87 Shades of Black- The Shade of Truth (AKA 87 Shades of Black: Part II) By Slippin' Mickeys Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and other characters depicted here are not used with permission and are the property of Chris "A walk-in floated off with my continuity" Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox. I'm not making any money off of this. If I were, I wouldn't be siphoning gas from other people's cars. Classification: MSR, somewhat of an alternate universe. The first part of 87 Shades is pretty much prerequisite reading for this part. Rating: PG-13 Summary: This is a long overdue follow up to the story "87 Shades of Black," it picks up right where that one left off. This part has as much intellectual and emotional action as the last one had physical. Sort of. Bah. I hate summaries. Spoilers: No episodes, but you'll spoil the crap out of the part one if you haven't read it. Archive: Not without my permission, please. Feedback: Oh PLEASE do. It's been sooooooo long. red_phile@yahoo.com This fic is dedicated to Kim. I was going to insert my normal sassy comment here about her and harping, but she's one of my best friends, so I'll just leave it there. To Kim, one of the most beautiful people I know. Inside and out. XxXxXxXxXxX 87 Shades of Black: The Shade of Truth by Slippin' Mickeys I pull up to the house at 333 John St. Mulder had bought the house without even seeing it. Not even a picture. In retrospect, I don't really blame him. Time had certainly been an issue. The ad he'd read online simply claimed that it was reasonably affordable, with a great location. It was extremely close to campus, or the city that happened to be called campus, and boasted that it was within walking distance to the stadium. He hadn't really cared about all of that when he'd bought it, he'd simply been desperate for a place to live, and it had been one of the only houses on the market available at mid-term in the semester. Looking at the house, I start to wish that he'd looked a little harder. He had, though, been otherwise engaged. And perhaps if I hadn't doubted him, or been afraid of something that had turned out to be an irrational fear, I would have been able to help. But it didn't matter anymore. I have myself employed, Mulder does as well, and we had a place to live. That's all that really matters. We will move forward from here. We'll manage. Hopefully we'll even find something a little more suitable for a professor and a doctor, soon. We. That sounds so odd. I still can't believe that what's happened has really happened. I have to look over at Mulder sleeping in the passenger seat to remind myself that I'm not dreaming or hallucinating. I look back to the house. I'd forgotten what student housing was like. It looks like things are pretty much universal on all college campus's. Slightly run-down, a little unkempt, and with a neon beer sign in three of the four neighbor's windows. But perhaps things will look different in the morning. The house is lit only by street lamps and moonlight. It had rained during the day, and slick surface of the pavement only added to the ambiance. I turn toward Mulder to wake him. He's been asleep since we switched drivers in Ohio. We made good time, it only took us 20 or so hours. It gave us a lot of time to think. And talk. Unfortunately, I faked sleep half of the time that I wasn't driving and thought about how different life was going to be. I tried to picture how different Mulder and I would be. I tried to picture Mulder as a father. And to tell you the truth, I had a hard time doing it. Until Akron, Ohio. At a Mobil gas station. Pit stop/refill number 3. I actually had been asleep unlike most of the rest of the trip, and I awoke with a start when the gas abruptly stopped pumping in the van. I opened my eyes and saw Mulder passing behind the side of the oddly constructed building to go inside and pay. I stretched for a moment, and got out of the car, deciding that I needed something to drink. I got out of the van and made my way over around the building. And stopped right where I was standing as soon as I turned the corner. Mulder was there, just outside of the door to the gas station, leaning on one knee toward a crying six year old that had fallen and skinned her knee while running to catch her mother inside. I stood where I was, not wanting Mulder to see me, and watched as he said something to the little girl that made her stop crying, sniff a couple of times and then smile. He then wiped off her knees, and stood. She immediately followed, and then, more to the surprise of Mulder than myself I think, she grabbed his hand and he escorted her inside to find her parents. I'll never forget the look on his face, though. It was a look of pleased surprise with a hint of intrigue and pure happiness shaded over it. It immediately melted both my doubt and my heart. I decided that I didn't need