Title: Visitation Author: Jori E-mail: damienma@bellsouth.net Rating: NC-17 Summary: Oh, what else. Everybody else did one so I had to. Post episode for all things. In my version of the story, they do. Category: SR Keywords: MSR post-episode Spoilers: all things Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to CC, FOX and 1013 Archive: Yes. Wherever. Spookys or anybody else, if you need the link it is at: http://www.netroenterprises.com/stories/hpvisitation.html Author's Notes: Well, it certainly isn't the best or most original post-ep story out there and it most certainly doesn't say anything that the 105 before it didn't already say, but a dear friend had a really bad day so I said I'd do something for her. I've been away from writing X-Files fan fiction for a while, so my Mulder is painfully rusty. Forgive us. Thanks, MoJo, for reading and putting up with me coming out of a certain basement for a day or two. You are the only reason I'm posting this fluff. This is also a Font Fic, and the font 'Visitation' can be found at www.fontfreak.com. And now these notes are longer than the story and probably far more entertaining. *************** The noise of the running water and of the tea cups clinking together must have disturbed her sleep. I look over my shoulder to see Scully standing there, somewhere halfway in and out of the kitchen, just watching me with tired eyes. She gently wipes an eye with the back of her hand and blinks, trying to wake up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," I say, watching her lean against the doorframe before I turn around and resume washing the dishes. "That's okay. I didn't mean to fall asleep while you were talking. The last few days have been exhausting and I apologize," she explains. It isn't like she hasn't fallen asleep on my shoulder before. Usually while I'm talking. Sometimes while I'm driving. A lot of times while we are flying. "Don't worry about it. Are you going to head home now?" I ask while rinsing off a cup. She doesn't answer and for just a second I assume she's already gone. "No, I'm not," she answers, her voice soft and sleepy. I can't move my hand from under the water even though it is far too hot to let it remain there. But I just can't move. She hasn't stayed here overnight since . . . my mother. And then neither of us slept, but not in a good way. No, it was a horrible night that I spent angrily pacing the floor while she watched me from the couch. Scully had only been asleep for about ten minutes when Skinner banged on the door. Over the running water, I hear her sigh. So slight and nearly imperceptible but it is enough to shake me back to the present and pull my hand out of the water. "Okay. I'll sleep on the couch and you can have the bed," I say, expecting her to say good night before she turns around and walks off toward my bedroom. I don't hear anything. She's still there. "Or if you prefer the couch, you can have it. I'm not attached to it anymore." "No." The cup in my hand tumbles down and hits the bottom of the sink, but it doesn't shatter. No, nothing is going to shatter tonight but a wall we've put up that is so thick and strong, I nearly thought it was impenetrable. Instead of shattering, I think some things are going to come together. Finally. I turn off the water, pull the drain plug out of the sink and rest my hands on the edge of the counter, not caring that they are dripping everywhere. "No?" I ask, looking over my shoulder again. "No," she says again, but she's nodding her head 'yes.' No, she's not going home. No, we aren't sleeping in separate rooms. No, just this one time, means yes to so many things. She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue before she turns and walks away. My heart is beating so loudly that I can't even hear the water as it swirls away down the drain. I can only watch it go. Can only fathom all the little things that brought us right to this moment and now that we are on the verge of something else, would I have changed any of them? I sigh as I realize that there is only one thing I would have changed. And in doing so, it would have changed everything else and right at this moment, and I don't know whether I could live without Scully. But I have learned to live without Samantha. Have learned to accept all things that led up to what happened to her life. But in the end, can I use those things to find happiness for myself? Yes, for something good coming from all this would be the final justice for what happened to her. ************* She sits on the edge of my bed, looking out the window at the brick wall view. "I wasn't completely honest. There are a few things I wouldn't have minded missing along the way." I say nothing but find myself nodding 'yes' even though she's not looking at me. "There isn't a single one of us who doesn't wish we could have skipped all the despair along the path that brings us to where we are. No matter how good the end of the journey is, it is created and formed because of the anguish and the joy. It . . . just is," I say, moving tentatively towards my own bed. She doesn't move at all, just watches the tender spring leaves blow on the trees outside. "Yet, I can't imagine it being any other way," she says, quickly casting a glance over her shoulder at me. "All the roads led me right to here . . . not right *here* necessarily, but they have all led up to there being no other choice." "There are always choices." I