Images (1 of 1)
by Dreamshaper

CATEGORY: MSR (really people, what else have I written? But I am
thinking of branching out...bwahahaha!)
SPOILERS: Home, an itty-bitty one...Emily and Cancerarc
shtuff...not too much
SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully face the woods again--and it's
dangerous as usual...but in an unusual way ;)
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, I wouldn't have the time to feed and care
for them.
NOTES: I'm going to kill my computer, and it's going to be grim.
Very grim. And very, very messy. I have a feeling I'm supposed to
discuss the story here. But I don't want to, you can read it on
your own without me explaining it. Not hard to understand. But
what *is* hard to understand is why my dog stole my cat's kittens
and treated them like they were hers for a couple hours. The
really odd thing is that that actually has something to do with
the story. Hmm...curious? Disturbed? Well, go read!

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The landscape outside my window is harsh and alien in the light
of the moon, and I am entranced by it. I have always had a
fondness for the elegance and severity of black and white
photography, and it carries over to my love of night landscaping.

I don't know where we are, I realize. But that is not so unusual,
so it doesn't threaten me too much, merely draws my attention
away from the spare outlines of the shadow shrouded fields and to
the man sitting next to me.

Mulder drives confidently, one hand resting casually on the wheel
while the other transports seeds for consumption. The small crack
sound that comes from them as he chews is his only noise, and his
eyes settled on the road. I relax farther into my seat, shaking
off the last of the doze I had awakened from to be caught by the
scenery, and pull the heavy material of his coat higher up my
chin. The comforting familiarity of his scent and is presence
beside me nearly send me off to sleep again, but I remember that
I'm without a clue as to where we are, and force sleep back with
reluctance.

My sitting up and shedding his coat draw his eyes, and he smiles
faintly in the light from the glowing dash instruments--other
than those there has been no unnatural light since I awoke.

"Evening, sleepyhead." He murmurs gently, with that same small
smile curving his profile as yet another shell falls victim to
his habit.

I don't want to respond, really, just want to watch him and the
sky and the fields that fly past us...but a faint need to *know*
has me frowning and sitting up straighter. "Mulder, where are
we?" I query, ignoring his tender greeting.

A shrug is his reply, and I shiver lightly in the chill of the
air conditioning he loves to crank, reaching again for his coat
and curling into it. His smile grows and I have to fight back an
urge to toss the heavy material across that faintly smug line.

Instead, I say his name like a warning, and ignore the
quicksilver smile it brings.

"Relax, Scully." He says in reply, and there's laughter in his
voice. "We're almost there."

I turn back to the window, trying to imagine where *there* is.
All I know of our destination is Mulder's great desire to get
there, and his promise of something I'd never expect.

We've been driving for eight hours now, and he still doesn't seem
tired. He is instead content, happier than I've seen him in some
time, and somehow energized. And while this side of Mulder is a
pleasant one, it is also a mildly secretive one. This Mulder
doesn't like to share, not if there is some kind of surprise he
feels he needs to spring on me.

This side of Mulder is as annoying as it is endearing, and only
his other sides keep me from destroying his mood. Like the side
that feels guilt for everything, or the side that blames others,
or the side that is simply tired and worn out.

But contemplation of the many Mulders will do me no good in
figuring any of them out, so I close my eyes again and relax back
into the scent of him and the warmth of the fabric draped across
me.

"Don't go back to sleep, Scully." He says quietly from his spot
behind the wheel. "Stay awake. Keep me company. We've been
driving a long time."

I sigh and open my eyes again. He sounds sober now, though no
less content, and I am drawn by the understated plea for
companionship. So I wiggle to face him more fully, though I keep
to my reclining posture and hold my silence.

Soemtimes, all Mulder needs is someone to listen.

And sometimes he just needs to know someone is *available* to
listen...

He lets the silence envelope us again, broke it only with the
crunch of the seeds and the whir of the tires, but I can't slide
back into the lulled state I had enjoyed before. I'm too busy
searching the roads, searching his face, looking for a hint of
where we are.

But it seems as if the road signs were conspiring with Mulder,
because we don't pass a one.

