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 <bstrbabs@earthlink.net>
Copyright (c) 2003


Chapter 15c


Scully felt the ripple when they snapped at one another in the 
dawn hours of Wednesday morning.  The snippy remarks in 
themselves meant nothing.  The natural course of two people with 
tempers, too tired, and under too much pressure, to adequately 
feel their way through the tentative stages of a fledgling 
relationship.

*"I asked you to wake me up by 6:30.  I have to meet my partner 
by 9:00" "I thought you needed the rest.  You were awake so late 
last night, I didn't think you'd mind." "Well, surprise." -- "You 
left your keys in your coat pocket." "I did not, I gave them to 
you at the door." "The hell you did, I never had your keys." -- 
"It's the black one, the button on the far left.  God, do I have 
to tell you that every time?"*

But the snapping turned colder, generalities escalating into 
personal jabs.  She knew she was probably the first to push the 
sharp edges.

*"You're going into *work* today?" "Just to see a few patients." 
"Thirty-six hours, Daniel.  It's been thirty-six hours since you 
sustained a concussion, and the doctor told you one full week of 
minimal activity." "He was covering his ass.  You're a doctor, 
you know that.  Mild concussion, two days, subsiding of the 
symptoms..." "Fine.  Put yourself back in the hospital.  I have a 
meeting to go to." "Dana, I may not be as young as I used to be--
" "You're not young at all."*

And the personal jabs didn't take long to cut into the flesh.

"Excuse me if I'm concerned for your health, if I want you to 
behave like a responsible adult.  But, maybe that's too much to 
ask.  I'm sure your ex-wife found it so."

Scully regretted the words the moment they passed her lips.  But 
there was no taking them back.  And it felt too good to lash out 
at someone.  Anyone.  The adrenaline dulled the ache.

Daniel pulled up straighter, effectively distancing himself from 
her.  He slipped his hands into his pockets.  Scully picked up 
her cell phone and tucked it inside her suit coat.  She propped 
her briefcase near the door.  

"She very well may have," Daniel said slowly, weighing each word, 
keeping tight rein on his composure.  "But, frankly, I had always 
believed *you* thought better of me."

They had played these head games on one another once too often 
for her to slip on such an easy trap.  "Don't fuck with me.  
Don't make this about me.  This is about you.  And about you 
respecting the people you care about and not doing whatever you 
damn well please without giving a thought to how it affects their 
lives."

Daniel's eyes narrowed, his gaze penetrating her armored shell.  
There was a long beat before he spoke.  "Like cheating on my 
wife?"

Scully flinched.  Her stomach hurt.  But she wasn't playing.  She 
wouldn't surrender control.  "Like chain-smoking when your family 
has a history of high blood pressure.  Like altering your 
doctor's orders to suit your preferences while you bitch about 
how doctor's do that to you.  It's arrogant and self-centered and 
it's a pervasive philosophy with you.  We argued about it eleven 
years ago, and one year ago, and now."

Daniel hardened his jaw, signaling the depth of the nerve she had 
struck.  The familiar expression trigged a gut response of 
reciprocating anger in her. 

"Well, excuse me, Agent Scully," Daniel began slowly.  "I might 
respond more favorably to your tirade on responsibility and 
personal safety and how my life choices might affect my family, 
but I'm not the one who lead a serial killer into our living 
room."

Scully froze, blazing.

They locked gazes for a long moment, three feet of cold space 
sparkling between them.  Scully spoke.

"Fuck you.  And you know what?  It wasn't our living room.  It 
was mine."

She was out the door in a breath, slamming the hollow wood behind 
her.

*****

Daniel punched the wall so hard the plaster should have cracked, 
yet somehow it held.

And the single blaze of anger sapped him of all urge for battle.  
His breathing slowed.  He leaned his outstretched hands against 
the wall, head lowered, and let his pulse steadily quiet.

He needed to go after her.  But chances were, she was out of 
reach, by choice if not by distance.  He would have to wait.  
Ride through the tedium of his day with a knot in his stomach, 
waiting for the evening when he could see her, try to make things 
right between them.

Daniel pushed off the wall and stepped into the hallway.  At the 
far end, he pressed the button for the elevator, but instead of 
waiting, he moved to the picture window overlooking the street.

