Dark Night in Loserville, DC

Dark Night in Loserville, DC

A dark night in a dark bar. Of course, he'd played the game before. Many times. So why was he playing it now? Because a loser from Loserville had told him to. Because he'd heard the get a life barrage once too often and this time it had hit too close to home. It was funny and if only he could track down his sense of humour it would probably be hilarious.

There were reasons why he shouldn't do this. He'd worked through the reasons, not just worked through them tonight, not yesterday, worked through them months ago, years ago. Sorted them out, checked them for priority, weighed them up. So now he was going to forget the reasons? Why? Because some creep had told him to. Because some drugged, hospitalized, mutant, shape changing nobody had almost seduced his partner. Maybe.

How far would she have gone? A kiss. A grope. A smooch on the couch. A warm pair of lips pressed against hers, a tongue exploring her mouth. Finger tips trembling across her nipples. Hands stroking their way up her thighs, hunting happily optimistically expectantly in a search for warmth, for wetness, for life. More?

An image arrived in his brain, a snake entwined to devour itself. She'd said it was the story of her life. She hadn't said what that meant.

Get a life.

Yeah, well. If only he could pin it down, this life he was supposed to get. Forget your sister is still missing, forget you feel no closer to finding her now than you did when you were a kid. Pathetic in your optimism, pitiful in your failure. Forget that you still get those "why'd you run away?" looks from the people who'd watched you prove yourself to be too good at hunting regular, human monsters in ISU. Forget your partner is dying of a sickness created by the mysterious shadow people you are chasing without ever getting close to. Get a life.

Die in your arms tonight.

He could. Die in their arms tonight. Go on. Meet some beautiful, breathtaking woman and take her breath away. Metaphorically like in every no star, no name, no plot, no involvement, no responsibility, no emotion, no need to get involved, no need to worry about any of the people porno movie he'd ever seen. Or literally, like Kristan Killar, the not quite a vampire lady who'd died for him. Pathetic. They should tattoo a health warning on his forehead. He tried to forget. Get a life. Fuck it. It meant nothing, not to him. No life to get. So now it all narrowed down to what? To whether or not some woman he didn't know would let him screw them tonight.

Someone touched him gently on the shoulder. He responded to the warmth. Wow. Fever. Just how much desperately did he need that human contact, how bad had he been craving that touch, any touch? Enough to forget, ignore. Go on, respond, respond like nobody, like anybody. Pretend you're normal. Pretend what you see is what you get.

He turned and smiled. His bland, 'hi there, I'm nobody' smile faded on his lips as he looked at the woman stood by his side. "Wendy?"

"What's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?"

"Casing the joint, I'm a Fed, I'm arranging a raid. I hear they serve liquor here."

"Right. You're still a G Man then." She raised an eyebrow theatrically then added conspiratorially softly. "You do know that prohibition got repealed."

"Shit. No one said. Wanna celebrate?"

"Vodka."

"Plenty of ice, a very small quantity of orange juice?"

"You're good."

"So you always told me." He stopped talking, ran out of the steam required for bantering. "Sorry, Wendy. How are you doing? How come you're in DC."

"Fine. And a three day conference, thanks for asking. So. Do you come here often?"

"Every two years."

"Same here. You look... Sad."

He grimaced and an amused gasp escaped his lips. Good choice of words. "Say, Wend, you sure know how to make a man feel good."

"True. Don't tell me you'd forgotten that." She paused, studied him, reached out a hand to close over his. "What's wrong? You look... I don't know. I don't want to believe that your life could have become any more crap than it already was. But, you look."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't believe it."

"So don't bother telling me about the last two years. Just tell me, why are you here tonight?"

"Because a rapist told me that it was time I got a life."

Her eyes widened. "No?"

"Yep."

"Wow."

Mulder nodded his head in agreement. "Wow."

They sat and reviewed old times, new times, talked without responsibility, without yesterdays, without tomorrows. Talked about tonight. And why they found themselves in a quiet pick up place of a bar in a pleasantly, deceptively safe feeling part of Washington.

She slipped a hand over the top of her glass and shook her head as he offered another drink. He smiled politely, paid the tab, suggested they share a taxi. Her hotel first.

Her hotel only.

She led him from the cab and into the elevator.

"Wendy. You know I...."

"Spare me the speech. I went to that Bar looking for some company, some human contact, some warmth. I didn't expect to find it. Then, I saw you and was glad I'd picked that Bar. And now I want you. Not a husband, not commitment. You. Not forever, for tonight."

"But."

"But if I get what I want out of you tonight and I meet the man of my dreams tomorrow I'll be so befuddled by the memory of your prowess that I'll forget to drag him to the chapel?" She arched her eyebrows, grinned innocently.