Mulder's bright grin catches me by surprise. "We're here!" He
singsongs, and I wonder about his sanity because there is
*nothing* here--but then he turns a corner sharply and I find
myself facing civilization in the form of a park entrance.

Park and campground, I note, and swing my eyes toward Mulder
again.

"Yes, Scully, another trip into the wilderness. But I promise,
it's safe this time."

I could strangle him. "Haven't you learned yet Mulder that no
trip into the woods is a safe one for us?" I ask, incredulous
that he would even suggest another woodsy investigation.

"Of course I have, Scully. That's why we're not here on a case.
We're on a little vacation."

His tone is bright as if he expects that to make it all fine with
me, but I just mouth the word. It's foreign to me, I think.
Vacation. I haven't had one of those in some time, and to have
one with Mulder is certainly not to relax...

So it must have some alterego type meaning.

Mulder has slowed the car to a crawl as I sit frozen, mouthing
that one word again and again in an attempt to translate it. And
just as I have realized that yes, it is what it implies, he has
broken through the shroud of trees and we are in view of a large
body of water, and a series of teeny little campsites, all bare.

Mulder stops the car and sits behind the wheel for a minute,
smiling, reflective, and I struggle with the urge to get out of
the car and *run*--but the moonlit beauty entrances me.

Slowly, I gather myself together, unbuckle my seat belt, and open
the door.

The air that rushes in is warm, and sweet smelling, and I suck it
in after the stale air of the car. My legs aren't the most stable
of foundations, so I lean against the warm hood of the car,
taking in the breathtaking beauty of the moon spangled lake and
the rustling, sharply silhouetted trees.

Mulder slides free of his side of the car long before I am ready
to deal with him, but the gentility of the night has calmed
enough of the low burning ire...I almost smile as he laughs like
a delighted child.

"Just like I remembered it." He sighs into the warmth between us
as he leans next to me. But he does not follow my gaze, turning
his instead to the night sky twinkling above us.

That doesn't surprise me. It's how we are--I'll look to the
ground, thank you very much...and he'll look to the places where
no one could ever see.

Except him, I sometimes imagine.

"We used to come here on Father's Day." He tells me, reflective
again but still smiling. "We'd camp here, and Mom would make
smores. Dad would tell stories, and Sam and I would catch
fireflies. It was so normal, and so much fun. But I only remember
a few times..."

Big surprise, I think. Not like anything was normal for long.

"It took me a long time to realize that I did have good
memories." His narrative continues, and I find myself leaning
closer to him as the warm timber of his voice eases into story
mode. "It took even longer to admit that I wanted to celebrate
them. But Sunday is Father's Day."

That's muddled, but I think I understand. I have felt especially
close to my father on this day too since he died. I always find
myself drawn to the water, to places we loved together, and 
sometimes painful but infinitely healing sessions of remembrance.

"Do you mind, Scully, really mind that I brought you here?" The
sudden vulnerability is near painful to my ears, and I frown as I
turn to look up and into his quiet, dark eyes.

"I was." I tell him after a long moment of considering and
looking into those familiar eyes. "But now...I'm tired, Mulder.
Let's decide if I'm still mad in the morning."

He grins, knowing he is forgiven even if  I am putting a hint of
uncertainty into the situation, and I roll my eyes as I prepare
to get back in the car.

"Where are you going?" He asks with that same grin as he watches
me open my door.

I can't help but look at him as if he's stupid. "I'm getting in
the car, Mulder, so you can drive me to the nearest motel, where
I will find hot water and..."

He's shaking his head. Back and forth, no, and with that damnable
grin. "No motel." He says cheerily. "Just me, you, a tent, and
the memories of our fathers."

Disbelief settles into my core for the second time that evening,
a heavy sense that no, this is not happening. But his gentle
laughter assures me that it is, and I drop my head onto the roof
of the car.

I should have known. No trip to the woods is without its dangers,
especially for me, it seems.


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I refuse to help. It might be petty, but I'm not going along with
this anymore than I have to. But Mulder seems prepared for that,
and with the help of three superbright lanterns has already set
up a tent near the water and is now "nesting" as he cheerfully
called it. An air mattress big enough to cover floor of the tent
has already been wrestled in, a pile of blankets carted to top it
and sleeping bags as well.

