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...

WATER'S EDGE
by
Elizabeth Rowandale (aka Elizabeth Boyd-Tran) <bstrbabs@earthlink.net>
Copyright (c) 2001
 

CHAPTER 7b



Watching Dana Scully was a skill at which Daniel Waterston 
was infinitely practised.  The first months of their 
relationship had been nothing *but* watching.  A wealth of 
images remained burned into his brain from those early 
days.  The way her hair slipped across her cheek as she 
bent over her notepad in the lecture hall.  The distant 
expression when she had ceased to listen to the class 
discussion and turned her focus to the trees outside the 
window--or to something behind her eyes.  The efficiency of 
her hands as she gathered her hair into a rubberband in 
preparation for a lab session, wearing so little of the 
vanity of her peers, and twice the beauty.

One image stood out above the rest.

In her junior year of high school, Maggie Waterston's 
behavior had taken a swing for the worse.  Despite his and 
Barbara's efforts at maintaining a unified front, Maggie 
had felt the growing rift between her parents.  The tension 
had run through the house on Atlantic Drive like an 
electric current.  Late one Friday night, Barbara had tried 
to phone Maggie at the friend's house where she had claimed 
to be spending the night.  The friend had claimed the same 
scenario to her parents, but in reverse.  It was glaringly 
obvious the girls had made a break for the dance club 
downtown Maggie had been talking about since it opened.  To 
this day Daniel didn't know where she had gotten the fake 
ID, or how she had gotten the money to pay for it.  But he 
clearly recalled the drive downtown at near midnight.  
Walking into the club, feeling highly out of place, still 
dressed in his work clothes, having to pay a cover charge 
just to get in the door and endure the critical look from 
the ragged twenty-something manning the entrance.  He had 
found Maggie and her friend by the bar, laughing and 
drinking and shouting over the music to two men at least 
ten years their senior.

He had grabbed their arms without a word, and turned them 
toward the door before they could even land their drink 
glasses solidly back on the bar.  He had been five steps 
from the exit before he saw her.

A single clear image in the blur of bodies and sweat and 
noise and flickering lights.  A blaze of soft red hair, a 
dry smile aimed toward a faceless young man at the bar.  
Dana's make-up had been dark and seductive that night, a 
far cry from the exposed freckles and gold-rimmed glasses 
of her classroom hours.  Her hair had fallen free and thick 
and waving.  Her slender body had no longer been clothed in 
functional jeans and heavy university sweatshirts, but 
hugged tightly by a draping black dress that stopped at 
mid-thigh.  She had carried herself with a confidence and 
coolness that betrayed the maturity behind her pale eyes.  
The blue lights had flickered across her creamy skin, and 
as he had forced himself to take a step toward the door 
before Maggie noticed why he had stopped, the darkened lids 
of Dana's eyes had risen in his direction.  And for a 
single spine-tingling moment, their gazes had locked across 
the swarming room.  The thrill had rushed through his limbs 
as though she had touched him.  He was ashamed to this day 
of the images that had passed through his mind.

She had still been his student.

But whatever images lingered in his latent thoughts from 
those early years, the reality of his life had moved 
forward without her.  A kind of question had been answered 
for him last spring.  And he had attempted to restructure 
his life without Dana Scully in the picture.

Until he had picked up the phone and heard her voice last 
night--and the guise had fallen away and the truth of his 
world had exploded into full color once again.

*Funny, how just when you think you have your act together 
and all the gears running smoothly, life just has to run up 
and bite you in the ass.*

So he was watching again.

He wasn't ready to jump in with both feet.  He was standing 
back and studying her as she presented herself before him.  
Searching for clues, puzzling through the infinite mystery 
of her psyche, seeking out the truth behind her sudden 
reappearance.  Or at least that was what he kept telling 
himself; pretending he hadn't melted under her gaze the 
moment she stepped through his door, pretending he wouldn't 
come to her anywhere in the world at the slightest sound of 
her voice.

Pretending there had ever been a moment in his life, when 
he had not loved her.