Dana's car was parked against the far curb, and she was just 
climbing inside.

He watched her slam the door and settle behind the wheel.  He 
expected her to pull the car away before the elevator even 
arrived at his floor.  But, Dana didn't move.  She sat, heels of 
her hands on the steering wheel, eyes closed.  He could see her 
chest rise and fall with her deep breaths even from this 
distance.  The last of his anger poured from his muscles as he 
watched her composure crumble and her hand raise to her face as 
she started to cry.

He stood for countless minutes at the hallway window, hearing the 
elevator come and go, forehead pressed against the glass as he 
watched her cry.  "Stubborn bitch," he whispered, but the thought 
came with nothing but love and pains of sympathy.  So close and a 
million miles of space between them.  Her pain tore at his 
stomach.  She'd been through hell in the last 48 hours, and he 
wanted nothing more than to hold her and keep her safe.  But he 
had no idea how to get to that place.  With Dana, it was never 
easy.  There were a million things they needed to say.  He was 
still reeling from all he had seen two nights ago.  The 
implications were settling and connecting in his mind.

But in the end, all that mattered was that Dana had been tortured 
and scared and hurt.  And she hadn't let him comfort her.  Not 
for that.  And until she did, the glass would remain between 
them.

*****

The cold, crisp air in the car soothed her heated cheeks.  She 
was shaking so deeply it hurt her chest to breathe.  Thirty-six 
hours of distance between her and the man with the knife and the 
smell of rotten apples in his hair and she could still feel him 
on her skin.

She felt sick.  She had managed to keep all of her small servings 
of food down in the hours since the attack.  This was a first for 
her in an experience like this.  She had always hated that 
weakness in her character, such overt loss of control of her own 
body in the face of such bone-icing fear.  Yet now she almost 
wanted to give in.  She didn't want to think she was becoming so 
jaded, that she could live through an act of violence like this, 
and emerge with little more than a flinch.

But the way she was hurting in this moment was taking away any 
concern for lack of feeling on her part.

Daniel had been released from the hospital the previous morning.  
Scully had picked him up and driven him home before she left to 
meet Michaels for yet another interrogation of Miranda Lockheart, 
this time with her court appointed attorney present.

The killer had been identified as Gabriel Morrison.  He had lived 
through the surgery, but remained in a coma.  They couldn't 
guarantee he would ever wake up.  If he did, he would be in no 
condition to hurt anyone else.

In other words, she had dealt with all the crises at hand.  The 
people who needed her were all functioning on their own again.  
And she could take a moment to feel.  To inventory her own 
injuries, inside and out, and let the weight of what she had 
suffered seep into her skin.  And she didn't want to and she was 
fighting it tooth and nail.  It was a necessary step in the 
healing process, the acknowledgement of what had been hurt.  She 
knew that from countless trials and experiences.  But she 
couldn't bring herself to let it happen this time.

Daniel held all of this knowledge in his eyes.  So, when he 
looked at her there was no escape.

Except to hurt him badly enough he would back away.

*Dammit*.  She closed her eyes and a soft sound of injury slipped 
from her lips as a fresh tear descended.

*****

He watched as her crying quieted.  She pulled her make-up bag 
from her glove compartment and flipped down the visor mirror.  
She fixed every tiny imperfection in her make-up that might 
betray the pain beneath the polish.  He knew it was for the 
professional world, knew it was a necessary step in being the 
Dana Scully she was, but it hurt him to watch her painting over 
the Dana within.

He was both hopeful and wounded when she opened the car door and 
walked back toward the apartment.

*****

He opened the door almost before she knocked.

She stood on the threshold, hands in her trench coat pockets, 
gaze on the floor.  She gave a rueful twitch of a smile, eyes 
never rising above his knees.  "I'm sorry.  That was..."  She 
tried for words for a moment, then closed her eyes and sighed 
heavily.

Daniel's hand touched her elbow.  "Come inside," he said simply.

She moved into the apartment, and Daniel pushed the door closed 
behind her.  She sat back on the arm of the easy chair, and Tasha 
drifted by and nosed at Scully's hand, picking up the tensions, 
concerned for her friend.  Dana gave her warm head a reassuring 
stroke and Tasha settled at her feet.

