Eight Bells
by Christine Leigh

Summary: Season seven.  Occurs during "all things."
Rating: R (mild)
Category: MSR, V
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: All characters are the products of Chris Carter. They
also belong to Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Network. No
copyright infringement intended. 
Archiving: If you would like to archive anywhere, I'd  appreciate a
quick note first. 
Email: Feedback is always welcome, leighchristine@hotmail.com


Dedicated to Sallie.   
                                        

1:00 a.m.

So, the spy was beautiful.  Mulder hadn't entertained
that possibility, or any other for that matter on that day
nearly seven years past.  Procuring female companionship
when he wanted it was not a problem.  Her picture had been
ordinary, or somber if he were going to be honest, but the
woman who stood before him that day had a smile that
transformed her. She wasn't his usual type, so while it wasn't
like the first time he'd met Diana, it had occurred to him after
the first words were out of Dr. Scully's mouth that he could at
least have some *fun* with the spy for a couple of days if he
wanted to. He remembers thinking that perhaps he should pull
back on the speech he'd prepared, and chase her out the door
slowly instead of at the record pace he'd envisioned.  However,
after a quick second thought, he'd stuck to his plan and barreled
on through his speech.  Then despite his stellar effort, none
of what he'd planned had happened.  All things had changed
for him on that long ago day, and he will continue to be
amazed until he goes to his grave that she stayed.

Now, as Mulder stares at her face against the cushions of
his couch, all he can think of is that the woman he loves will
be sleeping on the other side of his bedroom wall, and while
he would rather have her in his bed, he is happy over this
fact. They've slept in each other's presence so many times,
but tonight is different.  After years of skittering around it,
as though it were an unexpected guest for whom there may or
may not be a room, a promise had arrived.  It was dark outside,
but there in his living room it was dawn, as they acknowledged
the truth about them.  Typically, no words had been spoken,
but the choice had been made, undeniably, and Mulder knows
that if Scully hadn't fallen asleep that they might have moved
on to that long overdue conversation. His heart goes there for
the moment, as he gently pulls the blanket a little higher to
cover her shoulders.  He knows better than anyone how strong
she is, but right now as he's covering her, her small frame
appears so delicate. His emotions are high, as he gets his tired
body up from the couch.  He can see it, though, the two of
them together, clear as day.  He's seen it so many times, but
tonight it's the real thing.  Their time is near.

*****

For a split second, even though Scully had been
three-quarters of the way to slumber as she sat next to Mulder
unspooling her story, she had tried to imagine her life that
could have been, and immediately felt ill.  She had experienced
so many feelings during this day, but the one that resonated the
most was how at home her heart felt as she sat next to Mulder
and told him her tale.  After a lifetime of standing outside a
world where people loved and lived together, and pretending
that it didn't matter that she hadn't managed to find that,
she's through.  She has arrived at the threshold of the remainder
of her life, and that is a wonderful and powerful thing to
ponder.

She had entered the Buddhist temple on a whim, mostly. 
Her emotions had been so stirred during the past few days, and
she was feeling drained when she saw the door that led to
the temple's courtyard.  She really just wanted a place to rest. 
As she knelt and prayed, she had seen a panorama of her life
fly by, and for a few minutes had felt overwhelmed.  Then it
had happened.  One image took on clarity and it was as though
she were in a time machine that transported her back to that
awful, wonderful day that Penny Northern had died.  Awful,
because despite all the brave talk she'd given Mulder, until
she'd felt his arms around her, she wasn't sure that she had the
strength to fight the cancer.  Wonderful, because that was the
moment, the one that had been brought back to her so clearly
on this day.  She had known then just how much she loved him,
and remembered thinking so desperately at the time that
God wouldn't let her discover that and then take her from this
life. The will to continue hadn't been borne of her prayers, but
of Mulder's arms as he held her, and touched gentle lips to
her forehead.  *Let me stay here forever* she had thought as
the scent of warm leather enveloped her.  Then she'd left.  It
was too good, and she was superstitious.  If she'd stayed longer
in his arms, she wouldn't live to experience them again.

She left the temple feeling more than she ever had before. More
life, more truth, and more love.  She'd loved Mulder for so
long, and now could think only of telling him this and
of making love to him.  If heart sounds could be heard,
the people she passed as she walked back to her car would
have been treated to the most beautiful music.

