So Much
For the Afterglow
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CATEGORY: A, some H
CONTENT WARNING: MSR
RATING: PG-13, allusions to sexual situations, mild
profanity
SPOILERS: Post-Fight the Future, but no real spoilers
here
DISCLAIMER: Say it with me: The characters utilized for
this story are the sole property of Chris Carter, 1013
Productions and FOX. I have the right to remain silent,
anything I say or do will be used against me in a court
of...oh, wrong disclaimer...
SUMMARY: A pivotal night in the lives of Mulder and
Scully opens the door a completely new nightmare.
ARCHIVE: Yes. If archiving to a private site, attach my
name and address and send me the URL so I can obsessively
come to see what it looks like elsewhere ;)
Apologies to my always helpful Beta
Readers for not letting them in on this one. Feeniks,
Joann, L.A. and Kristen, I'll expect a full
tongue-lashing of "you should'ves" tomorrow!
Damage Control = Feedback. Please?
So, what do you get when an X-Files
humorist who isn't, by definition, a 'Shipper writes a
'Shipper story during a vulnerable, unguarded moment?
Read on:
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It was 7:30 PM.
The doorbell-ringer could've been
anyone.
A Jehovah's Witness, a Girl Scout,
Frohike, the cops...
It was *supposed* to be the pizza
delivery guy. An extra large pepperoni and sausage with
black olives and extra cheese, and make it snappy. Mulder
checked his watch. Their 30 minute guarantee time was
almost up. So, usual paranoia aside, Mulder opened the
door, moist twenty-dollar bill clenched in his hand,
expression expectant of a pleasant wafting sensation of
meat, cheese and artery-clogging fat.
Mulder blinked once, twice.
"Sir?!"
Assistant Director Skinner stood at the
door, his shirt the only reminder that they had all been
at work today. He'd changed into jeans. Somehow, this
didn't diminish his authority.
He blinked once, twice. Paused to push
his glasses up. "Agent Mulder, what are you doing in
Agent Scully's apartment?"
(Don't say 'screwing'!)
"We're working on a case,
sir," Mulder said matter-of-factly, gesturing at a
table covered with open files and scattered papers,
making the kitchen look like the floor of the stock
market.
Skinner nodded at the table, and asked
succinctly. "Where are your pants, Agent
Mulder?"
"My..." Mulder looked down.
"I'm wearing shorts, sir. It's in the nineties
outside."
"Boxer shorts." Skinner
stated.
"Shorts are shorts, sir."
Mulder now mentally added 'annoyed' to his previous
complaint list of 'hungry'. "Do you need to speak
with Agent Scully?"
"Not particularly," said
Skinner, still looking past Mulder into the living room.
"Where is she?"
"She's in the bathroom, sir."
He nodded. Mulder didn't have the heart
to tell him that she was in there taking a lavish bubble
bath that - up until the doorbell rang - he had been
spectating with much fervor and some cheering.
"Well, I did need to have a word
with both of you. I guess this just makes it more
convenient." Skinner cleared his throat, and paused
again. "Are you going to let me in, Agent
Mulder?"
(No.)
Mulder keened his hazel-eyed gaze at
Skinner in a last-ditch effort to silently say what
should've been apparent. It all bounced off the glare in
Skinner's glasses. Begrudgingly stepping aside, he
gestured to the couch and shut the door as the assistant
director stepped past. Mulder finally exhaled, but his
nerves were in fits.
"Which case are you working
on?" Skinner made himself cozy on Agent Scully's
sofa, a sofa that just moments before had been made the
crux of a paranormal phenomenon in Mulder's life. A
paranormal event that involved the fact that Scully's
brassiere peeked out from under the back of the sofa.
Mulder gasped and nudged it the rest of the way under
with his foot. Where *were* his pants?
"Uhh..." Mulder took a quick
assessment of the living room. "We're working on the
Mallory Hampton case, sir."
"Good." Skinner stretched his
legs. "The Bureau is breathing down the back of my
neck about it."
Mulder was looking at the kitchen table
and its scattered contents. "We're on top of it,
sir."
"On top of what?" Skinner
asked, also giving the table a critical eye.
