Author's notes: This story takes place within the universe I created in Dance Without Sleeping. It's not necessary to read that first, though I'd like it if you would. :) Just know that Scully is dealing with her cancer and she and Mulder have become lovers. My faithful readers may find this installment a bit more light-hearted than the first two. Blame it on Mulder and Scully. They're just like me--they can only take so much angst. Feedback is always welcome. Please note my new email address. Enjoy! Uh, Charli? This makes it three and oh. You better get busy! Into Each Other Sinking 3 Mirror by Lydia Bower Classification: S, MSR, A, H Rating: NC-17 for sexual content Spoilers: Fourth season. Up to and including Memento Mori. Summary: What do we see when we look in a mirror? Mulder and Scully find out. Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine. Never will be. All rights to The X-Files belong to Surfer Boy, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Mulder and Scully, however, belong to David and Gillian. Anybody want to argue with me about that? Didn't think so. Into Each Other Sinking 3 Mirror By Lydia Bower XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX The Lovers Look how each becomes gift and giver: their veins with nothing but spirit flow. Look how their forms like axles quiver, round which revolving raptures glow. Thirsters, and straight there are draughts for their drinking; wakers, and look, they are sated with sight. Let them, into each other sinking, rise, surviving each other's might. Ranier Maria Rilke XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX It's been said that the eyes are the windows of the soul. But they are also a mirror, reflecting how we see ourselves. Studies have shown that infants learn about their place and importance in the world by reflecting the expressions on the faces of their parents and caregivers. That babies greeted with joy and open, smiling faces are happier and healthier than those confronted by frowns and saddened visages. If we are looked upon favorably, we tend to feel good about ourselves. If the opposite is true, it can set up a lifetime struggle with self-esteem and our own sense of worth. This cause and effect follows us throughout our lives. We look to parents and teachers to tell us how well we're doing at navigating life. We look to friends to discover our worthiness. We look to lovers to reflect back our importance in their lives. A single look from a loved one can either lift us to heights never before imagined or throw us down into a dark pit of despair. But what about what we see when we gaze at our own reflection. How much of what we see is truth and how much is perception? If a beautiful woman gazes at herself in a mirror and sees only ugliness, does it become truth? Does her perception change the way the world views her? Ask the woman and you'll get one answer. Ask the man who loves her and you'll get another. I find Scully in the bedroom, standing in front of the full-length mirror, a hair brush in her hand. Her eyes are cast downward. Her expression is somber and thoughtful. It's a look I've seen far too often lately. This latest round of treatments has taken a huge toll on her. It's sapped her energy and her appetite. No more twelve hour days for her. No more meals eaten on the fly with little attention paid to what she's putting in her mouth. Meals are carefully planned and timed; bland and tasteless so as not to set off another bout of retching and heaving that will leave her drained and weak. I stop in the bedroom doorway and take in the scene before me. "Scully, you okay?" The words are automatic and useless. I can see that she's not. A wry involuntary smile crosses my face at her answer. It's as habitual as my question. "I'm fine, Mulder." I cross the room to stand behind her and glance at our reflections in the mirror. Her eyes remain downcast. I keep my tone light and attempt humor. "You looking for a way to step through to the other side?" There is no response. I try again. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" Nothing. "Scully?" "Look," she says. I follow her line of sight and finally discover what's mesmerized her. One hand is holding the brush, the other a handful of her hair. A large handful. Another quip is born and dies before it reaches my tongue. "My hair is falling out," she flatly tells me. My hands move to her shoulders and down, caressing her arms in easy strokes. "Your doctor said this might happen." That's good, Mulder. Tell her something she already knows. I wonder if this will ever get any easier. If I'll ever come up with the words to ease her pain. Ask me to explain the latest theory on the existence of extraterrestrial life and I can quote you chapter and verse. Present me with the challenge of reassuring Scully and helping her cope with her fears and I'm reduced to platitudes. "It'll