Subject: xfc New: Alive NC-17 part 1 of 10



From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw"



TITLE: Alive part 1 of 10



AUTHOR: Easterhawk

E-MAIL ADDRESS: aerierlh@gnv.fdt.net

DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere is fine, just let me know so I can come and

visit!!

DISCLAIMER: Not mine (I wish!) - the belong to Chris Carter and the

extremely talented David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson! Bless them!

SPOILER WARNING: Through "The Unnatural"

RATING: NC-17

CLASSIFICATION: SA MSR MF m/f Rape (past)

KEYWORDS: SA MSR MF m/f Rape (past)



SUMMARY: Mulder must deal with issues from his past before he can live in

the present. Scully helps him through it all.



AUTHOR's NOTES: This is my first work in the X-Files Universe! Many

thanks

to Texxasrose who lovingly edited this for me! Without her, this would

have

been left in the trash heap!!! Feedback is GREATLY appreciated!



For me, it seemed as if time had slipped into some unknown vortex

and

disappeared. My senses were imprisoned; my logical, analytical thoughts

were effectively silenced before they could even begin to voice their

protests. All that mattered was the feel of the bat in my hand, how it

made

my entire body tingle each time we made contact with the ball, like an

electrical current passing through my very being. It was a charge, of

sorts, that filled my body and kept me focused, a fracturing of all that

had seemed important in the past, breaking it down into millions upon

millions of charged particles that seemed to move along rapidly through

my

body. One word, alone, was enough to describe the way I was feeling:

alive.

For the first time in so long I could not remember the last time I had

experienced this feeling; I felt alive. And grounded. Grounded not by my

science, but by the earth beneath my feet, by the solid feel of the

baseball bat in my hands and, most importantly, by Mulder's arms which

held

me, not restrictively, not desperately, not quite passionately, just

securely. It was a rare and special and, ultimately, comfortable feeling

unlike any I had ever experienced in my life.



I belong here, I thought to myself at the time, and 'here' had not

so much

to do with a baseball field in the middle of the night as it had to do

with

the man behind me. Mulder. My partner. My best friend. So much more than

any words can describe. Our relationship had been, for so long,

undefinable. I could not begin to put into words what we meant to each

other. To say that I loved him was inadequate on some levels because what

I

felt for him went beyond what is so often mistaken for love. On another

level, too, it was an inadequate word because we were not lovers in the

physical sense. Yet, that evening, in his arms, I began to feel the line

between friendship and something more begin to blur and I realized that

we

could never fit any true definition. We were deeper than that, more

elemental.



I could feel his breath teasing the side of my face as he whispered

to me.

I could hear the words he was saying - casual and teasing yet serious at

the same time - but could make no sense of them. The rush of feelings was

keeping me from ordering my thoughts, drowning me in a chaos that was

not

completely unwelcome. His tone of voice was lulling me into a state of

relaxation while his words affirmed so many things that I had felt were

lost between us recently. I had called into doubt the nature of our

relationship, questioned his trust in me, feared that we would never be

able to return to the place where we had almost been. Then, in his own

way,

he had brought us back together again.



I was listening to his words, but I didn't really want to hear

them. I

told him to shut up, that I wanted to play ball, but what I really wanted

was to let myself float on this sea of sensory overload. The feelings

were

so much more real to me at that moment and they were all that I could

handle. He was quiet for a moment, but, soon he was prattling on again in

his typical Mulder fashion. The feel of his hand against my hip, holding

him to me, was so much more powerful, connecting, that I let the words

float past me almost unnoticed. In my mind, I moved his hand a few inches

closer to my center, imagining the feel of him there. He was talking

about

900 numbers and I was picturing him melting inside of me. I was lost in

my

fantasy, each though, each word, punctuated by the swing of the bat, the

contact of the ball, the surge of electricity and the increasing

closeness

of his body against mine. I almost missed what he said, almost allowed

the

words to slip by, unnoticed, in my blissful haze. But I didn't.



He was talking, nonstop. "...my ditching, and not always trusting

you, and

the truth about Diana, I owe you that, listening to your theories, and

all

the times you could have left and reason would have told you to go, I

love

you, even at times when I drag you off into stupid situations in the

middle

of the night, and haunted houses with over-ambitious ghosts, flukemen and

monsters like Padgett...."



I dropped the bat and the ball whizzed past us and into the chain

link

behind home plate. I had heard those three words before. Once, that was

an

excusable mistake, a drug induced haze perhaps, but twice? Once, I had

allowed myself to believe that the words had not been for real. My own

voice cracked and strangled as I forced a response. "What?" I asked him,

looking up at him with what may have been the most perplexed expression I

have ever mustered and turning in his arms to force him to loosen his

grip

and allow me to look into his eyes.



"You have to swing the bat, Scully." he replied, "This is baseball,

not

dodgeball." His eyes twinkled mischievously, but they also hid something

else. I could see this, clearly, as he forced himself to look me in the

eye

without concern.



A small voice, youthfully indignant, interrupted my chance for

further

unspoken communion with Mulder. "I gotta go home soon, Mister. Are we

done

here?" Mulder released me, distancing himself from the confrontation, and

casually reached for his wallet. Mulder paid the boy and watched him walk

off down the field, hands in his pockets, whistling to himself in the

carefree way of children who are unafraid of the dark.



As soon as we were officially alone, he did not turn back to me.

His whole

body exuded a tension that I had not seen in him before. "So," he cleared

his throat several times, still staring off into the distance. "So, do

you

still believe I don't know how to have fun on my day off?"



I was not prepared to back down so easily this time. "What did you

just

say, Mulder?" I asked him, taking one tentative step closer to his back,

bridging the distance as slowly as possible, afraid that, this time, he

might be the one to run away.



"Fun, Scully. Was this acceptable to your idea of fun?"



He was backpedaling, retracing his step, and I had to keep up with

him.

"No. That's not what I meant, Mulder. I was talking about earlier. What

did

you say before that?" One step closer and I saw him shift his weight away

from me, maintaining our distance.



"Before what, Scully?"



He still had not turned away from the darkness, made no effort to

face me

as we spoke. The darkness, so comforting to me before, began to take on

an

almost sinister feel, oppressive and cold and alone. Where once there had

been the comfort of his arms around me, now there was nothing but space

and

the overpowering charge of fear. I was no longer willing to just let it

end

this way. So many of our nights and days had ended like this, alone and

frightened and sad and hurt.



"Before, Mulder. Before I dropped the bat." My voice was,

amazingly,

stronger this time than I had imagined it could be and I used that moment

of courage to allow me to take one, far less tentative, step towards him.



"Flukemen, Scully. I was talking about Flukemen. Surely you can't

have

forgotten that experience."



I could hear the fear in his voice, more than just nervousness, but

a real

and oppressive terror. All at once, I realized how important this moment

was to me, to him, to us, even. The choice was mine. He had said the

words,

twice, and it was my turn to take the next step, to carry us forward to

the

next level or to take us back, safely, to the place where we had been

before. I covered the last two steps until I stood behind him, close

enough

to feel the heat of his skin, but not yet touching. My answer, my

decision,

had been made many years ago. I had no more doubts, no more desire to

hedge

the issue. I stared at the back of his head, level with where his eyes

would be should he turn and face me, and gave voice to my decision. "I

love

you, Mulder."



We stood there, frozen for one second, then five, then ten, then

thirty.

Finally, he released a breath that he had been holding inside of him and

I

watched as the tension fled from his body, his shoulders dropped first,

then his knees as he collapsed to the ground before me. He fell to his

knees and bowed his head as if in prayer and I heard the breath, as it

escaped him, turn into sobs that racked his body and shook my soul.

Mulder anger, I was familiar with. Mulder angst, even, was

something I had

seen, first hand, on many occasions. But this, this was different. I had

never seen him truly cry. The anguish and pain I heard in those sobs tore

my heart from my chest in a manner much more real than even what Padgett

had done. I knelt beside him, afraid to touch him but wanting, at the

same

time, to gather him into my arms and give back to him the safety he had

given me. Finally, when I could bear it no longer, I tentatively placed

my

hand on his shoulder. He trembled, but did not pull away. I turned his

body

towards me and searched his face, seeing the tears that coursed down his

cheeks, the red of his eyes. "I love you, Mulder. It's okay to feel

this."



He was staring into my eyes now, and I could read all of the

feelings that

he could not express in words, fear and shame most of all. When he

finally

spoke, it was not to say that he returned my feelings, but to beg for

something that meant more to him, at the time, than my love. "Forgive me,

Scully."



I did not know, then, exactly what it was that he needed me to

forgive him

for, but it seemed to be the only thing that I could do to relieve his

pain. I took him into my arms and he collapsed against me, soaking my

jacket with his tears. "Of course, I forgive you. Just let me love you,

Mulder." I must have said the right thing, because the tears began to

flow

more freely, although I would not have believed it possible, and he held

on

to me as though he were afraid that I might disappear into the night. We

stayed that way until the air began to take on the chill of that time

between late night and early morning.



Finally, he broke away, helping me to my feet without saying a

word. He

took my hand in his and we walked, in silence, to my car. His own car was

nowhere in sight. We were close, I knew, to his apartment, so I let him

in

to the passenger seat and took my own place behind the wheel. It seemed

the

right thing to do.



TITLE: Alive part 2 of 10



I don't really remember many details about the brief trip in my car from

the baseball field to Mulder's apartment. We didn't talk at all. He was

no

longer sobbing, but, from time to time, I could hear him catch his breath

with a shudder that indicated to me that all was not yet well in his

troubled mind. He let go of my hand long enough for me to make the trip

around the car from the passenger's side, where I had securely deposited

him and ascertained, before closing his door, that he had, in fact,

promptly fastened his seat belt, to the driver's side. He had kept his

distance while I fastened my own seat belt, started the ignition and

turned

on the head lights. However, as soon as I was able to take one hand off

the

steering wheel and rest it casually on the gear shift mechanism, I found

that it was instantly covered by one of his. He was not holding, not

rubbing, but just resting there, with his hand covering mine, and he

stared

out the window of the car at the traffic, heavy even at 3am in

Washington,

DC. We were about to make a connection of some sort, or we already had

and

I didn't quite know what it was.



