* * * *

My eyes were still adjusting to the light, squinting slightly at the sudden
intrusion. I glanced at my watch and discovered that it's almost 2:30am. I
hadn't even remembered falling asleep on his couch.

I had walked past him on my way to the bathroom, a necessity for the fact
that it is off of his bedroom. His large form was curled under the blankets
in a quiet slumber and I tiptoed softly so as not to wake him.

With the door closed behind me and silence filling every square inch of
the small room, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Despite the early
hour, I looked refreshed. I looked happy. I suddenly couldn't see the
wrinkles on my face from frowning, from crying. I couldn't see the tired
look and often-present bags under my eyes. And I smiled.

I almost went back to Daniel.

The thought hit me square in the chest and erased the smile from my face.
For a moment, a single moment that now seems so long ago, it felt right. I
felt his love for me; I felt it in the air and I felt it in his touch. We
are governed by the choices we make and had I uttered a single word, had
I made a different choice, I would be with him right now.

But something stopped me. And as I stood here and let the smile return, I
knew I made the right decision.

* * * *

I woke suddenly, the nightmare itself gone, but the rapid beat of my heart
evidence of its existence. Sitting up, I swung my legs over the side of the
bed and leaned my elbows on my knees. I scrubbed my face with my hands
and forced myself to wake up a little more, then rose and headed to the
bathroom. But I was forced to a sudden stop when I saw the brilliant outline
of the closed door, the small measure of light creeping out and casting a
warm glow over part of my bedroom.

Scully.

The floorboards creaked slightly under my feet as I walked back and sat on
the bed again, watching the door in anticipation of her exit. It felt
inexplicably right for her to be there, in my bathroom, in the middle of the
night.

"Mulder?" she called out softly.

"Yeah," I assured her. "Take your time, Scully."

"Could you come here?" she said, an edge of uncertainty in her voice.

I stood up and walked over immediately, knocking gently on the door to
announce my entrance. When my eyes fell upon hers, it was through the
reflection of them in the mirror above the sink. She was as still as a
statue, her gaze unwavering, arms hanging at her sides and palms flat
against the sides of her thighs.

"Are you alright?" I asked her carefully, moving up until I was almost
touching her body with my own from behind.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep," she said simply.

"It's okay," I told her and brought my hands up to rest on the warmth of her
upper arms. "It's not the first time a woman has fallen asleep while I'm
talking."

She grinned at my self-deprecation and at once the air in the small room
lifted to a more comfortable level. She leaned back into me and I welcomed
her less-substantial weight with open arms. I snaked my arms around her
little waist and pulled her to me until the space between us existed only in
microscopic terms. She relaxed in my embrace and brought her arms up to
rest around mine. I felt her cool skin against my warmer skin and shivered
slightly.

"You're cold," I said unnecessarily.

"A little," she agreed.

I stared at our reflections in the mirror and was amazed once again by just
how small Scully is. With her heels are off, as they were then, the top of
her head comes to just below my chin, which was resting on the top of said
head. Her black skirt and matching jacket slimmed her already tiny frame
and the green shirt she wore complimented her pale skin with precision. Her
hair, deeper in color that when I first knew her, was mussed from her sleep
and hung less than perfectly around her round face, creating an image of
pure loveliness before me.

"What would you have done if I had gone back to Daniel?" she asked me then,
snapping me awake from my visual reverie.

"You wouldn't have," I told her after some pregnant contemplation.

"You're so sure," she said, a bit startled.

"Please don't take this the wrong way," I explained. "But yes. I am. You're
a different person now than you were when you were with him. You're a
different person now than when you first met me. Priorities shift and
desires change. From what you've told me, this man would marry you and take
care of you and as much as you may have wanted that in the past, I can't see
the Dana Scully standing in front of me being 'taken care of' by anyone.
You've seen and done too much to submit to the kind of relationship I presume
you would have with him."

"You presume quite a bit then, Agent Mulder," she retorted with an edge of
irritation in her voice. "I like to be 'taken care of' just as much as the
next person. And doing so doesn't mean I have to let go of who I am now or
who I was in the past."

"Then why are you here with me instead of with him?"

