Blinded by White Light (4/6)
FANDOM: X-Files
SUMMARY: What are we, but the sum of our memories?
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Mulder/Scully, Mulder/other, Scully/other
DISCLAIMER: These characters are the creation of CC and company. I have borrowed a few elements of the setting from Marge Piercy's novel He, She and It. She freely admits that she borrowed from William Gibson, so I figure it's all up for grabs.
WORD COUNT: 49,000
DATE POSTED: November 1999
Dana woke before it was light. The clock read 5:00 a.m. and she experienced mild shock at the realization that she was in a hotel room, with Mulder curled up next to her.
What have I done, she thought.
She climbed out of bed and walked, aching and sticky, to the bathroom. The bright overhead light made her eyes clamp shut and even after she adjusted to the glare she wouldn't look at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth with one of the complimentary brushes.
Her skin smelled like Mulder, like the most extraordinary lovemaking she'd ever experienced. She wanted to carry that scent on her body forever, but she turned on the shower anyhow.
The needles of hot water felt refreshing on her stiff muscles, but not good enough to halt the sobs building in her chest. The shower had always been the place she allowed herself the luxury of crying. She remembered the mornings she'd wept in the shower after her two miscarriages, letting the rage and sorrow wash down the drain with the water and shampoo. She'd had to let the pain go in order to endure another day playing the part of the cool, rational research scientist and to be a good wife to John.
The only time John had seen her truly cry was when he'd tiptoed into her Maternity Clinic room carrying the tiny, pink-wrapped bundle that was Julia. They'd cried together, then, as they held their dream come true.
Now she sobbed at the realization that she was irrevocably in love with the one man she could never have. Before Mulder, she hadn't known how deep it could go. Now, anything John could offer her would never be enough.
But she'd pledged John her loyalty, her fidelity, until death parted them and she never broke her promises. She would not break this one. It had been stretched to the limit with this night spent with Mulder, but she could not sever the bond of marriage.
For the first time Dana grasped the negative implications of the word "bond."
This is the right decision, she told herself, washing away the tears with vanilla-scented soap.
She felt stronger with her resolve and her spine and shoulders straightened.
Dana shut off the water and groped for a towel on the rack just outside the shower. She dried off and wrapped it around herself, drew the shower curtain aside. Mulder was standing at the sink, nude, brushing his teeth. He rinsed his mouth and turned to her. His eyes were still at morning half-mast and he smiled.
She stepped out of the shower and he touched her bare shoulder. "You're up early," he said.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Neither could I. Not without you there."
Dana nodded. "I have to go home, get changed for work." She averted her eyes. It would only be more difficult to leave if she looked at him; she would be lost to it again.
But Mulder stepped forward and caught her face in his large hands. "Stay just a little longer, Dana. We have time."
She lifted her eyes to his. "If I stay, I may never recover from this."
"It's too late," he said and kissed her.
He's right, we'll never recover from this, she thought, and they backed out of the bathroom and fell onto the tangled sheets of the bed.
Mulder took his time exploring her, touching her body with gentle fingers and small flicks and tastes of his tongue and lips-her neck, her nipples, even the insides of her elbows. Her skin hummed with live wire cracklings and she felt the juices begin to flow between her legs.
His hand traveled down to where she needed his touch most and Dana whimpered at the light ministrations of his fingers.
Rising on his elbows, he kissed her and said, "Finally, I'm going to find out what you taste like."
"Please, Mulder," she groaned.
Then his mouth was everywhere, his dark head between her spread legs. The hot length of his tongue delved into her and she cried out at the sensation. He momentarily lifted his head and licked his swollen lower lip. "You're so sweet," he said and fell to her again with hungry swipes of his tongue against her clit.
It was almost painful how hard her heart was beating with excitement. With her hands she controlled his pace, but Mulder didn't really need her help. It was perfect. Just as before, he seemed to know instinctively just what she needed and when. Even though she normally scoffed at the idea, she briefly considered the possibility of psychic powers.
Just as she felt the beginning of her climax, he plunged two long fingers into her and she almost sat up, the sensations he produced were so powerful. "Yesyesyesyesyes," she heard herself insensibly moaning as the orgasm burst deep inside her.
Her body was still trembling as he moved up to her and held her shaking body, kissing her all over her face. "You're just so beautiful," he said.
"Yeah, right." It wasn't even six a.m., her hair was still wet and no doubt in a terrible tangle and she didn't have a drop of makeup on her face.
Mulder touched her just above her upper lip. "How come you cover this up?" he asked, referring to the small mole there.
She shrugged. "I don't like the way it looks."
"I do." He kissed her.
Dana nearly sobbed as he entered her again, knowing this was the final time they'd be together. It was a little painful; she was sore from the night before, but it also felt incredible to have him inside her.
"Never," he grunted. "I'll never forget this."
Where have I heard that before, she hazily wondered, but it wasn't a good time for trying to think.
Her thighs ached as she wrapped them high on his back, but it was a good ache. She was scared to shut her eyes, for fear she'd miss out on something. The rest of her life would have to be sustained on these memories of the sheer bliss of making love with Mulder.
Yes, the memories would probably haunt her with guilt later, but they would also remind her of the one night when she learned how love was supposed to be.
Why do I love you so much, she wondered, kissing every part of his face she could. Who are you?
Mulder made a strangled noise as he came, burying his face in her shoulder. She rubbed the satin of his back as he drove into her with impossible force and she smiled through the tears blurring her vision.
"Oh," he sighed. "I'm sorry it was so fast."
"You don't need to apologize."
"But you didn't...I wanted it to be perfect this time."
She understood what he couldn't say-that it was their last time together.
"Shh," she soothed, kissing his neck. "It was wonderful, beautiful."
He made a mollified sound and rolled off her. "I must be crushing you."
Actually, she'd loved the weight of his body, his solid muscles under her hands, the scent of him surrounding her entirely.
Dana didn't want to, but she glanced at the clock. It was nearly 6:30, almost time to leave. The thought made her stomach lurch and her mouth go dry.
Suddenly everything seemed to take on awesome significance. As she curled into his arms, she realized it was for the final time. When they kissed, tongues gliding together, she knew they'd never kiss like that again. She'd never taste him again.
"I wish there could be alternate realities," Mulder said, his eyelashes fluttering against her cheek.
"Why?"
"Because then I could be two men. One would leave this hotel and go back to my life with Sarah, happily unaware that you existed, Dana. And the other would build a new life with you. Every day we'd come home from work, share our day while making dinner. And every night I'd go to bed with you, make love with you and wake up with you by my side."
It was an image she couldn't even bear to contemplate. "The thrill would wear off, Mulder. It always does. It's hot and fresh in the beginning, but after a while it's still good, but you know the routine, you know each other so well that it loses its true excitement."
His voice was raw. "No. Not with you. I know we've only been together for one night, but somehow I know it would always be wonderful with you. I could never tire of you, Dana."
She blinked rapidly. "Don't say that. It'll just get me crying again."
"I know. But I can't help having these thoughts."
She sat up. "Mulder, I have to leave now."
His warm hand touched her bare back. "I didn't think it would be this hard."
"I know." She stood and walked to the bathroom without looking back at him.
Five minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed. Mulder was sitting on the bed, now wearing his boxers, with his head in his hands.
With difficulty, she managed to keep her voice even. "I don't think I can stand it if we have a big goodbye scene."
He didn't look up, but he nodded.
She walked over to him and laid her hand on his. I love those hands, she thought. They're large and strong but infinitely gentle.
Mulder still didn't look up.
"Please tell me we're doing the right thing," she whispered.
When he finally looked at her, his eyes were the darkest gray before black and shiny with tears. "We're doing the right thing, Dana."
She nodded. "I love you," she said.
He stood and kissed her, a long slow kiss that made the breath catch in her throat.
"So do I," he said. "That's the problem."
Dana gave his hand one last squeeze. She braced herself, like standing on the edge of a diving board and knowing the water would be cold, and then she turned and walked out the door.
Somehow, she got through the day on coffee and sheer willpower.
She was simply too drained to feel anything, to think about anything but cell structures and DNA matches.
She left work a little early and went straight to Primary Care to pick up Julia. Her daughter was sitting at one of the little red tables, making something lumpy with molding clay.
"Mommymommymommy!" Julia shouted, and bolted across the room to fling herself into Dana's arms.
Dana took a deep breath of Julia's apple juice and vanilla wafer scent.
She was where she belonged.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was funny how the more you pretended life was normal, the more normal it actually seemed.
At home, Dana made Julia's favorite meal-grilled cheese and tomato soup-and didn't even mind when her daughter managed to get most of her soup on the high chair and the white and blue linoleum below. Julia was thrilled to be with her again and couldn't stop prattling nonsense about her day, even as she chewed on her sandwich.
Jerry and the Blue Spaceship had a record engagement of five readings, each repetition ending with Julia smacking the book with her tiny, fat fist and gleefully shouting, "More Jerry!"
Dana realized she was half-listening for the phone, for a call from John, and she was a little on edge. But the phone remained silent, the only noise in the apartment her own voice reading the story, Julia's responses and the muted sound of music from a ballet program on the telescreen.
She didn't think about Mulder, not really. It required a force of will so strong her jaw ached from clenching it.
Julia wandered off to her art table in the corner, scribbling on the light screen with her markers. Dana sat back on the couch with the afghan over her legs, watching the concentration on Julia's small face as the little girl hummed to herself.
She'd fought so hard to have her daughter. Her excitement over the prospect of being a mother had turned to anger and horror when she'd discovered, after months of trying to conceive, that she was infertile. She knew, intellectually, that the inability to have a baby didn't make her any less of a woman, but the failure of her own body had struck her hard all the same.
Julia was happily unaware of what a miracle she was. She'd been only the sixteenth baby in the world to be born using cell regeneration therapy obtained from the Others. The procedure had nearly wiped out Dana and John's credit and ended their marriage as the entire focus of their relationship turned towards conception. But it had been worth it, every cent and every minute spent on the quest. Her daughter was willful, curious, intelligent and, let's face it, hopelessly adorable. She had Dana's curiosity and John's inherent kindness. She was theirs, a blend of their genetic material and their ultimate legacy for the world.
She couldn't leave her family for Mulder, even if he were willing to leave his own family. She wouldn't subject her child to a broken family unit, to shuttling back and forth between separate apartments. Dana knew all too well what it felt like to be cast adrift and insecure, to not have the warmth and belonging of family. She wouldn't do that to Julia.
