TITLE: Don't Look Up AUTHOR: ArtemisX5 EMAIL ADDRESS: artemisx5@hotmail.com CATEGORY: VRA RATING: R SUMMARY: It was done. I had no more secrets. TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING. 'Milagro' KEYWORDS: Scully POV, MSR, angst, Milagro DISCLAIMER: With the money I've made off this venture I could put a down payment on a brand new grain of sand. Hoo boy. AUTHOR'S NOTES: I saw Milagro the other day, for the first time since I began my sordid career as a fanfic writer, and I simply could not let it rest. The muse followed me around all day, singing songs and tickling me until I finally devoted myself to writing. Thank God for 6-hour orientation videos at my job. Thank you Rafferty and sallie, as ever, for beta that paints up my work like 'The Mona Lisa' when it always begins as a page torn from a coloring book. And to frogdoggie, whose education in the manly art of shirt removal helped shape a scene within. ------------------------------------- *Don't look up. Don't look at him,* my mind chanted redundantly. I could not have looked up even if I wanted to. My head bowed and my eyes fixed on the floor, I was paralyzed. Padgett had stripped me of my last secret. I was already raw and aching from his earlier explorations of my character, and now he had rendered me nude, unprotected. The sound of my heart was deafening and my breath felt like poison gas. I vaguely wished for it to kill me. *Agent Scully is already in love.* How could he know? How did he see it in me? I had buried it so deep inside that on many days I could even pretend it wasn't so. I could feel Mulder next to me, enflamed by his desire to demand the truth from me. He would overcome it though, like he always does. Just as he was overcoming his instinct to chase Padgett down the hall and beat him senseless for offending my dignity, and for winning this round against us. A flush crept up my neck to meet the heat on my face caused by Mulder's stare. *Don't look him in the eyes.* I slowly raised my gaze from the floor, fixing it now on the knot in his tie. "Let's go," he said in a thick voice. "I want to see where he goes." I could only nod, and let him lead the way to the parking lot. I would not walk beside him, feeling his heat, breathing his air. In the car, I imagined my heart bleeding with secrets, soaking my white blouse and staining darkly the suit I should never have splurged on. Mulder drove on, oblivious to my plight. I looked at him, begging him silently to notice the agony Padgett had caused me. *I'm bleeding to death, Mulder. He broke through to my heart and it's running all over me.* He cleared his throat. "I want to put him under surveillance." I nodded, "Fine." Looking down at my hands again, I saw that my blouse was still pristine white. "He's not a very good writer," Mulder observed after a while. "You don't think so?" I asked, surprised that he had noticed style, given the content. "He might as well start the novel, 'It was a dark and stormy night,'" he suggested. I couldn't help smiling. "It's not that bad." "He ought to put a 'wide load' sign on it to warn readers about the run-on sentences." I met his eyes for the first time and found them concerned, flickering with an inner struggle I could not identify. Padgett's cab stopped in front of Hegel Place, and Mulder used his key to let us into the parking garage. He was making no effort to remain stealth. "I think you might fail Surveillance if you had to take it today, Mulder." "Don't you think he's already 'imagined' that we'd follow him?" Mulder reasoned. His sarcastic tone was almost unbearable. "You're certainly confirming his every suspicion of you," I said in a low voice. He looked at me, a blank expression offering me no insight into what was on his mind. We exited the car and stood as far apart in the elevator as dignity would allow. Mulder wasn't angry, exactly. I have seen him angry, and he was too uncertain to be that. His mood was throbbing, but unidentified. Riled, though, that much I was sure of. In his apartment, Mulder's shoulders sagged. He seemed to be willfully calming himself, centering, and deciding on his next course of action. I didn't want to touch anything or even move, for fear that I would shatter with one more step. Padgett's door closed suddenly down the hall. I reasoned that he must have taken the stairs and arrived after us. I felt too close to him in my place by the door, so I finally took cautious steps into the room. Mulder disappeared down the hall, so I sank onto the couch, spine too straight and knees drawn together like a charm school graduate. I avoided his eyes when he returned, laden with spying equipment. Some of it looked FBI-familiar, the rest bore the unmistakable signature of the Lone Gunmen. