DISCLAIMER JAZZ: "The X-Files" and its characters are the 
creations and property of the fabled Chris Carter, Ten 
Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. I am, of course, 
using them without permission. No copyright infringement is 
intended. All other concepts or ideas herein are mine.
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: Through US season 7
ARCHIVE: ONLY ON THE AUTHOR'S OWN WEBSITE 
(http://rowan_d.tripod.com/elizabethr.html) UNTIL STORY IS 
COMPLETED. This way I can mess with the early parts as later 
parts develop...
TIMELINE: Though this takes place sometime after "all things", in 
this universe "Requiem" did NOT happen...


WATER'S EDGE
by
Elizabeth Rowandale (aka Elizabeth Boyd-Tran) <bstrbabs@earthlink.net>
Copyright (c) 2002


CHAPTER 10b


"Anyone perfect must be lying,
everything easy has its cost
Anyone plain can be lovely,
anyone loved can be lost
What if I lost my direction?
What if I lost sense of time?
What if I nursed this infection?
Maybe the worst is behind"
		--Bare Naked Ladies "Falling For the First Time"



They hardly spoke on the ride home, flying through the spring 
night air.  Dana rolled down her window and let the wind touch 
her skin.  Daniel rested his hand possessively on her thigh, 
still burning from the heat of her touch, as he steered the car 
with his free hand.  Dana seemed to welcome the contact, and 
Daniel struggled to keep his focus on the road.

If he remembered right, Dana had a strong preference for being 
the driver in any twosome, but tonight, she seemed content to 
surrender at least that much control.  She was deep within her 
own thoughts as she watched the city rush past, yet he could 
still feel her on his wavelength, tracking his movements (and 
maybe his thoughts).  He had pulled out onto the road before 
asking whose place they were returning to.  When they neared the 
exit for his neighborhood, Daniel glanced toward Dana, and she 
squeezed his hand in assent.
 
He was slowing the car now, winding through the narrower streets 
near his building.

Dana pushed her wind-tossed hair away from her cheek, leaned down 
to retrieve her clutch purse from the floorboards.  The sodium 
vapor lights dappled the skin of her shoulders like snowflakes.  
He couldn't believe she was sitting beside him.

Daniel pulled into his designated parking place beneath his 
building, shifted into park, and slipped the keys from the 
ignition.  He turned in the yellow lights to find Dana watching 
him with her characteristic intensity.  Reaching out, he touched 
his fingers to her cheek, brushed his thumb temptingly across her 
mouth.  His gaze rested on her slightly parted lips; Dana caught 
his thumb ever so lightly with her teeth, and Daniel leaned in to 
kiss her.  Her soft palm rose to cradle his cheek, and he was 
thrilled anew at the touch of her lips, the sweet welcoming 
warmth.  Their kisses were gentler now, but still with an edge of 
hunger that made him ache for her.  With a last caress down his 
arm, Dana climbed out of the car.  Daniel wrapped his arm around 
her shoulders and held on as they made their way across the 
parking lot, footsteps echoing in the deserted enclosure.  At the 
building entrance, she reached out and tapped her own name into 
the security pad, glanced at him for a moment so he knew she had 
seen the pattern on her first visit, and Daniel closed his eyes 
and kissed her temple.

At the door of his apartment, Dana leaned against the wall as he 
fingered through his keys.  She spread her silk shawl wider over 
her bare arms as the building air conditioner ground to life, and 
he longed to warm her with his own heat.

Daniel pushed the door open and motioned for Dana to step inside.  
She smiled softly, her pale blue eyes catching the lights as she 
stepped over the threshold.  Ahead of her, out of the shadows of 
the dining room, bounced Daniel's oversized Golden Retriever, 
tail wagging and nearly knocking lamps off tables as she came.

"Tasha!" Daniel called, stepping forward to hold his clumsy, 
gold-hearted companion off of Dana's evening wear, but Dana had 
already stooped down to greet Tasha at her own level.

"Hi...," she said softly as Tasha came up to lick her nose.  "Who 
are you?  Oh, my God, Daniel, is she yours?" Dana looked up at 
him with childish delight.
 
Daniel grinned at her, watching Dana massage Tasha's ears.  "Oh, 
yeah, she's mine.  Had her since she was 8 weeks old.  She'll be 
six next month."

"Where was she when I was here the other night?"

