Keywords: None. XxXxXxXxXxX Chapter Four XxXxXxXxXxX Asleep against the side of the plane, Scully had been shifting like sand since take-off, so it took him longer than usual to notice her distress. She yelped, twitching under the blanket, and Mulder lowered the journal he'd been reading. It did not occur to him right away to wake her. He stared at the fine tremor of her hand, the wrinkle of her brow. The painful, private vision held him captive. She'd been pulled away again, back to that awful place, and this was as close as he was ever going to get. The magazine pages crinkled in his grip. Scully let out a small, choked sob, and the sound jolted him from his stasis. He reached out and stroked her cheek with his fingers, surprised to find her skin damp. "Scully," he murmured, leaning towards her. "Wake up." She shot bolt upright, gulping in air, one hand stretched outward as if to steady herself. The blanket slipped to the floor. "Easy," he told her as she twisted in her seat, looking wildly around the plane. "You're okay." She let out a long breath. "What time is it?" "Uh, almost five. We'll be landing soon." She groped for her blanket, ducking away from him, and he leaned back to watch her struggle in the narrow space between the seats. When she surfaced with pinkened cheeks and hair askew, he detected a faint quiver as she placed the cover primly across her knees and settled back in her chair. "Stop looking at me like that." She smoothed her hair behind her ears with both hands. He didn't turn his head away. "Like what?" "I'm fine, Mulder." When he didn't say anything, she looked at him, defiant. "I am. It's just a dream." The strong sun coming in the windows showed the tear stains on her cheeks. He reached out and traced one trail. "I just want to know that you're okay." "I said I was." "Okay," he said gently, agreeing with her. This only seemed to make her more upset. "I don't know what you want me to say, Mulder. You've already decided that I'm not okay, and I don't know how to prove otherwise. I know you think it's horrible. I know that. But women--" She stopped and started over. "It happens every day all over the world, and women just go on. I think it's all you can do." He looked at her for a long moment. "You don't have to prove anything to me, Scully." "Quit waiting for me to fall apart." "I'm not." She glared at him, and then jerked a magazine free from the pouch in front of her and flipped it open. Dismissed, Mulder turned away and sighed. He wondered if he had any Tylenol in his carryon. Scully angrily turned pages to his right. Mulder closed his eyes. "It happened," she said after some time. "But it doesn't have to mean everything." He still didn't look at her. "No. But it doesn't mean nothing, either." Scully did not reply. She went back to reading, turning her pages quietly now giving him his answer louder than words ever could. A storm brewing over Houston rocked their plane as it made its descent into the clouds. Harried flight attendants took their seats early, and the passengers gripped their armrests as the plane bumped and pitched. At last, the pilot brought them down safely, to scattered applause, and Mulder watched Scully release her breath. They fetched their bags with everyone else, picked up their rental car, and drove off under the dark, rolling sky. Beabout, Texas, was a three-hour drive from the city, but Mulder and Scully stopped for dinner after two. Their choices right off the exit consisted of fast food, the dining room of the Palmer Inn, and a Bar & Grill with three motorcycles parked out front. "Inn?" Mulder asked, and jerked his thumb at the drive-thru burger joint. "Or out?" Scully squinted out the windshield at the Bar & Grill. "I could really use a beer," she said, and so she and Mulder joined the motorcycle brigade. Inside, the place was dark but not as smoky as he had expected. The low-ceilinged room was divided between a dining room filled with black-lacquered furniture and a bar with a dozen or so stools, most of which were occupied. Baseball played on the TV, and Mulder answered its siren call while Scully saw about a table. "Mulder, come on," she called. "Yeah, just a sec." He watched as The Big Unit struck out the batter swinging. Ambling back across, he paused at the refrigerator-sized jukebox. There was some room for dancing, but no one was on the floor. Mulder rattled the change in his pocket but did not make a selection. Scully already had her menu and water glass in front of her. He took his seat and scanned the beer list. Their waiter let them sit there for a good five minutes before he showed up, scratchpad in hand. "You know what you want?" Mulder did a double take. Bald head. Wire-rimmed glasses. The man was in his mid-forties and could have been Skinner's long-lost