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...


AUTHOR'S NOTES: Parts of this chapter are very NC-17.  If you're 
too young to be here, please go home now.


"Water's Edge"
by 
Elizabeth Rowandale <bstrbabs@earthlink.net>
Copyright (c) 2003


Chapter 12b


"The more that I learn, the less that I know. 
Never thought I would want to slow down. 
Just focus on clouds in blue skies, 
Above all the rain, the sun shines. 

It's just an ordinary day. 
I'm much too strange for this ordinary world"
						"Ordinary" -- Greg Jones



Scully had always loved the scent of a university campus.  Once 
upon a time she had been more at home on campus than anywhere in 
the world.  There had been a comfort and freedom in the academic 
world that she had relished and clung to.  The endless power of 
knowledge.  Scully had once believed that somewhere in all these 
intricately carved buildings and countless volumes of texts lay 
the answers to the world.  All of her fears, she believed to be 
based in a lack of understanding, and if she just read long 
enough, found the proper teachers, the perfect chapters and 
manuscripts, the explanations would be found and the fear 
explained away.  With understanding would come security.

Scully still revered the pursuit of knowledge, still took 
pleasure in the feel of a pen in her hand, a book bag on her 
shoulder, notebooks spread across a library table.  But her 
youthful fantasies had tempered.  It didn't take very many days 
with Mulder to lose any illusions that all things under the sun 
could be explained by a book.

But this morning, Scully felt as though she were stepping back 
into a world she had once loved and quietly forgotten.  The 
expansive courtyard at the center of the campus was peppered with 
students, most in heavy trench coats sheltering them from the 
sharp bite in the wind.  The trees were still bare, save for a 
few intrepid buds testing the determination of spring.

Scully could have made a life for herself in a place like this.  
She could have gained the respect of her colleagues, she could 
have advanced through the ranks as well or better than in the 
FBI.  She could have been an influential and permanent fixture on 
a campus like this one.  And a part of her still regretted 
relinquishing that dream.

But in the end, for the world she would not change her path.  Her 
perspectives on life, her range of knowledge, of exposure to new 
ideas, people, cultures within her own she had walked past every 
day without an inkling of their existence...none of that would 
have touched her life if she had never come to the FBI, to the X-
Files.

And that body of knowledge was more precious to her than any 
subject taught in these halls.  The woman she had been in her 
academic years would never have come to a place where a man like 
Melvin Frohike would bring her herbal tea or mail her videos of 
Humphrey Bogart films to give her something to distract her in 
the too quiet evenings, and expect nothing in return but her 
heartfelt pledge of friendship.

Scully glanced down at the campus map she had obtained at the 
gate and traced her finger along the path she had walked, 
focusing on the building labeled number 36.  Biological Sciences.  
Adjacent to the Academic Building of the Medical School Complex.  
Yes, there.  Just on the far side of the quad.  She picked up her 
pace again, the clicks of her heels echoing off the circle of 
ancient stone buildings, suit jacket flapping in the wind.  She 
was glad for the turtleneck sweater sheltering her throat.  
Scully smiled softly when a boy half her age turned to follow the 
path of her breasts as she walked on in the form fitting sweater.  
Yes, of course, she was light years beyond needing that kind of 
affirmation of her worth or womanhood, but it still felt good on 
a cool late winter morning every now and again.

She pulled back the heavy door of the Biological Sciences 
building and stepped out of the chill into the shelter of the 
foyer.  Her ears settled from the silencing of the wind, and she 
followed the sounds of voices to the front office.

"Dr. Daniel Waterston's office?" she asked the slender blonde 
girl at the front counter.

The girl looked around from her conversation with her co-worker 
as if surprised at having to deal with an outside human being.  
She untwined her finger from her iron-flat hair and pointed down 
the hallway.  "Around the corner to your left.  Room 106.  I 
think he's there, but did he ask you to come?  Because he doesn't 
usually see students on Thursdays.  He'll probably make you get 
an appointment."

Scully suppressed a soft smile.  "I'm not overly concerned," she 
said evenly.

The girl eyed her for a moment, a little thrown, then shrugged as 
if to say, "Suit yourself, lady."  She really said, "Okay."

