From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Fri,  8 Jun 2012 20:32:39 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: The Moment: Season Two (1/3) by Tessa Moore
Source: direct

Reply To: tess.moore.xf@gmail.com


The Moment: Season 2 (1/3)
By Tessa Moore
Disclaimer: They're not mine!

Summary: The progression of Mulder and Scully's
relationship OFF camera. 


 

____________________________________________

I.

He looked chagrined, standing at her door, 
his head turned down, and his eyes barely 
meeting hers. It was late - nearly 10 pm, and
Scully had been putzing around her apartment,
with little left to do with her time, and no
want for sleep. She was glad to see him. Truth
of the matter was, her life had become 
monotonous and irritatingly mundane since 
they'd been split up. Seeing him at her door
in his leather jacket and jeans made her heart
leap a bit. Seeing HIM made her feel like 
the world was right-side up again. Working 
with him for one year had completely changed
her way of thinking, working, and living.  

"What are you doing here, Mulder?" Her tone 
was nonplussed, but her eyes were welcoming
as she moved away from the doorframe to allow
him by. 

"It occurred to me that I have a lot to say to
you. And I didn't say any of the things I 
should have when we saw each other earlier 
today. Plus, I was bored." He flashed her his
most boyish and charming smile. 

Scully couldn't deny that she was intrigued by
what he'd said earlier in the day. "I still 
have you". It was the most endearing and 
intimate thing Mulder had ever said to her. He
usually held his cards close, and though she 
knew he thought of her as a close friend and 
valued work partner, his words made her think
he might think of her as more. Her trip to 
Puerto Rico and their dangerous and bold 
escape from the observatory were the most 
excitement she'd seen in months. She didn't 
know what it said about her that she only felt
alive and "right" when she was running for her
life.  

Scully smiled to him,"Well, I'll have to see
if I can clear some time for you out of my busy
laundry schedule." 

"Laundry again, Scully? I thought you said 
laundry was boring?" He waggled his eyebrows at
the inside joke. 

"Boring, it may be... But the Bureau may not 
let me through the doors anymore when I start 
attracting flies."

Mulder's smile broadened. "Oh, come on! That's
the first rule of forensic pathology: If it 
attracts flies, it MUST be truly interesting!"

Scully shook her head at his joke. "Sit down.
You want anything to drink?" 

He waved her off 'no', but gestured for her to
join him on the couch. She joined him quietly,
comfortably curling her legs under her. 

"I mostly just wanted to apologize to you."

Her brows knit in confusion. "What for? Mulder,
you don't owe me any apology. I never thought
I'd enjoy running for my life as much as I did
the other day." 

"Has anyone ever told you you're twisted, Scully?"
His tone was teasing. "But that's not what I 
wanted to apologize to you about. It has more to
do with my avoiding you, making you meet me in
some shadowy corner of a parking garage. I sat
there and thought for a second after you left.
You deserve better."

She didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow
in question. 

"I didn't want to have an open friendship with 
you, because I'd been made aware of just how 
dangerous things have gotten. You know, it 
scared the crap out of me, what happened with 
Deep Throat." 

Scully interrupted him. "And I'm sorry I said
what I did to you. I KNOW how deepy you cared 
about him and about what he did for you. I 
shouldn't have made light of that." 

Mulder took in her honest and open gaze for a
moment, knowing what he wanted to say, but 
unsure if it was wise to say it. But He'd made 
himself come over, knowing that things couldn't
continue the way they had. It wasn't fair to
either of them.

"No, Scully, you were right. I almost didn't 
care what happened to Deep Throat, because I 
was so relieved that it didn't happen to you. I
don't know what I would do if you were killed 
by some fault of my own. I don't think I could 
live with myself."

A sharp silence engulfed the room, and under 
his scrutiny, Scully allowed the meaning of his 
words to sink in. "That'd disturbing, Mulder. I 
don't know what to say..."

"I know its disturbing, but its the truth. And
you know how big a fan I am of the truth." 
He smiled, attempting to lighten the mood. 

The silence was back, neither agent quite sure
what to say to the other. Finally, Scully 
cleared her throat and broke the pause. 

"So, what do we do now?"

Mulder shook his head. "I don't know. I hate
my assignment... I get the feeling you're not 
too thrilled with yours. Wanna elope?"

Scully let out a gasping snigger. "That'd 
make way too many people way too happy, Mulder."

"Oh, I know. I promise I'll call from now on,
when I need help from you. You know I need you,
right?" His eyes were serious, as he stared 
into her face. 

Scully nodded. "I need you, too."

_______________________________________________

II. 

"What's the occasion, Mulder?" Scully was 
smiling amiably as they settled themselves into
a nice table at the steak house. The atmosphere
was pleasant, and upscale, but still family-
welcome. It was nicer than Mulder usually 
dragged her to on a case. 

"Well, I just spent several days exploring the
life of the average sewage worker. I thought I 
could use an excuse to clean myself up and 
remind myself that I don't normally spend my 
days wading in excrement." He didn't tell Scully
that he'd showered three times that day, and still
felt like there was a certain "aroma" about him. 

"Well, I appreciate the gesture." Scully smiled 
at him over the generic table setting. "Its been
a while since I've had something other than a 
Lean Cuisine over the kitchen sink." 

Mulder suddenly looked concerned, and Scully was 
quick to back-peddle. "I'm sorry, Mulder.. that 
sounded vaguely pathetic." 

"Are you OK, Scully?" His voice was soft and his
face was earnest. 

Scully sighed. "Let's put it this way... I'm 
happy to see you. Thanks for coming to my rescue."

"I would have thought someone would have snatched
you up, now that you're out from under the thumb
of ol' Spooky. Seriously, Scully, you sound so 
lonely." 