Daniel stooped down beside her, reaching out to stroke Tasha's 
back.  "She was with my sister.  I had just gotten back from a 
medical convention in Chicago about an hour before you called.  I 
had been about to drive out and get her.  You just caught me."

Scully winced.  "I'm sorry.  You should have told me, you could 
have gotten her first."

He smiled.  "And risk you changing your mind?  Never occurred to 
me.  Besides, I didn't know you were such a dog person."

"Are you kidding?  I'd give anything to have a dog again."  Dana 
touched her nose to Tasha's, eliciting another wet kiss.

Daniel laughed.  "Well, I'm glad you two are hitting it off so 
well.  She does seem to like you.  She's hardly noticed me."

"Oh, she can see you anytime," Dana teased, her focus still on 
Tasha.  "She's so beautiful."  Dana pushed to her feet, one hand 
stroking the animal's solid head.

"Can I offer you a drink?" Daniel asked, moving toward the 
kitchen.

"That would be lovely, yes."

Dana strolled along behind Daniel and Tasha hung close at her 
heels.

"Does she need to go out?" Dana asked.

Daniel nodded, retrieving two goblets from an over-counter 
cupboard.  "I'll take her down in a minute.  Wine?"

Dana shook her head.  "Just some water, or iced tea if you have 
it.  I had my limit with dinner."

He looked over his shoulder at her, eyebrows lifted in question.  
Two glasses wasn't her usual limit.

"I want to stay awake tonight," she said, her voice dropping with 
her lids, and making him swallow hard before he could regain his 
voice.


*****


Scully sipped her iced tea and settled into the luxurious couch, 
alone for the moment while Daniel tended to Tasha.  The light was 
soft, the muted colors comforting.  In the silence, her awareness 
of herself and her body focused a bit.  Her muscles were tired 
after hours of work and not a moment to rest before her evening 
out.  She started to feel the nagging pull of the clips holding 
her hair in place.  Setting her drink on the coffee table, Scully 
began methodically extracting the pins from her hair.  She shook 
its softness down around her shoulders, ran her fingers through 
the imposed bends and curls.  Crossing to the front door, she 
dropped the pins into the outer pocket of her purse.  Then she 
stopped by the mirror above the mantel, checking her hair and the 
smudges in her make-up.  It was a little unnerving to catch her 
own reflection tonight.  She was so unaccustomed to this Dana.  
This woman, in heavy evening liner and diamond earrings, 
shoulders bare and pale.  She couldn't pretend she didn't like 
what she saw.  But it was making her remember in flashes--other 
times, other places.  Times when she had known this Dana quite 
well, relished spending time in her skin.

Sinking back into the welcoming couch, she took another sip of 
the cool drink, crossed her legs and propped her shoe on the rim 
of the coffee table.  She could get used to living in a place 
like this.  Not a huge step up from her own accommodations, but 
just enough hint of affluence and luxury to tickle the senses.  
She wondered if Daniel ever played the piano himself anymore, or 
just kept it around for when his family was visiting.

*His family.*  She closed her eyes against the rush of memories 
that thought triggered.  The lingering issues there were not for 
tonight.  They would have their time.

The door clicked behind her and in a second two giant golden paws 
hit the back of the couch and a cold, wet nose shoved into her 
hair.

"Tasha!" Daniel said reprovingly, pulling the animal away from 
the couch, but Scully was laughing and reaching back to pet 
Tasha.

"I don't mind," she said, pulling a leg beneath her as she turned 
to face Daniel.

"It's a good thing," he said, unhooking Tasha's leash and letting 
her bounce around the couch to continue inspecting her new 
friend.

Daniel took his own drink from the end table and circled around 
to settle beside Dana.  He gave Tasha a gentle coaxing, and with 
a vaguely reproachful look toward her master, Tasha resignedly 
strolled away and settled in front of the dormant fireplace.  
Daniel turned his attentions firmly upon Dana.  "Now, where were 
we..."

Scully leaned an elbow on the back of the couch, twined her 
fingers together gracefully.  "I believe we were--"

"Wishing we were alone," Daniel finished, and Scully lifted her 
eyes to meet his heavy gaze.

"Yeah," she whispered.  "We were."

After a long beat of electric silence, Daniel leaned toward her, 
setting his drink on the coffee table as he moved, (giving her 
time for a defensive move), and caught her lips with his own.  
Scully responded quickly and forcefully, her body rising to the 
occasion and picking up right where they had left off at the 
fountain.