When we arrived at his apartment, he let go of my hand and quickly

got out

of the car, so quickly, in fact, that he was half way to the door of the

apartment building before I even had a chance to shut off the ignition,

turn out the headlights, remove my seat belt and exit the vehicle. It was

at this point that I realized that he was, once again, running away. I

admit it, I was not exactly as understanding as I could have been, given

all that I already knew about Mulder, and trust, and fear and whatever

else

it was that kept his emotions at bay when it came to us. But, to be

perfectly honest, I was angry. No, I was more than angry. I was pissed.

He

was the one who had coerced me out to a deserted ball field in the middle

of the night just so he could get his hands on my body. He was the one

who

had said those three little words, not once now, but twice. And, finally,

he was the one who had broken down and sobbed, not just cried, but

sobbed,

on his knees, in the dirt, and begged for my forgiveness when I told him

that I returned those feelings.



Okay, so this was not exactly your usual declaration of love

between two

people. When have we ever been normal? I wasn't expecting hearts and

flowers. I wouldn't want those things from him. But he was running away

and

that would definitely not have been an acceptable ending to such an

emotionally charged evening. "Mulder!" I screamed at him, "Where in the

hell do you think you're going?"



I got the car door shut and locked and started after him. He

stopped

walking, just stared off into the distance and waited for me to catch up

to

him. When I reached my usual place at his side, he turned to face me for

the first time all evening. "Go home, Scully. This was a mistake. I'm

sorry."

Wrong answer, Mulder. That is exactly what went through my mind as

he said

those words. Not hurt or loss or anything like that, simply wrong answer.

I am not a stupid woman. You can't just push me away that easily, not

when

I know that you really don't want to. "No. Mulder. I am not leaving here

until you tell me what it is about this evening that you see as a

mistake."



"Scully, please...."



"No. You are not getting out of it this time, Mulder. So, we can

either

stay out here and talk where all of the neighbors can see us, or we can

go

upstairs to your apartment and sit down like two rational adults and have

this conversation in private."



"Fine," was his only reply and he turned back towards the apartment

building, with me firmly in tow this time.



So this was how we ended up back at Mulder's apartment, in the

aftermath

of what was almost a real admission of mutual love, sitting as far apart

as

possible from each other on Mulder's sofa in the darkness. Well, in the

near darkness. The television was on, as always, with the volume muted,

and

the fish tank cast an eerie green glow about the room as well. We sat in

silence for so long that I almost lost my nerve, but, finally, I realized

that, if this conversation was ever going to happen, I had to be the one

to

begin.



"Mulder, what is it? Why does the fact that I tell you that I love

you

hurt you this much?" I wanted to reach for his hand as I said this, but I

didn't. I kept my voice as level as possible and trained my eyes on his

face with as much compassion as I could muster in spite of the fact that

I

was still angry and frustrated and not just the least bit confused.



"Scully, I just can't. I need you to understand this. I can't."



"Can't what, Mulder?"



"This, Scully. This."



He was becoming more and more panicked. I could feel the tension

building

up inside of him as he spoke to me. Whatever it was that he felt he could

not handle, I began to realize that it was something more than just his

feelings for me. I slid closer to him on the sofa, prepared to make a

grab

for him if the need arose. "Mulder, whatever it is, you can tell me."



"Things were fine just the way they were, Scully. I should have

just left

this alone. I shouldn't have crossed that line."



"What line, Mulder?"



"You know exactly what line I'm talking about. Don't give me

that..."



"You mean the line between the truth and the lies?"



That one floored him. I knew what he was talking about. I knew he

was

referring to the fact that he felt that we had somehow crossed the line

between friends and partners into something more. But I realized

something

in that moment. We had already crossed that line a long, long time ago

when

we started to have those feelings for each other. Admitting those

feelings

was just a matter of crossing the line between the truth and the lies

that

we had been telling each other daily in an effort to camouflage our

feelings.



"What?" was all he managed to croak out in response. I knew I was

finally

gaining some ground.



"The only line we've crossed, Mulder, is the line between being

completely

honest with each other about our feelings and telling each other little

white lies to avoid the ramifications of that honesty. I'm ready for

truth,

Mulder. I have trusted you for so long with most of my secrets. Now, you

have them all. I love you. I have loved you for quite a while. I'm not

sure

how long; I just know that it has been a while. I have no regrets about

loving you. My only regret is that I didn't admit this to you sooner,

when

you were ready for me to believe you."



"Scully, I'm not sure that I would have been ready then, either. I

just

can't do this and I wish you could just accept that." He turned away from

me and the defeat was evident in his voice.



"No. I can't just accept that. I have the truth now, Mulder, and I

can't

just let us go back to where we were before. What is it that you are so

afraid of? Tell me. Let me in, please. Just don't run away anymore." I

started to cry a little bit then, beginning to feel as if I were losing

ground faster that it could be regained.



"Scully, I can't do this to you. I can't ask you to understand

this. It

isn't fair to you. You understand so much about me. You put up with so

many

things that other people would run from. You stand beside me when all the

rest of the world is ducking for cover. I can't add this to your

burdens."



"Loving you is not a burden. I want this. You have shown me tonight

that

everything I have ever hoped for is in reach. I never believed that you

could possibly love me, Mulder. You, of all people. What would you want

with me? And then, tonight, I realized that, maybe, just maybe, there was

a

future in this world for Fox Mulder and Dana Scully as something more

than

friends, something deeper than partners, something quite a lot like

lovers.

So maybe we aren't exactly traditional. Most people kiss after they

confess

their love to one another. But I can wait for that. just don't shut me

out."



Mulder took a deep breath and I saw his eyes change color in the

low

light. They went from hazel to almost black and I could see, too, that he

was fighting back another round of tears. He reached out towards me with

his hand and I covered the distance in record time, taking his hand in

mine

and pulling him into my arms all in one swift motion. I stroked the back

of

his head, letting my fingers comb through the softness of his hair. I

knew

that he needed time to face whatever it was that was keeping us apart. As

I

held him there, I let my mind wander back to the way I had felt in the

ball

field as he had held me in his arms. Alive. He had made me feel alive. I

concentrated on that word and tried to somehow project that feeling into

Mulder. I know, this seems like a very un-Scullylike thing to do, but

Melissa used to do it to me all the time when we were kids. She'd

concentrate on a feeling or an emotion and she was able to actually make

me

feel it. I don't know how it worked, but I just felt as though I had to

try

something.



I continued to stroke his hair and gradually I let my fingers roam

down

his shoulders and his back, massaging gently. "Mulder," I whispered to

him,

"It's okay to feel. I feel. You know what I feel when I'm with you? I

feel

alive." I just kept on whispering to him until he was ready to speak.

When

he did, he seemed to have regained some of his usual calm. However, he

also

seemed to have distanced himself a bit more than usual. There was a

detachment about him that I knew was designed to keep whatever this was

that he was about to tell me from hurting him.



"Okay, Scully, you win." His voice was thick and almost frightening

in its

intensity. "I'll tell you why we can't have this, why I can't have this,

but only because I know that, once you have heard all that I have to say,

you will want to leave. You will want to leave not only this apartment,

but

you will also want to put as much distance between you and me as is

possible. So, agent Scully, if you don't want to give up the illusion

that

you have of me now, tell me to stop. We can go our separate ways and you

can remember me the way I was to you before tonight. But, if you really

want to hear the truth, then don't say a word. Don't try to touch me.

Just

let me talk. And. when I have told you this story in its entirety, you

may

leave. And I won't follow."



I was terrified. I had wanted him to open up to me, to tell me what

was

going on inside of him. But this was frightening. I wanted to tell him

that, no matter what, I would not leave him, but all I could do was nod

and

let him proceed. The story that followed horrified me beyond description,

sickened me, angered me, saddened me. I felt all of these things for

Mulder, not about him. What I could see and he could not was the simple

fact that he was the victim. And I thanked a God whose existence I could

not prove that this beautiful man was still alive. And I made a silent

vow,

to myself and to him, that I would never stop trying to erase his pain.



From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw"

TITLE: Alive part 3 of 10





Over the next two hours, Mulder spoke in a clinical, almost

unemotional

manner about his life, the personal aspects of which I realized I knew

very

little, from the time after Samantha disappeared until the time we met.

He

never looked at me. He never moved from his seat on the sofa. I never

touched him, though there were many, many moments when all that I wanted

to

do was take him in my arms and hold him forever. I knew then, beyond all

hesitation, two things. I could never make him whole again, and I would

never, ever leave him while I was still alive and in control of my own

destiny. This was his story, as I remember it, and I think that I always

will remember it:



**************************





I knew that, once this was all said and done, Scully would leave.

She

would be gone for good, and I would not be able to blame her. But, at

least

I could comfort myself in the knowledge that she would be safe. Once I

got

started, I realized that it wasn't going to be all that hard to tell her.

I

found that I could distance myself from my life just as easily with this

as

I had with my love for Scully.



"After Samantha died my parents didn't say very much to me at all.

My

mother, she was in a state of shock, I think. I don't really believe that

she ever meant to stop loving me, but I don't think she had a choice."



"My father, on the other hand, was hiding something from us all. I

knew

that, even then. He knew where she was all along, but he couldn't bring

her

back. So he had to find a scapegoat, someone to blame for his mistake,

for

the fact that, I now believe, he had chosen the wrong child to let go of.

It should have been me. They could have lived without me. They couldn't

live without Sam." Just like I knew that, when all was done, I would not

be able to live without Scully. This was the beginning of my very own,

personal end, my descent into whatever hell I had avoided until this

point.



