Title: Take the Mile Author: Gina Rain (ginarain@aol.com) Rating: NC-17 (Language, sex) Category: MSR Spoilers: Season 7 (specifically Amor Fati) Archive: Sure Summary: After dreams of a normal life, Mulder decides he must have at least one weekend away from the angst of his daily routine. He asks Scully to go along with him. Disclaimer: Aw. Do we still have to? 1013, Chris Carter, Fox. It's all theirs. Thank you: To Christina, my beta. It feels like my story has a little blessing when you put your Christina seal of approval on it. Thank you. Part One The Conversation Give me an inch and I've been known to take a mile. I've also been known to give back the inch and retreat ten miles. Six of one; half a dozen of the other. The sensation of her fingers touching my lips had barely faded before I sought the solace of my "safe place." I stood in the hallway and closed my eyes immediately. Yes, we were still there, building our spaceships of sand. Present day Mulder and what I can only assume is the younger version of myself. I can't say I remember being quite as good looking a little guy as my imagination would suggest but, frankly, I can think of no one else he could represent. It's a good thing I never really went the old hang-out-a-shingle-and-get- rich route. I'd starve. I can't even figure out my own psyche. Never mind anyone else's. Once I determined that the safe place was still in my mind waiting for me, I left the hallway. For some reason, that ugly hallway is a virtual hotbed of almost- romantic activity between Scully and myself. "Almost" being the operative word here. It was time to leave that place of temptation and reconnect with my life's mission. I threw the Yankee victory cap squarely on my desk and hit the couch. There would be no work today and, if Scully had her way, no work for the rest of the week. Might as well get used to a life of leisure. Five days of it loomed ahead and it was a good opportunity to re-focus. The slide show of a so-called normal life had been interesting but wouldn't find Samantha and wouldn't save the world. I rested with my eyes closed, trying to picture myself and the little guy again. The sand-spacecraft was shaping up nicely. It became clearer as consciousness gave way to dreams. My miniature shadow worked beside me in companionable silence for a while before he nudged my elbow and looked at something in the distance. He really couldn't be me. Even at a young age, I would never gesture when a few hundred well chosen words would do. I looked in the direction he was focusing on but the glare of the sun prevented me from seeing anything. I started to pack more sand on the base of the ship. Mystery-child nudged me again. Again, I looked up. Shit, shit, shit. A female form was slowly approaching. That much I could make out. A long black negligee slinking forward through glare and shadow. I could easily justify the visions I had of Diana during my surgery because--well, I was fucked up and she was more than likely in the room, witnessing the butchery. My subconscious probably picked up its cues from the sound of her voice. External stimuli. I've fallen asleep with the TV on many times, only to have my most erotic dreams interrupted by long, lingering close-ups of the Juicemaster 2010, and I know I have no previous sexual history with kitchen appliances. But now--well. This was not good. Diana was definitely not in the room this time. Hell, she was no longer among the living. There was my answer. I had just received the news this morning. Grief--of a sort, mixed with guilt-- of a sort, equaled her ghostly apparition in the safe haven of my dream. Yes, that sounded about right. I had an explanation. I could continue my dreaming in peace. Except for the nudgy kid. The surprisingly sharp little elbow bit into my side again. I ignored it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him standing. Good. If I could guide this dream a bit, I would want him to take a small walk until he could get that spastic appendage under control. Leave me to my job. Something wet hit the side of my face and landed on my shoulder. Icy, slimy. . .fingers? What the? Seaweed. He pelted me with seaweed. I looked up at him wondering if I could get away with corporal punishment in a dream state when I saw him pointing toward Diana again. Yes, I know, I know. She does have big tits but. . . But it wasn't Diana. It was Scully. Scully in a black negligee. Scully walking slowly, seductively. Toward me. Offering me a normal life. Offering me. . .a chance. We said our vows, didn't we? We wrote them ourselves. Touchstones and constants. Yes. Yes. I am. I step through the sand-spaceship. I know I am destroying it but who cares? The