"Like I said, I don't want to sound pathetic, Mulder, 
but I let most of my friends go after I started 
working with you. None of my Bureau friends understand 
the work. My friends outside the Bureau all have 
husbands, children. I didn't have time for them. I
don't date, because no one askes me. Although, I 
did have a fantastic time uncovering the Fluke Man
of New Jersey with one hell of a great partner."

Mulder smiled. "Yeah, he is a really great guy, 
isn't he? A real charmer, too." 

"Mmm-hmm...Cute." Scully winked at him. Mulder 
didn't think Scully was capable of anything so 
heavy-handed as a wink. "But sometimes, I think he's 
just a little self-obsessed. A terrible 
work-aholic."

"You coming on to me, Scully?" He delivered his 
usual line with a sly smile. 

Scully quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, I thought we were 
talking about Krycek..."  

___________________________________________________

III. 

Sitting in the diner alone, Mulder ruminated on the
fact that, for the first time in many years, he had
nothing to do. Polishing off half a pie by his 
lonesome, he stared at the chipped booth table
absently, unaware of the woman at the register. She'd
been watching him since he came in, unable to avert
her eyes from him. Sure, he was a fine looking man, 
but that had little to do with it. 

Bess was nearing 60, and she'd already watched the 
love of her life come and go; Perhaps he'd gone a 
little early, but he would surely be her last love, 
too. No, she was more interested in what had left the 
man at the booth in such terrible condition. People 
usually went to the bar to drown their sorrows; they 
didn't typically go to the nearest hole-in-the-wall 
diner and feed their face until they puked. Although, 
she supposed, the result was frightening similar. 

She had a feeling it was an interesting story. The 
man looked well-off. His suit was obviously tailored,
and a brand name. She thought the folded cuffs meant
it was Armani, but Bess had never been taken by 
brands. It was clear that this man took pride in his
appearance, though. He was well-shaven, his stubble 
just peeking through at this 6 pm hour. His suit 
appeared worked in, but not dirty. The creases were
mostly still pressed in his pants. He'd removed his
jacket, but still wore his tie. He'd rolled up his
sleeves before he began eating. His face, though, 
looked so tired. She knew that look: It was the look
of total defeat. 

When the man shifted to his side, looking out the 
window, Bess noticed the weapon for the first time. 
It was holstered, unambiguous. He was a cop. Bess
was familiar with the cops and FBI types. The diner
was near the bureau, and offered cheap but tasty 
food. She saw her fair share of them. Mostly, they
kept to themselves. Honestly, she thought they were
all a little wrapped up in themselves. 

"Can I get you more coffee?" Mulder startled at the
voice beside him. He hadn't heard her coming. When 
he turned, he gave Bess a once-over, as though it 
was the first time he'd seen her. Hell, Bess thought,
he'd been so out of it, he probably hadn't noticed 
he was speaking to a human, not a robot. 

Bess demured at his stare, and Mulder realized he'd
been staring. She reminded him of one of his aunts.
He hadn't seen her since he was in his twenties. 
She'd always been an odd duck amongst his all too 
put-together family. She'd had plenty of money, but
bought cheap things, and filled her house with kitsch.
She wore her hair too-bright blond, and her lips 
too pink. She smoked like a chimney and never married,
having sworn she had too much life in her to let a
man take it away from her. His mother had despised 
her. He, the Psychology major, always thought it was
because his mother was jealous. He'd loved Aunt Jean
dearly. She'd always been a little like him. As he
looked at Bess, he thought he saw that same spark,
and that innate friendliness and curiosity. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Mulder smiled wanly. "I didn't 
intend to stare." He sighed and looked at the table
again. 

"Did you need more coffee, son?" Bess deflated and 
softened. He was just having a bad day, she thought. 

Mulder nodded and Bess scurried off to the kitchen
to grab him some of the fresher coffee from the back.
She didn't know why, but it seemed like a nice 
gesture. When she returned, she placed the coffee
mug in front of him, but hesitantly slid into the 
bench opposite him. He looked up at her questioningly,
and for a second she didn't know why she'd done it. 

"Everything OK?" Her voice was soft, and Mulder 
caught her eyeing his service weapon. He chuckled 
cynically and nodded. 

"Well, everything's ok as it can be. I'm Mulder." He
attempted a smile and offered his hand from across
the table. 

"Bess." She smiled at him and cleared her throat. 
I'm sorry to intrude, Mr. Mulder; You just seemed 
terribly down. I just can't stand for that sort of 
thing in my place." 

Mulder chuckled again. "You should be a bartender, 
Bess." 

It was Bess's turn to laugh. "I see you're a cop, 
maybe FBI? Seems like a lot of adventure to me."

"Oh, I'm sure you've seen your fair share of FBI 
agents. I'm mostly just a pencil-pusher." He was 
looking past her wistfully. 

Bess nodded, not sure what to say. She still 
wasn't entirely certain she should have bothered
the poor man. The conversation had turned awkward.

"I lost my best friend, Bess. That's why I'm here, 
choking down food like a pig. I don't want to drink-
my father was an alcoholic. I save drinking for 
maybe a couple times a year. But, I can eat everything
I can and pretend like I have something to occupy 
my time." He was speaking absently. 

Bess searched for words, not sure what to say to 
the obviously grief-stricken FBI agent. "I'm so sorry
to hear, Mr. Mulder. Did he pass away?" 

"She." Mulder answered quickly, and Bess saw the 
story getting interesting, just as she'd thought. 
"No, she didn't pass away. She's been missing for  
several weeks, presumed dead."

"How did you meet?" Bess decided to take the casual
route. She wasn't sure how much Mr. Mulder wanted to
talk about his friend. 

