By allimarie
cadenzathequarterhorse@yahoo.com
 

Rating: PG-13 (language)
Category: V, A
Spoilers: Dreamland(s), Triangle, FTF
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST
Summary: When stuck in a rut, it is sometimes better to get
an entirely new car.

Disclaimer: I don't own them...yet.  But they don't seem to
be very important to Fox anymore, and CC and 1013 are...
where are they?  So maybe we'll be able to buy our dear
Mulder and Scully on sale.

Feedback: As always, yes!  But especially, now...because I'm
experiencing a crisis of faith.  In the XF powers that be,
that is.  I want a movie!!!
Archive: Gladly!  Please let me know so I can visit.

Author's Notes: I want a resurgence in x-files interest!  I
will do my part by reading more, and hopefully writing more
fic.  Many thanks to Rie for her superb beta-help, and to
Sma and Xime for the read-through!

The mood (and color) of this piece was inspired by Sting's
"Fields of Gold"...so I suppose I ought to thank him, too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Fuck," Mulder muttered as a flash of bright orange on the road
preceeded a bump and a horrible scraping sound.  He hadn't seen
the abandoned traffic cone until it was too late.

The dying afternoon sun had just surrendered in its stubborn
attempt to blind Mulder as he drove down the lonely stretch of
highway.  He stopped squinting immediately, but not a lot else
changed.  He remained focused on his silent partner through the
orange-filtered air, and she remained as far away from him as two
people sitting next to each other in one car can be.

The trip back to D.C. had commenced in the regular fashion: two
quick glances over two dingy hotel rooms after having stowed
two sturdy overnight bags in the large rental-car trunk.  Two
pairs of eyes catching each other at long last, disguised by one
shared casual smile that didn't say a lot of things.  Lately,
their words and actions seemed scripted, and today was no
exception.  They agreed Mulder should drive; Scully concluded
the assignment had been a waste of time; it was hot; this was a
good radio station.

Then Scully had withdrawn completely, and Mulder had watched her
retreating form helplessly.  Three times he had gone as far as
indrawing breath before stopping himself at the last second from
saying something stupid.  Scully did not want to talk about the
lack of a case anymore.  Scully did not want to talk about the
reason behind his sunflower-seed obsession.  And Scully most
definitely did not want to talk about the time he, his mom, dad,
and Samantha had gone camping in the back yard of their house on
Martha's Vineyard.

He was grasping at straws, but he was desperate to lure her back to
the present, and to him.  An obscure sadness had joined them in the
car, taking so much room as to practically squeeze Mulder
out the door.

But.
 

She had then begun to touch herself.  Right on the exposed skin
between her collarbone and her breasts.  Right where he discovered
he never knew he had always wanted to touch her.  Her index finger
blazed a trail and her thumb smoothed the path behind it in an
intriguing pattern that an artist might love to see on canvas.
Mulder became aware that the sadness weighing down on him was
after all his own.  However, a far more offensive mood had taken up
residence quietly between Scully and the passenger door. It was
something private, distant, sensual, and...yearning.

He observed her for over an hour, with excruciating attention
that he was in no danger of attracting in return.  He fought
the urge to touch her leg and force her to look at him.  He
knew that to force her to look at him was to force himself to
accept that she did not see him.  He shoved his hand under his
leg and made it stay.

Now, when the heat had finally broken and the golden light set his
partner's hair ablaze, Mulder resolved to recover her attention.
He smoothly transitioned the car to an exit and onto another
quiet, but less lonely, road.  He knew she was back in less than
an instant, but it took her a little longer to recollect speech.

"Mulder...?" she asked as her stubborn gaze remained fixed out the
window.

He acknowleged his triumph to himself with a shadow of a smirk and a
slight huff.

Scully was not satisfied by his non-answer, still trying to discern
their location by its unexceptional features.  "Mulder, where are we
going?"

His continued silence prompted her at last to look at him, but he
knew this victory came with a price.  With the white flag within
reach, he met her expectant gaze.  He blinked at her blandly and
tried to think.

Her eyes narrowed a little more and the eyebrow came up.
"Mulder..." she warned.

Mulder had a borderline religious experience as he spotted a likely
excuse three hundred yards ahead on the right.  He smiled privately
and turned into the lot.

"Mulder, it's a park.  What are we doing in a park?"

"Parking.  Appropriate, don't you think?"

Her patience snapped with a deafening silence but Mulder was
unconcerned.  He had already ditched the white flag for bigger
guns.  He turned the key in the ignition and looked at her.

She was staring at him in disbelief, and some obvious indecision.
To stay in the car with him was out of the question, but to get
out of the car at this point was to possibly submit to his
nameless game.  "What are we doing here?"

Now that he had her full attention, he was willing to take a few
tactical risks: he reached out and touched her hand as it rested in
her lap.  They both watched as he picked it up and lifted it to
occupy the gap between them.  His gaze made the slight shift to her
face and she stared back a little warily.  He cracked a half-smile
and said lightly, "Getting out of the car."

He dropped her hand unceremoniously and left her to interpret his
words as she would.  The air outside was as snug as the late-august
sunset had suggested.  He heard Scully's door slam and he turned
to smile at her over the car.  His smile deepened a little as he
recognized her acceptance by the way she slowly crossed her arms and
leaned a little on the roof.  She cocked her head and smiled a small
challenge.  <Oh, yeah?>

Mulder glanced around and bit his bottom lip, then strode
deliberately around to her side of the car.  She turned to face
him, now a bit defensive, as he stood
solemnly in front of her.  He reached out a hand slowly, and then
tapped her ungently on the shoulder as a grin broke out on his
face.  "Tag.  You're it."  He tore away towards a soccer field.