grow back," I assure her. More platitudes. How pathetic. "It's not just that," she murmurs. Her eyes finally lift and meet mine in the mirror. "Look at me, Mulder. I'm disappearing. I look at myself and I don't even recognize the person I see." Her voice rises in poorly hidden panic. "What's happening to me?" "It's just the chemo, Scully. You're still the same woman you've always been." "How can you say that?" she asks. There is a tinge of anger in her words. My hands drop away from her in response to it. I watch as she jams the wad of hair back into the brush and carelessly tosses it towards the bed. The brush bounces on the edge and falls soundlessly to the floor. Scully grabs the t-shirt of mine she's wearing in both hands, pulling the extra material tight behind her back. Her ribs and hipbones stand out in sharp relief against the thin fabric covering her. "Just look at me," she demands. "I'm wasting away. I'm beginning to look like the survivor of a goddamn concentration camp." "Scully...." "And look at my face, Mulder." My eyes obediently travel upward from the reflection of her small body to her face. "I don't have any color anymore. If it wasn't for make-up, I'd look like a corpse. I can't get rid of the circles under my eyes. My cheekbones and chin are sharp enough to cut glass." She continues to study herself, ticking off her perceived imperfections like a laundry list of points not open for debate. "My skin is dry. My eyes aren't as clear anymore. My hair is dull and lifeless. I look like I'm sixty years old. I look like shit," she declares. It's not that I can't see what she sees, if I look for it. I can. It's just that I see so much more than that. "You're beautiful, Scully." It's the truth. Her laughter is bitter. "No, I'm not. Not anymore. I'm sick. I look sick." She drops her hands and the shirt billows around her. Hiding the body that carries the invader. Hiding the evidence of what this latest assault on her cancer has done to her. Scully has never been a vain woman. She's not the type to be overly fussy about her appearance. We've been knee deep in everything from pig shit to green hybrid blood too often for her to worry much about how she looks. But that's not to say she doesn't care. Scully is the consummate professional. Always polished, always as close to perfection as she can manage. But she does it for the world outside this apartment more than for herself, or for me. Her appearance is a shield that protects her. With make-up carefully applied, every hair in place, suit well-cut and attractive, she becomes less vulnerable to the pitfalls inherent when a woman is doing work once reserved for men. It protects her. It gives her a measure of control. Which is why her admission puzzles me, coming now. Here, where we are. She doesn't have to prove herself to me. She hasn't had to for a long time. And she certainly has nothing to prove to anyone outside this room. Not tonight. Not when we're away from the work. It's just me and Scully. And then it occurs to me that this time around, her concern might be for me and how I'm viewing her now. That instead of how the world may view her in light of her illness, it's my opinion that matters most to her. I can tell her she's beautiful until I'm blue in the face, but it won't convince her. Her need runs much deeper than simple words can satisfy. I take a step closer to her and watch in the mirror as I bend over her and my arms go around her. One slung high, just below the hollow of her throat. The other around her waist. I pull her tight against my chest, resting my chin on her shoulder. Waiting for her eyes to lift and meet mine. "Well," I murmur close to her ear, "I'll admit there's not quite as much of you as there used to be, Scully. But what's there is still incredible." Her eyes have drifted from mine. She issues a quiet snort of disbelief. If I'm not mistaken--and I don't think I am--there was more than a hint of "prove it" in the sound. My overactive imagination instantly creates several scenarios for possible ways to do just that. Most of them based on proof physical rather than cerebral. What can I say? I'm a hands-on kind of guy. "I can, you know," I tell her. "You can what, Mulder?" "Prove it to you." Her gaze shoots up, locking with mine. "I didn't say you had--" "I know you didn't. But I'm going to anyway. Because I want to." I've got her curious now. I hold her eyes easily, a tiny leer pulling up one corner of my mouth. I see the spark of realization flare in her eyes. Feel the instinctual awareness between us rise a notch or two. A sweet tension swells, filling the room with a low thrumming that's felt instead of heard. Scully's eyebrow slowly rises and she cocks her head just a bit. There is amused trepidation in her voice. "Mulder...." I turn my face until my lips brush against her neck. "Yeah, Scully?" "What exactly do you have in