An Unremarkable Life
by kilted

Rated: Adult for sexual content.
Summary: Scully's thoughts and memories when revisiting the
unremarkable house.
Disclaimer: Recognised characters and premises of an
unremarkable nature are the property of Chris Carter, 1013
Productions and 20th Century Fox. No copyright infringement or
re-writing of the movie is intended.                   
Author Notes: I had the best fun with this. I hope it can be enjoyed
by others.

*****
The unremarkable office                      
     
8:33 pm

"I didn't know if you'd come."  Mulder called over his shoulder as
he sat poring over a file at his desk. He had listened to the familiar
click of heels approach, a slow smile relaxing the strain on his face. 

"Yeah you did" Scully said with a resigned sigh, coming to a stop in
the open doorway. Her eyes swept carefully across the room. It
was bathed in darkness; light from a couple of desk lamps
illuminated a cluttered desk and cast long shadows against the
walls. The glare from a noiseless television brightened his broad
back and bent shoulders. A distressed poster, half-lit on the far wall
caught her gaze, its image causing her eyes to slip closed for a
moment. The room was too familiar, unmistakably Mulder. She felt
a rush of affection for him and silently rebuked herself for it. This
wasn't healthy. Yet she felt drawn in like a moth to a flame.
                                        
"Thank you" he said gently, having turned to face her. "Like old
times, don't you think?" 
 
"Mulder" she said, shaking her head slowly. "Mulder I'm here
because I'm worried about you." His face fell. "You...you show up
at my work, at a hospital Mulder, you risk exposing yourself, you
put me at risk, everything we've worked to protect at risk. What if
you had been found? There were children on that ward."
 
"If this is a house-call Dr Scully, I'm afraid you've had a wasted
journey..." She sensed that his tone was deceptively light, knew he
was consciously trying to keep things amicable between them. It
made her feel nervous, she'd sooner avoid a confrontation with him
right now. "...And if it isn't, you might wanna take your coat off."
 
She obliged, fussing with it in her arms. Old habits sometimes made
it difficult for them to discuss their feelings outright. Walls were
quickly thrown up between them and she was too tired to deal with
another barrier. "What happened to the dining room?" She asked
awkwardly, wide eyes again scanning the room. 
 
"I don't do much entertaining." Mulder quipped, stretching to take
the coat from her and throwing it across to a battered armchair. 
 
"What do you know about this case?"
 
"Just what I've seen and read in the media," Scully began. "Local
P.D have no solid lead on the murders. They haven't concluded if
the choice of victim was opportunistic or premeditated.
Scaremongering in the media is creating a panic, 'ritual murder' and
'satanic crime' isn't something folks in Virginia want to be reading
about over their breakfast cereal...yes I know," she waved away
his attempt at interruption, "...except the body parts have been
discovered in random abandonment and not laid out by design as
would be consistent with ritual killing...Mulder the Bureau can
handle this." 
 
"It was the Bureau who contacted me." His fingers drummed over
the open files on his desk.
 
"Yes, you told me that at the hospital. This female agent, she also
has faith in that psychic character?" Scully asked, still surprised. 
 
"And so the mantle is passed," he said with mock pride. "He's the
best lead we have right now. Scully you've seen evidence of
extra-sensory perception in your work with the X-Files."
 
She nodded slowly, "I admit to having experienced phenomena
which can't easily be explained...or," she added, seeing the delight
on his face, "vindicated for that matter either. What I certainly
cannot explain is your continued need to seek the credible in the
incredible."  
 
"I've met with him, Scully, and 'scientifically conclusive proof'
aside," He said making finger quotes,  "I think he's the real deal.
I've been reading about him too. Did you know that before the
discovery of the Americas, people in the Highlands of...," he tapped
an image of Father Joe, "... Scotland, believed themselves to live at
the end of the world? And from this far flung outpost of existence,
they claimed the psychic ability known as second sight or the two
sights. It's still present today. Think about it Scully, a vantage point
from which to peer into another time..."
 
She couldn't help but roll her eyes a little, "bred from ignorance and
isolation." She had forgotten how frustrating his romanticised,
unworkable ideas could be. "And speaking of the latter, there are
no windows in here Mulder." She couldn't stop the low hiss of
exasperation, throwing up her hands to where sunlight once
streamed in from outside. Not even a cobweb remained, they had
been bricked, plastered and covered with a mishmash of
newspaper articles and old photographs. 
 