But a niggling little voice in the back of her head spoke up, asking, but is it right for the child to be in a family where the mother is truly unhappy?
The thing was, she didn't know if she would be unhappy in the years to come. Yes, she was miserable right now, but perhaps time would heal that. Perhaps she would be able to forget the extraordinary night she'd spent with Mulder. Right now the pain was as raw as Julia's skinned knee after she'd fallen off the jungle gym in the park, but surely it would ease with time. Right?
With all her heart, Dana hoped so.
She was able to keep her emotions in check all night, viewing them from a safe, detached distance, until she asked Julia, "What are you drawing, honey?"
Julia looked up from the light screen. From her angle on the couch, Dana could see a vaguely humanoid scribble in blue, and a something round and brown. "This is a lady," Julia said, as gravely as if she were reporting on test findings, "and this is a potato."
For some reason, that made Dana burst into tears.
With alarm, Julia ran over to her and crawled into her lap, touching Dana's face with her hot little hands. "Don't cry," she said, in a tone that made her sound just like Dana soothing her own tears. "Don't cry, Mommy."
The sound of her voice only made Dana cry harder.
Finally she gathered herself together and kissed the top of Julia's head. "I'm okay," she said, forcing a smile and wiping her eyes. "Sometimes even mommies need to cry."
She lifted Julia off her lap and went to start the bath.
Just as the sun is setting they stop working and decide to go down to the later with their pre-dinner beers. The next door neighbor's Golden Retriever, spots them and hyperactively scampers ahead until he reaches the surf.
The breeze is rather stiff and she shivers despite her Irish fisherman's sweater, the sweat from raking leaves rapidly cooling on her body. They walk in the sand, leaving a side-by-side track of running shoes, one set of large feet and one much smaller.
They stop at the water's edge and watch the waves. Even though she has spent most of her life near one ocean or the other, she's never failed to be surprised at how many shades of gray there are in the Atlantic. High season is long over at the Vineyard and the beach is deserted and somehow seems abandoned.
The dog comes crashing out of the water, spraying droplets everywhere as he shakes his shaggy red coat.
She turns to the man standing next to her and watches the wind ruffle his dark hair. He's been wearing it shorter in the last year or so and it makes him look vulnerable somehow.
"This is wonderful," she says, stretching out her stiff back.
He smiles. "It's kind of one of those General Foods International Coffee moments, huh?"
She laughs, hearing the annoying 'celebrate the moments of your life' jingle in her head. Great, now it'll be stuck there for the rest of the day.
Turning to her, he lays his large hand on her arm. "This weekend has felt like we've been living that normal life you've always wanted, Scully."
"It's always good to get away from the city."
"Well, I appreciate your spending your entire weekend doing yard work with me."
She leans in closer to him and is rewarded with a faint hint of his sweat. "That's what friends are for."
A curious expression passes on his face and he quickly squeezes her hand, dropping it almost as soon as he makes contact with it. He mumbles something, but she can't quite catch the words over the crash of a large wave.
"What did you say?" she asks.
He looks slightly sheepish. "I said that you're my best friend, Scully."
She nods. "You're my best friend, too."
"It's been a difficult year for us, but I hope you still know that."
"I do."
Without even thinking about it, or its possible implications, she rises on tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to his closed lips. They're cool and slightly chapped.
He takes a half step back and runs his hands through his tousled hair. For a moment she's afraid she's ruined it all, the delicate balance that has existed through all their years together.
Looking at her, he says, "What does that mean, Scully?"
That's the trouble with her, her intentions are always so difficult for others, even him, to read.
For once, she chooses to be brave and get to the heart of the matter. "Unfinished business."
"Are you referring to my hallway?"
The kiss that never was-she recalls it like a strange dream only half-remembered.
She nods.
"I haven't...I didn't think...I thought it was too late for us...so many years, so long..." he stammers.
"I don't believe it's ever too late for anything," she says, aware of the fact that she's smiling, "especially us. We just need to make sure we're ready."
The expression of astonishment on his face is priceless. She wishes she had her camera with her.
And then he seems to snap to his senses and his face seems to turn softer, his look almost tender. "Not too late," he says and walks toward her.
This kiss is different than the last, harder, longer, wetter. She revels in his unique taste and the sensation of completion.
They're finally here.
When they stop to breathe, she can't help grinning.
He touches her lips. "What's so funny?"
"We're definitely ready, Mulder."
The sound of crying woke Dana, but it wasn't her own tears, it was Julia's.
She sat up and shook her head awake, still half-clinging to the dream she'd had. The bedroom was pitch dark and she felt a light sheen of sweat on her body.
The beach, the kiss, the waves, Mulder.
Mulder?
What the hell was that dream?
She climbed out of bed and crossed the hall to Julia's room. Her daughter was on her side in a tangle of sheets, sobbing. Dana sat on the edge of the little bed and touched her daughter's face. "Did you have a dream, sweetie?"
That makes two of us, she thought.
Julia opened her eyes and snuffled. "Where's Daddy?" she asked in a pitiful little voice.
She leaned down and kissed Julia, checking to see if the bed was dry at the same time. It was, thank God. "He's going to be home soon."
"I need Daddy."
"Soon, soon," she crooned and kissed Julia again.
Dana scooped the little girl up, marveling at how heavy she was getting. It wasn't the best idea to get Julia used to sleeping in her parents' bed, but she wasn't in the mood for good child psychology right now. Her daughter had caught her emotional temperature and was having bad dreams. Julia needed comfort and for that matter, so did she.
In the big bed, Julia settled back to sleep snuggled next to her mother's body.
Fighting sleep, Dana thought about what a strange thing the subconscious was. Her dream had had elements of Before. It had been the same man who had appeared in her other dreams, but he'd been Mulder, too. And the beach where they'd been had been an awful lot like Mulder's Netspace beach.
She'd had dreams like that before, of course, where she'd been working in the lab, but the lab was located on the roof of her apartment building and John was her partner instead of Meghan. Things were always getting mixed-up and jumbled in dreams.
But...what if?
No, it couldn't be. Her subconscious was looking for a nice excuse for what she and Mulder had done.
She couldn't, wouldn't, trust the hazy, fleeting memory of a dream. It was not the kind of quantifiable proof she needed.
Wishful thinking, Dana mused, turning onto her stomach to sleep.
She tried to call up how it had felt to hold Mulder's warm, solid body, but already she was losing her ability to imagine him in three dimensions.
Perhaps it was a blessing, after all. John would be home in a few days and she'd need to forget that night to survive.
She shut her eyes and thought of everything but Mulder as she floated back to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What do you want to eat tonight? We can order pizza or do you want stir-fry-" Dana and Julia were walking into the apartment, later than usual due to shopping for a new pair of sneakers for Julia. Dana stopped in mid-sentence, in the middle of the doorway. The living room lights were on and the air smelled like garlic and tomatoes.
Julia got it before Dana did. She threw up her arms in glee and shouted, "Daddy!"
John was home.
Dana's heart began to beat with nauseating irregularity. Oh God, John was home.
He ran out of the kitchen, dressed in his oldest pair of jeans and a blue button-down shirt, and swung his giggling daughter in his arms. Kissing the top of Julia's head, he said, "Oh, Jules, I missed you so much!"
Such a pretty scene, Dana thought, watching their homecoming with an odd detachment. What a lovely family we make-- handsome father and husband, devoted mother and wife, ridiculously cute and precocious little girl. What's wrong with this picture?
I'm what's wrong with this picture.
John set Julia down and walked towards Dana with an impatient stride, his eyes shining with emotion. "Dana," he breathed, "God, it's good to see you again."
She took a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around her. It's time to start over, she thought. This is your husband and you love him.
He tilted her face to his to kiss her with lips that tasted pleasantly of tomato sauce, while Julia circled around them, twirling in her navy blue Primary Care jumper and singing, "Daddy's home, la, la, la...Daddy's ho-oo-me!"
John gave Dana a questioning look that made her wonder, for one breathless moment, if he could somehow see everything that had happened in her eyes. But he only said, "How are you, Dana? You look tired."
She flashed him what she hoped was a sunny smile. "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep very well while you were gone."
It wasn't exactly a lie.
"Sorry I didn't call you when I arrived. I got in at noon, took a nap and decided to surprise you with dinner."
"I was surprised, all right."
That was definitely no lie.
He kissed her again and tugged at her hand. "The pasta has to be done now. Come on, let's eat."
After dinner, the three of them lingered for a long time at the kitchen table, eating chocolate ice cream. John had a lot of stories from his weeks in Sao Paolo. Dana found it fascinating, as always, to hear about a new city being built. The Others had created the very first cities, including the one where they lived, but the humans were building more cities using the technology they'd learned from their benefactors. John talked about heat and wind and mosquitoes, things Dana couldn't really remember herself.
It was somehow sad to think that her daughter would grow up never having been cold or feeling rain.
Dana missed rain. She could remember walking down the sidewalk on gray mornings, shivering under her umbrella, stinging pellets of cold rain hitting her face.
Julia was nearly passing out in John's lap by the time he finished his travelogue. Her head kept bobbing down and then abruptly up again as she realized she was falling asleep.
Looking down at his daughter with a tender expression, John said, "I think it's time we put Little Miss to bed."
The child's head jerked up again. "No bed," she said vehemently and Dana and John exchanged amused glances.
"I'll read you a story..." Neither John nor Dana was above bribery to get Julia to bed.
Julia's eyes lit up. "Jerry?" she asked hopefully.
"We've got to get her hooked on a new book," Dana said under her breath.
John stood and slung Julia over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "We'll read Jerry, but first you need a bath. You're wearing more spaghetti and ice cream than you actually ate." He poked her side and she yelped in ticklish joy.
This is why I can't be with Mulder, Dana thought, rising and gathering dirty plates for the dishwasher. The easy warmth and camaraderie of family is rare and precious.
So is real love, cut in her opposing inner voice.
I don't want to be that selfish, she thought as she scraped pasta and salad into the garbage disposal.
Julia ran screeching into the kitchen, buck naked, to wrap her arms around Dana's legs. "No bath, no bath!" she shouted.
John ambled in, holding a bottle of shampoo. He looked exasperated. "Come on Jules-no bath, no Jerry."
