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...

A special nod to my husband for inspiration in the last part of the chapter...;)


"Water's Edge"
by
Elizabeth Rowandale (bstrbabs@earthlink.net)


Chapter 26b:



"There is no one else that I could say this to
There is nothing better than to talk to you."
                --Play, "Us Against the World"




She was so lost in case facts, the rap on the door startled her 
back to reality like an alarm clock intruding on a dream.  Tasha 
jumped up from the hearth rug and barked.  Christopher was 
pulling on Scully's hair and Gannon was absorbed in the paperwork 
decorating her sofa.  A familiar voice rang through the door.  
"Hey, Scully, it's me!"  Tasha stopped barking and wagged her 
tail expectantly.

Scully sucked in a deep breath and reached out to gather 
Christopher and extract the two of them from the files, but 
Gannon waved her back.  "I got it," he said, lips twisting in a 
sideways grin.

She nodded and sat back.

Michaels opened the door, and Scully watched from a distance as 
her new life merged with her old one.

"Agent Mulder.  Good to see you again," Michaels said, shaking 
Mulder's hand as Mulder razzled Tasha's head.  Mulder's smile was 
warm.  He was dressed in his Saturday gear, jeans and a tee shirt 
and his leather jacket and hiking boots.  And her body sparked to 
life at the mere sight of his hips beneath the tight denim and 
flashes of his skin and scent and touch washed over her like 
water.  *She and Mulder had made love last night...*

Her skin went hot when his eyes found hers.  "Still hard at work 
on the Maley case?" Mulder asked Gannon, but his focus was 
already hard on her.

"Can't miss a beat on this one," Michaels said.  The deepness in 
his tone momentarily drew a glance from Mulder, and the quick 
exchange between the two men spoke louder than words.  Resentment 
prickled Scully at the notion of a gang of male protectors.  But 
on some level it felt good beneath her skin.  Like her brothers 
looking out for her again.

Mulder crossed to the back of the couch, gaze tight with hers, a 
gentle smile hovering between them.  "Hey," he said on a soft 
breath, and he drew the backs of his fingers ever so gently down 
her cheek.  The intimacy tightened her throat.  She felt so 
beautiful.  So warm.  He was letting her take the lead, letting 
her pick the boundaries between her personal and professional 
lives, but she could feel the bridled desire in him.  He wanted 
to kiss her.  Surround her.

She wanted the same.

She caught his hand.  "Hey," she whispered back.  And in the edge 
of her vision, she could see Gannon hanging back near the door, 
see him caught between tact and curiosity.  But she couldn't 
break eye contact with Mulder.  The moment felt too good.

It was Mulder who moved first, leaning down and scooping 
Christopher into his arms.  "Hey, Slugger!" he said with a smile, 
face close to her son's.  "What do you say we hang out, read the 
box scores, and let your Mom finish up a bit."

Scully trailed her fingers down Mulder's jacket as he walked away 
with her son and tried to pull herself back to professional mode.  
She turned to face Gannon, as he lowered himself back to his seat 
on the couch.  He glanced at his watch.  "Oh, hell, we've been at 
this half our lives, haven't we?"

She smiled wearily.  "Feels that way, doesn't it?"

"You had somewhere to go, didn't you, before--"

But she shook her head, cutting him off.  "No, that's fine.  I 
just...I was going to run an errand earlier, but...it can wait."  
She felt Mulder listening from the dining room, didn't turn.

Michaels glanced over her shoulder, but let it go.

"Well, I say we pack it in for the weekend."

As Scully and Michaels gathered the files into boxes, Mulder 
wrapped Christopher in an extra blanket and disappeared onto the 
balcony, Tasha on his heels, watching over her baby.

Scully walked Gannon to the door, stiff from her time on the 
couch and uncertain in her heels.  Gannon half-opened the door, 
and Scully folded her arms across her chest against the cool 
breeze from the hallway.  He turned to her, one hand on the 
doorknob and reached out and touched her necklace, fingering the 
cluster of rings and cross.  She tensed and he didn't speak, but 
the understanding was clear.  She lowered her gaze.

"How ya doin'?" he asked, keeping his tone casual, matching his 
jeans and cowboy boots; treading the line carefully.  And she 
couldn't help but warm to his sincerity.

"I'm fine," she said softly, almost surprised by the strength in 
her own voice.