sit on the end of the bed and watch her. She could be gone. Scully said this . . . this old lover of hers would take her back if that was the life she wanted. But instead, she's here with more choices facing her. Every single second presents us with another choice and whether we decide to go one way or another changes the next choice we have. She chose the FBI and in a roundabout way, ended up choosing me. I chose to open the X-Files and in a way, chose no other path for either of us. "Yes, there are always choices and I've made mine," she says, looking down at the floor instead of staring out the window. Moon shadows dance across each leaf, and they all shimmer as they sway though the steady breeze. The wind always blows between the buildings, rattling those trees. Her face is marked by the horizontal shadows created by the blinds and I can't see her eyes right now, for they are trapped in one dark band. "But to think, that could have been my life. A life without . . . you." "It's too late for that now." I reach out for her, my hand brushing across the sleeve of her jacket. She looks up and smiles slightly at my touch but it doesn't last long on her face. "It's been too late longer than today." "Yes, it has," I answer, tugging at the fabric between my fingers. She lets it slide off of her shoulders and folds it neatly at the end of the bed. I crawl across the mattress and slide down around her, so she is tucked in between my legs and wrapped in my arms. With a soft sigh, she leans back against my chest and all of a sudden it doesn't matter how in the hell we got here. It doesn't even matter what happens next. Just admitting this is where we belong is a tremendous step. Instead of just letting it end there, I feel her hands come up off her lap and rest on top of mine, so warm and so soft. I know she's tired and so am I after all that traveling for nothing. I could fall asleep with her in my arms just like this. "C'mere," I say, pulling her up onto the bed until I end up on my side and she's next to me, facing me with her hand on my cheek. Her mouth is so close to mine and I want so much to kiss her. I wanted to before, but would prefer her to be awake and willing. Like right now. But I catch a slight tremble in her lower lip and chin -- a quiver so slight if I hadn't been looking at that very instant I would have missed it -- and I pull back further to look at her. She catches her lip in between her teeth for just a second, trying to stop it from happening again. "Tell me what you want," I whisper. "Tell me what you need." "I need this," she says, her hand slipping from my cheek until her fingertips brush across my lips. "I need you." "And tomorrow?" I ask, wondering what path this will send us down. It could be the path that pulls us apart. I'm not sure I want it if that is what's going to happen. "Tomorrow . . ." she starts to say as I kiss her fingertips. Her eyes shut at the sensation and she opens her mouth to say more but it takes a while. "Tomorrow we take the path we need to and hope it brings us here again." Scully moves in a little closer and our lips meet for only a few seconds. It is brief but it sends fingers of heat spreading through my body. Then she snuggles up against my chest, and I can feel each and every breath she takes become slower and more modulated. She's falling asleep again. ************* I feel her move away from my body and it wakes me up immediately. "Are you going home?" I ask, trying to see what time it is. I don't want her to go, but it is midnight already. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, watching out the window again. "No. I'm just uncomfortable sleeping in this," she says, tugging at the bottom of her sweater. I put my head back down on my pillow and try to keep my eyes open. "You could take it off," I mumble, expecting to be ignored. She's overlooked most every comment I've made with a sexual undertone in the past seven years. Why would she start listening now? "I could," she says, standing up and peeling it off of her body. She is silhouetted against the windows and right now there's no way my eyes are going to go shut. I watch as she lets it drop on top of her jacket. Then I listen to the zipper slide down on the side of her skirt. She sheds that and her hosiery quickly, placing them all neatly with her jacket. "Would you like something to wear?" I ask, wondering what is wrong with me that I asked her that. Then I realize that I respect every fiber of her being and she should know that I want her to be comfortable. "It is a little cold in here," she says, reaching out to turn off the fan. I usually have it running for the noise. I was so used to sleeping next to the bubbling fish tank that when I finally did move back into my bed, it seemed so silent in here. "Here . . . it's all nice and warm," I say, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it to her. She holds it a bit before pulling it on. "Do you always sleep with all your clothes on?" she asks and I realize that I even still have my shoes on. I quickly take them off and cast them aside. "Yeah, just in case I have to run off to England in the middle of the night," I say as I try to remember where I threw my pajama bottoms. She lets out a soft, nearly indiscernible laugh as I stand up and start looking around for something more comfortable to wear to bed. Shit. Everything is packed in the bags I left out in the hall or in the