He stood up, "everything I need to see is in this room." His eyes
lingered over her face as he said it. He turned and moved towards
a map of the U.S, preparing to launch into another detail about the
case.
 
"Why here?" She ventured, seeing her opening in the look he had
just given her. It was a question that had burned in her mind on the
drive from the hospital. This had been their home once. Home for a
brief time, for a stolen time when reality was suspended and the
future forgotten. Necessity drove them apart, or so it was easier,
perhaps kinder to believe. In any case they had fallen away from
each other. Until today she hadn't even known if Mulder was in the
country. Returning to this house after all these years was difficult for
her. "Mulder?" she urged. 
 
"I like the neighbours." She gave an impatient little sigh. She knew
there wasn't a living soul for at least two miles. "Scully," he
cautioned, a note of irritation in his voice. "I asked for your help, I
need your help, nagging concern has no service to me." She wanted
to fight him on it but the silent plea she saw in his eyes asked her to
leave it alone. 
 
She appeased him by reading over the autopsy reports on the
victims' remains. Silence stretched between them as they both read,
punctuated only by short questions and clipped responses. It had
been a long day in another long week, Scully rubbed her head and
tossed the report she had been reading back on the pile. She
wandered across to the poster she'd seen when she first entered the
room and fingered the edge of its creases, mouthing the words to
herself.
 
"Want the name of my decorator?" Mulder asked, glancing up from
his computer. 
 
"You miss it don't you?" He nodded slowly, understanding she
meant the X-Files. Scully made a show of looking around the office
again. "Well you've successfully grafted your old office onto my
former dining room."
 
He grinned over at her, "admit it, you want a desk."
 
"Resurrected that old video collection as well?" She teased. Years
ago that would have won her a smile or a smart ass reply, but
instead a strange look passed over his face. It disturbed her,
because just for a moment his mask had slipped and she glimpsed
the pain in his eyes. To make it worse, he realised that she'd seen it
too.
 
"Mulder I --" 
 
"Let's take a break," he said curtly. "I'll get the coffee."
 
One step forward and two steps back, she thought.
 
*****
 
She followed him out on her way to the bathroom. Turning the
handle she swung the door open not to reveal porcelain fixtures and
lavender soap, but a tower of boxes. Stacked floor to ceiling they
toppled precariously at the sudden disturbance, stray papers
already spilling out into the hall. Scully had always feared meeting
an undignified end with the X-Files, traumatic brain injury from a
box labelled 'Bigfoot in popular culture' befitted that. She slammed
the door closed just in time. "Jesus Mulder" she cursed as
something crashed on the other side of the door. 
 
"Upstairs." He called from the kitchen over what she could swear
was laughter.
 
*****
The unremarkable bedroom
9:17 pm
 
Walking through the upstairs hallway to the bathroom, Scully
passed a room that made her stop. She hesitated for a few
moments by its door, her heart starting to beat harder. The corridor
she was in was dark and empty, she could hear Mulder downstairs,
rattling around in the kitchen. She swallowed nervously and pushed
open the door. 
 
Standing in the large framed doorway, her eyes adjusted to the
cool, silver moonlight that swept over the bedroom. A large bed
still dominated the room, the sheets and bedspread arranged better
than a sales display. The room was in unnatural order, tidier even
than when she herself lived here. But it was stale and lifeless, she
realised that he didn't sleep there. The bedroom looked out over
the back of the house and she remembered reading on the bed,
listening to the bounce of a basketball in the yard. She smiled sadly
in the darkness.
 
Six months they had hidden themselves away in this house, holding
off the outside world while they rediscovered each other. The two
years earlier to that had allowed little time to explore their
relationship and they had returned from New Mexico heartened
that they could take time for themselves. Their relationship had
always moved at its own pace, refusing to be rushed. They indulged
in that, smiling at hesitant hands and coy looks. 
 
The room stirred memories for her, of them lying in the pale light of
winter sun, their bodies warm and twisting slowly together. The
cold sheets pulled tight over the bed turned soft and rumpled in her
mind, she saw them bunched around his hips and scrunched in her
own hand.
 