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked when all the surveillance equipment was scattered across the coffee table. I didn't, but I had made the mistake of making eye contact with him and I desperately wanted him to leave the room, so I nodded. "What do you want?" he eyes were hooded and very dark green. "Anything, whatever you're having." I blinked heavily, breaking our contact. He went into the kitchen and I found myself struggling for breath. *Agent Scully is already in love.* Padgett's observation was still killing me slowly. I looked at the strangely blue sky outside Mulder's window as though the air out there might refresh my lungs if I wished it so. Mulder returned with two glasses of ice water. "Sorry, nothing else," he mumbled. "S'fine," I acknowledged, busying myself with a long drink. It was only when the equipment was installed and we were back into our roles as partners that I finally remembered how to breathe. For an hour, we sat side by side, staring at Padgett while he stared at nothing. As always, we started breathing in sync. Our shared rhythm soothed me and started the healing process on the wound in my heart. Padgett had not driven Mulder so far from me that he could not find his way back to the mutual home that is our partnership. "Are you all right, Scully?" he asked after a long silence. "Why?" My heart leapt into a nervous tachycardia. Without turning his head, he smirked. "We're on surveillance and you haven't fallen asleep yet." I had never been so relieved to be victim to his teasing. It was blessedly normal. "You know I can't sleep with shoes on," I reminded him, lifting one foot into view. Mulder sighed and nodded toward the laptop. "Go ahead and take them off; I think he's entered a vegetative state." I refused to smile at that, because that was my part of our game. I did unzip my boots and slump back against the couch. Mulder swept my boots under the table with his foot and our stockinged feet engaged briefly in a game of footsie. I expected his standard, 'Scully, are you flirting with me?', but he stayed silent. Later, he slumped back beside me, arms and legs flopping like a rag doll. His left pinky grazed my thigh and it took great concentration not to twitch away. *See Mulder? I don't mind being close with you. I'll let you touch me if you want to.* He appeared intently focused on the screen, but his hand turned over and he took the seam of my slacks between his forefinger and thumb. I stared at his fingers while he worried the fabric. *Do you know what you're doing?* I wanted to ask him, but my mouth would not open. He turned his head to look at me, and my eyes pricked with unexplained tears. Those unending hazel eyes seemed particularly pained. His lips parted, and he blinked before closing them. "What?" I asked. He shook his head and sat forward, elbows on knees. I wanted to press myself to his back, wrap my arms around him and beg him to see me as clearly as Padgett had. "Where'd he go?" Mulder leapt up and scaled the chair below the camera. His erratic sweep of the bare apartment revealed nothing, so I shook my head at his questioning stare. In his usual style, he ran into the hall. I was left behind to struggle into my boots. When I opened the door, Dr. Naciemento pushed me backwards. All I remember after that point is the agonizing pain. I wanted to die just to end the hot crushing feeling in my chest. My ears were filled with screaming and the pounding of my pulse. I found a primal place in my mind that forced me to keep screaming, keep fighting, but it was not as strong as the man trying to rip out my heart. Just as suddenly as the agony began it ceased. Dr. Naciemento disappeared and I collapsed, giving in to my body's shrieking desire to faint. When I woke, coughing and shaking, I found Mulder above me. I clutched at him, begging to be held. He obliged, holding me tight to his chest. I was shocked to hear my own sobbing. Desperate, wracking noises that reminded me of Charlie and his broken femur in fifth grade. Mulder tucked me under his chin, absorbing my pain and rocking me. I cried until my throat ached and the effort of more sobbing was greater than my