Archive: Yes! Please let me know where.

Category: V

Keyword: SSR, Post-ep

Spoilers: Triangle Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Characters within are the property of CC, 1013, Fox, etc.

Summary: A change of heart that's been a long time coming. "Triangle" post-ep and my first SSR. Pure sap here.

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You see -- I've long since had a change of heart.

It's hard to tell what triggered it exactly. It was long before I
knew the warmth of his lips when I gave him that spontaneous
kiss in the elevator. I think it comes from something deeper,
something rooted in years of trust and admiration.

But it's more than that, and nothing that can be wrapped up with
a pretty bow. The answer will not come easily, nor do I want it
to. I'm no longer interested in dangling at the end of Fox
Mulder's string, waiting for him to figure it all out. I'm no
longer content to waste myself while he carries on with his head
in the clouds, in a file, in Agent Fowley's lap. I'm not the young,
naive woman I used to be.

I'm not sure I want this feeling to go away. It's powerful stuff,
and I'm so scared that analyzing it will only serve to dismantle
the wonderful sensations. The magnificent, blissful feeling of
being in love.

Dana Scully, in love.

And herein lies the problem. Because the man I'm in love with
is my boss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Several days after our return to DC, I settle back into my usual
routine. Work, shower, eat, read, sleep. Usually, I unwind with
little effort. Leaving non-pressing work issues at the office is
imperative to my sanity, so tonight I decide to focus all my
energy on a hot bubble bath and a good book.

Surrounded by fragrant bubbles, I attempt to read this page for
the third time. My eyes skim over the words, but nothing
absorbs. What's wrong with me? The butterflies pounding their
wings like little jackhammers inside my belly remind me -- it's
Skinner. And Mulder.

Why do I feel guilty about this? I never promised myself to my
partner. I waited patiently for four long years. He has Diana
Fowley. I need to stop doing this to myself -- falling for
unavailable men. Mulder consorts with the enemy, then has the
nerve to tell me he's in love with me; Skinner's my boss. I sigh.
My boss and nothing more. I force myself for the millionth time
to admit that a relationship with my superior is unlikely, not to
mention detrimental to both our jobs.

An insistent rap on the door causes me to jump in surprise,
splashing water over the rim of the tub. Damnit, it has to be
Mulder. I can never have a moment's peace. Wrapping a robe
around my bubble-coated body, I plod irritably to the front
door. A peek out the peephole reveals a nervous looking
Skinner.

This is strange. I can't recall him ever coming to my apartment
before.

Opening the door, I greet him with a small smile.

"Agent Scully," he nods, then pushes his way inside.

"Sir." I can honestly say I've never seen him pace before. The
gesture is odd, totally out of place with his usual cool and
commanding demeanor.

"We need to have a little talk, Agent," he begins. My heart
constricts. Is he going to reprimand me for my embarrassing
behavior in the elevator? God, how humiliating.

"Of course. Please, take a seat."

He sits at one end of my couch and I take my place at the other,
making sure my robe is pulled tight. He stares at me for a
moment, as if unsure of what to say.

"I pulled you from your bath, Scully. I apologize," he points at
my upswept hair and looks down at the frothy patch of bubbles
clinging to my leg.

I smile at him, despite the mounting tension between us. "That's
alright, Sir. What was it we needed to discuss?"

His mouth opens, then shuts it quickly and he turns his face
away. Is he blushing? I'm not sure what to make of this. This
*must* have something to do with my actions the other day, but
I'm having trouble reading him. Is he mad? Irritated? In his
mind, is this like a schoolgirl crush he has to squash delicately?
God, how did things get so convoluted.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, I speak up. "Sir, I'd like
to apologize for my inappropriate behavior the other day." It
kills me to say it, but I can't go on with these -- unfortunate
feelings dictating my every move, my every thought. The
sooner I remedy this situation, the faster I'll be able to move on.

He stares at me for a beat and again, I'm not sure how to
interpret his expression. I see fear and disappointment and
maybe even -- hope? Like a flash, it's gone.

Rising, he looks at the floor and mutters, "I should go. I
apologize for interrupting your evening." He walks briskly to
my door. No, this isn't right. I have to stop him. I can't shake
the feeling that we're passing up a monumental moment here.

"Sir?" I quickly rush to join his side. He turns around, unable to
meet my eyes. "If you want to walk out of here and ignore what
happened between us, that's fine. If it's easier for you to dismiss
what I did as a passing moment of gratitude and never mention
it again, I'll understand. But -- I don't think I can do the same."
My words startle him, I can tell. I don't blame him -- they're
scaring the hell out of me. I won't, *can't* think about where
the strength to do this is coming from. If I do, I swear to God
I'll stop. "I don't *want* to do the same."

His expression softens, smoothing out the frown he wore just
moments before and his voice takes on a tender quality that
warms me all over. "Scully, you can't know what you're asking.
It just can't happen."

Yes, I know this. It's crazy, complete insanity. It'll never work
for a thousand reasons. And you know what? I don't care.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I stand on my tiptoes and
look into his soulful eyes. "I want to try. I want to give *us* a
try."

Please, please take that leap with me. I don't think I can stand
another day without you now that I know. My eyes must convey
these thoughts because before I know what's happening, he's
swooping down on my lips, capturing them between his own in
the sweetest, most gentle kiss I've ever received. It's the same
softness and warmth I remember from the all too brief kiss we
shared in the elevator, the same tenderness I've dreamt about
ever since that day. His hands move to unclasp the claw clip
holding my hair up, tangling in my newly fallen hair as he
drinks me in. It's making me lightheaded. For the first time in a
very long time, I feel alive.

And God, do I love this man. I don't know how I ever thought I
could sit across from his desk for the next indeterminate years
of my life and deny it. When the kiss ends, I slide one hand
from his forearm to grasp his hand.

"I love you. I need you to know that," he tells me.

I can feel my grin spread over my face even as my skin flushes
with heat.

Leading him to the bedroom, I feel -- perfect. I don't think I've
ever felt like this before. This is right. This is exactly the way it
should be -- no complicated personal issues to block the way,
no mixed signals. No games. Just us.

Tomorrow and all its problems can take care of itself. For
tonight, I'm going to be happy.

Completely, sublimely happy.

~ The End ~