"Winter is erotic." He had said, looking out of the window as she
stirred from sleep. 
 
"Mulder you think everything is erotic." She said sleepily turning her
face into the warm pillow. Just as she was considering another hour
of sleep, she felt his weight shifting over the wooden floorboards
and heard the strike of a match. "Mulder?" she questioned,
reluctant to open her eyes and ruin any chance of a longer rest.
Another match was struck. Curiosity won out and with an unhappy
moan she stretched and blinked her eyes into focus.  
 
"Candles? But it's morning, Mulder." He smiled and as she watched
the tiny flames dance brightly in the cool, dim room, her lips curved
upwards. He mouthed "morning" to her and her smile widened. She
guessed it was still early, even Mulder looked as if he had just got
up and he was usually awake long before her. She watched his
untidy hair fall across his brow as he bent over another candle. She
gasped quietly, with the arc of his back exposed, she could see
lines of scratch marks running down his smooth skin. A blush stole
across her face but he didn't notice the observation. Silently
straightening himself, she watched his tongue sweep out to moisten
his lips, blowing out the match in a quick burst of breath. It was
really quite... 
 
"So why is Winter erotic?" Scully asked him. With the candles
finally lit, he returned to the window, giving her a first look at the
dark section of hair showing from his half-buttoned jeans.  He was
quiet for a few moments, lazily rubbing stubble with his knuckles.
 
"The days are short, the nights oh so long..." He eyes strayed over
to the bed but he didn't look at her. "Everything is still...quiet...," his
voice lowered, "it almost begs to be shattered. Animals holed up 'til
Spring, days when you just want to bury under the bedcovers."
Around them the glow of candles flickered in the weak sunlight.
"Spring is a riot of pheromones and hormones, everything in nature
clambering to seed and to mate." He interlocked his fingers to
emphasise the joining. "But Winter is slow, you can just take your
time..."
 
"Take your time with what?" She asked thickly. He didn't answer,
his thoughts outside in the frozen Winter morning. 
 
"The trees and bushes bare...naked before the elements. The earth
tight...hard." He absently thumbed the front of his jeans. Mulder
turned slowly towards her. "How you look in Winter is erotic...the
red of your lips...the chill on your breast..." He gestured lightly at
the impression of her upper body through the tightly wrapped
cotton sheet. "Dana please don't." Her arm stilled from covering her
chest. He continued to stare at her and slowly she started to burn
under the heat of it. His hand had slipped past the dark hair at his
groin and she could see his fingers shift and squeeze beneath the
rough denim. Her chest gave a sudden quake which was all he
needed to ease the jeans off his hips and tug them carefully past his
crotch. His erection rose heavily in front of him and she felt another
tremble of anticipation as he approached and wordlessly slid into
bed with her. 
 
The house rested deeply, the windows frosted and the birds
banished to warmer climates. They tried not to betray the
surrounding silence, moving against each other with a hushed
excitement, like teenagers discovering sex while their parents are in
the next room. A deep blush filled her face and she bit down on her
lip as his lower body shifted purposefully on top of her, his hips
working his cock into position. When his erection split through her
thighs to nail her body to the mattress, she moaned loudly, pushing
and pulling at his chest. 
 
"Shh" he soothed, reining in his own want. He slid a finger over her
bottom lip, followed by a second, into her mouth to stifle her
screams while his other hand quickly stilled her bucking hips.
Having gently arrested her movements, he beat inside her with a
slow force. His heart thumped heavily against her breast as he
smothered a string of moans in her neck. 
 
Scully was brought out of her reverie by her knees hitting against
the stale mattress. She let out a shaky breath, realising her thoughts
had drawn her further into the room. She felt a lingering heat, the
memory of his weight on her refusing to fade. She let her fingers
wander across the pillows and run smoothly over the edge of the
headboard. Her thoughts immediately flashed on the memory of his
control snapping, his hand gripping the hard wood for leverage, his
chest and neck flushed red. She saw his face tighten, "yes...oh
Scully," his body arching roughly, slamming the bed against the wall,
the stillness of the house breaking with their cries. 
 