kid? What kid? The beach fades; the ocean disappears. The glare and the shadows step away. I feel the phantom touch of her fingers running across my lips. I feel her presence warm me as she gets closer and closer. Forward. Forward. Hair gently blowing back from her face; blue eyes smiling and sure. I need her. I want her. I. . . Gone. She's gone. I'm gone. The beach is gone. The dream--as all dreams in their sweetest moments--gone. I picked up the phone before reason set in. "Scully," she said in lieu of a greeting. "Mulder," I said in response. I could feel her smile. "How are you feeling, Mulder?" "Incomplete." She laughed. A small, nervous laugh. Unsure of the meaning behind my words. She's probably already diagnosing septicemia or encephopathy or all the other complications doctors warn you about when you actually have surgery that isn't of the "no-frills" variety. "In what way?" she asked. I sighed. A little girly, I know, but I couldn't help it. "In every way, Scully. I'm incomplete." "Mulder?" Ah, Doctor Scully was taking over now. "Are you okay? Really? You didn't. . .fall, or anything, did you?" "No. I didn't fall. I'm just tired." "Well, did you try to take a nap? I could give you a very light sedative, if you'd like." "I want more." "I can't give you anything too harsh. Your system has been through. . ." "I want a honeymoon." "I'll be right over." Was that the sound of breaks squealing in the background? "The words thrill me, Scully, but I have a feeling your intent is way too pure." It's her turn to sigh. And not a girly sigh, either. A frustrated one. I've completely confused her and probably frightened her as well. Time to make amends. "Where are you, Scully. Right now?" "I'm headed toward your place. I should be there in about fifteen minutes." "Pull over for a minute so we can talk." "What?" "Please. I don't want any distractions." I heard the usual traffic sounds muffle. "All right, Mulder. I pulled over and closed the window. We can talk." "You want me to stay away from the office for a few days, right?" "Yes. I think it would be best." "Well, I'm willing to go along with you if. . ." "If?" "If I can get out of this damned apartment and go somewhere. It doesn't have to be far but I want a beach. And water. And you--to come with me." "Mulder. . ." "What? You want a man recovering from major brain surgery to be in some remote location without medical help readily available?" "That is so manipulative, Mulder." "Yes, I know. So--what do you say?" "Having your personal physician follow you to a seaside resort is your idea of a honeymoon? You really don't get out much, Mulder." I smiled to myself. Atta girl, Scully. "I'm a very compliant patient, Doctor Scully. I'm willing to accept whatever orders my doctor gives me." Silence. Well, it was nice while it lasted. I pushed the envelope until it tore. I'll blame it on the neurosurgery. She'll go along with it for the sake of propriety. She's good that way. "I. . ." Well, that was a nice definitive answer from her. "Listen, Scully. I'm sorry. Really. I guess it's just cabin fever and too much time on my hands. . ." "I have to clear it with Skinner first," she managed to say. Skinner? She has to clear our honeymoon with Skinner? She laughed a little, almost as if she read my thoughts. Well, why not? I could read hers there for a while. "I'm sure he won't have a problem with it. I'm caught up with everything and I was just going to go over some of the old files and straighten out the cabinets. . ." "You're a model of efficiency." Nice touch. This morning: touchstone; constant. This afternoon--she's a good worker. Nothing gets to a woman like that old sweet talk. "Maybe I was bored, too, Mulder. No distractions. No haring off to God knows where with my crackpot, albeit brilliant, partner." Smoky. Her voice is smoky in that good, toe-curling way. I lean closer to the phone. "Seven okay?" Any position you like. Oh, that's probably not what she meant. "Sure. But we haven't picked a place," I remind her. "I know a place, if that's all right with you." "Sure. Sounds intriguing." "Pack light." Sounds more than intriguing. I heard her soft breathing and then the snick of the phone disconnecting. Our own personal way of never saying good bye. ******************* I knew he'd call. I didn't know he'd go so far as to suggest a "honeymoon," but I understood the reasoning behind that, too. Just because I refuse to acknowledge some of the things he says, doesn't mean I don't "get it." I sat behind the wheel of my car, debating over. . .what? I didn't even know. I went insane when he was locked up. I would have gone anywhere--done anything to get him back. And I came back and he was soon gone. God. I