His scent was drowning her senses.  His presence, as always, had 
an element of home, of safety; of something to hold onto.  This 
felt so good, it almost hurt to let herself feel it.  It did 
hurt.  But she refused to pull away.  She couldn't keep running 
from everyone in her life, couldn't numb herself out forever.  
She was a doctor, she knew better than anyone how much it had to 
hurt to heal.  Her eyes hazed over with tears as his strong arms 
closed across her back, but she just kissed him harder, pausing 
only briefly to catch her breath.  She ran her fingers through 
his greying hair, stroked the soft skin at the back of his neck, 
cupped his face again.

Daniel's hands explored as hers did, making her shiver as his 
thick fingers moved against the thin material of her gown.  He 
stroked her back, ran his fingers deep into her hair, cradled the 
back of her neck.

Explored the back of her neck.

Flicked his finger over the minute scar tissue.

Whispered against her mouth.  "What's this from?  It's new."

And the world went surreal.

"Mmm.  Fuck."  The curse slipped quietly across her lips as she 
pushed back from Daniel, pulled away, trying to break all contact 
with his skin.

*Slam*, *crash*, every defense wall she had dropped throughout 
the past days rose into place like iron bars around a prison 
riot.  She saw the deep hurt and confusion cloud Daniel's 
countenance, but she couldn't really look, couldn't make sense of 
anything in that second.  And what the hell had she been 
thinking?  That she could have a normal life, that she could be a 
doctor's wife, that she could share her innermost secrets with 
anyone who lived outside the X-Files?  Illusions shattering like 
glass.

"I can't do this."  She felt sick, almost turned toward the 
bathroom instead of the door.

"Dana, my God, what is it?  Darling, what did I do, what's 
wrong?"

She was breathing like she had just run a mile, shaking so hard 
she knew he could see it.  "I can't..."  She stood up.  "I'm 
sorry, but I--I can't, I can't do this."  There were tears in her 
eyes and her face was burning, but all she could think was that 
she had to move.  She stood up and circled round to the back of 
the couch, toward the door.  "I have to go.  I'm sorry."

Daniel was on his feet in an instant.  "Dana, stop, please.  Talk 
to me.  Dana, what's going on?"  Always the doctor, always even-
voiced in the face of trauma.

She cringed.  "I can't..." Shifted her weight, shook her hands 
sharply at her sides, trying to shake off reality, propped them 
against her back to quiet them.

"Can't what?  Dana..."  He wanted to move toward her, she could 
see it in every fiber of his being, though she had yet to look 
him in the eye.  God Bless him for knowing when to hang back.

She drew several short breaths, trying a brief shot at control, 
just enough to get through a complete sentence.  "I can't...have 
this kind of a life.  I can't...pretend that I fit here anymore."

"Fit where?  In the medical world?"  He hesitated.  Then, "With 
me?"

The pain in his eyes hit her like a punch in the gut.  "No, it's 
not that.  Not the way you think."

"Then what way?  I don't understand, Baby."

*Dammit, don't call me that Daniel, not like that, not with that 
voice, you might as well just twist the knife.*  "I know you 
don't.  And I'm so sorry, but...  Daniel, you just...you have no 
concept of what my life has been for the past nine years.  And 
it's been so extremely outside of your frame of reference or 
anyone else's I know, that it's just inconceivable that I could 
ever share that with somebody who hasn't been there.  And I was 
just trying to forget with you and trying to go back and to 
pretend and believe it could be how it was, but it can't.  It 
can't, Daniel, and that's just how it is.  And I 
really...*really* have to go now."

She turned toward the door, but this time Daniel was around the 
sofa in a breath and had a firm grasp on her arm.  She pulled 
free, but she didn't step away.  His voice made her dizzy.  
"Dana, stop.  This is crazy, you can't just leave.  Obviously, 
something has deeply upset you, and if I did something wrong, I'm 
so sorry, but you have to tell me.  You owe me that much, Dana."

"Daniel, I'm asking you to respect me on this.  I'm asking you to 
let me go.  This can't work.  It just can't."  Her stomach was 
burning.  She had to get out of here.

"I can't accept that.  It *is* working."

"It's working, because I'm lying to you.  Lying by omission.  I'm 
not telling you what you need to know."

