Keywords: None. XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX Chapter Fourteen XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX They sat on Mulder's couch talking as the hour grew late and the sunshine dissolved in a sepia melt across the walls. Scully tucked her legs under her skirt, nyloned toes sticking out as Mulder lounged against the other end of the sofa. The Indian summer breeze wafted in through the open windows. Mulder served iced tea in tall glasses. He told her a little bit more about his adventure in New Orleans: "Rentham said the men in charge didn't want to let him go. I think... I think they may have murdered his wife." "Did he explain what his role was in the testing?" She waited, tense, remembering the tingle of Rentham's hand on hers. Mulder hesitated just a beat. "No. He didn't have a chance." Later, she told him about seven little girls whom she had reassembled like jigsaw puzzles: "Eames said he gave up the bodies so he will have a clean conscience. Mulder, I don't know how you could ever relieve the weight of all those bones." "At least now their families can have peace," he said. "That's something." "I guess," she said, trying to believe it. "I saw some of the families at the burial sites, Mulder. They looked anything but peaceful." "Peace will come later," he replied, and she wondered if he still saw Samantha every time he looked up at the stars. At dusk, Mulder fetched another round of tea from the kitchen and returned with a silver bowl full of pretzels. He set the bowl between them and propped his feet on the coffee table. "So," he said. "How did it go today?" "Okay." "Yeah?" "Well, the X-files have always made for good courtroom drama." He winced. "I was worried about that." "Don't," she said easily. "It wasn't that bad. Bellamy can mock me all she likes, but in the end, the evidence will speak for itself." She paused. "That's thanks to you." Mulder looked embarrassed as he studied the ice cubes in his glass. "I'm just sorry I couldn't have been there." The words needled at her, making her flush, and she searched herself to figure out why they bothered her so much. Mulder was just being kind. "I'm sorry about that," he mumbled again, and she had her answer: since the rape, Mulder had been apologizing to her almost every time he opened his mouth. "Mulder..." She shifted so her position mirrored his, shoulder-to-shoulder with their feet on the table. "You know what happened to me wasn't your fault, right?" "I know that," he said too quickly. "Because I would hate for you to think that." "I don't." She watched him sideways while he swallowed several gulps of tea. It occurred to her that, in four months, she had never once asked him how he felt about what had happened. The thought that she could ask him now, and worse, that he might answer her, made her pulse spike. Her arms and legs became rubbery. "Mulder, what do you think?" He froze with the glass at his lips. "Huh?" "About what happened." She steeled herself. "About the rape." "I think it's horrible, Scully. You know I would give anything to change what happened to you." "Yes, but I mean aside from that." Mulder looked at her as though she were laying a trap. "I don't know what you mean," he said carefully. Her heart slammed against her ribs like one of those caged nightclub dancing girls. "You can tell me the truth," she said. "Really. I know the images you must have. I know it must be-" She faltered. "Off-putting. I can understand that, I can." "What? God, Scully. No." He set down his tea and faced her. "Mulder, please. You don't have to protect my feelings on this. I know we're supposed to be enlightened and modern about the whole ordeal, but truly, it's *not* just like being mugged or carjacked or whatever else, and I would prefer we just acknowledge that out loud." "Scully, you've got it all wrong." "Texas," she said, and shut him up fast. They stared at each other a moment, and then Scully took a deep breath. "I don't blame you, Mulder. If you feel weird, I think that's normal." He ducked his head. "You're wrong," he said again. "I don't associate you with what happened, Scully. I'm not... put off. Quite the opposite." The opposite. She turned her drink around and around between her hands and considered his words. If he wasn't put off, he was... turned on? As realization dawned, she looked over at him. He seemed like he was wishing the couch would suck him in like a sofa bed. "Mulder?" "It's, uh, not like that," he said in a rush. "No." He shook his head emphatically. "I hate what happened to you. I hate it so much I can't breathe when I think about it. But I went there, Scully. I stood where he stood, and god help me, when I think about what happened I associate with *him*." "You're not him, Mulder." "I'm not even talking profiler, here, Scully." He looked at her, dark eyes intense, his mouth set in a straight line. She