Letting go of Dana's legs, Julia walked toward her father in defeat. "Okay, let's bath."
"I'll try to hurry," John said, smiling now. "You and I have some catching up to do."
It had been almost three weeks for them. She knew John could probably think of little else than sliding into bed and making love with his wife. She wished she could share his eagerness, wished the idea didn't fill her with a sinking feeling of dread.
She finished up in the kitchen and went to the bedroom to change into pajamas. If things were different she might have put on her black silk negligee or gone to bed with nothing on at all, but she found she couldn't make herself do it.
As she got into bed, she heard the soft baritone of John's voice, reading to Julia. Dana rolled onto her side, facing away from the open door, and wondered if Sarah had returned from Boston yet. Was Mulder at this very moment facing the prospect of sex with his wife? Did it scare him, too?
Enough of Mulder, she warned herself. You have to learn to forget him.
It was such a strange paradox that she was feeling as if she were about to cheat on Mulder. It was supposed to be the other way around.
Dana heard Julia's door shut and then John's footsteps as he crossed the hall to their bedroom. She tried to will her heart into beating less rapidly.
John's clothes rustled as he took them off and laid them on the chair. He didn't open the bottom bureau drawer for his t-shirt and sweatpants, which always meant he was coming to bed expecting to make love.
And didn't he have the right to expect that? She was his wife, after all, and they'd been apart for so long.
She wondered if she could get away with pretending to be asleep, but she knew she couldn't.
John climbed in bed and under the covers, moving against her back. His body was warm and she could feel his erection through the cotton of his briefs.
This is your husband, she told herself. You love him.
"Dana," he whispered in her ear. "I'm so happy to be home."
She rolled over to face him, to trace the familiar features of his face with her fingers. She'd pledged this man her whole life, herself-body and soul.
They began to kiss and despite herself and her misgivings, Dana felt the excitement begin to build. What a slut I am, she thought as she twined her tongue with John's. It would seem that any man can turn me on, any time.
John turned her onto her back and she saw his radiant smile. "I dreamed of this while I was gone," he groaned, cupping her breasts with his hands. "I missed you so much I almost told the crew to go fuck themselves and hopped on the next plane back."
I wish you had, because then we wouldn't be in such a mess, Dana thought. She moaned with arousal and shame as his tongue made its slippery way around her nipples and his fingers dived into her wetness.
She sat up a little to remove his shorts and clasped his erection in her hand, gently squeezing the silken hardness. He sighed and shifted onto his elbows to enter her.
Dana heard herself, in a gasping voice, say, "No."
"No?" He blinked at her in confusion.
She scrambled out from under him and turned onto her hands and knees, pushing her bottom into the air.
"Oh God, Dana, what's gotten into you?"
She didn't know herself. They'd never done it this way before, in all their years together. It had never even really occurred to her before this night.
"You're amazing," he said and moved to the end of the bed.
She gripped the sheets between her fingers, waiting for him.
And then John's mouth was on her, licking her juices as if she were an exotic fruit. Her back arched until her forehead was touching the sheet as she began to make little mewling sounds at the sensation of his tongue. John had been clumsy at oral sex in their early days, but in time he'd learned to give her just what she wanted.
But her treacherous mind turned on her, plunged her into a fantasy of how it would be if things were different.
...they arrive at their apartment door at the same time, both of them dressed in their suits and home from work. As soon as they step inside, Mulder catches her mouth in a crushing kiss of need. "I thought of you all day," he says.
They stumble into the bedroom and she slips off her jacket and begins to unbutton her white blouse.
"No time for that," he says and hitches up her skirt, peels off her nylons. While he pulls off her panties, she unzips his gray trousers and he lets out all his breath as his hard cock springs free between the slit in his boxer shorts.
Mulder playfully pushes her onto the bed and she lands face down, her legs shaking with anticipation.
There's no preamble, no beginning niceties, just the incredible sensation of the length of him sliding into her. She balances on her elbows and rears back to meet his hard thrusts. I love you, she thinks, I love I love I love you.
His fingers snake around to find her clit and a strangled sound escapes her throat.
"More," she cries, pushing against his fingers, "Give me more."
When she comes, it's not a quiet thing. The sounds she makes are as violent as the explosion coursing through her entire body...
And then she was back in her own bed, blinking in surprise and still feeling the last twinges of climax, still crying out, "Love, love, love you."
"Me, too," John grunted from behind her and pumped faster into her.
He buried his face in the back of her neck as he came, bucking against her with manic little thrusts, and then John was still.
Dana lifted her head from the mattress and realized it was wet with her tears. The shame of dreaming of Mulder while making love with John threatened to make her collapse in helpless sobs, but she swallowed hard and forced herself into composure.
They lay side by side, gently kissing. "That was incredible," John said, still breathing hard. "I've never
seen you so...so wild before. You must've really missed me, huh?"
She nodded. John was right. In bed with him she was usually passive, letting him do all the leading. He'd never complained, but now she wondered if he'd ever wanted her like this, completely uninhibited.
"You're always full of surprises, Dana. Just when I think I have a handle on you..."
I could really surprise the hell out of you, she dourly thought, but I won't. Not now, not ever.
As always, John fell asleep almost immediately. She couldn't, her mind busily racing away with horrible little stabs of guilt.
She disentangled herself from his arms but John slept away, exhausted by travel and furious sex.
In the bathroom she took a quick, hot shower and then wrapped herself in her bathrobe to wander out into the living room. It wasn't even midnight yet. She made a cup of green tea and turned on the computer, hooking the connect cable behind her ear.
She didn't really know why she was checking her Mailserve account. There would be nothing from Mulder, of that she was certain. They had definitively said goodbye the other morning.
Still, she felt disappointed when she found nothing from him in her inbox.
Feeling as if she were outside her body and watching herself do it, she punched in the coordinates for Mulder's Netspace. Her Net Tracker told her he wasn't online, but she went there all the same.
Dana stood outside the Netspace's door, wondering if the security program would allow her to enter. She stepped forward and was sucked through the blackness and onto the beach.
This time, the beach was bathed in darkness, the only light that of the full moon above the water and a thick canopy of bright stars overhead. She looked around in amazement. It was indeed the same beach as the one she'd seen in her dream the night before.
How odd dreams were...
Dana slipped off her virtual shoes and socks, and walked onto the squishy, wet sand, the cold waves lapping at her feet.
After a while, she began to cry.
She wondered how real tears were in cyberspace.
When she finally disconnected and found herself back in her living room, her face was wet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As morning turned to afternoon, Dana sat in her small office, stuck on a speech she was due to give at a symposium in late March. She wasn't especially fond of public speaking for large groups but at the same time she was looking forward to traveling to London with Meghan for the conference. Parts of the city, including Buckingham Palace, had either escaped the invasion's destruction or been restored, and she already had pages from a London guidebook downloaded into her palm computer. Meghan never failed to tease her about this kind of overly-anal behavior.
Now she was trying to decide on a joke for the opening of the speech. She lifted her head at a knock on her half-closed door. "Come in," she called out.
Meghan poked her head in. "Dana-Fred, Jenny and I are going down to the deli for lunch. Want to come along?"
She shook her head. "This is the only chance I have to work on the speech this week. I'll get something later."
Her partner mock pouted. "Are you sure? We haven't really talked in days."
"Too much to do." Dana removed her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes.
"Okay, fine. But don't forget that we're going over the latest results with Fred at three."
"I'll be there."
More coffee, she thought after Meghan left, and poured another cup from the thermal carafe. She was running on a chronic sleep shortage and only massive caffeine intake was allowing her to concentrate on her work. Dana briefly fantasized about a week at a fancy hotel, all alone and far away from her problems and conflicts, with nothing to do but purchase movies on the telescreen and sleep in a comfortable bed. But it wasn't going to happen. There was too much to do.
There was another knock at her door. "Meghan," she said with a short laugh. "I told you I have to work on my speech."
"Is this a bad time, Dana?"
The blood drained from her face and for a sickening moment she feared she might pass out.
Oh. Mulder. What the hell are you doing here?
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Her eyes drank in the sight of him-the nervous expression on his face, the way his fingers clutched the handle of his briefcase.
"I'm sorry to just show up like this, but I had a meeting across the street." He laid the briefcase down on her desk and popped it open. "You forgot your birthday present when you left."
She shut her eyes for a second and let the pain of that morning wash through her body. Dana touched her cheek. "I can't believe I forgot it."
She rose from her chair and he handed her the black leather book. For a moment their hands brushed against each other and a shiver ran through her at his touch.
"I wanted you to have it." As Mulder turned to leave, his eyes found the framed photograph on top of her bookshelf. It was a picture of John, Julia and Dana, taken on Julia's second birthday. Dana was lighting the candles on the birthday cake and John held Julia on his lap while the little girl giggled and tried to grab the candles.
Mulder stared at the picture for a long moment. "So, this is John," he said softly.
She nodded.
Mulder and John had never met. Perhaps it was good for Mulder to see a picture of John, to make the man in her life as real to him as Sarah was real to Dana.
He turned to her, his eyes infinitely sad. "How are you doing, Dana?"
She shrugged. "I'm okay."
He took a few steps closer to her, close enough that she could smell him, or at least imagine she could. "I'm not," he said flatly. "I'm not doing very well."
Dana found herself meeting the gap between them with two steps. She looked up at his beautiful, mournful face.
"It's going to take time, Mulder."
He clasped her hands in his. His hands were so warm, as warm as his body in the middle of the night. "I don't know if I can get over you, or if I want to."
"We have to," she said with what she hoped was vehemence, but her rebellious body rose to kiss him all the same.
Nothing had changed in the past few days; kissing him was still as intense and fulfilling as always. Kissing Mulder was everything; it made every kiss she'd shared with John seem shallow and bleak. Her mouth opened to him and they both whimpered a little as their tongues met.
Her hands pulled his body closer to her, his body heat radiating into her, his erection seeming to taunt her by firmly pressing into her belly. She found herself wanting to lock the door so she could have him again, to briefly lose herself in loving Mulder. Or better yet, to spend the afternoon at the Cascade Falls, wrapped in the sheets and each other, sharing their secrets.
I don't love John, she dizzily thought, not like this. I love him because of shared history and responsibility and because of his inherent goodness, but I will never be able to love him as wholly as this. Never.
Mulder pulled away, breathing hard and wiping her lipstick off his mouth with the back of his hand. "We can't do this," he said in a hoarse voice. "We can't sneak around. It's not what I want."