"Then tell me."

"Let me go."  Her hand was on the doorknob, but Daniel's hand was 
on the door.

"Tell me."  His breath was warm on her temple.

"Daniel, don't make me do this."  The more he pushed, moved in on 
her personal space, the more anger moved in over her hurt.  She 
could feel it brewing and she welcomed it, misplaced or not, 
because it was numbing her again, giving her a hint of control.  
*Come on, Daniel, make me angry.  Please.*

"I can't tell you, Daniel."

"You turned your back on me once before, a long time ago, because 
you asked me to share what I was going through at home.  You 
asked me to talk to you about my wife.  And I shut you out, kept 
you at arms' length.  And that was the biggest mistake of my 
life.  I should have talked to you then, Dana.  I hurt whatever 
chance we had when I did that.  Don't make my mistake.  I'm not a 
child, Dana.  There's nothing you can say that I can't deal with, 
*we* can't deal with."

Scully laughed.  A sickening sharp sound that hurt her own ears.  
"You don't want this, Daniel.  You don't want this in your life."

"Try me."

Scully ran her tongue over the corner of her mouth, took a step 
back, both from Daniel and from the door.  "Fine.  You want to 
hear it?  You *really* want to hear it?"  *Yes.  Anger.  Sarcasm.  
This was much safer territory.  I learned from the best, Mulder, 
never be honest when you can say something sardonic instead.*  
"All right, Daniel.  Make yourself comfortable."  She gestured 
toward the back of the couch, and Daniel, playing along with 
mocking over dramatization, settled onto the back of the couch, 
arms folded across his chest.

"Please, do begin."

Scully eyed him for a moment, her face hard, cold, wishing the 
same from him, because any real feeling was something to shy away 
from right now, to cover up and bury.

"All right, Daniel.  You want it?  Here...this is a recap of the 
last decade of my life.  No particular order, if you'll forgive."

He nodded, excessively formal.

"I'm missing 9 minutes of my life from 1992."

"Missing?  What do you--?"

"Just listen, Daniel.  You said you wanted to hear this, so just 
listen."  Her icy stare brought him to temporary silence.  "The 
following year I was abducted--either by the government or by 
aliens, that's up for grabs--but, I was missing for 3 months.  
When I came back I was in a coma with a seriously compromised 
immune system and a computer chip in the back of my neck.  
Helpful hint.  Don't take it out.

"In 1997, I was diagnosed with cancer--"

That chipped a wide nitch in Daniel's cool facade, loosed a 
glimpse of genuine sympathy, but she shut it out hard, unwilling 
to relinquish her defenses.

"An inoperable nasal pharyngeal tumor.  Chemo, radiation.  The 
whole deal.  It metastasized.  I was all but dead, when I went 
into a spontaneous remission.  Probably because that metal chip 
that was imbedded in my neck during my abduction was put back in.  
But that chip has a few side effects you might want to watch out 
for, like a tendency to summon me to burning bridges in the 
middle of the night.  So, if you ever see me taking off 
unexpectedly, you might want to stop me.  In '95 I was abducted 
and attacked by a necrophiliac.  We caught him, put him away.  
Then last year, he escaped prison and came after me.  Made it 
into my apartment, and you know what I did?  I blew him away.  In 
cold blood.  Knowing he was unarmed and my partner had him 
covered.

"Another side effect of my abduction--I'm barren.  My ova were 
taken.  All of them.  But they were used.  And I met my daughter 
once.  Beautiful, perfect little girl, named Emily.  I knew her 
for a matter of days, and I even tried to adopt her, but she was 
dying of a rare blood disease, and she died right in my arms and 
there was nothing I could do, and she didn't even know I was her 
mother.  What else, what else...oh, yeah, I'm a little paranoid 
about bees now, since I was stung by one carrying a deadly and 
possibly alien virus, and the next thing I knew I was caged in a 
vat of green slime in the Antarctic, until Mulder showed up to 
pull me out.  I have a tattoo.  I got it in a dive in 
Philadelphia, and I went out with a guy I met there, who turned 
out to be a psychotic killer who tried to throw me into an 
incinerator.  I had a 100-and-something year old man who looked 
35 try to eat my liver on two separate occasions.  My sister?  
Melissa?  She's dead.  Gunshot wound to the head.  A shot that 
was meant for me, but I wasn't there.  I thought I was protecting 
her, but I was wrong, and it was my fault.  I was stalked by this 
writer who lived next door to my partner and I had my heart 
ripped out of my chest by a character he created.  I fired my 
gun, repeatedly, right through him.  And when he was gone, I was 
soaked in my own blood, but I had no injuries."

