The story, ONCE AROUND, is definitely a relationship-story. 

This is an NC-17-story (or maybe more?????) and it contains adult
sexual activity.

Though I usually tend to agree that Scully and Mulder would not
be able to have both a private and a working relationship, I do
think they should be allowed to have a brief -- and hot --
romance. The story is written with all the pent-up feelings in
mind which must be making life difficult for those two sometimes.
Oh, and by the way, I got the idea for the story when I saw that
controversial cover of the Ausi Rolling Stone Magazine.


ONCE AROUND
by Luandra
bughunt@dk-online.dk

Disclaimer: The characters of "The X-Files" and the rights 
belong to FOX network, Ten Thirteen Productions, and Chris
Carter.

This is an NC-17-story (or maybe more?????) and it contains adult
sexual activity.

Though I usually tend to agree that Scully and Mulder would not
be able to have both a private and a working relationship, I do
think they should be allowed to have a brief -- and hot --
romance. The story is written with all the pent-up feelings in
mind which must be making life difficult for those two sometimes.
Oh, and by the way, I got the idea for the story when I saw that
controversial cover of the Ausi Rolling Stone Magazine.
Questions, comments, praise, flames, criticizm, etc, is
very welcome at the above address. Enjoy. :-) (By the way, since
I'm not a native English-speaker, there could be some glitches in
the grammar. Please bear with me on that one. Thank you.)

---------

The darkness was prominent in the old, abandoned warehouse. A
kind of fog wafted through the air in banks, occasionally
reducing visibility to zero. Sounds of various unidentifiable
sources made the whole scene like a nightmare. Advancing
through the rubble-covered floor with great care, Special Agent
Dana Scully held her gun with both hands, arms stretched
out in front of her. She blinked through another fog bank, then
advanced further into the former warehouse hall. Her partner was
here somewhere. She knew he had to be. "Mulder," she called,
amazed that she was able to keep her voice steady. The atmosphere
of this place made a shiver run up her spine. There was no reply.
She moved on, checking her surroundings with suspicion. "Mulder,"
she tried again. No reply.
     She came to a halt beside on of the compact looking square
pillars supporting the floor above. It was time for the flash
light. This end of the building was still generally intact and
therefore a lot darker than the front. She switched the light on
and swung the cone of light over the rear of the hall. Nothing
but rubble. "Mulder," she tried again. This time she got an
answer of sorts. A moan right beside her. She swung the flash
light to the right and starred at the pillar for a moment. Then
she noticed something. She took one step sideways, clearing
the pillar and then slowly looked up. What she saw made her gasp.
She had found her partner and he was in bad shape. Returning her
gun to its holster, she looked around the area again and found
something she could use. A big, wooden crate. She ran over to it,
put the flash light on top and started pushing it across the
floor toward the pillar. As carefully as possible she pushed the
crate up to the pillar and climbed up on it. He moaned again when
she touched him, trying to get his feet up on the crate. Standing
there face to face with him, she could survey the damage done
more closely. It seemed that someone had pinned him to the pillar
with two steel rods. They were driven through both shoulders and
his coat was wet with blood. She grabbed one of the steel rods
and tried to pull at it, but it wouldn't budge. With fear in her
heart she pulled out her cellular phone and called for
assistance. Her voice was as calm as ever when she explained the
situation and asked for the necessary medical care. Then she
switched the phone off again, stuffed it into her pocket and
started to shiver. "They're coming, Mulder. You'll be okay. Don't
worry," she told him.
     The rescue team turned up and ended having to cut him free.
After what seemed like years to Scully, they finally managed to
get him loose and moved him out to the ambulance as fast as they
could. Scully ran for her car after asking which hospital he was
being taken to and followed the ambulance as best she could. She
arrived several minutes after the ambulance due to a sudden
traffic jam and ran into the ER, a bad feeling in the pit of her
stomach.
     "An FBI agent was just brought in with severe injuries to
both shoulders," she said to the nurse at the reception desk.
     "Ahem -- yes. Just a moment please," she replied and rose,
waving at one of the doctors. He came over. "Doctor, this lady
here is asking for the FBI agent, who was just brought in a few
minutes ago."
     The doctor turned to face Scully and something about the way
he looked at her made her feel awful. "Are you a relative?" he
asked her.
     "No, I'm his partner, Special Agent Dana Scully. I found
him. How is he doing -- or is it too early to tell?" she pressed,
anxious to know.
     The doctor bit his lip, then smiled at her in an
understanding and comforting way that scared her even more.
"Agent Scully, I'm afraid he didn't make it. He bled to death in
the ambulance. There was nothing we could do to stop it. And our
attempts to revive him gave no results. I'm sorry."
     Scully felt as if the world dropped away beneath her. This
couldn't be true. "No," she whispered. A dizzy spell overcame her
and she closed her eyes for a moment...

... and woke up in her own bed with a start. She looked around
her bed room in disbelief. A dream. She'd had a dream. That was
all. But it had been so vivid. Could it be true? With fear once
again clutching her heart, she grabbed the phone and dialed the
number before she had a chance of thinking a rational thought. It
rang once, twice, then a third time before anyone answered.
     "Speak to me," his tired voice sounded at the other end.
     Scully closed her eyes and exhaled a breath she didn't
realize she had been holding. "Mulder, it's Scully," she then
said, unable to justify calling him at this hour. But she knew
he would understand.
     "Nice. Do you know what time it is?" he grumbled, sounding
as if he was still asleep.
     Scully glanced over at her alarm clock. "A quarter past
three. I'm sorry I woke you up. I just had a sudden need to hear
your voice." She was unable to keep the slightly mocking tone out
of her voice. She had no number for how many times he had done
the same to her.
     There was a brief silence before he answered and it was
obvious to her that he didn't get the joke at this time of night.
"That so? Well, could you wait to hear more of it until tomorrow?
I'm about ready to pass out here."
     She smiled and wondered what it was about him that she
liked. Maybe his weirdness? "Sure. I'm sorry. I'll talk to you
later. Sweet dreams." With that she hung up and dropped back
down on her bed. He was fine. No need to worry. It had just been
a dream.