"We worked together. She was my partner. We hadn't 
been working together for several months, though, 
when she was... taken. She was kidnapped." Mulder 
looked at Bess with such honesty, it made her heart
wrench. "And now I'm not sure what to do with myself.
She was the only person in the entire world whom I 
could speak with without feeling like I had to filter
myself. She was the only one of my colleagues who 
didn't treat me like a joke." 

Bess nodded. "I understand. You know, I lost my 
husband, Lloyd, sometime back. We'd been married for
twenty years, and then one day he up and died of a 
heart attack mowing the lawn. He was home alone. I 
was working. No one found him in time to help. He 
was only 50 years old, Mr. Mulder." 

Mulder sobered, his brow knit. Sometimes it was 
helpful when people reminded him that terrible 
things happened to good people every day. It would 
never fix what happened to Scully, though. As far as
he was concerned, she was the best person. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." He was quiet. 

"I never got to say goodbye to him. But at least I
had the benefit of knowing what happened. Do you 
believe she's still alive, Mr. Mulder?" Bess cocked
her head at him questioningly. 

Mulder thought for a long second. He liked to 
believe that he and Scully were linked on some cosmic
level. Part of him was sure that he'd feel it in his
gut if she were really gone. Perhaps that he'd feel
like a light was suddenly turned off somewhere. His 
rational half told him that the chances of her being
alive this long after a kidnapping were nearly zero. 
"Yes, Bess... My gut says she's still alive. Somewhere."

"Well, then... I suppose you better get up and keep 
looking." Bess smiled at him and excused herself from
the booth. "Its time for my smoke break, Mr. Mulder. 
I'll be just out front if you need anything. Everything's
on the house today." 

Bess smiled at him as she made her way out the front 
door. A few moments into her smoke break, Mr. Mulder 
walked out the front entrance. He stood beside her for
a moment, but didn't say anything. He watched the sun 
setting over the horizon with her. Wordlessly, he 
waved his thanks to her and began walking to his car. 
Bess thought there was more life in his stride. 

She would see Mr. Mulder two or three times a week for
six weeks. Then, he suddenly stopped visiting. Bess 
always wondered what happened to him, remembering him
with fondness whenever a new suit wandered into the 
diner for his first taste of Bess's Sweet Potato Pie.

____________________________________________________

IV. 


"Hey!" Mulder quietly whispered from the hospital 
doorway, not wanting to disturb her if she was sleeping.
He was relieved to see her turn her head and smile at 
him, waving him in. He thought he'd never seen anything
so pretty. After weeks and weeks without her, she'd 
never look the same to him again. He was happy to see 
that her peaches and cream complexion was making its 
way back, and her smile was less tired. 

"What are you doing here, Mulder? Its way past visiting
hours." Scully was still smiling, clearly relieved to
see him. Mulder knew that, though weak, she'd been 
feeling relatively well. She had to be going crazy. 

"C'mon, Scully... I only had to club a couple nurses.
I did it all for you." He teased her. He missed teasing
her. Actually, he couldn't believe how much he'd missed
talking to her, period. 

Scully openly laughed, and he relished the sound. He
quickly made his way to the bedside chair, slipping 
into the uncomfortable plastic and pulling it forward
so he could hold her hand. "Actually," He said, "I 
wanted to bring you your real present." 

"My REAL present? But I was enjoying "Superstars and
the Super Bowl" SO much. How could you possibly top it?"
Her look was mischievious. He liked it. 

Pulling a stack of folded papers from his back pocket,
he hesitated before passing them to her. 

Scully took them, then looked at him with her patented
skeptics' gaze before opening the papers and beginning
to read. It only look a couple seconds before she turned
to him with surprise across her features. "Mulder..."
She stuttered slightly. It was something she did when 
she couldn't find words. It was rare that Agent Scully
couldn't find words. "Is this what I think it is?" 

Mulder nodded. "Skinner's signed order to have you 
transferred back to the X-files. That is, if you still
want to come back. If you even want to come back to the
Bureau..." He knew he was rambling, but couldn't stop
himself. "I know no one's asked you if you're ready
or even want to come back after everything-"

"Stop." Her voice was firm. "Mulder, just stop. I'm not
going anywhere. Do you have any idea how happy this 
makes me? I don't know what's happened in the time that
I've been gone..." She paused. "But, my life before I
was taken was boring and lonely. I couldn't have asked
for a better returning gift." Her smile was broad. 

Mulder grinned wider than he had in a long time. He'd 
been ready for her to tell him she was done; that she
was going to be a doctor, get out of the Bureau and 
away from the inherent dangers of being an agent. He'd
never been so relieved.  

"But, Mulder..." He swore his throat was closing. He 
didn't like the word 'but'. It didn't usually work in
his favor. "I just want you to realize that it'll be a
little bit before I'm in the kind of condition I was 
before I... left." Neither agent knew just how to phrase
her disappearance. So far, their descriptors were quite
vague. "I don't want you to feel like I'm holding you 
back. What if something were to happen, in the field?"

"That's the last thing I want you to worry about right 
now. We'll work it out." His words were concilliatory.

Scully sighed. "I guess I'm just really not looking 
forward to the recovery. Mentally, I feel like nothing
ever happened. Physically, I don't know. I just feel 
tired and weak. Like I didn't move for the entire time
I was gone. And that scares the living daylights out 
of me, because I don't remember a single moment of it.
I've got to be honest with myself. I haven't exactly
seen myself in a full mirror, but it feels like I've 
gained about fifty pounds. I'm just thinking about
how much work it took me to get through the academy, 
and now I'm going to have to re-certify for duty 
fifty pounds heavier and with half the muscle mass.
I don't like my odds, Mulder." 

Mulder chucked, "First of all, recertification isn't
nearly as scrupulous as the academy. Second of all, 
you've proven to me in every possible way that you 
can accomplish anything you put your mind to. How is
this any different? You'll be fine." He shrugged.