laundry. "Just because you only ever see me sleeping in my clothes doesn't mean I don't actually own any pajamas. But it looks like I get to sleep in this, considering I can't find . . ." I stop talking as I watch her crawl over the bed on her knees and reach for me, pulling me by my arm back to her. Her hands go to the button on the waistband of my jeans, slipping it through the buttonhole. Then she pops the button-fly open quickly and easily and she's lucky I'm so tired or at this point she'd be greeted with something far more nefarious than just my boxer shorts as she slides my jeans down over my hips. "You can sleep in this. I don't mind," she says as she sits back on her heels. She smiles a little before she looks down -- not at me -- but just down. "It just won't ever feel like the first time with you." "Is that good or bad, I mean in your experience? Personally, I've had some pretty bad first times in my life. And a few fairly good ones. It's just I've never known someone like I know you," I say, and I pull her up so we are hugging, her head nestled against my chest. "It's a big step, but I don't think it is the defining step in our relationship. Maybe that isn't right . . . or maybe that is the way it should be." "Mulder, if we don't stop talking about it and stalling for time, there will never be a first time," she says and then I realize I am stalling. We're stalling. "I went away for two days, your life changes, you have a visitation by God and you end up in my bed. I think that is reason enough to stall for just a bit. Why now, Scully?" I say, my hands going up to her hair, running through it and tussling it a bit. "I already told you. This is where I belong -- where we belong," she says, pulling free from me. Her arms wrap around my neck and she draws me down for a kiss. Her mouth opens under mine for the first time ever and the moment our tongues touch sends a spark through my body that even exhaustion can't defeat. She backs up on the bed, bringing me with her, until we are both on our knees, kissing and caressing each other. My hands slide up under her shirt . . . my shirt . . . and unfasten her bra so I can feel more. Her nipples harden as I brush my thumbs across them and I feel her moan against my mouth before she breaks our kiss. "I want to stay here forever . . . then there will be no paths and nothing can change," she whispers to me in the darkness. "Eight a.m. annual resource management meeting . . . Skinner . . . gotta go . . ." I mumble, feeling her fingertips brush across my chest mimicking on me what I'm doing to her. "He'd notice . . . if we both called in and missed it. Oh . . . yeah." My hands slip out from under her shirt and hang limply at my sides as she dips her head down, her tongue brushing across my nipples. She takes one in between her lips, swirling her tongue around it and a slow, heavy burn crosses my body and deposits itself in my groin, lingering there and growing even heavier with every flick of her tongue. Her fingers move hesitantly down my stomach, coming to rest on the waistband of my boxer shorts. I feel her play with the fabric, not sure of her next move. Her hand then traces down the front of the cotton material and she makes a humming sound against my chest. I would make a sound, but I can't breath well enough for that. Actually, the only sound I can make is one of me trying to suck in air as her hand snakes into my boxers and strokes up my erection. I fight the urge my hips have to buck up against her hand, but I fail. She moves her mouth away from my chest and together, we get my boxers as far down as my knees and I stumble around on the mattress trying to shed them the rest of the way. She wraps her fist around my cock and pumps it, slowly at first but picking up the pace when I ask -- rather, beg -- her to. Her thumb brushes across the tip, capturing the tiny drop of fluid there and spreading it around, making the whole operation smoother. There are no other noises in the room except the sound of us breathing -- raspy, strained breaths -- and the sounnd of wet flesh against wet flesh, sliding up and down. "I want to touch you. I want to feel you move for me. And I'd gladly give up the chance to change every road not taken and every road discovered tomorrow for right now," I whisper, my hands moving her shirt up until I can see the lacy black panties she has on. I pull them down a little, just enough to slip my fingers between her thighs and discover how warm and wet she is. She settles down on my hand as my fingers find her clit and we both continue touching each other with a perfectly matching rhythm. Our combined efforts make the mattress springs squeak and I smile because now I know two more things I didn't know just a few minutes ago. I know the sounds and the scents of the two of us together. Our eyes never separate as we do this, but instead we seem to be impossibly focused on the other. It is getter harder and harder the closer I get to the edge she bringing me to and this isn't how I want this to happen. I want to be inside her, to feel her warmth wrapped around me. I don't just want to come in her hand, making a mess everywhere. Scully must feel the same way because she moves back from me, releasing my cock from her grasp as she catches her breath. She toes her panties off the rest of the way, and her shirt drops down, covering her up completely. I lean back on my heels, aching for her touch again. Any