* * * *

The challenge in his voice was enough to make want to turn around and sock
him in the face. He loved to make me squirm and was doing an exceptionally
good job of it at this moment. My rational self wanted to chalk it up to the
late hour and residue of our conversation from the night before. However,
my rational self had had a complete overhaul in the last few days and didn't

know its head from its ass. Before I could even think about it, the words
came out of my mouth.

"We both know why I'm here, Mulder."

He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and the air around us suddenly became
charged with anticipation. His breathing became shallow as I began to move
within his arms, my hands running along the length of his limbs in small,
yet firm caresses.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered into my ear, causing me to jump in
surprise. I hadn't realized his lips were so close to my ear and the warmth
of his breath on that sensitive skin gave me gooseflesh over my entire body.

His hands had moved now and were resting low on my hips, his thumbs making
circles on the small of my back. A wave of heat covered me, squelching the
goosebumps and replacing them with a deep red blush. The ache between my
legs refused to go unnoticed any longer and I involuntarily squeezed my
thighs together in an effort to ease some of the discomfort. Mulder, as
perceptive as ever, noticed my movement right away.

"You're not cold anymore," he stated.

I shook my head in agreement and shrugged out of his embrace just long
enough to remove my suit jacket and return to my leaning position against
him. He smiled at me in the mirror and his hands resumed their position,
each finger moving now in a uniform dance of circles, shifting ever so
slightly until the tips of his longest fingers reached the spot just below my
bellybutton. Even through the layers -panties, pantyhose, and skirt - I knew
he could feel the heat radiating from just below.

Sounds of heavy and hesitant breathing surrounded us then and our eyes were
once again locked through our reflections. He was the picture of control,
hands steady and body relaxed. But I could feel his heart beating in his
chest and I could see the single bead of sweat trail down his forehead as he
struggled for that control.

I wanted to see how far he'd go; I wanted to see how far I'd go.

I moved my pelvis forward, forcing more contact from him. We groaned
simultaneously as the slender digits of his right hand smoothed down over my
crotch. He pulled back up at an agonizingly slow speed, then back down
again, pushing just a little further. Up and down, up and down until he had
shifted my legs apart and his whole hand could stroke me and cup me.

Newton's Third Law of Motion: For every action, there is an equal and
opposite reaction.

I shamelessly began to hump my partner's hand. I put my whole body into it,
bending at the knees and pushing myself even further into his touch. I even
went as far as to place my hand over his and help him. All sense and
rational went out the window as I felt each swell of pleasure and before I
knew it, I was feeling his skin against mine beneath my layers of clothes.
He was hesitant, but my inhibitions were lost and I guided his hand down to
meet my aching sex.

No matter what, it was too late to turn back now.

* * * *

It was as if she had been holding her breath for hours and was finally
allowed to let it out as I slid my index and middle fingers along her slick
folds. Her head fell back on my shoulder and I watched as her eyelids became
heavy and a light shade of pink heat flowed up her neck and onto her face.

Webster's New World Dictionary defines beauty as the quality attributed to
whatever pleases or satisfies the senses or mind. I made a mental note to
write them and tell them they were wrong; the definition of beauty is Dana
Scully.

With her head back and neck now exposed, I couldn't help myself and dipped
my head down to taste her skin. I kissed her neck first, softly so as not to
startle her, but it wasn't long before my tongue darted out to get a real
taste. I latched on and refused to let go, my lips, tongue, and teeth marking her
as their own. The faint aroma of Dove soap and citrus lotion met my sense of
smell and it aroused me even further, the sweet smells a subsequent invitati
on.

My work was interrupted, however, by her insistent push of my head toward
the direction of her mouth, and I latched onto her wanting lips with fervor.
I ground my growing erection into her bottom as our tongues met,
searching and wanting, promising and loving. It was an awkward angle, though
before long she turned to face me, my hand begrudgingly leaving the
enveloping warmth of her, and we were making our way to my bed. Each
remaining article of clothing wass shed as we sauntered over, mouths never
parting even for a split second. I had an overwhelming fear that if we
stopped then and realized the mammoth consequences our actions could have,
we would part ways and never truly admit how much we wanted this. She had
me; she owned me, heart and soul. I wanted her to have my body as well.

