Hole in the Black
by PD

ARCHIVAL:  Gossamer, no thanks. Stories will be housed at 
my site only. If you'd like to link, I'd love it, but 
please drop me note with a heads up.

DISCLAIMER:  Can I borrow the keys to the franchise, Chris? 
I won't go to any FBI balls, I promise to make a full stop 
at most clichés‚ and I will try not to dangle my 
participles at the nice couple in the unremarkable house.

CLASSIFICATION: SRA, MSR, IWTB, TMI, ASAP

RATING:  R

SPOILERS:  Through The X Files: I Want To Believe

SUMMARY:  "I wasn't in the group, Mr. Mulder. I was a 
tangential part of the project - in league with those few 
who were adamant on the subject of developing an antidote 
and a vaccine. He was our man on the inside, but we were 
not on the side of complicity with the colonists and that 
meant we were on the outside. Fringe element. We were not 
highly regarded. We weren't even invited to the group 
barbecues." He caught himself and smiled. "Ah. No pun 
intended."


~ Chapter 2 ~
 
Sometime after six, she'd fallen asleep again, and when she 
woke, she realized she'd slept longer than she'd intended. 
Fortunately, she'd phoned the hospital the night before and 
told them she'd be in late morning. If there was anything 
slightly critical, she was to be called.

She tumbled out of their bed and into the bathroom to use 
the toilet and splash her face. At the sink, she stared 
into her sleepy blue eyes in the mirror, blinked at her 
reflection.

"Not talking today?" Her reflection blinked back at her, 
silent.

Mulder was sitting at the breakfast table, drinking coffee 
and reading the paper, his long toes curled around the 
horizontal rung of his chair, right leg bouncing up and 
down. He looked up as she walked in.

"Don't I know you?"

She offered him a blank look and headed for the coffee, not 
quite ready for Mulder's maddening morning semi-wit.

Cup full, she joined him at the table. After a sip and a 
sigh of relief at the caffeine trickling into her system, 
she touched his hand, grasped two of his fingers. It was a 
question. Mulder pulled her grasping fingers to his lips 
and kissed them. She smiled at his answer and sipped her 
coffee, brushing his fingers back and forth with her own. 
About three quarters of the way through the brew, her 
cognitive abilities began to kick in again.

"I'll tell you what I'd really like to do," Scully said, 
picking up the threads of a conversation they'd started 
last week. "Mulder."

Mulder looked up from the paper, "Yeah."

"The house, Mulder."

"Move?"

"No. I like it out here. It's quiet and - no."

"Tear it down and start over?"

"I don't think we need to be that extreme," she said. "I 
was thinking more in terms of a paint job and a little 
landscaping. We wanted the house to fly under the radar 
with us all this time, but since we don't have to 
anymore..."

Mulder nodded, contemplating the idea. "You know I'm not 
much of a gardener, Scully."

"That's okay," she said, giving his fingers a squeeze and 
getting up for more coffee. "Just lend me a little muscle."

Mulder smirked to himself, but eschewed the suggestive 
retort. She wasn't awake enough to fully appreciate it. 
"'kay."

She sat back down next to him. In a fluid move, she slipped 
her fingers through his hair from his temple to the base of 
his skull and pulled his mouth down to hers for a thorough 
kiss which didn't so much stop as it did change locations 
as their lips slowly released - cheek to cheek, temple to 
temple, forehead to forehead. They sighed and Scully 
scratched her fingers against Mulder's scalp. 

"White?" he asked.

"Green trim," she said and pulled her fingers from his 
hair. "Nothing too fancy with the landscaping. Cozy and 
green and peaceful. A little less..."

"Unremarkable?"

She smiled and patted his hand. "Scruffy," she said. 

"The house must match the face?"

"I never said you looked scruffy," she said as her 
BlackBerry chirped from the bedroom. She rose and moved 
quickly up the stairs to answer it. 

