Title: The Eggshell Dance Author: Gina Rain (ginarain@aol.com) Rating: R (for some sexual content) Category: MSR, S, A Spoilers: Post-episode for all things with a brief mention of events in Per Manum. NOT a season eight story in any way. Archive: Sure, but drop me a line and let me know where. I like to visit. Summary: Can one bizarre week truly change the way Scully thinks? Disclaimer: The X-files and its lovely characters belong to CC and 1013. Doesn't mean I have to like it at the moment--but that's a fact. No infringement is intended. Take your lawyers and go in peace. Amen. Thank you: To my beta, Christina. I knew you'd be able to catch something in this thing. This was too good to sleep through. My first night with Mulder. I hadn't fallen asleep. Not really. Just dozed on and off for the last few hours. Mulder, on the other hand, was out. I don't think I've ever seen him so completely spent before. Of course I haven't. We have never been in this situation before. I looked down at the most erotic sight to hit these eyes-that-have-seen-everything in a long time. Mulder lying by my side with his dark head tucked against the crook of my arm and lips pursed just about an inch and a half from my left nipple. My arm was completely asleep anyway, so the temptation to jostle him into consciousness was not just a matter of greed, but of practicality. However, I would admit that the thought of him picking up where he had started last night before we moved on to more pressing, urgent matters was more of an incentive than relieving any pressure on my limbs. I ran my finger over the lower lip that looked even poutier in sleep. I couldn't do that to him. I had already changed the man's life today. The least I could give him was a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. He must be jet-lagged, I thought, as I stroked the wayward locks of hair that kept falling over his forehead. Mulder was not a naturally good sleeper. I was. I had been so tired before. It was amazing that I couldn't get back to a deep sleep now. So much change. All initiated within me and by me. I had started the week seeking peace. From Mulder. From the X-files. From the disappointment that had recently characterized my life. I actually refused to accompany him to a crop circle goose chase in order to reach this desired state. I didn't get my wish. Instead, I came face to face with my past. Mulder was nowhere in sight, yet I experienced my own personal x-file. Time seemed to stand still enough for me to reflect on the person I had once been while, at the same time, it was rushing forward--almost urging me to identify the woman I was now. With all my wants, needs and desires. In the end, I was left knowing what I didn't want in life. A lot of "what if's" were forever put to rest. Most people never get to say that After spending an hour or so relaying this bizarre experience to Mulder, my body just shut down. I don't remember dreaming. I just remember waking and finding that I had been tucked in. Like a little papoose. Safe and warm in a world illuminated only by the blue-green light from his fish tank. My eyes were almost closing again when another image hit me. Mulder. The image of Mulder listening to the story I told him a few short hours ago. Not judging me. Not telling me I was crazy or foolish. Listening. Even as I told him about another man. Told him how much that man had meant to me and just how atypical my behavior had been as a result. It couldn't have been easy but his face didn't give anything away. I was revealing a part of myself and he was interested in hearing it. All of it. The memory of Mulder's face told me something. All was not right with the world. Not at all. I had not asked Daniel to be the father of a child I had hoped to conceive. Daniel had not held me when that most personal of ventures did not succeed. He did not comfort me and make me believe, using only the sound of his voice and the warmth of his embrace, we would somehow find a miracle. I talked about the man I once thought I wanted to spend my life with, with the man I actually was spending my life with. The one I wanted to spend my life with. Whether a child ever completed the picture or not. And yet, we had barely shared a kiss. No, all was not right. I walked into his room. He was asleep. I peeled off my clothes and crept into bed beside him. This felt better. When my hand touched his side, he hurled himself on me and pinned me to the mattress by my waist. He relaxed his grip as he realized who he had manhandled and gave a soft smile of apologetic embarrassment. "You're not wearing anything," he said, circling his thumb against my ribcage. "No. I'm not," I answered, never letting my gaze drift from his. He licked his lips briefly. For a