*My Dana...*

Daniel shook his head, fingered the keychain in his hand, 
as he pulled himself from his inner reverie, back to the 
parking garage around him and the door of the Infiniti in 
front of him.  Now that his lunch with Dana had been moved 
to a dinner, he had chosen to spend a few hours at the 
office, catching up on paperwork, scanning through the 
backlog of medical journals piled behind his desk.  
Trusting, of course, that his brain managed to focus more 
firmly on those tasks than it had on the rote mechanics of 
commuting.

He opened the door and dropped into the driver's seat, 
slipping the key into the ignition.  The parking garage of 
his apartment building was quiet today.  Rare for a 
Saturday.  Maybe the nicer weather had gotten everyone up 
and moving early.

*"Eleven years ago, Daniel, you betrayed me beyond belief.  
I had every right to leave."*

Her words were still ringing in his ears.  One small 
reference had conveyed a flood of still raw emotion from 
her.  Her viewpoint was well practised, solidly stated.  It 
seemed she, too, had given a good deal of time over this 
past decade to running through the crashing point in her 
mind.  Daniel had been over every second, every argument, 
every detail, like an airplane pilot checking each gauge 
and instrument, desperate to find the precise gear that had 
failed him and lost him his precious cargo.

Daniel had known for a long time that he had messed up.  
But maybe hearing the hurt that remained in her carefully 
controlled voice these eleven years later, was the first 
thing to make him realize just how badly he had messed up.  
Dana's mistake had been denying him the right to apologize.  
Their mutual arrogance had always been a failing point.  
Neither ever wanted to be the first to give.  Neither could 
ever fathom being wrong.

Perhaps...just perhaps...they had both mellowed with age.  
Time and experience were the ultimate teachers.  And 
maybe...just maybe...it would be enough.

He turned the key in the ignition and backed out of his 
parking space.

*"Don't say I scare you."*

He laughed dryly at his own falsely confident words.  
*Pretty Lady...you scare the hell out of me.*


*****


The paperwork was taking forever.  Scully was seated behind 
a desk that, according to the nameplate, belonged to a SGT 
Farwell, though she had yet to meet such a person.  She had 
been handed a multitude of papers to read through and sign 
off on over the last hour, and they were all starting to 
blend together.  The past fifteen minutes had been 
relatively silent while Det. McCall argued with the ER 
nurse on the phone in the far corner, and Scully had begun 
to tune out the noise around her and turn inward.

She really didn't like this station house.  Something about 
it had been grating at her nerves from the moment she 
stepped inside, and the answer was finally seeping into her 
consciousness, unbidden.

*It feels like San Diego.  The layout of the station house 
there.  The color of the mini-blinds.  Even something about 
the smell...*

Scully pushed the rolling chair a few feet back from the 
desk, rocked her shoes back on the heels, pushed her hair 
behind her ears, shifted her shoulder.  Anything for 
distraction, focus.

The tile beneath her was scuffed and chipped.  Not up to 
par with the rest of the polished interior.

*"Mommy said no more tests."*

Scully stood up and crossed to the water cooler.  She was 
several sips into her cup, when Michaels appeared at her 
side.

"And we thought the Bureau buried us in paperwork," he 
said, as he leaned down to fill his own cup with fresh 
water.

"Guess there's always someone who has it worse, huh?"

Gannon threw her a wry smile and pushed back his unruly 
hair.  He blended in perfectly in this place.  His rugged 
Irish good looks had always said "cop" sooner than "Fed".  
Black curls above muted freckles.  Strong frame, determined 
gate.

Scully pointed her chin toward McCall where he was still on 
the phone with the ER nurse.  "Sound like there's any shot 
at talking to the suspect today?"

Gannon shook his head.  "I don't have it straight yet, but 
it sounds to me like she's refused to say a word to anyone 
since she woke up.  They're probably calling for a psyche 
eval, blah, blah, blah.  Doubt we'll get in there anytime 
soon.  They're working on an ID, though."

"From the looks of her, they may have to go back a ways."

Scully took another sip of her water.  She watched McCall 
slam down the phone, his cheeks pink.  He turned on his 
heel, walked right past the water cooler, avoiding eye 
contact with either her or Michaels, and hurried back 
toward his boss's office.