I fell onto my back and took her along with me, her grip so tight around my
body. I had every intention of making it last, making it soft and
wonderful so she will feel how much I want her. But the determined look in
her eye told me that she wanted something different and her feverish hands
as she wrapped them around my erection told me she wanted to be in control.
I didn't stop her from guiding herself on top of me until I was sheathed in
her body, and I didn't stop her when her hips started to move against me at
a hurried pace. She moved to place her forehead on my shoulder, but I caught
her face in my hands and brought her eyes up to mine.

Her eyes were dark and stormy, a melting pot of emotions flowed through them
and out at me. I saw desire and I saw lust. I saw love. And I saw fear. I
placed my lips on hers in a soft, reassuring kiss, hoping with all hope that
she knew I was just as scared as she was. But when I leaned back again, the
foreboding remained. She rocked harder against me and I felt my climax on
the horizon and I was consumed by the feeling. I grabbed her hips and helped
her move faster, the familiar sensation of impending release forcing my
fingers to dig into the flesh of her hips.

She cried out, her voice so loud in the silence of the room and I took that
as my cue. I expelled myself into her and went rigid, a descent of
involuntary thrusts following until everything but my beating heart was
still. She had collapsed down on top of me, her head resting atop my right
shoulder. Her body heaved as she breathed deeply, waiting for both of our
pulses to return to a normal beat. Wordlessly, we crawl to the pillows and
slowly allowed sleep to take us over.

I wanted to say something to her. Anything. I wanted to tell her how
wonderful I felt. I wanted to tell her that she's amazing. I wanted to tell
her that I love her. But something stopped me and I let the silence reign.

* * * *

He woke me up again during the night. I don't know what time it was, but the
sky was still dark and the streets still quiet. I almost pretended not to
wake; my dreams were filled with uncertainty and anxiety, so I was certain
that consciousness would have little to offer.

But he was persistent. And loving, his mouth trailing kisses from my neck to
my shoulder, between the valley of my breasts to the flat of my belly.
Somewhere between sleep and awake, I lay there and let him make love to me.
He was gentle and soft, so careful to pleasure me in every way possible. I
didn't orgasm the previous time and perhaps he knew that. Either way, he
wanted it to be about me at that point in time and it brought out an emotion
in me that I can't describe in words. I cradled him between my open legs and
let him enter me once again, my ears paying attention to every soft grunt
that came out of his mouth.

I climaxed hard and he rode it out with me, steadying my trembling thighs
with one hand as the other supported him above me. The moonlight shining in
from the window was the only source of light, but it was bright enough for
me to see the ecstasy on his face as he came inside me again. A tear escaped
my eye and ran down my temple and into my hair. He fell back down to my side
and gathered me up in his arms, falling asleep again just minutes later.

And now, as I look down on him as morning breaks, I feel another tear
threaten to spill over my lashes. He's sprawled out on his back, the cool
sheets covering the lower half of his rested body. He's a beautiful sight
like this and it takes more willpower than I know I had to strip down again
and join him in his contentment. Instead, I enter the bathroom and stand in
front of the mirror. The smell of us lingers in the air and I struggle not
to let it enter my consciousness. I observe the slight bags under my eyes
from the short night of sleep as well as the slight frown upon my lips.

'I can't do this.'

The reasons are so numerous that it's simply easier to just leave it at
that.

I stare for what seems like hours before I move to leave, part of me hoping
he'll wake up and make me stay. I grab my jacket as I leave and make every
effort not to look anywhere but right in front of me.

He's all I want in this world anymore, but I can't allow it. And I can't
allow myself to admit that I'm scared by it. So I'll go home and shower,
bring breakfast to the office -- a doughnut for him and a bagel for me - and
we'll go about our lives as if nothing happened between us.

That is, after all, what we do best.

* * * *

Verses from "You" by Moby:

In my life I dream about you
Well in my dream I need only you
You're everything everything I wanted too
I met my love and it was you you you
My love
In my life I dream about you
Well if I'd sleep I'd see only you
You're everything everything I wanted you
I need my loving falling from you
You're love