TITLE: Unresolved II: Resistible
AUTHOR: bellefleur
EMAIL ADDRESS: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: sure
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR, A
SPOILER WARNING: Orison
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc.
SUMMARY: The blessings and frustrations of a platonic 
relationship; or, between the scenes glimpses from season 
seven.

* * * * * 

It was nearly dawn when the two weary agents made their way 
past police vehicles and curious onlookers toward Mulder's car 
to put this scene behind them.  He didn't bother to inquire of 
their destination but headed straight for his own apartment.  

The drive was a quiet one.  Scully kept her gaze fixed on the 
passenger window.  Thinking it best to give her some time, 
Mulder didn't try to start a conversation.  But he needed a 
distraction from the silence.  He turned on the radio and 
settled on a classical station, which seemed a neutral option-
-he didn't want to risk hearing that song aggain.

The lack of conversation left only his own thoughts to fill 
the void.  Tonight had been a nightmare, one too close to past 
realities that he had no desire to relive.  He had arrived in 
time when it was Eugene Tooms.  He had been too late when it 
was Duane Barry.  This time, he had been cutting it close, and 
the guilt was starting to gnaw at him.  Why had he been so 
quick to dismiss the signs that his partner had shared with 
him?  Why had he been so slow to realize how much it had taken 
for her to tell him about these, especially when he had become 
angry with her in the past when she didn't?

The silence continued as they rode the elevator to his 
apartment and Mulder ushered her through his door.  In the 
foyer, he stood and watched while she shed her overcoat and 
hung it neatly on his coat rack.  Only then did he realize she 
was still wearing her pajamas.  

Still not meeting his attentive eyes, she slowly walked toward 
his bedroom.  He trailed behind her with her bag in his hand.  
Arriving at the bed, she finally looked back at him in 
question.  They had established a usual routine for these 
sleepovers, and he knew she was inquiring if they were 
following the same protocol as before.  He wanted tonight to 
be different, but he had to respect her space.  In agreement, 
he set her bag on the floor just inside the room and 
retreated, pulling the door shut behind him.

* * *

When Scully first lay down in the bed, she had no expectation 
of falling asleep.  Her thoughts were still reeling about what 
had unfolded that night.  There were too many questions that 
plagued her:  Why had she done it?  What did that say about 
her?  Would there be consequences?  And what did her partner 
think of her?

She knew Mulder would back her up, even lie for her if he felt 
it necessary, but that wasn't what concerned her.  That look 
on his face when he realized what she had done was one of 
shock and perhaps horror.  She often felt that he held her in 
higher esteem than she deserved when it came to propriety and 
integrity.  In spite of his subtle protests, she always 
struggled to shield him from her vulnerabilities.  Would it 
devastate him to learn firsthand that she was made not of 
steel but of clay?  Even worse, had she lost his respect?

But the questions led to emotional exhaustion, and sleep 
overtook her unaware.  

When she awoke sometime later, it was to daylight and the 
consciousness of a presence in the room.  She sharply inhaled 
and froze in her position, facing away from the door, as her 
thoughts immediately went to Pfaster.  But rationality 
prevailed, reminding her it couldn't be him and that the soft 
breathing behind her more likely belonged to her partner.

Slowly, she turned over onto her back.  Mulder was lying on 
his side facing her, his eyes closed in sleep and his hand 
extended toward her.  She was surprised to find him here 
rather than on the couch, although his presence was not 
unwelcome.  It was perhaps a gesture of goodwill that brought 
him in here, which alleviated some of her concerns of the 
night before.  The palpable silence between them was now 
melting with his proximity.

Scully turned on her side to face him, careful not to brush up 
against the hand lying between them on the bed.  She began to 
study him in his sleep.  There was an innocence about him like 
this, and she felt a maternal urge to gather him to her breast 
and rock him in her arms.  But they didn't have a relationship 
that would allow her to indulge such urges.  Still, she just 
had to touch him....

Trying her best not to wake him, she reached over and 
delicately stroked her fingertips down the side of his face.  
But the sensation was apparently enough to wake him, and she 
found herself staring into the soothing gray of his eyes.

"Hey."