moment, I thought he was going to ask me if I wanted to borrow some of his clothes but he knew why I was in his bed. He had to know. I reached for him about the same time he leaned down over me. For a first time, it went as a lot of first times go. Fast. Seven years of foreplay and I was three quarters of the way to an orgasm before I even entered his bedroom. He probably was more than half-way there by the time our lips touched. There was no disappointment, though, just a shared bout of affectionate laughter, a sense of great relief and a slow, wonderful seduction that started almost immediately thereafter. The second time was beautiful. It was beyond anything I had previously imagined. It was Mulder. Right there. A man slowly releasing all the love he had stored away during a lifetime and giving it all to me. And me, returning it. Finally. I closed my eyes and drifted once again. "I love you, I love you," warm, breathy whispers I could still hear. Soft sounds of our bodies joining. Mulder sliding back almost to part our bodies entirely, only to thrust quickly forward. Over and over. Creating the friction that was indicative of our relationship. One slow step back, one very quick step forward. Time and again. Always connected in some way. I listened to his voice as he continued what had almost become his mantra, broken only by hitched breaths and fevered moans. I listened. "Oh, God, Scully," I had closed my eyes, not quite able to bear the expression on his face. The pure concentration of holding himself back after he had begun to experience what had, until now, only been a dream. Holding back so I could have the initial taste. So unbearably, heartbreakingly reticent to partake of the pleasure life and love was offering him that I could hardly stand it. So much. Too much. Too much emotion. Too much sensation. This was Mulder. Soft eyes and hard body. This was Mulder. With his next movement forward, I gripped the soft flesh between his shoulder blades and let myself go. I knew he watched my face as my body gripped his in a series of strong spasms. Watched and waited and then finally moved to seek the same release for himself. I felt him spilling into me and opened my eyes as his closed tightly and his teeth quickly sunk into his lower lip to still the cry that surely would have broken free. I said the second time had been beautiful? The second time had been earth shattering. When I opened my eyes, I saw the barest hint of a change in the color of the night sky outside of his window. I looked at Mulder's alarm clock. 5:30. I turned as much as I could with Mulder still half-lying on my arm. He had moved a little while I slept, but not much. I should wake him. Wake him and tell him we needed to call in sick. Both of us. Flu for two. Fly to Aruba and lie naked in the sun for three days. Make love continuously. Get married. Adopt babies. I pushed myself up. Mulder adjusted his body and rolled away from me and on to his other side. Marriage? Babies? No. Those were just the unbidden "junk" thoughts that pop in and out of your consciousness several times a day. Still, I was serious about the calling in sick. I didn't want to go to work. I wanted to be with him. All day, every day. To hell with work. I got out of bed and walked to Mulder's bathroom. The lighting and general décor was on par with the rest of the place. I looked in the mirror. Who was this woman staring back at me? Naked, hair mussed, eyes sort of glazed. I leaned forward. Who was this woman? A believer of odd visions? A woman who changes her life on the basis of random memories and a few strange days? A woman so desperate for a continuation of the joys of the flesh that she was willing to compromise her hard- earned professionalism? I sighed. In spite of the disheveled appearance, Dana Scully was still shining through. My thoughts started to assault me the minute they were given the opportunity. Dana Scully was Dana Scully. I didn’t change overnight. Not for anything. Not for anyone. I went back in the bedroom and quickly picked up my clothes. Went back in the bathroom until I looked like myself again. Cool mask back on. Ready to face the responsibilities of the day. I thought of leaving a note. There wasn't much point. I'd see him at work in a couple of hours. He knew I needed to change and I had no idea what to say to him anyway. I wasn't going to sink into his bed and live out the rest of my life in some kind of slow motion love- fest. Neither was he. We were grownups, for God's sake. I let myself out of his apartment. Idiotic. I felt idiotic as I was driving toward the Hoover building. I panicked. I thought too much. While we didn't have to fly to exotic locations or come down with a case of the plague, we could have spent some time together