To which Gannon actually winked and gave her a thumbs-up and she 
couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm off to meet my kids and my gal at the ice park!"

Scully leaned around the door and called after his retreating 
figure.  "Gannon?"

He turned.  "Yeah?"

She kept a hand on the door, held onto his questioning gaze for a 
beat.  Then, "Thanks."

He shrugged.  "For what?"

She let her eyes slip half closed.  "Friendship."

The fine lines around Gannon's eyes softened.  "You get what you 
put out," he said softly.  And his footsteps echoed in his wake 
as he vanished down the hall.


*****


Scully came up from behind without a word and swung around Mulder 
to catch his mouth with hers.  And for a moment all he could feel 
was the wind against her warmth and Christopher's small hand on 
his ear and Dana Scully Waterston's tongue in his mouth.  She 
wrapped her arms around him, Christopher sheltered between them, 
and pulled at his mouth like water in a desert.

Christopher squealed, and Scully caught his hand, stroked his 
face, without ever opening her eyes or breaking their kiss.  
Mulder was continually amazed by her ease with her son.  He had 
had no idea the extent of the mothering instincts within her.  
She had somehow blended the independent career driven woman he 
had known with a Soccer Mom without losing a sliver of her grace 
and elegance.  She was Scully.

At last she softened their kiss and broke away with a light 
caress of his lower lip.  He regretted the tight jeans.

Scully's smile was like a reflection of the sunlight; the only 
smile he had trusted for as long as he could remember.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hey, Scully.  What's up?"

She didn't speak.

"So...I can assume you don't hate yourself this morning?  Or me."

She lowered her gaze to his mouth, smile still lingering on her 
lips, and said in her throaty voice, "No."

"No, I shouldn't assume, or no..."

"Shut up, Mulder."

"Such language in front of delicate ears."  He cupped his hand to 
the side of Christopher's head.

She was beautiful today.  Fitted ivory button-down sweater and 
black slacks, hair down free and wavy, soft gold jewelry and a 
relaxed grace he had never seen in her more guarded years on the 
X-Files.  He wondered if she had been this woman before the 
darkness had come into their lives.  Or if this was someone 
wholly new.  It didn't matter.  He wanted more.

"Isn't it beautiful today?" she asked, glancing out over the 
brightness of the crisp autumn afternoon.

"It's great.  Kite-flying weather," he said, surprised he 
remembered such things.  But Scully kept that part of him safe.  
Sandlots and lemonade and grasshoppers in butter tubs poked full 
of holes.  Once upon a time, she had let him teach her to hit a 
baseball.

Christopher would need to be taught.

"Did you need to go somewhere?" Mulder asked.

Scully squinted up at him.  "Go somewhere?  No.  Just to take 
Tasha for a walk.  I was thinking we could order in tonight, if 
that's okay with you?"

He nodded.  "Sounds great.  I just...I thought I heard Agent 
Michaels say you had an errand to run..."

She cleared her throat, and for a moment her eyes were too far 
away.  "Oh--no," she said simply.  "It's fine, I can do it 
later."

The slight hurt.  Yet...it was not so far from who they had once 
been.  Not everything could change overnight.

Christopher squealed and slapped at his chest.  "Whoa there, 
Slugger.  You have something in mind?"

"Playtime," Scully said with an affectionate smile.


*****


Christopher kicked his feet in his bouncy seat, entranced by a 
wide array of rattles and mirrors and colorful doo-hickeys that 
Mulder seemed to be struggling to identify.  Scully stood back 
and watched, letting the sensations run through her deep and 
slow.

Mulder at last pushed to his feet and Christopher began batting 
at his toy bar.

"Michaels calls you 'Dana'?" Mulder said, catching her completely 
off guard.

"Umm...yeah, I asked him to.  A long time ago.  Why?"

He was standing at the railing now, avoiding consistent eye 
contact.  She hung back.

"No, no reason, really, I just...Scully, did you want me to call 
you 'Dana'?"

He turned to search her face.  She narrowed her eyes, adopting 
the contemplative, academic manor in which she had always felt 
safe.  "Well...you have, actually."

He nodded.  "A few times, I believe.  Long ago."

"Then you stopped."

"Yeah."

She held onto his gaze, such depth.

"But...did you want me to...*more*?"  His voice had an edge of 
the childlike.