*****

The rain had awakened Mulder, or so he thought.  He had been
dozing over his book, but then heard the rat-tat-a-tatting on the
bedroom window and become alert.  How long had it been
since he'd left Scully on the couch?  He'd been tired to the
bone, but if she hadn't nodded off, he believes that his couch
would have experienced the surprise of its life.  They had come
so close, and even in his too-traveled state, he'd been thrilled as
he'd listened patiently to the story of her epiphany.  After she'd
fallen asleep, he'd looked at her, and he felt as though it was the
first time he'd seen her, except that this time he knew without
any doubt that his love for her had been returned.  The only
declaration he'd had was the sound of  her voice wrapping
around the words, 'what if there was only  one choice?' but that
had told him everything.  He'd lingered  for a few more minutes
and then forced himself to leave her  side and go grab a quick
shower before getting into bed.  He  tried to read a sentence or
two before starting to fall asleep, but  found that all he could do
was listen.  Until the rain started, he  could hear her breathe
every so often, and it was the most  comforting sound.

Now, he steps as quietly as he can on the wood floors
and returns to the living room.  She is still out.  He doesn't want
to wake her, so he moves to crouch down on the floor
from which vantage point he is almost eye level with her
face. *Scully, do you know how happy I am tonight?  Do you
know why?  Wake up, Scully.*  He smiles at her.  Scully will
appear forever 19 when in repose.  Mulder had seen her sleep
under  many different and often bizarre circumstances, and
the one commonality they all had was that Scully became a
girl again when she slept.  He loves that about her.  He runs
his fingers lightly over the blanket that covers her.  Then he
gets up and returns to his bedroom.

*****

The last thing Scully had planned to do was fall asleep
but there had been no fighting it.  Now, through the haze of
trying to wake up, she sees Mulder looking at her like he never
quite has before, except for the one time.  She wants to
say something, but her mouth won't move.  Is he really gazing
at her this way?  Or maybe she'd been dreaming of the
hallway on that long past day.  It must be a dream.  She is
trying so hard to say something, but is mute.  She wants to
move to touch him on the face or arm, but her body is weighted
the way it always seems to be when a dream is either too good
or very bad.  She turns her head then, and her eyes pop
open. She looks around.  The aquarium gives off an emerald
glow in the dark room, and she can hear rain.  Where has he
gone?

A glance at her watch tells her it has been nearly two
hours since she'd finished her story, so Mulder must have gone
to bed, obviously.  She needs to see him, but is feeling
somewhat at sea over what to do next.  Dare she disturb him? 
She gets up and walks to his bedroom door, which he has left
open a couple of inches.  With one finger she opens it further
and enters.  He is resting on his left side, his face to her, as
she stands there taking it all in.  Mulder's bedroom is an x-file,
no doubt, but now all she notices is his face.  Even from
the distance of a few feet and in the semi-darkness she
is captivated by the beauty of his face, and in particular
the silhouette of his eyelashes against his skin.  He is
sleeping soundly and quietly.  Mulder has always been the
better traveler of the two of them, but apparently he must
have finally given in to the effects of his whirlwind trip back
and forth across the Atlantic.  She wants nothing more than to
go kiss him awake, but can't bring herself to interrupt his
peace. She finally moves, walking around to the other side of
the bed. She isn't sure why she is doing this, but she just can't
leave. Besides, from this angle she can see his back.  Mulder
has the body of a movie star from the 30s or 40s with his
broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs in just the
right proportions.  That had been quite the surprise upon
meeting him all those years ago.  The last thing in the world
that had occurred to her was that Spooky Mulder would turn
out to be a Cary Grant for the 90s.  She sits down very carefully
on the empty side of the bed, not using all her weight, and
extends her hand to graze his hair gently.  Silk, still.  How she
loves to touch it.  Then, not wanting to, but doing so anyway,
she returns  to the living room and her place on the couch. 
Perhaps in another  hour she keeps thinking as she drifts back
to sleep.