Ten paces from the water cooler to the Lieutenant's door.  
*"'Scully-FBI', what can I do for you at this ungodly 
hour?"*
 
"You okay, Dana?"

Scully looked up to find Gannon watching her with a slight 
frown.  He'd gotten damn good at picking up on her moods.  
She felt a tinge of guilt for so rarely rewarding his 
insight with an admission.  "Yeah, I'm fine."

The frown remained.  "You sure?  You didn't get beat up 
worse than you're letting on, did you?  Your ribs okay?"

She nodded.  "They're fine.  I'm fine.  Honestly.  Just 
ready to go home."

He grunted and finally looked away.  "I hear ya there."


*****


Dana Scully's evening wardrobe needed serious help.

Burying herself so deeply in work had left Scully little 
free time for browsing the malls, and her closet was 
suffering.  Even her work suits were beginning to show 
their age and her shoes were on their last legs.  She 
should set up a shopping date with her mother for sometime 
soon.  They had spent precious little time together in the 
past few months.  On some level, Scully realized she had 
been avoiding her mother.  It was easier these days to be 
with people who didn't really understand what she was going 
through.  But one knowing glance from her mother, and the 
mask of complacency was a challenge to maintain.

Further avoidance was unfair to Maggie.  And now...maybe 
Dana was ready to open up a bit more.  Or at least handle 
the evasions with less tearing of open wounds.

Her closet was certainly implying it was time to try.

After much debating, Dana settled upon a reasonably 
presentable basic black from the far corner of her 
wardrobe.  After the 45 minute shower it had taken to 
remove the last of the gasoline, followed by the ritual 
disposal of her irredeemable suit, trench coat, and shoes, 
Scully was hard pressed for preparation time, and she was 
still fastening her earrings and switching the essentials 
from her briefcase to her purse when the doorbell rang.

Scully took a long moment, hand on the door knob, weight 
resting on her open hand against the door.  *Breathe.  One, 
two, three...*  Now, open.

Daniel greeted her with a warm kiss on the cheek and a wave 
of expensive (and familiar) cologne.  Scully was surprised 
by how eagerly her body soaked up his nearness.  The 
comfort and affection after her long day was like much 
needed food or water.  She had forgotten what it was like 
to come home to someone...to have someone to tell about her 
day.  For all of their closeness, Mulder had never given 
her that.  Maybe that had been partly her fault.  Maybe he 
had thought she wanted him at arm's length, wanted her 
private time and her space.  And sometimes that had been 
true.  But sometimes...sometimes...no...

"You look beautiful," Daniel said sincerely.

Dana responded with a quick smile.  "Not too shabby 
yourself," she said, taking in the elegant grey slacks, the 
rich yarn of the burgundy sweater, the polished leather of 
his shoes.

Daniel reached out and brushed the pad of his thumb across 
her cheek.  "This from this morning?" he asked, concern 
darkening his gaze.

She shrugged it off.  "Just a scratch.  It's nothing.  
Hazard of the job."  Then, drawing the subject away, "Come 
on, come in.  I'm almost ready."  Daniel stepped past her 
as she closed the door.

Scully returned to the dining room table, busying herself 
with her purse and grabbing her cell phone and keys, while 
Daniel took in her apartment.

"Nice place on a G-woman's salary," he said, turning to 
face her.

"I like it.  I moved in about six years ago.  It suits me, 
my lifestyle."

"Not home much?"

She wasn't sure how to take that.  After half a beat, she 
opted to play it straight, give him the benefit of the 
doubt.  She shrugged.  "It goes in waves.  Right now, no, 
not very much."

Their eyes met for a long minute, seeking, reading.  
Finally Scully released a breath that was almost a nervous 
laugh.  "I'm sorry.  God, Daniel, this is..." she glanced 
up at him, once more studying his expression before she 
continued.  "I'm not quite sure how I should be acting at 
this point."

Daniel shook his head.  "It's okay.  I don't think there's 
a precedent, Dana.  For either of us.  Maybe all that 
matters is that we're honest."

Scully nodded, comfortable with his response.  "Honest.  
Okay...."  She stared at the floor, letting the noise and 
nervousness settle around her and the truth float to the 
surface.  "I'm glad you're here," she said simply.

