Quid Times by Sue Flaxman suenandrew@berlen.bdsnet.com Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the sole property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Network. No disrespect is intentioned to the copyright. ANOTHER way it could happen, folks...heavy Mulder and Scully angst, and a definite NC-17 and M/S romance for those who are squeamish about that sort o thing. This story takes place sometime after Memento Mori...I would guess not too late after, hence the angst. Spoilers for that episode, by the way. I'm not really up on ALL this stuff, having missed a few episodes here and there due to the fact that my 4 year old would rather watch Scooby Doo ( a whole separate issue) but I hope y'all will forgive me...I mean all of this with the best of intentions. Also, just don't even mention the safe sex issue. I can't write it that way. Sorry. "Quid Times", for those who didn't sit through 4 years of Latin, means "What do you fear" I would love to hear feedback on this, but since it is all for fun, please don't trash me too bad. Mulder and Scully, both suffering through the very real prospect of Scully's death, come to terms with their feelings for one another. Quid Times by Sue Flaxman "As for me, I give nothing to any one except I give the like carefully to you I sing the songs of the glory of none, not God, sooner than I sing the songs of the glory of you." --Walt Whitman Washington, D.C. Friday, 1:10 am Mulder parked his car on the edge of the road and walked out onto the bridge. It was snowing lightly and he felt weirdly like Jimmy Stewart in "It's A Wonderful Life." Only this wasn't Christmas, and there wasn't likely to be any redemption for him. The chill breeze ruffled his hair, as cold as the ice forming around his heart. He put his hand into his pocket and fingered the small vial he had stowed there. Life. Scully's life. That was what the vial represented. To use the contents of that vial would be an abomination , as it would be to use any of the thousands of others. But it *was* Scully's life. And, other than the vial, she might not have much of that commodity left. Cancer. Dammit, Mulder thought, looking down at the dark water. He clutched at one of the steel uprights on the walkway and welcomed the pain of the cold metal on his fingers. What would he do without her, should she succumb to the cancer? She would be gone, just as surely as Samantha was gone. And he would be alone. He might even succumb to the darkness that always threatened the edges of his soul. Scully had brought him back from that, with her cool head and her ultimate belief in him. In some ways, he was used to being alone. *Spooky* Mulder was, in fact, considered to be a loner. It was expected of him. But since he had been partnered with Scully, he hadn't felt so much the loner. In fact, he had rarely felt alone in the past four years. The prospect of losing Scully, losing whatever it was they had together, was almost more than he could bear. And what was it, exactly, that they did have together? A partnership, certainly. A trust, a solid working relationship, a history of covering each other's backs when the going got tough. But, standing on the bridge. The night air seeping onto his bones, he had to look into his heart and realize there was more. The sight of her face, her blue eyes. The smell of her hair when she was close. The way she understood most of his jokes and-most importantly-the way she accepted him for who he was. There was more, he admitted to himself. A lot more. He needed her in ways he had never imagined he would need anyone. Even when the X-Files were officially closed, when they weren't working together, he had sought out her expertise with Duane Barry-and that had led to where they were now. If only he hadn't needed her, trusted her... Hell, he was thinking about her as though he were in love with her. And then he thought of her in his arms, in the hospital corridor. He was supposed to be comforting her, soothing her fears. But it hadn't felt that way. For he was he one who had been trembling, he had been the one close to tears, he the frightened one. He *did* love her, and the thought of losing her forever without her ever knowing- Mulder went back to his car and drove to Scully's apartment. 1:40 am Dana Scully tucked her hair behind her ears and studied the blue-lit computer screen. She was finishing up compiling the notes on a case she had autopsied that afternoon and deciding whether or not she wanted a cup of tea before going to bed. Across the room, the TV played soundlessly. There was a black-and-white horror movie on-Attack of the Giant Two-Headed Gila Monster or something. The eerie glow from the TV was the only light in the room except for the computer screen. Scully watched the movie for a moment, wondering if Mulder was watching the same movie in his apartment. Probably. Probably lying on the sofa, absorbed in what the giant two-headed gila monster was doing to Tokyo, or Shanghai, or wherever. Funny, how recently on these late nights when sleep eluded her, she found her thoughts drifting to Mulder, finding them comforting as her teddy bear used to be when she was just a little girl. She felt a trickle of moisture on her upper lip and reached to touch it with her finger. Damn, she thought, reaching for a tissue. Her nose was bleeding again. The blood on the tissue looked black in the odd light of the room. A chill went through her body, as it did every time it happened. It was death. A harbinger of something growing inside her, something she was determined to fight with everything she had in her, but which at the same time filled her to her very soul with dread. She pressed the tissue to her nose and dropped her head. Get ahold of yourself, Scully, she