*****

It was freezing on the newly created perimeter and the
snow Mulder had thought beautiful as he'd witnessed the
spaceship rising from the crater is suddenly eery.  They will die
here if they can't keep moving.  That can't happen, not after all
he'd surmounted to find Scully and then administer the
vaccine. He'd been out of his mind with fear in the hallway
when this had all started, and the fact that this is, by
comparison, a saner moment, is an extremely small comfort. 
Sane or crazy, it doesn't matter; there's a life he wants to try
living for a change,  so they have to keep moving.  She'd kissed
his temple while holding him, and a little dart of warmth had
gone through his body.  If only it were enough.  She's alive, but
that's only the first step.  They need help, and fast, or they will
die.

*****

Enough.  Scully has waited long enough.  She gets up and folds
the blanket and places it over the arm of the couch closest to
the aquarium.  She then walks to the bedroom and stands
staring, as she had done earlier.  Had Mulder sensed
her presence, she wonders?  Or even seen her, as she could
have sworn she'd seen him, looking at her as she slid in and out
of sleep on the couch?  No, she guesses, as she watches him. 
He is still out, and soundly.  She must have been dreaming.

She walks to the bathroom and looks at herself in the
mirror. Had it really been today, well yesterday, now, that she'd
said good-bye to Daniel?  It seemed a thousand years ago. 
She'd felt sad, relieved, and at peace.  One thing is for
certain, though, the good-bye had been the most satisfying
thing she has experienced in a long time.  Her eyes are bright in
the reflection.  Could be better, she thinks, as she looks at her
face and hair, but could also be worse.  And really, she
doesn't care.  Well, not much.  Then she closes the door just
enough so that if Mulder does wake up, he won't see her.  It
isn't a matter of modesty, but of  timing.  She wants him to
awaken to the feel of her next to him.  She wants him to know
that this is her choice, and that she has come to him no longer
afraid. He's had parts of her on occasion over their years
together, but tonight he gets the complete package --  heart,
body, mind, and soul.  She undresses, removing all her clothes,
and returns to the bedroom.  Then, as if she has been doing this
for years, she gets into Mulder's bed and lies down next to him.

*****

They will die, this is all that is going through Mulder's mind
as he tries to roll over and out of her arms, but he hits
something. What the hell?  Her arms.  And her legs.  He moves
closer and now he feels the length of her body against his.  The
snow is gone.  He needs to look away, and then back to make
certain this is real, but his position in the bed won't allow for
that. Instead, he shakes his head like a person trying to stay
awake at the wheel, and then blinks his eyes wide open.  Two
big, blue eyes blink back at him.  He'd been dreaming
of Antarctica, and her arms that had held him tight, and
then awakened to roll into her arms, no longer enclosed in
his jacket.  None of her is enclosed, actually, and the silky
warmth of her skin is the most incredible sensation he's
ever experienced.  "Scully," he says, but then stops speaking as
a small hand is placed over his heart.  "Mulder," she says
softly back, "it's me."

*****

In what seems a lifetime ago, Mulder had sex with
countless women and made love to two.  Never before, though,
has he wanted to experience a woman the way that he does
Scully.  In so many ways he'd made love to her before tonight,
with tonight being the icing on the most delectable cake.  He
is reliving the moment that has just passed; the shock
and wonder of waking to find her next to him.  After
he remembers to breathe, he lowers his mouth to hers and
kisses her as gently as he had on New Year's Eve.  She returned
the kiss by probing his lips with her tongue, and the taste and
feel of her as their mouths join provide a near-religious
experience for him.  This, he believes in.  Oh, yes.  When they
break from the kiss they do nothing but look at one another,
head-to-head on the pillows, not moving, but yet thrilling to
what will happen next.  When he feels her hand move beneath
the waistband of his pajama bottoms he knows that some
version of heaven can't be too far away.  Then he hears her
voice.

"Mulder, I think you should take these off."  This is
Scully, lying in his bed, naked, asking him to get naked, too.  In
his bed.  Is he repeating himself?  These facts would be on
an endless loop that ran through his brain for some time to
come. He gets up and quickly removes the garment.  When he
turns to face her, she is smiling (grinning?) and that
somehow brings a note of normality back to the room.

"All good then, Scully?"

She nods, and then gets out of bed and stands before him. He's
seen her nude before, but not like this.  He knows she has a
love-hate relationship with her complexion because of the way
it betrays her emotions, but Mulder has never seen anything
more lovely than her body as it appears before him now, lighted
only by what has escaped the bathroom.  It is the palest pink
satin interspersed with dots of freckles, a delicious blush upon
her breasts, and a splash of auburn between her thighs.  He
wishes he were an artist so that he could paint her portrait. 
First things first, however.  He opens his arms, and she walks
into them.

