Bonnie Gayle Hood
[email protected]
http://members.tripod.com/xtrordinaryxfiles/index.html
5/13/99
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CLASSIFICATION: A bit of angst, story, MSR
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RATING: NC-17 for language (hey this is ME writing:>) and sexual situations, nothing that bad though, it's kind of on the NC-17/R border
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SUMMARY: Mulder tells Scully he's getting married, but it's not what you would expect.
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KEYWORDS:S, MSR
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DISCLAIMER: (Most writers try to have fun with this but I personally just skip it when I'm reading, so...) Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, Fox, 1013, David, and Gillian, various others, and the BIG BAD WOLVES...umm lawyers! I don't own em, I just steal, but I will return them and I'll try to return them in better shape then I got 'em:>) If I did own 'em, not only would I be richer than I deserve to be, the UST mumbo jumbo would be a bad memory!
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SPOILERS: None at all. This is completely independent, but to get one joke, you should know who Diana, Phoebe, and Kristan (spelling?) Killar are. Try to spot it.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: A ton of 'em after the story.
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ARCHIVE: Sure just keep my name, e-mail address, and website. You can delete the extrordinarily long acknowledgments if you want to(g)
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FEEDBACK: Hey, a girl can dream can't she? If you would like to, I will love you forever, good OR bad feedback I can take it, I've had worse than you can dish out, trust me!
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In Out, In Out

'He's late!' Is my first thought as I step into our strangely empty office.
'He's never late!' Is my second thought as I sit at my own desk. When our office had been burned to the ground by a perp, Mulder finally listened to my requests for a desk. The office was burned who's as yet uncaught and unnamed; but I have a few guesses (where there's Cigarette Smoking Man, there's a cigarette; where there's a cigarette, there's smoke; and where there's smoke there's fire.)
'Something's wrong.' Is my third thought in panic right before the door opens and Mulder steps in.
I turn to face Mulder, when I realize he's still standing silently, inches in the door with a cryptic look plastered on his face.
"Mulder?" I can see him mentally shake himself and then take a step closer.
"Sorry I'm late. I have news."
I frown at the abruptness of his speech and study his face. Usually I can tell a multitude of things by it, but now it's carefully blank and expressionless, forcing me to ask. "Good or bad?"
I'm surprised to hear his soft deprecating laugh, but I'm even more surprised by the obscureness of the next words out of his mouth.
"Honestly, I've no idea how you'll take it, so that's completely up to you."
I'm silent, waiting for him to continue, but obviously he needs prodding. "Well?"
"Oh, I'm-I'm getting married."
I stare blankly at him for what feels like an eternity, and then the meaning of what he said sinks in.
"Really?" I ask, hoping beyond hope and praying beyond prayer that this is his sick, twisted idea of a joke. As I ask this, I'm trying to keep everything regulated. My breathing, in out, in out, my voice, really anything I can control in an uncontrollable situation. My heart, though, is a lost cause. It stopped when I realized the import of his words, and is now doing this odd racing fluttering rhythm that would have me worried if my mind wasn't so busy with more important matters. It's starting to hurt now with every beat. I realize analytically, in the part of my brain that is still functioning, that this is what a broken heart feels like. Oh sure, I've had other break-ups with other boyfriends-oh God! Mulder was never my boyfriend! We were never dating! We were-we were-friends! Doesn't he know? Doesn't he realize how much I love him? In out, in out. I can hardly bite back the hysterical laughter that is stuck in my throat like a lump and is ricocheting off of the inside of my head so badly that I have to pull myself back to the situation at hand, when I hear his defensive answer. In out, in out.
"Really." My breathing stops and then starts again. I remind myself to keep track of it. In out, in out.
"Oh." In out, in out.
I see a flash of what could be pain on Mulder's face, but it's there and gone so fast that my crumbling sanity probably imagined it. In out, in out.
"Well-I should go. I'm not going to work today, and you might as well go home."
Gasp, hitch, bad Dana, in out, in out.
He's gone. With another look of pain, this one more definite. My mind isn't functioning properly. It's racing like the hare and crawling like the tortoise at the same time and only succeeds in shutting itself down. My head is full of questions I need answers to. In out, in out.
I race out of the room to find him leaning against the wall, inches from the door, chin on chest.
"Wait!" I cry, even though he isn't moving. In out, in out.
There's a look of hope in his eyes as they slowly rise to meet mine. I plunge on.
"Who? Who is she?" There's so many questions, why did I choose that one? Because the most important one scares me beyond belief-how can I face you everyday? Everyday loving you? Everyday you're married? Is it possible? Is it possible for my sanity to withstand that? In out, in out.
The hope in his eyes disappears and pain replaces it, but that doesn't compute with what he says next.
"Who? It doesn't really matter, but I met her-I met her-at a bar," he spits out. His anger doesn't make sense either, but nothing has so far this morning. The reply hurts as if he ripped out my guts, chewed them up a bit, and then replaced them in the wrong positions. In out, in out.
"A-a bar? Mulder that isn't you-" I trail off as he shakes his head.
"Scully-I'll see you tomorrow."
Tomorrow? There is no tomorrow! Don't you see Mulder? Don't you realize? It isn't going to work! It CAN'T work! I'll die! I'll just shrivel up. I love you too much. No, no, no! This IS NOT HAPPENING! In out, in out.
"Good bye Mulder." I try to put all my emotion into those two words, but they fall short. They come out squeaky and foreign to my ears. He frowns and then is gone.
When he's out of view, I break down. Sobbing and gasping against the unforgiving plaster of the wall, in out be damned! I continue crying for way too long. I finally realize that I'm at work, in the FBI building, where there's tons of cameras just waiting to catch me in a compromising situation. I straighten up on wobbly knees. Make my way slowly to the office, grab my bag and then walk slowly to the elevator and then I leave the basement. For good.
I look at my face on the mirrored elevator wall, the tortured eyes behind the raccoon eyeliner and realize with complete clarity how much I had grown to love and depend on Mulder from the first night I knew him, when I launched myself at him in my underwear, trembling and vulnerable. From that moment on I had never imagined a future without him, never imagined him, let alone me with anyone else. Another sob's wrenched from the empty cavity of my chest when I face the truth (which isn't out there anymore) that the unimaginable has just been forced on me, and there's no going back. In out, in out.