Daniel released a soft breath, then walked forward and 
slipped his hand easily around hers.  "I'm glad I'm here, 
too."

Her fingers closed around his as she tried to return his 
smile.

"I think that's a good place to start," he said.

"I think you're right."


*****


The restaurant was lovely, the food delicious.  But this 
was an area where Daniel had always excelled.  The soft 
jazz music, the amber lights and sparkling glasses were 
soothing to her tired limbs.  She had stuffed herself with 
breadsticks and pasta, and they were basking comfortably in 
the lazy conversation between dinner and the check.

"So, anyway, my secretary never tried that again.  At least 
not without changing her name first," Daniel finished.

Dana's smile was easy.  She took another sip of the rich 
merlot.  "I'm surprised she's still working for you."

"Yes, so was I," he said with a light laugh.  They fell 
quiet for a moment.  Then when Daniel spoke again, his 
change in tone caught her off guard.  "What haven't you 
told me, Dana?"

She swallowed.  "I'm sorry?  What do you mean?"

But his look was almost a reprimand.  Trapping her beneath 
his penetrating professor's gaze, making her grasp for 
excuses what might have happened to her homework.  But 
beneath the bluster...kindness.  "You're very vulnerable 
right now," he said softly.  "And I need to know 
why...you've obviously been through something, or are going 
through something.  I don't want to take advantage of you.  
And from a selfish angle, I don't want to build on shaky 
ground.  Not again."

Dana cleared her throat, concentrated hard on the pattern 
of remaining tomato sauce on the plate in front of her.  
"Utterly obvious, am I?"

He didn't answer, but there was no judgment in his 
expression.  Only openness.  "I wasn't trying to hide 
anything from you.  I just...wanted last night to be about 
you and me, and not about..."

"About what?"

Scully drew a deep breath.  No time like the present to 
take the plunge, right?  "Okay, here goes.  I started work 
on the X-Files eight years ago.  At the time it was run by 
Agent Fox Mulder, working alone.  Against the grain, shall 
we say.  I was assigned to...to help him.  At least that's 
what I took it as.  We worked together for seven years 
without a break.  Then this last fall..."  Scully swallowed 
hard, clenched and released her jaw.  She was regretting 
the amount of food in her stomach.  "Mulder took a chance 
he shouldn't have taken.  He went undercover without 
telling me.  He walked into the lion's den, apparently, 
without giving me a chance to have his back, and..."

She sucked in her lower lip, slid her teeth slowly across 
the flesh, tasting a mixture of lip gloss and pineapple.  
"And he died."  She would get a running start, feel so 
strong at the start of her sentence, and once the words 
reached her lips, the slow burn would spread beneath her 
skin--and her throat would close.

She heard Daniel catch his breath.  "Oh, my God, Dana...I'm 
so sorry, Darling."

She couldn't look up.  Forward was the only direction to go 
these days.  "He, uh...the thing is, Agent Mulder and I 
were..."  She closed her eyes again, layering the armor.  
"We were together for a long time, working a job that 
didn't allow us much time or possibility of associating 
with anyone else.  And we were...He was more than my 
partner.  Not that we were--we weren't *together* in the 
literal sense, but--" She drew a forced breath, pushed back 
in her chair.  "It's hard to put into words."  She sat up 
straighter, felt a shift of warm gold against her neck.  
*You gave that back to me so many times...*  "We were the 
most important people in one another's lives...for a long 
time."

Daniel was listening intently, the red-blue light 
flickering on the lines and planes of his expression.  She 
lifted her gaze to meet his, and it was easier than she had 
imagined.  Felt good, actually.

"That must have dropped the floor out from under you, your 
life," he said softly.

She lifted her eyebrows in acknowledgment.  "I've been on 
autopilot for a while now...it's getting better, 
but...there are days..."  She swallowed again, cleared her 
throat.

Daniel caught sight of their waitress and lifted a hand to 
call her attention.

"Come on," he said to Dana.  "Let's get out of here."

*****

(End of Chapter 7b.  Continued in 8a...)
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