"Sam was the brightest point of their lives. I was just another

child, a

mouth to feed that would not go away. My father didn't speak to me much

before Sam disappeared. Afterwards, he never spoke to me at all. He

ignored

my existence, which was a blessing."



Except for the times he would walk past me in the hall and hit me,

for no

reason other than the fact that he was drunk and angry and needed to take

it all out on someone. But I didn't tell Scully that part. Not right

away.

It didn't seem important.

"That was just the way it as for us, until one night. Sam had been

gone

almost a year, and he came to my room in the middle of the night. I

wasn't

asleep, I remember that, although it must have been very, very late. He

had

been drinking, heavily, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath even

before he sat down on the edge of my bed."



I am cursed with an eidetic memory, so these facts will be etched

in my

brain forever. However, the good part about that was the fact that I

could

tell her everything he said to me. I hoped, at the time, that she would

realize just how right my father had been in his description of me.



"Fox," he said to me "I'm going to tell you something, something

that you

will want to remember for the rest of your miserable existence. You are

worthless. Your life means nothing to me. Do you want to know why?" And,

when he asked me this, I knew that, no matter what I said, he was going

to

tell me anyway. "You are worthless because you have destroyed our lives.

You should have been the one to leave, not her. What you don't understand

is that no man deserves to be loved. You have to earn that love by

strength

and heroic actions. Men was put on this earth to take care of women, to

make them happy. You, Fox, have not done that. You, and you alone, let

your

sister down. You destroyed your mother's life. Do you understand me, Fox?

Do you really understand how worthless you are?"



I started to cry, his words hurt me so badly. I didn't understand

how I

could have prevented Sam's abduction, but I knew that I had somehow

failed

her, failed my mother. I wanted to cry again as I was telling Scully all

of

this, but I knew that I couldn't let that happen. I did not want her

pity.

I didn't get my father's pity.



"As soon as he heard me crying, he got angry, more so than I had

ever seen

before. He grabbed me by the collar of my pajamas and pulled me upright

in

the bed. Then he hit me. Not an open handed slap, but a closed fist punch

across my jaw."



"You are shit, Fox. Shit! You are not my son and you never will

be!"

Those were his final words to me. We never spoke of that evening again.

He

never came to me again, either. We lived as if the whole thing had never

happened. The next day, I stayed home from school with a bruised nose and

a

blackened eye. My mother never said a word. She knew. She just didn't

care."



I had to stop here, for a moment, and collect my thoughts. I was

telling

her more than I needed to. I could see that she was not moving away. I

could sense her, just a few feet away, wanting to wrap her arms around

me,

comfort me, and I could not let that happen. If I let her inside, then it

would be impossible for me to tell her the next part, the part that she

needed to know to understand just how right my father was.



"I existed, from that point on, with those words in my head on a

daily

basis. My father was right, I had failed Sam. I never dated because I was

afraid that I would fail someone else. I did not deserve love. When I got

to England to go to school, I still had not planned on becoming involved

with anyone. But Phoebe had other ideas. At first, it seemed as if she

wanted to be my savior, like she was on some kind of a one woman mission

to

rescue the dark, mysterious man from the demons of his past."



Kind of reminded me of you, Scully. But I couldn't tell you that.

Or,

maybe I could have. Maybe then you would have seen just how dangerous it

was for you to get involved with me.



"She was a bit of a control freak, though. Everything had to be

done her

way. When she found out that I was - inexperienced - she took it upon

herself to educate me in the ways to please a woman. The first time we

actually had sex, I guess I was a little overeager. Anyway, it didn't

last

very long and she was disappointed, to say the least. So, from then on

out,

she decided that I needed to learn control. Bondage, they call it. That

was

her thing. I was to be her servant. When I reached the point at which she

felt I was worthy, then I would be allowed to actually have sex with her.

Until that point, I was to touch her and please her and make her come as

many times as she wanted. In whatever way that she wanted. Some nights, I

was good enough for her. Other nights, she would leave me so bottled up I

thought that I was going to explode. But I couldn't do anything about it

because I knew, in my soul, that I really was not worthy. I was shit. She

was right. I should have been thankful for the little bit of love that

she

did bestow upon me. And I was."



I wanted to make absolutely certain that Scully understood me. I

didn't

want her to think that what my father had said to me was wrong. She had

to

understand that I knew he was absolutely right about me. Then, and only

then, could I make her see just how evil this thing was that I had done.



"One night, however, I was running late. I was supposed to have

been at

her place by eight, but I had some last minute work to do on a paper that

was already late and I got stuck at the library until after nine. When I

finally reached her place, I let myself in, as always. She wasn't alone.

There was another man in the apartment with her. In the bed with her,

actually, and she was giving him pleasure in all the ways that she said I

wasn't worthy of. I went insane. Here was this stranger, someone she had

never seen before that night, in our bed, and she was giving him all of

the

things that I had longed for. She looked up and saw me standing in the

doorway."



"Fox," she said, "you were late. See what happens to disobedient

little

boys? They are never worthy. They never get to have any fun. Sit down and

watch, Fox. Watch what it's like for a real man."



I was racing through my story now, getting to the most important

part, the

one thing that Scully had to know about me in order to understand just

how

afraid she should be of this thing within me, this beast that I become

when

I think that I am actually worthy of love.



"I was frozen. I didn't know what to do. And then, this stranger

grabbed

her by the hair and flipped her over onto her back and started fucking

her,

really fucking her. She was screaming in pleasure and he was pounding

into

her and I couldn't stand it any longer. I grabbed him and pulled him off

her and started pounding the crap out of him. I think I broke his nose

and

maybe a few of his teeth in the process, but the next thing I knew he was

grabbing his clothes and running out of the apartment. I looked over at

Phoebe, still sitting on the bed, and she was laughing. The bitch was

laughing, hysterically."



"Poor little Fox. He's gotten himself all worked up. What's the

matter,

Foxy boy?" She asked, between laughs. "Can't stand to see another man, a

real man, take your place?"



I didn't know what to say. "I thought you were special. I thought

you

loved me." In reality, what I was saying was that I had actually thought

that I could deserve her love. I had forgotten, temporarily, what my

father

had tried to instill within me.



"Love, Fox? Really. How naive can you be? I don't love you. You

bore me.

It was fun for a while, playing with the poor, pathetic virgin. But I

need

a real man, Fox. Not a boy. Go on. Get lost, little puppy. We're done

here."



"I had trusted her. I had told her about my life and she had told

me that

she loved me, and now this. I lost control. She wasn't expecting that

kind

of outburst from me, and, at first, she was stunned. Then she tried to

fight back, but I was stronger. I held her down on the bed and I raped

her.

Not once, but two, I don't know, maybe three times. She cried and she

screamed and she finally just went limp against the bed. And I left her

there."



"The next day, I realized what I had done. I tried to apologize. I

groveled at her feet and begged for forgiveness. She told me that if I

ever

came near her again she'd have me up on charges. I deserved that and

more.

I had failed her, just like I failed Sam. I never saw her again until

last

year. I left England soon after and I swore that I would never let myself

get close to anyone again. I was not only worthless, I was dangerous as

well.



I was okay with that, for a while. I forced myself to ignore women.

I

watched porn tapes to get off when the need was too great. I really liked

the S and M ones. The nastier the better. Before too long, I couldn't

even

get it up without something playing in the background. I began to wonder

if, maybe, what I had done to Phoebe was who I was. If that was the case,

then I knew that it was the best thing I could do to stay as far away

from

the real live women as possible."



I wanted to beg and plead with Scully to understand what I was

telling

her, to make her see that she needed to get as far away from me as

possible. But she wasn't leaving. I could feel her eyes drilling holes in

the back of my head and, even though I had my back to her at the time, I

knew her gaze was not filled with hatred. She wasn't repulsed. Didn't she

even understand that I was a madman? I had to continue. I had hoped that,

by telling her about Phoebe, I could get her out of my life once and for

all, do something good for a change, but she was still sitting there

beside

me as if this were some sort of rational discussion we were having, as if

I

hadn't just admitted to her that I was the lowest of the low, a rapist,

one

step short of a murderer, or one step closer, depending on your

perspective. I had to continue.



"Then came the X-files. And, with them, came Diana. I was able to

keep

things purely professional between us for quite a while. I didn't even

desire her. She held no interest at all for me. Then, out of the blue,

she

started coming on to me. And I don't mean just flirting. It was almost as

if she could see inside my soul and understand all of the dirty little

secrets I held there. I never told her about Phoebe, but she seemed to

sense that there was something holding me back. So, one night, she

started

telling me a little bit about herself. We went back to her apartment and

we

had a few drinks, and the next thing I remembered was her telling me that

she liked it rough. She said it was hard for her to really get involved

with a man because they were all too weak for her. She liked a man who

wasn't afraid to take control. Then, she asked me if I thought there was

something wrong with that. I didn't know what to say, so I told her that

I

thought she was perfectly normal. After all, if I thought any differently

about her then I would have had to admit to myself just how sick I really

was."



I told myself, at this point, that there could be absolutely no

more

secrets. Scully would know the whole truth, all of it. Then she would go.

Why wasn't she going, I began to wonder. What would it take to make her

leave? I had to know. She wasn't safe with me. I wasn't her friend and I

could never be her lover.



"She asked me if I liked to watch porno movies. I told her I did,

so she

went over to her bag and took out a tape and put it into the VCR. I had

never seen anything like it in my life and I had seen a lot of these

things. Women being tied down and fucked by two and three men at a time,

sometimes willingly, sometimes not. One woman was being beaten with whips

by one man while another was doing her up the ass and another was shoving

himself down her throat. It made me feel ill to watch this and yet, at

the

same time, I realized I was getting turned on. Diana turned to me and

told

me that she had fantasies like these. She wanted to be tied down and

fucked

as many times as possible, until she screamed, until she begged for

mercy.

Then, she wanted to be fucked again."