He's damned lucky he brought two. I'm contemplating how long I'm
going to be angry, and without the two sleeping bags I might be
contemplating how long it will take me to kill him.

I refuse to think I'd be contemplating how long it would take to
jump him. It's just not like me to think like that, not at all.

"Scully!" He calls as he apparently finishes and begins to search
for me in the darkness. "I'm done in here, you ready to turn in?"

I don't answer. It's not like he couldn't see me if he looked
hard enough, the boulder I'm seated on is near enough to him. And
I don't feel like answering.

He takes a few steps out of the ring of lights the lamps provide,
and I am struck by how young and attractive he looks, rumpled in
jeans and a tshirt, hair all over the place and eyes bright
beneath it--though even from where I sit I can tell they're
darkening with concern.

"Scully?" He questions gently though he can't seem to find me,
and I give up with a sigh. He hears it, eyes whipping up to meet
mine--and I nearly fall from my perch.

I didn't expect a look that intense, not after watching him cart
in those sleeping bags. His eyes telegraph something I've only
seen them show a few times before, generally when he was
drugged...something I don't want to name.

He steps closer to me, holding out his hands and capturing me
with his eyes, and I slide slowly down, reach out a hand to twine
my fingers with his, and allow him to pull me the rest of the way
onto my feet.

For a moment, a timeless interlude, we stand with my hand caught
close in his and our eyes locked together--but then he smiles
suddenly and breaks the mood.

"Come on, Scully. Lets go to bed."

And I allow him to pull me gently into the tent. He ducks back
out to extinguish the lamps, and I take the time to shrug free of
my slacks and slide quickly into one of the bags stretched out
across the surprisingly comfortable mound of blankets and
mattress.

Watching his shadow move around the tent, I am lulled to sleep,
and in no more than an instant.

But his eyes haunt my dreams.

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When I wake again, I am disoriented and disconcerted by the feel
of a warm, heavy arm across my stomach and a head buried just
below my breasts. I know, instinctively, that it is Mulder, and
make an effort to shift away without waking him.

But I fail, and I feel him snap to instant awareness, a talent I
envy.

He doesn't say anything, but he pushes the sleeping bag out of
his way and nuzzles his face into my stomach. I make to protest,
but his voice eases leisurely over me and I am ensnared by it,
same as I was ensnared by his hand eyes earlier.

"Father's Day." He says the words contemplatively, in the same
tone he used earlier, and I am surprised at the ease with which
he picks up an earlier conversation--though I shouldn't be.
Sometimes it will take us weeks to finish a conversation, it
might take months. Some of the discussions we have that go by in
a few words are actually only fronts for their deeper
counterparts... though I think we'd both deny that little truth
if it came to light.

"I always wanted children, Scully. Well, not always...but as I
aged."

"Uber-Mulders?" I say, grimacing with the remembrance of a
million things, the Peacocks, that baby...my own babies who are
lost to me now. He shudders with a light laugh and presses his
lips to the cotton covering my ribcage.

"No, Scully, not Uber-Mulders. Uber-Mulder/Scullys perhaps." His
tone is wry, but that doesn't stop his words from freezing my
breath harshly in my lungs.

"Breathe, Scully." He says after a minute. "It wasn't that
shocking a revelation, was it?"

I let my breath out in a whoosh. "No," I surprise myself by
agreeing. "No, not really."

He pushes himself up, onto his elbows, and he looks into my eyes.
"Would it be impossible, Scully? If you could, would you have a
baby with me?"

I have to close my eyes against the longing. It wasn't really
till I couldn't that the need to bear children settled on me...I
wonder what I would have said years ago if he asked.

Probably no. The Dana Scully who could have children would have
put them off till the world met her standards for them...

But this Dana Scully, who is so *alone* sometimes, probably would
have jumped at the chance to have a child. To go away, somewhere
far from where the world was and raise a son or daughter in her
image...

In his image.

"Yes." I tell him, because I want it to be true, and because he
needs it to be. "Yes, I would have."