needed to tell him things. I needed for him to understand. Had I stayed in DC, he might have known it all. Instead, we had a few moments. A small window of time for me to tell him, with only my thoughts--just what I felt for him. And yet, I know that's not true. I felt connected to him every moment I was in Africa. The connection never died even when we were miles and oceans apart. He knew. He knew what was in my heart. But I never expected him to acknowledge it. I never expected him to point blank tell me what was in his. He did. In that bizarre hallway of his. It does seem to be the one place where Mulder is not only truthful; he's downright poetic. Maybe we should just set up house in that hallway. A honeymoon, huh? A brief interlude, then back to the real world. Back to all the things we had vowed to accomplish in this lifetime. It wasn't an unreasonable request. Part 2 The Decision Virginia Beach. Well, I asked for a beach and we really didn't have time to drive further and Scully didn't want me on a plane, for some reason. It really wasn't as nippy as I thought considering the fact that the summer was gone. Summer took the tourists with it. I can deal with any nip in the air for that exchange. She chose a bed and breakfast. Great. We'd have the snoopy owners on our asses offering us fruit twenty four hours a day. So far, things did not look promising. During the last two hundred miles or so of driving, we spoke. About things we always speak of. Old x-files; mutants we have known; her brother Bill. I talked about some idiotic movie that I spent half the night watching. Actually, I couldn't sleep because thoughts of spending some time alone with Scully was making me jump out of my skin. I should have saved the nerves and caught some shut-eye. She was just here to keep me out of trouble. There was nothing flirty or seductive about anything she said and she was just. . .well, Scully. Not a trace of nervousness and while I know she's not exactly a "blushing bride" to go with my mind's own warped wedding theme. . .I'm nervous over the thought of us eventually sleeping together. So, either she is a lot more pragmatic than I thought or she's, once again, packed the green facial mud for her nighttime attire. We reached the door on at the far end of the hall on the second floor. She slipped the key in the lock and turned to me. "Wait till you see this." She flung the door open and she was right. It was huge and airy and very. . . free. A perfect antidote to cabin fever and about as far away from my apartment, thematically, as you could get. French doors stood open letting the breeze from the beach blow into the room and the most dramatic touch to all of this was a huge framed bed. Hell, I don't know what you call these things but that's what it looked like. A huge bed with a metal frame. And from the metal, on all four sides were gauzy curtains that you could draw closed, if you want; or let flap in the wind, as they were doing now. I guess I must have been amazed. I guess I let it show. "Great, isn't it?" I narrowed my eyes a bit. "Scully? You sound as if you've been here before." "I have." "Really?" "Yes." I think, in the unlikely event that I live to a ripe old age, I will still never hear Scully actually volunteer information that I am dying to hear. "I knew it would be perfect for you, Mulder. You can stretch out on the bed and look out at the beach. We can take a walk later. Maybe if it's sunny tomorrow we can even try to go into the water. And. . .the couch is just perfect for me." "The couch?" "Yes." I looked around. I hadn't noticed a couch. Who could with that bed in the room? It was there. Scully giveth and Scully taketh away. "I'm taking a shower, Mulder. Why don't you just take a long nap? Make yourself comfortable. If you sleep for a while, we can eat in the room. Marge won't mind." Marge? Oh, landlady-like person possibly bearing fruit. I went in to the bathroom and basically relieved myself and took a quick sponge bath. I passed her in the doorway as she was definitely settling in for a while. She had her overnight bag with her. I stood at the foot of the bed. Just me. What a waste. Still, the time wasn't right in spite of the signals I received yesterday. That much was obvious. I climbed on the bed and closed my eyes. ***************************** I changed my mind about this brief interlude sometime early this morning. I had packed for a romantic getaway but decided against it. Mulder was still recovering from surgery; his physical state could not always be easily determined due to his sheer-pigheaded refusal to ever give into weakness and. . . If we did this, how could I ever go back to the way we were before? We'd talk about