God, Scully, I was thinking at the time, why are you still here? Am

I

getting through to you? Or are you so shocked that you can't even get up

to

leave? I wouldn't have stopped you. I wanted you to go. I wanted you to

get

as far away from me as possible so that I could go ahead and do to myself

what someone else should have done many years before. I was going to kill

myself. That had been the plan from the moment I made the decision to

tell

Scully the truth. I was going to show her who I really was, so that she

wouldn't mourn for me when I was gone. I wanted her to be able to get on

with her life, to leave behind the sick and empty shell who had already

done her an irreparable amount of damage over the last six years without

ever laying a hand on her.



"I just stared at her in shock, at first, and then she was begging

me to

rape her. Those were the words she used. She wanted me to tie her up and

rape her. A part of my mind was screaming at me to get out of her

apartment

and go get her some help, but another part of me just wanted her so badly

I

didn't think I could stand it any longer. That side won. I grabbed her

shoulders, threw her to the floor and ripped her clothes off. I raped

her,

just like she wanted."



All I could think of was the fact that I had now admitted to Scully

that I

had raped not one, but two women, and she still didn't leave. I began to

think that maybe she was just waiting until I was finished so that she

could cuff me and haul me off to jail. I also began to realize that

spending the rest of my life behind bars was probably a far better

punishment than a shot to the head. I deserved to suffer, for Sam, for

Phoebe and for Diana.



"The next day, at work, she acted like nothing had happened. The

following

weekend, the cycle repeated itself and that was our pattern for several

months. Then, one day, she came in to the office and told me that she was

pregnant. She said that she would have an abortion if that was what I

wanted her to do, but I knew that she didn't want that. So, I married her

instead. I guess we loved each other. I'm not really sure anymore. Even

after we got married we continued with our sex life as it had been.

Sometimes it was more violent than others. One day, about three months

after she had first told me she was pregnant, she came in to the office

in

tears. She had been to the doctor, she told me. She had lost the baby.

That

wasn't all. Apparently, on one of our rougher nights, I had done

something

wrong. I had pushed her to hard. It was my fault, she told me. She had

trusted me to take care of her, to treat her the way she wanted to be

treated, yes, but not to actually hurt her."



There it was, plain as day. That was my story. I was empty after it

was

all told. There was nothing left to say but the outcome.



"She got a transfer and left. The divorce papers came in the mail.

The

official story was that losing the baby had been too hard on our

relationship. But I knew the truth. I had, once again, failed to be the

kind of man a woman needs. My father had been right all along, but what

he

didn't know was that I was worse than just a failure. I was evil. I

actually enjoyed hurting women. So then you came along, Scully. I did

everything in my power not to care about you because I knew that, if I

started to care, then I would want you. That's why I can never have you,

Scully. Because, if I did, then I would hurt you, too. I'm not a normal

man. I'm sick, twisted. I get off watching porno flicks and I jack off

until it hurts, and I still can't make the pain inside me go away. I've

even imagined it was you I was fucking. That's how sick I am, Scully. So,

if you know what's best for you, you'll just walk away now. Go out that

door and don't come back. Put in for a transfer. I won't stop you. Just

go,

before it's too late, before I allow myself to destroy someone else."



********************************

And that was then end of his story. Many years of pain and anguish

condensed into two hours of monologue spilled forth, and he had not even

looked at me. He stood up and walked as far away from me as the room

would

allow, staring out the window into the almost-morning.



"Why aren't you leaving, Scully? You asked for this and I gave it

to you.

I told you my dirty little secret. Why don't you leave?"



"No."



"No! Are you crazy?"



"No, and neither are you, Mulder. Just confused. I love you, and

nothing

you can say or have said to me so far is ever going to change that."



From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw"

TITLE: Alive part 4 of 10







When I told him that I wasn't leaving, he finally turned around to

face

me. The look in his eyes frightened me then, but I stood my ground. It

was

as if he was not so much looking at me as through me.

"I am a rapist, Scully. I hurt women. I am the kind of person we

put

behind bars. What is it that I am failing to get through to you?"



"Mulder, I am not condoning what you did to Phoebe. It was wrong.

But so

was what she did to you. Diana was another story entirely. I'm not saying

that I, personally, find that kind of relationship to be healthy; but I

can

understand why you did. I don't want to get into a discussion of how she

knew so much about you and your likes and dislikes, but I do believe that

she knew things that were outside the scope of just casual knowledge. She

preyed on you, Mulder, using what she knew to fit herself to your needs.

She toyed with you, just like Phoebe did. I won't do that, Mulder."



"Aren't you even the least bit afraid of me? Jesus, Scully. I can't

even

touch you without taking a chance that I might lose control."



The anguish in his eyes as he said that to me was almost

unbearable. I am

the first to admit that some of the things he had admitted to me were a

little bit overwhelming, frightening, even. But I also knew Mulder. I

knew

his propensity to berate himself for things, to make them out to be worse

than what they actually were. I was telling the truth when I said that I

loved him, that I would stay with him, and that I felt that, although

what

he had done to Phoebe was wrong, he was not completely to blame. Diana

was

definitely another issue. I firmly believed, and I still believe now,

even

more so than I did at the time, that someone had gotten to her. She had

known in advance all about Phoebe, about Mulder's taste in X-rated

movies,

and she had used this knowledge to twist him into some sort of living

parody of the kind of person he already feared that he was. To say that I

wasn't a little bit afraid would have been a lie. I wasn't sure what I

felt

at that particular moment. I trusted Mulder, but I also knew that until

he

trusted himself he could be a threat to me. I knew that he wouldn't harm

me

intentionally, but I was well aware that he was walking a fine line

between

sanity and complete mental breakdown. What he had revealed to me tonight

was, in his mind, his final attempt to push me away. If I had left him, I

do not doubt that I would never have seen him again. Not alive, at least.

I

knew that I needed to gain his trust, but I didn't know how to begin. I

started simple, and prayed that it would be enough.

"Mulder, you touch me all the time. You hold my hand, you guide me

along

with your hand at my back, you hold me when I need you. You do all of

these

things every day. You've never hurt me before. What makes this any

different?"



Before, we were friends, partners. Now, everything has changed. We

can't

go back to what we were before, but we can't go forward either. It's too

dangerous, Scully."



"No, it isn't." I had him talking, at least. Now all I needed to do

was

keep him focused on me, on my words. "Why don't you at least come back

over

here and sit down?"



"No."



"Why not?"



"It's too dangerous."



"Okay. If you won't come to me, I'll go to you." I took a deep

breath to

gather my nerves and stood up. I walked straight towards him and he

looked

at me like a caged animal, but he didn't run away. It was a good start,

at

least, so I took the next step. I reached out and took his hand in mine.

This time, he did try to pull away, but I wouldn't let go.



"Scully, come on. Give it up. This isn't going to work. What do I

have to

say to you to make you realize that I am NOT NORMAL! I am DANGEROUS!"



He was screaming at me and I was holding on. I looked him straight

in the

eye and I didn't flinch. We stared at each other and I did not back down.

Slowly, his eyes lost the angry glint and began to soften. Then, he was

crying again and I took advantage of his momentary weakness to pull him

back to the sofa. I did not take him in my arms, though I wanted to. I

just

sat beside him and held his hand and let him cry. I stroked his fingers

gently, establishing a simple, yet soothing pattern of tracing my thumb

gently across the back of his hand. After a while, his tears subsided and

he looked at me again.



"You're not going to give up, are you?" he asked.



"No."



"Why? Why can't I make you understand?"

"That's where you're wrong, Mulder. I do understand. I can't help

you

change the past. I can't make any of this go away. But I do know that

it's

not really who you are. You have stood by my side for six years. I know

you

better than any of them. People make mistakes, but they also make

changes."



"But I haven't changed. That's the problem. I still get my kicks by

watching porno movies and fantasizing about them. Shit, I even fantasize

about you while I'm watching them. Yet you are still willing to sit here

beside me and hold my hand after I tell you all of this. I just don't

understand you."



"First off, Mulder, while I am not exactly a fan of adult

entertainment, I

don't think there's really anything sick or wrong about it. As long as it

doesn't get out of hand. Now, people who go out and rent those faces of

death videos, they have a problem, but you, I think, just have some

unresolved issues."



"Rape fantasies are unresolved issues, Scully?"



"Yes, as long as they are just that, fantasies."



"But I did more than just fantasize."



"With Phoebe, yes. And that is something you will have to live with

for

the rest of your life. But I don't think it's something you will ever do

again. And I'm not even really sure it was rape, Mulder."



"Don't justify it, Scully."



"Okay, I won't. But you still have to come to terms with it.

Forgive

yourself."



"Maybe I could have done that if I hadn't repeated the whole

process with

Diana. After what happened with Phoebe, I was physically sick. I never

thought I could let it happen again. But I did. And I enjoyed it."



"No, you enjoyed something entirely different, Mulder. You enjoyed

a

consensual relationship that was based on an elaborate fantasy."



"Maybe, Scully, but our child was NOT a fantasy! I murdered our

child!"



Now we were into serious territory because I can honestly say that,

even

then, I wasn't exactly certain that there had ever been a child. "Mulder,

did you ever talk to her doctor?"



"About what?"



"About how she lost the baby."



"No. She told me how."



"And you believed her?"



"Why shouldn't I?"



Ouch, that one hurt, but I held my tongue and gave him the

condensed and

edited version of what I was really thinking at the time. "Well, for

starters, when a woman loses a child she is angry, she wants to blame

someone. You were there to blame."



"But she said that it was my fault."



"It takes two to play the kinds of games you were playing, Mulder."

I

didn't really want to ask the next question, but I had to. "Exactly what

kinds of things did you do, sexually?"



"You don't really want to know the answer to that, do you?"



I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Yes, I do. As a doctor, I

can

tell you whether or not it was likely that something you did caused her

to

miscarry."



He squeezed my hand tighter, seeking reassurance, before he began,

and I

took this as a good sign. He wasn't pulling away, at least.