Scully smiled at his encouraging words, reluctantly 
nodding her agreement. 

"Besides, you could have gained 200 pounds, and I'd
still be happy to see you, and you'd still be the best
partner I've ever had." For the first time in forever, 
he couldn't stop smiling. 


__________________________________________________________

End Part 1 of 3


The Moment: Season 2 (2/3)
by Tessa Moore
Disclaimer: They're not mine!

Summary: The development of Mulder and Scully's
relationship, as seen OFF camera.



V. 


It was with thinly veiled curiosity that Mulder
walked into the private gym just a couple blocks
from Scully's apartment. It was a Saturday, and 
the gym was bustling with activity, myriad bodies
in decent shape each undulating and writhing in 
their separate little compartments: treadmills,
bikes, lifting units. Scully had called him early
that morning and asked him to meet her there, and
to be ready for a work-out.  

As he searched for her amid the other gym-goers,
he was thankful that he'd chosen to wear his new
running shorts and mosture-wicking biking shirt. 
His usual fair of torn shorts and shirt probably
would have gotten him kicked out. There was no 
mistaking it - it was an upscale gym. And Mulder
would have teased Scully mercilessly about her 
yuppie gym if she didn't look so cute when he 
finally found her. 

She was tucked away in the far corner of the gym,
quietly stretching and readying herself on the 
royal blue, spotless and practically shining mats.
She was dressed in a loose-fitting, but not baggy
sporting t-shing, and a pair of cropped leggings.
Her shoes were pristine white, and knowing Scully
he couldn't tell whether they were brand new or 
just another victim of her obsessive compulsive 
tendencies. Her hair was tied back in a tight 
pony-tail, and her face was completely washed of
all make-up. He found it ironic that Scully was 
self-conscious enough to keep up with the trappings
of the yuppie gym, but was the only female in the
entire joint completely devoid of make-up. He also
thought she might be the only woman in the place 
who didn't need make-up. 

Mulder was enormously curious as to why she'd asked
him to join her. To his surprise, she'd already 
re-qualified herself this last week, and was 
cleared for duty. She'd come out of her ordeal all
guns blazing. It didn't surprise him, but it did 
leave him a little concerned, especially in light 
of their last conversation in the hospital. Scully 
was smart enough to pass any psych evaluation, and 
she was also smart enough to know that she could 
conquer any physical test with sheer obstinance. But 
where did it leave her, amid the flurry of activity? 
When was she supposed to *actually* recover, or was
she just being made to forget it?

"Mulder!" Scully caught him staring, and she waved
him over with a crooked eyebrow and sly smile. 

He didn't say anything as he came over, waiting for 
her to explain their impromptu meeting. 

"I see that look, Mulder." Her smile was cheshire
all the way. 

"What gives, Scully? You invite a guy out to a 
yuppie gym and don't even warn him?" He couldn't
help himself. "I have a reputation to keep, you
know." 

"It is NOT a yuppie gym! Its like any other gym
in the city!" She was incredulous. 

"Haven't you noticed the way everyone is dressed,
Scully? This is where the people of Georgetown 
all gather together to announce, I have money!"
He was waving his arms dramatically. 

The man warming up behind Scully, one of the worst
offenders as he jogged in place in his brand-new
track suit, glared at Mulder in disdain. Mulder 
treated the man to a blank stare. 

Scully shook her head. "Regardless of what you 
think, Mulder, I invited you here for a reason. I
have a lot of work to do in order to get myself 
back to fighting shape. I was able to re-qualify,
but barely. I think I made it through by threat of
impending humiliation. You've got incredible 
endurance. If you'll just work out with me, I'll be
forced to keep up."

"I'm not a drill seargeant, Scully..." He was quiet
and hesistant. 

"I don't need you to be. I know myself, Mulder - I
can't bare the thought of being less than proficient.
I'll make myself keep up with you." She looked down
at the mat below her feet, and Mulder realized she'd
just said something telling about herself. When she 
looked back up at him, her eyes were crystal clear 
and somewhat pleading. "I was thinking that we could
maybe come up with a schedule. I know you run every 
morning... and I thought I could come with you every
now and then." 

"I'm not running in this place, Scully." He was only
half kidding. 

"Okay..." She nodded. "If you agree to let me run 
with you three times a week, I will give up my 
membership to the yuppie gym, and buy you breakfast 
after each run." 

"You're on, Agent Scully!" His grin was wide, toothy
and boyish. "Now, let's get out of here before that
guy comes back and exacts his revenge on me..."

______________________________________________________

VI. 

"Well, Scully, I don't know about you, but I am 
thrilled to be back for our yearly quarantine. I don't
know what I'd do without it." Mulder's voice was light,
if not somewhat cynical. "Just think... We could be in 
Mexico, laying back at some beach. Or we could have 
gone on a cruise. But a white room in the middle of 
frickin' nowhere just takes the cake." 

Scully smiled back at him, equally rueful of their 
month long sentence to isolation. "Don't complain too
much, Mulder; at least this one has a couple windows
and a TV." 

Mulder just nodded, looking down to his slippered feet, 
willing them to help him find something to say to her. 
He hadn't said as much to her, but their trip to the 
volcano and their exposure to the strange parasite there
had rattled him somewhat - maybe even moreso than some
glittering green bugs in the middle of a Washington 
forest what seemed like ages ago. 

Truth was, Scully had already changed. He saw the fighter
in her emerge on a day to day basis. She'd always been 
a fighter, but always demured and cowed to the interests
of others. It seemed she argued with him with increased
gusto. She was willing to go the extra round with him. 
Most importantly, he could feel her will to live radiating
from her. But that didn't stop the near heart-attack 
when he thought she'd fallen victim to the parasite.