"Thanks." Scully moved off down the hall.

She found the office easily enough.  Daniel's door was only half 
closed; she could see him at his desk through the narrow opening.  
He was engrossed in something on his desktop, and she took the 
moment to observe him undetected.

He was perched on the edge of what should have been a luxurious 
arm chair, glasses slipping a bit down his nose, the front of his 
hair threatening to rebel from its carefully placed wave.  His 
suit jacket had been discarded and draped across the nearest pile 
of books.  His fingers loosely grasped the tip of an elegant pen.

He still took her breath away.

*How long had it been since she had taken a moment to let the 
pure joy of such a realization wash over her?*

The confidence in the way Daniel held himself, even in unguarded 
moments.  The focused intellect in his gaze.  The constant air of 
dignity waving off of him in the most menial tasks.  His inner 
beliefs in the role of a true gentleman.  All made their 
influence apparent in every gesture.

Daniel pulled off his reading glasses and tossed them onto a pile 
of papers.  He reached out to fish through a rack of mail on the 
far edge of the desk, and when he lifted out an envelop to 
inspect it more closely, his gaze rose and he caught sight of her 
in the hall.

With the eye contact, she gave him a languid smile.

"You realize I don't see students on Thursdays?" Daniel asked, 
leaning back in his chair and swiveling slightly.

"So, I've been told."  Scully took a step forward and pushed the 
door back, folding her arms and settling against the door jamb.  
"I hear you're pretty strict, Dr. Waterston.  Known for your 
flunk-out courses."

"That I am," Daniel said, a smile slipping across his playful 
expression.  The sparkle in his eyes warmed her blood.  "But I 
think, perhaps, today, I'll make an exception and agree to meet 
with you."

Scully moved leisurely into the room, stepping towards the far 
wall and inspecting the framed diplomas and family photographs.  
"Hmmm...I don't know.  I'm a bit suspect of what you might 
require of me in return.  I've heard plenty of stories about 
middle-aged professors and their young female students."

"Are you that young?" he asked, voice all mock-innocence, and 
Scully glared at him over her shoulder.

"Damn, you're sexy when you're angry."

Scully's mock glare softened to a sideways smile.  She returned 
her attention to the wall adornments, and Daniel rounded the desk 
and stepped up behind her.

His arms moved easily around her, one at her waist, the other 
across her shoulders, and he hugged her hard from behind.  Scully 
gripped his forearm, placed a tender kiss on his wrist, then 
rubbed absently at the trace of lipstick she had left.  She 
immediately felt herself warming, softening, as Daniel's solid 
form molded to her.  The support was tempting, welcome.  And for 
a moment she let herself sink against him, just to be there, safe 
and wanted in his arms.

"What are you doing here?" Daniel asked into her ear.  The 
sensation of his warm breath sent gooseflesh down her neck.

"Just wanted to see you.  See your office while I'm at it.  
Pretty impressive, I might add.  You've moved up in the world."

"Thank you," he said, a smile in his voice.  His hand rose from 
her shoulder to cup the side of her neck, his thumb lightly 
caressed her cheek.

"Is it okay?" she asked softly.

"What?"

"That I'm here."

Daniel's other hand moved slowly from her waist down to the 
center of her abdomen, and his open palm pressed her hips more 
firmly against him.  The small of her back hit his hardness.

"Yeah," Daniel breathed.  "It's okay.  It's always okay."

Scully swallowed and closed her eyes.  "I can't stay too long," 
she said at last.  "My partner and I have to drive up to 
Gaithersburg this afternoon to follow up on a possible lead in 
this case."

"Something big?"

She shrugged.  "Can't tell."

"Am I still seeing you for dinner?"

"I think so.  I'll call you when I'm able to get away.  When's 
your last appointment at the clinic?"

"Five.  I should be free by six at the latest."

She nodded.  Daniel bit her ear, and she smiled.  She turned 
easily in his arms, gazed up at his face in tender appraisal.

"You're so beautiful," Daniel whispered, his finger tracing her 
lower lip.

"And you...are a horny old professor," Scully said, unable to 
hide the laughter in her voice, and Daniel laughed openly with 
her.