"Okay. Mostly, she wanted me to sneak up on her, tie her up or

handcuff

her. She would struggle and I would rip her clothes off of her, or cut

them

off sometimes. She would beg me to stop and I wouldn't. I would touch

her,

tease her, force her to suck me off, things like that. Sometimes, she

would

hold her legs together and I would force them apart and take her. other

times, I'd tease her until she begged me to do her. I'd make her dress a

certain way or call her a bitch or my slave. things like that."



"Anything else?"



"Like what?"

I had to fight the urge to keep from laughing. Not that I had ever

done

anything like this, but, so far, all I saw was a little bit of harmless

bondage, role playing. "Did you ever hit her?"



"No. Never."



"Mulder, she was upset, maybe, but I don't think you caused her to

lose

the baby. You would have had to do a lot more than any of what you have

just described to me to make her have a miscarriage."



He turned away from me, obviously embarrassed. "Maybe you're right,

Scully, but it doesn't make it right."



"Mulder, it sounds like what you and Diana did was right for you.

It may

not be right for everyone, but it isn't sick."



"I feel sick. When I think about it, I feel repulsed. Yet, at the

same

time, it turns me on." He pulled away and distanced himself from me

before

he continued. "I have dreams, Scully, and in my dreams I do those things

to

you. Only worse, because you really don't want me to do them. Then I get

out of control and I hurt you, like I always hurt you. Look at all of the

ways I've hurt you. When I wake up in the morning, I feel so sick that I

don't know how to face the day."



"Mulder, you're confused. You have never hurt me. Things have

happened

that have been beyond your control and I have gotten hurt. We have gotten

hurt. It is a part of who we are. But you're mixing that part up with

your

feelings for me."



"I don't know what I feel anymore, Scully."



"Yes, you do."



I managed to maneuver myself so that I was seated beside him again,

but he

was up an moving in a matter of moments. When I looked up at him, I found

myself facing down the barrel of a gun.



"Get out, Scully. Now!"



I guess Mulder underestimated a lot of things about me, not the

least of

which was the extent of my physical strength when provoked. I was never

afraid for myself, not even slightly. If he had truly been able to shoot

me, he would have done so before, with Modell. We would have stayed like

that, at an impasse, he holding the gun, me staring back at him

passively,

forever, had he not turned the gun on himself.



I reacted and he was not prepared. I even had the presence of mind

to be

thankful that, at the time, no fish were living in the aquarium, which

received the force of the stray bullet. Better a ten dollar tank,

replaceable at the local K-Mart, then Mulder's head.



In the end, that was all that was damaged. I had him subdued and in

handcuffs, face down on the sofa with his arms behind his back, before he

could even react. In retrospect, the most amusing aspect of the entire

situation was the simple fact that none of the neighbors ever alerted the

police, although the gunshot was definitely audible throughout the

building. I guess they were used to this by now. Having Fox Mulder for a

neighbor could never be seen as dull.



As soon as he realized that he had lost control of the situation,

Mulder

ceased to function on any discernible level. I had expected anger, a

struggle, even tears at this point. He gave me nothing, not even a sound.

I

knelt by the sofa and gently rolled him onto his back. His eyes were

open,

but it was as if he were looking at something very far away. Catatonic. I

checked his pulse. It was slow, but steady. He was waiting. I knew that

it

would be quite a while before I could safely remove the handcuffs, so I

did

the next best thing, I tried to make him as comfortable as I possibility

could.



He did not protest as I placed the pillow beneath his head. When I

bent to

remove his shoes, I was reminded of the way it feels to maneuver a

cadaver,

not a living, breathing human being. It was only then that the extent of

my

terror became apparent. It was as if he were already dead. I covered him

with a blanket and perched beside him, cradling his head against my lap.

He

did not move, except for when I physically shifted him. I stroked his

hair

away from his face, soothingly as possible, and I wanted to cry. I would

have given anything, at that moment, even my own life, to bring him back

to

me. I was as lost as he was, and I had never felt so completely alone.





From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw"

TITLE: Alive part 5 of 10



I don't know how long I sat beside him that way, stroking his head and

whispering "I love you," and "Please," to no avail, probably no more than

a

few minutes, but it could have been hours. The telephone rang and my

first

reaction was to look at the clock. It was nine in the morning. Sunday

morning. 7 hours. 7 long hours of hell. The phone was still ringing.

Mulder

does not have many friends, none that would call this early on a weekend.

Skinner was a possibility, but why? Telephone solicitors, at least those

who want to escape with their lives, do not call people at nine o'clock

on

a Sunday morning. The phone was still ringing. I answered it.



"Agent Scully." Frohike. It was a statement, not a question. His

voice

held no trace of surprise at the fact that I was answering Mulder's phone

at this hour of the morning on a weekend.



"Yes."



"We have been monitoring the situation. Go to the computer and

retrieve

Mulder's E-mail. The password is Red."



Why was I not surprised?



"You will be receiving some files. They, too, are password

protected. I

believe you will be able to figure out the password without too much

effort. What you will find, when you open these files, should prove to be

quite....enlightening."



I didn't know what to say. I wanted a savior and I had gotten one,

unlikely as it may have seemed. I wasn't sure whether I should be

thanking

them for their concern or planning their executions for listening in on a

very private conversation. In the end, my desperation for help of any

kind

won.



"Thank you. All of you."



"Oh, and Agent Scully, there are three guns in the apartment. The

first,

you already have in your possession. There is one more wedged between the

matters and the liner in the bedroom, right side, by the headboard. The

third is in a container of cookies and cream ice cream in the freezer."



"Thank you, Frohike. I ... appreciate your concern."



"Any time. Take care of him."



I stopped him before he could hang up the phone. "Oh, and Frohike."

"Yes?"



"Turn off the bugs."



"Yes Ma'am."



"All of them."



I hung up the phone without waiting for his reply. He knew that I

would

call him if I needed anything, and I knew that at least one of the

devices

would continue to be monitored until they felt certain I had the

situation

in hand. I went to the computer and began downloading the files. The

password, I got in one try. "Bitch." My feelings, exactly.



While the files were in transit, I checked on Mulder. He had not

even

moved. He didn't seem to have been aware that the conversation had taken

place. I bent down and placed a brief kiss on his forehead, whispered "I

love you," once more and set to working collecting things in a large

trash

can. I retrieved all of the guns as well as kitchen knives, razor blades,

a

letter opener, shards of broken fish tank and the baseball bat. I added

my

own weapon to the stash and raced down the stairs, in too much of a hurry

to wait for the elevator, and deposited all of my stash into the trunk of

my car. I slammed the trunk shut with the keys inside. I would deal with

that little problem later. You can never be too careful.



Upon returning to the apartment, I was almost surprised to discover

that

even in my absence Mulder had not moved a muscle that I could see. I

didn't

like that at all, but I needed to see to the files. If the gunmen had

been

confident enough in them to send them to me, then they had to be

critical.

I was not disappointed.



The first file was a complete medical history on one Diana Fowley.

It

seemed that, as a teenager, Miss Fowley had been admitted into the

hospital

with suspicious lumps on her ovaries. When she was discharged it was

without a significant portion of her female anatomy. She had undergone a

total hysterectomy. There was never a baby. It was all a lie.



This file was, to say the least, interesting. However, it was the

second

file that caused me to want to leave the apartment immediately, track her

down and kill her where she stood. Apparently Miss Fowley had done quite

an

extensive amount of graduate research in Psychology. In particular, her

focus was on the ways in which the power of suggestion can be used to

modify a subject's behavior patterns and belief systems. As I scanned the

multiple pages of documentation, case studies and test results, several

lines stood out in my mind:



Subjects drawn from a group in which they had received little or no love

in

their family environment as children were most readily susceptible to

programming.



The easiest trait to condition within a subject is the trait which he or

she most abhors.



Non-violent subjects can easily be conditioned to believe themselves to

be

violent as a result of low dosages of the test drug, combined with the

power of suggestion and the lure of an emotional reward for the

conditioned

behavior.



One test subject had been successfully conditioned to view himself as a

sexual deviant and had come to find enjoyment only in performing sexual

acts he initially found distasteful.



I wanted to kill her. Had she stood before me, at that very moment,

I

probably would have done so, bare handed. Fortunately for her, I had more

important matters with which to contend.



I knelt beside Mulder's still body, caressing his hair. "Mulder? I

know

you can hear me. I need you to listen to me, please. Just this once, for

me, okay?"



He didn't answer, didn't do anything at all to indicate to me that

he had

heard a word I had said, but I continued anyway. I told him all of it. I

told him that there had never been a baby. I read the reports, word for

word, about Diana's research. When I reached the end, when all of it was

laid bare before him, he still had not responded. But, when I looked up

at

him, his eyes were wet and a tear was forming. I kissed his cheek where

the

moisture fell, kissed his eyelids and held him in my arms. Gently, I

undid

the handcuffs. If I wanted him to trust me, I knew that I would have to

trust him.



When he finally spoke, his first words tore me apart. "She never

loved

me."

"No, Mulder, she didn't. But I do. I love you."



"You're the only one who ever held me, Scully."



"I've got you now, Mulder. It will all work out. I promise you."



"Just hold me." It was such a simple request. I gathered him up as

closely

as I could, sitting with him on the sofa, and I held him. Finally, I was

allowed to cry. I cradled him in my arms, stroking his cheek, tangling my

fingers through his hair and letting my tears fall freely onto his body.



Hours later, we slept.



From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw"

TITLE: Alive part 6 of 10





"Hey." he said to me, turning in the chair to get a better look in

my

direction. He turned on the lamp at the desk and I could see that he was

still exhausted. His face was pale and he still wore the same clothes he

had on the night before.



"Hey, yourself. How long have you been up?"



"Not long. I didn't want to wake you. I was going to get us some

food, but

I was afraid you'd worry if you woke up and I was gone.