brother. "Mulder?" Scully prompted him. He ordered a burger and a pint of Guinness. "Scully... Scully..." He leaned across the table as the Skinner wannabe walked away. Scully was busy rummaging though her purse and did not look up. "Scully!" "What?" "Does our waiter remind you of anyone?" She stopped rummaging and looked in the direction the waiter had gone. "No. Why?" "C'mon. When he asked what I was having, I wanted to say 'a stack of 302s, medium rare.'" She pulled out a tissue and used it to wipe her fork. "What are you talking about, Mulder?" He leaned back in his seat, exasperated. "Just look closer when he comes back. You'll see." The man returned with the beer. "Here you go," he said, low and gruff. Mulder looked meaningfully at Scully, who looked confused. Then her eyes widened. "Mulder!" she said as the waiter walked away. "See? Skinner in an apron!" She laughed and sneaked another look across the room. "God, Mulder. I feel... I feel..." "Yes?" he asked, deepening his voice. "Like I've been caught out past curfew by my father." Mulder did his best Skinner impression. "Agent Scully, could I please see you in my kitchen? I have some questions about the Speigelman barbecue report." "Stop," she said, but she was still smiling. "Behave." He grinned and nudged her under the table. "The victim was a small ground fowl weighing about six pounds. Head and feet were removed, possibly to avoid identification--" "Mulder!" When the man returned with their food, Scully wouldn't look at him or Mulder. She kept her eyes focused in front of her as the waiter put her burger down. "Medium?" he asked, and Scully answered with a tiny nod. Her mouth twitched but she did not break. "Yes, thank you," she managed. Mulder could practically hear her swallow "Sir." He grinned and she kicked him under the table. The waiter did not crack a smile. "Well done," he said as he set Mulder's food down. He pulled a ketchup bottle out of his apron pocket, put it on the table between them, and went on his way. Scully began silent, mirthful convulsions as soon as the waiter's back was turned. Mulder leaned across the table and egged her on in a barely- controlled whisper. "Well done," he said. "Words I never thought I would hear from that mouth." Scully leaned forward. "Mulder, you're terrible." "Ah," he said, "now *that* would be more typical." She shook her head as she tapped the end of the ketchup bottle. "Skinner must like you more than you think if he authorized this trip." Mulder sobered, remembering his conversation with Skinner about their latest 302. Skinner had spent much longer looking at the file than the scant information required while Mulder stood in front of him awaiting judgment. "Texas," he'd said at last. "That's pretty far away." "Maybe that's a good thing," Mulder had answered, and Skinner had signed off without another word. "We've pursued cases on less," he told Scully now. "Yes, and that is why -- to borrow your analogy -- in Skinner's eyes, we will always be 'medium rare.'" "I prefer just 'rare,'" he said, and that earned him another smile. As they ate, the volume went up on the jukebox. The Stones wailed about the Devil, and a few people gathered around to study other selections. Dire Straits did the "Walk of Life'; Fleetwood Mac would never break the chain. The lights dimmed and some more people got up to dance, including one youngster in a cowboy hat who just made circles around the floor. Couples paired off, heat rising in the room from the sudden increase in bodies. Mulder felt the tingle of beer in his veins. He eyed Scully across the table, but she was watching the shadowed twist of dancers. "It's a marvelous night for a moon dance," Van Morrison sang, vibrating the air with invitation. Mulder looked at Scully again. "Scully?" "Hmm?" She turned her attention to him. He wiped his palms on his pants. "You, um, want to?" he asked as he jerked his head towards the makeshift dance floor. "Oh!" She blinked and then looked back at the dancers. "Mulder, we can't." He wiggled in his seat. "Speak for yourself, G-woman." Scully gave him a wistful look and shook her head. "Mulder, no. Who knows if we might end up having to question one of those people tomorrow?" His pulse slackened, losing the beat, and he leaned back in his chair. "Yeah," he said eventually, "Yeah, I guess you're right." "It's a marvelous night to make romance," Van Morrison crooned. Scully set her napkin on her plate, the sign that she was ready to go. "It's your turn to pay," she said. "Make sure to get the receipt this time." Mulder dug out his credit card. Just remember, he thought, that I asked. XxX The road to rural Beabout was a straight shot through the middle of absolutely nothing. Electricity gathered in the air, quivering the trees as they flashed by in the