touch would do. I reach for her, pulling her to me and a low, raspy moan escapes my throat as she straddles my hips, her wet sex brushes across me. Now I know I can't take much more as I wrap my hands around her waist for support. "You're sure?" I ask before this finally happens. I don't want to be a road that should have never been taken or one that leads to a tangled path of regret. "Very," she says, edging in closer and allowing me to sink into her body. Her inner muscles tighten around me and if she were to move, it would be over in an instant. I won't lie. It's been a while and the sensations are overwhelming. Both of us just stare at each other for a few seconds, our expressions registering pure pleasure mixed with a healthy dose of surprise. Sure, this might have always been the only place our roads could lead to, but still, in the end, being here is so unexpected. Then she moves, using her hands on my shoulders for leverage. She moves and I move and then I think I'm going to die. I fight to pull all my synapses in my brain back together and remember that I need to touch her, so this is good for her, too. I slip a hand between us and hear her utter a throaty moaning sound as I make contact with her clit again. The bed rocks under us as we move against each other, trying to draw this out yet too curious to make it last for long. Far too curious to drag this out to unreasonable lengths that I couldn't possibly attain anyway. I feel like telling her a million more things but she probably isn't listening to me at this point anyway. Kind of like it's a slide show only so much better. She easily slides up and down my length, stopping only long enough on the upstroke to kiss me every once in a while. Scully stops moving and I feel her body begin to quake around me and her eyes crinkle up at the corners and I think I'm more in love with her right now than I've ever been before. A gasp. A pant. A sigh. I even love the noises she makes. She nudges my hand away and drops kisses across my face before she starts moving again. My hands settle low on her hips, helping her move until she hits the right pace and I know it won't last too long. Not this time. It just can't. We're both too tired and this has been so long in the making that neither of us can force it to last a second more. I slam up into her body one last time and everything explodes around me. Earth and sky and what might have been no longer matter as I spiral past where we are right now. I fight to catch my breath and eventually I have to tumble back to the here and now, which is good. This is the only place I want to be. Scully wraps her arms around me tighter, holding me as close as possible and I somehow maneuver us into a more comfortable position. A horizontal one. I'm still inside of her body, her one leg is still wrapped around my waist and I know I can't stay awake much longer. Too much has happened today. She reaches around for the comforter and pulls it over both of us and we got lost in the warmth of it and each other. ************ Scully moves in my arms and it pulls me out of the deep heavenly blue dream state I was floating in and sinks me directly into a better state. Scully was sleeping in my arms and I am . . . naked. She's not, but I'm pretty sure what I think happened before I fell asleep really did happen. No, I'm more than sure. I'm positive. She tries to slip out of my arms unnoticed but I don't let her get away with it. "You going?" I ask, pulling her as close to me as I can yet remain two separate entities. My hands slip up under her shirt to feel her warmth and she is so wonderfully warm. "I was just going to get dressed. I wanted to stop by the hospital before going in to work. If I'm a little late, will you cover for me?" she asks a question that doesn't even need to be asked. It's the other part of her plan that troubles me. "Why are you going there?" I ask, feeling her tense up in my arms just a little. She thinks I'm going to become incredibly protective and possessive of her now. I'm not. Not anymore than I already am. "Let me rephrase that. Did I do something wrong that makes you want to go . . . back to him?" Night still has its hold on this room, yet in the darkness, I feel her move toward me and place kisses across my face until she reaches my mouth. "No. Never. I just wanted to make sure he understood that this is my life. You are my life . . . or an exceptionally large part of it. Nothing is going to change that." "You really wanted to spend your life with him?" I ask, and she sinks into my arms with a sigh. "Once, a long time ago . . . forever ago. And there are days where I still question 'what if' but I have a feeling that had I decided to spend my life with him, somehow, you and I . . . still." "Yeah, I know," I mumble. Our mouths meet for one final deep kiss before she rolls out of my arms and slips off the bed, gathering up few pieces of her clothes that have fallen on the floor. I watch her walk to the bathroom and I can barely keep my eyes open. A million roads we *could* have traveled, visited by a few billion factors along the way, yet there is no way this couldn't have been. This lifetime or any lifetime. This is the only way. The End ************ Feedback is always nice and goes with either fish or red meat. damienma@bellsouth.net -- Just don't write to tell me they didn't do it because I don't care either way. A friend wanted smut, so I gave her smut.