forced herself to listen. "I mean, I know what it's like to watch you and want you. I know *exactly* what that guy was thinking when he was looking at you from the bushes. Seven years, god, the frustration -- sometimes I thought about just reaching out and... and..." He grabbed weakly at the air with both hands. "Taking me?" Mulder's hands fell. "Yes." "Well," she said. "Me too." He blinked. "What?" "You think you have the market cornered on sexual frustration, Mulder?" She smiled. "There was one time you came into my motel room after a shower and you flopped down on the bed all damp and, well, naked." "I was never in your motel room naked." "Near enough. I wanted to rip the towel right off of you." "It's not the same," he protested. "Scully, I wanted to do you up against the filing cabinet whether you wanted it or not." "I think we've established by now that I did want it, Mulder." "You don't understand," he said, sounding miserable. She stopped teasing. "Explain it to me," she said as she rubbed his arm. "Because I'm not hearing anything so far that would give me reason to doubt your good character." Mulder would not look at her. "Well, for one thing, I've had this fantasy." Haltingly, he told her of an explicit scenario that started with an argument in the basement and moved to forceful sex up against the wall. "You said no," he told her quietly. "I didn't even care." She leaned her cheek on his shoulder and hugged his arm. "It's a fantasy," she told him. "Fantasies aren't real. You know they're not." "But after everything--" "Mulder, I'm not afraid of you." She squeezed him again. "I'm not afraid of your fantasy, either." "It doesn't make you sick?" "No. It makes me want to get a file cabinet for my bedroom." He looked at her, and she smiled and cupped the side of his face. Her thumb grazed over his stubbly cheek. "Mulder, you're nothing like Gregory Watts. You never will be." "No," he murmured, looking into her eyes. He covered her hand with his own. The corner of his mouth twitched. "You wanted to rip off my towel, huh, Scully?" "More than once." They leaned foreheads together. "Whenever I flopped on your bed, I always thought you wanted to shoot me." "More than once." He laughed and hugged her tight. XxXxX The day of the verdict, Scully went back to court. Once again, Glory waved to her from the gallery. "Saved you a seat," she said as Scully approached. "Hey, this is my mom. Mom, this is the FBI agent I was telling you about." Glory's mom had tight jeans and long red fingernails. Her hair was tinted blonde like her daughter's. "Pleased to meet you," she said, giving Scully's arm a good workout. "I came to watch the bastard fry." "I'm afraid that's not going to be an option," Scully said as they sat. Glory rolled her eyes. "I keep telling her that. Maybe she'll listen to you." "Well, it ought to be an option," her mother retorted. "At the very least they ought to take his pants down and fry his little--" "Mom!" Glory slouched in her seat. "I apologize for my mother." "Not necessary," Scully said. She leaned across Glory to her mother. "I quite agree." The room quieted a bit as the judge entered. Scully could only see the back of Watts's head at the defense table, but the slump of his shoulders suggested that he was not optimistic about the outcome. Nora Bellamy was uncharacteristically subdued as the jury filed into the room. The judge read the verdict and handed it back to be read aloud. Glory grabbed her mother with one hand and Scully with the other. Scully squeezed back. The foreman read the verdict: "We find Gregory Thomas Watts guilty of ten counts of forcible rape," he said, and both Scully and Glory let out a breath. Scully barely heard as the jury found Watts guilty on a slew of lesser charges. "We did it," Glory whispered. Scully nodded. Behind the defense table, Greg Watts's parents looked quietly devastated. Scully wondered if it was because they had lost the case, or whether they finally realized they had raised a monster. To bring a child into this world, she thought, and have him go forth and do evil. Mrs. Watts put her hands over her face and wept. XxXxX On the first morning of his forty-first year, Mulder awoke and considered his brave new world. Forty, he thought, and feeling fine. He headed to the living with his toothbrush still sticking out of his mouth and stopped in front of the fish tank. Woodward and Bernstein swam to the top, eager for their breakfast. "Morning, boys," he said around the toothbrush. "I'm forty today." They did not pause from their eating. Mulder was about to start coffee when he noticed something on the floor by his front door. It was an envelope. Mulder looked around the room for anyone who might have put it there, and then ambled over to pick it up. There was no writing on the front. Shadowy informants sometimes slipped him newspaper clippings or phone numbers this way, but