thought. It's a battle, and battles can be won. Ahab taught you that, from the very beginning. She could hear her father's voice echoing in her mind "You can do it, Starbuck...you *can*..." "I can, Daddy," she muttered to herself, only wishing she didn't have to face it alone. And right now she felt very alone, in the darkest hour of the night, facing the darkest demon of her soul. She thought about calling her mother. She thought about calling Mulder. No. It was too late to call Mom. Mulder? He was probably still awake, watching the horror movie. Maybe if she offered popcorn, he'd come over and watch it with her. Okay. She took a deep breath, reached for the phone, and dialed. The phone rang until the machine picked up. Feeling foolish, she hung up. Maybe he wasn't home watching the movie. Maybe he had a late date. The thought of Mulder on a date-a date he hadn't mentioned to her-made her heart lurch oddly in her chest. She felt a new freshet of blood trickle from her nose. She wiped it away, angrily this time. Shit! Why was this happening to her? It never would have if she had refused to become "Mrs. Spooky." No Duane Barry, no weird implants, no cancer... Maybe that was her whole problem, she thought uncharitably, drawing her knees up to her chin, circling her legs with her arms. It was only because he wasn't around now, when she needed him, that she was having these thoughts. Another minute and she would be feeling sorry for herself. Fine. If Mulder didn't want to pick up his phone, or if he was out with some Bambi Berenson-type, it was no business of hers. But she was afraid, and for the past four years, whenever she had been afraid, Mulder had been there, Mulder who was able to throw both their fears into perspective with a smart remark, with that rare, quirky smile, or just by exasperating her so much with his weird theories that she forgot to be afraid. Mulder probably never knew about those moments. He wouldn't know, she thought. He doesn't see me like that. Hell, *I* don't usually see me like that. Until now. Until *this*. Scully dropped her forehead onto her knees. Tears welled up in her eyes and dropped. The only thought that rang through her tired mind was Mulder, Mulder, I need you...please... And then the knock sounded on the door. Scully scrambled up and wiped her eyes with the wad of tissue she still held. "Who is it?" she asked, not liking the way her voice sounded; too fragile, too tremulous. "It's me. If it's too late, I can-" She opened the door. "Spooky" was right. Mulder hadn't yet changed clothes from work. A dark shadow of stubble showed along his jawline, making him look like a detective in a forties movie. "Hi," she said. "I was just finishing up the autopsy report on Gehringer and watching some TV. I-um-have popcorn, if you'd like to come in." "Okay," he said, not meeting her eyes. His dark gaze flickered to the TV. "The Two-Headed Gila Monster. I didn't know you had such fine taste in film, Scully." He looked back at her, and then down at the blood-stained tissues she still held. She followed his gaze and quickly put her hand behind her back. "Again, Scully?" he asked. There was something in his voice-what? He moved closer, putting his hand on her arm and bringing her hand in front of her. Using both his hands, he unclenched her fingers. The blood on them and the tissues was clearly visible. "The doctors said it would happen from time to time...even with the treatment," she said, her voice soft, vulnerable. He took the tissue and dropped it to the floor. Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed her bloody palm. The gesture, the underlying tenderness and passion of it, shook her. "Oh, god, Mulder...oh, no..." His mouth was hot on her palm and she closed her eyes, tiny tears trickling from their corners. Oh, god, oh, god, she thought, what was she doing? What was she letting him do? Exactly what she wanted, what she needed, her tortured mind, her tearing heart replied. His tongue tickled her palm, in the places where the remaining blood was dried into the creases. She felt a jolt of pure electricity run through her and knew that this was what she had craved, what she perhaps had been craving for years. This man. This odd, strangely melancholy man with his haunted eyes, his haunted past. She needed him to give her what no one else in the world could-comfort, a way to fight death with the oldest weapon known to man-love. She needed him beside her, always, always. And she wanted him, too, she knew that as well. Wanted to feel his hands on her, his mouth on hers, feel him against her, taking away the fear, making her forget. Not just this once, but always, for as long as they might have left. As if reading her mind, he dropped her hand and pulled her into his arms. He cupped the back of her head with one hand and kissed her as tenderly as she had ever been kissed by anyone. His lips were as soft as she had known they would be and she tasted him as though he were a delicacy she had longed for. She *had* longed for this. They were meant to be together in every way. She pulled him to her and slid her tongue into his mouth. He groaned softly, and she felt his hardness pressing against her thigh. Oh, Mulder, she thought, why did we wait this long? Until now, when it might be too late? Suddenly, he pulled away. Gripping her by the shoulders, he searched her face. Scully was startled. So startled that she turned her head, breaking his gaze. She couldn't meet that intensity of his, that went right to her core. "Scully," he said in a strangled whisper. "I can't let you go, do you understand that? With-with Samantha, I was just a kid. But now I'm not. I'll fight with you-do whatever it takes. But I will not let you go." He shook her shoulders. "Not