                           * * *

The next morning he turned up looking like Death Incarnate.
Scully briefly wondered why. "You look awful," she stated and
knew that it would get him going.
     "No kidding. After you called me I couldn't fall asleep
again. I've been up watching TV since then. I feel as awful as I
look, I assure you." The slightly sour tone in his voice was
difficult to miss.
     "Oh, poor baby," she cooed and ducked when he threw a book
from his desk at her. "I'm sorry I woke you up. Really I am. I
just... well, I can't explain it. But I had the feeling that
something was wrong. A sort of... premonition of sorts."
     He dropped down on his chair, folded his arms over his chest
and gave her a look that she knew only too well. "You don't
believe in that," he told her.
     "What do you know about what I believe in anyway?" she
countered.
     "I..." he began, then changed his mind. "Oh, forget it. I'm
not in the mood for this today."
     Scully couldn't help thinking that she was glad to see him.
He was alive, he was fine. Nothing wrong anywhere. Everything was
like it had always been.
     "I've got a new case for us," he said, smirking at the
thought.
     "Oh yeah? Like what? Did a UFO land in your neighbor's
backyard?" She smiled to take the edge of her words, not really
sure why she felt like teasing him. Maybe because he didn't lay
off when she was in a bad mood.
     He rolled his eyes. "If you're not going to take this
seriously, I'm not going to discuss it with you," he growled and
turned his chair so that he had his back to her.
     Scully waited a few moments to see what his next move would
be and smiled to herself. "Okay. What is it?" He didn't respond,
so she got up, put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in
close. "Look, Mulder. I know you haven't slept enough. I know
you're in a bad mood. Don't be such a baby. What is this case you
want us to solve?"
     He starred ahead of himself for a moment longer, then turned
his head to face her. She was a little too close and their noses
almost touched. She quickly straightened up and took a step back.
"What?" he wanted to know as he turned the chair around again.
"Do I have bad breath?"
     Scully considered a reply to that one and decided not to get
involved in that subject. She wasn't sure she would like the
implications of such a conversation. "What is this case
about, Mulder?" she asked again.
     He cocked his head to one side and smiled broadly at her.
"Why, Agent Scully, I do believe you're avoiding the subject," he
teased. He didn't really know where he was heading with this.
It didn't really make sense to him. Maybe it was just because he
was so tired.
     "Shut up, Mulder, and get to the point," Scully told him,
uncomfortable about the subject he was trying to steer her into.
     "How can I get to the point and shut up at the same time?"
he countered, then shook his head. "Never mind. I received this
yesterday," he added, reached into his briefcase and withdrew a
folder. "A sighting. Down town."
     Scully moved a little closer. "A sighting of what?" she
wanted to know.
     Now he was smiling again. Mostly because he didn't believe
any more in this case than she would. "A monster -- according to
the eye witness." He gave her a meaningful look and handed her
the file. "A big, hairy monster with big teeth and long claws. I
do think the eye witness was exaggerating a little, though."
     Scully leafed through the file, then looked at him again.
"The eye witness is a 55-year old drunkard, who's known to
fabricate stories like this, Mulder. What makes you even consider
this case?"
     Mulder leaned back on his chair, a satisfied look on his
face. "Because people who fabricate stories like that usually
don't end up in hospital with deep gashes on their chest."
     "He could have had a run-in with a big dog or a mugger with
a knife. There is nothing in this file verifying his story. Where
do you find the reason to turn this into an X-file?" She had
worked with him for nearly three years now and there still were
some things about him that surprised her to no end. His
relentless search for dangerous situations to get into, for
instance.
     "He could have. But if his explanation is to be believed
even a little, it couldn't very well have been a mugger and I
don't think a dog could have caused those gashes. But I'm not
the expert on that. So, you tell me."
     Scully frowned, then looked down at the photos taken of the
man's chest. Mulder did have a point. These were gashes from
claws much sharper than those on a dog. "Okay, so maybe it wasn't
a dog. Maybe -- maybe it was a cougar, that has made its way into
the city. That's happened before." She paused to give it some
more thought, then looked up at him again. "I don't believe in
monsters, Mulder. For all we know it could have been a run-away
bear from a circus or from the zoo."
     He eyed her for a long moment, then smiled a little. "You
know, you could be right about that. But he could have been
right, too. We're always so quick to disbelief people who
have a habit of crying wolf. Maybe this time Peter won't get
eaten by the big bad wolf just because he..." he began.
     Scully stopped him by holding up her hands. "Okay, all
right. I get the point. So, we check this out and then what? Are
you going to tell Skinner that there's a monster in the city?"
He nodded. "He's going to have you committed for that. You know
that. He will never sanction that kind of case."
     "No, he won't. Not unless I can prove it. So I'm going down
there tonight. If I see a big, bad monster, I'll make a case out
of it. If I don't, I'll drop it. That's a promise."
     Scully sighed deeply. This man was going to be the death of
her. "Right. Well, count me out. My mother is coming over
tonight. If you want to go on a stake-out for monsters, you'll
have to do it alone. Where is it, by the way?"
     "An old abandoned warehouse down by the docks," he said.
     The words brought haunted memories up from Scully's
subconscious mind. A warehouse? Mentally she shook her head. No,
that was just a coincidence. Slightly nervous now, she pursed her
lips. "Okay, well, just take your phone with you, okay? Just in
case you do run into something you're not prepared for."
     "Yes, mommy," he teased, then grew more serious. "I always
have the damned thing with me and -- trust me -- you'll be the
first one I call if I get in trouble. Don't I always?"
     She gave him a crooked smile and nodded. "Yes. You always
do." She gave his knee a pad and turned for the door. "I'm just
going up to finish my report on this last little case of ours and
then I'll hand it over to Skinner," she told him as she headed
out into the hall.
     "How about lunch later?" he called after her.
     She grabbed a hold of the door frame and leaned back a
little. "That's a date," she replied with a smile and disappeared
from view.
     "A date?" he asked himself, a little surprised. She had
never used that term before. Why now?
     Scully wondered about mostly the same while she hurried down
the hall toward the elevators. Why had she said that? That wasn't
what she had meant. On the other hand, it could mean so many
things. With a shrug she discarded the thought. Mulder could make
of that what he wanted. The facts remained. They were partners
and good friends. Nothing more.