Mulder nearly jumped out of his skin
and was inches away from emitting a shriek. (Does he
know?) He straightened. "The case, sir. We have a
few avenues left as far as resolving the situation."
Skinner stared blankly at the wall
opposite the sofa.
"I'll see what's taking Agent
Scully, sir." Relieved for a chance to step out of
the room, Mulder walked with one eye half-cocked over his
shoulder, wondering if walking *into* the bathroom to
check on her progress would be within Skinner's sight. He
subtly and deftly pushed the door so that it was only
open a couple of inches and finally let his composure go
slack.
Scully was applying lotion to an area
that was very susceptible to unannounced fondling. He'd
never known that a white towel could look like the height
of fashion.
"There you are," Scully
replied, approaching him, wet strands of her auburn hair
alluringly framing her face. "Did the guy have to
*make* the pizza here or something?"
"Shh," he said, ducking her
kiss. "Skinner's here."
"Who?" She inadvertently lost
her grasp of the towel.
"Get the soap out of your
ears," Mulder said, tensing. "Assistant
Director Skinner is sitting on your couch as we
speak."
Scully grabbed her bathrobe, half of
her mouth smiling. "I'm not into the kinky aspect of
that, Mulder, but I guess we could give it a try."
"I'm not kidding!" Mulder
said in a desperate whisper. "He's in there right
now. And if I'm in here for one minute more, he's going
to -- "
"Right," she said, smirking.
"How gullible do you think I am?"
"He's *here*," Mulder hissed,
and to illustrate his point, called out over his
shoulder, "We'll be there in a second, sir!"
"Alright," Skinner said
gruffly, and - unless Mulder was imagining things -
suspiciously.
Scully dropped the towel again.
"Oh shit."
"Ditto," said Mulder,
half-frantic. "What are we going to do?"
She brushed past him. "I need to
get dressed!"
"He'll hear you!" Mulder
whispered loudly.
"He'll hear *you* first," she
said through clenched teeth. "Couldn't you have
looked through the peephole before you opened the
door?"
"I thought it was the pizza!"
And before the words were even out of his mouth, the
doorbell chimed a second time.
"Who now?" muttered Scully
bleakly. "The Section Chief?"
"You want me to get that?"
Skinner asked from the sofa.
"I'll get it, sir!" Mulder
answered, and took in one last glimpse of Scully, who was
glistening in a way that, earlier, would've made her
prone to a Naked Tackle. He gave her a quick kiss.
"I'll think of something, okay? Just...get
dressed."
As she pulled on a pair of jeans, she
didn't seem to be convinced.
The knocking continued as Mulder
breezed by the assistant director. "She's...not
feeling well, sir. She had something for lunch that
disagreed with her. She'll be out in a second."
Mulder didn't wait for affirmation, but opened the door
with one sweeping motion. The delivery guy from Pirelli's
Pizza stood there, grinning.
"Hey, there," he said, red
insulated bag in hand. "You Mulder?"
Mulder nodded dismissively, pulling the
twenty dollar bill out of his shirt pocket. "What do
I owe you?"
"Hey, you were the highlight of
the evening!" exclaimed the delivery guy with a
wall-rattling guffaw. "We should give you the pizza
for free!"
"Keep the change," said
Mulder anxiously, making a mad grab for the pizza.
The delivery guy continued. "I
mean, how many people can *order a pizza* while they're
having their brains screwed out by..." His voice
faded as he looked over Mulder's shoulder.
Mulder followed his eye. From the sofa,
Skinner offered a friendly wave.
Mulder spun back around, almost as
adamant about reinstating his sexuality as he was about
making the pizza guy shut the hell up.
"Huh," said the man, miffed,
pocketing the $20. "Whatever winds your crank."
Mulder stood there, pizza in hand,
stammering, "But...I..."
Pirelli's representative was already
down the hall, walking as if he'd been betrayed. Mulder
gave the door a good slam and turned toward Skinner,
wondering what came next.
Skinner was obviously wondering the
same.
"Pizza, sir?" Mulder offered
weakly.
"I ate," said Skinner coldly.
"Are you going to tell me what's really going on
here?"
Mulder turned, swallowing the lump in
his throat, to put the pizza down with the disarray of
case files on the dining room table.