A small sob escaped her and she pressed a palm to her mouth.
Dust clung to the fingertips of her other hand as she removed it
from the bed. She hurried away, no longer seeing memories, but
ghosts. The rustle of bed sheets and low whimpers seemed a
lifetime ago. It was a haunted love. 
 
She retreated backwards a few more steps into the hall and
thudded lightly against Mulder's chest. "Miles away?" His arms had
reached out instinctively to steady her but slid away quickly as she
turned to face him. He fixed her with a hard and questioning look,
one that searched for an explanation for her foray into *that* room.
Low light swung from a bare bulb further down the hallway causing
his face to fall into shadow, not that she needed to see him clearly
to feel the defensiveness and hostility rolling off him. He let out a
low, deliberate breath and reached around her to pull the door shut,
outwardly protective of the bedroom space. 
 
"I'm sorry" she said automatically, a guilty response to a feeling that
she had intruded on something. It wasn't her home after all, not
now. He had his reasons for choosing it for himself and whatever
cause he had to preserve their bedroom was clearly very personal
for him. She had expected him to withdraw. He was standing too
close, invading her own space, perhaps in repayment for her
disregard for his. Her mind drifted back to the room she had just
left, he even put out candles, she thought. 
 
The heat of her recent thoughts crept back and a tremble ran
through her. His fingers touched her shoulder lightly and his mouth
bent to her ear, "cold?" She felt anything but, backed up against the
closed door with Mulder's chest an inch from her own and his hand
frozen on the door handle. She tried not to lower her head to him
but it was difficult, as his eyes raked over her face, she knew he
was reading ever line of expression and noting every flinch. She
chanced a look up at his eyes, wary of the anger she has seen in
them only minutes before. His face was still hard, dark with troubles
and something else...his eyes dropped to her heels. Hunger, her
brain supplied. 
  
"Um bathroom?" She choked, abruptly side-stepping him.
 
"Still down the hall Scully" he said, almost whispering.
 
*****
The unremarkable bathroom
9:38 pm
 
Inside the bathroom Scully's fingers reached for a lock that didn't
exist. She had forgotten that. He always seemed to know when to
give her privacy and when to intrude, locks just weren't needed.
She turned and rested against the strong wood of the door, her
thoughts racing. 
 
Physical want throbbed harder than ever between them. The years
of pent up longing had been eased while they lived together in this
house and they had often found themselves in bed. Only, it was
heightened now because their bodies ached for what was being
missed. "I'm not done," she could hear him say huskily,
remembering a strong arm wrap around her waist to pull her back
down. 
 
Mulder had joked that it was their honeymoon period. No sooner
had the words left his lips when he ducked his head shyly. That
would have implied marriage, a relationship only assumed by
strangers who didn't know how deep it ran for them. Because they
hadn't found one another, they had collided with each other. It was
the most complicated and consuming relationship she had ever
shared, at times slipping into something dark and desperate. To be
in Mulder's heart was to feel those things, to feel devoured. But
with him she knew a love and an understanding that was unmatched
and it sustained them because they knew a truth, that to be together
was to become something greater than their own self. An age of
promises lay between them, the oldest as important now as it had
ever been, that she took his side and he had her back. That was
why he needed her on the case, and it was why she ultimately knew
she'd help him.
 
The bitterness had never been lost on her, how two people could
need each other beyond their own life's worth, and yet what killed
them was that they weren't...three.
 
*****
An unremarkable motel room
New York
2006
 
She had agreed to meet with him at a motel outside New York.
"Thought you were coming Tuesday?" His rough voice asked in the
semi-darkness. Managing to locate the t.v. remote, Scully shut off
the blaring television. It was Frankenstein. 
 
"It is Tuesday, Mulder." Eyeing the collection of bottles at his side,
she raised an eyebrow at him, "two guesses what happened to
Monday..." His eyes tracked her from an old, leather armchair,
watching her throw open the curtains and then a window. It
spooked some pigeons on the outside ledge and caused him to
squint in the harsh daylight. His eyes looked red and bleary and he
rubbed them hard. 
 
"Are you drunk?" She asked coolly. He gave her a sulky look but
didn't answer. She knew he didn't have to live out of motels and
cheap apartments, the fact that he chose this life for himself upset
her.
 