He smirked shyly. "When you phrase it like that..."

"Don't you ever shut up?"

She slid a hand into his hair. He leant his head to chase the warmth of her fingers.

She moved closer, felt him twitch away from her, then she too pulled back. "Mulder? What's wrong?"

"I. I can't. I'm so fucked up I can't even handle this."

"This?" She paused to make sure she had his attention. "Oh, you mean, a one night stand."

He turned his head away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"Make it sound so trivial? Wendy Greene quietly reached out to the tall man in front of her. "Come on. Let's talk. You need someone real to talk to."

He smiled uncomfortably. Oh. If only she knew. Someone real to talk to. He shifted nervously. Nodded his head. Even though he had nothing to say. She led the way into her bedroom, quickly raiding the mini bar and handing him a beer. She made him lie down on the bed. She lay down next to him, close, without touching.

"So Dr Mulder, how long have been getting guidance on your sex life from a rapist?"

Mulder lifted his head, turned to lie on his side and looked into the soft brown eyes of Dr Wendy Greene, a good friend in graduate school. She'd married soon after getting her Doctorate. Her husband had accepted everything about her except her desire to keep in touch with an old lover and old friend. Mulder had understood, had politely kept away.

Her phone call telling him about the divorce had come five years ago. Two friends on a lonely night on a long distance phone line, they'd played those roles many times since. Occasional lovers since they'd first met. Wendy knew him, understood where he was coming from, how far he could go. No guilty feelings between them, they were always honest with one another. Especially since the night she'd told him that if she settled down with someone again it would more than likely be with a woman.

Mulder found himself smiling, he really couldn't imagine why. He picked up her hand and held it. "Well Dr Greene. It's a long story."

"We have all night. I'll waive my normal hourly fee. You're on the government payroll. I'll do this for the good of my country."

Mulder shrugged politely and started to explain the whole sorry story.

At the end of it, Wendy sat up and stared at him in awestruck silence.

Mulder closed his eyes and mumbled. "Look, help me out here. I'm not looking for directions and the magic formula but an acknowledgment that you've heard might be nice. I'm feeling a little self conscious."

"Shall I call 911, or will you?"

He sighed. "Gee. Thanks."

"That's just such a great story. I'm surprised you are still functioning."

"Who says I am?"

She reached out and rested a hand on his knee. "You're scared aren't you?"

"Good to see you can still justify your exorbitant professional fees."

"If you hadn't arrived at Dana's when you did, what do you think would have happened?"

Ah, good question. Shame he didn't have a good answer. "Don't know. And Dana won't tell me."

"You've asked?"

"No. I've got my mind reading act off so good I don't need to talk to her. Of course I asked."

"She's too embarrassed to say?"

"She's already told me if I ask again she'll request a transfer."

"But she wouldn't. Would she?"

Mulder shook his head. Some answers were only obvious when you said them out loud. "No. She wouldn't. But she can make the room go very cold if I don't stick to the rules."

"But, she didn't stick to the rules with Eddie."

"I know."

Wendy's voice was soft and sweet. "Why?"

Ah, Mulder knew the answer to that one. "Because I'm a loser."

"But so's Eddie."

"And that should make me feel better?"

Wendy sat in silence for a few seconds. Then gradually a faint smile formed on her lips. The smile got bigger, then it turned into a grin, then she started to laugh. She tried to stop herself but just ended up almost choking herself before breaking into another round of laughter.

Mulder shook his head. "Don't tell me this is a new therapeutic approach and you laugh uncontrollably at all your patients."

She reached out to rest a hand on his leg. "Only the ones who make me drink vodka."

Then he realized that he was starting to get infected by her giggles. Bad news.

She grabbed him, put her arms around him, pulled him close. Rocking with laughter, holding one another through a dark night.

He could see the light of morning through the opening in the blinds. He slithered out from below the covers, carefully moving the arm that she had draped over him.

She smiled as he returned from the bathroom, fluttered her eyelashes carefully at him. "So. Last night. Was it good for you?"

"You've always been good for me."

"And what are you going to do about Scully?"

He smiled innocently. "Send her round for a consultation?"

"Ooh, you trust me with her?"

His voice contained just the barest hint of a wistful sigh. "I trust her with anyone."

"Except you?"

"Except me."

He stretched, pulled his jacket on. "I've got to go home and get changed for work." He leant over her, kissed her lightly on the forehead. "It was nice seeing you, again. We'll talk. Thanks."

"See you in another couple of years. Take care."

"And you."

(What a strange story. What do you reckon happened after the lights went out?)