She folded her arms across her chest, cleared her throat.  "I was 
angry at you, but...not *that* angry."  She tilted her head away 
for a moment, weathering the memory.

Daniel nodded, standing in front of her, a cautious distance 
away, letting her speak or not as she wished.

"I, uh...," her throat tightened again, and she pushed back hard 
at her tears.  Her vision blurred just a shade.  "I'm used to 
being alone for this part."

"What part?"  His voice was soft and throaty.  The anger had 
dissipated and the tenderness hovered beneath the surface.

"The part where it catches up with me," she whispered.

After a long beat, Daniel lowered himself to kneel on the floor 
at her feet.  "You're not alone anymore.  You don't have to be, 
if you don't want to."

Scully regulated her breath cautiously, tears burning in her 
eyes, but not letting herself cry.  She kept her expression 
tightly controlled, her breath quivered.  "I'm not sure I know 
how to do that."  A mutinous tear trailed down her cheek, and met 
Daniel's fingers as he reached up to touch her face.

"You know how," he said, moving into her space.  "You know how."

The ache within her was breaking free and it was harder and 
harder not to cry.  "You didn't deserve that, I'm sorry."

Daniel shook his head.  He drew a finger down her nose and mouth.  
"Sssshhhhh..."

They were silent.

"You feel him in the shadows when you're alone in the apartment 
now," Daniel stated evenly.

Scully cringed.

"Let me go back to your apartment with you tonight."

She shook her head.  "I have to do it alone."

Daniel remained silent, hand resting on her knee.

Scully went on.  "But, I would like it, if you would come by 
later?  Sleep there?"

Daniel lifted her hand to his cheek, kissed her wrist.  "I'm 
there."

And finally, she met his gaze.  "I know.  You are."  Then, "Are 
you okay?  I mean, you've never...dealt with anything like this 
before.  I know we talked last night, but--"

"I'm okay.  Justly shaken.  But I'm processing.  The hard 
part...is you."

That caught her attention.  Her brow drew in, shoulders tensed.  
"What do you mean?"

Daniel pulled in a slow breath, studying her face with his 
probing gaze.  "You slashed a man's throat.  Shot him.  Didn't 
hesitate.  That was...well, I couldn't have pictured any of that 
before I saw it."

Dana moistened her lips, a little off keel.  "Do you think that 
was wrong?"

He was quick to shake his head.  "No.  No, Dana, that's not what 
I'm saying.  You saved our lives.  You did what had to be done.  
It's just...I didn't know...you *could*.  And it takes some time 
to let that mesh with what I *do* know of you."

"I told you what I do.  What I've done.  I didn't try to hide--"

"I know that," he said, squeezing her hand and bringing it from 
his cheek down tight to his stomach.  "I know that.  But there's 
a difference between knowing and *seeing*."

She sensed the layers of thought behind his words.  Started to 
feel for more.  "Where are you heading?" she asked.

Daniel's eyes flickered closed for a moment, then she could see 
him steeling himself to dive into something she might not want to 
hear.  She did the same.  "This isn't right for you, Dana.  This 
job."

She pulled back.  "Don't do that, Daniel.  This is not about--"

"But it is.  Dana, it's abundantly obvious that you are one of 
the best at doing what you do.  And I don't deny that you have 
helped countless people in your work here, and that is a kind of 
justification in itself.  But, Darling, whatever selfish 
motivations I may have been guilty of in our life, I have always 
wanted to see you happy.  And you can't tell me, that that is 
where this career path has brought you."

She pulled her hand away.  "My partner died a few months ago.  
You can't look at this phase of my life and judge the course of 
my career and ultimate fulfillment.  Don't tell me what's good 
for me.  Don't do that.  You don't have enough information.  I 
make those decisions for myself and nothing you think you know 
can surpass my own inherent right to live my life."

"That's not what I'm trying to do.  Tell me you were happy last 
spring when your partner was alive.  That you were content with 
your life.  Look at me and tell me that."

Scully held his gaze, breathing deeply.  "I wouldn't change my 
choices," she said deliberately.