"Thanks. I would have."



We just looked at each other. So much had happened, and I didn't

know

exactly what to say to him. He looked so vulnerable, so lost.



"Come sit with me. I miss you."



I was afraid that he would turn me down, but he didn't. He laid the

papers

on his desk and came to sit beside me. This time, his arms encircled my

body and he held me.



"How are you, Mulder?"



"Scared."



"Of what?" I buried myself as close to him as possible, wanting to

feel

him, to know that he was really still here.



"Of this. Of everything, Scully. It's all changed now. I know the

truth

about Diana, but it doesn't make it all better."



"She coerced you into believing things that weren't true, Mulder,

about

yourself and about her."



"I know, and if she were the only one that might make it okay. But

what

about Phoebe. What excuses that?"



"Nothing, Mulder."



"See what I mean. That will never go away."



"No, but we all make mistakes. We just have to learn to forgive

ourselves."



"It sounds so easy, but it isn't. What if I do it again? What if

something

happens and I turn on you?"



He pulled away from me, holding on to my shoulders and forcing me

to look

him in the eye as he said this.



"Mulder, it isn't going to happen. You were a troubled college kid.

She

manipulated you and you reacted. It isn't going to happen again."



"I'm scared, Scully. I don't know how to love you."



"Do you?"



"Do I what?"



"Love me?"



"Yes." It was a whisper, but I knew that he meant it.



"Then we'll learn together."



"I'm afraid to even touch you, Scully."



"You're touching me now." I reached up to place my hands over his

as they

rested on my shoulders. "You touch me all the time."



"That's different."



"True, but it's a start. We have to start somewhere. And we don't

have to

build this relationship overnight. When I said I love you, I didn't mean

that I love you just for now. Believe it or not, I have never said those

words to anybody outside my blood relatives. I don't just say things like

that. It's a forever thing, Mulder."



"Forever?"



"Does that scare you?"



"No."



He pulled me into his arms again and he was crying. We held each

other.

Tentatively, I could feel him begin to slide his hands up and down my

back,

gently. I did the same to him. It felt good. better than good, it felt

right.



"Mulder?" I knew that, if we were ever going to put things back

together

again, we had to face reality. "You need a shower, and we need food, and

it's getting late."



"Yeah. You're right."



He pulled away, reluctantly. His eyes were dark and his face was

less pale

than it had been before. He smiled at me and I smiled back, our faces

only

inches apart. I wanted to kiss him, but I was afraid to push for too much

too soon. In the end, he made my decision for me.



"Scully?"



"Hmm?"



"May I kiss you?"



"Yes."



It wasn't exactly heavenly, but it was close enough. Our lips met

softly.

He tasted of sweat and tears. He was soft and gentle. It wasn't a

passionate kiss and it didn't evolve into one either. There was plenty of

time to ease into that next step. it was enough just to feel his lips on

mine and to know that he loved me.



"I love you, Scully."



"I love you, too. Now go shower. I'll order Chinese. Delivered. I

get the

shower after you."



"Yes ma'am." was his reply and I knew that a hint of the old Mulder

was

sneaking back in.

As soon as he was out of the room and I heard the shower running, I

called

Chang's and ordered take-out, lots of it. Then I called my mother to let

her know that I was still alive. I usually call her on Sundays, but I had

been a bit busy. I called Skinner, as well. At home. I told him that

Mulder

and I were going to be taking some personal leave. He didn't seem all

that

surprised.



"When was the last time either of you had a vacation, Agent?"



"I don't know, sir."



"Stress is one of the leading causes of poor performance in the

workplace,

agent. I strongly suggest, in fact, I make it an order, that the two of

you

take a full 3 weeks vacation, paid of course, starting, let's say

tomorrow

morning. Just E-mail me any reports that you're working on. Don't even

bother coming in."



"Thank you, Sir."



"The paranormal can wait, Scully. Take care of each other."



I knew, then, that he knew that things were changing between Mulder

and I.

Essentially, he had given us his blessing. Three weeks. Not a lot of time

to try and erase the past, but more than I had hoped for.



By the time I had finished making my calls, Mulder had turned off

the

shower. I went into the kitchen and rummaged about for a couple of

moderately clean plates and some utensils. I made some fresh iced tea, as

well. I returned to the living room just in time to see Mulder exit the

bedroom. He was wearing only a pair of light yellowish beige pajama

bottoms

and his hair was wet and rumpled. I stopped what I was doing and just

stared at him. It was not as if I had never seen him with this few

clothes

on. I've seen him with no clothes on, actually. It was just that I had

never seen him as the man I love standing half naked and disheveled

before

me. He was beautiful. There are no words that can adequately describe

what

I saw in him at that moment, but it was a combination of things like

love,

trust, sadness, fear, hope and desperation, all at the same time. I

couldn't speak. I couldn't move. This time, he rescued me.



"Shower's free, Scully. I left you a clean pair of sweats and a T-

shirt.

And a clean towel."



"Thanks. Food is on its way."



He crossed the floor and held out his arms to me. I went to him,

gladly,

and he gathered me up as close to his chest as possible. We stood in that

embrace for several minutes. Breathing in the damp smell of him was

almost

intoxicating to me. I realized that I could stay like this all night and

that would be what heaven was like. But he was trembling, and I could

feel

his heart pounding against my cheek.



"Mulder, I love you." I whispered to the soft hairs on his chest,

and he

held me even tighter.



"If you keep on saying that, maybe my sick, twisted mind will

someday let

me believe you."



I pulled back from him, slightly, just enough to see his face. We

communicate better, sometimes, without words. This time, however, his

eyes

told me nothing. They were distant. I led him, gently, to the sofa and we

sat side by side.



"Scully, what do you see when you look at me. I mean, what do you

really

see?"



I took a moment to answer him, because I sensed that this was truly

important. "Well, I see a strong, intelligent man. I see a person who is

deeply committed to his beliefs, who is honest and caring. But I also see

a

lot of pain and a need for love. I see a little boy who never got a

chance

to grow up. But, most of all, I see something so beautiful and special. I

feel love, and I know that the love I see in your eyes is for me. Do you

have any idea how that makes me feel?"



"Tell me."



"Alive. It makes me feel alive, Mulder. I have cheated death so

many

times, and it has always been because of you, because of your love. You

make me complete."



I reached forward and traced the line of his face with my

fingertips and

he drew back slightly.



"Don't pull away. Trust me."

"I do trust you."



I touched him again, and this time he allowed me to continue,

drawing

gentle arcs across his slightly stubbled skin. He closed his eyes and

exhaled deeply, leaning in to the pressure. He brought one hand up to the

side of my face and mimicked my actions. His touch was electric and I

shivered with pleasure at the contact. Again, he drew away.



"You see, Scully. When I touch you now, after all that I have told

you, It

makes you afraid."



"No, Mulder." I laughed, softly. "Not afraid. It feels good.

Incredibly

good."



I took his hand in mine and replaced it against my face, holding it

there,

encouraging him to explore, to feel. I locked my eyes to his and leaned

towards him, drawing us closer. I could feel his breath, warm against my

lips. Simultaneously we closed the distance, lips to lips, kissing

gently.

This time, I allowed my tongue to trace the moist flesh of his mouth,

seeking entrance. He opened himself to me, hesitantly at first, afraid to

let go. Cautiously, I expanded my exploration of his mouth, touching his

tongue to mine, and he returned the gesture. I could feel the energy

building up inside me. For the first time in my life, I had to

consciously

struggle to keep from losing control as we melted together. His kisses

grew

more and more passionate, deepening until he was crushing my mouth

against

his. His hands came up to tangle in my hair and I drew my arms around his

neck, holding him steady, encouraging him to drink his fill of me. It was

an explosive experience. I could feel the moisture building between my

legs. I was dizzy, drunk with the taste of him. He was slightly salty,

leftover sunflower seeds, and mint from his toothpaste and something

else,

something unique and beyond description. I wanted to stay there, locked

in

his embrace, forever.



A knock at the door was the catalyst that finally drew us apart.

Breathlessly I fell back against the sofa cushions, face flushed with

pleasure.



"I'll get that. You go shower."



He was embarrassed. I could tell from the tone of his voice that he

had

not anticipated going this far this fast. As for myself, I had wanted to

go

even farther, but I knew that this process would take a lot of time. I

was

willing to wait for him. I had waited this long.



I kissed him softly once more as encouragement and he rewarded me

with a

smile; then we went our separate ways, he to the door and me to the

bathroom. I had visions of a cold shower. Men are definitely not the only

sex to get hot and bothered!



In the bathroom I discovered clean, soft towels, an unopened tooth

brush,

shampoo, conditioner and clean clothes laid out neatly for me. I smiled

at

his thoughtfulness and was once again reminded of just how horrible his

life had been. it amazed me that someone who had never known love could

feel so deeply.



A part of me wondered how long it would be before he was ready to

take the

next step, to make love to me completely and physically. I wanted that,

but, at the same time, I was afraid. Mulder was not the only one with

secrets. I had loved him from a distance for a long time, never really

believing that he could ever be mine. I had waited for him, but not just

for the six years we had been together.



I had boyfriends growing up. I experienced a fairly normal

childhood.

While training for the FBI, I had even been seriously involved with

someone. I had also come very close, in a time of desperation, to falling

into bed with a drugged psychopath. But I hadn't. Ever. As strange as it

may seem, and in part due to my strict Catholic upbringing, Dana

Katherine

Scully was a thirty-six year old virgin. I had waited my entire life to

give myself to one man, forever. That man was Fox William Mulder. I knew

this without question. What I didn't know was how to tell him.



From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw"

TITLE: Alive part 7 of 10



Dinner was a quiet affair. We sat at opposite ends of the sofa, silently

eating our food, and avoiding eye contact. I think, for Mulder, the

seriousness of the past hours was finally embedding itself in his

consciousness. I wanted to go to him, but I knew that the next move had

to

be his. I could scare him off so easily. So I sat there, comforting

myself

with the fact that the clothes I was wearing, his sweats, carried his

scent

with them. It was like having his arms around me, only less satisfying.