a drink that badly after all, and waited for Mulder back in the car. I couldn't help the smile that played across my lips as he got in. He gave me a strange look before starting the ignition and turned to me, asking, "What's that smile for?" "You," I answered. He hesitated for a minute, flashed me a smile of his own, and then said, "How about a smile for Michigan? We need to get out of Ohio, Scully, the people in this state can NOT drive." I offered to take the wheel then, and he happily obliged. He fell asleep almost as soon as we pulled back out onto the expressway, with that same small smile on his face. He wears it still. XxXxXxXxXxX I hate to disturb it. It's not often that I get to see Mulder smile. But perhaps now I'll have the opportunity to see Mulder do a lot of things that I've never seen Mulder do before. The thought both scares and thrills me. I hate to wake him, but I need to get the hell out of this van. I take a good last look and reach across the console to lightly brush my fingers through his pseudo-spiky hair. "Mulder," I say, "time for school." He comes slowly awake and yawns once. "My degree's in my briefcase, I swear," he says, and then turns to look out the window. "Oh God," he says, a second later, "what have I done?" I smile and open my door. "Come on Mulder, it may not be all that bad." As soon as my feet hit the pavement, I can hear bass pumping loudly somewhere in the distance. I catch up to Mulder as we make our way up to the door. "Partying on a Thursday night," I say, "they must be secure with their GPA." Mulder fiddles with the keys a little, trying to find the right one in the dark. "You know," he says, "I don't recall typing in 'Student Ghetto' when I was at the real estate site, but I could be wrong." I chuckle a little and he finally finds the right one and fits it into the door. The door swings open and he turns to me before going through. "I'm almost afraid," he says with a small cringe on his face. I smile my agreement and follow him inside. Thank God, I think to myself, it isn't as bad as I had anticipated. The carpet is new, the walls are clean, and there isn't a rodent in sight. And neither, I can't help but notice, is there a lick of furniture. We forgot that particular aspect of our arrival in our hurried escape. Both of us are exhausted, there is no way we're going to move our bags into the house, much less any of our furniture. The thought seems to dawn on Mulder at the same time. "Huh," he says, biting his lip, "no furniture. How 'bout that?" I'm too tired to even respond. Then, he turns to me and I can see the light bulb that has just popped on in his head shining through his eyes. "Wait here," he says, and then turns to leave again. I walk to the staircase near the door and sit down on them, wearily hoping he'll make it quick. XxXxXxXxXxX He could only reach one sleeping bag. And at this point, I don't even care. Hell, I don't even know if we *have* another one. I don't recall owning one. So, at this point I'm just happy that this particular one doesn't have Smurfs on it. For some reason, I wouldn't put it above Mulder. He's standing above said sleeping bag with a small self-conscious smile on his face. "I apologize for the accommodations, ma'am, but you didn't call ahead." I just shrug and move to stand next to him. "Give me you coat," he says, and I shoulder it off and into his hands. He then rolls it up and sticks it at the head of the bag, then does the same with his coat. We give each other an awkward look, and then hunker down, take off our shoes and each breathing a sigh of exhaustion, get under the covers. I'm bone tired, but I'm still extremely tense. I can sense the same feeling rolling off of Mulder. I'll never get to sleep. And then, God bless him, he turns to me and tugs on the sleeping bag. "You're not gonna hog these, are you?" He asks. Tension sufficiently broken, I turn on my side facing away from him tugging on them a little, mumble a yes and within seconds, am dead to the world. XxXxXxXxXxX When I wake, I'm in the exact same position as when I fell asleep. I wonder for a moment if Mulder is already up, I don't hear his breathing. But then, I hear him sigh and tug a little on the sleeping bag. I realize that I must have totally wrapped myself up in it. I roll over to look at him and feel a twinge of guilt. He's wrapped up in his coat, and looks a tad cold. He finally looks up to my eyes, and, seeing that I'm awake, says, "Morning. Warm?" I wince a little and throw half of the sleeping bag back over him. "Sorry," I say, "but you could have just woken me up. Or taken an edge and yanked." "Well," He says, and I can see his shoulder's shrug under the sleeping bag. We both lay there staring up at the ceiling. He finally breaks the silence. "When do you start at the hospital?" he asks. "A week from Monday," I answer, then, "when do you start?" "I don't start teaching until next