*****

This isn't awkward.  The thought that it might have
been, almost makes Scully laugh since she can't remember the
last time she has felt so sure of something.  Mulder's body in
its full, non-medical emergency state as he stands there next
to the bed, arms beckoning her, is the most beautiful thing in
this world.  After she has gone to him, and is in the arms that
have held her so many times, every one of those times a step
that has led to tonight, she has a second epiphany.  This is the
only religion that she would ever need.  As long as she has this,
she knows she can survive anything.  She is ready to
acknowledge that.  As she glories in the softness and hardness
of his flesh against hers, she is more alive than she has ever
been.  It is the ultimate rush.  Minutes pass, and then she feels
his hand on the territory of her back he'd claimed so long ago,
gently guiding her back to the bed.

They don't speak.  Her head now rests on his pillow and
she can feel the warmth his body had left there. She remembers
all the times she's imagined this happening and wonders if
she will ever be able to leave his bed.  She thinks of all the
times she's surreptitiously watched his mouth engaged in eating
a meal or snacking on his seeds, as she feels her body
reacting to the touch of his mouth now.  No man has ever done
this to her in such a way.  All the lovemaking she'd experienced
prior to tonight had been small and contained, she is in the
process of discovering.  What is happening now knows no
boundaries. She's lived in Japan and been to Antarctica, but has
never  traveled so far as she does tonight.  Soon, all coherent
thought  is gone from her head.  He is over her, and then he is
inside her,  and *exquisite* is the word she will call this
moment later, after  she has returned to earth.  She has not seen
any of it  so far, as  her eyes have remained closed.  Then, as
she starts to come, she  opens them and looks at him for just a
second.  The look he gives  her back is all it takes, and her
orgasm crashes like a tidal wave.

*****

The taste of her mouth had been delicious, but Mulder has no
word to describe the taste he is experiencing now.  *Scully* is
all that keeps going through whatever part of his brain that is
still functioning, and the flavor would remain so designated. 
He's never come near to feeling like this when making love
before, and he knows that he never will again; this kind of
experience can only happen once, and tonight he is among the
blessed. There will be a lifetime more of nights and days, but
none will be as precious as this is.  As he moves his mouth
upward he can sense that she is near.  Soon, he positions
himself over her, and  he wants nothing more than to watch her
face, but he has closed  his eyes.  The feeling of her beneath
him is almost too much  sensation and he needs to pace
himself.  He listens to her breathe  for a few seconds, and then
starts to enter her.  Her legs encircle  his waist in a grip that is
both fierce and tender, and he has the  happiest homecoming as
he feels her receive him. He feels her on the edge, and now he
braves his heart and opens his eyes for a second to look at her. 
His reward is worth it.  As he follows her, he thinks that he is
no longer temporary in this thing that he's called his life.  He
wants to stay.


5:00 a.m.

Scully is as content as a kitten as she snuggles next to
Mulder. She smiles at that thought, remembering his invitation
when they'd been in San Diego last year on the Falls at Arcadia
case. She'd wanted to get in that bed, but she hadn't yet known
how. Now she has the opposite problem -- she doesn't want to
get out of this bed, but she knows she must.  They are due to
a meeting that starts at 8:00 a.m. sharp, and she has no
fresh clothes of her own here.  Perhaps that will change
sometime soon, she thinks.  She hopes.  He's sleeping
peacefully again, so much so, that when she looks at him she
almost could believe that nothing of significance had happened
during the past hours.  Her body knows differently, though, and
so does her heart.  She has never felt so *right* as she does at
the present.  She leans a little closer to Mulder and very
gently kisses his shoulder.  Then she gets out of bed and
looks around for something to write on, and finally sees a
legal notepad in the room's clutter.  She takes it with her to
the bathroom where she quickly retrieves her clothes and
puts them back on.  The note she writes is short, but it says
what she is feeling.

Mulder,

I had to go.  When you see me next, I'll be the happiest baby cat
in the room.  I love you so.

Scully


- end  -


Note: The title of the story refers to the bells that are struck
on Navy ships to designate the hours of being on watch. 
Each watch is four hours and one bell is struck at each
half-hour interval, therefore, four hours is equal to eight bells.