His sigh opens my eyes again, and I meet his to find them awash
with tears. "Imagine, Scully. A child of our own, someone to
bring here and celebrate Father's Day with, someone to make
breakfast for you with on Mother's Day...someone who was us, and
herself..."

I don't want to imagine it. The thought is too--it could have
happened, it *should* have. But instead, we are alone and lost,
and the world would be unbearably empty if I would pretend it
full.

And then Mulder's lips are on my own, and I *can't* imagine
anything.

The kiss starts as something desperate, almost fraught with deep
grief, long held inside. But it becomes an exploration, gentle
and seeking within seconds. Mouths that pressed furiously shift
to dance lightly, hands that had gripped with fierce need move to
strip off a few of the layers we are confined in. When gentle
night air brushes my skin, I sigh, and when warm weight settles
over me lightly, I open my eyes to delight in the moment.

Mulder pulls back when I do, eyes already open and fierce on mine
despite the gentle qualities of his touch. "Let's not mourn the
children we can't have, Scully." He says, pleads, and promises
all with the one sentence. "Let's celebrate instead."

Watching his eyes gleam in the darkness, I smile slowly. One hand
raises of it's own volition to slide through the hair at the nape
of his neck, and I draw him back for another kiss.

We have already mourned, I think, together in our way. No need to
go through it again...

We come together slowly, patiently, exploring and enchanting as
we move. We have waited six years and are in no hurry now...

After a while, the touches lose their languid air though, and I
find myself jumping everytime his teeth nibble lightly on a
tender patch of skin. Sucking in great gulps of air only to
forget that I need to let it out when his mouth trails heatedly
over my lower abdomen and between my legs. Listening to him sigh
and murmur as my own mouth conducts a thorough investigation, as
my teeth find sensitive spots...

We tangle together, hands and arms and legs all wrapping and
twining till I don't know where I leave off and he begins, moving
together slowly to the tune of chirping crickets and tender
murmurs--and when the twining becomes more intimate, we both
freeze, surprised at the intensity of the moment.

His eyes return to mine, heavy lidded and deeply shadowed. His
mouth, swollen from mine, opens on a gasp even as his eyes close
and his forehead drops to mine. "Scully." He pants my name
through clenched teeth, and I wrap myself closer in response.
"Scully, are you OK?"

I admire his talent for finding words--my quiet of the previous
day had become a complete inability to speak now, and all I could
do to reassure him was clench my muscles, rising against him.

But he doesn't seem reassured. Groaning, he shudders heavily and
lengthily as I move. And then he sighs, and thrusts, and I forget
that I was reassuring him...

And all I remember is his name. It sighs from my lips as I
climax, and whispers from them as he joins me.

Later, when we are wrapped back up in a sleeping bag--a mutual
sleeping bag this time--I frown and force my eyes open. We are
spooned together, his arm over me again and resting on my hip
with a trace of possession, my legs tucked between his, and his
breath warm on the back of my neck. A sneaky suspicion has
settled into my mind, and I break the hold he has on me to roll
and face him.

It is somewhat unnerving to find his eyes open and smiling into
mine--and I realize that my suspicions are true.

"Did you plan this?" I question somewhat sharply, knowing the
answer already.

"As much as I could." He tells me, kissing me on the tip of my
nose. "As much as I dared."

"I can't believe you dared at all!"

He grins again, eyes dancing. "It was time, don't you think? We
needed to get a move on, or glaciers would have recovered the
globe before we broached that subject, or this one. And besides,"
and as he speaks one hand draws lazily down my back, tracing
random circles. "I didn't see you complaining."

I have to agree with that, especially since his caress is making
me shiver. "So you used the topic of what we could have had as an
opportunity to get into my sleeping bag?" I accuse.

"No," he replies and the tenderness in the one word shocks me. "I
did that to know the answers. I brought you here to get into your
sleeping bag. Would have brought up the subject of children
anywhere, it just happened to be on my mind when I woke up."

I search his eyes and find the same tenderness there as was in
his voice. So I settle back down, into his arms again, and let
him pull the sleeping bag back up over my shoulders.

"Remind me to be mad at you in the morning." I tell him, and
allow his scent to lull me back to sleep.

                        END
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