"I may be," he said softly.  "But you're still beautiful, Dana 
Katherine."

Scully closed her eyes in silent gracious acceptance of his 
words.  She was learning how to take in lines like that.

She felt his kiss before she saw him move.  His lips closed over 
hers, gentle at first, then strong and soft and tasting of coffee 
and peppermint and a lost dimension of her life.

Amazing how years of relatively comfortable abstinence could 
vanish in one hot night, and leave the days and hours between so 
painfully lengthy.

Her sex drive had not withered with neglect, but merely waited 
patiently for its day back in the sun.

Scully lingered on the kiss for as long as she could, trying not 
to count the time, trying to forget the schedule imposed on her 
afternoon, the hours and minutes she had so carefully allotted to 
this task and that, and know that if she sank into this moment, 
she might remember it when she was 80 years old and that none of 
the rest of her thoughts this afternoon stood a chance.

When they pulled away, Scully opened her eyes and lay her intent 
gaze upon Daniel's.  He latched on immediately to the intensity 
of thought in her countenance, and questioned her silently with a 
flicker of one sandy-lashed lid.

Scully kept him waiting a moment, drew a slow breath and lowered 
her gaze to his mouth.  "There's something I've been wanting to 
do--" she cleared her throat, "--for the past few days.  Not to 
mention, the opportunity to fulfill a very old fantasy while I'm 
at it."

Daniel was eyeing her with cautious curiosity.  "And what might 
that be, Dr. Scully?"

Scully gave his chest a gentle press with her open palm.  "Go.  
Sit back down at your desk."

Daniel continued to gaze upon her questioningly, but she was 
offering no more illumination, and he was willing to play, moving 
deliberately over the path he had come and settling into his 
chair.

Scully lingered a moment, let him wait it out, waited until his 
attention shifted slightly, his gaze danced over the paperwork on 
his desk.

Then she moved.  Wordlessly, Scully crossed to the office door, 
pushed it closed and flipped the lock.  She circled the massive 
mahogany desk, feeling Daniel's gaze upon her, but focusing only 
upon her own intents, and she dropped to her knees, slipping 
easily into the desk's wide leg hole.

"Oh-ho, Dana, you..."

"Don't speak," she said, not glancing up, and she felt the 
muscles of Daniel's strong thighs flex beneath the light touch of 
her fingers.

She was enough out of practice that she couldn't manage a zipper 
entirely with her teeth anymore.  But the rest was hard to 
forget.

Despite the obvious challenges of a mouth and throat as small as 
her own, she had not forgotten most of her personal tricks.

She *had* forgotten the way the performance of the task on a man 
she adored could trigger her own arousal like a drug.

Each stroke of her tongue, each pull of suction in her cheeks, 
and each husky breath from Daniel's lips, was like a physical 
caress to her own sensitive folds.  The blood rushed through her 
limbs, making her feel strong and alive.  Delectable flutters of 
butterflies danced through her stomach, sinking ever lower.

She took her time.  Working him to the best of her abilities, 
pulling back, pushing forward, judging the slightest changes in 
his breath and gestures.  She toyed with him, drew her teeth over 
his sensitive skin, then captured the whole of him without 
warning, taking his breath away.

She felt the tension building in him, felt the insistent pulse of 
blood through his thin skin as it pressed against her tongue.  
The muscles of his thighs quivered beneath her fingers and she 
thrilled at the shared anticipation, a whisper of sensation 
brushing her own inner thighs.

Daniel's hands were in her hair, on her shoulders, caressing her 
upper back.  Demanding and gentle all at once, and she loved it 
both ways.

His hips were now moving in time with her ministrations, and she 
could feel the tremendous effort channeled into keeping his 
thrusts gentle.

His breath was rapid and sharp.  His fingers gripped at the cloth 
of her sweater, and his thigh muscles tightened as he gave a 
muted sound of deepest pleasure.  His firm brace on the floor 
faltered, and he grabbed at the desk for support.  All of this 
gave Scully a half second warning, and left her ready for him to 
empty into the back of her throat.  She swallowed; gave a throaty 
gasp for breath that sent a reciprocal shiver through Daniel.  
Suck.  Swallow.  And knowing she could bring this man of such 
intelligence and strength and influence practically to his knees, 
was both a delicious rush of power and achingly erotic for her.