A light chuckle from across the room forced Mulder's 
attention to Scully, where she was curled up against the
headboard of her bed, head leaned back against the wall. 
He momentarily thanked the powers that be that they'd 
somehow been able to finagle another double room out of
the quarantine facility. It wasn't standard procedure,
but so far they were two for two on that account. "Well,
Mulder... So much for that work-out routine of ours, huh?"

Mulder's laugh was light and airy. They'd run together a
couple times since her initial proposition of him in 
the Georgetown yuppie gym. Mulder would never utter the
words out loud, but slowing his pace was a small price
to pay for the pleasure of her company. He had a feeling
she knew he was going easy on her, but also had a 
feeling that she was ever so slightly thankful for it. 

"What's up with this sudden obsession with losing the 
weight, Agent Scully?" He was teasing, but also testing
her. "You're not going all health nut on me, are you?"

"Mulder, your idea of "Health Nut" is someone who owns
a head of lettuce that isn't four months rotten." She
scoffed. 

"I knew it... You're going to start snacking on 
imported yogurt and granola, aren't you? Scully, can't
you see that you're turning into one of them?" He feigned
urgency. 

"Shut up, Mulder..." She smiled, but turned her eyes to
her knees, now crossed indian-style while she leaned over
them. Mulder marveled at the tiny space she inhabited in
her bed, while he sprawled over most of the surface of 
his own. He could sense the conversation turning serious,
but had nothing to offer in the way of levity. 

She cleared her throat. "You want to know the truth?"

"I'm all ears." He smiled gently. "I've told you how big
a fan I am."

"The truth is that I was hoping I could somehow run the 
'crazy' away." Mulder's brows knit in confusion and she
struggled to elaborate. "I guess I don't feel like I'm 
crazy, so much as I feel like I've lost control over my
life."

"I don't think that's abnormal, Scully..." He was quietly
attempting to offer his support.

"I don't know what's abnormal anymore, Mulder. I just came
back from this void of a disappearance - months that I 
can't recall, but which cause this sense of innate dread. I
almost feel like a rape victim..."

Mulder startled at the words. His heart sunk at what she'd 
said to him. 

Scully groped for words, her mouth fishing in the air for a
moment before they finally came to her. "But the real truth
is that I'd almost rather have been raped in some dark alley;
had some thug knock me around a little. At least then, I'd
know what happened. I'd know who to hate."

He had nothing to say, but quietly moved to join her on her
bed. Gently, he picked up her hand and bowed his head, 
signalling to her that he was still listening.  

Her voice floated up to him, stiff and unsure. "After we had
the conversation in the hospital, I felt like I could do 
anything. I decided that if I told myself I was Agent Scully,
I couldn't possibly be Dana. I re-qualified, just barely, in
every aspect of the field report. I felt terrible afterward,
knowing that I'm not in any shape, physically, to be out in
the field. I decided that maybe if I could get control of 
my body, I'd feel a little less rotten about what's going on
in my mind. And what better way to do that, then spend some 
time with Spooky Mulder?" She finally smiled, the magnetism
of her gaze forcing him to look up and into her face. "You've
always been too much for me to keep up with."

"You make me sound like a toddler, Scully!" He played mock
outrage well. "Like I'm going through the "terrible two's" or
something. 

"You know, you should see some of the pictures my Mom has laying
around the house. Through most of my teen years, I was always a
little chunky."

Mulder could hide the surprise on his face.

"When I got to Med School, I lived off of coffee and Microwaved
Ramen noodles; I dropped any extra weight very quickly. But I
always remember Dana, the triple threat, literally: red-headed,
freckled, chubby little poindexter."

"That's a quadruple threat, Scully." That one earned him a slap
on the arm. 

"I was no homecoming queen, Mulder."

"That's ok. I was always much more interested in the girls 
hanging out under the bleachers..."

"Oh, I'm sure you were." She deadpanned.

There was a moment of companionable silence. Mulder noticed 
that the tension had finally slipped from Scully's shoulders. In
turn, he felt the tension sapping from his own body. 

"You know, Scully..." He couldn't help himself, going in for
another tease. "I'm sure we could have them move a treadmill
in here."

"You think I'm going to run my ass on a treadmill and let you
watch, Mulder?" She smiled. "You know, I've seen those videos
that aren't yours..."

_____________________________________________________________

VII. 

"I hope something like this doesn't happen to me when I get
old, Mulder." 

He was surprised to her her voice from across the room. They'd
been conducting their business in silence that morning, each
writing up their respective case reports and filling out all
the appropriate paperwork. He'd thought Scully seemed a little
interospective, but didn't mention it. She was clearly tired,
still not up to her normal stamina level, and their last few
cases had been trying. 

"What do you mean, Scully?" He kept his voice quiet and 
casual. 

"I'm just sitting here writing up the Excelsis Dei Case. What
a horror show that place was, Mulder. In a million years, I
can't imagine sending my mother there." She was staring down
at the file, somewhat absently. 

"I don't know, Scully. I think those peoples' families did 
what they felt they had to. What do you do when your parent
needs constant care that you can't give?" He felt like he 
was arguing her usual side. 

Scully sighed. "As a doctor, I know the procedure. But, I
can't imagine if it happened to me. I always had a picture in
my mind of retiring to some nice, small house and living in 
it until the day I died. These people don't have anything other
than orderlies with an attitude and institutional walls to look
forward to in their advanced age."

"But you'll never get old, Scully." Mulder smiled. "Not to me,
at least."

"You know that's silly, Mulder." She finally smiled. 

"Oh, I don't know about that. Everyone knows that age is mostly
a state of mind. You're only as old as you let yourself be." 

She nodded at him from across the room, digesting his words. 

"Besides, Scully," He was going in for the quip. "I would 
change your diapers anytime..."

