untitled
'ONE
LONELY NIGHT'
By: Kimogen
Authors notes: I really should be writing an essay right
now...call this procrastination if you will. And the dates are
all pretty cagey, in fact, having spent an hour working on the
dates, I have discovered that I'm crap with timeline: so I made
it all up.
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APARTMENT
OF DANA SCULLY
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON DC
OCTOBER 27 2002
Having left Agents Doggett and Reyes back at the quarry, Dana
drove home to her apartment alone. She swung the door open to
discover that the Lone Gunmen had been efficient in their task.
The apartment had been swept for bugs and the three men were
seated, side by side on her couch. She knew what they had found
from the grave expressions on their faces.
"How bad is it guys?" Her question belied her inner
turmoil with its casualness, a fact she was momentarily proud of.
Frohike stood and Dana felt her heart contract with affection for
the tiny man. The trio had been so good to her since Mulder's
disappearance. She owed them so much.
"Its bad, Scully." She nodded and turned to Langley,
who held up a transparent plastic bag of electronic equipment.
"Listening devices in every room, visual equipment
positioned at various vantage points." Frohike paused,
deciding she didn't need elaboration. "Basically, you've got
top of the range stuff here. The best."
"How...How much could have been...picked up?" Dana felt
a flush rise up over her chest, caused by the sudden mixture of
embarrassment and anger, the horror at the invasion of her
privacy evident on her face. The three men refused to meet her
eye and she knew the violation had been complete. She gasped
slightly. "Everywhere?" The silence spoke for them.
Dana dropped into a chair, fighting tears. "Is the place
clean now?" Byers nodded as he approached her.
"To the best of our knowledge. We've checked everywhere,
scanned and checked again. We'll organise a rota at your
convenience. We can do this every week, every day if need
be." He placed a hand on her shoulder, a sheepish look on
his face. Dana's nod, followed by her stunned silence gave them
their cue to leave and the Gunmen had traipsed out, taking the
bag of electronics with them. They knew from long experience that
Dana Scully liked to do her grieving in private.
Dana remained on her couch for almost an hour until her mother
arrived with baby William. She feigned normality for the benefit
of her over-protective parent, accepting the offer of dinner on
Friday and spending long minutes discussing the floral
arrangements her mother was preparing for the church. The false
interest was agonising for Dana, who just wanted to crawl into
bed and stay there, the covers over her head. Finally, her mother
left.
She balanced William on one hip as she moved around the
apartment, following the parting advice of the Gunmen and
covering all of her windows. Pulling down roman blinds and
sliding closed Venetians, Dana clung to her son as she moved from
room to room. Eventually, she made her way into the bedroom. She
stared at the big, comfortable bed and hugged William's tiny body
closer to her. She was comforted by his warmth and his sweet
baby-scent as she climbed onto the bed, dragging the comforter
around her shoulders. She lay William in the centre and snuggled
beside him, one hand resting upon his tiny baby chest. William
whined slightly and waved his arms and legs in protest against
being put to bed so soon, but he quickly succumbed to sleep,
opening his mouth wide and letting out a snuffling yawn that
scrunched up his features and made his mother smile. Dana stroked
his soft cheek as he dropped quickly off to sleep, exhausted by a
long day playing with his doting Grandma.
Dana longed for sleep to come so easily to her, knowing that it
wouldn't. She had too many thoughts running through her head to
sleep much that night. Instead, she sat up, looking around the
room, wondering where the devices had been: where she had been
watched from, where her conversations had been heard from. She
felt a sudden defiance rising in her chest, suddenly hoping that
the people watching her had enjoyed the show, that her life had
been entertaining. She certainly hoped she had shocked a few
people with the things that had gone on in that apartment. After
all, the little darling that slept soundly beside her had been
conceived in the bed she sat on.