                           * * *

In the late afternoon they went to lunch in a near-by cafe.
Mulder's appetite knew no boundaries, not even when he was -- as
he put it -- ready to collapse. Scully once again wondered how
long it would take before he got a stroke from all the fat food
he was eating. The fast-food was bad enough. But he also had
things drenched in oil and salt. Not good for him. She herself
had ordered the chef's salad, a nice small portion of lettuce,
tomatoes, cucumber, sweet corn and bean sprouts with a light
dressing of vinegar, lemon and various herbs. For a moment she
watched him dig into his cheeseburger, then shook her head with a
smile and started eating herself. "If we were in any way related
I would hound you to eat proper meals, Mulder. You'll get a heart
attack from that stuff one day," she eventually said.
     "What are you? My mother?" he countered around a mouthful of
the burger. He swallowed and took a sip of his coke, then smiled
at her. "Besides, it's really good. You should try it." Pointing
with his fork at her salad, he looked slightly disgusted. "That
would not give me any satisfaction at all."
     "What would?" she replied before thinking about the
implications he could get out of it. And he didn't let her down.
     "What would you suggest?" he asked with a sly smile.
     Scully rolled her eyes and raised her glass to take a sip of
the bitter-sweet lemonade. "Something that's not dripping with
fat," she countered, knowing what he meant and not wanting to get
into it.
     Mulder made a face and ate a french fry. "It keeps me going.
What else can I say?" But apparently her admonishment had been
effective after all. He pushed the plate away, the burger only
half finished and the fries barely touched.
     Scully decided not to mention it because he might eat it
just to spite her. "So, tell me more about this monster-business.
What do you intend to do if you do find a monster?" It was
impossible for her to keep the slightly sarcastic tone out of her
voice.
     With a thoughtful expression he stirred the ice cubes in his
coke with one finger, then looked up at her. He hadn't missed her
tone of voice, but decided not to respond to it. How she could
continue to deny what he considered to be facts was a mystery,
but he wasn't going to get into that. Not now. "Well, I don't
know. I actually haven't gotten that far yet. Besides, I find it
highly unlikely that there should be a monster out there. There's
probably a rational explanation for what this guy saw. Some kind
of big animal. A cougar as you said. Or a bear. Or something." He
stuck his wet finger in his mouth for a second then dried it off
on his napkin. Then he noticed the strange look Scully was giving
him. "What?" he asked.
     She shook her head. "Nothing," she replied and quickly took
a sip of her drink. "I don't know, Mulder. Maybe you should leave
this one alone."
     "Not a chance, Scully. This is going to be fun." He leaned
back on his seat and eyed her thoughtfully. "Why are you so
against this one? I haven't seen you put up such a fight at other
times. Especially since you're not going with me on this one.
This one can definitely not fall back on you if it goes wrong."
     She sighed and looked down at her hands lying on the table.
"That's just what I'm afraid of, Mulder," she then said and
looked up to meet his eyes. "That it will go wrong. And it's not
my reputation I'm worried about. It's you. I... can't explain it.
I just have this very strong feeling that you shouldn't go."
     "It's nice that you worry about me, but what could happen?
I've got my gun and I've got the phone. It's a wide open area
down there and despite the hour there will be a lot of people
around. I don't think anything will happen. But if it does, I'll
be out of there as fast as I can run. I promise." He was touched
by her apparent concern for his safety. And it was a lot stronger
than usual. On an impulse he leaned forward and took one of her
hands. "I'll be careful. You don't have to worry about me. You
just have a nice evening with your mother and I'll tell you all
about my boring evening tomorrow, okay?"
     An inkling made her grab his hand back. "Why don't you come
over tonight? You know my mother likes you. She would be happy to
see you," she suggested.
     That made Mulder frown. She was really set on preventing him
from going. He considered her offer for a moment, then figured
that he could always go later. He did like talking to her mother.
And to her, for that matter. "Sure. Why not?" he then finally
agreed.
     Scully's relief was very visible. "Really?" she asked and he
nodded. "Great. I'm really glad to hear that."
     He was about to tell her that it didn't mean that he
wouldn't go. But then he decided not to tell her. There was no
sense in upsetting her with it.