mind?" I chuckle against her skin. I can't answer her because I'm not really sure myself. I'm flying by the seat of my pants. Not for the first time, either. I've managed to make it to thirty-six with an awful lot of airborne miles under my belt. I must be pretty good at it. Or just lucky. Okay, Mulder, old boy. Prove it to her. There is only a moment's hesitation before I release her and step away. "I'll show you." It takes mere seconds to yank my t-shirt over my head and slip off my jeans and boxers. I face Scully, naked as a jay bird. She crosses her arms and gives me the once-over. "Mulder, I already know how much you like to take off your clothes. You're a born exhibitionist. What's your point?" Only Dana Scully could confront a naked man with such aplomb. A little voice in my head is whispering that I'm about to make a fool of myself. Fortunately (or not) I've learned how to cut that particular voice off quickly. Still, it's with a little bit of sheepishness that I join her back in front of the mirror. I take a spot beside her and turn her so both our eyes are focused on my reflection. "What do you see when you look at me, Scully?" I ask her. "Do you want to know what I see? Well, I'm gonna tell you." I take a good long look at myself. I try to see myself objectively, as someone else might. Someone who wasn't busy calling for the men in the white coats to take away the crazy naked guy. "I see a large nose and a little chin. And a bottom lip so big it flaps in the breeze. I see a guy whose eyes are so droopy he looks like he's stoned half the time." A smile has begun to play at the corners of Scully's mouth. I continue my honest assessment. "The phrase 'tall and lanky' seems to fit. Don't you think? I'll never be Arnold Schwarzenegger, that's for damn sure." I poke at my chest. "Though I do have more hair on my chest than he does. 'Course, that's not saying much." "Mulder." "Hush up. I'm not done yet." The rebuke is gentled by my eyes meeting hers in the mirror. I twist around and study the reflection of my backside. "I guess the ass is okay. Seems to catch quite a few eyes." I have to hide my delight when Scully cracks, "Of both sexes, I might add." She's getting into the spirit of things. "Thank you, Agent Scully, for your informative but wholly unnecessary contribution. May I go on?" She gestures with an open hand. "Be my guest." I drop my eyes below my waist. We'll skip that part for now. "Okay. The legs, Scully. Granted they can get me from one place to another rather quickly, but they're definite chicken legs." She bites off a startled laugh and slaps a hand over her mouth. "What?" She looks up at me in the mirror and I watch her face shift to serious mode. "I'm sorry, Mulder, but it's true. You do have bird legs. Her glance drops. "And your feet...." What's wrong with my feet? I ask her. "What's wrong with my feet?" "Nothing, really." I'm not convinced. She looks back down at them. So do I. "They're just so...big. Especially attached to those legs." We look back up at the same time and nod at our reflections. We're both grinning. I watch, and feel it, as Scully's arm slips around my waist, her hand coming to rest low on my hip. "Big nose, big feet," I tell her. "Big hands. You know what they say, Scully." I pause for effect. "Which lead us to the next item on display." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ end part 1/2 Summary and disclaimer can be found in part 1. This is nothing but story. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sometimes humor is the only way to get through a potentially embarrassing situation. I watch as Scully's eyes drop to my crotch. She's gotten a good handle on the situation. Maybe too good. I turn on my best game show host voice. "Tell our lucky contestants about the next item up for bid, Rod." I switch to announcer. "Well, Bob, today we have a nice one-owner set of genitals." I venture a peek at Scully. She's biting her bottom lip. Hard. Her face is flushed with the struggle to hold back her laughter. Good. I happen to glance down and make a discovery. This situation seems to be having an effect on the item in question. Scully has noticed this as well. Sometimes I wonder if I own my penis or if it owns me. It doesn't much seem to care as it continues to twitch and swell under Scully's scrutiny. I clear my throat but my voice still comes out rough. Scully's fingers are playing along my hip, dancing in feather-light and ever-widening circles. "It looks to be a nice package, Bob. Not too big and not too small. Just right. And not to toot my own horn, so to speak, but I have had my fair share of compliments on Sparky." I freeze, my mouth and eyes simultaneously snapping shut as I realize what I've said. Oh shit. Please let her pretend she didn't hear that. "Sparky?!" You just wait, Scully. I'll get you back for this one. I know what's coming. Shit. A slip of the