She looked away, suddenly shy.  "Hi."  She wanted to pull away 
the adventurous hand, but his own had moved up to settle on 
her outstretched arm.  A shiver ran down her spine as he 
softly swept down her arm to her wrist and covered her hand 
with his own, holding it to his cheek.  He pulled her palm 
away and graced it with a kiss before releasing it.

She was grateful that he spoke next, because she couldn't find 
her voice.

"We both have the day off--Skinner insisted on it--so you can 
rest as long as you need to."

"Okay."  She was glad to have found her speech, but it was no 
more than a hoarse whisper.  

After his release of her hand, she had let gravity carry it 
down to the mattress between them, in mirror of his sleeping 
pose.  His hand now returned to hers and began to stroke the 
back of it absentmindedly.

"I'm sorry, Scully."

Her eyes left their hands and shot up to his gaze, which 
remained fixed on the motions of his thumb.  "For what?"

"For not listening to you about the warning signs.  For not 
getting there sooner."

She should have known that his thoughts hadn't been focused on 
her actions but on his.  Slipping her hand out from beneath 
his, she then covered it with a firm grasp to get his 
attention.

"You got there just in time.  Even if you hadn't, I was able 
to break free.  Between the two of us, nothing was going to 
happen to me.  I'm okay."

She was taken by surprise as his arms abruptly reached for 
her, and she found herself gathered in his fierce embrace, her 
face buried in his chest.  As the shock wore off, she relaxed 
into his arms and snaked her arms around his torso.  Only now 
did they let themselves acknowledge how much they had almost 
lost.

Scully felt his breath pass warmly by her ear as he sighed 
deeply.  "None of this would've happened if I hadn't dragged 
you out to Minnesota on this case in the first place, even 
though I knew it wasn't an X-File.  I can't even remember why 
I was interested in it."

"The Redskins game," she mumbled into his chest.

He pulled back slightly to look down at her.  "What?"

She looked back up at him, although neither released the 
embrace.  "The Redskins were playing the Vikings.  You got us 
tickets to the game, but we never made it because of the case.  
It's no wonder that Accounting is always calling into question 
our travel expenses." 

He smiled slightly at her jab.  "I can't believe you remember 
that.  I guess I owe you a football game, don't I?"

She wrinkled her nose in protest.  "Maybe you can find some 
other way to make it up to me."

She hadn't meant that as an invitation to a kiss, but she 
didn't pull away when his lips gently covered hers.  The brief 
touch was no more passionate than their encounter on New 
Year's, but there was an unmistakable hunger behind it.  
Scully suddenly understood why she had found him next to her 
in the bed.  This close call had affected him very profoundly, 
and he needed to touch her, to connect with her, to prove to 
himself that she was very much alive.  But she was more 
astonished by how much she needed this connection as well, 
although perhaps more as an acknowledgment that he had not 
rejected her for her actions.

It wasn't clear which of them initiated the second kiss, but 
by mutual participation it quickly turned into something more 
than their previous exchanges.  Lips soon parted, and tongues 
tangled in greeting--and hands did not remain idle.  

Eventually Scully came back to herself to recognize the weight 
of her partner now fully bearing down on her and pressing her 
into the mattress.  As much as she was enjoying the 
experience, alarm bells began to sound in her head.  She 
placed her hands on his chest to gently push him away.

It took him a moment, but it soon sank in that she had stopped 
participating, and he pulled back.

"Mulder, we can't--we shouldn't....  This isn't the right 
time."

She could only hope that he would understand her meaning.  She 
feared the desperation and need that were driving them, and 
the regrets these could lead to.  They couldn't take that 
gamble.

Without a word, Mulder rolled off her and sighed.  He settled 
on his back with an arm thrown over his face, breathing deeply 
to regain his composure.  Before he left the bed, he dropped a 
brief kiss to her cheek, reassuring her that he didn't take 
her gesture as a rejection.  But she also understood his need 
to leave the room.

At the door, he turned to her, although his eyes didn't quite 
make it to her face.  "Why don't you get some more sleep?  
I'll be right out here when you get up."  The door shut softly 
behind him, leaving her alone in the stark morning light.

* * * * *
* * * * * 

End part II.

Send feedback to: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com