                             * * *

He turned up at her door at eight pm sharp. Her mother had
arrived a few minutes earlier and had -- as Scully had foreseen
-- been happy to hear that Mulder was coming, too. And it was
on this evening that she for the first time realized why her
mother was so fond of Mulder. His ability to care so deeply for
her that he would put his career and his life on the line for her
was something her mother interpreted differently than they did.
She was certain that there were deeper feelings than friendship
at work here. Scully promised herself that she would persuade her
mother that this wasn't the case. But she would have to do it at
a later time, since the word relationship would be too strong to
use while he was around. Scully didn't really know why she felt
that way. It wasn't like there was anything going on between
them.
     The evening turned out to be a success. Mulder was on his
best behavior and they had a lot of laughs during the meal.
Afterward, Scully suggested they should have a cup of coffee
and at that Mulder glanced at his watch. She instantly knew what
was going on.
     "I don't know. It's getting kinda late and..." he began, but
Margaret Scully jumped in there.
     "No, you're not leaving already, are you? When we're having
such a nice time?" she said, sounding truly sorry about that he
would even consider leaving. "Are you in a hurry to get
somewhere?"
     'Bless you, mom,' Scully thought gratefully. She knew he was
polite enough not to turn her down.
     Mulder glanced at Scully, then smiled. "No, not really. --
Oh well. I guess I can stay a little longer," he then consented.
     They had coffee and talked some more and suddenly it was
very late. Margaret Scully finally excused herself. "I'm going to
go home now. I've got a ways to drive and -- well -- I'm not as
young as I used to be," she said with a smile.
     "Really? You and Scully could be sisters," Mulder said,
returning her smile.
     "You charmer, you," Mrs. Scully said with blushing cheeks.
She hugged them both, then was one her way. On her way to her
car, she looked back and saw them standing side by side in the
door, waving at her. And somewhere in her heart, she hoped that
these two people could at least find a little happiness with each
other. Both of them had lost so much. Fox had lost it faster than
Dana had, though. But they looked well together and there was
nothing she wanted more than to see them together. With a smile,
she got into her car, waved at them one last time and drove off.
     Scully went back inside while Mulder closed the door. "It is
getting late. I'd better get going," he said as he came back into
the living room.
     Scully was frantic to keep him from leaving. She was scared
to death of that dream now. The further the evening had
progressed, the more nervous she had become. If it was going to
happen, it would happen tonight. And she did not want to find him
like she had in her dream. She did not want to loose him. The
rational part of her mind scolded her -- quite loudly -- for even
thinking that dreams came true. But she couldn't help thinking
about the time her father had died. She had seen him then. All of
a sudden he'd been in her living room, sitting in one of her
chairs and when her mother had called her to tell her that he was
dead, she had known already. A sort of premonition of what would
happen. And it felt the same way now.
     Turning, she faced Mulder. "I don't want you to leave," she
said. She wasn't quite sure of what she should do to make him
stay. Well, she had an inkling of what she could do, but that
would be a last resort. One that she would most likely have to
use if she knew him well enough.
     He looked surprised by that statement. It wasn't something
he had expected her to say. Well, in professional terms, yes, but
not like this. Then it hit him that she was aware of what he was
planning on doing. And he still wanted to go. But if she wanted
him to stay, that somehow made it different. In a way he couldn't
explain. "Scully, it's half past twelve. We have to get up early
tomorrow morning. And I would like to catch some sleep tonight."
He didn't feel very sleepy, though. All of a sudden the
inclination to just sit down somewhere and pass out had vanished.
     In a desperate attempt to change his mind, she waved at the
comfortable couch. "You can sleep here." Once the words were
said, she felt bewildered. What was she doing? She was inviting
him to spend the night. On the couch, of course. But why should
he do that? He only lived twenty minutes away by car. There was
no plausible reason for her to ask him to stay. Not unless....!
No! Her mother was wrong. There was nothing more between them
than friendship.
     Mulder's reaction to her invitation was confusion. All of a
sudden he didn't know what was going on here. Was she asking him
to stay because she wanted to keep him away from that case? Or
was it a different reason? One he had never really dared to think
of? No, of course she wanted him to stay to keep him away from
that case. "Why is it so important to you that I don't go there?"
he asked, thinking that it would be better to bring the true
reason out in the open.
     Scully starred at him for a moment, then dropped down on one
of the easy chairs by the coffee table with a deep sigh. "I had a
dream. A nightmare. That's why I called you last night. Because I
was sure you were dead," she explained.
     Mulder sat down on the edge of the coffee table, his hands
folded in his lap. "Dead?" he asked. "Why do you think it would
come true?"
     Scully shook her head. "I don't know, Mulder. It's the same
feeling I had when my father died. A sort of premonition if you
like. I don't know. I can't explain it. All I know is that you
will die if you go there tonight. I don't know how I know. I just
know." She met his eyes and was a bit taken aback by the
concerned look he gave her. Then she realized that tears were
rolling down her face. "Please, don't go," she pleaded. "This
goes against everything I believe in, Fox. Everything. But I
can't help what I feel. And I'd be scared stiff if you left. So,
please stay." She reached out to place a hand over his.
     Mulder was more than a little surprised by this. Scully, his
level-headed partner and -- when all came to all -- his best
friend, too, was putting her faith in a premonition. That was
new to him. Sure, she had told him about the vision she'd had
when her father had died, but he had attributed that to the fact
that they had been so close. It had never really dawned on him
before that she felt as close to him as she had to her father.
Hesitantly, he put one hand over hers and looked into her eyes
for an explanation there. "Well..." he began. "If you feel that
strongly about it, I won't go. I'll go straight home instead," he
said, actually meaning it.
     But Scully shook her head. "No, I want you to stay here. I
don't trust you to stay away from there tonight." She pulled her
hand back and got up. "I'll open another bottle of wine. We can
just talk and..." she added, but trailed off. And what? she
thought. "Well, we can just talk. Just stay here tonight."
     Mulder looked after her as she hurried out into the kitchen
to get glasses and the bottle, but it took a lot longer than he
would have thought. When she hadn't returned after a few minutes
and the kitchen was quiet, he got up and followed her. The
glasses were standing on the counter in front of her and one hand
was wrapped around the bottle while the other rested on the
counter, clutching the corkscrew. She had her back to him and her
shoulders were shaking. This thing had really upset her more than
she had been willing to admit so far. His feelings for her
escalated. He had never seen her this vulnerable before and he
didn't like it. It wasn't like her to be like this. To comfort
her, he put a hand on her shoulder -- which resulted in that she
released the bottle and dropped the corkscrew, turned around and
wrapped her arms around him. For a moment he didn't know what to
do, then he wrapped his arms around her as well. Gently stroking
her hair with one hand, he just held her and let her cry. Some of
it was probably an after-effect of her abduction and the things
that hid in her mind. Things he didn't want her to remember
because they were probably too painful for her -- or anyone -- to
deal with.
     After a while, she pulled back and sniffed, an embarrassed
smile on her lips. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so emotional.
It's not at all like me," she said, not looking at him.
     "It's okay. We all need to give in sometimes. Don't worry
about it," he replied. "Come on. Let's have that wine and talk a
while, okay?" He grabbed the bottle and the glasses in one hand
while she took the corkscrew. Then, holding her hand and pulling
her along, he went back into the living room. He set the glasses
down and took the corkscrew from her to open the bottle. After
pouring them a glass of wine, he sat down on the couch, grabbed
her arm and pulled her down beside him. He wrapped his arm around
her shoulder and pulled her close, wanting her to know that she
could always count on him to be there for her. Whatever she was
going through, she didn't have to go through it alone.
     After the first glass of the new bottle, her fourth glass
that evening, Scully started feeling a little better. A lot,
actually. She relished his nearness as just that. The closeness
of another human being. The fact that she wasn't alone right now.
That it was actually him sitting there with his arm around her
shoulder, sipping wine on her couch. It meant the world to her
that he hadn't gone charging off despite her pleas, but this
wasn't the way she had planned it. She had considered going as
far as putting a gun to his head to make him stay. He was
stubborn enough to have pushed her that far. This was a lot
different, though. And a much nicer way. Now at least he wouldn't
be angry with her for threatening him. That thought made her
smile.
     "What?" he asked, noting the change in her mood.
     "Oh, nothing," she said. "I had actually planned on holding
a gun to your head if you wouldn't stay." Why she told him that
she didn't know. It didn't really matter now, anyway.
     "I can believe that. You've shot me once. Why not threaten
me with a gun, too?" he replied in a good-natured tone of voice
and emptied his glass. He reached for the bottle and poured them
both a new glass. "This is good wine. Do you have more of it?" he
added.
     Scully shifted a little, not wanting to pull away from him.
It felt good to be where she was. In the arms of a friend. "Yes,
another two bottles, I think. We should have enough to get us
through the night," she replied, wondering why she suddenly felt
like drinking a lot more wine than this. Maybe because it
improved her mood.
     Mulder frowned a little. She was acting very odd tonight. Oh
well. He was enjoying this as much as she was, so why should he
worry. As long as neither of them stepped over the line. -- With
a deepening frown he wondered where that thought had come from.
Maybe it was the wine. Probably the wine, he figured. "Why should
we drink through the night? Don't you think we should get some
sleep at one point?" he replied after a moment. "I mean, we do
have to work tomorrow."
     The amount of wine she'd had this evening made her feel
lighthearted and happy. Mainly because she had managed to
convince him to stay without having to twist any arms. But he
could still go there if he left now. Putting a hand on his chest,
she pushed herself up a bit so she could look at him. "We could
call in sick tomorrow," she said, then smiled to show him she was
kidding.
     He met her eyes and realized that she was getting a little
drunk. Well, people who didn't eat much got drunk a lot quicker.
And she sure didn't eat much. That was probably why she was able
to maintain that knock-out figure. -- He closed his eyes,
reminding himself that they were partners and friends. He wasn't
supposed to notice these things. He also realized that it was the
wine. It was strong and powerful, the way he like it, but it also
did things to him that he couldn't really control. "We could," he
agreed and returned her smile. "Yeah, we could do that. But I
don't think Skinner would believe it, do you?"
     Scully sat up and downed the rest of the glass in one
swallow, then reached for the bottle to pour herself another
glass. Her third, she reminded herself silently. Well, they were
pretty big glasses, actually. She then turned around to face
Mulder again. "No, he probably wouldn't. So what? He knows we're
responsible adults. Besides, why should we care what he thinks?"
     Mulder was starting to be a little more than generally
amused over her behavior. She sure could make a 180 degree turn
with grace. But she was drinking pretty fast now. He downed the
rest of the wine in his glass and poured himself another one,
thereby emptying the bottle.
     Scully propped her hand on the edge of the couch to get more
comfortable, but her hand slipped and she spilled half her glass
over her white blouse and his white shirt. "Oh, damn. I'm sorry,"
she said a little ruefully, but at the same time couldn't help
thinking that it was a little funny. "We have to rinse that out
immediately or it will never come out," she added and got up. The
wine had gone to her head for sure now and without thinking of
what she was doing, she started to unbutton her blouse and pulled
it off while she was heading toward the bathroom to deal with the
problem.
     Mulder was confused more than he was amused at the situation
now. For a moment there, he had the idea that she had spilled the
wine on purpose. But why? To make him stay? He had already agreed
to. And it would definitely not be like her. Unless she had a
side he didn't know anything about.
     "Come on. Give me your shirt or you'll have a red stain on
it forever," she called from the bathroom.
     Thinking about it for a moment, he then got up, pulled his
tie off and undid the first two buttons of his shirt. Then he
stopped. What was he doing? This was definitely odd. Odder than
most cases they had worked on together. Without further ado he
pulled the shirt over his head and went into the bathroom to give
it to her. He had to hand it to her. She looked stunning just
dressed in a skirt and a bra. 'Get a grip on yourself,' he
thought. This was not going to work. He couldn't stay here. But,
on the other hand, it was too cold to go out without a shirt on.
"Here you go," he said, handing her the shirt.
     She turned and reached out for it at the same time, then
stopped short. It wasn't as if she had never seen him with his
shirt off. That wasn't the point. But he looked damned good to
her right now. Shaking the feeling, she grabbed the shirt and
started rinsing the stain out. Occasionally, she glanced in the