this morning before work. As it was, Mulder probably woke up and checked to see if I left five dollars on the nightstand for him. I walked into the bagel shop. I'd get him a nice little breakfast and we'd make plans for this evening. We wouldn't have Aruba, but it was Friday so we could have the weekend. "Your change, Miss," the man behind the counter smiled in that annoying way that some men have in their misguided attempts to be sexy. He put the quarters, dime and pennies in the palm of my hand and slid his fingers slowly across my flesh and up toward my fingertips. I pulled my hand away and gave him the most "drop dead" expression I could muster up. "Have a good day, beautiful," was his only response. I could complain to management but I had a sinking feeling he was management. Fuck him. There was more than one bagel place in town and I'd make damn sure I gave another one my business come Monday. I arrived in the basement before Mulder. It was early enough that I actually got to see the cleaning man finishing the vacuuming. I think I've run into him about three times in all the years we've been down here. Henry, I think his name is. I set my bags down on the desk as I put my trench coat on the coat rack. Henry smiled. I smiled back. Nice old man. About a month from retirement. He picked up his vacuum and as he was leaving he tossed out an overly-cheery "Have a good one, Dr. Scully," and accompanied it with a wink. Kind of a lascivious wink. A wink. From the cleaning man. A caress. From the bagel guy. Could these guys smell a recently-laid woman? I took a breath. Lack of sleep. Big life change. Step back. Depersonalize. Everything will be fine. Just then, I heard him. Coming down the hall. It's not like he clomps down the hallway in clunky shoes but I do know the sound of his footfall. I closed my eyes briefly but opened them quickly as a little slide show of last night's highlights played in my mind. Professional. We were in professional mode now. He walked through the door with a slightly cautious demeanor. Almost as if he expected to be hit by a wayward frying pan. I smiled at the thought and reached out to pick up the paper bag with his bagel and coffee. He was holding out a bag for me. "Great minds think alike?" he asked. "Looks like it." I took the bag from his hand and peered inside. Cholesterol special. A sticky bun and highly fragrant hazelnut coffee. A little bit of heaven. I lifted an eyebrow. "Sticky bun?" "I figured you probably worked off the calories and could afford to cheat for once." I frowned. I didn't want him bringing what happened outside of the workplace here. I didn't want to talk about it here at all. "Or was that just a dream I had last night?" he asked softly. "I have no idea what dreams you have, Mulder." "No?" "Mulder," I knew there was a definite tone of warning in my voice but I had to stop him before he really even started. I wanted to begin the day over again and it was barely past nine A.M. Since I couldn't, I wanted to just--back away a bit. Another deep breath. "Mulder. Not here, not now. Okay? It's not you at all. I'm just a little--confused this morning. I just need to think a bit." He looked like the phantom frying pan had just made contact with his cranium. "Of course. Thank you for breakfast." He took the bag and headed for his desk. I'm pretty sure he never ate the bagel. Or the bun he bought for himself. I tried not to look at him too much. Attacked the man in his bed last night, ruined his appetite this morning. All because of a simple remark he made that dared reference our life altering sexual encounter. The trouble was, I could say that I would change things from this moment on and make amends but I knew that I didn't feel that way. Something bothered me and until I figured out what it was, I was basically going to let out my frustrations where I could. Mulder and I should keep a score card for the many times we had each used each other for exactly that purpose. Sometime after the lunch hour that neither of us took, I looked up. He was staring at his computer screen, occasionally giving one of the keys a tap or moving the mouse a bit. "You look tired, Mulder. You should go home. You probably have jet lag." He brought his hands up, making a steeple with lightly touching fingertips. He used it to cover half his face. I could see the steeple and his eyes. Nothing more. He was quiet. Staring at me and quiet. "You could have a good rest and you'll be fresh for the rest of the weekend," I continued, not exactly knowing what the hell I was saying to him. "You're right," he finally said. "I get it." He gets it? He gets what? Mulder, leaper of logic, came to some sort of conclusion during a rather simple exchange of words. This was not good. Before I could