Dana lay back against the pillows, a single tear escaping to run
unbidden down her cheek. Her emotions were so mixed, she didn't
know how to feel. She was so alone in that instant that the pain
in her heart became physical. Dana sat forward, the tears coming
suddenly, catching her off guard. Sobs quickly wracked her body,
hysteria building unannounced as Dana thought about the danger
that Mulder was in. So much had happened that day. There was no
way she could even contact him, no way he could get a message to
her, telling her he was alive. She could only hope that he had
escaped the quarry.
John had searched the quarry in the hope of catching up to
Mulder, whilst Monica had stayed with her in the car, the heaters
running full blast to stave off the effects of the impending
shock. Dana had allowed her to brush her hair back, stroking her
arm as she wrapped a blanket tighter around her. Dana had been
glad for the younger woman's support, glad for her friendship.
She and Monica had become close over the months since William's
birth. She had a lot to be grateful for. But John had come up
with nothing. Mulder knew it wasn't safe to be found.
Finally the tears had stopped. William woke and demanded to be
fed. Dana always nursed her son in the rocking chair in the
nursery, it made her feel somehow closer to Mulder, knowing that
was how he would remember them, mother and baby. She rocked
herself gently, allowing the rhythm to sooth her as the baby
snuffled and suckled contentedly in her arms. Dana allowed her
eyes to slip closed, thinking back to the first time she had
seated herself in the chair and fed her new-born son.
* * *
APARTMENT OF DANA SCULLY
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON DC
22 MAY 2002
Dana had allowed Mulder to reposition the chair for her as she
hovered in the doorway of the nursery, holding their angry son as
he declared his hunger, exercising his new-born lungs. At only
two days old, he had proven to be a good baby, rarely crying,
except when he was hungry. Mulder helped her lower herself
gingerly into the seat, still sore from the difficult birth, only
days before. Mulder was cringing as much as she was, offering to
fetch her a rubber ring in his effort to make light of the
situation. She had scoffed as she unbuttoned her shirt, telling
him that was for haemorrhoids, and that she would be fine, so
long as he didn't ask her to do it again any time soon. Mulder
had let her in on his plan to keep her pregnant and barefoot for
the next twenty years, smiling down at their beautiful little
boy, latched contentedly to his mother's swollen breast. Mulder
had cried then, as he knelt at her feet, stroking his son's downy
head.
* * *
APARTMENT OF DANA SCULLY
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON DC
OCTOBER 27 2002
Dana lowered the baby into his crib, fed, burped, changed and
ready for sleep once again. She was glad of their night-time
rituals, knowing that she would see her son again at around three
am, not quite sleeping through, but generally having around five
hours at a time. He always managed to call her from the depths of
her worst nightmares, as though the little boy was woken by his
mother's anguish. She smiled as she patted his little bottom and
lay him flat on his back, his eyes already closed. She gazed down
at him a moment longer before turning off the main light and
leaving him. William truly was her pride and joy.
Dana moved into the bathroom and brushed her hair back into a
ponytail, high on the back of her head. She washed her face in
the sink, starting the shower and allowing the water to heat as
she stripped her clothes. As she dropped her sweater into the
laundry basket by the door, she wondered exactly how much had
been seen by the strange man who seemed to know so much about
her. Admittedly, he had told her he knew everything. Dana
shuddered as she stepped under the spray, drawing the curtain
around her and shivering, despite the hot water.
* * *
APARTMENT OF DANA SCULLY
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON DC
19 NOVEMBER 2000
Mulder had offered to help her 'wash up' before dinner that
night. She had offered to cook on arrival at the office that
morning, but a hectic day of meeting after meeting and a stack of
paperwork had left her energy reserves low. They had still met up
at her place, but decided against the lasagne she had intended on
making, instead opting for a quick salad. They were both eager to
get beyond dinner as it was. Mulder had made it his personal
mission to drive her insane all day, with his heated glances
across the conference table in Skinner's office, his arm brushing
her breast as he reached for a file rested on the corner of
Kersh's desk, and then his shoeless foot running the length of
her calf as she delivered her report to a panel of directors. He
had even gone so far as to pinch her bottom as she left the room,
making her squeal in front of six assistant directors. And at the
time, she hoped no one on the crowded elevator heard her moan as
his erection ground into her from behind.