semester so I have a while. They're letting me move into my office early though." he trails off. "Speaking of moving in." He's silent for a few moments and then says in a tone I can relate to "I'm not sure I want to." I sit up, sticking my arms out behind me and look around. "I know the feeling." I trail off as I suddenly start to feel very nauseous. "Do you have any idea where the bathroom is?" I ask quickly, pushing myself up off the floor as fast as I can. "Uh, no," he says, "what's. Scully what's wrong?" I almost run through the nearest doorway which winds up leading to the kitchen and am rewarded by the glorious sight of a toilet through a doorway to the left. I make a bee-line for it and barely have enough time to lift up the lid before I retch what's left of last night's fast food dinner. When I've got nothing left to lose, so to speak, I reach up and flush, leaning my head against the cold of the rim. By this time, Mulder has stationed himself right beside me and is rubbing my back. "Are you okay?" he asks, "do you want me to call a doctor?" I get over my embarrassment quickly and manage to smile at him. "It's just morning sickness, Mulder." His hand pauses its upward trip up my back and his gaze has become suddenly fixed on the showerhead. "Mulder?" I ask, concern taking a 180, and watch as his Adam's apple bobs in his throat, "Mulder you're turning gray." For a minute he looks like *he's* going to be sick. Then he turns to me and says "we're going to have a baby." He looks mortified. I can't say the feeling's not mutual. XxXxXxXxXxX After what seemed like the longest unpacking session in history, helped along slightly by a couple of pre-hangover-still slightly inebriated neighbors who looked like they played rugby and enjoyed it-we figured out we needed a better game plan. Now that my appetite had returned, we decided to head to the Student Union, get some lunch and set our strategy. We only got lost twice. "How long is the list so far?" I could tell that by the edge of panic in his voice, he was feeling a bit overwhelmed. "It's really more than it looks," I tried to reason, "but some of these things are essential." Looking down at the list I can't help but count the number of times the word baby appears. Before I have a chance to mentally go over the list one more time, an unfamiliar hand takes away my pen and begins to write his phone number on my piece of paper. Looking up, I find a tree-trunk of a man looking back down at me. "Call me," he says nonchalantly "you're much too fine." The "for him" part is implied, and he starts to stroll back from wherever the hell he came from. For a moment I think Mulder and I are both to shocked to move, then Mulder pushes his chair out from the table abruptly. I have to move fast to get in his way. I stick my hand on his chest and grab his arm with my other hand. "Mulder, don't." I say, peering up into his raw, steely expression. Surprised at his anger and uncharacteristic reaction, but secretly pleased at it, all the same. "But Scully, he-" he starts to say, when I interrupt him. "It's okay, Mulder, really. Don't worry about it." He's about to argue with me again, his jaw tightly clamped so that I can see the muscles clenched in his cheek. His eyes stay on the man, hard and unforgiving, and then after a moment, they soften and Mulder is back. He looks down at me and sighs, relenting. "I'm sorry," he says as he turns to take his seat back. "It's okay," I say, sitting down myself, and taking a sip of my water, "I appreciate the gesture Mulder, but it's not the first time a man has said something like that to me, and I'm kind of hoping it won't be the last." "You weren't insulted?" He asks, clearly surprised by my response. "Of course I was insulted, Mulder, and for the record, guys like that make me sick. But *off* the record. A girl doesn't mind hearing stuff like that every now and then." I reply somewhat sheepishly. "Especially now," I add softly, glancing down at my expanding stomach. "Well, it isn't very often a man gets to defend the honor of his woman, either, Scully. You should have let me hit him." I can't imagine the look on my face, but if Mulder's sudden blush is any indication, I look as shocked at as I feel. "I'm sorry, Scully, I know that this is not the ideal situation.and I didn't mean to imply." Well, this has gone from bad to worse. "I know, I know, believe me Mulder," I reach across and place my hand on his, "I don't expect anything from you-I mean-you don't have to say that." "I didn't say anything I didn't want to, Scully." "Mulder, you've more than fulfilled any obligation you think you may have to me."I pause, wanting to lighten the mood somewhat, "and besides, that guy had a good 60 pounds and nearly 12 inches on you." As hard as I try, I don't think I was as successful at avoiding that land mine as I had hoped. He simply shrugs at me. "Goliath was bigger than