Whatever Scully's initial reaction had been, she was after him in a
second.  He slowed down a little to allow her to catch up, then sped
away again as she neared.  Glancing back, he saw that she had
stopped and was eyeing him like a predator.  Keeping his distance,
he put his hands on his hips.  She stalked towards him slowly, and
he stood, grinning, panting.  She stopped ten feet from him and
attempted to school her expression into a stern one.

"You better run."  Her eyes betrayed her.

He shook his head slightly, smirking openly.  "I don't think so."

She lifted one of the shoes she held, looked at it, and looked back
at him.  She returned the smirk.  "You might recall, Agent Mulder,
that I'm reputed to be a pretty good shot.  Would you like to test
that theory?"

Mulder's grin expanded.  "What, *again*?"

Scully let the shoe fly.  It hit him, harder than he would have
thought, just to the left of his groin.  At the last second he
remembered to run, but too late.

She took him down a foot from where he had been standing and
landed squarely on top of him.  She shifted a little so she
was half-kneeling on the grass, half-sitting on his chest and
placed her palms on the ground on either side of his head.
"Got you."

Mulder blinked.  "Big time."

The reference slid home in Scully's expression, and Mulder waited
for her to close off.  He saw her consider it.  He saw her take a
breath to laugh it off and knew it was the right thing to do.
Instead: "You didn't make the face."  She was not laughing.

<Thud.>  "What?"

A little more sure of herself.  "The panic face."

Ohhhh.  This was unfamiliar territory, indeed.  <The panic
face will be appearing in 3...2...>  Humor, no.  <Because I love
you.>  Complete honesty, no.  <The panic face thought you had a
sense of humor.>  Brutal lie, no.  Loaded weapons pointed directly
at his head.  "He's waiting in the car."  Take that, Agent Scully.

She smiled almost imperceptibly as she decided how to interpret
his words.  Bringing her hands closer towards his head so her
wrists brushed against his hair, she studied him with an
unreadable expression.  "Does he have Diana Fowley in the back
seat?"

Ouch.  Screw the weapons, this was hand to hand *mortal* combat.
Mulder pushed Scully off him and stood up, towering over her as
she sat back on the grass.  "Diana is different, Scully.  We've
had this discussion."

"You're wrong, Mulder."  She looked up at him seriously.  "We've
avoided this discussion."  She turned her head and stared towards
the car.  "I guess it's time to start driving back."

Mulder glowered at her, and she avoided his face, as he
deliberated.  Damn the woman.  He had started it.  He would finish
it.  He dropped down next to her, not facing her, arms wrapped
around knees pulled to his chest.  "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth, please.  Unless you've suddenly changed your policy
without informing me."

"I really don't know what you want to hear, Scully.  I thought we
had discussed this and...agreed to disagree."  He shrugged,
still not looking at her.

Scully sighed quietly.  She kneeled and turned to him, laying her
hand on his knee and forcing him to look at her.  "I don't want to
talk about work.  The car's over there."  She was asking for the
permission that had supposedly already been granted.

Mulder laid his hand over hers and looked into her eyes.  "I feel
I should anticipate your question...but you're going to have to
help me out."  Permission still granted.

The corners of her mouth turned up in a very small, and to Mulder's
surprise rather embarrassed smile and she looked away for a moment.
When she returned her eyes to his, she looked somehow younger.
"Do you love her?"

"No."  His gaze never wavered, and his other hand joined the first
in encircling hers as he shook his head slowly and deliberately.

Scully inched a little closer to him and grabbed one of his hands
with her free hand.  Voice a little lowered, she asked, "Did you
ever love her?"

Mulder felt his eyes begin to prickle as he considered how to
answer.  "I think...I thought I did.  At one time."  Absently, he
began to caress the hands that held his.  "I was wrong."

She nodded, a little guarded.  Wanting to understand and continue
without scaring either of them away.  "Did you ever tell her?"

Mulder studied Scully closely, trying to find the truth of her
meaning.  Trying to decide how to balance his words so that
what he needed to say, and what he thought she was ready to hear,
evened out.  "I said the words.  All the time, for a short
period of time, until I could no longer ignore their false echo."

Scully nodded slowly again, digesting his words.

Mulder continued, his eyes pinning hers.  "I vowed I would never
say them again, ever, unless I really meant it."

Silently, eyes bright, Scully brought his right hand to the bare
area of skin between her collarbone and her breasts.  She squeezed
his hand and pressed herself into it.  "Did you keep that promise?"

Mulder nodded a little and began to caress her skin with his
fingers.  "Yes."

"Good."  She smiled a little.  He smiled a little back.  Truce.
She looked resignedly back in the direction of the car.  "Help me
up?"  Her shy look was both apology and promise.

Mulder acknowledged both with a look.  "Sure."  He stood up and
offered his hand.

She kept a hold of it until they reached the car.

Mulder slid into the driver's seat and buckled his seatbelt.
As he turned the key in the ignition, he met Scully's eyes and they
shared a smile.  On the road again.  In a brand new car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(the beginning)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~