energy reserves. Mulder trailed his fingertips from the crown of my head to my lower back, just cresting the outer ring of the orubouris that lived there. "You're okay now. You're safe, Scully. Shhhhhh..." he murmured to me. I struggled to sit up and he helped me, groaning as his body protested the hunched position he had cradled me in. We were hip-to-hip and facing each other when I finally released him from my death grip. My blood had soaked both of our clothes. His forehead wrinkled with sorrow, he reached blindly for the buttons on my blouse. Releasing the first two, he spread the lapels, smoothing his fingertips over my unbroken skin. The intimacy of the act brought out goosebumps on my flesh. His eyes dropped briefly to the blood-soaked lace that made up my bra, but he quickly looked up into my eyes. "You're okay," he whispered, bringing fingertips to my jaw, then cupping my cheeks. I could only nod. "Oh God," he sighed, rubbing his thumbs over my tears. "I thought it was too late," he swallowed heavily. "I thought--" "No," I interrupted. I didn't want to hear what he thought. My muscles came back to life, electrified. I began to shake uncontrollably--even my teeth chattered. "Scully." He crouched and wrapped his arms around me, pulling us both to our feet. I shivered into his arms, gripping handfuls of his shirt for support. "Come on, we've got to get you warm." He gathered me under one arm and led me to the couch. "Your c-c-c-c-c-c-couch," I gasped. "B-b-b-b-blood." "I don't care," he said, pushing me onto the cushions. He tugged the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped me in it. I tried to protest, but he shook his head, rubbing my arms. Slowly the shock abated, though I continued to shiver. "You all right?" he asked when my teeth stopped their incessant tattoo. I nodded. "You're all bloody." I snaked one hand out to scrape my nails across his T-shirt. "S'okay," he said. "That'll set. You should rinse it," I insisted. He laughed. "Scully, stop. Don't worry about it." I nodded, pulling my hand back into the warmth of the blanket. "What happened?" I asked. "Never mind, it's over." He used the tone that meant he would offer no more information on the subject. "I'm cold." I surprised myself, admitting that. I spend much of my time with Mulder over-air- conditioned and denying it. "Come with me." He led me through his bedroom to the bathroom and sat me on the edge of the bathtub. He ran the tap water hot in the sink and produced a washcloth from a basket of clean laundry in the bedroom. He held it out to me but I could not hone in on it with my shaking hand. We hesitated together, stilled by the impending possibilities. I swallowed and dropped my head slightly in assent. He squatted before me when I shrugged the blanket off, and blotted at my blood-streaked skin. I hissed at the heat and he drew back, but I mumbled an unintelligible sound of encouragement, and he returned to his gentle cleansing. My blouse was still undone to nearly my navel, but he seemed unaffected. I watched him work, noticing that my shirt resembled the worst of my imaginings in the car. Briefly, I wondered if I had willed the vision to come true. Mulder rinsed the washcloth and returned to me slowly. He rested the cloth on the tub's edge and unbuttoned my blouse all the way. The entirety of my expensive, lacy bra was revealed and it looked like a leftover from a Texas Chainsaw Massacre flick. Before he could take up the damp washcloth again, I reached for his neck and grabbed the collar of his shirt from behind. He hunched his shoulders, allowing me to strip his soiled shirt off. Our clothes lay together in a heap near my feet. I surveyed his torso, noticing a few streaks of pink. He dropped onto his knees, bringing us closer and I took the washcloth from him. I wiped the stains of my blood from his chest, sending rivulets of pink water into the waistband of his jeans. His eyes slipped shut, his expression somewhere between ecstasy and pain. He stilled my hands and took the washcloth again, returning to my body. In a strange act of modesty, he slipped one finger under the edge of my bra and tugged the fabric away from my skin, then swiped the washcloth blindly across my breast. My nipple hardened as the water cooled, peaking the lace when he let it fall against me. He repeated the action with my other breast, once again leaving an erect nipple behind. He stretched back, turning the water off and dropping the