A bar? Where the hell did that one come from? I think to myself in the elevator on the way up to the parking garage. You know Mulder, you're a fucking genius. I walked in there with every intention of her walking out with me, going home with me. Never leaving me. And I fucked up. Royally. Now I have nothing to do for the rest of the day but figure up how it all went down the toilet. As I leave the parking garage in the shiny limo I had rented for the occasion, I call the new French restaurant and cancel our lunch reservations. Then I call the 4 Star hotel and tell them we won't be using the honeymoon suite tonight. Once I'm done with that, I uncork the bottle of Moet champagne, sitting in a bucket of ice, on the ready, and drink it straight from the bottle as I reminisce.
From the first day, the first case, the first handshake, hell, the first minute I laid eyes on her, I've felt something for her, something I couldn't quickly and easily explain. Which soon morphed to friendship, to attraction, to lust, to love, to something more. Something that not every couple shares, a devotion, and deeper understanding, a feeling that I'm complete only when she's by my side. And when she's not, it's as if she's taken a vital organ-my heart-with her, and kept it safe.
She isn't my type. Brown hair, long limbs, shared belief of little gray men, loose values-that's my type. Not red hair, practically a foot shorter than me, a disbelief of little gray men, and a look-ooh, that look. There's the 'Mulder, you're in trouble, big trouble' look. and the 'Mulder, do honestly call that evidence?' look. and last but not least, the 'Mulder, I can't admit to you how I feel yet, so look deep into my eyes and there you'll find my soul.' When she gives me those glimpses of her soul, the world falls away. There's no Syndicate, no FBI, no one else. Just us.
I look down at my teepeed pants ruefully. Just remembering that look, gets me into the problem that led me here, in the first place. Alone. I've always wanted to tell her how I felt but I didn't know how, or what that would do to us, to the X-Files, to my life. So I waited. For when, I don't know, but I thought I would know when the time was right.
I'd been (in Scully language) 'physically responding to her proximity' in a very embarrassing way, more and more lately. The last time, eating pizza on her hotel bed after our last case had been wrapped up, was the closest call.
She was cross legged on the bed, post shower, wrapped only in one of those white terry cloth hotel robes. Her hair had dried naturally, instead of being blown dry, and fell in soft waves over her shoulders. She was busy eating her slice of pizza and watching television, and hadn't noticed how her robe had fallen slightly open, revealing to me a sliver of her breast. I took one look at this and...responded. I quickly jumped up and excused myself to my room. But not before she glanced in my direction. I quickly turned my back to her, but I'm not so sure she didn't see. One long cold shower, and $5.00 for rental of Veronica's Slumber party later, I decided that I had to take action. It was time. When we returned to D.C. I contacted the best friends I have, for advice. The Lone Gunmen. Which, from the start, was a horrible mistake.
When Langley opened the door and ushered me in, I almost lost my nerve. But then I was facing The Lone Gunmen, and knew it was too late to turn back.
"Well Mulder, you said on the phone you needed help." Byers stated matter of factly.
"I...well...you see...."
"You said it was about Scully." Interrupted Frohike, eager as always to talk about her.
So I told them. Every embarrassing detail of it. From day one to the hotel incident. The entire time, all three nodded their heads and mm-hmmed in concentration.
After a few minutes of huddled conversation, they turned to me.
"Despite our surprise, Mulder, at you coming to us for love advice," Byers started, "we each have an idea. Mine is that you should do something special. Something different and surprising. Restaurant, champagne, caviar. The whole nine yards. And then, just tell her how you feel."
Then it was Langley's turn. "I think you should do something spontaneous. Like just saying how you feel, or just trying to kiss her. Or maybe give her a file or something and slip a note in with it that says how you feel. Maybe go to a concert and have them say something like, 'Scully, Mulder just wants you to know he's crazy about you!' That would be spontaneous, and girls like that."
Finally Frohike spoke up. "Yes yes, those ideas are all well and good. But I think if it's come to be this important, you should have it be make or break. Put on the pressure and see how she reacts. Give her an ultimatum. Like, tell her you met someone, and you want to know how she would feel if you started dating. You see, there's no pressure on her. You're always available and on hand, pardon the pun, if the mood happens to hit her. There's no urgency for her that it has to happen any time soon."
"I don't know Frohike. That seems kind of...I don't know." I hesitantly answered.
"Well go home and think about it." Frohike responded confidently.