David," he deadpans, "and when have you ever known me to do anything I don't want to do?" he says squeezing my fingers. I smile at him again, and steal another forkful of food from his plate. "You know, you just keep on surprising me, Mulder." "Is that a good thing?" He asks. "I like it," I say, and we manage to finish our meal without further incident. XxXxXxXxXxX Jesus it gets cold here. It's January and the "spring" semester just started. I've been working in the Pathology department in the hospital. I'm starting to get used to normal hours and coworkers without nicknames. Mulder has just started teaching his first class on Monday and really seems to be enjoying it. I've even handled a phone call already from one of his students who can't seem to wrap his mind around the fact that Mulder's only giving a mid-term and a final. I casually suggested to Mulder that maybe he might make the kid a case study. His reply was to simply mention that he would take off our home number off of the syllabus in the future. Our banter hasn't really changed in the three months that we've been in Ann Arbor. In fact, our relationship itself has remained pretty static. There's a fondness now between us that shows more than it used to and there's a significant amount of more physical contact than there used to be. I began by telling myself that it was because there was no one else for us to touch, but I've recently fessed up to the fact that it's more than that. We're falling for each other. Not that there wasn't love there before. There was. But this is different. This goes beyond sexual tension and professional and personal respect. This goes beyond anything I've ever felt before. I've seen and felt glimpses of it in the past-but this. Its bordering on completion. And yet there's something holding us back. *I'm* holding us back. I'm ruminating just why that is when he calls. His students have recommended a pizza place in town and he wants me to meet him there. I'll think about this later. XxXxXxXxXxX I hear him come up behind me quietly, sliding the door shut behind him. I don't turn, but continue looking toward the starry sky, pulling the blanket a little tighter around myself. "Everything's changing," I say, not really expecting or wanting a response. I hear him sigh in agreement and know that he's nodding without having to look. He stands behind me, but doesn't touch me. I think he knows that I don't really want it yet. I'm not prepared, at this point, to handle his emotional regalia. At least, that's what I'm rationalizing to myself. I have the urge to just go inside and finish cleaning up the dishes from dinner, but I don't. Mulder stands silently behind me. Protecting me whether I want protection or not. But I do want it. And for the first time in my life, I'm almost ready to admit that I need it too. XxXxXxXxXxX "Is it possible, Scully, that you are more beautiful now than you have ever been?" I know what he's doing. I know the seduction routine, even though I haven't had the pleasure of experiencing it in far too long. But I have never made things easy for him. I'm not about to start now. "Actually, Mulder, yes. The female body releases a hormone in the second trimester of pregnancy that makes the hair more lustrous, the lips more full and the cheeks more flushed. It's mother nature's way of keeping the male around when the female most needs him." I continue to fold the laundry just as I had been doing before, paying careful attention to Mulder, and making sure I appear totally aloof and ignorant of the situation. So I don't move when I can feel him come up behind me. Though I want to. "Scully?" He says in a low, quiet tone right behind my ear. "Hmm?" I ask non-chalantly, finally turning to him. He's closer than I thought he was. He leans his face in perilously close to mine, and lightly places his hands on my hips. My stomach flip-flops. "I wasn't asking for a professional explanation, and you know it," he says, his voice gravelly, but soft. And suddenly we're there. We're past the edge of epiphany, and staring the wall of action right in the face. And without a second's notice, he knocks it over. The second his lips touch mine, I breathe in quickly as though I'm surprised by the feel of his lips finally on mine. But I'm neither surprised by his action, nor do his lips feel foreign. I knew it would be like this. Well, I'd *hoped* it would be like this. But then, I haven't been kissed in a long time, either. And if I do remember rightly, there's more to kissing than just standing there, lip to lip. But neither one of us moves. We simply stand here, almost afraid of moving, doing nothing. And then, in the same instant, we smile against each other at the absurdity of it, and then both start to chuckle. It was all the release either one of us needed. His lips come down on mine harder this time, and suddenly my smile is gone, and I'm kissing him back for