She paused a moment, breathing heavily, not really meeting 
Daniel's eyes, but watching for every twitch of his expression.

"More?" she prompted.  "Or should I just go now...?"

Daniel was a blank page.  But she recognized the facade all too 
well, had seen it a hundred times as he stood before his students 
in a lecture hall.  He had switched into professional mode for 
the first time since she had appeared on his doorstep four nights 
ago.  She couldn't blame him for mirroring her own instinctive 
defense mechanisms, but she was lying when she told herself his 
detachment made it easier to leave.

The silence grew to an insistent presence in the room.

Scully swallowed hard, knowing she had to walk, had to return to 
her strengths, dive into her casefile, find the psycho before 
another woman died.  Time to step back into her comfortable 
basement reality.

"Right," she breathed, taking his silence as a response.  
"Well...thanks for listening.  It's been a lovely evening."  She 
turned on her heel, eyes on the floor, focus a million miles 
away.  Her shawl was still in the kitchen, but she didn't care; 
her purse was on the entrance table and that was all she needed.  
She was all but out the door, her fingers closing over the cold 
metal doorknob, when the warmth of Daniel's hand lowered on top 
of hers.

"Stop."  His deep voice was barely above a whisper and intimately 
close behind her.

"Daniel--"

"Stop...leaving me."

*Oh, God...*  The pain in his voice was like an accelerant to her 
own dark fires.  Her hard edge faltered, crumbled, and she was 
wide open, raw.  Tears blurred the doorknob into gold and flesh 
tones.  It was unforgivable to hurt him like this again.  She 
should never have opened the door...

"I don't want to."  Her voice quivered.

"Then, stay."

"I don't know how."

Daniel reached up and smoothed her hair, the most tender of 
touches...  "Yes.  You do."

She drew a trembling breath.  Weighing, waiting, wanting.  
"Everything I told you was true," she whispered, still watching 
the blur of colors below.

"I know."  His hand still moved, ever so gentle on the back of 
her head.  "I don't pretend to understand even half of what you 
said.  It's obvious we have about a lifetime of conversations 
ahead of us.  And I'm not going to promise you to offer blind 
acceptance.  I will try to rip some of those interpretations you 
just threw out to shreds, just as you would in my place.  But, 
Dana...*I want to listen*.  I want to go through it with you."

Her tears were winning now, her muscles cinching against them, 
but Daniel's hand was so warm on her hair and the cold solitude 
of the night so unforgiving.  She sniffed sharply, revealingly, 
and Daniel took the moment.  His hand shifted pattern ever so 
slightly, brushed her hair to the side, away from her neck; then 
the warmth of his lips pressed like a whisper against the cool 
white scar at the nape of her neck.

That broke her.  With a pained utterance, "Oh, God, Daniel", a 
last vocal resistance, Scully started to cry.  She turned in his 
arms, hand shading her eyes, but Daniel coaxed her shields away, 
kissing her eyes, her forehead, her warm cheeks.  His arms locked 
around her, supporting her, clinging to her.  And in a moment 
Scully was holding on just as tight.

Their kisses shifted gradually as she began to respond in kind, 
moving from purest comfort to an edge of desire.  And with every 
touch, the ache already alive within her transposed to a 
different need, fueled with the strength and passions of the 
first.

Daniel followed her every impulse, and Scully, for the first time 
in too many years, let go and took the upper hand.

She devoured his mouth with her own, reaching deep with her 
tongue, exploring every crevice, tasting each sweet juice.

Her fingers clawed at his buttons, his tie.  Working loose every 
bit of clothing she could catch.  Daniel's hands ran over her 
back, her hips, slipped between the closeness of their bodies and 
up over her ribs, tempting and teasing until she at last reached 
down and guided him up onto her breasts.  The soft moan that 
passed from his lips to hers at the contact was almost more than 
she could bear.

"Daniel...please...take me to bed," she breathed.

And in a moment Daniel had swept her slight body into his strong 
arms and was carrying her down the hall.


*****

(End Chapter 10b.  Continued in 10c...Yes, there's a "c" this 
time.:))
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