it if we had to but more than likely, he'd take his cues from my behavior and we'd just let it drop. Someday--someday. I wavered a bit when I saw his eyes as he looked at the bed. The bed had reminded me of him. I had been miserable the last time I was here but that bed was something to behold. Something dreams were made of. And certainly perfect for us. A place to lock out the world. Mulder would probably run if actually trapped behind those curtains but if he didn't. . .that would tell me a lot, wouldn't it? I stepped out of the bathtub and dried off. As I went to the overnight bag to put on the sweats I had thrown in at the last moment, I saw the nightgown I had planned to wear for him. For him. Good God, what an old fashioned expression. As if my world revolved around him. As if. I slid it over my head. Pretty. Soft. I didn't think. I went to the door and opened it. He was sleeping. There. Proof. Mulder probably never slept in the afternoon in his entire life. Here I was thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking of and he was just trying to recover. I wanted to go straight back in the bathroom and change but something held me in place. I just needed to keep looking at that rare glimpse of the Mulder no one knows except me. The unguarded, untroubled man slumbering before me. ********************************* I must have fallen asleep before my head hit the pillow and for a moment, I wasn't quite sure if I was dreaming or just beginning to wake. But there she was. In the doorway. No green guck on her face. Not in the usual pajamas. Instead, she was wearing a navy blue nightgown. . .spaghetti straps and while perfectly modest, still showing more Scully-skin than I had seen in quite some time. She was standing in the doorway biting her lower lip and just looking at me. As soon as I opened my eyes and took in her appearance, she gave her version of the deer caught in headlights look, and backed into the bathroom again. Seconds later, she reemerged, tying the standard terry-cloth robes hotels provide tightly around her waist. "What's with the reverse Gypsy Rose Lee, Scully?" I ask sleepily, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. Maybe it was a dream. My dreams leave a lot to be desired. Literally. "What?" "I saw you walk out in a nightgown, Scully. Why the robe?" "Oh, well. . .it's colder in here. The steam from the shower threw off my internal thermometer." Uh-huh. Okay, I was now awake. I moved over so I was sitting on the bed, facing her with my legs firmly planted on the floor. Nice and non- threatening. Well, other than the fact that I was half- naked, I guess. Shit. It was the middle of the afternoon and I was stripped down to my boxers and she was in a nightgown and robe. For what? Naps? Somehow, I didn't think so. As she walked closer to the bed, to make her way around to the other side and the couch, I reached out and grabbed a handful of terry-cloth and pulled her toward me. "Mulder!" I trapped her between my legs and tried to undo her surprisingly good knots. She slapped my hands away. I brought them up again. "Come on, Scully. I want to see you." "You are seeing me, Mulder. Stop that." She slapped again but it was hardly convincing. I managed to get the knot loose and was just about to take a really good look at that nightgown when she pushed me down on the bed and followed my body as I surrendered to the backwards momentum and lay flat on my back. Scully. On top of me. "Hello," I said. Brilliant choice of words, I know. "Hi." She gave me a long, searching look and promptly pushed her head into my shoulder and seemed to burrow into me. "Ugh. Scully? When I once mentioned snuggling like baby cats. . .it was just a euphemism. I didn't mean for you to take me seriously." "I'm taking a moment." She's what? "Shhhh. . ." Okay. I put my arms around her in a loose embrace. The terry cloth gave her that teddy bear feeling but her mouth resting lightly against my neck and the deep inhalations of breath took all the innocence out of the moment. She was smelling me. Smelling my neck. No. No. Pleasant as it was; it would not do. Not at all. Toying with a loaded pistol was really not a good idea. Especially when it was an old pistol whose firing mechanism was probably on "hair-trigger" at the moment. "Tell me about your last visit here, Scully." "My cousin booked the room when I came down here for her wedding. A couple of years ago. Remember? I actually took two days off once upon a time." I smiled. I remember that horrible week. "I was alone, Mulder." Good. One less worry. Although thoughts of her writhing on this bed with another man would definitely have put to rest any worries about me ending the show before