all I'm worth. He starts backing me in the direction of the couch and I grab harder at his arm so I don't stumble. He seems to take it as an indication to stop, and so he does, pulling his head back from mine slowly, taking more than a little of my bottom lip with him. I think he may have made off with some inhibitions too. Those pertaining to the three H's-head, heart, hormone. And though hormone finishes a close second, head wins the round. I sigh a little and lick my lips, trying to regain some composure. I don't manage well. "Now what?" I whisper, looking up into his eyes. "There's usually a natural progression here, Scully, has it been that long?" "Yes, actually, but that's not what I meant." "Then what did you mean?" He asks at a pillow whisper, leaning down to kiss me again. "Mulder," I say, flustered, "wait." He stops and looks down at me, looking too damn adorable for his own good. "Scully, what's wrong?" He asks, skimming his index finger down my arm. I back away from him and sigh. This is what I want. I know this is what he wants. But there's something holding me back. "I don't know what to say," I whisper to myself. I can see by the way his face has clouded over that he heard me. I need to tell him. Or we'll both go crazy. I've always known that Mulder had the capacity to be this sweet, to be this thoughtful, this selfless, this. this so unlike the narcissistic, tunnel-visioned man that I've grown to know over the years. He's had his moments of fleeting kindness, and occasional thoughtfulness. So as he's looking at me now, his eyes hopeful and almost hurt, there is only one thing holding me back. One to thing TO say. "I'm just waiting for the ball to drop, Mulder." I see confusion cloud his face again, and he takes a step closer. "What are you talking about?" He asks. I take a step back. I need some space to get this out. "Mulder, I'm waiting for some monster to come crawling out of the sewer, or some crack-pot talk show host to show up at the door asking for your professional opinion, or the Lone Gunmen to call and tell you they've found Sassquach. Mulder I'm afraid of *this*. I'm afraid that you'll get tired of me, or grow complacent with me, and turn back into the Mulder that I haven't seen," I pause a moment in my rant, flustered, not knowing what to say, and finally decide on, "since. before. all this." "That's what you meant by 'now what?'" He asks with a soft chuckle. "Mulder." "Scully," he says gently, "we haven't really talked about this, and I don't know if that's a good or bad thing." "Go on," I say. "Scully, when they took you, when this started, how much did they tell you? I mean, about what was going on?" I'm not sure where he's going with this, but I'll admit that we *do* need to get some of this out in the open. It can't really be good for us not to talk about the things that are happening, that are changing our lives. But then, not talking about the really important stuff is what we're best at. I sigh and answer honestly. "I heard everything they said to you. I was in the room when you were on the phone." He nods and moves to take my hand. "Then you know that they told me that I couldn't stick my exceptionally large and curious nose into anything that resembled an X-File." I nod at him and he continues. "And Scully, I'm not going to. I know and accept what I gave up, and I'm not going to jeopardize what I have now so I can go back to my old, miserable, unfulfilling life to chase ghosts and aliens." He pauses for a moment, "Certain things happen, Scully, and they have a tendency to change the way you look at life. Epiphanies don't hit that often, but when they do, they tend to leave a mark. I haven't given up my search for my sister, or my hunger for the truth, but I'm not going to risk you or what we have now. I can't." He pauses and squeezes my hand, "I'll keep up my search for the truth, Scully, but not now. Not yet, anyway. And certainly not without you. And when we do, we'll just have to go about doing it differently. We'll figure something out." Damn, Mulder, but that was some epiphany. "I don't know how to respond to that," I declare, staring at my feet. He continues to rub this thumb across the back of my hand as he's been doing the whole time, and I can hear him smiling. Don't ask me how, but I can. "Then don't." To that, I can only smile, and I stand and haul him up, too. "Come on," I say, continuing to hold his hand as I make my way to the kitchen, "epiphanies make me hungry." "Everything makes you hungry," he counters, "in fact-" For his safety, I interrupt "It is so important for your future that you not finish that sentence." He wisely smiles and says nothing. XxXxXxXxXxX I had the next day off, and every day that passed seemed to get colder, so I decided to get both Mulder and I some warmer jackets. The only warm ones we'd owned previously had been trench coats, and there wasn't really a need for