"Pretty, pretty shoes" He mumbled moments later to her feet.
"Don't I get a kiss?" 
 
She sighed loudly and approached him without any such intention.
She had zeroed in on a large, bluish bruise on his temple. Leaning
over him, she pushed back stubborn locks of brown hair and lightly
fingered the tender area. "Oww Scully," he squirmed. 
 
"Mulder what happened? Did you have a fall?" He shrugged,
looking at a point on her neck. "I noticed you experienced light
sensitivity a moment ago, do you have a headache, Mulder?
Dizziness, nausea?" Her hands shifted over his face, "you're
warm...and clammy." His eyes trailed down her neck to the opening
of her shirt.   "You seem to be having difficulty focusing your
attention..." He smiled roguishly then, his eyes rising to meet her
concerned look. 
 
"Is that any great surprise?" He traced a finger along her jaw and
pressed it under her chin, tipping her face up. "Look at you, you're
beautiful"
 
She snapped up straight and cleared her throat. "Ok, so your
'wellbeing' aside," Scully surveyed the room distastefully again,
"would you mind telling me why you called me up here?" Before
she could move away heavy hands clamped around her hips,
grounding her in position between his open knees. 
 
"About my kiss..." She resolutely turned her face away and her jaw
tightened. She promised herself she wouldn't do this. They had
been separated for too long and while she was no less committed
to him than before, bringing down barriers only to have to
reconstruct them later was too damn difficult. It was easier to exist
like this, to adopt the partner role when she saw him, but Mulder
was so much more to her now. Even with the smell of alcohol and
stale sweat clinging to him, unwashed hair and the beginnings of a
beard, he was always a sight for sore eyes and she had missed him
terribly.
  
She leaned back over him and placed a small kiss on his forehead.
At once she felt his hot mouth against her neck, his hands moving
from her hips to her back, holding her near. "Mulder..." she
protested in surprise but his lips only continued their sweet assault.
She tried to twist out of his hold and away from his hungry mouth,
her eyes already sweeping closed at the sensation. He knew from
heavy nights of lovemaking what buttons to push and he found them
again quickly. His lips and teeth grazed over her neck and shoulder
roughening the soft skin pink.  Her objections fell softer, breathier
as her resistance weakened. The hands which had pushed at his
shoulders now gripped them tighter for support. She felt
light-headed, redness burning in her cheeks and chest. When his
tongue stroked into her mouth, everything around them started to
fall away so that all she could feel was his mouth and the need
spreading low inside her. "You smell so good, Scully," he groaned
against her mouth. Surer now that she wouldn't turn and flee, his
arms loosened around her back, sliding to her front where he
worked his hands into her shirt. Moans hummed in her throat as
they kissed and she raked her nails through his hair and down his
jaw. Mulder's mouth moved to her ear and he spoke low, saying he
missed her, how much he wanted her. His arms swept around her
shoulders again and she knew he would soon pull her down onto
his knee. Her eyes dropped to the long ridge pressing beneath his
jeans and she tensed, knowing her control would be lost the second
she settled against him, but aching for it all the same. "Scully...," he
rasped against her ear, hands once more gripping her hips, ready
for the descent onto his lap."...I wanna make a baby..."  
 
Scully's eyes flew open and she staggered out of his hold. His
words chilled her, more sobering than ice water. She shook her
head in slow disbelief, "Mulder no." She looked into his face, he
almost looked confused, like a child scolded for something it didn't
know was wrong. She lay a hand across her heart. "How can you
say that? How can you ask me that?"
 
"What's stopping us? The doctors said, *you* said Scully that
you're fine now, that you're normal..." Shifting forward on the chair,
he reached for her again.
 
"...normal..." she echoed, her voice cracking. That word again. For
years normalcy was all she had wanted. To stop the car. The night
she found out the IVF had failed, when she understood the gravity
of what that meant to her future, the word had stuck in her throat.
She couldn't rationalise the feelings she had that night, the
incompleteness, the emptiness, the despairing need to feel normal,
to feel female, to have him touch her.
 