She turned away for several beats, listening to the wind chimes 
in the air and the sound of the water fountain below.  Her voice 
felt like part of the wind when she said, "No.  I mean...it's 
fine, if you want to, I like my name, but...  I guess...a long 
time ago I *did*....want you to.  A time when I felt like when 
you called me Dana...you saw something more than when you called 
me Scully.  But then somewhere along the way, the person you saw 
all the time...the person I liked that you saw...became 
'Scully'."  She swallowed hard, and she felt his eyes on her 
throat.  "So now...," she finished, "'Scully' is good."

He watched her in silence for a long moment, then his mouth 
curled into a grin.  "But it's not your name."

She let his smile spread to her eyes.  "I know."

"What did Daniel call you?"

"'Darling.'"

"Ouch."

Scully closed her eyes, but there was only warmth between them.

Then Mulder turned away with a sound of frustration, cringing, 
wrestling with something invisible.  He gripped the hand rail and 
looked out over the garden.

"What?" she asked, brow furrowing, arms folded across her chest.

He shrugged.  "I don't know, Scully.  I mean...we've never...  
Like you said, we lived in such a limited structure before.  We 
never tried to mesh our lives outside the Bureau."

"Mulder, I've packed your underwear."

"It's not the same."

"Are you sure?"

But he wasn't biting at her offer to lighten the tone.  There was 
something he needed her to see.

"And now, you--you've had this *life*.  That I had no part of.  
And maybe could never fit in.  Or give you.  You married a 
*doctor*.  A successful doctor with an apartment like this--" he 
gestured behind them, "--who put a rock on your hand like that 
one, and sapphires on your ears, and came home for dinner every 
night and drove you to dinner downtown in a Lexus.  I know that 
lifestyle, Scully, I used to be the kid in that scenario.  But 
now, I'm--I'm a guy who barely has a government job with only 
marginal potential to return to the field he was trained for, 
lives in a pre-furnished apartment and drives a car that still 
smells suspiciously like Langly even though it was supposed to 
have been for Byers.  I can't...give you that other life..."

"Mulder...  Are you feeling...inadequate?" she asked, the 
faintest trace of a teasing smile on her lips.  And this time she 
saw the flicker at the corner of his eyes, that little connection 
that had always been there between them.  He couldn't resist 
their shared humor any more than she.  Even when it didn't fix 
anything.

"You could say my manhood is somewhat at stake, here, yes."

She nodded quietly, stepping up closer beside him and gazing out 
over the garden.  She cleared her throat.  "So...I suppose this 
would be a bad time to tell you there's a blue Jag in the parking 
garage."

Mulder brought his hand to his chest in feigned suffering.  "Oh, 
Good God, Scully..."

She couldn't keep from laughing.  But when the humor of the 
moment faded she let her voice sink into the seriousness beneath.  
"Mulder.  I don't need you to *give* me a life.  I have one.  A 
pretty good one.  With a son.  A home.  And you--alive.  If you 
hadn't guessed...Daniel was rather well insured.  I'm okay.  
Comfortable.  But if you also hadn't noticed...that isn't exactly 
my priority, with the exception of the added security it gives me 
in planning Christopher's future.  If I had cared about attaining 
this lifestyle above my other priorities, I would never have left 
medicine for a government job.  And I might add...that you would 
not be in your present circumstances, if you had not given up the 
life *you* made...to save mine."

Mulder stared down at his hands on the railing.  She recognized 
the intensity of his posture, the power in his arms, the depth of 
emotion carried in the cords of his neck.  She had missed that 
passion.  That life.  He turned and stared her down, hard.  
"You're happy with me?"  It took her breath away to see the tears 
in his eyes.

Scully moved closer, never blinking, never flinching.  "Mulder.  
I wanted to stay in the X-Files and not take my shot in VCU.  I 
wanted to be at 66 Exeter Street and not on Tom Colton's fucking 
task force.  I wanted to be in a haunted house on Christmas Eve.  
I wanted to be in a freezing cold rental car with you instead of 
home with my family when I thought I was dying.  I was 
*always*...happy with you."

Mulder scooped her into a fierce embrace, and she buried her face 
in his jacket, smelling a hundred cold nights and crime scenes 
and burned files and the single source of warmth and security in 
her life.  His arms held firm across her back.