Daniel's hand on her hair was so infinitely gentle.

"Dana..." he said softly.  The reverence in his voice was clear.  
The love.

Scully leaned into the warm hand that had risen to caress her 
cheek as she fell back to catch her breath.  She cleared her 
throat, licked her lips.

"Dana..."  He was so out of breath.  So content.  "Thank you, my 
love..."  She had done that for him.

Daniel pulled his pants to a careless approximation of closed and 
sank back into his chair. Scully moved with him, leaning forward 
across his lap and resting her cheek against his still quivering 
thigh.  His hand continued to stroke her hair as the other rose 
to cradle the back of her neck.  She felt the heat of his skin 
mere millimeters from where the metal chip lay beneath her skin, 
and she imagined the warmth of his touch dissipating the 
offending circuits and wires, leaving her clean and pure and 
safe.

"You always were the best at that."  A little more air and a 
little more humor in his voice now.  A hint of a laugh.

"I've always loved you," she said simply, not expecting the 
words, but knowing their truth as she heard her voice.

For a long time they just breathed together.  Scully wanted to 
keep the moment in a vase.

By mutual consent, she rose and straddled Daniel's lap, savoring 
the warm contact from his still open zipper on her own ultra 
sensitive core.  She rested her head on his shoulder, and his 
solid arms closed possessively across her back.

"I owe you one," Daniel said into her shoulder.  She nodded, not 
caring at all about payback.  Reveling in the pleasure of being 
free to give.

"I'll be here," she said.  And she believed it.


*****


Scully flipped open her badge holder as she approached the front 
desk of the Kincaid Medical Research Center.  Michaels did the 
same beside her.  "Good afternoon.  We're Agents Scully and 
Michaels from the FBI.  Would you be the gentleman I spoke with 
earlier?"

The young man nodded, his long bangs falling across pale blue 
eyes.  "Yes, Ma'am."

"Do you mind if we ask you a few questions to start off?"

Judging from the young man's expression, he minded quite a lot, 
but he merely pushed back his hair, set down his pen and shook 
his head.  "Yeah, sure," he said.

"Did you know Miranda Lockheart?"

He shrugged.  "I knew a woman named Miranda who used to help out 
around here sometimes.  I didn't know her last name."

Michaels held out a picture.  The young man held back his hair 
and took a look, then nodded.  "Yeah, that's her."

"What can you tell us about her?" Michaels asked, leaning an arm 
on the high counter around the front desk.

"Not much.  I hardly knew her.  She seemed to kind of show up 
when she wanted to and blow us off when she didn't.  I was kind 
of surprised they kept her on, frankly.  Usually this place is 
pretty picky about who they employ."

"Picky how?" Scully interjected.

"Just the usual.  Punctuality, grooming, that kind of thing.  But 
they're not as picky about the subs, I guess."

Michaels raised his eyebrows.  "Subs?"

"They're not regular employees.  Almost like volunteers, really, 
but they get nominal pay.  They help with the grunt work. No 
paperwork or contact with medical equipment that could affect our 
patients."

"And what about you, do you work with patients?" Scully asked.

The young man sat up a bit straighter.  His nametag came into 
view.  Dory Sullivan.  "Yeah, sure.  I'm a biochem major, I'm 
doing graduate work.  I'm training for lab work primarily, but, 
I'll be working with patients too.  I take histories, draw blood, 
that kind of thing.  Why?  I mean...can I ask you what this is 
all about?  I mean, why do you care what I do here?"

"We're just covering our bases," Scully said evenly.  "Miss 
Lockheart has run into some trouble, and we're just trying to 
find out more about her."

"What about the other subs?  Anyone she was particularly chummy 
with?" Michaels asked.

Dory nodded right away.  "Yeah, definitely.  Short guy, um...oh, 
what's his name...Dennis.  Yeah.  In fact, I think he's working 
today.  Do you want me to find him?"

"If you would, please," Scully said, eyebrows lifted.