Mulder broke the silence.



"I guess you need to be getting home soon."

"No, Mulder. I'll stay with you."



"You don't need to do that. I can take care of myself. Besides,

it's not

as if you've left me anything useful to do myself in with." He forced a

small, weak laugh.



"True. But that's part of the problem."



"I don't follow you." He started up, gathering the remains of our

meal and

heading for the kitchen.



"I locked my keys in the trunk of the car. Along with the guns and

any

sharp objects I could find."



"Shit, Scully. I'm sorry. This is all my fault."



"Shut up, Mulder." I was getting a trifle irritated at him and his

chronic

feelings of self - deprecation. "I don't want to lose you. Not now. Not

ever. If you want to blame someone, blame your Father. Blame Diana. for

that matter, blame Phoebe! It's not as if she was some kind of innocent

victim!"



I was angry. I realized, at that point, that no matter how the

situation

had turned out, Mulder was not entirely to blame for his actions. I stood

up and walked into the kitchen, following Mulder, and came up swiftly

behind him. I grabbed his shoulders, much more forcefully that I had

intended and spun him to face me. He closed his eyes tightly against my

wrath. He honestly believed that I was going to hurt him.



"God, Mulder. I'm sorry. Open your eyes, please. Look at me. I'm

not going

to hit you. I could never do anything like that. I love you. Please,

believe me."



His face softened and he looked at me, timidly. "I know, Scully. I

believe

you. But that doesn't change the fact that we need to get you home so you

can get some sleep. I'll give you a ride and then I'll pick you up in the

morning. We can call a locksmith from the office."



"We aren't going to the office tomorrow, Mulder."



"What?"



I was nervous as to what his reaction would be when I told him

about my

conversation with Skinner, but I forged on, seemingly undaunted. "We're

on

vacation. Three weeks. It's been approved. The paranormal will have to

get

on without us for a while, Mulder."



"How?"



"I would imagine the same way it has for centuries. Surely you

don't

believe that you corner the market on the unexplained?" I knew that was

not

the question he was asking, but my answer seemed to put him at ease.



"Skinner's okay with all of this?"



"He cares about you, Mulder. He cares about us."



"How much did you tell him?"



"Nothing."



"Seriously, Scully."



"Seriously, Mulder. I told him nothing more than the fact that we

needed

some time off. I was hoping for a day, I got us three weeks. It's not an

eternity, but maybe we can make the most of it." I drew my arms up around

his neck and held him to me. He returned the gesture, clasping me firmly

in

his embrace.



"Scully, I'm not sure how long it'll take me to feel okay about

this,

about us. I want to try, but I don't want to make you feel like you have

to

keep on waiting for me."



It was now or never. I looked him straight in the eyes when I

spoke. "I've

been waiting for 36 years. What's a few more weeks?"



He was speechless, for all of ten seconds. That had to have been

some sort

of Mulder-record. "Scully, you're...you've never...I mean..."



"Stop stammering, Mulder. I'm a good Catholic girl. This surprises

you?"



"No. I mean, yes. I mean... what about...?"



"No. Never. Not with anyone. Not until now. Not until you."



I kissed him, soundly on the lips. I didn't want to talk about this

now. I

wanted him to know that I loved him more than anyone else, ever. He

returned my kiss, but he kept the passion in check, blocking the seeking

motion of my tongue with his tightly closed lips.



"Scully, slow down. God, I don't want to hurt you. I can't do

this." He

pulled away and returned to the living room, flopping heavily on the sofa

and burying his head in his hands. "You deserve so much more. Don't you

understand that?"



I followed him and sat beside him, placing one hand on his knee and

ruffling the other through his hair. "It's not about what you think I

deserve. It's about what I want. I want you."



He looked up at me, then, and his eyes took on a deep shade that

was

almost black in the encroaching darkness. "Then marry me, Scully."



I almost fainted, right then and there. I know that I swayed a bit,

because his strong arms were there to steady me. I fell against him,

sobbing, overwhelmed, but with enough presence of mind to say the word he

needed to hear. "Yes."



"Stay here." He whispered into my ear, and leaned me gently back

against

the sofa cushions.



I opened my eyes to see where he was going. he walked out of the

living

room and into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. I listened

carefully, for a moment, and heard nothing but silence. Then, I heard his

voice. Thank God for thin walls.



"Mrs. Scully? This is Fox.........Dana's fine........I'm wonderful,

Mrs.

Scully. Listen, I'm sorry for calling so late....you

were?....really.....No, she's here with me. Anyway, I called because I

need

to ask you a very important question. I would ask you in person, but I

need

to know the answer......yes, I'm still here......Mrs. Scully, may I have

permission to ask your daughter to marry me?.....Actually, yes, I

have.....she said yes......but, I won't if.....thank you, thank you Mrs.

Scully.....I will.....I love you, too, Mom."



It was my turn to be speechless. He had actually asked my mother

for her

blessing. I had known she would give it to him, but he hadn't. The sheer

courage that it must have taken him to make that call astounded me, made

me

love him even more. When he returned, his eyes were red and his cheeks

glistened. He was carrying a small, velvet box.



"You heard that, didn't you?"

"Yes." I croaked my response.



He walked softly towards me and bent down on one knee, handing the

box to

me as he searched my face for some sign of my emotions. "I want to do

this

right, and to give you a chance to back out, if you want to. Dana

Katherine

Scully, will you marry me?"



I opened the box and found inside of it a beautiful antique diamond

ring.

At first I assumed it had been a family heirloom, until I looked at the

inscription. "To my Scully. You make me whole. Mulder."



"Yes." There was no hesitation in my voice this time. I held out my

hand

and let the tears flow freely as he slipped the ring onto my finger.



"I have wanted to do this for so long, Scully. So many things held

me

back. I never once believed that, after everything I told you, I would

still have this chance, this gift. I love you."



He gathered me into his arms and pulled me with him to the floor.

We

laughed and cried and kissed until we were exhausted. It was after 11:00

according to the digital clock on the desk. Not even 24 hours had passed

since this ordeal began. So much had happened. I should have been

emotionally drained, but I wasn't. I felt so full of life, so engorged on

the promise of a tomorrow, that I didn't even want to think about sleep.

But I knew that we needed to rest, to recover. There were so many more

things we still needed to talk about. It wasn't going to be easy just to

forget about the past. I knew that Mulder needed more than just this

moment

to heal completely.



"Mulder, Sweetheart?"



"Yeah?" He mumbled into my neck, and I could feel the smile that

came to

his lips when I used that particular term of endearment.



"We need to get some sleep."



"Okay." He reluctantly disengaged himself from my arms. "I'll take

the

sofa. You can have my bed."



"No. I want to stay with you. We can share the bed."



"Scully, not yet. Let's wait, okay?"

"I didn't say anything about sex, Mulder." He cringed at the

mention of

that word, as if it were somehow repulsive to him, and I knew that this

would take a long time. "I just want to hold you. Can I do that for you,

please?"



"I'd like that, Scully."



"Okay. Let's go."



We made our way to his bedroom in the semi-darkness. At first, as

we lay

down together, I felt a wave of nausea. I had never slept on a water bed

before. As the minutes passed in silence, with our arms wrapped tightly

around each other, however, the gentle rocking motion became a soothing

lullaby to my body and soul. I had almost drifted off to sleep when

Mulder

spoke.



"Scully?"



"Yes, Mulder?"



"I love you."



"I love you, too, Sweetheart."



He was silent for a moment and I could hear his heart beating

steadily in

his chest. I could smell him, wrapped warm and musky around me. I could

feel his heat. It was almost dizzying.



"Scully?"



"Yes, Mulder?"



"Say that again."



"I love you, too, Mulder."



"Not that."



"What?" I was getting foggy from the feel of him.



"Not that way. The way you said it before."



"Mulder, Sweetheart, you've lost me here. I'm sorry."



"That was it."



"What was it?"



"What you just said.'

"Sweetheart, I just told you that you lost me. As in, I am

completely

confused."



He chuckled, softly, into the back of my neck. "Yeah, that. I like

that."



"You like me confused?"



"That too, but I like the other, more. I like it when you call me

that."



"Call you wha...oh, that." realization dawned on me like a herd of

elephants dancing in my livingroom. "I love you, Sweetheart."



"G'nite Scully." He mumbled, contentedly.



"Goodnight, Sweetheart."



I placed my head against his chest and we slept.





From: "Easterhawk & Eagleclaw"

TITLE: Alive part 9 of 10



This was real. Of all the things missing in my life, through all of the

desperate searches for meaning, the one truth that mattered had been mine

all along. That she was here in my arms, that she knew all of my secrets

and chose to remain, was not what amazed me. What drove me to the utmost

edge of wonder was the simple fact that, not only did she love me, but I

believed her with no reservations. It was like being given the other half

of my soul, for I now believed in things like God and souls and

immortality, and I knew, unequivocally, that we would be together

forever;

that love, our love, was infinite.



I was about to become only person to ever know her in the way that

a man

knows a woman, yet it was so much more than a physical joining. The fact

that I was to be the first frightened me, but it was as if there was some

strange and wondrous outside force guiding me and giving me the

confidence,

for once in all of my life, to know that I would do this right.



I kissed her softly, at first, tasting the sweetness of her lips on

mine.

I closed my eyes and I could smell her, musky mingled with a light,

fruity

aroma. From that moment on I knew that I would recognize her scent in the

darkness wherever we would go, like an anchor that held me to her.



Slowly I began to explore her face with my lips, tasting every inch

of

her. I discovered her ears. They are very sensitive and she shivered as I

reached out with my tongue to tease the edge of her lobes. She was

pressing

against me and I had to concentrate to keep from moving too fast. I could

feel my erection straining to be inside of her, but it would have to

wait.