tongue and all my advantage just went flying out the window. I have to have it back. I reach for her shirt, tugging it up. "Your turn, Scully. Time to get naked." "Sparky?" she repeats. She passively allows me to remove one of the two items of clothing she's wearing. The white t-shirt drops to the floor. She's left with only her panties. Bikinis. Pale pink. Lace. Nice. I turn her back to the mirror and step beside her. She is watching me, a content smirk on her face. I shoot her a look that roughly translates to "Make something of it. I dare you." "Sparky," she mouths. "Shut up, Scully." I kneel down and swiftly peel off her panties. "Yes, I named it Sparky," I tell her, looking up at her reflection from my crouch. "So now you know. The Great Mystery revealed. You breath a word of it to another soul and I'll shoot you, Scully; swear to God." "You don't believe in God, Mulder." "I will if he'll erase the last thirty seconds." "It doesn't work that way," she tells me as I straighten up. "Fine. It doesn't work that way. Now, can we get back to what we were doing?" "What *were* we doing?" Her attention has refocused below my waist. "Stop it, Scully." "Stop what?" "Stop looking at me there." "If you didn't want me to look, Mulder, you shouldn't have taken your clothes off." We trade glances in the mirror. "Besides, I'm finding this really fascinating. I mean, I've seen an erection a time or two, but there's just something about actually watching the process...." "Jesus Christ, Scully. Will you shut up?" "What would you like me to do instead?" I take her head in my hands and point her eyes forward. "Look at yourself." "What?" I huff impatiently. "*Look* at yourself. That's what I want you to do." Her eyes close in a slow blink and open up to meet mine. "I don't want to." The change is subtle but remarkable. All the teasing notes are gone from her voice. Serious Scully has made an appearance. And people call *me* mercurial. "You have to," I tell her. "Why?" My hand drops down, my fingers lacing with hers. My voice is pitched low and gentle. A quiet urging. "Because that's the way this works. You got your chance to tell me what you see when you look at yourself--now it's my turn." There is a small silence before I continue. "I want you to see what I see when I look at you." I watch as she drops her chin and sighs. "Mulder. You don't have to do this. I'm okay. Really. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. It'll pass." "You're not going to quit on me now, are you, Scully?" Her eyes fly up to the mirror and lock onto mine. They track me as I step behind her and lay my hands on her shoulders. They rise and fall in another sigh. I watch as her perfect mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. Challenge issued and accepted. I slowly nod my head in acknowledgment. Sliding my hands down her arms, I link her fingers in mine. Giving them a little squeeze, I move back up. Scully closes her eyes as my hands begin to roam over her. And that's okay. She needs time to gather herself. Truth be told, so do I. Although I try to stay far enough away from her, my erection bobs with the beating of my heart and nudges against her lower back. I try to focus on what Scully might be feeling instead of the awareness of my growing need for her. I keep my touch as impersonal and non-sexual as I can. I concentrate on her slim arms and strong legs. The supple curve of her back. I merely glance over the peak of her ass and the flat of her belly. I completely avoid her breasts, though my hands ache to hold them. I stroke and knead, mimicking the movements of a masseuse. After a few short minutes I'm beginning to feel her relax under my hands. She softens and becomes pliable, swaying slightly on her feet. Easy. I'm watching her in the mirror the entire time. Watching my hands moving over her. Watching her features shift. Translating each tiny change and adjusting the pressure of my hands to fit. I love to watch her face when she's relaxed like this. The lift of her eyebrow. A twitch of her mouth. The slow stretch of her neck as she allows her head to tip back just the littlest bit. Her face and body speak a language as familiar to me as breathing. My arousal has mellowed to a languid awareness. I come up off my haunches and slide my arms around her. My hands come to rest splayed out against her belly. I peer over her shoulder and down at the peaks of her rounded breasts. After a few seconds I smugly chuckle and whisper to her, "Hey, Scully. Open your eyes. I want you to take a look at something." She does; and her eyes are soft and unfocused pools of blue. She blinks a few times and then follows my eyes down to her breasts. "See? I can do it, too. All I have to do is look at your nipples and they start to get hard." I glance up at her. She is watching; seemingly as fascinated as I am by my new-found skill. "Let's see if I can speed