She bowed her head in shame. "I'm sorry. It's clear that we really can't be alone together."
"I don't know what to do," he said.
Wasn't that the refrain running though their relationship?
"We have to give John and Sarah a chance. We owe it to them."
He nodded.
If only they could be less noble and simply shake free of their bonds and be together.
"I hope we can," he said, blinking away tears.
"Me, too."
He grabbed his briefcase and walked out of her office without another word.
Dana sat back down and watched her hands shaking in her lap. She didn't have time to cry; she had a speech to write.
She took another slug of hot coffee and ordered herself to get back to work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Tube was crowded that night but she managed to squeeze into a hard plastic seat two stops down the line. "Please take caution, the doors are closing," said the melodious voice on the loudspeaker. "The next stop is Binghamton Crossing."
Dana idly watched the other people in the car. Some looked relaxed and happy, chatting away or reading, and others seemed stressed. She wondered if she looked as depressed and strung-out as she felt.
She fished through her bag until she found the journal. What a gorgeous gift. Jewelry and perfume were sweet, but she'd never received anything as deeply meaningful as this. Mulder just had an uncanny ability to know her, to know what her heart needed.
Dana opened the book and touched the thick, slightly rough paper. Paper just wasn't made like this anymore. There was no need, as nearly all information conveyed electronically.
There was some writing on the second page. She stifled a small gasp, which made the man sitting next to her shoot her a curious look.
The writing was black pen on the cream paper, small and angular writing. She knew it was Mulder's handwriting even though she'd never seen it before.
With dread mixed with excitement, she read the words written there.
Craving
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
Pablo Neruda
There is no reason, no excuse for our love, Dana, but it is undeniably there. We've made our decision and intend to honor it, but it doesn't change the way I feel and I suspect it's the same for you.
The night we spent together will remain the shining memory of my life.
With love,
M
February, 2004
When she finished reading the poem, she closed the book and turned her head to stare, largely unseeing, at the concrete subway tunnel rushing past.
"The sovereign nose of your arrogant face." She touched her much-hated nose and smiled.
Mulder, I never knew how lonely I was until I met you.
"We are now approaching Morningside Heights. Please step carefully onto the platform."
The bright and crowded Tube station assaulted her senses as soon as she walked off the train. A burly, bald man in a trench coat shoved her as he passed and she nearly twisted her ankle as she careened into a trashcan. Got to get out of here, she thought, gritting her teeth and plunging through the horde, past the bright mosaic walls that depicted children frolicking.
She had almost reached the escalator when she felt the wave of nausea building, saw the multitude of tiny gold spots wavering before her eyes. Not again, she frantically thought, but her stomach gave a sharp heave and she went running for the nearest bathroom.
It was too late, though. She only made it as far as the trash receptacle outside the bathrooms before she lost the contents of her stomach. Shame burned through her as she felt the eyes of passers-by on her while she retched.
After she lifted her head from the can, she saw a familiar figure standing next to her.
"Holy shit," Evan said under his breath. "Are you okay, Dana?"
She shook her head, sensing the migraine gathering force.
He took her by the elbow and led her to a row of plastic seats. "I'll be right back," Evan said and took off, his leather jacket flying behind him.
Dana closed her eyes and tried to breathe as the pain escalated.
Evan returned with a bunch of paper napkins and a bottle of water that he'd bought from the little convenience store across the way. She tried to smile in thanks and fumbled to uncap the bottle. It wouldn't come open in her fingers and she nearly screamed in frustration.
Her unlikely savior deftly removed the cap and handed her the bottle and she took a long drink, trying to wash the sour taste of vomit out of her mouth.
"Did you eat something that didn't agree with you?" he asked.
She shook her head, noticing that since she'd last seen Evan, he'd gotten rid of the braids and was now sporting a bright-red afro, studded with multicolored wires and beads. She needed a chart to keep up with his ever-changing hairstyles.
"A migraine," she said, shrugging. "It happens to me sometimes."
"Let's get you home," he said and helped her up.
The two-block walk home seemed to take an eternity, with her stomach still lurching and her head pounding away. Evan was considerate, walking at her pace, his arm looped through hers for support.
On the elevator she slumped against the wall, wishing the sappy soft-classical music would just shut up.
Evan took her to her door. "I hope you feel better, Dana."
"Thanks for rescuing me." She squeezed his arm and kissed his cheek, just to see his embarrassed expression.
"Say, I'm sorry I haven't gotten to looking for your friend. I'll try to do it as soon as possible."
"Don't worry about it." Mulder was gone now. She could never see him again. What had happened in her office had made that crystal clear.
The door opened and John appeared, already changed into his at-home sweats. His face paled when he saw Dana. "Are you all right?"
The nausea rose again and she pushed past him to the bathroom. On the way she heard Evan explaining about the Tube station and her migraine.
She stumbled out of the bathroom, hitting on her Migranex inhaler and kicking off her shoes at the same time. John was standing in front of the bed with Julia clinging to his back. "Another one, huh? When was your last migraine?"
Setting the tube on the bedside table, she began to unbutton her blouse. "Just a few days ago."
"Promise me you'll call your doctor in the morning."
She nodded and threw the blouse on the floor. Normally she would either toss the blouse in the laundry hamper or hang it in the closet so it wouldn't wrinkle, but the pain was getting so bad she just plain didn't care what happened to it. John set Julia down and handed Dana a pair of flannel pajamas.
He kissed the top of her head. "Get some rest," he murmured. "I'll try to keep Julia to a dull roar."
"Is Mommy sick?" Julia piped up.
"Just a little bit," John said. "Why don't we go and make quesadillas?"
After she changed and got into bed, Dana felt the drug-induced stupor hitting her, but the pain didn't seem to lessen. Instead, she felt as if her head were splitting into a thousand fragments.
Breathe, just breathe.
Pain, pain, go away, come again some other day.
Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day. Missy and I sing this on the way to CCD from school, splashing in the puddles until our pants are soaked. Mom is gonna be mad, but it's fun to jump in a big one and get the water all over Missy. She yelps at me and stomps her boot, splashing me, too.
Rain, dripping down the windows as I curl up on the couch, a fire lit in the hearth, trying to read through the pain, waiting for the painkillers to take effect.
Can I tell you my secret?
In the side of my bag is a zippered pocket and in that pocket is a plastic bag which holds seventy-five of my pain pills. It's my secret stash, the one I can't tell anyone about.
When it gets too bad, when I can't handle it anymore, I'll take myself and that bag to a hotel. Check in, pour a nice glass of wine and one by one, swallow the pills.
I'll only do it if I have to. I need to die with dignity.
I've already written my letter to you.
God will forgive me, I know this. I can't believe that he wants me to suffer in the end, to become blind, to lose my motor functions, to become a helpless creature trapped in her bed as the invader eats her from inside. God cannot be that cruel.
I'll fight to the end, but the minute the battle becomes a losing one, I'll just let go.
Is it like sleep?
Stay tonight, stay with me. In the morning you can go into your room and mess up the bed like you actually slept there. I know it's against some arcane regulation, but stay with me.
Hey, Scully, did you know that the word for 'to kiss' in Romany, the language of the Gypsies, literally means, 'to eat?' If they want to say, 'I want to kiss you,' they say, 'I want to eat your face.'
Did I really need to know that information?
I want to eat your face. I want to eat your lips, your neck, your breasts.
Did you know you talk in your sleep?
Dad, you never met him, but I wish you had. I know you disapproved of my ultimate choice, of the path I decided to follow, but I think you'd be proud of me all the same. And I think you could have grown to love him. He's nothing like you, of course, but he has the same strength of spirit. And he loves me. He loves me the way Jack and Ethan never could, with absolute surrender to the condition. And I love him wholly, because watching you and Mom over the years taught me that such a thing is possible.
It's not possible. I don't believe.
The world will not end.
they'recomingthey'recomingthey'recoming
Get up, get up, we have to run, it's too late, we have to get supplies and hide and do what we can to survive.
Two days and two nights and it all ends here.
Do you remember that time when we got away? The weekend in New York, happily anonymous in the crowd, ignoring pending cases to eat overpriced bistro food at Choucroute and drink too much wine and the way every night we stumbled back to our room at the Plaza to make love to each other. The way the room smelled after we woke and ordered room service, like roses and hot coffee and newspaper and our sweat and love on the sheets.
Do you remember?
I remember.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been more than five years since my last confession. I have committed the sin of adultery. I have fallen in love with a man who is not my husband. I have sinned but I love him, Father. He wants to know my secrets and I want to know his.
If I tried to tell you, John, would you even listen?
Why can't you understand that I need to remember?
Say the Act of Contrition and a decade of the rosary, Dana. Ask God for His forgiveness.
I don't know if I want to be forgiven. I don't know if I need to be forgiven.
We will be together in the next life, I promise.
I want to believe, Scully.
I look at the ruined land below me and wonder why it took me so long to believe.
When I wake, I'm coughing.
I want my mother to tuck me into bed with a spoonful of Robitussin and the heating pad. And when I wake, I want her chicken noodle soup and her warm hand on my forehead.
Not tonight, Scully, it's not time, let's just keep each other warm, please, for me, one more night, I want to see another morning with you.
Put down the gun.
Put down the gun, you're stronger than this. You bastard! I slam my hand on the table so hard I fear I've broken a small bone, but their concentration doesn't waver, they are focused on death. Don't let yourself be pushed, you're stronger than that.
Oh God, do you hear it? Can you feel it coming? The earth is shaking under us.
Hold my hand, this is it.
Somehow, I always knew we'd die together. As strong as we are, there's no way one could survive without the other. Can you even imagine such an existence?
We will be together in the next life.
It's coming.
It was just a dress rehearsal before. It was simple vandalism. This is the real deal.
Look, the sky, how beautiful. It's just lovely...
Hold my hand.
This is it.
We end right here.
It feels so intimate.
We end together.
Light in her face roused Dana and she felt John's hand on her cheek. "What?" she mumbled, the pain still fiercely raging in her skull.
"Get up, honey," he said in a gentle voice. "We have to get you to a doctor."
She shook her head like a petulant child. "I don't need a doctor, I am a-"
John cut her off. "You're bleeding."
Her hand rose to her face and instinctively went to her nose.
When she took her hand away, she saw it was crimson with blood.