washcloth in the sink. Returning with a towel, he scrubbed me before drying his own body. Sharing a bath was oddly intimate and I felt I should touch him. I stroked the stubble on his jaw and he looked at me, startled. "Are you still cold?" he asked. "Yes," I admitted. His eyebrows gathered toward his nose. "We have to get you warm." It made me sad to think how much experience we had with shock. He drew me into the bedroom and pulled back the covers. Kneeling on the floor, he unzipped my boots and guided me out of them. Then he undid my pants and slid them down my legs. I shivered violently while he eased off my trouser socks. "Get in," he instructed, nodding to the bed. I crawled in and drew up the blankets, still shaking like a leaf. Mulder started to take off his own shoes, pausing only momentarily when I shucked my bra and dropped it on the floor. He stared at it while he stepped out of his Levi's and had to pause for a deep breath before easing under the blankets with me. He fumbled briefly, trying to avoid touching my breasts as he wound his arms around me from behind. He was so warm that, for a moment, I felt colder. I shivered against him, causing him to squeeze tighter. "Your hair," he muttered, tucking his nose low on my neck to avoid the itching. "Sorry." I stretched my legs back, curling my toes against his shins. He gasped. The arm he had around my waist traveled lower, trapping my thighs against his. "Are you warming up?" he asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. "It rained sleeping bags, Mulder," I replied vaguely, pleased to be enigmatic despite our Biblical position. He laughed, surprised. "I don't think this is the 'naked pretzel' Padgett had in mind." His voice carried an unmistakable tone of triumph. "No, I don't think he ever imagined this." "So, he was wrong." I felt the first twinge of unease in my stomach. He had taken on the tone that usually heralds a lengthy defense of Mulder-logic. "Of course he was," I tried, hoping to close the subject. "Was he wrong about everything?" "Mulder." I wanted to twist away and escape, but I refused to be bared to him physically. "Scully, I just want to know." "Know what?" "Was he right?" "About...?" There was a long silence during which Mulder's palms grew sweaty against my skin. "Were you attracted to him?" I sighed. "Maybe to the *idea* of him." "What does that mean?" "He--he was...fascinated by me. It was...flattering. No one has noticed me in a while." "I have," he protested. "Not like that." I was glad to have my back to him to hide the painful blush on my cheeks. "He said you wanted me to notice you, Scully." "Yeah?" I didn't know what he expected me to say. "Don't you think I do?" "He said a lot of things, Mulder. You just said he wasn't right about anything." "He wasn't right about anything?" "Well, he got my name right. Don't argue semantics with me." My tone was sharper than I intended and Mulder loosened his hold on me. I listened to him breathe, eyes closed and wishing I had never gotten in the damn elevator with Padgett. His breath was irregular and he took a few gasps that made me think he was going to say something. "Scully?" I knew what came next. "Yes?" My voice had a low quality I did not recognize. "Was he right about you being in love?" I chewed on my lower lip, debating my options. "Leave Padgett out of it," I finally sighed. A shaking breath passed over my ear when he repositioned his mouth to rest just behind it. "Scully, are you in love?" I wanted to cry. More than anything, I wanted to cry. Did he really expect honesty after years of denial? I drew my knees up to my chest, trying to protect myself. *Mulder, don't make me do this. I can't answer.* Of the many ways I had considered telling Mulder that I had slowly, but unmistakably fallen irrevocably in love with him, shocky, naked and turned away from him had never made the list. "Yes, Mulder." "With me?" he sounded choked. "Yes." It was done. I had no more secrets. I had become empty, transparent. I would have thought no more harm could befall me, but his answering silence was almost unbearable. Finally, I thrust my heel into his shin. "Mulder, say something." He pulled on my hip, urging me to roll onto my back and look at him. Miserable, I rolled, but refused to meet his eyes. I felt his lips brush across my ear. "Scully, I love you, too," he whispered. Something tight in my gut released and I sagged into the sheets. My eyes watered, but I forced