this felt a bit heavier. Maybe they had gone all out for his birthday at "Conspiracies R Us." Mulder lifted the flap and found an airline ticket inside. To Las Vegas. With his name on it. Still with the toothbrush in his mouth, he yanked open his front door and peered down the hallway. It was empty. He was in the process of checking the flight information on the ticket when his phone rang. "Hello?" "Happy birthday," Scully said from the other end. "Scully, you're not going to believe what I found under my door this morning. Some stranger just slipped me a ticket to Vegas." "What a coincidence," she replied, deadpan. "I seem to have a ticket for that exact same flight." "Really? But how do you know which flight..." He paused. "Scully?" "Howdy, stranger," she said, sounding pleased. He smiled and looked down at the ticket again. "Why Vegas?" "I figured our luck was due for a change." XxXxX They touched down in bright Vegas sunshine, desert dry and warm in the early fall. They could have been anybody, in their casual clothes and dark shades, but they weren't. They were Mulder and Scully, embarking on a tentative foray into happiness in a town where the lights in the sky came courtesy of the casinos and the only alien around was Wayne Newton. Scully checked them into the Bellagio hotel, which featured a marble desk that stretched for about a mile. A huge skylight covered with stained-glass flowers decorated the ceiling, and the air conditioning wafted the fragrant smell of the indoor garden throughout the lobby. Their room was done in peach and tan fabric, with thick carpet and a view that looked out over the front of the hotel. Mulder grinned when the fountains shot up thirty feet in the air. "I could do the backstroke in this tub," Scully called from the bathroom, and Mulder walked over hoping for a different kind of water show. But alas, she was just fixing her hair. He met her gaze in the mirror. "Well, Mulder," she said. "We're here. What do you want to see first?" He grinned. "Everything." XxXxX Scully knew she had made the right choice as they walked along the strip and Mulder pointed out one spectacle after another like a little kid in neon sign store. She mocked a woman wearing a T-shirt that read, "Kisses: 25 cents," and so Mulder promptly bought her one. She promised never to wear it. In revenge, she purchased him a baseball cap that had giant hands attached, which one could clap together by pulling on a string. Sadly, he wore it immediately. They wandered in and out of casinos, admiring the lions at MGM and the faux volcano at the Mirage. Mulder won ten dollars at video poker. "I know just what to do with it, too," he said as they walked on. The sun had disappeared and Vegas flickered to life. "What?" Scully asked, fearing another shirt. "That." He pointed at the enormous roller coaster that encircled the New York, New York casino. "Okay," Scully said. "Have fun!" "Scully..." He tugged on her hand. "It's Vegas. Live a little!" "Life, yes," she agreed. "That's my concern here, and I would like to hang on to mine." The track looked impossibly narrow, and at least part of the ride was spent upside down. "It's my birthday," he said. Scully hesitated. "I don't know..." He grinned, knowing he had her, and tugged her hand again. "Come on, Scully. I want to hear you scream." In line, she eyed the cars hurtling past while Mulder rubbed his hands together with glee. "You know, studies show that roller coasters are like the ultimate dating tool," he said. "Horror movies aren't bad either." "As long as we aren't mixing the two," she said, still watching the plummeting coaster warily. "Fear promotes attraction. The brain takes the intense emotion and interprets it as lust." Scully figured this explained some things about her life over the past seven years. At last it was their turn to climb on board. "I hate you," Scully said clearly as the car started forward. The wind tangled her hair. "See?" Mulder yelled. "Intense emotion! It's working already!" Anything else he said was lost in her scream as they hit the first drop. Scully gripped the rails and shut her eyes. She heard the metal wheels rattling along the tracks, the wind in her ears, and beside her, Mulder laughing the whole time. XxX They cleaned up for dinner. Because it was his birthday, not hers, Mulder did not wear a suit and tie. He dressed in dark pants and a crisp white shirt open at the collar. Because it was his birthday, not hers, Scully wore a short, skin-tight black dress with no back and her three-inch spike heels. His warm hand grazed down her bare spine as they walked to dinner, and Scully tingled. "Hungry?" he asked. "I think I left my stomach back on top of the Empire State Building." Mulder, it turned out, had no such problems. He put away a starting course of crab-stuffed mushrooms, a steak as big as his head, three glasses of wine, and over half of