Dory reached for the phone on his desk, punched in a few numbers 
with his middle finger and lifted the receiver to his ear.  
"Yeah, Nancy," he said softly, turning slightly from Scully and 
Michaels.  "Is Dennis back in the labs?...Could you send him up 
front for a few minutes?...Thanks."  He swung his hair back as he 
turned to face them again.  "He should be out in a minute."

Scully gave a cursory smile.  "Thank you.  In the meantime, would 
you mind telling us something about the research that's done 
here?"

Dory took on a more professional posture, clearly moving into 
territory he was more comfortable with.  "The Kincaid Medical 
Research Center specializes in research into various sleep 
disorders, particularly those of a severe or debilitating nature.  
We gather information, and apply that information to develop new 
therapies and technologies to improve the lives of those who 
suffer from these disorders."

"I see."  Scully bit down hard on the words, *"And is that a word 
for word quote from the pamphlet, or...?"*  A glance toward 
Michaels showed the same question on his countenance.

"How do you find your patients?  Are they primarily from doctor 
recommendations, or do you advertise?"

"Most of our patients come to us through word of mouth or doctor 
recommendation.  We're certainly not lacking in volunteers.  Most 
times we have more volunteers than we can use.  Sleep disorders 
are far more prevalent than most people realize."

Scully nodded, holding the young man's gaze intently enough to 
make him uncomfortable.  "I imagine so."

The squeak of wheels drew their attention, and Scully turned to 
see a young man in hospital scrubs, wheeling a supply cart down a 
nearby hallway.  She caught his gaze and offered a polite smile.  
"Are you Dennis?  I'm Agent Scully of the FBI, this is my partner 
Agent Mich--*Whoa*!"  The scalpel actually whistled as it whipped 
past her ear, slicing the air where her eye had been a second 
ago, and clattering noisily to the far side of the lobby floor.  
"What the hell?"

Michaels was already between Scully and the young man, weapon 
raised, by the time she straighten her head.  "Sir, I need you to 
calm down, we're not here to hurt anyone.  Are you Dennis?  We're 
just here to ask--"

"Stay away from me!"  The strangled voice echoed through the 
polished hallway as the young man turned and began a run back the 
way he had come.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stop!" Michaels called, 
lifting his weapon to regulation firing stance.

"Sir, hold your position!" Scully shouted angrily, her own hand 
grasping her weapon as she pushed off into a run in pursuit.

"Stay there," she heard Michaels say to Dory, then his familiar 
booted footsteps were clacking the floor behind her.

"Dennis, we are armed.  Stop where you are!" Michaels called.

But Dennis was moving remarkably quickly for a young man of his 
sturdy physique.  He took a sharp corner to the right and when 
Scully hit the intersection of hallways, she paused only briefly 
to check her unguarded left before following the young man's 
path.  "You're in no danger, if you halt now!" Scully shouted, 
but she knew the futility of her words.  She was merely covering 
her own ass.

The hallways lead into an endless labyrinth.  Door after door 
whizzed past her peripheral view, each alike--white with a square 
window in the upper half.

Scully was running full out, gaining on the suspect, her legs 
feeling solid and strong beneath her, her weapon a reassuring 
weight in her hand.

The dizziness hit out of the blue.  Like she'd stepped off an 
invisible ledge.

"God..."  Her pace slowed and Scully reached a blind hand toward 
the wall, her weapon slipping to her side.  She squinted at her 
surroundings, hoping for some kind of clarity, a focal point, but 
the bright white walls were blurring into meaningless light, and 
she didn't know where the walls ended and the floor began.

Scully dropped against the wall and pressed her open hand tight 
to the surface beside her hip.  She closed her eyes, but she 
could still feel the world spinning around her, the resounding 
beat of her heart and the deafening rush of blood in her ears.  
There were voices in the distance, but she was too wrapped up in 
her own swirl to calculate the meaning.

The erratic movements slowed a bit and she was venturing to move 
her eyes around by the time the sharp clack of Michaels' boots 
signaled his approach.

"Dana?"  His hand hit her shoulder with a firm impact as he slid 
to a halt.  "Dana?  What's wrong, are you okay?  Where did he 
go?"

She swallowed against a surface wave of nausea.  An after effect 
of the loss of balance.  "Go.  He turned left up there, go!"