But as he stripped her slowly naked and pulled her into the
shower, Dana was glad for the fact that there was no cooked meal
to go cold whilst Mulder begged for forgiveness for his bad
behaviour beneath the hot spray. Dana had been only too quick to
forgive as his hands, then his tongue and finally his rock hard
penis had made it up to her. As Dana's cries had echoed off the
tiles, she had decided that the day's tensions had been worth it.
* * *
APARTMENT OF DANA SCULLY
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON DC
OCTOBER 27 2002
Dana had shut off the shower with shaking fingers and quickly
towelled off. The bathroom seemed suddenly ice-cold around her
and she couldn't wait to be dry and clothed once again. Forgoing
dinner, Dana slid into bed, pulling the covers around her and
over her head in an effort to get warm. Her eyes closed easily,
but sleep did not come. She lay there, shivering until her teeth
chattered, huddled beneath the covers, praying for sleep to
swallow her for a few hours before William woke. As she lay
there, trying to forget the events of the day, Dana allowed her
mind to wander. She thought of all the nights she had lain awake
in that very bed. She smiled at the realisation that Mulder's
insomnia had rubbed off on her many years before they had ever
spent a night together. His erratic sleep patterns had led her to
sleep with one eye open, always ready for the phone to ring, even
at three, four, five am. He had always laughed at how she would
sleep anywhere, at any time; in the car, on a plane, in waiting
rooms...anywhere she could rest her head on one hand. Little did
he know that he was the root of her narcolepsy.
Dana turned over in the big bed, thinking back to one particular
sleepless night. Remembering the words of the mysterious man who
had duped her so easily, Dana shuddered. She knew from his
revelation that he had witnessed her moment of weakness, how she
had invited Mulder into her bed one lonely night. With her eyes
squeezed tightly closed, Dana allowed the memories to wash over
her, unbidden, playing as clear as the video tape they had
undoubtedly been recorded onto, by some unknown source.
* * *
APARTMENT OF DANA SCULLY
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON DC
FEBRUARY 16 2000
Dana had been unable to sleep at all for nearly a week. She had
snatched brief moments, but never more than an hour or so at a
time. She was functioning on adrenaline, knowing that their
caseload was heavy and that by throwing herself into her work,
she would hopefully be able to forget the events of the past
week. Mulder had offered to stay with her the night she had
discovered the truth about the unsuccessful IVF, but she had sent
him on his way shortly after midnight, needing to grieve in
private. That was how Agent Scully did things. In private. Of
course, he had protested, but she had refused, choosing to ignore
his own sorrow at the failure, too consumed by her own needs. She
had spent a restless night wandering the rooms of her small
apartment in the dark, refusing to cry. By morning, she was
concerned that there were visible track-marks left in the thick
carpeting.
Days had passed and Dana remained isolated. Mulder tried so hard
to make her talk about it, but she shrugged his pleas off with a
generic 'I'm fine', seeing him cringe every time the words left
her lips. She could see how her pain affected him, but found
herself unable to speak the words that ran on a loop through her
head. Instead, she tried so hard to forget.
Finally, six nights after it happened, Dana Scully broke. She
found the phone in her hand before she realised what she was
doing, and the speed-dial was calling Mulder's number. Unable to
speak through the sobs that finally escaped the walls she had
built up, she had cried into the phone at the sound of his voice.
Mulder had dressed and gathered his things with the phone pressed
to his ear calling desperately down the phone to her, begging her
to stay with him as he rushed to his car and sped to her
apartment, running more stoplights in that one journey than he
had in his entire life, leaving him glad for the late hour.
Mulder had found her curled in a tiny ball on her side in the
middle of the bed, the covers pulled up and around her. He had
pulled the quilt back and drawn her into his arms, telling her
that it would all be fine, that she was going to be fine. His
words of comfort had made her cry all the harder, her sorrow
unstoppable once it was released, and Mulder had suddenly found
his own tears relentless. He had joined her then, their hearts
pouring out in a torrent of guilt and love and fear. They ended
up, wrapped together, tearstained and heartbroken at the
realisation of what could never be.
