Ice in the Morning

Thu Nov 07 12:33:36 1996
Title - Ice in the Morning
Rating - PG
Classification - S R A

Legally: The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. I've borrowed them for fun not profit.

This story: I'm happy for the story to be circulated uncommercially, intact and with my name still attached.

Summary: Mulder/Sculder failed romance. It's a "morning after" the night they went too far story. Mulder and Scully do the wild thing and regret it.

This is a reply to a fanfic challenge posted a week or so back. The fact that I wrote it like this, doesn't mean it's what I think would be the outcome, but I've already written one story with a happy ending this month.

It's an R for some profane language and for some sexual allusions. Though if you understand the allusions you are probably old enough to read it. It's pretty tame.

Joann

Ice in the Morning

Those were all the words it took to break her. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. She'd known all night. Sensed that even as he lay there with his arms around her that he regretted it. She was grateful that he'd stayed but aware now that he had done it from some kind of sense of obligation. Evidence of his status as a nineties, new age sort of a man. Bastard.

She'd had lovers before. She wasn't a prude. She'd been in love before. She wasn't made of stone. But after four years of falling in love, four years of craving his touch and suppressing the craving. Finally letting go had changed things for her but apparently not for him.

The worst possible outcome. She's made the running. He'd responded, quietly, gently at first, slowing her down, giving her time to back out. Or maybe that was only superficial. Maybe it was that very reticence that had made her want him, want him so bad that anyone reading a transcript would have said it was a seduction, that she had pressured him, not a coming together of equals.

She would not break down, not now, not in front of him. Tonight, home in DC, in the quiet of her apartment. Then she'd beak down. God. She'd bared here soul to him last night and that was far more intimate and precious to her than having bared her body.

She couldn't even blame him. Couldn't claim she'd taken advantage of him. She wasn't a kid, it took two to tango. She'd made a play for him, he'd only reacted the way a man was supposed to react. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. If he hadn't succumbed, then what? What would that say about her? That she was ugly, cold, desperate, such a poor judge of other people that she deliberately chose to ignore his lack of interest.

It was rare to be in the office for this long, rare to be in town for this long. Mulder by some freak combination of accident, planning and calling in favours had strung together court appearances, paperwork, medicals to take them off the road for two weeks. It wasn't something he did. He'd even apologised to her for not consulting her on it before he'd put the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle in place.

'I just need to be in my own place for a few days..Catch up on reading.. Unwind a bit.. Do my laundry."

She knew what he meant. Living in motels was draining. Plus they'd been under one another's feet almost constantly in the last few weeks. She had complained about never getting any time to see her family. He'd taken it into his own hands.

Scully bumped into Carole Danes in the Quantico cafeteria. Carole smiled like she always did, but as they talked, Dana Scully sensed there was something wrong. "Carole, what's the matter? It's like you want to ask me something but you won't say it." Carole had been a good friend when they went through the Academy together. They hardly spoke nowadays but that wasn't surprising, Scully was seldom available for nights out with the girls these days. Time, energy and now even enthusiasm being in short supply.

Scully sat up straighter, startled by the question. "Yes. Mostly. Neither of us is the easiest person in the world to get along with, but we seem to cope. Why, what have you heard?" Scully didn't really want an answer to that. Had Mulder made some remark about her. Had he been asking about reassignment. What?

"And?" Scully was trying to keep the irritation out of her voice but it wasn't working. This was too serious.

"So. We aren't handcuffed together." Then it dawned on her, she suddenly realised why Carole was so cagey. "Carole, Are you telling me you saw Mulder out with a woman?"

Scully bit back her reaction and forced a smile of her own. "It's ok. He's my partner, nothing else."

Carole sighed with relief. "Sorry. That was dumb of me. I should have known you wouldn't get involved with someone you were working with. But well, with Jack. I guess I..."