A sudden cacophony filled the courtyard as a massive flock of 
robins fluttered into the sheltered trees, covering the greenery 
and statuary and even the railing of their balcony.  Scully 
lifted her head in startled wonder.  "Oh, my God.  Mulder, look 
how many there are.  They go on forever."

"That *is* impressive.  And a little alarming."

"Such a huge flock.  I can't believe we're so far through the 
year already."  His arms loosely cradled her.

"Tell me about it," he breathed.  She turned and looked into his 
eyes for a long moment.

"I never got you anything to drink," she said, her eyes speaking 
different words.  "You must be thirsty by now.  I need something, 
too.  Christopher needs a snack and I need to replenish."

Mulder nodded.  "I've got it," he said gently, drawing a finger 
down her jaw line.

Scully nodded as he let her go.  She folded her arms across her 
chest to ward off the chill that came with the loss of his 
warmth.  Mulder shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around 
her shoulders before he vanished inside the apartment.

A moment later he was returning with two tall iced teas, placing 
them carefully on the small glass table.

"You're *sure* you don't want any sugar?" he asked, expression 
once again dubious.

"Positive," she said with a glance over her shoulder.  Then she 
turned back toward the garden, and the images in front of her 
blurred like watercolors.  "Mmm..."  She reached out and grasped 
the railing, closing her eyes against the haze.  The balcony 
moved like a ship's deck beneath her feet.  "Whoa..."

Mulder's hand hit her back.  "Scully?  You okay?"

She couldn't quite speak and keep her feet beneath her.  
"Mmmm..."  Couldn't open her eyes.

"What's wrong?  Are you dizzy?"

She swallowed against a wave of nausea.  "Yeah..."  She gripped 
the railing until her fingers hurt.

Mulder's arm wrapped tight around her waist, grounding her.  
"Okay, it's okay.  It's the vaccine, Scully.  You're just getting 
some side effects.  It's not uncommon.  You should be okay in a 
minute.  You can't, whoa--"

Her knees let go, and Mulder caught her weight with an arm 
beneath her elbows and another around her ribs.

"Okay, it's all right.  Easy, Scully.  Let's get you in the 
chair."

His words seemed far away, but she was still tracking the thread 
of events.  Her feet felt weighted down, but she managed the few 
steps to the love seat and sank to its edge.  Mulder knelt before 
her, supporting her as she leaned down to get her head between 
her knees.  He pulled her hair back from her face, holding it at 
the base of her neck.  "It's okay," he whispered.  "I've got 
you."

After a moment, she rose just enough to prop her elbows on her 
knees, relishing the brisk wind on her cheeks, heart fluttering 
in her chest.  "This isn't going to happen to Christopher, 
right?" she said, voice shaking.  "Tell me it's not going to 
happen to Christopher, he isn't going to--"

"You know it's not," Mulder said strongly, gripping her wrists 
and getting in her face.  "Scully, look at me.  Look at me."  She 
tried to keep her eyes open, squinted to bring his features into 
focus.  "The side effects are caused by the interaction between 
the vaccine and the changes that chip is constantly making in 
your body.  Christopher doesn't have a chip.  He doesn't have the 
chip.  So there's nothing to cause a conflict.  The traces of the 
vaccine just glide right through him."

"And he can't get any of what the chip's producing through me?"  
The floor was still moving.  Her pulse was fluttering.

"No.  You know that.  You read the file.  It's not something the 
chip's producing, it's the changes it's forcing in the normal 
processes of your own body.  YOUR body.  It doesn't pass to 
Christopher.  He's okay.  YOU'RE okay.  Just take it easy and 
breathe for a minute.  Okay?"

She nodded, closed her eyes and forced a deep breath through her 
nose.  The air made her light-headed and clearer at the same 
time.  Mulder stayed close, arms resting on her thighs.  His 
jacket was still around her shoulders.  They remained together in 
silence, his body strengthening hers with its nearness.

"You okay?"

She swallowed again.  "Better."

"Just rest."

She nodded, not wanting to move her head too much.

More breathing.

"You gonna puke on me?"

"I'll let you know."

He shrugged.  "Wouldn't be the first time, right?"

Her breath came out in a laugh despite her best efforts to the 
contrary.


*****


The world held still again.  Her blood pulsed through her veins.  
Her thoughts were clear.