______________________________________________________________

End part 2 of 3. Short chapter, here, because part three will 
be quite a bit longer. Thanks for reading! Send Feedback!
tess.moore.xf@gmail.com!

The Moment : Season Two (3/3)
By Tessa Moore

Disclaimer: They're not mine!

Summary: The progression of the Mulder / Scully
relationship OFF camera.


VIII. 



They'd been in the same apartment together for
almost 10 hours, but they hadn't set eyes on 
each other once. In fact, Mulder was fairly 
certain she hadn't met his gaze since he'd 
forced her look at him night before last. In 
comfortable silence, but complete numbness, 
they'd made their way home. She hadn't asked 
him to stay, but he couldn't bring himself to
leave. Maybe she'd wanted him to finally take 
off, leaving him on the other side of her 
closed and silent bedroom door. He didn't know,
and he certainly didn't want to find out. 

For now, he sat stiffly on Scully's obnoxiously
tasteful couch, enjoying her space. Suddenly, 
he wished someone would put their touch on his
apartment. He thought it might be nice to sit
on the couch without having to look for food 
between the cushions first. He sat in total 
silence, the TV off and only the lamp on to sofa
table lighting the room. 

Mulder was disturbed to realize that Pfaster 
had rattled him to the core. His partner could
disappear for three months at a time, and he
would hold utter belief that she was alive. But
those hours she'd been left at the hands of 
Pfaster, he'd been unsure. Mulder thought he'd
had his share of exposure to evil. Every law
enforcement officer was naive enough to think
he'd seen the worst of humanity. He was shocked
to realize that Donnie Pfaster *was* the worst
of humanity: a true wolf in sheeps' clothing;
The madman masquerading as a quiet delivery 
driver, his initially clean-cut and friendly 
face suddenly contorting into the wolfish smile
of a true demon. He did things to other people 
that the sickest mind couldn't fathom. 

The thought of the mental torture delivered to
Scully at Pfaster's hands made him want to kill
the man. A man that evil could live off of his
thoughts in prison - his dreams, his impulses
shifting to those within his grasp; human, base
impulses. Scully, however, would never forget
the terror. Pfaster had gotten lucky when he
chose Scully for a victim. Her glorious hair 
and tailored suit served well to hide "the 
crazy", as she put it. Her recent experiences
weakening her countenance, her discomfort 
during the case was palpable. His normally 
unflappable partner had been practically flapping 
in the wind. Her work was flawless, but she was 
tense and quiet. Mulder shuddered to think of how 
Donnie Pfaster played with her, most likely also 
sensing her weakness. Had she screamed at him? 
Hidden from him? Did she cry? 'Son of a bitch,' 
he thought.

He liked to think that crying was something they
could keep between the two of them. He knew 
Scully to be an intensely guarded woman. When 
she'd been near tears after what Colton did to
her the year before, it had been out of 
frustration and hurt. When he thought back to 
her wrenching sobs after they'd taken Pfaster
into custody, he thought she might have been 
crying away every hurt in her life. Feeling her
body nearly convulsing against his chest, he
realized that he might not witness something 
like this ever again: Scully sharing what she
was feeling, at the moment she was feeling it,
and with no means to hide it. It was at that 
moment that he turned his back to the myriad 
officers in the foyer of the Pfaster house, 
hoping to shield her from their prying eyes. 

             --------------
 
"Mulder?" Her voice floated to him quietly, 
pulling him out of his light snooze. There were
no clocks nearby, but the blue light outside
the window suggested that it was very early 
morning. He'd finally sagged into the couch and
begun dozing, his mind having fully exercised
itself of the horrors of the last 72 hours. He
slowly pulled himself back into a sitting 
position, spotting Scully standing in the hallway
leading to her bedroom. 

"I'm sorry I woke you." Her voice was still 
little more than a whisper. He didn't remind her
that there was no one else to awaken with their
talking. 

He shook his head, dismissing her apology. "Are
you ok, Scully?" 

She sighed and met him at the couch, sinking into
the cushions next to him. For the first time, 
Mulder noticed that she'd brought her bedroom
quilt with her, swaddling herself around the 
shoulders. In the dim, blue light of the room, 
the bruising on her face was lurid - almost black
in spots, still slightly swollen, and with cuts
and scrapes scabbing over. He felt the ire rising
in his chest again. She turned her face to her lap, 
allowing her hair to fall over her cheeks like a
shield. He was suddenly aware that she'd caught 
him looking. 

"It's ok, Mulder." She offered him a wan smile.
"They look a lot worse than they are." He didn't
bother to point out that he'd seen the medical
report. She'd taken a nasty tumble down the stairs
with a man twice her size riding on top of her.
They'd had to place several stitches in her back.
It hadn't occurred to him that she may have slept
by simple necessity: the need to heal, and to 
metabolize some of the pain medication she must
be on. 

"I decided I couldn't sleep anymore." Her manner
of speaking was somewhat detached. Mulder could 
almost hear her inner struggle. Part of her felt
she should be able to handle this, to get over it.
Her other half was falling apart. He knew better 
than to turn 'profiler' on her, and attempted to
shelve his opinions on how she should handle her
situation. 

"Are you having dreams?" He was testing the water. 

Scully shook her head. "Not yet, at least. The 
pain killers have done a pretty good job of knocking 
me out - I don't remember anything of the last day."

Mulder didn't have to tell her that she would likely
dream of Donnie Pfaster for a very long time. He 
could see it in her eyes that she already knew. But
more disturbing than that, he could see her newly
found warriors' spirit flickering in the wind. She'd
been knocked down. He had no doubt that she would 
get back up, but it would take time to get them both
walking at an even pace.  

"How are you feeling?" Again, he kept the topic 
neutral. 