Carole fidgeted nervously. "He used to prefer women who worked for the Bureau." She grinned. "Some combination of availability and the fact they didn't whine so much when he got called out during a date. I guess. But after you became his partner, he won't look at them. Friend of mine met him the other night in a bar, they were getting along fine, then he sees me and asks her if she works for the FBI. Changed completely, came over to my table with her, said hello, spent five minutes on office gossip and vanished. I admit it, I thought he'd either stopped playing the field or else he was being more discrete, I'd assumed you were the reason."

Scully shrugged, seemed like her no life partner had more of a life outside the office than she did. One night stands had never been her thing and her work left little scope for anything more. On those rare occasions when she'd found the energy and enthusiasm to try she'd found herself comparing her dates to Mulder. And to her profound disgust at her own response, none of them came out that well. Scully tried to think of something to say, "I didn't know Mulder knew you."

Carole blushed. "It's a few years ago now. Before you started working with him."

"What was I going to say. Yeah Dana, I know him. Good in bed. But gone to work before you get up in the morning."

Carole laughed and Scully giggled nervously. She couldn't resist asking at least one of the questions in her mind. "So what sort of women does he go for?"

"And the smart ones fall for his chat up routine in a singles bar?" This, Dana Scully didn't want to believe.

"Course they do. How many men have you had run away when they realised your IQ exceeded your bra size? And of the ones who didn't, how many can look like they stepped off the cover of a magazine." She grinned and nudged Dana. "Come on, you can't claim you haven't noticed, he cleans up well."

Scully squirmed. Yes, she'd noticed. Did she really want to know that her partner was not just spooky, a talented and eccentric investigator. He was also perfectly capable of keeping his private life private, even from her. She didn't know he had a private life. Damn it. Was she the only person in the world who didn't have a private life?

'Good in bed.' She didn't need to know that either. Dana 'no life' Scully, Dana 'in love with her partner' Scully, Dana 'too damned professional' Scully.

She'd felt those little touches, the brush against the shoulder, the hand on her back. God, she even remembered him brushing barbecue sauce away from her mouth. They were the times when he forgot, forgot the distance there had to be between them. She was careful to remind him. She was the one in love. And she was the one who had to keep the distance.

The case had been hard, too hard for both of them. She'd identified with the victim. She'd accused him of identifying with the killer, the accusation wasn't fair, he'd just done his job. They'd both come out of it intact. Another bruise to the psyche, another scare to the body. But that was a day or so ago. The adrenaline was fading now, the nervous energy that had let them come through unscathed was dying back. And they were winding down. Buzzing with tension and excitement, yet ready to relax.

Her brain swirled with too many thoughts, too many emotions. Ok in a crowd, professionalism overriding instincts. But now, the two of them alone, eating chicken and fries and trying to ignore the case that had pushed them to the edge, again. Now it was hard to ignore instinct. And tonight, one instinct was stronger in Dana Scully's brain than any other. She didn't want to be alone.

Neither wanted to make a move. Scully recognised his reluctance, he wouldn't go to bed until she gave him permission, until she said she was tired or something. It had always been the pattern. If he was worried about her, he would hover over her until someone else took over his duties or until she sent him away. But she didn't send him away, instead she said it. "I don't want to be alone."

It was all he needed. He offered to stay, curl up in her chair, watch TV. She shook her head, insisted that he needed rest as much as she did. As she said it, that really was all that she thought she meant. They could lie together, physical contact while they were asleep taking over from the empathy that had bound them together while they were awake. She was sure that was all she needed.

He hesitated, she smiled her reassurance. She went to the bathroom, changed into Pyjamas, handed him an oversize T-Shirt and slipped into bed. He hesitated, she smiled again, a soft sad smile. He emerged from the bathroom and slipped between the sheets and the comforter, careful not to invade her side of the bed.

She heard him sigh and move position. She pulled his arms over her. He took the hint, encased her with his body. Her back against his chest. Her hair against his face.

She didn't know when it started to change. From comforting contact to sensual warmth. From her partner to her favourite fantasy. From her friend to the man she was in love with. But it changed, for her and him. She felt the change in him, some bit of her brain felt a brief moment of triumph as she did. She relaxed, melted into his body. He tried to turn away. She didn't allow it.