And I did. Wouldn't it just figure that I chose Frohike's plan? Frohike, being the guy who has a raging crush on Scully and, of course, wants her for himself. And of course, being me, I figured that if saying I was going to date was good, then wouldn't saying I was going to get married be better? Wrong. Scully would call that Mulder logic and I'm starting to realize it doesn't work. The whole thing was destined to fail from the first second.

I eagerly went to work the next day. But when I reached the office door, I started to panic. What if she didn't act worried or whatever? Would I say, 'just kidding'? Would I actually carry on pretending I was getting married? Well, what would happen if she did say she didn't want me to get married? Would I just blurt out I love you?
I practically canceled it all right there. But I didn't. I continued going in. It all seemed to be going well until I told her.
'I'm-I'm getting married.' I practically pissed my pants right there.
'Oh.' Oh? OH? Oh shit! She was monotone, breathing so deeply and evenly. It was as if she didn't even care...oh SHIT, what if she really doesn't care? What next? After that moment I just wanted to get out of that office, away from Scully so my heart could break in private. I made some bullshit excuse about having the day off or something, and left the room. I made it to the hall before it all sank in. That was it. That was the big fucking deal. I had my answer, repugnant though it was. Now what? I leaned against the wall for awhile to get my bearings.
When Scully came out into the hall, I got my hopes up again.
'Where? Where did you meet her?' For a second I thought about being really cruel and saying that it was Diana, but I knew, even when she had just mortally wounded me, that I didn't want to hurt her.
'A bar.' Where in the fuck did that come from???? I'll never know. The pain in her eyes will stay with me forever. I wanted to confess, right then and there. But I knew she would hate me for it. So I decided to let it wait for a day, let her cool down.
'Mulder, that isn't you.' No Scully, it isn't. But neither is trying to tell you I love you, or getting $100 a pop champagne, or reservations at the most expensive restaurant in town, or reservations at the most expensive hotel in town. So much for change being good, I think I'll just go back to being plain old Mulder from now on. At least I don't get hurt that way.
'Scully-I'll see you tomorrow.'


The limo driver just dropped me off at home. Friendly chap. I frown at the bottle of Moet, dangling limply from my hand, when I find out it's empty. Wow, where did that all go? I jus' took a lil' drinky. After a long fumbling at the door with the keys, I open it and collapse on the couch, after a near-miss-how was I supposed to know which couch to aim for if there's two wavering in front of me? I fall asleep fully dressed. I'll definitely tell her tomorrow. Hopefully by tomorrow, when I wave one hand in front of my face, it won't multiply to two.