"Have I ever given you reason to
think I'm gullible, Agent Mulder?" Skinner was
standing now. "I won't tolerate you telling me an
outright lie."
Still saying nothing, Mulder opened the
bedroom door, where Scully stood - caught unaware - in
her jeans and t-shirt.
"He knows," Mulder said
quietly, avoiding her eye.
"I knew before I even knocked on
the door, Agent Mulder." Skinner absently paced the
length of Scully's living room.
With a violence that spread inside of
him, Mulder held Scully's arm tightly. "There's
cameras in here? They were watching us?"
"They were watching you, Agent
Mulder," whispered Skinner harshly. "But they
weren't using a camera." Skinner walked past both of
them and threw the dining room curtains open. He jabbed
at the window that directly faced Scully's apartment from
across the private drive. "They were there."
Mulder peered into the growing darkness
of the streets surrounding Scully's apartment building.
The window across was unlit, and to Mulder felt like an
unblinking eye that was still watching. Turning away from
it, he asked, deadpan voice wrapped up in anger,
"Why were they watching us?"
"Is this a justifiable cause for
debunking our work?" Scully demanded. "Shutting
down the X-Files again?"
"They don't want to close the
X-Files." Skinner closed the curtains, even though
he knew the men were long gone.
"Then what?" Mulder stood
between the assistant director and Scully. "Was
it...him?"
They both knew who he was referring to.
Mulder couldn't even make himself say the name - or what
passed for a name - aloud.
"This wasn't important enough for
him to be present, even though he was the one who called
me," Skinner answered flatly, looking from Mulder to
Scully and back again. "This was a tactical
exercise."
"A tactical..." Mulder
breathed in, sharply. "A *sniper*?"
Skinner nodded. "I didn't come
over here to reprimand you for a serious violation of
protocol, Agents. Even though that's what it is."
The assistant director turned away from them, heading
towards the door. He stopped again. "I came here to
warn you. The man...had a good, clean shot for
Scully."
"For Scully?" Mulder's heart
quit beating for what seemed like minutes. "For
Scully?"
"They don't want to kill you,
Agent Mulder." Skinner put his hands in his pockets,
eyes lingering on both of them. "Not directly,
anyway. They take you out, and Scully will continue to do
your work. This is what they know. But if they take her
out, they're fairly sure you couldn't make it alone. You
may want to work on that. You may want to change their
minds."
Mulder swallowed. "You stopped
them?"
Skinner was at the door, feeling a
solidarity in the room that didn't include him. "I
didn't stop them, Agent Mulder. You did. Right when the
man had a clear shot you...you stood with her. They
couldn't have hit her without hitting you as well."
"What do you want us to do now,
sir?" Scully asked, strong and determined. More
strong and determined than Mulder could muster.
"I'm not here to 'bust you', Agent
Scully." He opened the door, standing halfway out
into the hall. "Just...protect each other."
He left, pulling the door closed behind
him. Mulder wanted to lock the door. Better yet, they
could put even more locks on it. The windows would have
to go, or be boarded up, or something. He'd get Frohike
to help him sweep the room for surveillance devices, and
they'd do something about the house across the
way...hell, he'd move into it, if he had to. He'd...
He looked at Scully, whose eyes were
magnetized to the darkened window across the drive as his
eyes had been. He'd move in here.
He'd never leave her side.
Pulling her away, he took a new
assessment of the living room. What if...what if she were
standing beside the sofa, right in the path of the
window...and when she'd said the words, when she had told
him what he'd been hungry to hear...what if he had paused
for just a few seconds more? What if he hadn't moved from
the chair? What if -- ?
A sudden flashing image of her falling
back as the bullet found her through the window...of
himself bolting up, trying to make his body some kind of
tourniquet to prevent the life from flowing out of her...
He closed his eyes, and opened them
quickly. Neither of them could close their eyes anymore,
not without precautions.
Not without consequences.
"Mulder," she called to him
softly.
He was sitting down. When had he sat
down? Everything spun around him like he was its axis.
Turning to face her, he knew that all of it - days,
weeks, lives - were changed now. They knew. They knew how
important she was to him all along, but maybe they hadn't
known until now that she was Mulder's lifeblood.
The stakes had never been higher.
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