glare of the Taurus's headlights. If either had believed in the power of omens, they might have turned back: thunder cracked open the sky, releasing a torrential downpour, just as Mulder drove over a nail in the road and shot out their rear right tire. He cursed as the car wobbled to the side of the road. Scully already had the dome light on and was digging in the glove compartment. "There might be a number in here to call for assistance." "Yeah, I'm sure they're going to hurry out to help us in this mess." Rain beat down against the roof. "We'll be out here all night. I'll just change the damn thing and be done with it." "Mulder, it's pitch black and pouring." "So come hold the umbrella and the flashlight." This was how they ended up stopped along a muddy shoulder, crouched by their grimy car as rain blew sideways under Scully's umbrella. Mulder changed the tire in less than fifteen minutes, but it was long enough for their clothes to stick like second skin. Despite his experiences wrestling in bile and being digested by a giant fungus, walking around in wet underwear still ranked in Mulder's top five most uncomfortable sensations. Bow-legged, he trooped back to the car and ignored the water that oozed from his shoe as he stepped on the accelerator again. Scully blotted ineffectually at her neck with a Dairy Queen napkin. At the motel, they both stumbled into the room on the first floor. Ownership could be decided later. First, there were towels. Scully tossed him two large ones and disappeared with her bag into the bathroom. Mulder stripped off his wet clothes, rubbed the terry cloth over his clammy skin, and put on some dry sweats. Behind the closed door, Scully's hair dryer whirred to life. Mulder sat on the hard mattress and began toweling off his naked feet. Scully emerged a few minutes later dressed in white pajamas, the damp ends of her red hair tickling her shoulders. Behind her, he could see pantyhose dangling from the shower bar and figured this meant Scully had staked out her territory. She fixed him with her serious Dr. Scully look. "Mulder, you're still wet." It was true. Water trickled down behind his ear. "I'm dry where it counts," he replied, and picked up the towel to rub his head. "Here," she said, and fetched her blow dryer from the bathroom. She plugged it in the wall and stretched the curly-Q cord across the room. Standing between his legs, she switched the dryer on and went to work on his hair. The shock of hot air tightened his scalp and warmed the tips of his ears. Scully's lips parted as she concentrated. When she assessed her progress by running small, strong fingers through his hair, it was all he could do not to squirm with pleasure. She leaned forward, and he could see down her pajama top to the feathered shadow between her breasts. She smelled like satin and powder and rain. At last, she switched off the dryer. "Better," she pronounced as the roar still rang in his ears. She rested her hand on his head and smiled a little. "Better," he agreed. "Thank you." She didn't move away, so he tentatively stroked her hip through her pajamas. Her fingers toyed in his hair as they stared at one another. Scully's eyes darkened, the color of his fantasy, but his arousal mixed with fear. It can't be, he thought. Not this soon. "Scully-" "Shhh." Her hand slid down so that her fingers stilled his lips. She caressed his cheek with her thumb, and his protest died away. Scully leaned down so their mouths brushed, their first real kiss since it happened, and Mulder had to grab her waist to keep from trembling. He was a Japanese lantern, lit up and warm inside but fragile at the skin. She kissed him lingeringly, her full mouth persuading his into a gentle dance. The wet ends of her hair tickled his face and he was lost. Mulder held her with both hands, stroking her back as she pressed even closer. Her tongue was in his mouth and her hand did a slow rub across his shoulder. Just a little more, he thought through the haze. I can still stop. He touched his tongue to hers and was rewarded with a muffled snort against his cheek. She tasted the same, like warm mint. He felt a corresponding flare of heat in his pants. Scully wiggled closer, bumping the bed as she tried to feel him, but Mulder kept her away from his erection. He didn't want her to feel obligated in any way. Scully broke the kiss, breathless. "Mulder," she said against his hairline. "I have to tell you something." His hands roamed her back. "It's okay, Scully." He could stop with kissing. He could. "We... we have to use a condom." Mulder tensed. "What?" She had stiffened too, but she gripped him tight. "Just to be safe. The first tests came back clean, but I have to repeat the one for HIV at least one more time to be sure. I know it's not ideal, but until I