I'm in my office the day after. The day after I ruined the best thing I've got going for me in my life, hell, the only thing I've got going for me in my life. I've just realized it. Yesterday I thought that I could still repair the damage, that was before I got shit faced, then I didn't think at all. But now I'm sitting in my office. All alone. So much for telling her the truth. She's not even here to listen to it. I try calling her. One ring, two rings, three, four, five, six, seven, 'the cellular customer you are trying to reach, is not answering their cell phone'. Shit. I'm away from my desk in a second, headed for her house. Trying to pick up the pieces and put them back together before it's too late.



Day two and I'm still a wreck. Yesterday I cried myself to sleep. Today when I woke up, I wanted to make a fresh start. I drew up a lovely bubble bath with tons of bubbles, then I dressed in my most comfortable clothing, a cream colored cashmere sweater and black jogging pants-who the hell cares? It's not like anyone's going to see me-and curled up on my couch with a cup of mint tea and an afghan, while I ran through my CD's. I went through 7 cups of tea and dozens of CD's and was actually contemplating putting on my suit and going to work, when I reached one that always made me weepy, My Best Friends Wedding soundtrack, I was about to skip it, when I heard a song that I'd heard a million times before, but now it was talking to me:

You give your hand to me, and then you say hello
And I can hardly speak, my heart is beating so
And anyone can tell, you think you know me well,
But you don't know me
No you don't know the one, who dreams of you at night
Longs to kiss your lips, longs to hold you tight
Oh I am just a friend, that's all I've ever been
'Cause you don't know me
I never knew the art of making love with you
Though my heart aches with love for you
I was afraid of trying, so I let my chance go by
A chance that you might love me too
You give your hand to me, and then you say good-bye
I watch you walk away, beside that lucky girl
Oh you will never know, the ones who loves you so
Well you don't know me
Oh you will never know, the one who loves you so
'Cause you don't know me


You can just imagine what this did to my already damaged psyche. I ended up dropping my tea cup, violently turning the CD player off, and sobbing on my bed, curled up in the fetal position. So much for starting over.