mirror and caught a glimpse of him standing there with his glass
in one hand while the other hand was buried deeply in his pocket.
Then she looked down at the now clean shirt. "There you go. All
white again," she said and turned around a little more quickly
than she had at first intended. She swayed and he took a step
forward to steady her. This brought them so close she could have
kissed him without moving. That thought made her take a hesitant
step back... in her mind. But not in real life. She just stood
there, starring up at him and he looked down at her with the same
expression in his eyes as she expected he could see in hers.
     "Thanks," he said and stepped back again. Whatever had
possessed him to get so close to her was beyond him.
     "I'll just hang them up to dry," she said, her voice a
little shaky. She took a step toward him, the pushed past him and
headed for the bed room to find hangers to put them on. After
hanging his shirt and her blouse on the closet door, she turned
around and was about to walk back into the living room when she
suddenly remembered that she wasn't wearing any blouse. She
looked down herself and felt awfully silly for a moment. Even her
white lace bra was stained with red wine. Without further ado,
she reached behind herself and undid the hooks and pulled the
garment off. Just then Mulder turned up in the door, stopped dead
at the sight of her, then turned away. "What's the matter?" she
asked, feeling giddy and -- something else. She couldn't really
get a grip on the seething heat in her. It was like she wanted
to...! No, she thought. That's not going to happen. But it could
be nice, a small voice in the back of her head quipped. And
somehow she wanted to listen to that voice. Somehow, it made
sense.
     Mulder was confused beyond reason now. There she stood, half
naked, and asked him what the matter was. What did she expect?
That he was made of stone? The sight of her bare white breasts
with their pink nipples had caused a shiver to run through him in
a way he hadn't felt in a long time. This was silly. They were
partners, friends, and she was drunk. He would never take
advantage of her like this. He would never...! Before he could
finish the thought, he felt her hand on his shoulder.
     "Have I ever told you how much I appreciate your friendship,
Fox?" she asked, then slipped her arms around him from behind and
rested her head against his naked back. "I really do, you know."
     He disengage himself from her arms and turned around, still
holding the wine glass in one hand. "Dana, you're drunk," he
said, consciously using her first name since she was using his.
     "Yes! So what?" she replied, took his glass and drank of it.
So what indeed. She wanted to get drunker because it released her
from the constantly nagging voice of her rational mind. The one
that always prevented her from letting loose and having fun. That
was apparently one of the disadvantages of being the daughter of
a military man. "It doesn't matter. I'm not drunk often enough.
This feels good." She still wasn't wearing anything and that,
too, felt good to her. Again the little voice in the bag of her
head urged her to do something about it. He was there. He didn't
look as though her behavior disgusted him in any way.
     "Are you allergic to wine or something? You haven't had that
much," he said. He knew what he felt like doing as his gaze once
again grazed her naked breasts, but he wouldn't act on it. Not
when she was drunk. It wasn't right.
     "Oh, let's have some more then. And no, I'm not allergic to
it. I just get drunk very easily. So I usually don't drink. Not
very much, at least." She reached behind the door and pulled out
a kimono, which she -- to a certain amount of disappointment on
his side -- slipped into. Then she brushed past him into the
living room while emptying his glass, set it down on the coffee
table, grabbed the corkscrew and vanished into the kitchen. Only
a second or two later she came out again with another open
bottle.
     Mulder had followed her in and was about to pick up her
glass when she more or less bumped into him. The impact of the
collision caused him to sit down hard on the couch and she lost
her balance and toppled down on top of him, somehow managing to
set the bottle down on the table in the same instance without
spilling a drop. Looking into her eyes, he knew that she was a
lot drunker than he was and he briefly recalled that she had --
almost nervously -- been drinking a lot during dinner. She got
giddy when she had wine and apparently she also got something
else -- when she had wine. Maybe that was why she never had
touched it in his presence before. She grabbed the glass he was
holding and from which nothing had been spilt, either, and
emptied that, too. She was going to have a heck of a hangover the
next day. "Dana, slow down," he advised her, feeling eerily
lightheaded himself. He didn't know if he could keep a cool
distance to this for much longer and she made no attempt to get
off him.
     "Slow what down?" she wanted to know. "I really do care for
you, you know. It's not just something I'm saying."
     She moved her weight a little, her right leg getting in
touch with more sensitive areas. The touch made him jerk. "I know
you do," he said and tried to sit up with her on top of him. That
wasn't so easy, though and he eventually had to give it up. "I
care for you, too."
     She shifted her position again and made it impossible for
him to get up again. Then she pushed herself up a little and
planted a kiss on his lips. "I actually love you, too," she added
and kissed him again. This time a little more forcefully.
     He held back, starring into her eyes, which were bright and
alive and full of promises he didn't want her to make. Not while
she was drunk. Why do I keep thinking that? he asked himself
silently. "This isn't such a good idea, Dana," he tried, but she
stopped him by kissing him again. Her hands were resting on his
chest. Well, one was. The other wasn't exactly on his chest any
more. It was moving. Down. "I really don't think that..." he
began, then stopped short as words failed him. Her hand had found
what it was searching for and he suddenly couldn't remember what
he was about to say. He let out a half-sigh and let his head sink
back. All he could think of was how good it felt.
     Scully couldn't think beyond her most immediate actions at
the moment. That and what she wanted right now. And she would get
it. That was very obvious. He was already hard as a rock as he
squirmed beneath her, making a half-hearted attempt to move away.
The now drunk rational part of her mind knew that interrupting
now would bring misery -- both to him and to herself. In her
drunken state she wondered why she had never made a move on him
before. Somewhere in the back of her head, she knew why. But her
busy-body sub-consciousness was quiet for the time being. No
thoughts of rationality broke through the haze which surrounded
her mind and made her feel like a million bugs. She let her head
sink and kissed his shoulder, noticing that his hands were
everywhere else but on her. One hand was clutching the edge of
the couch while the other was dug into the back of it. She
couldn't help smiling at that. This was such a different way to
see him. And she liked what she saw -- and felt. While she
continued to kiss his neck, his shoulders, his chin, she fumbled
with the button on his pants, undid it and then worked her way
down his jeans. His grip on the couch became more intense and he
groaned silently as he raised his head with a jerk. "Dana," he
gasped, his breath coming in shallow, quick gasps. "Oh God," he
then rasped and let his head drop back down when her searching
fingers closed around him. It turned her even more on to see him
trying to get out of this but not having the strength for it --
or the will. For a brief moment, a thought flashed through her
head. What was she doing? Then she pushed that thought of reason
away, reached for the open bottle of wine and drank right from
it. Two swallows were enough to silence the voice of her rational
self. He was gasping for breath, completely incapable of stopping
this now. Her lips brushed over his neck, the tip of her tongue
tracing a line up to his jaw. She closed her teeth around the
left side of his jaw for a second, then slid further up to kiss
his burning hot cheek. Her free hand slipped around the back of
his head and she raised it a bit so she could kiss him properly
on the lips.
     He couldn't concentrate on much of anything, not even the
fairly simple task of returning her kiss. He was caught somewhere
between the line of pain and pure joy and his conscious mind kept
bugging him to stop this before it was too late. "Dana," he
gasped again, trying to find a way out of this and at the same
time not wanting to. "This ... is not ... a good ... idea," he
managed to stutter.
     "Shut up," she whispered, her fingers closing harder around
him, invoking an almost painful gasp from him. "You talk too
much," she added. With her fingers still closed hard around him,
she slowly pulled it upward, causing him to squirm for very
obvious reasons. He clamped down hard on the noise he would
otherwise have made, but a slightly whining noise still escaped
him. She pushed her hand down again, noticing just how hard he
was gripping the edge of the couch. She removed her hand from the
back of his head, undid the belt of her kimono, pulled it apart
and leaned down to let her breast touch his bare chest. He could
hardly breath properly, but the contact made him release the back
of the couch and run a stiff-fingered hand through her hair.
"Help me with my skirt," she whispered.
     His hand slipped down her back, under the slick silk of the
kimono and fumbled with the button of her skirt for a moment. The
button came off and he pushed the zipper down, every move he made
a jerky one when her hand moved over him. His hand slipped in
under the rougher wool of her skirt, his fingers gliding over the
nylon of her pantyhose. With an effort, he kept his mind on
getting her out of the remaining cloths she was wearing, but it
proved to be much more difficult than he thought. With her help,
though, he managed, and eventually she was sitting up on him,
wearing nothing but her open kimono. She slipped one hand into
the pocket of kimono and withdrew the protection he hadn't
thought off. With warm, experienced fingers she slipped the
condom on him, touching him in a way that made him want to beg
her to get on with it. He bit down hard on his lower lip when she
guided him into her with a cunning he would not have believed she
had. She let him slip into her so slowly it was an almost painful
experience for him. Both his hands closed around her hips, but
would she would not let him take over. She tightened her
abdominal muscles and he was amazed at how strong they were. As
amazed as he could be in his present state of mind. He was unable
to lie back and do nothing any more, so he raised himself up to
kiss her, to let his lips explore her face, her neck, her
breasts. His hands were doing their own exploring up and down her
back, while she moved her hips in rhythmical circle movements,
pulling up and coming down hard with every move. His stomach
muscles rippled in tension as he slowly lowered himself down on
the couch again, pulling her with him. They exchanged hot, moist
kisses for a moment, before he again let his lips slip over her
face. It seemed to go on forever and for every minute that passed
by, he thought he was going to explode. It was almost too much
for him, but he managed to hold back until she began to show
signs of loosing her well-kept control. When she started moaning,
clutching his upper arms in steel grips, he managed to twist them
around on the rather narrow area of the couch until he was on top
of her. Her right leg was draped over the back of the couch, the
other one around his back as he pushed his jeans down a little
further before giving her what he had to give. It was hard, swift
and painfully good and they even managed to come together.
     For what seemed eternity after, he was unable to move, his
face buried in the pillow under her head, his hands wrapped
around her in a possessive manner. Her breathing slowed down from
the almost frantic gasps to a more steady intake and her hands
caressed his back, the back of his head, weaving through his hair
in slow, lazy movements. Then she suddenly stopped moving. With
an effort he raised his head to look into her blue eyes. There
was a certain amount of doubt there, realization of what they
had just done.
     "This isn't so good, is it?" she asked him doubtfully. "We
shouldn't have done this, should we?"
     "Well, there's not much we can do about it now, is there?"
he countered quietly and kissed her worried brow. A deep sigh
escaped him. "I'm sorry."
     The frown remained. "About what?" she asked after a moment.
     "I'm sorry about this. I shouldn't have... you know... given
in. I just... well..." He was trying to explain, but couldn't
find the words.
     A smile spread over her lips. "You think you took advantage
of me because I was drunk, don't you?" she wanted to know and he
nodded. "Well, you didn't. I was quite aware of what I was
doing." She paused, put a hand behind his neck and pulled him
down so she could kiss him. "Will you make me a promise, Fox?"
     "Sure. Anything," he said, not sure what came next.
     "Tomorrow -- or the day after, which ever comes first --
let's return to normal. You know we can't have a relationship for
various reasons. Let's just enjoy this night, okay?" She didn't
know if it was possible. She didn't know if she could keep that
promise herself. She did love him, but up until this evening, she
had -- quite literally -- been in a state of denial. Their
friendship meant the world to her and she wouldn't want to
jeopardize it for anything in the world.
     He thought about it for a moment, looking down into those
beautiful eyes, and knew that he would find it difficult. But he
could get used to it. It would be different, of course. Now that
he knew what feelings she could have for him. Finally, he nodded.
"Okay. I promise," he agreed. He pulled back and sat up, a funny
feeling about the whole thing in his guts. This would positively
be the weirdest relationship he had ever had.
     Scully sat up behind him and wrapped her arms around him.
"Maybe -- now and again -- when we really need it --" she said
against his back, "-- we could -- you know."
     Mulder sat there for a moment, wondering if something like
this was really possible. It felt possible, but he was also
feeling her arms around him. Would he be able to go through
days without this? He had before. He could do so again. He took
one of her hands and kissed the palm of it. "Let's get cleaned up
a bit, huh?"