It seemed like hours, it might only have been minutes, to someone else it might even have only been seconds. He turned away from her, she was the one who turned towards him again and closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his.

He was powerful, gentle. He read her, like a book. Interpreted her sighs, the ways the muscles flexed and tensed under his touch. Checked with lips and tongue and fingertips to make sure that he'd understood. And if he didn't understand, he asked.

My God. Was that allowed? Were men allowed to ask. Easy questions for sure. Higher/lower, slower/faster, better/worse? But questions, questions none the less. He'd even chuckled when she'd hesitated to answer. 'It's just research. On a case, I'd investigate every possibility, however extreme. But I like to do some research up front.'

She had lost the will to fight. Lost the desire to hold back anything of herself. Dr Scully, Special Agent Scully had lost the fight. Dana had jumped in, grabbed the man Special Agent Dana Scully had fallen in love with and taken him to bed. The Doctor and the Agent would not be pleased in the morning.

The Doctor knew that he was not ready for commitment. That he was not capable of the give and take of love. That he had given himself body and soul to a higher cause. That if she had him now, that was because he had nothing better to do, no more pressing engagement.

The Agent knew that pride and professionalism said that you don't get involved with your partner. Not if you're planning on working together in the morning.

But Dana, for once Dana had got her own way. The woman, the woman who wanted a man, the woman who wanted this man, had got her wish.

Dana pulled him closer, brushed her tongue against his ear until she was confident she had his attention. And as the shivers broke over her body again. She whispered the words, soft, distinct. "I love you." And she knew the words had struck her target, knew it from the way his body tensed, stretched and the sudden release of tension and sudden warmth.

She drifted awake. Confused for an instant by the warm body by her side. Then recollection, not a dream, the real thing. She stretched and leant back into the warmth. Felt him, felt him wanting her. Then felt him pull away. Then she heard it. She heard him say it. 'I'm sorry.'

She'd known that there were no such things as miracles. She'd known that she had no magic wand to wave. She'd proven herself to be just another conquest in his pursuit of intelligent females. A good looking man, not put off by smart women, ultimately a fatal combination. Had she really been that desperate that she'd wanted to join that list, volunteered to be another in the line. Apparently.

The ice swept down, surrounded her, trapped her. Locked her in place. Immobile. Frozen.

The case had been too hard. Had demanded too much of what made them, them. Dana Scully had been angry with him. No, not that. She'd been angry with the killer. Just frustrated with Mulder for getting in too deep. Annoyed at the way he could numb himself to the murders to watch the murderer in sharper focus.

As they came back down off the wave of tension they'd been riding he'd felt that familiar pull. He'd felt it before, so often before. He knew that all he had to do was ignore it and that it would go away, bury itself again. This wasn't the hard one to ignore. He was a trained psychologist. He knew that his reaction right now had as much to do with biochemistry as anything else. It was the other times, safe and well and happy, when his mind forgot and wandered into dangerous territory. That was the pull that he had to fight hard to ignore.

He scanned the darkened Bar Room. Wasn't sure why. Wasn't looking for anyone. Wouldn't be able to say what the formula was. The way they smiled, the way they stood, the way they looked at him. He didn't know, had no way to know until it happened.

He liked them to look intelligent but couldn't say how you could discern it. Liked the eyes to sparkle with questions. Liked the lips to look as if with the right amount of persuasion they'd lapse into a smile.

Another day, he might have been more analytical, more guilty. More sensitive to the accusation that he was just using someone. Another day. If today was another day, he wouldn't be here, craving company, craving someone's touch. Another day he'd just stay home and work and read and when he got tired and pathetic enough just watch a video. But tonight. He would make no promises, tell no lies, but he would find someone who needed contact the way he did.

He was careful, tried to keep away from the usual haunts of the Bureau Agents. The whole idea was not to be reminded of who he was, what he could do, what he did.

Sometimes he caught himself staring a little too long at short, pretty women with red hair. He never took them home. He hadn't sunk that low. If he was with someone, then that was where he was, with her. Not fantasising over someone else. For fantasy, he could do without company.