End of Part 4 of 6.
SUMMARY: What are we, but the sum of our memories?
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Mulder/Scully, Mulder/other, Scully/other
DISCLAIMER: These characters are the creation of CC and company. I have borrowed a few elements of the setting from Marge Piercy's novel He, She and It. She freely admits that she borrowed from William Gibson, so I figure it's all up for grabs.
WORD COUNT: 49,000
DATE POSTED: November 1999
Dana woke before it was light. The clock read 5:00 a.m. and she experienced mild shock at the realization that she was in a hotel room, with Mulder curled up next to her.
What have I done, she thought.
She climbed out of bed and walked, aching and sticky, to the bathroom. The bright overhead light made her eyes clamp shut and even after she adjusted to the glare she wouldn't look at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth with one of the complimentary brushes.
Her skin smelled like Mulder, like the most extraordinary lovemaking she'd ever experienced. She wanted to carry that scent on her body forever, but she turned on the shower anyhow.
The needles of hot water felt refreshing on her stiff muscles, but not good enough to halt the sobs building in her chest. The shower had always been the place she allowed herself the luxury of crying. She remembered the mornings she'd wept in the shower after her two miscarriages, letting the rage and sorrow wash down the drain with the water and shampoo. She'd had to let the pain go in order to endure another day playing the part of the cool, rational research scientist and to be a good wife to John.
The only time John had seen her truly cry was when he'd tiptoed into her Maternity Clinic room carrying the tiny, pink-wrapped bundle that was Julia. They'd cried together, then, as they held their dream come true.
Now she sobbed at the realization that she was irrevocably in love with the one man she could never have. Before Mulder, she hadn't known how deep it could go. Now, anything John could offer her would never be enough.
But she'd pledged John her loyalty, her fidelity, until death parted them and she never broke her promises. She would not break this one. It had been stretched to the limit with this night spent with Mulder, but she could not sever the bond of marriage.
For the first time Dana grasped the negative implications of the word "bond."
This is the right decision, she told herself, washing away the tears with vanilla-scented soap.
She felt stronger with her resolve and her spine and shoulders straightened.
Dana shut off the water and groped for a towel on the rack just outside the shower. She dried off and wrapped it around herself, drew the shower curtain aside. Mulder was standing at the sink, nude, brushing his teeth. He rinsed his mouth and turned to her. His eyes were still at morning half-mast and he smiled.
She stepped out of the shower and he touched her bare shoulder. "You're up early," he said.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Neither could I. Not without you there."
Dana nodded. "I have to go home, get changed for work." She averted her eyes. It would only be more difficult to leave if she looked at him; she would be lost to it again.
But Mulder stepped forward and caught her face in his large hands. "Stay just a little longer, Dana. We have time."
She lifted her eyes to his. "If I stay, I may never recover from this."
"It's too late," he said and kissed her.
He's right, we'll never recover from this, she thought, and they backed out of the bathroom and fell onto the tangled sheets of the bed.
Mulder took his time exploring her, touching her body with gentle fingers and small flicks and tastes of his tongue and lips-her neck, her nipples, even the insides of her elbows. Her skin hummed with live wire cracklings and she felt the juices begin to flow between her legs.
His hand traveled down to where she needed his touch most and Dana whimpered at the light ministrations of his fingers.
Rising on his elbows, he kissed her and said, "Finally, I'm going to find out what you taste like."
"Please, Mulder," she groaned.
Then his mouth was everywhere, his dark head between her spread legs. The hot length of his tongue delved into her and she cried out at the sensation. He momentarily lifted his head and licked his swollen lower lip. "You're so sweet," he said and fell to her again with hungry swipes of his tongue against her clit.
It was almost painful how hard her heart was beating with excitement. With her hands she controlled his pace, but Mulder didn't really need her help. It was perfect. Just as before, he seemed to know instinctively just what she needed and when. Even though she normally scoffed at the idea, she briefly considered the possibility of psychic powers.
Just as she felt the beginning of her climax, he plunged two long fingers into her and she almost sat up, the sensations he produced were so powerful. "Yesyesyesyesyes," she heard herself insensibly moaning as the orgasm burst deep inside her.
Her body was still trembling as he moved up to her and held her shaking body, kissing her all over her face. "You're just so beautiful," he said.
"Yeah, right." It wasn't even six a.m., her hair was still wet and no doubt in a terrible tangle and she didn't have a drop of makeup on her face.
Mulder touched her just above her upper lip. "How come you cover this up?" he asked, referring to the small mole there.
She shrugged. "I don't like the way it looks."
"I do." He kissed her.
Dana nearly sobbed as he entered her again, knowing this was the final time they'd be together. It was a little painful; she was sore from the night before, but it also felt incredible to have him inside her.
"Never," he grunted. "I'll never forget this."
Where have I heard that before, she hazily wondered, but it wasn't a good time for trying to think.
Her thighs ached as she wrapped them high on his back, but it was a good ache. She was scared to shut her eyes, for fear she'd miss out on something. The rest of her life would have to be sustained on these memories of the sheer bliss of making love with Mulder.
Yes, the memories would probably haunt her with guilt later, but they would also remind her of the one night when she learned how love was supposed to be.
Why do I love you so much, she wondered, kissing every part of his face she could. Who are you?
Mulder made a strangled noise as he came, burying his face in her shoulder. She rubbed the satin of his back as he drove into her with impossible force and she smiled through the tears blurring her vision.
"Oh," he sighed. "I'm sorry it was so fast."
"You don't need to apologize."
"But you didn't...I wanted it to be perfect this time."
She understood what he couldn't say-that it was their last time together.
"Shh," she soothed, kissing his neck. "It was wonderful, beautiful."
He made a mollified sound and rolled off her. "I must be crushing you."
Actually, she'd loved the weight of his body, his solid muscles under her hands, the scent of him surrounding her entirely.
Dana didn't want to, but she glanced at the clock. It was nearly 6:30, almost time to leave. The thought made her stomach lurch and her mouth go dry.
Suddenly everything seemed to take on awesome significance. As she curled into his arms, she realized it was for the final time. When they kissed, tongues gliding together, she knew they'd never kiss like that again. She'd never taste him again.
"I wish there could be alternate realities," Mulder said, his eyelashes fluttering against her cheek.
"Why?"
"Because then I could be two men. One would leave this hotel and go back to my life with Sarah, happily unaware that you existed, Dana. And the other would build a new life with you. Every day we'd come home from work, share our day while making dinner. And every night I'd go to bed with you, make love with you and wake up with you by my side."
It was an image she couldn't even bear to contemplate. "The thrill would wear off, Mulder. It always does. It's hot and fresh in the beginning, but after a while it's still good, but you know the routine, you know each other so well that it loses its true excitement."
His voice was raw. "No. Not with you. I know we've only been together for one night, but somehow I know it would always be wonderful with you. I could never tire of you, Dana."
She blinked rapidly. "Don't say that. It'll just get me crying again."
"I know. But I can't help having these thoughts."
She sat up. "Mulder, I have to leave now."
His warm hand touched her bare back. "I didn't think it would be this hard."
"I know." She stood and walked to the bathroom without looking back at him.
Five minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed. Mulder was sitting on the bed, now wearing his boxers, with his head in his hands.
With difficulty, she managed to keep her voice even. "I don't think I can stand it if we have a big goodbye scene."
He didn't look up, but he nodded.
She walked over to him and laid her hand on his. I love those hands, she thought. They're large and strong but infinitely gentle.
Mulder still didn't look up.
"Please tell me we're doing the right thing," she whispered.
When he finally looked at her, his eyes were the darkest gray before black and shiny with tears. "We're doing the right thing, Dana."
She nodded. "I love you," she said.
He stood and kissed her, a long slow kiss that made the breath catch in her throat.
"So do I," he said. "That's the problem."
Dana gave his hand one last squeeze. She braced herself, like standing on the edge of a diving board and knowing the water would be cold, and then she turned and walked out the door.
Somehow, she got through the day on coffee and sheer willpower.
She was simply too drained to feel anything, to think about anything but cell structures and DNA matches.
She left work a little early and went straight to Primary Care to pick up Julia. Her daughter was sitting at one of the little red tables, making something lumpy with molding clay.
"Mommymommymommy!" Julia shouted, and bolted across the room to fling herself into Dana's arms.
Dana took a deep breath of Julia's apple juice and vanilla wafer scent.
She was where she belonged.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was funny how the more you pretended life was normal, the more normal it actually seemed.
At home, Dana made Julia's favorite meal-grilled cheese and tomato soup-and didn't even mind when her daughter managed to get most of her soup on the high chair and the white and blue linoleum below. Julia was thrilled to be with her again and couldn't stop prattling nonsense about her day, even as she chewed on her sandwich.
Jerry and the Blue Spaceship had a record engagement of five readings, each repetition ending with Julia smacking the book with her tiny, fat fist and gleefully shouting, "More Jerry!"
Dana realized she was half-listening for the phone, for a call from John, and she was a little on edge. But the phone remained silent, the only noise in the apartment her own voice reading the story, Julia's responses and the muted sound of music from a ballet program on the telescreen.
She didn't think about Mulder, not really. It required a force of will so strong her jaw ached from clenching it.
Julia wandered off to her art table in the corner, scribbling on the light screen with her markers. Dana sat back on the couch with the afghan over her legs, watching the concentration on Julia's small face as the little girl hummed to herself.
She'd fought so hard to have her daughter. Her excitement over the prospect of being a mother had turned to anger and horror when she'd discovered, after months of trying to conceive, that she was infertile. She knew, intellectually, that the inability to have a baby didn't make her any less of a woman, but the failure of her own body had struck her hard all the same.
Julia was happily unaware of what a miracle she was. She'd been only the sixteenth baby in the world to be born using cell regeneration therapy obtained from the Others. The procedure had nearly wiped out Dana and John's credit and ended their marriage as the entire focus of their relationship turned towards conception. But it had been worth it, every cent and every minute spent on the quest. Her daughter was willful, curious, intelligent and, let's face it, hopelessly adorable. She had Dana's curiosity and John's inherent kindness. She was theirs, a blend of their genetic material and their ultimate legacy for the world.
She couldn't leave her family for Mulder, even if he were willing to leave his own family. She wouldn't subject her child to a broken family unit, to shuttling back and forth between separate apartments. Dana knew all too well what it felt like to be cast adrift and insecure, to not have the warmth and belonging of family. She wouldn't do that to Julia.