     A little later, they sat together on the couch again, him
dressed only in his jeans, her only in the kimono. For a while
now, neither of them had spoken and neither made an attempt.
Scully had gotten another bottle of wine and noted that it was
half past one. They had more or less agreed on to call in sick
the following day. He would go home soon and she would go to bed
and they would try to forget this had ever happened. At least for
a while. Mulder's arm was hanging over her shoulder, his
fingertips a mere inch away from her silk-covered right nipple.
The thought hit him so hard, it almost made him gasp. She didn't
notice anything, though. She was starring ahead of herself, lost
in thoughts. A wicked little voice in the back of his head urged
him to do what she had done to him earlier. Most of the surprise
would be gone, though. But, anyway. He shifted the position of
his arm a little and pressed the tip of his index finger against
her nipple. She gasped and loked down at what he was doing for a
second. He slipped the hand inside the kimono and cupped her
breast for a second, then started rubbing his palm against it
lightly. It began to harden instantly and she moaned a little.
She understood the rules of this game they were playing and knew
that since he had not grabbed for her when she had first made a
move on him, she would not do it either. His left hand wandered
over her thigh on top of the silk, then slipped inside, moving up
further between her thighs until his thumb almost touched her. He
leaned in to kiss her neck, the hollow of her shoulder. He pulled
his hand out from between her legs again, having only teased her
for mere seconds, pulled the belt of her kimono open and pushed
it off her shoulders. She shrugged out of it herself and as she
sat there, naked and beautiful, he took her in his arms, got up
and carried her into the bed room. He let her down gently on the
center of the bed, put one knee on either side of her hips and
looked down at her lying there for a moment. Supporting himself
with one hand beside either of her shoulders, he leaned in to
nuzzle the hard nipple of her right breast with the tip of his 
tongue. Gently he closed his teeth over it, barely grazing it,
and she moaned deep in her throat, shifting to move her breast
against his face. His lips closed around the nipple, then he
slowly let them drift deeper, down to her navel. He kissed the
hot skin next to it, briefly let the tip of his tongue touch it
before moving deeper still.
     His chin touched the silky down between her legs and her
moans became a little louder. He shifted one hand to her left
breast and the other one wandered to her thigh just above the
knee, then slowly slipped down, tickling her, making it hard for
her not to try and move against him. Her fingers searched for the
head of the bed, found it and dug in. No matter how much she
wanted to reach for him, she had to hold back a little while
longer. Then his fingers touched her ever so lightly, teasing
with a brushing touch. He ran the tips of  his fingers through
the pubic hair, letting the tip of his middle finger lightly skim
over the cleft in the middle. She sighed, her eyes closed hard,
and had to steel herself not to push against that finger. He
moved it deeper, then pressed his thumb into the hot confines of
her, finding her moist and ready. The tip of his tongue grazed
the cleft, then pushed in between, touching her in a way that
made her moan painfully. She held her breath, a dizzy spell
making her close her eyes hard. He inserted two fingers into her,
moving them around a little while working on her with his tongue
and her moans became whimpering sounds. Still with his fingers
inside her, he shifted upwards again, kissed her belly, while he
opened his jeans and pushed them off. This time all the way. Her
fingers were closed tightly around the head board of the bed and
she was biting her lower lip, chewing on it to keep from
screaming her pleasure out. His index and middle finger moved in
her while his thumb massaged a different spot, making her see
little stars on the inside of her eyelids. He moved up further,
kissing her breasts, lightly biting the tender skin below the
nipples which caused restrained little shrieks from her. Then he
withdrew his fingers, finding himself hard and ready to enter
her, but he paused long enough to put on the condom lying on the
nightstand beside the bed. He briefly wondered where it had come
from, then pushed the thought aside. It didn't matter. Throbbing
hot and painfully hard, he teased her at first, but found that he
couldn't stand it, either. He had the feeling that she liked it
rough, another little thing he had never thought of her, so he
didn't enter her slowly. He put one hand against the small of her
back, raised her up and thrust into her. Within minutes, he was
working hard on satisfying her, finding it painfully hard to hold
back. She was so wonderful, so gorgeous. Her hands finally
released the headboard and slipped around his shoulders, pulling
him down toward her. They kissed hard and long, revelling in each
other, their rhythm increasing, becoming more violent, until they
again came together. Somewhere in the back of his mind that made
him believe they had truly been made for each other.
     Again it took him a long time to regain the ability to move
at all. Then he raised his head, kissed her and glanced briefly
at the alarm clock. He kissed her again, tenderly. For a long
time, they lay together, holding each other, before they got up
to get cleaned up -- once again. Then they went to bed to catch
some sleep before they would decide what to do the following
morning.