Hot palms came to rest on her stomach. "It'll be different this time,
Scully. We'll...we'll disappear..." Mulder nodded encouragingly at
her, "...and one day...one day we'll have William." She inhaled
sharply on hearing her son's name. It wrenched her back to reality,
to the dismal motel room, to custard-coloured paint flaking from the
walls and to a very unstable Fox Mulder. She threw his hands off of
her mid-section, her brow furrowing deeper. "You need to stop
this," she told him coldly, blinking back tears. 
 
But anger fired in him and he raised off the chair to stand at full
height. He pointed an accusing finger at her, "you started this. You
made me a *father* Scully and then you just..." Even in the
dull-wits of his hangover or heat of his temper, he knew better than
to finish those words. He kicked at the nearest liquor bottle instead.
"It was taken away from me, just like everything and *everyone*
else!" 
 
*****
The unremarkable bathroom
9:50  pm
 
Tears ran down her flushed cheeks as they had often done in this
room. She would cry in the shower, sobs smothered under the rush
of water and tears washed quickly away. It was how she hid the
heartbreak from Mulder. He knew of course, but only once did he
show her that. She had been in the shower for nearly an hour that
day and it was all he could stand. He shut off the water and threw a
thick towel around her, pulling her out of the shower as if it was on
fire and sinking to the cold, tiled floor with her. He cradled her
against him as she cried hoarsely, "what did I do...what did I do..."
Slowly her cries had subsided and she remembered lulling sleepily
in his arms, faintly conscious of his gentle rocking and the kisses
against her damp hair.  
 
She loved him.
 
*****
The unremarkable living-room
10:02 pm
 
He didn't look up when she returned to the living-room. "Thought
we could use more space," he indicated at the various files and
papers now fanned out around him on the floor. The emotion
displayed upstairs outside the bedroom had been replaced with a
renewed down-to-business resolve. The fire had been lit and its
warm, amber glow softened the room. She sat on the floor next to
where a coffee cup had been left for her, noticing that Mulder had
placed it a safe distance from himself. 
 
"Is it not more plausible that this is an organ theft ring?" She
reiterated after listening to another ten minute modern-day Dr
Frankenstein hypothesis. 
 
"In rural Virginia, Scully?" He said, cracking a sunflower seed
between his teeth. "An organ mafia operating out on Walton's
Mountain?"
 
"Mulder, human organs have become a commodity. Organ theft
exists because there is an international market for it. Organ brokers
operate around the world, in Central and South America, India,
China was exposed for selling organs of executed prisoners. There
are buyers in Israel, America and Japan, to list but a few. The U.S
has a substantial organ transplant waiting list, one that 6,000 people
died last year while waiting on. " 
 
"You're thinking someone wanted to cut in line?"
 
"I'm thinking that's not all they wanted to cut..." She said, nodding
to the snowy crime scene images in his hand.
 
"This is an X-File, Scully." He said, laying the photographs down
and folding his arms in front of his chest, "there's more to this than
meets the eye..."  
 
Mulder was making a third trip for coffee and she welcomed the
breather. She stretched trying to ease the stiffness in her muscles,
rubbing a knot in one of her shoulders. Yawning, she rested heavily
against the nearby couch. The case at least gave them something to
focus on that wasn't their own suffering. She felt a wave of sadness,
thinking how much she enjoyed his company and realising how
much she had missed it. Her tired eyes drifted closed at the thought.
 
Scully slowly became aware of a gentle pressure warming her face.
It penetrated through her sleep, sending a tingling feeling that was
comforting and pleasurable. She stirred, mumbling Mulder's name
and felt the sensation repeat itself. Her eyes fluttered open and she
found his face touching hers, his lips tenderly sliding against her
own. For a few moments she reciprocated, lightly brushing her
mouth to his. "Mulder...don't", she said, drawing in a quick breath
and feeling a pang of loss at breaking the contact. 
 
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his face an inch from hers. It was the
softest his voice had been all night. "You should get some proper
sleep, Scully," his fingers were caressing her hair and she didn't
have the heart to stop him. His eyes fell to her shirt, "I can get you
something to wear...?"  
 
"No" Scully said a little too quickly. "I uh have spare scrubs in my
bag." With the memories that had washed over her that evening, the
thought of being enveloped in Mulder's clothes and having his smell
rub against her skin until morning was too much. 
 