"I feel..." She trailed off, obviously in thought. 
"Like I will never be the same. I don't want for 
this to sound dire, but I feel like I want someone 
to knock me over the head hard enough to make me 
forget the last week." She chuckled in a somewhat 
crazed fashion. 
 
Mulder smiled with her. "Maybe they can take out the 
rest of the year while they're at it."

"You know what's crazy, Mulder?" He didn't answer, 
just looked at her intently. "When I went back to DC, 
I spoke with Karen Kosseff." 

"The staff shrink?" He couldn't help but raise his 
eyebrows in surprise. He wouldn't have guessed it in 
a million  years. Just when he thought he had her 
pegged, she always surprised him. 

Scully nodded. "And, for the first time, I felt like
myself again. I felt like I could conquer all of 
these uncontrollable neurosis that have suddenly come 
over me. I was excited, because we haven't been the old 
'you and me' since I came back, and I thought maybe I 
was going to find 'me' again. That maybe I could get 
some answers about what happened to me."

The silence between them was heavy, while Mulder 
carefully mapped out his next words. Scully's gaze had
fallen to her lap again, as she was unsure of what he 
would say to her. He was working hard to find his move.
Though he knew Scully well enough, her vulnerability 
was still new to him. 

"Maybe you did find yourself, Scully." It was her turn
to look up at him in surprise. "Maybe you found what 
was missing - Your drive. You made it out of that house
alive because you wanted to. You didn't get lucky, you
fought like hell. Maybe, out of all the horror that 
you've experienced this last year, you'll discover who
you were born to be."

Her return smile was weak, but more than he expected 
from her. It made his heart sing. "I have a question,
Mulder."

He tilted his head at her. 

Her question was hesitant. "How is it that you always
know what to say to me?" 

"Well, you know, I am a profiler, Agent Scully." His
voice was light, deflecting a bit.  

"Yes, but I never *feel* like you're profiling or 
manipulating me. I can always feel the honesty of 
your words, and that's more than I can say for most
everyone else around me." 

His eyes, suddenly seeking hers out aggressively, 
were steely and serious. "I would never be less than
honest with you, Scully." 

She broke the gaze first, here eyes moving to her 
lap again. "What if..." He could hear the test in her 
voice. "What if I asked you what you meant when you 
said you "Still have me"?" She was biting her lip 
nervously. 

It took a moment before Mulder finally recalled the
conversation she was alluding to. 

"At the time, I meant that you were one of the only 
things that made my life and my job bearable. With 
everything that's happened since, I could safely say
that I would do anything you asked or needed me to."

He was truly shocked by what she asked next: "Do you 
want there to be an "us", Mulder?" 

He grappled for words, torn between honesty and 
diplomacy. Finally, and as he most often did, he
decided honesty was the best policy. "Yes."

Scully nodded, hoping that her still exterior had
managed to somehow hide the sudden adrenaline rush
occurring within her. "Its not our time, is it?"

Mulder shook his head, "No." He was quick to pull
her against his shoulder in a hug. "But it will
be someday. And until then, I'm always here to help."

"How are you at making eggs?" She smiled, and for a
moment, Mulder had the sense that everything was 
going to be fine. 



____________________________________________________


IX. 

The cold New Hampshire air was heavy around yet 
another roadside dinner. At this point, Scully thought
she might be a connoisseur of various second-rate
dining facilities around the United States. She would
never admit as much to Mulder, but she enjoyed them. 
It was like touring America, one diner at a time. 
While waiting for him to finish settling the check, 
she stood at the front door, absently watching the 
traffic pass in the early morning mist. It was a quiet 
morning, one perfect for staying in bed until 11:00 
and spending the day accomplishing small tasks around 
the house in between eating everything one shouldn't. 
Maybe she'd still have time to stuff her face when she 
got home.

Looking to her right, she noticed a lonely swing set.
It had been well used, rusted in places, and with the
sand heavily rutted beneath the two care-worn swings.
Settling herself into one of the swings, Scully 
slouched. She wasn't thinking much, and avoided 
holding the chains for fear of the cold. 

When Mulder came out of the restaurant behind her, she
could practically see him light up at the sight of 
the swings. He was a terribly driven man in his 
thirties who'd seen far too much violence in his 
lifetime, but it never failed to amaze Scully just how 
big a kid he was, afterall. He plopped down into the 
swing beside her, already swaying a bit, testing the i
ntegrity of the set. 

"Nice find, Scully!" His smile was broad, and for a
moment, she felt her spirits lifting. 

"I used to have a set like this when I was a kid...
I hate to say it, but this one looks like its old 
enough to be the same model." She smiled at him, 
boyishly floundering about. "I'm not sure I'd test its
mettle, Mulder." 

"Don't worry, Scully." He laughed. "I'm far too excited
to get home - I don't intend to be waylaid by landing
myself in the hospital after I crack my head open all 
over a decrepit swing set." 

"I know you, Mulder..." She smiled, and his heart 
fluttered a bit. "You're just telling me what I want to
hear." 

"Never, Scully!" 

She just nodded, somewhat wistful still. Finally, she 
placed her hands on the parrallel chains that flanked
her, feeling the anticipated cold creeping through her
gloves. 

"The games those kids played..." She shook her head. 
"Did you ever do things like that, Mulder?" 

"Well, if you're asking if I ever did something stupid
in an attempt to get laid, I can't say I never did." He
was still smiling. "Once, I bet this girl that I could
solve a Rubik's Cube; Told her if I did, she'd have to 
make out with me." 

Scully's eyebrows raised. "What's the catch?" 

"I didn't tell her I'd checked out an instruction book 
from the library, detailing exactly how to solve the 
cube. I really did like her, though. Needless to say 
I solved the puzzle. We ended up dating until we 
graduated."