But a niggling little voice in the back of her head spoke up, asking, but is it right for the child to be in a family where the mother is truly unhappy?
The thing was, she didn't know if she would be unhappy in the years to come. Yes, she was miserable right now, but perhaps time would heal that. Perhaps she would be able to forget the extraordinary night she'd spent with Mulder. Right now the pain was as raw as Julia's skinned knee after she'd fallen off the jungle gym in the park, but surely it would ease with time. Right?
With all her heart, Dana hoped so.
She was able to keep her emotions in check all night, viewing them from a safe, detached distance, until she asked Julia, "What are you drawing, honey?"
Julia looked up from the light screen. From her angle on the couch, Dana could see a vaguely humanoid scribble in blue, and a something round and brown. "This is a lady," Julia said, as gravely as if she were reporting on test findings, "and this is a potato."
For some reason, that made Dana burst into tears.
With alarm, Julia ran over to her and crawled into her lap, touching Dana's face with her hot little hands. "Don't cry," she said, in a tone that made her sound just like Dana soothing her own tears. "Don't cry, Mommy."
The sound of her voice only made Dana cry harder.
Finally she gathered herself together and kissed the top of Julia's head. "I'm okay," she said, forcing a smile and wiping her eyes. "Sometimes even mommies need to cry."
She lifted Julia off her lap and went to start the bath.
Just as the sun is setting they stop working and decide to go down to the later with their pre-dinner beers. The next door neighbor's Golden Retriever, spots them and hyperactively scampers ahead until he reaches the surf.
The breeze is rather stiff and she shivers despite her Irish fisherman's sweater, the sweat from raking leaves rapidly cooling on her body. They walk in the sand, leaving a side-by-side track of running shoes, one set of large feet and one much smaller.
They stop at the water's edge and watch the waves. Even though she has spent most of her life near one ocean or the other, she's never failed to be surprised at how many shades of gray there are in the Atlantic. High season is long over at the Vineyard and the beach is deserted and somehow seems abandoned.
The dog comes crashing out of the water, spraying droplets everywhere as he shakes his shaggy red coat.
She turns to the man standing next to her and watches the wind ruffle his dark hair. He's been wearing it shorter in the last year or so and it makes him look vulnerable somehow.
"This is wonderful," she says, stretching out her stiff back.
He smiles. "It's kind of one of those General Foods International Coffee moments, huh?"
She laughs, hearing the annoying 'celebrate the moments of your life' jingle in her head. Great, now it'll be stuck there for the rest of the day.
Turning to her, he lays his large hand on her arm. "This weekend has felt like we've been living that normal life you've always wanted, Scully."
"It's always good to get away from the city."
"Well, I appreciate your spending your entire weekend doing yard work with me."
She leans in closer to him and is rewarded with a faint hint of his sweat. "That's what friends are for."
A curious expression passes on his face and he quickly squeezes her hand, dropping it almost as soon as he makes contact with it. He mumbles something, but she can't quite catch the words over the crash of a large wave.
"What did you say?" she asks.
He looks slightly sheepish. "I said that you're my best friend, Scully."
She nods. "You're my best friend, too."
"It's been a difficult year for us, but I hope you still know that."
"I do."
Without even thinking about it, or its possible implications, she rises on tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to his closed lips. They're cool and slightly chapped.
He takes a half step back and runs his hands through his tousled hair. For a moment she's afraid she's ruined it all, the delicate balance that has existed through all their years together.
Looking at her, he says, "What does that mean, Scully?"
That's the trouble with her, her intentions are always so difficult for others, even him, to read.
For once, she chooses to be brave and get to the heart of the matter. "Unfinished business."
"Are you referring to my hallway?"
The kiss that never was-she recalls it like a strange dream only half-remembered.
She nods.
"I haven't...I didn't think...I thought it was too late for us...so many years, so long..." he stammers.
"I don't believe it's ever too late for anything," she says, aware of the fact that she's smiling, "especially us. We just need to make sure we're ready."
The expression of astonishment on his face is priceless. She wishes she had her camera with her.
And then he seems to snap to his senses and his face seems to turn softer, his look almost tender. "Not too late," he says and walks toward her.
This kiss is different than the last, harder, longer, wetter. She revels in his unique taste and the sensation of completion.
They're finally here.
When they stop to breathe, she can't help grinning.
He touches her lips. "What's so funny?"
"We're definitely ready, Mulder."
The sound of crying woke Dana, but it wasn't her own tears, it was Julia's.
She sat up and shook her head awake, still half-clinging to the dream she'd had. The bedroom was pitch dark and she felt a light sheen of sweat on her body.
The beach, the kiss, the waves, Mulder.
Mulder?
What the hell was that dream?
She climbed out of bed and crossed the hall to Julia's room. Her daughter was on her side in a tangle of sheets, sobbing. Dana sat on the edge of the little bed and touched her daughter's face. "Did you have a dream, sweetie?"
That makes two of us, she thought.
Julia opened her eyes and snuffled. "Where's Daddy?" she asked in a pitiful little voice.
She leaned down and kissed Julia, checking to see if the bed was dry at the same time. It was, thank God. "He's going to be home soon."
"I need Daddy."
"Soon, soon," she crooned and kissed Julia again.
Dana scooped the little girl up, marveling at how heavy she was getting. It wasn't the best idea to get Julia used to sleeping in her parents' bed, but she wasn't in the mood for good child psychology right now. Her daughter had caught her emotional temperature and was having bad dreams. Julia needed comfort and for that matter, so did she.
In the big bed, Julia settled back to sleep snuggled next to her mother's body.
Fighting sleep, Dana thought about what a strange thing the subconscious was. Her dream had had elements of Before. It had been the same man who had appeared in her other dreams, but he'd been Mulder, too. And the beach where they'd been had been an awful lot like Mulder's Netspace beach.
She'd had dreams like that before, of course, where she'd been working in the lab, but the lab was located on the roof of her apartment building and John was her partner instead of Meghan. Things were always getting mixed-up and jumbled in dreams.
But...what if?
No, it couldn't be. Her subconscious was looking for a nice excuse for what she and Mulder had done.
She couldn't, wouldn't, trust the hazy, fleeting memory of a dream. It was not the kind of quantifiable proof she needed.
Wishful thinking, Dana mused, turning onto her stomach to sleep.
She tried to call up how it had felt to hold Mulder's warm, solid body, but already she was losing her ability to imagine him in three dimensions.
Perhaps it was a blessing, after all. John would be home in a few days and she'd need to forget that night to survive.
She shut her eyes and thought of everything but Mulder as she floated back to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What do you want to eat tonight? We can order pizza or do you want stir-fry-" Dana and Julia were walking into the apartment, later than usual due to shopping for a new pair of sneakers for Julia. Dana stopped in mid-sentence, in the middle of the doorway. The living room lights were on and the air smelled like garlic and tomatoes.
Julia got it before Dana did. She threw up her arms in glee and shouted, "Daddy!"
John was home.
Dana's heart began to beat with nauseating irregularity. Oh God, John was home.
He ran out of the kitchen, dressed in his oldest pair of jeans and a blue button-down shirt, and swung his giggling daughter in his arms. Kissing the top of Julia's head, he said, "Oh, Jules, I missed you so much!"
Such a pretty scene, Dana thought, watching their homecoming with an odd detachment. What a lovely family we make-- handsome father and husband, devoted mother and wife, ridiculously cute and precocious little girl. What's wrong with this picture?
I'm what's wrong with this picture.
John set Julia down and walked towards Dana with an impatient stride, his eyes shining with emotion. "Dana," he breathed, "God, it's good to see you again."
She took a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around her. It's time to start over, she thought. This is your husband and you love him.
He tilted her face to his to kiss her with lips that tasted pleasantly of tomato sauce, while Julia circled around them, twirling in her navy blue Primary Care jumper and singing, "Daddy's home, la, la, la...Daddy's ho-oo-me!"
John gave Dana a questioning look that made her wonder, for one breathless moment, if he could somehow see everything that had happened in her eyes. But he only said, "How are you, Dana? You look tired."
She flashed him what she hoped was a sunny smile. "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep very well while you were gone."
It wasn't exactly a lie.
"Sorry I didn't call you when I arrived. I got in at noon, took a nap and decided to surprise you with dinner."
"I was surprised, all right."
That was definitely no lie.
He kissed her again and tugged at her hand. "The pasta has to be done now. Come on, let's eat."
After dinner, the three of them lingered for a long time at the kitchen table, eating chocolate ice cream. John had a lot of stories from his weeks in Sao Paolo. Dana found it fascinating, as always, to hear about a new city being built. The Others had created the very first cities, including the one where they lived, but the humans were building more cities using the technology they'd learned from their benefactors. John talked about heat and wind and mosquitoes, things Dana couldn't really remember herself.
It was somehow sad to think that her daughter would grow up never having been cold or feeling rain.
Dana missed rain. She could remember walking down the sidewalk on gray mornings, shivering under her umbrella, stinging pellets of cold rain hitting her face.
Julia was nearly passing out in John's lap by the time he finished his travelogue. Her head kept bobbing down and then abruptly up again as she realized she was falling asleep.
Looking down at his daughter with a tender expression, John said, "I think it's time we put Little Miss to bed."
The child's head jerked up again. "No bed," she said vehemently and Dana and John exchanged amused glances.
"I'll read you a story..." Neither John nor Dana was above bribery to get Julia to bed.
Julia's eyes lit up. "Jerry?" she asked hopefully.
"We've got to get her hooked on a new book," Dana said under her breath.
John stood and slung Julia over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "We'll read Jerry, but first you need a bath. You're wearing more spaghetti and ice cream than you actually ate." He poked her side and she yelped in ticklish joy.
This is why I can't be with Mulder, Dana thought, rising and gathering dirty plates for the dishwasher. The easy warmth and camaraderie of family is rare and precious.
So is real love, cut in her opposing inner voice.
I don't want to be that selfish, she thought as she scraped pasta and salad into the garbage disposal.
Julia ran screeching into the kitchen, buck naked, to wrap her arms around Dana's legs. "No bath, no bath!" she shouted.
John ambled in, holding a bottle of shampoo. He looked exasperated. "Come on Jules-no bath, no Jerry."
Letting go of Dana's legs, Julia walked toward her father in defeat. "Okay, let's bath."