He took half a step back, hand still on her shoulder.  "Are you 
okay?"

"I'm fine, just GO!"

She had hardly opened her eyes, made no eye contact, but her 
voice was strong, and despite the touching degree of concern in 
the lines of his face, Michaels gave her a quick nod, and 
launched himself onto the suspect's path.

Scully squinted after him, panting for breath, and letting the 
world settle down around her.  *Jesus.  What the hell?*

The hurried footsteps faded into the distance.


*****


When Michaels returned, Scully had walked half the distance to 
meet him.  They were both wanting for breath and Michaels shook 
his head as he approached her.  "Freakin' back door.  Lost him in 
the street," he said, and Scully just nodded, falling into step 
behind him as they returned to the front desk.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure?  What happened?"

"I'm fine, it was nothing."

Michaels watched her for a moment, but let it go.

"Are all your employees insane or is this a recent development?" 
Scully tossed at Dory as they re-emerged into the lobby.  But the 
pale color of the young man's face seemed genuine, and Scully 
doubted very much he had expected the attack.

Scully and Michaels spoke to every employee on the premises over 
the next two hours.

They got nothing but answers from textbooks and pamphlets.

They took away the address of the man who had vanished into the 
crisp afternoon.  A dingy apartment complex nearby.  They didn't 
expect to find him there.  Their instincts proved correct.

Time to go back to home base and regroup.


*****


The deep silence had so long prevailed in the basement office, 
Scully jumped when Michaels' voice broke the bubble.

"That's it.  I'm officially going in circles.  I think I'm 
calling it a day."  He snapped closed his laptop.  

Scully looked up from her own computer and pulled off her 
glasses, drawing a finger over the tense skin beneath her tired 
eyes.  "I think I'm with you.  We seem to have done enough damage 
for one day."

"We're making progress, I think," Michaels said, his tone 
revealingly open for a moment.  "We may track down Dennis again.  
We're closing in on something, or we wouldn't keep pissing people 
off so much."

Scully gave a dry laugh.  "Gannon, Mulder and I pissed people off 
daily for years in this job.  Trust me, it doesn't mean you're 
getting anywhere."

Michaels gave a soft smile.

Scully acquiesced.  "But I do think you may be right.  I think 
we're circling something.  I’m just not sure where we'll land 
yet."

They moved together in silence, working through the standard end-
of-day routines.

Michaels shrugged into his suit jacket, his belongings already 
gathered at his feet.  He turned back to face Scully where she 
stood beside her desk, still not quite ready to leave.  "Okay.  
I'm going to try this one last time.  Amanda's making spaghetti 
tonight, and she always makes about two weeks worth so she can 
have it on hand for the nights I work late, and God knows I've 
been doing enough of that, lately.  So, there's bound to be 
plenty to go round."  He lifted his eyebrows to her in open 
entreaty, "Will you join us for dinner?"

Scully didn't speak for a moment, and her partner probably 
suspected she was sorting through the countless excuses she had 
employed in the past, searching her mind for a new turn of 
phrase.  But what she said was, "Yeah, I'd like that.  Thank 
you."

Michaels stared.  "I--I don't know what to say to that, Dana.  I 
was all ready to try to convince you and now you've got me 
stumped."

Scully shifted her weight, a little edgy, skipping over his 
dalliance with humor.  "Actually, I, uhm..." she cleared her 
throat, "I'd like to bring someone, if you wouldn't mind."

Silence reigned.  "I gotta sit down."  Michaels reached out for 
the edge of the nearest table.

Scully closed her eyes and allowed a hint of a dry smile as she 
exhaled through her nose.  "I guess I deserve that," she said 
under her breath.

"Let me get this straight--Dana Scully is not only accepting my 
invitation to dinner with the family--"

"What time?"

"--but she is also bringing a *date*--"

"*What time*?"

"6:30."

"Can I bring anything?"

"I thought you were already bringin' --"

"Would you just go, please?"

"Hey, I was just--"

"Go."

"6:30?"

"We'll be there."

A faint strangling sound carried back from the hallway that 
sounded suspiciously like "*We!*".

Scully closed her eyes.


*****

(End Chapter 12b.  Continued in Chapter 13a...)

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