     Before the alarm clock rang -- and after it had started
getting light outside -- Mulder had woken up. Scully was sleeping
deeply, her head resting on his chest, her left arm wrapped
almost possessively around him. He starred up at the ceiling,
wondering if they would ever be able to be together for real.
This was a mishap at the best of times and -- despite her idea
from the previous night -- he knew it would not repeat itself.
Not any time soon, anyway. Soon he would get up and go home and
if he knew her right, she would be at work at eight o'clock
sharp. He wouldn't. He would call in sick and consider what had
happened on this night. When he had come to terms with the
impossible element of this situation, he would go to work again
and they would continue as if nothing had happened. That, at
least, was the plan.
     Then the alarm clock rang. Scully muttered under her breath
and raised her head to look at the time. Yawning, she slowly sat
up. "Are you planning on going in today?" she asked without
looking at him.
     "No, I'm not. I'll go home and get some more sleep. You?" he
replied and yawned, too.
     She turned and looked down at him, her expression serious,
her eyes bright. "No, I think I'll stay home, too. I'll just call
Skinner and tell him that you called me and told me you wouldn't
be in and since we're not working on anything right now, I would
like to ask for the day off. Simple, isn't it?"
     "Yeah, simple." He looked up at her, wondering if she would
mind it if he kissed her. He decided not to. He could kiss her
good bye when he left. Anything else was out of the question
right now.
     She offered him breakfast, which he declined. He got dressed
while she rummaged around in the kitchen and when he was about
ready to go, he went out there to tell her he was leaving. Coffee
was brewing and the slightly sweet smell of baking croissants
made his stomach growl. But he would not stay for breakfast. "I'm
gonna go home now," he said.
     She turned around, once again dressed in the kimono, and she
just looked at him for a moment. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow,"
she replied.
     He stepped forward, planted a kiss on her forehead and drew
back again. "Okay. You'll make the call?" he then asked and she
nodded. "Get some more sleep, too, Dana. Now begins the difficult
part of our partnership."
     He turned and headed for the door, but she stopped him
before he could open it. "Fox," she called after him and came up
to him as he turned around. She wrapped both arms around him and
hugged him and he hugged her back. "You're right about that," she
said, leaning back a bit. "Things have changed. No matter what we
pretend. But that doesn't mean that we should jeopardize our
friendship and partnership. Please?"
     With his arms around her, he looked down into her eyes.
"I would rather die than jeopardize that, Dana. Don't worry.
We'll carry on as always. Nobody will notice anything." With
those words, he once again kissed her, this time on the lips,
opened the door and was gone.
     Scully went over to the window and watched him cross the
street to where his car was parked. Before he got in, he briefly
turned and raised a hand in greeting. Then he was gone. She
watched the quiet morning street for a moment, then returned to
the kitchen to have her breakfast. Shortly after, she made the
call to Skinner and he was only too happy to give her the day
off, now that Mulder wasn't feeling too good. He asked her if she
knew whether he would come in the following day and Scully told
him she expected him to, but wasn't certain. And that was that.
The rest of the day she spent doing various little things, trying
not to think too much about what had taken place the night
before. Eventually, she had to face it, though, and when she did,
it brought a smile to her lips.