"I'll try to hurry," John said, smiling now. "You and I have some catching up to do."
It had been almost three weeks for them. She knew John could probably think of little else than sliding into bed and making love with his wife. She wished she could share his eagerness, wished the idea didn't fill her with a sinking feeling of dread.
She finished up in the kitchen and went to the bedroom to change into pajamas. If things were different she might have put on her black silk negligee or gone to bed with nothing on at all, but she found she couldn't make herself do it.
As she got into bed, she heard the soft baritone of John's voice, reading to Julia. Dana rolled onto her side, facing away from the open door, and wondered if Sarah had returned from Boston yet. Was Mulder at this very moment facing the prospect of sex with his wife? Did it scare him, too?
Enough of Mulder, she warned herself. You have to learn to forget him.
It was such a strange paradox that she was feeling as if she were about to cheat on Mulder. It was supposed to be the other way around.
Dana heard Julia's door shut and then John's footsteps as he crossed the hall to their bedroom. She tried to will her heart into beating less rapidly.
John's clothes rustled as he took them off and laid them on the chair. He didn't open the bottom bureau drawer for his t-shirt and sweatpants, which always meant he was coming to bed expecting to make love.
And didn't he have the right to expect that? She was his wife, after all, and they'd been apart for so long.
She wondered if she could get away with pretending to be asleep, but she knew she couldn't.
John climbed in bed and under the covers, moving against her back. His body was warm and she could feel his erection through the cotton of his briefs.
This is your husband, she told herself. You love him.
"Dana," he whispered in her ear. "I'm so happy to be home."
She rolled over to face him, to trace the familiar features of his face with her fingers. She'd pledged this man her whole life, herself-body and soul.
They began to kiss and despite herself and her misgivings, Dana felt the excitement begin to build. What a slut I am, she thought as she twined her tongue with John's. It would seem that any man can turn me on, any time.
John turned her onto her back and she saw his radiant smile. "I dreamed of this while I was gone," he groaned, cupping her breasts with his hands. "I missed you so much I almost told the crew to go fuck themselves and hopped on the next plane back."
I wish you had, because then we wouldn't be in such a mess, Dana thought. She moaned with arousal and shame as his tongue made its slippery way around her nipples and his fingers dived into her wetness.
She sat up a little to remove his shorts and clasped his erection in her hand, gently squeezing the silken hardness. He sighed and shifted onto his elbows to enter her.
Dana heard herself, in a gasping voice, say, "No."
"No?" He blinked at her in confusion.
She scrambled out from under him and turned onto her hands and knees, pushing her bottom into the air.
"Oh God, Dana, what's gotten into you?"
She didn't know herself. They'd never done it this way before, in all their years together. It had never even really occurred to her before this night.
"You're amazing," he said and moved to the end of the bed.
She gripped the sheets between her fingers, waiting for him.
And then John's mouth was on her, licking her juices as if she were an exotic fruit. Her back arched until her forehead was touching the sheet as she began to make little mewling sounds at the sensation of his tongue. John had been clumsy at oral sex in their early days, but in time he'd learned to give her just what she wanted.
But her treacherous mind turned on her, plunged her into a fantasy of how it would be if things were different.
...they arrive at their apartment door at the same time, both of them dressed in their suits and home from work. As soon as they step inside, Mulder catches her mouth in a crushing kiss of need. "I thought of you all day," he says.
They stumble into the bedroom and she slips off her jacket and begins to unbutton her white blouse.
"No time for that," he says and hitches up her skirt, peels off her nylons. While he pulls off her panties, she unzips his gray trousers and he lets out all his breath as his hard cock springs free between the slit in his boxer shorts.
Mulder playfully pushes her onto the bed and she lands face down, her legs shaking with anticipation.
There's no preamble, no beginning niceties, just the incredible sensation of the length of him sliding into her. She balances on her elbows and rears back to meet his hard thrusts. I love you, she thinks, I love I love I love you.
His fingers snake around to find her clit and a strangled sound escapes her throat.
"More," she cries, pushing against his fingers, "Give me more."
When she comes, it's not a quiet thing. The sounds she makes are as violent as the explosion coursing through her entire body...
And then she was back in her own bed, blinking in surprise and still feeling the last twinges of climax, still crying out, "Love, love, love you."
"Me, too," John grunted from behind her and pumped faster into her.
He buried his face in the back of her neck as he came, bucking against her with manic little thrusts, and then John was still.
Dana lifted her head from the mattress and realized it was wet with her tears. The shame of dreaming of Mulder while making love with John threatened to make her collapse in helpless sobs, but she swallowed hard and forced herself into composure.
They lay side by side, gently kissing. "That was incredible," John said, still breathing hard. "I've never
seen you so...so wild before. You must've really missed me, huh?"
She nodded. John was right. In bed with him she was usually passive, letting him do all the leading. He'd never complained, but now she wondered if he'd ever wanted her like this, completely uninhibited.
"You're always full of surprises, Dana. Just when I think I have a handle on you..."
I could really surprise the hell out of you, she dourly thought, but I won't. Not now, not ever.
As always, John fell asleep almost immediately. She couldn't, her mind busily racing away with horrible little stabs of guilt.
She disentangled herself from his arms but John slept away, exhausted by travel and furious sex.
In the bathroom she took a quick, hot shower and then wrapped herself in her bathrobe to wander out into the living room. It wasn't even midnight yet. She made a cup of green tea and turned on the computer, hooking the connect cable behind her ear.
She didn't really know why she was checking her Mailserve account. There would be nothing from Mulder, of that she was certain. They had definitively said goodbye the other morning.
Still, she felt disappointed when she found nothing from him in her inbox.
Feeling as if she were outside her body and watching herself do it, she punched in the coordinates for Mulder's Netspace. Her Net Tracker told her he wasn't online, but she went there all the same.
Dana stood outside the Netspace's door, wondering if the security program would allow her to enter. She stepped forward and was sucked through the blackness and onto the beach.
This time, the beach was bathed in darkness, the only light that of the full moon above the water and a thick canopy of bright stars overhead. She looked around in amazement. It was indeed the same beach as the one she'd seen in her dream the night before.
How odd dreams were...
Dana slipped off her virtual shoes and socks, and walked onto the squishy, wet sand, the cold waves lapping at her feet.
After a while, she began to cry.
She wondered how real tears were in cyberspace.
When she finally disconnected and found herself back in her living room, her face was wet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As morning turned to afternoon, Dana sat in her small office, stuck on a speech she was due to give at a symposium in late March. She wasn't especially fond of public speaking for large groups but at the same time she was looking forward to traveling to London with Meghan for the conference. Parts of the city, including Buckingham Palace, had either escaped the invasion's destruction or been restored, and she already had pages from a London guidebook downloaded into her palm computer. Meghan never failed to tease her about this kind of overly-anal behavior.
Now she was trying to decide on a joke for the opening of the speech. She lifted her head at a knock on her half-closed door. "Come in," she called out.
Meghan poked her head in. "Dana-Fred, Jenny and I are going down to the deli for lunch. Want to come along?"
She shook her head. "This is the only chance I have to work on the speech this week. I'll get something later."
Her partner mock pouted. "Are you sure? We haven't really talked in days."
"Too much to do." Dana removed her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes.
"Okay, fine. But don't forget that we're going over the latest results with Fred at three."
"I'll be there."
More coffee, she thought after Meghan left, and poured another cup from the thermal carafe. She was running on a chronic sleep shortage and only massive caffeine intake was allowing her to concentrate on her work. Dana briefly fantasized about a week at a fancy hotel, all alone and far away from her problems and conflicts, with nothing to do but purchase movies on the telescreen and sleep in a comfortable bed. But it wasn't going to happen. There was too much to do.
There was another knock at her door. "Meghan," she said with a short laugh. "I told you I have to work on my speech."
"Is this a bad time, Dana?"
The blood drained from her face and for a sickening moment she feared she might pass out.
Oh. Mulder. What the hell are you doing here?
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Her eyes drank in the sight of him-the nervous expression on his face, the way his fingers clutched the handle of his briefcase.
"I'm sorry to just show up like this, but I had a meeting across the street." He laid the briefcase down on her desk and popped it open. "You forgot your birthday present when you left."
She shut her eyes for a second and let the pain of that morning wash through her body. Dana touched her cheek. "I can't believe I forgot it."
She rose from her chair and he handed her the black leather book. For a moment their hands brushed against each other and a shiver ran through her at his touch.
"I wanted you to have it." As Mulder turned to leave, his eyes found the framed photograph on top of her bookshelf. It was a picture of John, Julia and Dana, taken on Julia's second birthday. Dana was lighting the candles on the birthday cake and John held Julia on his lap while the little girl giggled and tried to grab the candles.
Mulder stared at the picture for a long moment. "So, this is John," he said softly.
She nodded.
Mulder and John had never met. Perhaps it was good for Mulder to see a picture of John, to make the man in her life as real to him as Sarah was real to Dana.
He turned to her, his eyes infinitely sad. "How are you doing, Dana?"
She shrugged. "I'm okay."
He took a few steps closer to her, close enough that she could smell him, or at least imagine she could. "I'm not," he said flatly. "I'm not doing very well."
Dana found herself meeting the gap between them with two steps. She looked up at his beautiful, mournful face.
"It's going to take time, Mulder."
He clasped her hands in his. His hands were so warm, as warm as his body in the middle of the night. "I don't know if I can get over you, or if I want to."
"We have to," she said with what she hoped was vehemence, but her rebellious body rose to kiss him all the same.
Nothing had changed in the past few days; kissing him was still as intense and fulfilling as always. Kissing Mulder was everything; it made every kiss she'd shared with John seem shallow and bleak. Her mouth opened to him and they both whimpered a little as their tongues met.
Her hands pulled his body closer to her, his body heat radiating into her, his erection seeming to taunt her by firmly pressing into her belly. She found herself wanting to lock the door so she could have him again, to briefly lose herself in loving Mulder. Or better yet, to spend the afternoon at the Cascade Falls, wrapped in the sheets and each other, sharing their secrets.
I don't love John, she dizzily thought, not like this. I love him because of shared history and responsibility and because of his inherent goodness, but I will never be able to love him as wholly as this. Never.
Mulder pulled away, breathing hard and wiping her lipstick off his mouth with the back of his hand. "We can't do this," he said in a hoarse voice. "We can't sneak around. It's not what I want."