He had pressed kisses onto her skin as he rocked her in his arms,
lulling her like a child, murmuring nonsense down into her hair.
Dana had clung to him, begging him to never let her go, telling
him she loved him more than life itself, pleading with him to
take her away, away from the Truth and conspiracies and little
green men. He couldn't bring himself to tell her no, but even in
her misery, she knew his heart would never belong to her alone.
She didn't care. Dana had already bared her soul to him that
night, and when he finally tugged the covers over them both,
still holding her tightly, she begged him to make love to her, to
make her feel human again, kissing his face and along his neck,
tracing the planes of his body with trembling fingers.
Mulder had stilled her roaming hands, pulling her away and
telling her he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to. He
blamed her emotional state, despite her insistence, as she
struggled angrily against him, telling him she loved him,
shouting the words, unashamed. Dana Scully had spent too much
time being ashamed, hiding her feelings in the shadows and she
told him as much, lashing out. She had implored him to believe
her, asked him why he didn't want her when he said he loved her.
She had cried all over again, soaking his shirt with her tears as
he held her to him, his words masking the desire he felt surging
in his body as she curled her tiny form against him, kissing any
skin she could reach.
Finally, he succumbed. Mulder had laid her gently upon the
mattress, his hand light against her cheek and along her jaw. He
traced the vee of her pyjama-top and pressed his fingers into the
valley of her breasts, unbuttoning as he went. He watched her
heaving chest as he stripped her clothes away, his mouth setting
light to every inch of skin that it touched, her chest, her
stomach, her thighs. He had divested his own clothes quickly as
she lay still in the centre of the bed, her eyes closed, wearing
only her underwear. Mulder had returned to her and peeled away
her simple lingerie, leaving her naked and trembling beneath his
touch. She was ready for him immediately, brushing his hand away
and pulling him towards her, dragging his body down to cover her
completely as his mouth descended upon hers. Their kisses were
hot, tongues mimicking their movements elsewhere and he plunged
into her, filling her completely. Dana cried out his name, urging
him to be more brutal with her, harder, faster. He was driving
into her with all his strength and still it wasn't enough.
Finally, Mulder felt her clench around him, her hot little body
becoming rigid beneath him and it was all too much for him. He
followed her, shouting out her name as he came, driving her down
into the soft mattress and forcing the air from her lungs.
It was Dana who had endeavoured to roll them over, covering him
like a blanket with her hot and sticky body. Mulder managed to
reach around and draw the quilt over them as the sweat began to
cool, leaving them shivering in the darkness. He rubbed a hand
idly along her spine, whispering that he loved her into her hair,
which cascaded over his face, ticking his nose. Dana smiled
against his chest, her tongue flicking out to taste him one last
time before she drifted off into a deep sleep.
They had slept like that until they were woken in the morning by
the ringing of the phone.
* * *
APARTMENT OF DANA SCULLY
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON DC
OCTOBER 27 2002
Turning in the bed, Dana cringed at the thought that some unknown
stranger had witnessed the events of a night that should have
been so private. She had no qualms about sharing her deepest
needs and insecurities with Mulder that night, he was her
soul-mate after all. They had discovered that much early on in
their partnership, even before Mulder had admitted that she was
his constant, his touchstone. But the thought that some quiet
observer had witnessed it all, watching them on a screen
somewhere, like a soap-opera, made her stomach churn with
disgust. She longed to be able to call Mulder, to have him rush
to her side, and take her into his arms and rock her gently as
she cried. She wanted to see him so badly it made her ache for
him.
From the nursery, William began to cry, alerting her to the time
and causing her to glance at the clock. It read 3:27. She must
have slept, even though her body didn't feel as though she had.
Dana threw back the covers and padded to the nursery, hoisting
her son up into her arms, ready for his night feed.
AN END
Disclaimer:
These characters are the property of someone undoubtedly richer
than me. Which isn't hard right now.
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