question him, he picked his jacket off the back of his chair and headed toward the door. "Have a good weekend," he called over his shoulder and he was gone. He thought I didn't want to spend time with him this weekend. That's not what I said--or meant--at all. Good going, Dana. I had let myself into his apartment and found it empty. His running shoes were gone from his bedroom. He usually throws them in the vicinity of his closet door. It's his own disorganized organization. The weather had been nice. Early spring. Nippy but, if he kept moving, he'd be warm enough. I looked down at the clothes I had changed into after work. Fine for a walk in the park. Well, I thought I was wearing enough but after forty five minutes of walking, I was getting cold. The thin jacket worn over my jeans and sweater was not enough protection against a wind that was determined to pick up speed as the sun slowly began to wind down for the day. I was about to go back to his apartment and wait there when I saw him by the paddleball court. Sitting on the ground with his back against the wall. I plopped myself next to him. He had seen me but didn't really look up and didn't say anything. I mentally tallied up the total of words I heard him say that day. Under thirty, I believe. A new world record. "Hey," I said. Always a nice bland greeting. "Hey." "I went by your place and you weren't there." That was good. State the obvious. "No. I guess I wasn't." He was so sweaty. His hair was dripping and the front of his tee-shirt was soaked. He must have done some pretty hard running because the temperature was mild, at best. I crept my hand between his arm and his waist and hugged his elbow to me. He looked straight ahead of him. Even when I rested my head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about this morning, Mulder." "No. It's fine. I shouldn't have said anything and besides. . . I made assumptions." "You had every right to mention last night, Mulder. I. . .should have stayed." "Why didn't you?" I sighed and dropped the arm hug. I took his left hand between both of mine. Beautiful, long fingers. My hand next to his seemed so small but so right. His darker skin against the pale white of mine. Yin and Yang. There I was with the metaphysical stuff again. I guess I don't know to quit while I'm ahead. "This morning, it was a whole new playing field for us. I was excited about the change. I barely slept all night. I had visions of ditching work and taking some exotic vacation. You and me and a beach. Clothing not only optional but preferably forbidden. But, these thoughts started to trigger something. Something that really bothered me. And I really don't think I figured it out until you left the office today and I had some time to brood." "You don't brood, Scully. That's my job." "Well, get used to sharing, Mulder. I'm trying to open up my life to new experiences." I felt his body let out a half laugh. He was trying. Faster than I would have done if the situation had been reversed. That much I definitely knew about myself. "The last time I ever took time off just to "play" was with Jack--and Daniel before him. Both affairs were not exactly front page news but colleagues had their suspicions and when we took time off together, those suspicions were confirmed. At least in their minds. I worked damned hard and suddenly, I saw these little subtle changes in the people around me. People who had treated me with respect now had these barely hidden smirks on their faces. Kind of a "we know how you're getting ahead, Dana, and don't worry about it. You're not the first woman to do it this way and you won't be the last." "And you worried about it happening again? People have been thinking we've been sleeping together for years." "Thinking. But, not knowing. We're too much of a mystery to them, Mulder. They can't ever say for certain because. . .well, it hasn't been true. This morning, I had two random jerk-encounters. The kind every woman gets all the time. But I somehow convinced myself that they knew. And now, they could say for certain because it was true. I just saw myself losing the respect of everyone in the Bureau and it bothered me. I thought the only way to counteract any of this was to act like a complete professional and then you walked in and made that casual reference to last night and …" "You freaked." I smiled. "Yeah, I 'freaked.' And, there was something else." He let out a soft sigh. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to think too much?" "I missed that lesson." "Okay. Lay it all out, Scully. I'm listening." Yes, he was. He was also wound up tight. I could feel it as I continued to lean against him. He was braced for bad news. "I don't know if you ever noticed, Mulder, but I'm somewhat of a control freak." I snuck a sideways glance. He was trying not to smile. "I noticed," he quietly acknowledged, careful to keep emotion out of his voice. "Well, all the weird things I had experienced over the last few days had initially been exciting. Dana Scully having visions. Dana Scully believing in visions. Especially since you weren't around to influence me in any way. It proved to me how much I had changed. But in the cold hard light of day, I realized that I hadn't changed. Not really. I had accepted what happened to me over the last few days but I was still the same person. And I was left with a pretty big question. Did I precipitate last night's events by allowing a sense of destiny to take over? In general, I think control freaks have a major problem with destiny. We don't like believing that what happens in our lives is not through our own choice but through some preordained script that we only think we're writing as we go along." I snuggled against his now rigid shoulder. Bear with me, Mulder, I thought. It's almost over. I will explain everything. "But what exactly was my destiny? When we sat on the couch, I could have just as easily thought that was my destiny. Living the life of a celibate with a best friend to share adventures with. That was what was right before me. I didn't have to change a thing if I accepted that path." "I suppose you could have chosen to interpret your life in any number of ways," he said softly, lightly wrapping his fingers against mine as I ran them over his hands. "Which way do you think I interpreted it?" He shook his head softly. I knew it. I knew he left with some odd idea in his head and I wanted to hear it. "Mulder, please." "I thought. . .that you took a serious look at some of the things we had been through in the last year or so. That you thought about the future and what you wanted. And that someday you might want to tell our baby, if we're lucky enough to have one, that. . .you and I had once been lovers. That he or she wasn't a creation of genetic material merging in a sterile lab. One time and you could tell our child the truth. We had made love. It wouldn't really matter how many times we had done the deed. We had that moment." I opened my mouth. I had been right. This was a doozy. First off, there was no more of my genetic material for his to merge with and other options had not been addressed; and second--what the fuck? "I never--once--thought about the baby in this case, Mulder. Not once. Well, not in the way you think, anyway. The fact of the matter is, I knew exactly what I was doing last night. I just needed to remind myself of the moment. I woke up on your couch and knew that it was wrong for us to live as "just" friends. You weren't just my friend. I wasn't just yours. I felt furious that we had shared so very much together and never the . . .joy of just being with one another. I made a conscious decision to change that. Fate? Destiny? Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe I created my own destiny. . .which of course, is the story I will be sticking to from now on." There was the smile. The famous Mulder smile that lit up his eyes and did something to the pit of my stomach and regions further south. "It was so nice being able to love you, Mulder," I snuggled closer to him, resuming the elbow hug. He was absolutely silent and I was no longer sure he was breathing. Oh, that's right. I had used a form of the "L" word. "Mulder…did you pass out?" I asked. His voice, when he spoke, had a decided hitch to it. "I think--maybe--I'm having some sort of auditory hallucination." I slapped his arm playfully. "Mulder. I packed a bag. I brought enough clothes for a weekend and if you'd like, I'd like to spend it with you." Silence. The damned silent treatment was beginning to wear thin. "Mulder?" "No one is around, Scully. Sit on my lap so I can see you." I quickly complied. I didn't much care anymore if anyone did see us. This was more important. He buried his head immediately into my shoulder as I put my arms around him. He lifted his head and looked in my eyes. "I'm tempted to say no," he said. "What?" "No--to your offer of spending the weekend." I opened my mouth and closed it again. This wasn't the answer I was expecting. I was pretty much ready to pick up the pizza on the way home and ask him if he wanted wine or beer with his meal. "No?" I finally managed. "I'm tempted, I said. Not that I will actually say it." "I guess I really hurt your feelings and I'm sorry. . ." "I don't need you to be sorry. I need you to be sure. I was scared, Scully." "Well, you could have called me." I knew full well his fears weren't about me returning home safely to my apartment. "No. I was scared because you came to me yesterday with the strangest story I've ever