it began. She snuggled further into my shoulder and moved her right hand up and down my arm. Softly, reverently. I don't think any woman has touched me like I'm going to break before. I felt the press of her lips against my neck. Talk, Scully. Just talk. Later you can fondle all you want. "I mean, Mulder. I was really alone. Being alone in this room is a crime. I slept on the couch, actually, and spent half the night looking across the room at the bed and thinking about you in it." "Really?" She lightly danced her hand down my ribs and was making circles on my hip. Her elbow was actually touching my erection so I'm sure she wasn't unaware of what she was doing to me and the dire consequences if she continued. "I thought this would be a perfect bed if we. . ." Hip circling stopped. Snuggling against my neck stopped. She sat up quickly. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I really should have checked before. . ." "Dr. DeFiore said as long as I had the energy, I could do as I pleased. Guys like to volunteer this information to other guys. He had no way of knowing I usually have no use for it." She smiled and looked down at me briefly. Still needing evidence, I guess. Well, there's plenty of it. ************************ Well, surgery didn't diminish anything. Actually, Mulder has always been--responsive to stimuli. He must have caught on to the fact that people did actually notice-- or that I noticed because somewhere in the past few years, he took to wearing different underwear or different pants or something. It became a little more difficult to "read" him. But at the beginning, I was quite amazed to see how often he seemed to be aroused, and what--or who--seemed to be exciting him. I'm glad I still did. Quite a bit, apparently. He got off the bed and closed the curtains on his side. Then he proceeded to do the same with the ones at the foot of the bed. The one at the head of the bed was closed when we got there. Finally, he got back on the bed, drawing closed the final curtain. We were alone. All alone. Our safe place. He understood. "No one else in the entire world, Scully." He put his hands on either side of my robe and peeled it back. Slowly. I knew he'd like the nightgown. There was nothing blatantly sexual about it. He couldn't see through it and it wasn't that he could see the texture of my body without actually reaching out and touching me. But it was nice. A lacy bodice that flared out to a mid-length gown in satin. It was an odd feeling to see him overtly stare at my breasts. Odd. Nice. Turnabout is fair play. I had stared at his crotch a moment before. He leaned down and kissed the top of my left breast. I shivered under the soft touch of his lips. "Strange thing to wear if you were planning on sleeping on the couch," he pulled back and looked at me, amusement in his eyes. "I was. Sort of. And I wasn't. I actually didn't know what I was going to do." He leaned forward and kissed me there again. I could feel his mouth opening a bit more than the first time. "You're not scared of me, are you, Scully?" he murmured against my chest. "I'm not twelve, Mulder," I said, as I put my hands on his shoulders, drawing him closer. "No. But I'm a little scared of you," he said as he continued to burrow down into the little lacy breast- hammock. His hands were on my waist, gripping tightly. "Why?" "Because. . ." he mumbled, obviously feeling the word was an adequate answer. It was. That's the one I would have come up with if pressed for a reason why I was a little frightened of him. Frightened or not, he was driving me insane with that warm soft mouth. "Oh." I pushed his hands off my waist and slid down on the bed until he was hovering over my face.Pretty impressive move, I must admit. "Fine honeymoon this is, Mulder. You haven't even kissed me yet." Not on my lips, anyway. Mulder could be a very agreeable man. He leaned down and opened his mouth over mine. I somehow expected a weak, tentative sort of kiss for our first. Instead, we were sort of tasting each other all at once. I couldn't get enough of him and he, apparently, felt the same way. With the obstacle of that first kiss out of the way, the hands followed. He was no longer giving me soft tentative touches. He was grabbing and stroking and pushing clothing up and pulling clothing down. I moved my hands around his back and grabbed his boxers and pulled them down--halfway. He pulled his mouth from my breast. "No, Scully. Please. I'm. . .a little too close, if you know what I mean. Don't. . .you know. Touch me later." Suddenly, I wanted to laugh. I only stopped myself because it would probably kill him but it was joyously funny. "Mulder. . ." Hard to get out any words when he