She nursed Christopher, and he dozed off for his afternoon nap.  
The sun was sinking early as winter stretched his ice-cloaked 
branches into autumn's terrain.

Christopher slept in his bouncy seat, resting just inside the 
sliding doors, sheltered from the biting wind as the shadows grew 
longer.  Mulder and Scully stretched out on the love seat beneath 
the worn afghan, watched the reflections of late afternoon light 
on the trees.

Scully weathered a dull headache in the aftermath.

Mulder stroked her hair.  "How you feeling?" he whispered, breath 
warm on her cheek.

"I'm fine.  Just tired."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

They fell silent.  His warmth against her back made her want to 
close her eyes and sink into his gentle cocoon.

Mulder's hand drew gentle circles on her stomach beneath the 
afghan, and the intimacy of the touch sent shivers down her 
spine.

She ran her hands over his arms, traced the definition of his 
shoulders, forearms.  She touched his hips behind her, his 
thighs.  It didn't take long for the touches to deepen in nature.  
Clothes loosened and slipped out of place.  But they were gentle, 
reverent.  The wonder of touch between them was still something 
to be savored.

"Tell me, Scully."

"Tell you, what?" she whispered.

"Tell me where you like to be touched."

"I think you had a pretty good handle on that last night."

Mulder smiled against her ear, but he pulled the mood back to 
something more serious.  "No, I mean...not like that."

She shifted in his arms, and held his eyes with hers until she 
understood.  She reached for his hand and gently guided his palm 
to the side of her hip.  She moved him down her form, smoothing 
over the walking muscles in her buttocks, down the back of her 
thigh.  The sensation nearly melted her.  Mulder's lips curled 
into a smile, and he repeated the motion.  She closed her eyes.  
Then after a moment, she took his hand again, and guided him to 
the middle of her back, to the sheet of muscles just beside her 
spine.  There was something here for her.  A kind of intimate 
vulnerability.  No matter how much she stretched, exercised, 
bathed, relaxed, there was a pocket of tension there that had not 
been there when she was young.  Like a storehouse for the 
inescapable remnants of pain and need in her past.  She whispered 
simply, "It hurts a lot."  Yet somehow, he seemed to understand.  
Words had always been a formality between them.

He caressed her back, calmed her.

She started kissing him.

"Are you still scared?" Mulder whispered.

"Yes."

"Me, too."

"I can't... "

"You won't."

Kisses turned to more.  Mulder worked the zipper of her slacks 
and eased his hand inside her clothes.  Scully sighed deeply, 
moisture creeping toward her thighs in anticipation of his touch.  
She closed her eyes and gave conscious thought over to pure 
sensation; the cool wind on her face, the rough wool of the 
afghan, the warmth of Mulder's skin on hers.  She kept the two of 
them sheltered from neighbors' view, kept her voice quiet.

Every touch of Mulder's hands sent ripples of sensation over her 
skin.  Her nipples hardened and Mulder pressed his arm to her 
breasts, cupped one side and began a gentle, kneading massage in 
time with the circles of his lower hand.  She knew they should 
move to the couch inside, they should move somewhere more 
comfortable, more discreet, they should move...they should...*Oh, 
God*...

Mulder's beautiful hands touched her like artists' hands on clay.  
She had survived on the fleeting touches of those hands for so 
long.  Their healing powers, their kindness, their silent 
conveyances of love.  Now, to have such unlimited contact was 
almost overwhelming.

Her nails hooked into the wicker arm rest as her body raced with 
escalating pleasure.  Mulder kissed her neck and she turned into 
the warmth like a cat.  She had lost all power of language.  The 
need curled in the pit of her stomach.  Moved lower.  When her 
climax hit, Mulder locked her body against his with an arm across 
her stomach and she felt the pulses of his cock against her ass 
in time with the rushes of ecstasy as her blood turned to 
flowers.  She let herself ride the waves.

She was breathless in his arms.  He held her until the world 
beyond him returned.  He kissed her neck and she gripped her own 
hair.  He cupped her hand, kissed the tops of her breasts.  His 
hand slipped from the warmth of her panties and drew a line of 
moisture up her belly.

"You..." she managed.

But Mulder just kissed her ear.  "I'm staying the night," he 
whispered.  "There's time."


*****

End Chapter 26b. (Continued in 27a...)
My Mailbox Is Always Happiest When Fed -- bstrbabs@earthlink.net