After pounding on her door, trying to get her to answer, I finally give up and used my key. As I enter the dark empty house, I'm nervous. Her car is out front, so she has to be here...there's a slight sniffling noise coming from her bedroom. As I slip in her bedroom door, my heart breaks for the second time. She's curled up on her bed, knees pressed against her chest, crying. What have I done? I've made her cry. Damn me to hell!
"Scully?"
"Mulder, get away! I don't want you to see me like this." She croaks, embarrassed.
I couldn't even contemplate leaving. I go to the bathroom, grab a 1/2 empty box of tissues, the rest are balled up all over the apartment-oh Scully-and return to the bedroom. I curl up next to her on the bed and hand her the tissues. Even blurry-eyed, and snotty-nosed, she's the most mind blowingly beautiful woman in the world-that's just my opinion of course.
"Blow your nose Scully."
She complies, and I pull her close, pillowing her head on my chest as her tears dry up.
As soon as she's back to her old self, she looks up at me. "Mulder...why are you here?"
I smile at her sadly, "to apologize."
"Mulder?"
"It was a lie." I mutter, embarrassed.
"What...you aren't getting married?"
I nod. And when I feel her start to pull away I tighten my grip. "Let me finish before you hate me, okay?"
Feeling her nod against my arm, I position us more comfortably and start. My hand strokes through her hair the entire time.
"I went to the Lone Gunmen for advice-which was a bad idea-a very bad idea."
"Advice?" Scully's really curious now.
I scrunch my eyes closed, and try to garner my nerve to confess everything. "Love advice." Half squeak and half grumble, and entirely not the way I imagined telling her.
"Mulder?" I have her complete interest now.
I rush on, "Byers told me to surprise you, Langley told me I should be spontaneous, and Frohike said I should give you an ultimatum. I chose Frohike. I thought...I didn't think really. I just wanted you to know...how I felt."
I feel Scully shake and finally open my eyes. She's-she's laughing! Is that good or bad? Whatever it is, it isn't the response I expected.
"What?"
I guess the pain is evident in my tone, because she quickly stops laughing. "It's just, Mulder-taking advice from the Lone Gunmen-about women." She starts laughing again, and I finally admit that it is funny, and laugh with her. When we're finally more serious, I look deep into her eyes.
"I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"
"Mulder..." Her voice is a sigh as I slowly lower my mouth to touch hers. Once, twice, three times we brush lips. I pull back and question her with my eyes. Is this right? Is this what you want?
Her lips widen into a beautiful grin as she pulls me tight. "Yes, yes, yesss!" She answers me.
Then suddenly, we're all over each other. Hands going where they've always wanted to go. Lips locked. Clothing, a minor inconvenience. With no barriers and no inhibitions, I worship her breasts with my hands and mouth. As I suckle a nipple, she holds my head with shaky fingers. When I rub my tongue over it, she gasps and arches her back.
"Mulder!"
I make a path of tiny kisses up the arch of her neck, back up to her mouth. When our tongues tangle, her nails run down my back, fueling the fire in me that is already at full blast.
She rolls me onto my back and makes her own path down to my nipple, I gasp her name as she gently bites on it. Then her mouth is trailing further, her tongue darting quickly into my navel, before continuing. I nearly jerk up straight when I feel her small lips wrapped around a part of my body they've only gone to in my horniest fantasies. I shudder and try to get her name past my lips. I fail, but succeed in pulling her up by her shoulders.
"I want the first time to be special." I manage.
"Everything with you is special Mulder. Running through the mud, chasing the boogie man is special, as long as you're chasing it along side me."
I grin as I turn her onto her back.
"I...want...it...to...be...better...than...that...." I manage between kisses.
When I'm finally poised over her, I look deep into her eyes.
"I love you more than anything Scully. You do more than complete me. You do more than make me whole. Damned if I know what it is, but you do it." I manage to say this, with a steady voice.
With tears swimming in her eyes, she returns the sentiment. "I love you too, Mulder. I might not agree with you 100 percent of the time, I might not have the best time 100 percent of the time, but I don't regret a minute of it if the journey has brought me here."
And with that I know our friendship will end, but something more will take over with just one simple motion: In out, in out.
I don't hesitate a second to do this. And I never, ever look back.

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Note: I know some readers don't enjoy songs in the story, but this one fit SO well. If you did like it, it's on the My Best Friends Wedding Soundtrack, is sung by Jann Arden and is named You Don't Know Me. My Mom informed me that it's not the original, but she can't remember the singer, if you do know, please e-mail me and I'll put that on here too. There's another one on the CD, I'll Be Okay-by Amanda Marshall that reminds me of them too.
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There is more to a journey than the mere fact of arrival~~E.B.White
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The Trick Is To Keep Breathing~~Garbage
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If I could throw this lifeless life line to the wind--leave this heart of clay--see you walk, walk away--into the night and through the rain--into the dark, into the flame--into the light, out of the game~~U2--Bad
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"Let's say Mulder and me date--when would we kiss? I mean, when we're flying around a corner and just about to shoot an alien are we going to smooch and say, 'Be careful, honey. Come back with all your DNA intact?'"~~Gillian Anderson
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Oy, this is where I get to ramblin' so if you're the impatient type you can just skip it. There's nothing important...are you still here? OK, e-mail me for 1 million bucks! Just kidding :>) I doubt severly I will ever make an exceptance speech and besides, here you can't kick me off the stage, so I'm going to shove it all in here 1st of all I would like to thank my Mum for spellchecking stuff that would make other Mom's blush, but she's kool like that. And I would like to thank my Mom (again) and what the heck, my Dad. My Mom for being the bestest and ACTUALLY watching The X File's with me!!! My Dad denies it, but he's usually the one to unplug the phone and shush everybody. And to Tiffany for being my X-Files, cook extrordinare, and Playstation buddy. And to Fraulein Soldan, my Deutsch teacher, 'cause I actually like learning for 90 minutes of the day! And to David, who sadly is the unatainable one. Even though he's married and lives in L.A. and doesn't even know I exist he helped me believe that there ARE good Guys out there by just existing. David, if for some odd reason, you're reading this E-MAIL ME! And last but not least, to my gray fuzzy baby, my Miniature Scnauzer, the love of my life, Miss Buttercup! So enough of that before I thank all the people I've ever met. And thanks to Dads ferry buddies and...(fades into nothingness)
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