heard--from your mouth, anyway--and then you hop into my bed. Naked. I've been waiting for you to make the first move in this 'final frontier' of our relationship--for a long time. Hell, I thought you'd never do it. You wanted me to be the father of your child and the most intimate contact we had in that encounter was you showing me where they kept the paper cups for the donation. And I was fine with that. Really. Flattered and fine. And when I found you gone this morning, I thought whatever your motivations were in sleeping with me, in the cold, hard light of day, they weren't so compelling. I thought my fondest dream had become my worst nightmare and I had lost you over this." "Mulder, I. . ." "And as I was showering, I thought I really didn't even have a right to think any of these things. Just accept the moment for what it was--a moment. Go to work and pretend nothing happened. Well, I couldn't do that. I had to say something, if only to gauge your reaction. And once I did, I had to start performing the usual eggshell dance. Knowing that whatever step I decided to take, I was going to do big damage. I don't like having to watch every single word that comes out of my mouth. I don't want to stop to think, if we're alone, away from the office--whether I can reach out and hug or kiss you. There are certain things I want and need if we're to incorporate. . .this into our relationship. If we can't strike a balance, then maybe we need to back away because I can't have a romantic relationship that is based on the fear of losing you." "But, Mulder. . ." Oh, no. There was no interrupting him. He was on a definite roll. A certain redness mixed with the sheen of sweat that already graced his lovely face. He was a little steamed and I was getting horny. Go figure. "I know, I know you told me the reason for your leaving and I thank you for it. However, I'm going to throw your own words back at you. Something you told me when I used to ditch you. We are a team. A team thinks as two, not one. And when a member of the team starts thinking only in terms of one, the feelings must be shared until the focus once again returns to the partnership. I've always thought you stole that out of the manual that went along with the partnership effectiveness seminar but that's beside the point. Two, Scully. Kick me in the shins in the morning and tell me to wake up and talk to you because you're feeling like you want to run. Tell me if I ever mention our relationship while we're out in public, I will need to carry my balls home in a paper sack. Talk to me." Maybe I should be mad. But I remembered the feelings I experienced when he ditched me. And it was never quite as personal as the ditching I did this morning. Still, as seriously as I took his words and the emotions behind them, I also felt a strange sense of happiness. This was Mulder. Not Mulder cowering in some corner waiting for me to make all the decisions in our relationship. And not a Daniel-wannabe who wants to take all the decision making away from me. This was a man reminding his professional partner that he is her partner in life, as well, and demanding his fair share-- of everything. That was very exciting. I've never had an equal relationship before and I'm sure this one won't be one either--all the time. But in the end, the scales might balance and that would be an incredibly new experience for me. "So," I cautiously approached the subject, trying to keep a straight face, in spite of the fact that I was dying to get home so I could just kiss him again. "Does this mean I can spend the weekend?" He laughed and nodded. I reached my hand out and smoothed back his drying hair. I leaned over and put my lips to his ear. "I'll be there in the morning, Mulder." I felt his arms tighten around my back. "I know you will." I shuddered at his words. "You cold?" he asked. "Freezing." He rubbed his hands briskly up and down my jacket. "We should head on back before the sun sets completely." I got off his lap and we began the rather long walk to his apartment. "What now?" he asked. "I think I'd like you to call the shots today. But I really do think we could both use a few hours of sleep before. . .whatever. Real sleep, I mean." He leaned his head back to relieve the tension in his neck. "I can't argue there." "Want to pick up a pizza on the way home?" I asked. "Home," he said, half to himself. I had called his gray old apartment home. And I meant it. "Pizza sounds just fine, Scully. You want beer or wine?" I giggled. First time in years, I think. Great minds do think alike. And they think differently. We'd have a discussion and come to a mutual decision once we hit the grocery store. I put my hand in his as we walked out of the park. Yin and Yang. Harmony was restored. The End