either of us to wear them now. I pull up into Boyne Country Sports, which happened to be the first promising looking store, and head inside. I finally end up buying myself two coats to Mulder's one, and justify the expense by telling myself that I'm starting to show, so I'll need one bigger jacket as maternity wear and one for my regular size. When I hand the salesgirl my credit card, she looks up from the register and says, "Do you want your lift tickets?" "My what?" I reply. "Your lift tickets. You get two free weekend lift tickets for either of our resorts up north for purchases over $200." "You mean chair lift tickets," I ask, coming across no doubt, as somewhat stupefied, "as in skiing?" "Uh-huh," she answers, "do you want them?" "How exactly up north are these resorts?" I ask, an idea germinating. "Boyne Mountain in Boyne City and Boyne Highlands in Harbor Springs. They're about 5 hours north of here, but they're both within 15 minutes of Petoskey, and there are lots of places to stay and eat up there. We're offering some mid-winter packages too, if you're interested. They include hotel accommodations and some meals." At this, the girl pulls out a map of Michigan and circles the location of the two resorts and the city in between them, lining the northern shore of Lake Michigan, and hands it to me. "If you're interested," she says unintrusively, then finishes stuffing the large coats into an enormous bag and hands me my receipt. "Thanks," I say, taking the bag, "I'll think it over." As I make my way to the door I can't help but think that a vacation would do us both some good, even if neither of us has ever skied. I'm still thinking about it as I nearly run into a man that's standing on the store's steps facing one of the cars that's parked in front of the building. He's holding up two miniature snow suits, one blue and one green. The woman that's sitting in the car in front of him, with a two year old in her lap, points to the green one and he shakes it. The woman nods, and he turns, in turn nearly ramming into me in the process. "Oops, sorry," he smiles, and then pauses for a moment, catching my eye. "Hey," he says, just as I'm about to step around him, "blue one or green one?" He mouths "blue" to me, but I sneak a glance at his bemused wife in the passenger seat and answer, "Green. Definitely green." "Thanks a lot," he teases as he heads back inside. As I head back to the van, I pass his wife in the car and she gives me a thumbs up. Later that I day, I sit in our living room and actually think about asking Mulder what he thinks of my vacation idea. But then, recalling the previous day, I get a little mad at myself and start thinking that I'll probably panic and ask the receptionist at the hotel for separate rooms. As things were, Mulder and I were sharing a bed, but on a strictly platonic basis. Each of us staying well on our own side of the king size bed. As I'm daydreaming, however, I call back to the store earlier in the day and the man holding up the children's snowsuits suddenly morphs into Mulder. Unexpectedly, I am the one sitting in the passenger seat of the van, and a curly-haired cherub gurgles happily in my lap. I can't help, at that moment, as a wave of actual happiness and love sweeps over me. And all of my inhibitions, my previous fears and doubts are simply gone. I am overcome with a sense of security and surety that whatever happens, Mulder is going to be there. And so will I. And there's no one I'd rather have next to me, come what may. You can call it hormones-I call it truth. XxXxXxXxXxX END of 87 Part II Author's notes: I had started this fic last year as soon as I'd finished part one. I know that I had promised "The 87 series, coming soon to an inbox near you." So, I lied. This didn't come so soon, did it. But I really do adore this series and what's become of it, so if you're patient with me, I hope to continue it. But this time, I'll make no promises of when, or even if I'll finish it. Unfortunately for me, fanfic has necessarily been pushed to the backburner of life. A lot of my time that I have saved for it has been dedicated to my and Kelida Flynn's upcoming novel, "Manifest Destiny." I hope that those out there that haven't forgotten my name give it a shot. This novel has been three years in the making, with stories like "87 Shades" and "Laughing In The Dark" coming interspersed in between. Thank you for staying with me, guys. Thanks for the memories, the great stories, and of course, the feedback. :) -SM ---------------------------------------- The X-Files Creative Mailing List Archived at http://www.xemplary.com To subscribe, go to http://www.onelist.com/subscribe/xfc-atxc To unsubscribe, write xfc-atxc-unsubscribe@onelist.com Check out the XFC Feedback list http://www.onelist.com/subscribe/xfc-fdbk ---------------------------------- Imported to ATXC courtesy of NewsGuy news service http://newsguy.com