They sat in her room. They'd finished up the food, put the empty boxes outside in the trash. He wanted to know she was ok before he said goodnight. He shivered, he didn't want to say goodnight. He knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he should do. The trouble was they were two different things.

Then she asked him to stay. It was such a small thing she was asking. He wasn't a kid. He knew the difference between the need for comfort and the desire for sex. He could give her what she wanted. Some company on a lonely night.

Then, they were too close. Warm skin on skin. Her voice. Her voice that could make him tremble. Oh, God. Reacting to her. Almost inevitable, too many fantasies that started like this. Too much emotion from the case still looking for an outlet. Her body gently rocking against him. He pulled away.

Scully turned towards him. Ran her hand under his T Shirt to brush across his chest. Ran the back of one fingertip over his lips.

And he was lost. Lost to the smell of her skin as he explored her body. Lost to the sound of her voice as first her words and then her sighs reached his ears. Lost to the feathery stroke of her fingers over his face and through his hair as he tasted her.

The only thing that held him back was the number of times he'd played this scene out in fantasy. Nothing rushed, nothing clumsy. Slow, enjoying every minute of her attention, trying to make every minute count for her.

He'd fallen asleep wrapped around her body. He woke up only an hour or so later and understood what he'd done.

She didn't believe in casual sex. He knew little about her private life, but he knew that. Little comments she'd made on cases. He'd been careful not to admit his own weaknesses to her. What would she think about last night? She'd needed a friend and he'd taken advantage of her.

Casual sex? There was nothing casual about it as far as he was concerned. It was precious, every second, every stroke, every shiver, every sigh. He would never let it slip away from his memory.

But, it wasn't worth it. He'd betrayed her. She'd be angry that she'd let her professional guard slip, but she'd be furious with him for using her moment of weakness.

He had no way to explain it to her. No way to tell her it wasn't just some feverish rush of hormones. That it wasn't just a stupid mistake. It was something he'd wanted for a long time but would never have plucked up courage to do.

He had nothing to offer. < Hey Dana, how about spending your sleeping hours as well as your waking hours with someone obsessed with their job and with a mission to rescue someone who's probably dead and who they hardly remember? We could get married. As long as no one knows. And so long as we don't have kids, because they might become hostages. And so long as I don't get killed on some stupid wild goose chase. And I don't drag you into some even worse disaster and get you killed. Oh and if we're going to carry on working for the Bureau then we'd better live apart else they'll give us new partners. >

He lay awake and wondered if he should leave. Go out, run, get a shower. Try and look her in the eye in the morning over breakfast. But this was too hard to give up. The chance to hold her and hear her breathe for a while longer.

Soon she'd wake up. Then she'd hate him. And she'd probably tell him that she couldn't work with him anymore.

Part of his brain had heard the words, believed them, taken them literally. And it was wonderful, magical. He wanted to believe them, believe that they meant what he wanted them to mean. That she wanted him the way that he wanted her. That despite all the reasons why this could go nowhere. Despite the fact that they couldn't let it go further. That this was ok. This was enough. This would be alright for now.

But another part of his brain just laughed him down. Not love, just hormones and chemicals. Adrenaline plus relief plus sex, a heady brew. A mocking laugh in his ears. God knows, on other occasions, he'd said it himself without meaning it. Accident, nothing cynical or calculating, just the way he felt for an instant. The words had just slipped out, heat and passion. But meaning only that two bodies had found one another. Had triggered the right circuits. He'd known from his fantasies of Dana Scully of the danger of those words slipping out from his lips, he'd schooled himself to prevent them being said.

But it was the third view that was the cruellest. She was ready to fall in love. The biological clock ticking away inside her had reminded her of some primeval need. To love and be loved. To set up home. To raise a family. And she who deserved so much to be happy had made a stupid, impulsive mistake last night and he had taken advantage of her. She would be right to despise him, he despised himself.

Dawn came and went. He held her close. Felt her shiver as she started to awaken. He tensed as she stretched back against him. Skin against skin. He pulled away. "I'm sorry." He said quietly. He watched her as she picked up her clothes and headed to the bathroom.