By Shoshana
shoshana1013@excite.com
 

DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere
SPOILER WARNING: Through end of Season Six
RATING: PG
CONTENT STATEMENT: MSR
CLASSIFICATION: VRA
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance
SUMMARY: Mulder recovers at home.
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me.
NOTES: Many thanks to my wonderful beta readers, Char and Meggo.

Recovery III
By Shoshana

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Early September 1999
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I open the door to his apartment and he's still sitting on the
couch, looking as glum as can be. I shouldn't have abandoned him
like that. I shouldn't have left him alone just because he asked
about Diana.

I still don't know what their previous relationship was and I don't
know if I want to. I can't blame him for being a bit concerned about
her. And I can't let the past get in the way of our future together,
one that is finally becoming a pleasant reality.

Mulder has no memory of the way we've been teasing and romancing
each other this summer. But I do. Nothing earth shattering. Just a
lot of quiet dinners at nice little places. A lot of moonlit walks.
A lot of hand holding. And chaste kisses to parts of my body I never
knew were erogenous zones... until his lips touched them.

He probably suspects that the shooting is what crumbled my
resistance, forced me to affirm my feelings for him. Yes, most
definitely it shook me up, made me re-evaluate our relationship. But
also there were the events of the past few months, when our caseload
dwindled and we had time to relax with one another.

He can't remember those lazy summer days we spent together and I
regret that, because I've never been courted like that by any man,
especially a man like Mulder. I'm determined to give him some much
better memories once he gets his health back.

We've already created a few new ones these past two weeks. Our
first real kiss, the one I'll always remember (and thank goodness he
will, too), was so sweet and gentle. We were still at the hospital
and I'd just told him that he'd taught we how to play baseball last
April. I all but promised him that we'd make it to home plate soon,
if I had anything to do about it.

I leaned over and sealed my vow with a kiss... his warm, soft lips
touching mine, caressing mine. He looked so happy, so blessed, when
I pulled away to gaze at him. I knew that our belief in one another
had saved him once again, saved *us* once again.

So, now he's sitting on his couch, looking like he's just lost his
best friend. And that's the last thing I want him to think is
happening... so I walk over and sit down beside him, ready for the
reconciliation phase of our argument. Argument? What argument? I'm
too exhausted, too touched by his sad eyes to discuss Diana Fowley
now. I'm ready to shelve it in a place the sun don't shine.

That's exactly what I do, taking my poor, suffering amnesiac in my
arms, holding him loosely, avoiding pressure on his still tender
chest wound. He rests his chin on my shoulder, arms slack against
his torso. He hasn't had that much physical therapy yet and wrapping
his arms around me still hurts a bit. But our present position feels
just fine, and I can sense the tension evaporating from the room,
replaced by a lighter, more conciliatory mood.

"Scully?"

"Mmm..."

"I hope you're not mad at me still."

"Only a little," I murmur, not willing to let him off the hook
completely.

"I called Frohike. I know what I said to you last February."

"What!? Did they have a surveillance tape of their hideout
available from that day?" I snap sarcastically.

"No. Actually, it was all written down in my journal."

"You keep a journal? I wasn't aware of that."

I am genuinely surprised that he's been hiding such a thing from me,
my eyes wide open with curiosity.

"It's not something I meant for you to read. Well, at least unless
something..."

"In the case of your untimely demise, right?"

I smile as we readjust our positions on the couch, getting
comfortable for what promises to be a lengthy discussion.

"Well, yes. The Lone Gunmen are automatically forwarded entries as
they're completed. Not that they read them or anything. At least, I
hope not. It started out as a record of our work together. I
started it the day we started working together, that night
specifically. It was just supposed to be information I wouldn't dare
include in official F.B.I. documents. I found that it became
somewhat of a personal refuge very soon after I began writing it."

"How personal? Personal as in 'personal interest is all that I
have.'"

I can't resist a self-satisfied smirk as I revive my bitter words
from last February. If he's been reading a transcript of that
argument in the Lone Gunmen's office, those haunting words ought to
be fresh in his mind.

"Touche, Scully. You've got me up against the wall here. Nothing
could be more distressing to me than to learn in retrospect how wrong
I was at the time. I still clung to what little faith I had in old
friends."

"Or old lovers, huh?"

The barb comes out before I can restrain my worst impulses and I
feel a slight twinge of regret. God, I'm being a bitch today.

Mulder thoughtfully chews on his lower lip, determined to continue
despite my moody rebukes.

"Another point for you, Scully. Now, just let me finish what I was
saying, O.K.?"

We sit side by side on the couch and he grabs my right hand, eager
to have some physical connection between us as he continues, "I'll
tell you about Diana in a minute. I want to finish what I was saying
about the journal. It was just supposed to be a record of our
casework, especially since I thought they'd sent you to spy on me."

He flashes me a smile and squeezes my hand warmly as we exchange
knowing looks. They'd chosen the wrong woman for the job, creating a
partnership that gave the Consortium more trouble than they'd expected.