myself not to cry. He stroked my cheek, quietly soothing me. "I never pictured it like this," he observed. "Neither did I." We didn't need to share more words than that. I understood him perfectly, like always. Arms around me again, Mulder pulled me tightly to his warm body and claimed my temple, my jaw, my ear with kisses. "I notice you," he whispered. "I notice everything about you." My goosebumps returned, unbidden. "Still cold?" he asked. "No." I turned my head slightly and met his deep eyes. He licked his lips and I let my fingertips run over the stubble on his chin once more. He covered my hand with his own, so I pulled it to my lips, kissing the soft spots between his knuckles. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked me, tugging our clasped hands back to kiss my palm. "Yes." I thought so anyway. He nodded, eyes flickering. "Good." He eased away from me and slipped out of our warm cocoon of blankets. "What are you doing?" I demanded, chasing his hip with one hand. "You can stay here tonight." "Mulder. What are you doing?" "I'm gonna sleep on the couch." "What? Why?" He paused in the door, framed by the light of the living room. "I'm going to tell you again tomorrow, when it's my idea, not some stranger's." I blinked, trying to process this rapid turn of events. His face softened into a lovely smile that helped me find my voice again. "Tomorrow?" He nodded. "On my terms." "Mulder..." He propped one hip against the doorframe, eyes heavenward in thought. "Possibly later tonight." "Mulder." "Scully." He stared solemnly at me. "I'm not going to let anyone force me into...anything. I want you to be sure that I chose you, not just that I agreed with you." "You've never agreed with me, Mulder." I watched him smile at that. "And I know that you chose me." He ambled a few steps back into the room. "And I appreciate what you're trying to do, but..." I let him anticipate me and was pleased when he crept closer still. "But, what?" "I chose you a long time ago and I need you tonight. I don't want to be alone." His forehead puckered in concern, and he stretched out to run his palm over my hair. I tugged his arm until he sat on the bed, forced to meet my gaze. I tried to reveal my soul and I must have shown him something he deemed worthwhile because he smiled slowly until he had a look of religious rapture. My eyes welled with relieved tears and he bent to kiss my cheeks. When he straightened, I recognized a familiar impish glimmer in his eyes. "Well, as luck would have it, Scully, it is, in fact, already tomorrow in England." "And that's good enough for you?" "It'll do." He met my eyes with a more serious look in his own. "I love you." "I love you, too." "Now, scoot over." I obliged, laughing at the absurdity of our situation. "You really don't mess around, do you?" "Single white male seeks redhead in shock," he muttered, reclaiming our earlier position. He wrapped his arms around me again, not so careful to avoid my breasts this time. I could feel his pulse throb where his upper arm draped over my shoulder, and I realized that instead of losing one heart today, I had gained another. "Thank you, Mulder." "For what?" "For wanting to be noble and sleep in the living room." "You make me want to be good, Scully," he admitted, nuzzling my cheek. "And thank you for staying with me instead." "You make me want to be bad, too, Scully." He kissed my cheek. I smile a little. "But thank you for saving my life...again...most of all." "I had no choice." I looked at him in surprise. "Without you my heart would stop beating." His words almost stilled my heart for the second time that day. Although it was not his intention, I could almost feel the cold grip of Dr. Naciemento inside my chest again. I twisted my body into Mulder's embrace, hiding my face against the safety of his chest. He kissed the top of my head and murmured, "Scully, if you don't stop squirming, I can't be held responsible for what happens." Once again, he had rescued from the brink of meltdown with a single sentence. Dr. Naciemento faded into the ranks of all the other freaks and creeps I have survived. I have learned to keep them locked in a cage I dare not open. "What would I do without you?" I asked Mulder as an obtuse gesture of gratitude. "It doesn't bear thinking about." I smiled faintly, thinking he was probably right. Best to leave imagining to those who are willing to accept the consequences. -------------------------------------- Fin.