Mulder heard Scully's voice, a muffled, one-sided 
conversation through the walls. He heard her footfalls on 
the stairs and after a moment of silence, she walked back 
into the kitchen, phone to her ear. "Mm hm," she said and 
made eye contact with Mulder. "Both of us?"

To Mulder, Scully looked concerned. He mentally packed a 
bag of essentials and mapped the fastest route out of town.

"Yes, all right," she said into the phone. At this, she 
sounded less concerned and more irritated. Irritated was 
good. An irritated Scully was a -

"To expunge your record completely," she said immediately 
as she disconnected the call, "they need to talk briefly 
about the facts with you in order to get it on an official 
record. Since there was no official record."

"Well, fuck," he said impassively.

"Mulder, this is not what you think it is." She sat next to 
him. "His - and I mean Assistant Director Clarke's - 
assistant said they wanted to assure both of us that this 
was just an information gathering meeting. She said it 
would be one or two people, a few questions, and your words 
as to what happened. Mulder, apparently, the same year we 
took off, all but 1 of the 30 or so witnesses to Knowle 
Rohrer's death recanted their story and said that his fall 
was the result of your own self-defense. Why we were never 
located and contacted about it is a result of red tape and 
inefficiency. Why it was never mentioned when they called 
you in on the missing agent case in January is a result of 
deliberate, calculative manipulation: they wanted your help 
and they thought they could seize the opportunity to offer 
you a clean slate."

"But it was clean already," Mulder said.

Scully nodded. "Apparently, your expertise and 
consultations with NCAVC have not gone unnoticed. And they 
don't want a bitter man who believes he's a criminal in 
their eyes. They want Fox Mulder."

Mulder half smiled and Scully joined him.

"Your words or theirs?" 

"Some are mine. The sentiment is theirs." 

Mulder leaned toward her and kissed her, his hand lightly 
on her cheek. "So, when do we go in for this meeting? I'm 
assuming they want you, too."

She nodded, and got up to go to the refrigerator. "This 
afternoon, if we can. She said to call and arrange a more 
convenient time if necessary, but we might as well get it 
over with."

"Do you think they'll give me a fruit basket or something?"

Scully tossed a smirk over her shoulder and withdrew from 
the refrigerator with eggs and a carton of milk. 

"Are you cooking?" he wondered, amazed. She was slicing 
bread, gathering spices and using utensils commonly 
associated with food preparation. 

"I think a celebratory breakfast is in order," she said.

Mulder sat back in his chair and smiled. "Scully if you 
make me French toast, I will have to fuck you right here on 
this breakfast table."

Scully's hands stilled. As she looked over her shoulder at 
him, mouth agape in a shocked smile, a blush crept from her 
chest to her face. 

"Okay," he said, "clearly, that came out of my mouth 
without any help from my brain."

Scully closed her mouth, regained her composure and turned 
back to the task of beating eggs, sugar, milk and spices. 
"I have no problem with the act itself." She turned on the 
stove. "I'm just concerned about the stability of the 
table." 

Mulder smiled and noted that the blush coloring her cheeks 
and neck was spreading to her ears as she artfully tucked a 
few strands of hair behind one of them. 

"I'll buy us a new one," he said. "I'm gainfully employed 
now, you know."

"That in itself is a turn on, Mulder."

He stood up and moved behind her, wrapped his arms around 
her, began a merciless assault - his lips to her right ear. 
She sighed and leaned back into him. "Mulder," she 
breathed. "You don't catch me cooking for you very often. 
You sure you want to preempt it like this?"

"Absolutely."

Scully had an egg in one hand and the nutmeg in the other. 
"Maybe we should wait until after breakfast," she said.

"Scully?"

"Hm?"

Mulder reached around her, took the egg and nutmeg out of 
her hands and turned her around to face him. He leaned in 
and kissed her, took her hand and led her out of the 
kitchen.

"I can't guarantee French toast after this, Mulder," she 
said as they disappeared up the stairs.