was tugging at a nipple and moving his hands between my thighs. "Mulder. . .skip the foreplay. We can do that later, too. Really." "Really?" He lifted his head up--a look of barely disguised relief on his face. "Mmmmhmmm. . ." words were getting a little more difficult. I was very close to an orgasm and his penis hadn't made an appearance yet. "I'm. . .ready when you are." God. What a romantic thing to say. All systems go. Engines revved up. You can attempt lift-off now. Oh, God. That's what he was doing. He had just the tip of his cock in me when I decided that the nightgown that I had so loved was in a ridiculous cummerbund position and I wanted it off. I tried sitting up while he was pretty much braced over me, which effectively pushed him all the way home and I groaned loudly even as I pulled the offensive satin-lace contraption over my head. A look of sheer torture came over his face. It looked like he was gathering every ounce of strength he had to hold himself back. After that first shock of all of him sliding tightly inside me, my body adjusted to him and I wanted him to move. So badly. "Mulder. God, you feel so good. " I moved my hips a little to the right and felt that excruciating stretching sensation that made me want even more. He took the hint and slid almost all the way out and plunged back in. . .deeply. I hadn't expected that. I dug my nails into his back. He did it again. And again. And again. Remarkable considering how close he was. How close I was. I opened my eyes to find his tightly shut and his face straining. Still holding back. I removed my fingernails from his back and cupped his face before pulling it down for another open-mouthed kiss. As I let him go, we looked into each other's eyes. I arched my back under him just as he was pushing forward and I came with a silent cry to the heavens and earth and whoever was not listening. Mulder heard. As I heard his less than silent cry a few moments later. For a weak man, he had a lot of stamina. God help me when he was well. *************************** Part Three The Choice How will we go back after this? We spent the afternoon in bed that first day only to let our hostess slip us some food. Luckily, she was not a fruit-pusher. She left the food and ran. Of course, I was still half-naked so that probably gave her some clue as to what we were doing in there. We took a breather later and went for a walk on the moonlit beach. I put my arms around her as we sat in the sand and looked at the stars. "This is my new favorite place on earth," I murmured in her hair. "What was the first?" "Your apartment." "Really?" "Yup. It's very 'you.'" She turned her head and planted a kiss somewhere between my jaw and. . .well, the air. I managed to flip us over and she touched the smaller bandage we used for this road trip. It was still pretty ugly. And yet, I managed to turn her on in spite of it. I moved my hand to her pelvis. "Sore?" "A little." "Me, too." She laughed. A full-out laugh. "I didn't expect that." "What?" "When you asked me if I was sore. . .I thought it was-- well, macho posturing. 'I made my woman sore.' That type of thing. But you. . .you would turn around and tell me I helped make you sore." "Lady, you damned near killed me. Thank you, by the way." "You're welcome." She pushed at my shoulder and I moved off her and onto my back. She quickly straddled my knees and opened my jeans. "What are you doing down there, Scully?" I asked, hoping against hope, that she wouldn't stop. "I'm tending to my patient." Indeed, she was. She stroked me softly until there was nothing soft to stroke. And then she slid that mouth on me. And what a lovely mouth it was. I leaned up on my elbows, hoping to see her in the dim light of the half- moon. She lifted her eyes to meet mine even as her head went as far down as she could comfortably take me. Good. Really. I didn't want a porn queen trying to swallow me whole. I always worry that these poor women will forget to breathe and what in the world would the poor dopey guys tell the EMS workers? I move my hand to her shoulder to warn her but she shook her head softly and increased the pressure of her mouth. She swallowed what she could and licked off the rest, leaning her head against my belly when she was done. "Less sore?" she asked softly as she drew little hearts on my flaccid penis. "I don't think I have any feeling left to be sore." She laughed again. She was tired. We had only a few moments of sleep here and there. It was all too raw and all too new. I ran my hand through her hair. "We should go back and sleep." "No. I don't want to. We have so little time." I continued to stroke her hair as I looked out at the ocean. This was real. Lying out