She bowed her head in shame. "I'm sorry. It's clear that we really can't be alone together."
"I don't know what to do," he said.
Wasn't that the refrain running though their relationship?
"We have to give John and Sarah a chance. We owe it to them."
He nodded.
If only they could be less noble and simply shake free of their bonds and be together.
"I hope we can," he said, blinking away tears.
"Me, too."
He grabbed his briefcase and walked out of her office without another word.
Dana sat back down and watched her hands shaking in her lap. She didn't have time to cry; she had a speech to write.
She took another slug of hot coffee and ordered herself to get back to work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Tube was crowded that night but she managed to squeeze into a hard plastic seat two stops down the line. "Please take caution, the doors are closing," said the melodious voice on the loudspeaker. "The next stop is Binghamton Crossing."
Dana idly watched the other people in the car. Some looked relaxed and happy, chatting away or reading, and others seemed stressed. She wondered if she looked as depressed and strung-out as she felt.
She fished through her bag until she found the journal. What a gorgeous gift. Jewelry and perfume were sweet, but she'd never received anything as deeply meaningful as this. Mulder just had an uncanny ability to know her, to know what her heart needed.
Dana opened the book and touched the thick, slightly rough paper. Paper just wasn't made like this anymore. There was no need, as nearly all information conveyed electronically.
There was some writing on the second page. She stifled a small gasp, which made the man sitting next to her shoot her a curious look.
The writing was black pen on the cream paper, small and angular writing. She knew it was Mulder's handwriting even though she'd never seen it before.
With dread mixed with excitement, she read the words written there.
Craving
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
Pablo Neruda
There is no reason, no excuse for our love, Dana, but it is undeniably there. We've made our decision and intend to honor it, but it doesn't change the way I feel and I suspect it's the same for you.
The night we spent together will remain the shining memory of my life.
With love,
M
February, 2004
When she finished reading the poem, she closed the book and turned her head to stare, largely unseeing, at the concrete subway tunnel rushing past.
"The sovereign nose of your arrogant face." She touched her much-hated nose and smiled.
Mulder, I never knew how lonely I was until I met you.
"We are now approaching Morningside Heights. Please step carefully onto the platform."
The bright and crowded Tube station assaulted her senses as soon as she walked off the train. A burly, bald man in a trench coat shoved her as he passed and she nearly twisted her ankle as she careened into a trashcan. Got to get out of here, she thought, gritting her teeth and plunging through the horde, past the bright mosaic walls that depicted children frolicking.
She had almost reached the escalator when she felt the wave of nausea building, saw the multitude of tiny gold spots wavering before her eyes. Not again, she frantically thought, but her stomach gave a sharp heave and she went running for the nearest bathroom.
It was too late, though. She only made it as far as the trash receptacle outside the bathrooms before she lost the contents of her stomach. Shame burned through her as she felt the eyes of passers-by on her while she retched.
After she lifted her head from the can, she saw a familiar figure standing next to her.
"Holy shit," Evan said under his breath. "Are you okay, Dana?"
She shook her head, sensing the migraine gathering force.
He took her by the elbow and led her to a row of plastic seats. "I'll be right back," Evan said and took off, his leather jacket flying behind him.
Dana closed her eyes and tried to breathe as the pain escalated.
Evan returned with a bunch of paper napkins and a bottle of water that he'd bought from the little convenience store across the way. She tried to smile in thanks and fumbled to uncap the bottle. It wouldn't come open in her fingers and she nearly screamed in frustration.
Her unlikely savior deftly removed the cap and handed her the bottle and she took a long drink, trying to wash the sour taste of vomit out of her mouth.
"Did you eat something that didn't agree with you?" he asked.
She shook her head, noticing that since she'd last seen Evan, he'd gotten rid of the braids and was now sporting a bright-red afro, studded with multicolored wires and beads. She needed a chart to keep up with his ever-changing hairstyles.
"A migraine," she said, shrugging. "It happens to me sometimes."
"Let's get you home," he said and helped her up.
The two-block walk home seemed to take an eternity, with her stomach still lurching and her head pounding away. Evan was considerate, walking at her pace, his arm looped through hers for support.
On the elevator she slumped against the wall, wishing the sappy soft-classical music would just shut up.
Evan took her to her door. "I hope you feel better, Dana."
"Thanks for rescuing me." She squeezed his arm and kissed his cheek, just to see his embarrassed expression.
"Say, I'm sorry I haven't gotten to looking for your friend. I'll try to do it as soon as possible."
"Don't worry about it." Mulder was gone now. She could never see him again. What had happened in her office had made that crystal clear.
The door opened and John appeared, already changed into his at-home sweats. His face paled when he saw Dana. "Are you all right?"
The nausea rose again and she pushed past him to the bathroom. On the way she heard Evan explaining about the Tube station and her migraine.
She stumbled out of the bathroom, hitting on her Migranex inhaler and kicking off her shoes at the same time. John was standing in front of the bed with Julia clinging to his back. "Another one, huh? When was your last migraine?"
Setting the tube on the bedside table, she began to unbutton her blouse. "Just a few days ago."
"Promise me you'll call your doctor in the morning."
She nodded and threw the blouse on the floor. Normally she would either toss the blouse in the laundry hamper or hang it in the closet so it wouldn't wrinkle, but the pain was getting so bad she just plain didn't care what happened to it. John set Julia down and handed Dana a pair of flannel pajamas.
He kissed the top of her head. "Get some rest," he murmured. "I'll try to keep Julia to a dull roar."
"Is Mommy sick?" Julia piped up.
"Just a little bit," John said. "Why don't we go and make quesadillas?"
After she changed and got into bed, Dana felt the drug-induced stupor hitting her, but the pain didn't seem to lessen. Instead, she felt as if her head were splitting into a thousand fragments.
Breathe, just breathe.
Pain, pain, go away, come again some other day.
Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day. Missy and I sing this on the way to CCD from school, splashing in the puddles until our pants are soaked. Mom is gonna be mad, but it's fun to jump in a big one and get the water all over Missy. She yelps at me and stomps her boot, splashing me, too.
Rain, dripping down the windows as I curl up on the couch, a fire lit in the hearth, trying to read through the pain, waiting for the painkillers to take effect.
Can I tell you my secret?
In the side of my bag is a zippered pocket and in that pocket is a plastic bag which holds seventy-five of my pain pills. It's my secret stash, the one I can't tell anyone about.
When it gets too bad, when I can't handle it anymore, I'll take myself and that bag to a hotel. Check in, pour a nice glass of wine and one by one, swallow the pills.
I'll only do it if I have to. I need to die with dignity.
I've already written my letter to you.
God will forgive me, I know this. I can't believe that he wants me to suffer in the end, to become blind, to lose my motor functions, to become a helpless creature trapped in her bed as the invader eats her from inside. God cannot be that cruel.
I'll fight to the end, but the minute the battle becomes a losing one, I'll just let go.
Is it like sleep?
Stay tonight, stay with me. In the morning you can go into your room and mess up the bed like you actually slept there. I know it's against some arcane regulation, but stay with me.
Hey, Scully, did you know that the word for 'to kiss' in Romany, the language of the Gypsies, literally means, 'to eat?' If they want to say, 'I want to kiss you,' they say, 'I want to eat your face.'
Did I really need to know that information?
I want to eat your face. I want to eat your lips, your neck, your breasts.
Did you know you talk in your sleep?
Dad, you never met him, but I wish you had. I know you disapproved of my ultimate choice, of the path I decided to follow, but I think you'd be proud of me all the same. And I think you could have grown to love him. He's nothing like you, of course, but he has the same strength of spirit. And he loves me. He loves me the way Jack and Ethan never could, with absolute surrender to the condition. And I love him wholly, because watching you and Mom over the years taught me that such a thing is possible.
It's not possible. I don't believe.
The world will not end.
they'recomingthey'recomingthey'recoming
Get up, get up, we have to run, it's too late, we have to get supplies and hide and do what we can to survive.
Two days and two nights and it all ends here.
Do you remember that time when we got away? The weekend in New York, happily anonymous in the crowd, ignoring pending cases to eat overpriced bistro food at Choucroute and drink too much wine and the way every night we stumbled back to our room at the Plaza to make love to each other. The way the room smelled after we woke and ordered room service, like roses and hot coffee and newspaper and our sweat and love on the sheets.
Do you remember?
I remember.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been more than five years since my last confession. I have committed the sin of adultery. I have fallen in love with a man who is not my husband. I have sinned but I love him, Father. He wants to know my secrets and I want to know his.
If I tried to tell you, John, would you even listen?
Why can't you understand that I need to remember?
Say the Act of Contrition and a decade of the rosary, Dana. Ask God for His forgiveness.
I don't know if I want to be forgiven. I don't know if I need to be forgiven.
We will be together in the next life, I promise.
I want to believe, Scully.
I look at the ruined land below me and wonder why it took me so long to believe.
When I wake, I'm coughing.
I want my mother to tuck me into bed with a spoonful of Robitussin and the heating pad. And when I wake, I want her chicken noodle soup and her warm hand on my forehead.
Not tonight, Scully, it's not time, let's just keep each other warm, please, for me, one more night, I want to see another morning with you.
Put down the gun.
Put down the gun, you're stronger than this. You bastard! I slam my hand on the table so hard I fear I've broken a small bone, but their concentration doesn't waver, they are focused on death. Don't let yourself be pushed, you're stronger than that.
Oh God, do you hear it? Can you feel it coming? The earth is shaking under us.
Hold my hand, this is it.
Somehow, I always knew we'd die together. As strong as we are, there's no way one could survive without the other. Can you even imagine such an existence?
We will be together in the next life.
It's coming.
It was just a dress rehearsal before. It was simple vandalism. This is the real deal.
Look, the sky, how beautiful. It's just lovely...
Hold my hand.
This is it.
We end right here.
It feels so intimate.
We end together.
Light in her face roused Dana and she felt John's hand on her cheek. "What?" she mumbled, the pain still fiercely raging in her skull.
"Get up, honey," he said in a gentle voice. "We have to get you to a doctor."
She shook her head like a petulant child. "I don't need a doctor, I am a-"
John cut her off. "You're bleeding."
Her hand rose to her face and instinctively went to her nose.
When she took her hand away, she saw it was crimson with blood.
End of Part 4 of 6.