the breadbasket. Scully had a spinach salad with sugared pecans and crumbled bleu cheese, and a nice piece of fish. She did, however, manage to keep pace with him on the wine. "Is this the part where the waiters sing 'Happy Birthday'?" he asked, leaning across the table as one of the tuxedoed wait-staff whisked their dinner plates away. Scully regarded him over her wine glass. "If you wanted a birthday serenade, Mulder, you should have picked a restaurant with a clown on the outside." "I'll settle for a birthday dance then," he said, and held out his hand. Scully glanced at the dance floor and listened to the stringed music being piped in; it did not sound too fast. She guessed she could manage the mix of music, high heels and alcohol, at least for one dance. Mulder's strong hand caught hers and helped her to her feet. She followed him in silence across floor. The found a shadowed corner for themselves, and his palm once again pressed against her bare back. She placed her hand lightly over his bicep and tried not to flush. "Thank for this," he murmured as they swayed. "It's just a dance, Mulder." "No, the whole trip. I don't know what I did to deserve it, after everything that's happened, but I'm grateful nonetheless." "Mulder-" "Just listen for a sec, okay, Scully? I know these last four months have been absolute hell for you, and I know I didn't always do everything I could to make them easier. The fact that despite it all, despite the big mess we've made, you'd still want to be here with me, tonight..." He grinned. "Dressed in that outfit..." "Mulder." "It means the world," he said, sobering. "So thank you." Scully blinked rapidly and managed a wobbly smile. "Mulder," she said, "the fact that you still want to be here, with me, tonight, after everything that happened, is *exactly* what you've done to deserve this." He pulled her closer, and she kissed his neck. "So thank you," she whispered. XxX The door to their room swung open, and Mulder and Scully stumbled in, still attached at the mouth. Mulder did not so much carry her across the threshold as drag her there, with her shoes scraping the carpet the whole way. She backed him up against the wall, climbing him like he was her own personal jungle gym. Mulder's hand found its way under her dress to her ass to help her out. She felt his arm muscles, hard under his shirt, supporting her like she was nothing. His fingers splayed over her ribs, and she hugged his waist with her knees. Kissing. God, she'd missed kissing him. He smelled like cotton, like skin, like sweat. He tasted like wine. Scully ran her hands through his hair, feeling his warm scalp and the tender skin behind his ears. Mulder made agreeable noises against her mouth and kept her busy with his tongue. Breathless, she broke away and pressed tiny kisses along his throat. Mulder hugged her. Scully leaned back to smile at him, and found him staring back at her with huge dark eyes. He was smiling, yes, but he also looked a little bit scared. She placed her palms on the wall behind him. He licked his lips. "Mulder," she said softly, "you know we don't have to do anything you don't want to do." "That's supposed to be my line." She pushed some hair back from his forehead and smiled. "You can say it too, if you want." He thrust his hips at her. "Does that feel like I want to stop?" No, thank God. Scully grazed her lips along his cheek, his jaw. She remembered things could change. "Just... no pressure," she said into his neck. He rubbed the back of her head. "No pressure," he agreed. They held each other for a long minute, and then Scully eased herself to the floor. She took his hand and led him in the direction of the giant bed. He stood close, his breathing shallow, while she slipped off her sandals. When she was done, she stretched up and took his face in her hands, bringing him down to her mouth for another lingering kiss. "Happy birthday, Mulder," she murmured as they rested their foreheads together. His fingertips glided over her shoulders and down her arms. Her nerve endings sparked like the Vegas lights. They stood there, her arms loose around his waist, his hands stroking her. She placed her ear over his heart and listened to the erratic beat. He nudged the straps of her dress down. "I am dying to know what you're wearing under this thing," he whispered into her hair. "Not a whole lot." "So I am discovering." His thumbs slid up her ribs and glided over the swell of her breasts. Scully tugged his shirt free from his pants and giddily devoured the naked skin underneath. He kissed her. Scully's heart picked up speed with each article of clothing that they lost. Mulder stood mostly naked before her, erection obvious through his boxers. She was half afraid to touch it for fear of scaring it away. His hand reached around her ass again, fingers toying with the edge of her underwear. She could feel the tension in