Daniel accepted that.  "Okay.  Maybe this was right for you as 
far as you have come.  Our mutual paths have brought us here.  
And I can't deny that.  I wouldn't trade that.  But tell me this, 
Dana...  Do you want a child?"

She sucked in a breath, drew back, looked away.

"Do you?"

She gazed out the patio doors, to the greenery beyond.  Escape.  
"You know the answer to that."

"Say it to me.  I need to hear it once.  Just once."

Her face felt hot.  The muscles around her eyes ached from the 
relentless tension.  The room was too quiet.  "I want a child," 
she whispered.

Daniel moved close.  He sat on the floor at her feet.  He rested 
his hand on her thigh.  The warmth in his touch warmed her blood.  
"I never told you the moment I fell in love with you."

Scully turned, caught off guard, and met his eyes, utterly open.

"You were helping me with a research project.  We had been in the 
lab for hours.  You were tired, I knew that.  You must have had a 
million things to do, and yet you stayed without a word, to help 
me.  At the time, I thought you just respected my work.  That you 
didn't want to disappoint your professor.  That you valued the 
experience of lab time with me, one on one."

"I did," she said, with a trace of a smile.

"When I finally insisted you go home--and you finally listened--
you crossed the room to where you'd left your things.  You pulled 
the rubber band out of your hair and let it fall around your 
shoulders.  You took off your glasses and dropped them into your 
coat pocket.  You gathered your things.  We had a radio playing 
in the corner.  And I saw you glance toward the radio when some 
song came on.  To this day I can't remember what it was.  But I 
could see in your expression that it was something you loved.  
And you stalled for just a few moments.  You hung in the room, 
rearranging the files in your bag, fussing with your coat, your 
gloves.  But it was to hear some part of the song you were 
waiting for.  Something you loved.  And I watched you there by 
the door.  This brilliant doctor-to-be.  Such a serious mind.  
Such a controlled manner and approach to life.  And when the song 
got to the line you were waiting for--you stopped fussing and 
closed your eyes, and just listened.  You didn't think I was 
watching.  But I was.  And then you turned to me, and said 
goodnight.  Very proper.  Very business-like.  And walked away.  
And when you left the room, a part of me floated out behind you.  
And I knew I loved you."

Scully could hardly breathe.  "I don't remember the song 
anymore," she said softly, her thoughts a million miles beyond 
her words.

Daniel gave a soft smile.  "I only remember you.  Dana Scully.  
No matter how beautiful and sleek and perfect I find the face you 
present to the world; this woman before me in this moment, this 
woman who lives and loves and hurts and cries and fights and 
survives.  This is the woman I love.  The woman I have followed 
for ten years.  Lived for.  The one I fell in love with on that 
quiet evening in a cold laboratory.  So very long ago.  Don't 
*ever*...hide that woman from me."

Scully closed her eyes and ran her fingers through Daniel's hair, 
then dropped her hand back into her lap.

"If you want a child," Daniel said slowly, "you can't continue to 
do what you do.  What if there had been an infant in your arms 
two nights ago?"

The world was vibrating around her.  Morning sun flickered 
through the trees and dappled the dining room carpet.  Footsteps 
hurried past in the hallway outside.  Her life shimmered around 
her.  Choices, soft breaths, people, love, spirits lost.

Daniel was holding her tight with his relentless gaze.  She 
turned to offer him solid and lasting eye contact.

Daniel lifted his hand in the air and held up his fingertips to 
her.  Her lungs contracted as understanding took her.  *A gesture 
of asking...and of answering.*  A fourth significant moment in 
their life.

There was far more in this question than the words spoken aloud.  
They could feel it in the air around them, quivering like 
unharnassed electricity.

Every breath stretched to an hour.  A promise.  A choice.  A 
life.  A future.

Scully lifted her hand and brought her fingers to meet with 
Daniel's, imagined she felt the physical spark of connection when 
they touched.  Another moment and their hands had locked together 
and she sank to the floor and into his arms.

A pact forged on this sunny morning, when the toast had burned 
and she was late for work.

Scully closed her eyes and savored Daniel's breath on the side of 
her neck.

*Mulder.  Did you know I loved you?*

*****

(End Chapter 15c.  End Book II.  Continued in Book III, Chapter 
16a.)

Feedback always treasured - bstrbabs@earthlink.net