"You can sleep upstairs" he suggested quietly, a statement of
consent as well as an offer. His eyes had widened and were resting
unfocused at a spot on the carpet. She studied the tired lines of his
face in the firelight and watched him rub distractedly at his head.
The idea of her sleeping alone in their bed was definitely a sore
point for him. "You'd be more comfortable..." he continued. 
 
"Here is fine." 
 
He nodded, sticking a thumb in the direction of his office. "I'll be in
there if..." but he didn't finish his words, instead rising slowly from
the floor with his papers and retiring to his office.
 
In there if what? Scully wondered as he disappeared from view.
She changed quickly and settled on the couch, finding a blanket to
cover herself with.  His kindness moved her and she fingered her
lips quietly, remembering the sweet and hesitant touch.  
 
*****
The unremarkable back yard
1:00 am
 
"Scully??" Mulder said louder. She sat on a weathered, wooden
table in the yard, her feet resting on the bench. Light rain fell around
them and the blue scrubs she wore were getting wetter by the
minute. 
 
"What are you doing Scully?" She took him in slowly, he was still
wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and had hastily jammed his feet into a
pair of running shoes.  
 
"I came out for some air..." She said, her teeth lightly chattering.
She could still hear the screams from her sleep. 
 
"How long have you been sitting out here?" Her face had greyed
since he last saw her, when he'd leaned in to ruby cheeks and soft
lips by the warm fire. His hands ran over her shoulders and arms,
reassuring himself that she was alright. "Scully you're cold and it's
raining. I'm gonna take you back inside." He pulled at her arm but
she didn't move. 
 
"What is it?" Mulder asked as he watched her gaze at the night
stars. 
 
"Do you ever look at the stars and wonder if he's seeing them too?"
She lowered her eyes to his. His eyes were even darker in the
moonlight and his rain slick hair looked black.   
 
"Actually I hope he's got his butt in bed right now." He said with a
hollow humour. "Which is where *yours* should be." He quickly
added, eyes falling away from the damp material clinging to her
frame. 
  
"Why here, Mulder?" She asked, attempting the earlier night's
question again.
 
He was quiet for a short time, his fingers tightening around her
wrist. "We were happy here weren't we Scully?" He smiled down
at her but she saw the redness in his eyes, heard the shake in his
voice. He was seeking her reassurance.
 
She touched his cheek and offered a weak smile, "every day," she
told him. "And that's why you came back here?"
 
He gave a simple nod before heaving a sigh. "I've believed in the
unnatural, the impossible and the fantastic, so why not this?" He
nodded around them, "a home, and *you* Scully and our child out
playing in this yard..."
 
Her eyes fell to the fingers wrapped around her wrist and for a few
moments she couldn't speak. Wind rustled in the trees and rain
dripped through the last of the year's leaves. When she spoke, her
voice shook. "My life is so dark Mulder. I'm afraid one day I'll be
lost to it...never-ending darkness," she trailed off. 
 
"I know you're scared about this case, about what it means
returning to the field." He had seen the fear in her face at the
hospital earlier that day.
 
She nodded, "and I'm scared by how my family will look at me,
what I already see in my brother's eyes..." For years Bill had
sneered at how easily Mulder bent her to his will. He wouldn't
listen, couldn't understand that it was her choice, her will. Her
brother's anger over William's adoption spilled out regularly. She
had never asked him to agree with the choices she had made, or
even to accept them, only to respect her right and judgement to
make them.
 
Mulder stepped closer to her and brushed strands of wet hair from
her face. "If I could erase all the hurt I would. I can't." He said,
shaking his head. "But when things get dark and you feel scared, I'll
have your hand." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it,
holding it against his mouth for a few moments before leading it
around his neck. In a smooth motion he lifted her into his arms and
silently took her back into the house.
 
*****
Fin. 



Archivist's Note:  This is the first time I've posted a story
without receiving the author's permission.  However, seeing as
the story has already been shared via email upon request on a few
occasions (I was the provider on one) and that the requests have
surfaced repeatedly since that time, I decided to post it.  I have
tried to find the author - the last siting was on the TWOP forums,
that I know of - and that was a couple of years ago.  

kilted - you've written a wonderful story, and it has moved many.
I hope this is all right, but should you ever surface and decide
that it's not, please let me know at the email address on the 
front page of the site, and I'll remove your story pronto.