him. "Mulder?" "I, uh, I brought the condoms," he said. "They're in my bag." She kissed his chest. "It's okay." "Yeah?" It did not make for the most romantic chitchat, but she owed him the full truth. "Watts had to give a blood sample for the DNA test before trial, and they tested it for HIV. He's clean." "Scully, that's great." Mulder hugged her. "Really great." "Yeah," she said from where she was smushed against him. "So lose the boxers, G-man." "Yes, ma'am." And so Mulder took off his clothes. Scully followed suit and joined him on the down-turned covers. He gathered her into his arms for some more kissing, his thigh slipping lazily between hers. Her body felt hot and heavy with desire. She touched the smooth skin over his hips and the long plane of his back. Mulder put a couple of inches between them so he could stroke between her thighs. She jerked at the first contact. "Okay?" he asked, somewhat worried. "Yes," she hissed between gritted teeth. It was all she could do not to thrust down on his hand. She closed her eyes. She could feel him watching her as he worked, her nipples hardening. Her breath came high and fast. "Scully," he said, a whispered word over her mouth. She grabbed him and kissed him hard. More, more, more, she thought, dizzy and hot and almost, almost there. Mulder worked a couple of fingers in and out of her, his thumb on her clit and his tongue in her mouth. He was in her and on her and everywhere and she never wanted to leave him again. "Oh!" she gasped as the waves started. She clutched him tight, arm around his neck as she arched up from the bed. Mulder said something in her hair but she didn't understand him. "Oh," she sighed again a minute later, breathing hard as the world came back into focus. Mulder lay half on top of her, kissing her temple. His erection poked her belly. She stretched to kiss his lips. "Mmmm," she said, figuring that covered everything she was feeling right then. Mulder chuckled. "Liked that, did you?" "'S not even my birthday," she replied, hugging him. Mulder was quiet. "Well, at least this way you won't be disappointed, no matter what," he said at last. Scully drew back and looked in his eyes. "Mulder," she said, toying with his hair, "you have *never* disappointed me. Never." He smiled like he didn't quite believe her. "Never," she repeated, rolling him on top of her. She stroked his brow, his arms, his chest. He smiled down at her. "So, Scully, when people ask me if I got lucky in Las Vegas..." "Well, Mulder..." She smiled. "Let's just say luck is lady tonight." He held his breath as he pushed inside her. When he was fully in, they both relaxed. "Good?" he asked, still anxious. "Very." She ran her hands up and down his back. They kissed as he began to move. Scully caught his rhythm and lay back, enjoying the thick feel of him sliding in and out. Mulder's breathing accelerated. He got that faraway look in his eye that made her feel powerful and tender all at once. "Scully?" he said uncertainly. "I love you," she said near his ear, and he was lost. XxXxX At the end of October, Gregory Watts was sentenced to ninety years in prison. That night, snuggled against Mulder on his couch, Scully watched Watts on the news. He looked blank with terror, as if he might just pass out in the courtroom as the judge passed sentence, as if the enormity of the situation had dawned on him at last. "He's just sorry he got caught," Mulder said. "I hope they throw away the key." The judge had a few words about how vile the crimes were. Scully did not need to listen to that part; she had lived it. She eased away from Mulder. "The food will be ready by now," she said. "I'll go get it." They were trying a new Indian place on the other side of town. Mulder caught her hand and squeezed. "Scully, I can go. You stay here and relax." "No," she said firmly. She gave him a quick kiss and stood. "You set the table. I'll be back in a few." She grabbed her purse, her keys, and her glasses, humming to herself as she went out the door. This time, she took her gun. XxXxX ~End~ Author's notes: First, big chocolate-covered Mulders of thanks to my ace beta team: Amanda, bugs, Elizabeth and Tali. The story is stronger for your input, thank you! Bugs had to listen to me kvetch and moan on the phone about the story. She also served as my "read it in one gulp" beta. Tali and Elizabeth patiently went over it chapter by chapter, spotting my errors and offering encouragement. Amanda, however, gets the beta purple heart. She saw the story line by line and then reread it all at once. She was unflagging in her support for five very long, long months. Yay, Amanda! Mwah to all you! Thanks! Thanks also to those who have come along for the ride. I know this wasn't an easy story. If you made it to the end, I'd love to hear what you thought. I can be reached here: syn_tax6@yahoo.com Cheers, syn Split the Lark Feb 2003 - July 2003