"I wrote about our cases, but I also wrote about you, about my
relationship with you. So that's why I've never mentioned keeping a
journal to you. It's not a sin of omission. I just couldn't share
those most personal thoughts, not without jeopardizing our
friendship. I think I would have felt the same way reading something
you wrote. I *did* feel that way in Allentown, reading your journal
by mistake. I think you can understand now that I wasn't keeping
secrets from you. I just... couldn't tell you how I felt about
you... and sometimes that journal was all about you, nothing but
you..."

I feel sufficiently chastised for my cheap shots earlier. He's been
trying to tell me how long, how deep, his love has been for me by
'fessing up to the journal. Obviously, it had served as an outlet
for his most closely held private thoughts all seven years of our
partnership. And now he was using it to reorientate himself after
losing a year of memories.

His words touch my heart and I blink at a few errant tears. I swipe
at them with my free hand, embarrassed at my lack of composure. I
feel silly all of sudden. How self-centered I'd been earlier when
I'd left him to fend for himself. He's still in bad shape and
anything could have happened while I was gone. I can't meet his eyes
anymore, ashamed of my juvenile behavior, lacking the initiative to
discuss any of the unpleasant events last February. That doesn't
prevent Mulder from doing so, as he returns to the previous topic of
discussion.

"Scully? Don't cry, please?" He notices my tears and he lifts my
chin gently, urging me to look him in the eye. "I want to tell you
more. Some really important things that I obviously didn't get
around to last year and I really need to now. I want to set the
record straight so we can go on, so you don't think I'm hiding
anything from you, O.K.?"

I nod affirmatively and he gives me a quick smile before slipping to
into serious Mulder mode.

"I've read over the journal entries after the El Rico massacre and I
think I understand now why I was so stubborn, why I treated you like
I did. That's not an excuse. I'm not proud of what I said and I
wish I could erase those words from your memory."

"But, I know I never meant to hurt you because it's plenty clear
from the journal how bad I felt. I felt like I'd never be able to
make it up to you. I vowed to treat you differently from then on,
with more candor and respect. You know I don't remember any of this,
but the words are there and thank God they are, because I'd be
sitting here without a clue right now. I just hope that whatever
memories you have of our interactions after those few days in
February aren't all bad. I hope I wasn't an insufferable asshole to
you, because clearly I didn't want or mean to be one from what I've
read in the journal."

"No, Mulder. You weren't insufferable *all* the time after that.
Just sometimes," I jest, chancing a smile.

He grins back and I lean over and kiss him chastely, smoothing my
hand over his cheek. "Things got better. We got the X-Files back
shortly thereafter. You didn't skip ahead to the first case Skinner
assigned us to, did you?"

"No, I didn't make it that far. Was it very interesting?"

"Oh, yeah." I smile at him mysteriously and he raises his eyebrows,
curious now.

"What, Scully? Where'd we go? What happened?"

"We went to California, to a planned community. Couples had
disappeared without a trace over the course of a few years and there
seemed to be no rational explanation. Turned out to be a garbage
monster. Well, actually you called it a 'tulpa,' a Tibetan thought-
form conjured up by the head of the neighborhood association. He was
murdered by his own creation."

Mulder listens to me ecstatically, hanging onto every word. "Did
you see the monster, Scully?"

"No. I was thirty seconds too late apparently. It's too
complicated to explain now... but yes, Mulder, it was another
instance in which I wasn't around for the floor show."

"That's my Scully," he says, bringing my palm to his lips for a
quick kiss.

"I didn't even tell you the best part, Mulder. We were undercover
as a married couple..."

"No kidding? Did I annoy you? Tease you mercilessly? Hang all
over you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact you did. Are you sure you didn't read
about this already?"

He shakes his head, a smile plastered on his amused face.

"You made lame jokes and pawed me whenever we were out in public.
You tried to molest me behind closed doors, but I didn't let you get
away with much, lover boy..."

"Scully, I want details. Feed me details."

He is enjoying this *way* too much, I decide. But I am too, so what
the hell...

"Alright. You told this other couple that you met me at a U.F.O.
convention, that I was into magnetic bracelets and crystals and mood
rings. Then you said I was a sucker for all that new-age stuff."

"I did?"

"Yup. You were a royal pain in the ass, Mulder. You didn't even
think it was a real X-File, at first. I didn't think you were taking
anything seriously. Until you managed to get a glimpse of the
'tulpa.'"

"So... where'd I sleep?"

"Ha! You have to ask! On the couch!"

"Aw, Scully. We were married!"

"In your dreams, Mulder. And anyway, we were on official business.
Even if we'd been involved back then, I wouldn't have allowed it. I
wouldn't allow it now, though I might hang out on the couch with you
pretty late..." I give him a playful look and he moves a little
closer, wrapping one arm around me.

"Does your arm feel better, Mulder?"

"Now that it's around you it does..."

"Well, don't do anything I wouldn't do..."

"Like this, you mean..." He kisses me soundly on the lips, making
those few days spent investigating The Falls at Arcadia a distant
memory...

fin

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