Mulder slept till way past noon, an undisturbed sleep which had
him wake up refreshed and feeling better than he had in a long
time. He also spent the rest of the day doing little odd-jobs
that needed to be done, but he thought about the happenings of
the previous night all the time. And he smiled most of the time.

                           * * *

Scully was the first to arrive on the day after and she sat down
behind her desk and looked at her computer with a far-away look
in her eyes. She had come to terms with herself and knew that she
could handle this. The question was whether Mulder could. He had
called her last night to just talk. They had talked about the
usual stuff and neither had mentioned their night together. That
was a good sign in her opinion. There had been no tense moments
where they had been at a loss for words. But would it be
different when they met again face to face?
     "Morning, Scully."
     She turned her chair and faced him, smiling a little.
"Morning, Mulder. Late as always, I see," she replied, causing
him to smile.
     "Sorry. It won't happen again." He put his coat on the
hanger behind the door, then sat down on his chair. "Let's see
what the world has in store for us today," he added and started
sifting through the files on his desk.
     Scully watched him for a moment. "Okay. Let's," she replied.
     The balance had been restored and though their one night
together had changed something, it wasn't for the worse. The only
thing anybody else noticed was that they had grown a little
closer, but that was what everybody expected. More or less. They
kept teasing each other like they always had, Scully still didn't
believe half of Mulder's theories and Mulder kept trying to
convince her. All was back to normal.... or was it?