here in the early fall. . .feeling the cool air on my skin. Scully warm against my hip. My poor dick in recovery from the total shock of so much activity initiated, for once, by another human being. This was real. There were other things that were real, as well. . .but I couldn't hold them. Tomorrow. I'd think about them tomorrow. ****************************** We'd put off a lot in the last few days and tomorrow, we were leaving. Honeymoon over. Back to reality. I could cry if I wanted to waste the time. How I love him. How he loves me. And we've just had. . .fun. Fun. I had almost forgotten what that was. It was bathing together in too cold water and then trying to warm up in a bathtub just slightly too small for Mulder and myself. It was premature ejaculation finally catching up with him when I was trying to increase our enjoyment by putting my knees over his shoulders and he just happened to be looking down and got caught up in the moment. It was laughing about it until he was completely recovered and making love slowly. . .slowly and telling each other all the nonsense that only two people in the dark can dream up. He was taking a shower before bed and I sat out on the balcony overlooking the beach. He came up behind me and kissed the back of my neck. "Don't." "Don't what?" "You know what." "I know." He came around and sat on the ground in front of me. He leaned his head against my knees. "I've been thinking. . ." "No." "I haven't been thinking?" Humor is a very strange thing. We both use it. In about a 10:1 ratio--Mulder beating me there. It deflects a lot. But I couldn't let him use humor and I couldn't let him complete his sentence. "You can't do what you think you want to." "Can't?" "I won't let you." "You didn't let me in my dreams--when I was on the operating table. I thought you might cut me some slack in my real life." "I would love nothing more, Mulder. But--this is a path you chose a long time ago. You've given too much. As have I. Stopping now--before we find what we're looking for--you'd never forgive me. And I'd never forgive myself." There. I said it. He tightened his grip on my knees. "You are so beautiful," he whispered into my nightgown. I combed my fingers through the strands of hair sticking out against his bandage. "So are you." "I can't give you up, Scully." "I know. We could be. . .discreet, I suppose." He lifts his head from my knees and looks into my eyes. Let's see. . .Fourth of July sparkers look or Santa's been very-very good to me look? I couldn't quite decide. "Discretion has always been my middle name," he says cheerfully. "Uh-huh." I pull him up and lightly touch his face. He smiles. He no longer has the official power. He does know me, though. As I know him. I read his mind. He reads mine. We kiss. Discretion. The way we will handle our honeymoon's end. ***************************** Epilogue: Three months later I was in deep shit now. She settled me in the car and strapped my seat belt around me. She got in the driver's seat and finally turned to me. "I can't believe you did that." "You didn't seem to mind at the moment." "I. . . didn't. I know I wanted you to. But. . ." "But, nothing, Scully." "Discretion, Mulder. . .remember?" "It was a very public, very chaste--for us, kiss between two partners on New Year's. The new millennium, for heaven's sake. The world didn't end, remember?" She smiled and shook her head. I probably wouldn't be able to get away with such behavior again but it was definitely worth the zombie attack to bring our relationship into the light. . .for one small moment of time before rejoining the "real world." She did accompany me to the hospital, after all. That was all the encouragement I needed. I took the mile. The End Author's Notes: Goodness. Such decisions. To use timelines and ruin my surprise ending. . .or to risk confusion. . .what to do, what to do? This little story has been rumbling around in my mind. It was going to be a simple summer Mulder and Scully hit the beach tale. Then, I wanted to address Amor Fati. Then, I wanted to practice smut. Or was it comedy? Or was it some notion I had in my head that something strange happened to Scully during that Millenium kiss? She had an awfully weird reaction to an innocent sounding line from Mulder. So, in my usual way, I combined all of the above and ended up with. . .this. This story is very fondly dedicated to Spookychick, where ever she is. Prometheus 1013 was a great site that I miss, and I miss its webmistress. If you are out there lurking somewhere, this is for you. For your wonderful support during this past year of writing. You made me feel very special and I hope all is well and you will soon be rejoining the "community."