This time was for her.



I traced the side of her face with my tongue and worked my way down

to her

neck. When I reached the bottom, the little V-shaped place where her

breastbone begins, she trembled and her breathing began to quicken. I

placed my ear against her chest through the fabric of the sweatshirt she

wore, mine in theory but already filled with the scent of her, and

listened

to her heart. I could actually hear the increase in pace.



I touched her breasts gently through the fabric. She arched her

back to

press them more fully into my hands. I kissed her again, more urgently

this

time, and she kissed me back with so much passion that I began to feel as

though I would not survive the pain of my passion long enough to take it

slow. Her own hands reached out to touch my chest, and I gave her the

moment, allowing her to set the pace.



"Do you want me to take off my shirt yet, Scully?"



She could not answer me in words, just nodded and gazed, yes gazed,

at me

with big, open, trusting blue eyes. I pulled the shirt off over my head

and

watched as she chewed on her lower lip, studying my naked chest. She had

seen it before, but it was like she was seeing me for the first time.



My Scully is a very quick learner. She took her moment to

appreciate what

she saw and then, as with everything else she does, she began a thorough

exploration. It was my turn to feel the heartpounding sensation of

anticipated pleasure. Her delicate hands explored my chest, inch by inch,

resting, at last, on my nipples. She circled them, then teased them, and

I

thought that I would explode from delight. But she was not through with

me

yet. She brought her swollen lips down and closed them over one nipple

and

I could be silent no longer. My gasp astonished her and she pulled away

to

look in my eyes.



"Is that okay?"



"Yes." I choked on my reply. "That is more than okay, but I need

you to

stop for a minute."

"Why?"



She looked so childlike when she asked me that question. "It's been

a long

time since I've been with someone like this, Scully. I want to be able to

last for more than ten seconds. At the very least, I want to be inside of

you before this is over."



I think I may have frightened her with that comment, and I almost

regretted saying it, but she took in a hesitant breath and brought her

hands down to the hem of her own shirt. I stopped her. "I want to undress

you," I whispered.



She nodded her acceptance, and I drew the material over her head,

tossing

it casually to the floor.



"My God, you are beautiful."



There I was, staring at her breasts like I had never seen a woman

before

in my life, and I was about to cry again. I could feel the tears building

up behind my eyelids. I had seen her naked before, but now I understood

the

wonder she must have felt seeing me only moments before. I brought my

hands

to rest gently on her breasts, caressing them first, then kneading them

softly. She was leaning into my hands, pushing me deeper into her skin. I

thumbed her nipples and watched as they grew tall and hard. When I closed

my mouth around one of the peaks, she gasped and began to moan. Instinct

took over, showing my mouth what she liked the most. Gentle tongue flicks

caused her to breathe in sharply and quiver against me. Deep, suckling

motions elicited moaning sounds from deep in the back of her throat. The

best, however, was the way she reacted when I chanced a quick, bitelike

grasp with my teeth on the very tip of her nipple. She screamed then, and

bucked her hips against my side.



"Mulder, that, that's...oh, God, that's..."



"Good?"



"Yes," she replied through tightly clenched teeth as I began to

work on

the other breast in the same fashion.



I pushed her gently to the bed and covered her with the length of

my body,

allowing her to relax, as best she could, in the gentle waves of the

mattress, and giving myself even greater access to her body. When I

finished with her breasts, I began to taste my way across her abdomen,

nibbling and licking and kissing as she writhed beneath me making

pleasured

squeaks and sighs. I was still erect, but my own desire was fast becoming

secondary to the pleasure I was getting from hearing and feeling what I

was

doing to her.



Her hands found my head just as I reached the waist band of her

sweats. I

looked up and knew that she wanted me to stop. I did so, without

hesitation, and she sat up again, leaning against the head of the bed.



"I want to see you first, please."



I could never deny her anything she desired. I rose from the bed

and stood

where she could see me as I slowly removed my sweats first, then my

boxers.

I could see the fear in her eyes when she finally saw me, fully erect,

standing before her. I have had more erections than I care to think about

in the presence of Scully, but this one, I knew, was bigger than any I

had

ever had, and I knew that it frightened her. I sat down on the edge of

the

bed and bent forward to kiss her again, slowing us down. I took one of

her

hands gently in mine and held on to it for a moment, before bringing it

slowly to rest on my cock. She touched me and I involuntarily sprang up

to

meet her. She drew her hand back and clutched it to her chest.



"It's okay, Scully. It does that, sometimes. I think it likes you."



She laughed at that, and I saw the tension dissipate. She reached

out to

touch me again, more confidently this time. I moved back fully onto the

bed

and opened myself to her. She touched me, gently, stroking my shaft and I

forced myself not to respond too aggressively, although I wanted to.



"It's so...big."



I knew, then, what it was that was worrying her the most. As a

doctor, she

was not a naive person, but clinical understanding and actual experience

are vastly different.



"I won't lie to you, Scully. It probably will hurt, just a little,

the

first time. But, the more relaxed you are, the easier it will be. And I

promise you, as much as I want to be inside of you, I won't do that until

I

know you are ready."



I kissed her again, and lowered her back down onto the mattress.

This

time, she took the lead, taking my hand and guiding it to the edge of her

waistband. I gently stripped her sweats from her body, leaving her in

nothing but a pair of pale peach cotton panties that I could already see

were saturated with her desire. I ran my hands gently up and down her

legs,

encouraging her to spread them apart for me. She did so, willingly, and I

was once again rocked, emotionally, by the depth of her faith in me.



I moved to touch her center, wanting to feel her first through the

protective layer of fabric, allowing her to become accustomed to my

touch.

As drenched as she was already, the moment my hand cupped the soft space

at

the crest of her legs her juices began to pour forth like an ocean wave

and

she convulsed against the palm of my hand. She lifted her hips from the

bed

as best she could and I answered her encouragement by bending down to

take

the sodden fabric in my mouth. I almost reached orgasm right then from

the

taste of her, and she gasped.



"What are you doing?"



"Do you like it?"



"Yes." At least I think she said yes. She was moaning almost

incoherently

at that point.



I slid one finger inside the waistband of her panties and allowed

myself a

brief moment of contact with her sodden clit. She screamed. My beautiful,

sensual, Scully let out a wail so loud I was grateful I have neighbors

who

ignore me.



She was moaning again as I continued to taste her, and this time I

could

make out the words, almost a chant, that she was saying over and over

again. "More. Mulder. Sweetheart. I love you. Please."



That nearly drove me over the edge. I removed the final barrier and

took

one slight fraction of a second to look at her before I complied with her

pleas. I closed my mouth over her clit and pushed my tongue deep inside

her

just in time to feel the first wave of her orgasm explode against my

mouth.

She filled me and I could taste her flowing down my throat in a way no

woman had ever done to me before, a way I had never dreamed possible. I

drank from her open body until the spasms ceased then brought my face up

slowly to look at her.

The color in her cheeks was as brilliant as a desert sunset, and

her eyes

were enormous blue orbs reflecting shock and desire. I lay my head gently

on her stomach and waited for her breathing to return to normal. She

worked

her fingers gently through my hair.



"Now?" she asked.



"Not yet," I answered her, taking this to mean she was ready to

continue.

I wanted to make sure that I did not hurt her, so I began to gently tease

her engorged clit with my fingers, testing her readiness. She arched

against my hand, so I continued. Gently, slowly, I inserted one finger

inside of her. She did not make a sound, only spread her legs wider to

give

me more room. From where I lay, with my head between her legs, I could

see

my finger disappear inside of her, and I smiled. As delicately as

possible,

I began to mimic the act itself, pumping into her with my finger. She

responded by matching my rhythm with her hips, so I added a second

finger,

then a third. Soon, I was pumping into her and she was bucking against my

hand, and I knew that she was about to come again. I took her clit in my

mouth and rode her waves of ecstasy. For the second time, I gently

cleaned

her with my tongue. I could never get enough of the taste of her.



She tugged on my shoulders and drew my body up across hers. Her

breathing

had, once again, returned to normal, and she brought me down to kiss her,

tasting herself on me. I could feel my cock, straining now, against the

triangle of hair at the apex of her sex.



"Now," she said, and it was not a question this time, but a

command.



I looked deep into her soul through her beautiful eyes.



"I love you, Scully."



Time stopped.



I entered her.



Slowly.



Completely.



Time started again and she was moving in rhythm with me as though

we had

done this a thousand times. She reached her climax quickly and I followed

her over the edge, spilling my life inside her, making her my own.

We lay together, side by side, cuddled close together, spent and

cooling

in the early morning air.



"I love you," I said, again. I could never say those words enough.



"It didn't hurt."



"What?"



"When we made love. You said it would hurt. It didn't. It was

wonderful."



I couldn't think of anything to say to her, so I kissed her

instead.



"Do you want to know how I feel, Scully?" I finally asked her,

after

exploring the depths of a mouth that I could now call my own.



"Yes, I'd like that very much, Mulder."



"Alive."



Epilogue

TITLE: Alive part 8 of 10

AUTHOR: Easterhawk





It is late evening now, and Mulder is sleeping peacefully beside

me. I

have his love and he has mine. Our worlds, our lives, may never be normal

or perfect or even anything close to reality, but we have each other. We

will continue to search for the truth, to protect the innocent, but we

will

do it together, not just as partners, but as something infinitely more

precious. Our lives are intertwined now, inexorably, forever.



Three weeks. I will not allow myself to think about the aliens or

conspiracies, or anything of that nature for the next three weeks. Nor

will

I allow Mulder to do so. Our work will be there when we return. It always

is. For now, we have a life start, a new life, together.



He looks so young lying there. He looks happy, for once, and at

peace with

himself. He has a slight smile on his face, formed by lips that I know I

will never get enough of. I hope he is dreaming of me.



Right before he fell asleep he told me that I gave him back his

life. If

he only knew. he has given me life and so much more, time and again.

Together, we are alive.