Scully shook her head in mock disbelief, and he had the
grace to appear chagrined. "I was more wondering if you
were into the mysticism when you were a kid. You know, 
those guys taking their crushes into the woods to the
'ceremonial alter'... It isn't so far removed from 
playing Bloody Mary or messing around with a Ouija 
board."

Mulder thought for a moment, "Yeah... I mean, what kid
isn't sort of taken in by ghost stories, and witch's
spells, fairytales. I just feel badly that all of 
these kids had to suffer because of Paddock's games. 
Mysticism is part of the joy of youth." 

Scully nodded. "When we were teenagers, Melissa used to 
bug me until I'd play Bloody Mary with her. There's 
something to be said for what fear can do to a volatile
mind. Sitting there, in the dark, for just a second I
could see something frightening staring back at me from
the mirror. I was terrified, but tried everything I 
could to convince myself that I was hallucinating."
Her brows knit, as though in deep concern. "Melissa used 
to be so angry at me for rationalizing the experience. 
I wished I could let myself tell her that I was 
horrified that I couldn't control what I saw when I 
looked in the mirror."  


______________________________________________________


X. 


The bar was dimly-lit and somewhat smoky, and Scully
thought most of the seats were in desperate need of 
new upholstery and padding. But, Mulder had asked her
to meet him there on a couple occasions, and she 
assumed he liked the place. It was low-key enough. The
barkeep was friendly and the patrons mostly quiet. A
man could go there to think... or drown his sorrows 
down in solitude. 

She saw him walk in through the front door, easily 
visible from where she was sitting at the bar. The
dinner-time sun shone in behind him, backlighting him
until only his wiry figure was visible, silhouetted in
the doorway. As she watched him spot her and stride 
easily to the bar, she felt nerves stirring in her 
stomach. This was a first: Scully had invited him out
to the bar; and for no work-related reason. She 
shuddered at what he might think of her. Dana Scully 
did NOT get desperate. 

He quietly seated himself next to her, waving the
bartender over. He ordered a pint of Guiness, to which
Scully raised her eyebrows at him. The bartender walked
away quietly, readying various drinks. 

"How can you stand that stuff, Mulder? I think I puked
up a pint in college, and that was it for me." 

"Oxford, remember?" He was quiet, and Scully nodded in
recognition. "Besides, its better than your girly drink."
he pointed to her rum and coke. "What's up, Scully?"

She was nervously chewing her lip, unsure of how to say
what she wanted to. "I guess I just wanted to apologize
for what happened to your sister."

Mulder released a heavy sigh. "You have nothing to be
sorry for... She wasn't my sister. Plain and simple."
He was being evasive, his voice cagey, and his body 
language telling her that he was poised to run. She 
pretended not to notice when he dropped one foot to 
the floor beside the barstool. 

Scully shook her head. "It doesn't matter whether she
was or not. You believed she was at the time of the 
exchange. I know how badly it hurt. I just wish I 
could somehow project to your parents that I feel 
guilty about it all." 

His eyes were suddenly irate. "Well, I could drive you
out to my Mother's house. I'll let you tell her the
whole story. Maybe it'll get her out of her haze
long enough to listen. Besides, its my Dad who looked
like he wanted to bash my head in when I told him the
news." He let out a cynical chuff. "Let's see... Mom
will say, 'You've always gone out of your way for a
pretty face' in her passive-aggressive way. Dad's a 
little trickier. In fact, he's already said enough to
me; he'd probably just settle for making you feel like
shit. It'd be something short, but stinging... Like, 
'You must be very special'."

Scully let his tirade sink in. He'd never mentioned 
much about his family life. She'd always figured it was
somewhat poor, with Samantha's disappearance. Now, it 
was sounding downright miserable. 

Mulder took a long swig of his Guinness, sighed, and 
continued. "You don't have anything to apologize for 
because I made the right decision." He was staring at
his half-empty glass intently. "If I'd let you die,
only to find out that my sister was a clone... I don't
know what I would have done. I would have had to 
explain it to my parents AND your mother."

At that moment, the barkeep returned, raising his 
eyebrows to ask if they needed fresh drinks. Both 
agents waved him off. 

Scully didn't look up from her drink. "My mother knows
that you would do anything for me." 

Mulder tilted his head, silently asking her to 
continue. 

"She told me about the time you spent together during
my disappearance. She really loved you, you know 
that? I'm sorry about the difficulties you may have
in your family. God knows I've got enough Daddy 
issues to last a couple lifetimes. But my mom would
adopt you in a second." She smiled the slightly 
crooked grin of the almost-buzzed. 

"I could never be your brother, Scully." He leered
and raised his eyebrows expectantly. As usual, she
gave as good as she got. 

"I didn't say I wanted you to be." With that, she
lowered herself from the barstool and made her way
toward the exit. Looking over her shoulder, she 
beckoned him to follow her out. 


___________________________________________________


XI.


All at once, he saw a new Scully emerging from the 
ashes, rising up as a whole and new woman. She was a 
woman he wasn't sure he knew or understood. If there 
was one thing he knew with certainty, it was that he
shared blame for what she'd become. 

"I'm fine, Mulder." She said it firmly while she got
into her car and left him standing in the Bureau parking
garage alone. It was late evening, and the garage was
deserted. Sitting in the dim light, he wondered what 
sort of monster he'd created. 

Thinking back to the woman who walked into his office
almost two years prior, the changes were pronounced,
and somewhat disturbing. He'd always thought of her
as an innocent. He hadn't realized that he'd been 
watching her innocence dissapear one tiny piece at a
time. 

She'd never been one to share emotions, but she hand't 
been compartmentalizing it, either. In horror, he'd 
watched while she was nearly decapitated while an entire 
town stood by ready to eat her. But she was 'fine', and 
for once, Mulder couldn't find it within himself to 
argue with her.   


________________________________________________________


End Season II

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