know that everything's okay, I don't want to put you at any risk." His mind was still absorbing this new information, but his first instinct was to soothe her. "Shh, Scully," he said, hugging her. "It's all right. It's not a big deal. We can pick some up later." She kissed his head. "I have. I mean I did." "Already?" She pulled back and searched his face. "Is that okay?" Truthfully, he was a little unnerved. In between the bouts of tears and the nightmares, she had been shopping for condoms? "Um, of course. Of course it's okay." He kissed her collarbone and felt her heart pounding. "Good." She relaxed some in his arms. Her hands stroked his ribs and her lips found his again. Mulder held her close and kissed her with all the reassurance he could muster. I love you, Scully. I'm so sorry this happened to you, Scully. But Scully didn't want comfort. She wanted him on his back on the bed. Mulder ignored his anxiety and went along, allowing her to push him down and crawl up next to him. She sighed into his mouth, pointed little tongue making it hard for him to think. One silky leg slipped between his. "Scully," he said when he could talk, "are you sure?" He stroked the hair off her face. "It's not too soon?" She frowned. "I'm fine, Mulder." His skin rippled from head to toe as she rubbed her thigh on his leg. Okay, he thought, if she is fine then it must be all right. He kissed her forehead, her eye, her nose, but Scully took his head between her hands and guided him back to her mouth. While they kissed, she stroked his ears until he was humming into her mouth. His heart thudded erratically, excited the way it sometimes was just before he threw up, but his erection strained against his cotton sweatpants. He felt dizzy, out of control. Scully was grinding her lower body against him. "Mulder, please," she whispered. He bore down on her, tried to give her what she wanted. Scully tugged his shirt over his head, and he cooperated. The sudden cool air made goose bumps break out across his back. Touch her, his brain commanded, and somehow he worked his hand beneath her top to her breasts. Soft, familiar and new at the same time, Mulder's tension eased a bit as he caressed one swollen peak. She was hot, hard; she wanted this. He could give it to her. He focused on the tender nipple between his fingers. Scully panted, squirming beneath him. She reached into his pants and he jerked his hips back as if burned. "Mulder?" He kissed her again, slow and deep. Her legs wrapped around him. When she pulled her mouth from his and looked up at him, her face was flushed, lips parted and red. Her eyes had gone from blue to black. He had her pinned with his full weight. *I can make you.* "Mulder," she said again, pleading this time. He couldn't breathe. He saw her trapped with her legs spread, eyes dark with fear. Gasping, he rolled off her and scrambled from the bed. Scully sat up. "Mulder, what's wrong?" "I can't," he said shaking his head. Her expression went from puzzled to bruised. "Oh." She hugged herself. "No, it's not like that. It's not." "You don't have to explain, Mulder." She got up from the bed and headed for the bathroom. Horror and panic chased each other around in his head. "It's not you, Scully. Wait, listen." "Mulder, I said it was fine," she said over her shoulder. He watched her gather up her wet clothes. "I just think about what happened to you, and even though I know this is different, I just--" He broke off as she pushed by him with her clothes still dripping on the carpet. "Where are you going?" "To my room." Her voice was tight and controlled. "This is your room." He walked to her, touched her arms from behind, but she shrugged him off and continued packing viciously. "No, this is your room," she told him. "Please don't go. Not like this. I--I... We can try again." She shot him a look that chilled his spine. Her suitcase refastened, she grabbed the other room key and walked to the door. Mulder felt like a toad. He'd hurt her, and now she was going out in the dark, rainy night wearing just her pajamas. "Scully," he said, his voice thick as he blocked her exit. "Please let me explain." She looked at the floor. "You have. You're not ready. It's fine, Mulder. Really. Just let me go." He slumped. "At least let me be the one to go. You can stay here." "I don't want to stay another minute in this room," she whispered. Mulder stepped aside. What could he say to that? Rain swept in when she opened the door. He stood at the threshold, getting wet all over again as he watched her march down the path to the stairs. He stood there even after he heard the upstairs door slam. When at last he shut himself again inside the dull, quiet room, there was no one there to dry his tears. XxXxXxXxX End chapter four. All feedback welcome syn_tax6@yahoo.com