without a fight. I-I love you , Scully. I have for a long time, I think. But I don't want anything you don't want." She forced herself to look at him, even though the tears were blurring her vision, and she saw that he was crying, too. "No-I mean, yes...I need you to fight this with me. Love-what I feel for you goes way beyond just love..." she reached up and put her hand on is face, gently. "You are my soul...in this life, or any other." She stepped toward him, stunned by what she had just said, but convinced of its veracity. She turned her face up to his. "Love me, Mulder. Make love to me." "Yes," he said. "Oh, yes." And she led him to the bedroom. They stood facing each other in the din light from the bedside table. Scully felt herself aching with desire for him. Unaccountably, she heard a line from Whitman in her mind, "...but the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face..." To her, he was the most well-made man she had ever known, made for her and her alone. He reached out a shy, tentative finger and traced her jawline. She closed her eyes. Even that small tough made her body wrench. Her hands went to the front of her oversize oxford shirt and unbuttoned it, exposing her naked breasts. She wanted to show herself to him, to show him that she wasn't just the cancer, but a living, breathing woman. She heard him draw in a breath and step forward, and then she felt his mouth on her flesh, tracing a delicate, butterfly-touch path down her collarbone. She stood still, head thrown back, as he gently took one nipple in his mouth. Making a low noise in her throat, she reveled in the sensation he was causing with his lips and tongue. She reached out for him, but he anticipated her and caught her hands, allowing the pleasure to be hers alone. When he released her hands and started to slide her sweatpants and panties down, she didn't resist. "God, Scully...Dana, you're so beautiful. I always imagined you would be-but I never thought-" She opened her eyes and looked down at him. "You mean you imagined me?" she asked, reaching to allow her hands to play in his soft hair. "I am a guy, you know," he said, smiling his trademark Mulder smile. "I noticed," she replied, putting her hand down to grasp at his erection. "Hey!" he said. He stood up over her, wrapped his arms around her, and they fell together onto the bed. "I'll show you how much of a guy I am," he growled playfully. "You'd better," she replied, reaching for his belt buckle. "If you don't, I'll be forced to report to Skinner that his top X-Files agent can't master the simplest mystery known to mankind." "You wouldn't." "No, I wouldn't," she agreed. "Now shut up and kiss me." He did, long and lingeringly. She reached out to unbutton his shirt and before long they were naked in each other's arms, kissing and stroking and touching, each movement of their bodies growing more fevered. Scully felt they were postponing the inevitable until the very last moment, trying to make this first, this most special, time, last forever. Mulder ran his hand down her side, from breast to hip, looking into her eyes, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her chin. His eyes were dilated, dark with passion as he lowered his head to her breast, his mouth again seeking the nipple. She whimpered when he reached his hand down to the very center of her, sending pleasure shooting through her, and then she touched him, slowly at first. Reaching down to run her hand along the length of him, and when he arched in response, more boldly. "I need you, Scully, oh god, I need you...so long...I've..." "Waited so long," she completed his sentence, pressing her body the full length of his, feeling his strength, the hard, flat planes of his body, reaching around to cup his buttocks and hold him tighter still..."I know, love, I know..." He spoke between ragged breaths, as though what he had to say was the most important thing, more important than what was yet to come. Perhaps, she thought, it was. "The thought of losing you now-after this-I wasn't sure you loved me-" he reached up and cradled her face in his hands, the proof of his love and desire swelling against her belly, hard and hot. "-But I had to know." "Shh," she said, pushing him over onto his back and throwing her leg over his, straddling him. Their eyes met as she lowered herself onto him and he entered her, filled her, and she threw her head back with exultation. At that moment, nothing else mattered; not blood, or death, or job...just this moment, with this man. Scully arched back. Mulder gripped her by the waist and lifted her so she slid up and down on him. They fit perfectly together, and the sensation of the motion made Scully groan with pleasure. She relaxed on top of him, their bodies pressing together again. Mulder wrapped his arms around her and rolled so he was on top. He took her hands and pinned them above where her hair fanned on the pillow. "You're mine," he said. "Now and forever. Say it. Say it, Scully," he demanded hoarsely, thrusting in and out. "I'm yours," she said. "Yours." As the pleasure coiled in her belly and lower, feeling like fire inside her, she was excited even more by his demand. Mulder's thrusts became deeper, longer, and Scully felt as though she would explode. The fire grew hotter and as she began to cry out, he covered her mouth with his, joining with her completely as they came together. The tears on both their faces mingled, and Scully tasted the salt of them on her lips. He held her while their breathing slowed, releasing her hands and sliding his arms down around her back. she held him and stroked his hair until his tears stopped. "Can it be like this?" he whispered into her hair. "For as long as we might have?" "And past that, too," she said.