this up a little," I tell her. I purse my lips and blow softly against one coral-pink nubbin and then the other. Her nipples continue to pucker and harden. "Sure enough." My hands move up without conscious thought and cup her breasts gently. My palms curl under the heavy flesh and lift them. Scully's tongue flicks over her lips as she watches us in the mirror. Her full mouth glistens in the low light of the bedroom. The dull, pleasant ache in my groin begins to build again. Vibrating throughout my body before gathering low and tight in my belly. We watch as my thumbs slide up and over her taut nipples. And then back down. Lightly. Tauntingly. Again and again. Scully leans into me, her head swaying back to rest against my chest. "Look at how beautiful you are, Scully," I urge her. Her eyes open behind heavy lids. Her hips have begun a slow, easy thrusting against me. "You have such a perfect body. So small but so strong. This is the body of a fighter. A survivor. That's what I see when I look at you." My hands leave her breasts and stroke across her belly. Up and down her ribs. Tracing the flare of her hips and the curve of her waist. "Do you know what it means to me, to see you like this? Do you have any idea how special it makes me feel? Knowing you trust me enough to stand before me naked and completely vulnerable." I want to taste her. I need to taste her. My mouth drops to the top her shoulder. I kiss my way across the flesh and bone to the graceful line of her neck. I flick my tongue out and taste the tangy sweetness of the skin below her ear. Scully's small moan urges me on. Her hands have moved back to grip my hips and pull me tighter against her. I drape myself over her and pull my hands up and down her body, caressing every part of her but the one place we're both craving my touch the most. "I look at you and I understand how lucky I am, Scully. That someone as remarkable as you could ever love a man like me." "I do love you, Mulder." "I know you do." My arms go tight around her. I hold her against me with one arm around her waist and drop my free hand to the dark copper curls at the apex of her thighs. "I can see that you do. Your body tells me everything I need to know. All I have to do is look." My hand brushes down against her and back up, my fingers threading through the coarse curls and lifting them away from her sex. "Look with me. See what I see." She watches as I spread my fingers and open her silken folds. They're dusky pink and swollen; moist with the proof of her desire. The small nub of her clitoris beckons my touch. "You're never more beautiful to me than you are right now, Scully." My mouth is dry, my throat tight. "When you give yourself to me like this, you make me beautiful, too. You share that with me." My arousal is so sharp it's almost painful. And yet my eyes sting with unshed tears. I'm frustrated by my inability to express to this woman what she means to me. Words are not enough. They never will be. But maybe if I'm lucky, my hands and my meager words will tell her what she needs to know. And God--if he exists--God willing, we'll have many years to perfect this rare communication we share. Mind and body. Heart and soul. I love you, Scully. My hand slides down over her clitoris and she hisses between clenched teeth. A gasp follows as I slip two fingers inside her. She is hot and tight and ready. My teeth tug at the lobe of her ear. I glance at the mirror and lock my eyes onto our reflection. Yes. Scully is seeing what I see. Her eyes are moving, studying. >From the hand that's gone up to cup and knead her breasts to the one that slowly pumps between her legs. I catch her eye and hold it. She is gasping quietly. Watching me. Waiting. "Do you see, Scully?" I ask her. "Do you see how beautiful we are together?" This is elemental. Instinctual. Scully and me at our most basic and unguarded. We share a primal sympathy nothing can destroy. My brave and beautiful Scully. The white knight to my dark prince. "Yes," she breathes quietly. "I see." My fingers slip out of her silken core and find her clit. She groans and sags against me, her knees giving way. I slowly lower us to the floor. We end up kneeling with Scully between my open thighs. My erection pushes urgently at her lower back and the swell of her ass, seeking entrance to her body. I thrust against her and feel the answering push of her hips as she folds at the waist and drapes her upper body over the arm secured around her waist. My hand has become a blur between her legs. "Please, Mulder," she gasps. "Now. Please." She moans in disappointment as my hand stops its work and comes up to cup her shoulder, pulling back up against me. I watch her face in the mirror. Absorbing the image of her tousled hair and flushed cheeks. Her mouth open and working to pull in breath. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut. God, she's exquisite. Beautiful. So beautiful. "Kiss me, Scully." My words are little more than growls in my throat; unintelligible. But she knows. She hears me and twists her head around enough to reach my mouth with hers. And it is Scully who forces my lips open with her tongue. She enters me and begins a thorough exploration of my mouth. Her tongues dances against mine. Darts up to my teeth and gums. Grazes over the soft skin on the insides of my cheeks. I nip playfully at her tongue and pull away from her. There is a moment when we breathe each other's air before I become the conqueror, now ravaging her mouth the way she has mine. Scully reaches back between us and roughly grabs my cock in her tiny hand, squeezing and stroking in short, abrupt movements. I grunt into her mouth and push harder into her hand. I experience a moment of perfect clarity. Through my arousal-fogged brain runs the thought that this isn't going to take long at all. I have no control. None. And though these are only the first seconds of the direct contact of her hand around my cock, she may as well have been doing this all along. Another few seconds and I'm going to embarrass myself. She amazes me yet again when she breaks the kiss and abruptly ceases stroking me, asking, "Mulder?" Understanding is instantaneous. Now, If I can just make the words. "I'm gonna... I can't... It's now or never, Scully." Her eyes sparkle like jewels and she flashes me a thousand watt smile. "Now," she tell me and pulls free of my hold on her. And then she's on her knees in front of me. Her head resting on her folded arms. Her knees spread wide to encompass my thighs. Her sweet ass sticking up in the air, her sex open and inviting. "Now." I look up and catch our reflection in the mirror. I'm dazedly amused by the mixture of sublime pleasure and painful arousal on my face. My cock is straining hot and angry behind the curve of her backside. I throw my reflection a self-satisfied grin, take myself in hand and bury myself inside her in one quick thrust. Scully's back arches and her head comes up from the pillow of her arms. I pump into her furiously, watching as her right arm snakes under her. And then I feel her fingers slide around the base of my cock for a fleeting moment before they move up to her clit, stroking and rubbing in a frenzy of desire. "Look at me, Scully," I demand as I feel her inner muscles begin to pulse around me. "Look at me!" Her eyes lift to meet mine in the mirror and we explode together. I watch as her face contorts with her orgasm. Watch her as she sees the same change come over my face. I have to force my eyes to stay open. To allow her to see me seeing her. Sharing this as we've come to share everything in our lives. And we are beautiful together. I continue to pump into her in jerky, graceless thrusts, emptying myself deep in her depths. She twitches around me and finally closes her eyes, resting her face against the floor. I drape my body across her back, my elbows bent and holding most of my weight. Resting my cheek against hers, we take deep, cleansing breaths. "Wow," Scully says after a few minutes. "Yep. My thoughts exactly." She laughs quietly. Groaning, I slowly straighten up, planting kisses down her spine as I go. Scully follows me up and we take a second to smile at each other in the mirror. I stand and indulge in a huge stretch, moaning gratefully as various parts of me pop and creak back into place. I offer Scully my hand and pull her to her feet, frowning at her smirk. "What?" "It's hell getting old, isn't it, Mulder?" "Next time we move to the bed," I agree. "Speaking of which, is it bedtime yet?" "Nope," she tells me. "I have plans for you." "Do tell." "You're going to make me something to eat while I take a shower. I'm starving." I gaze down at her open, lovely face. "Really?" "Yes, really. I could eat an entire cow right now." A pleased chuckle escapes me. She hasn't acted this hungry in a long time. Maybe the worst of the effects of the chemo are passing. Maybe we've finally made it over the hump. And maybe, just maybe, this time will be the time that it all works. I kiss her soundly and suggest, "Why don't we start with a nice cheese omelet instead; just to be on the safe side. If you're a good girl and you clean your plate, I'll buy you an ice cream cone." "I have a better idea." "I'm all ears." I tuck her up against me and nuzzle against her neck. "After we eat, let's see if Sparky can come out and play." Scully lets out a startled yelp as my hand connects soundly with her ass. She dances away from me and heads for the bathroom, laughing under her breath. Chuckling, I turn back to the mirror. "Well, Sparky, you heard the lady. Think you're up to it?" If I'm not mistaken, that was a fairly enthusiastic twitch. "Atta boy." I give my reflection a knowing wink and head for the kitchen. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End