By Kimogen
Kimogen5@hotmail.com
 

Category: MSR
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer:  Not mine, I just like to get them in the sack as often as
possible.
Spoilers: Elegy
Summary: She sat for long minutes in the car outside the hospital
before driving home to her cold and empty apartment, alone, as ever.

They had argued in the hospital, about the Truth, of all things. It
was always the Truth. He had accused her of working against him, in
his round-about way. As she sat outside, pondering her condition, Dana
could have found it very easy to hate Fox Mulder. He was always so
busy searching for answers, never focusing for a second on what was
right in front of him.

After sitting for nearly half an hour, she watched Mulder come loping
out of the main doors and get into his car. His long legs carried him
quickly across the parking lot and Dana felt a kind of longing settle
over her heart that she could not explain. He had told her tonight
that he feared the same thing she did, but Dana found herself
unconvinced. How could he ever know the secrets of her heart, things
she barely acknowledged herself? She shivered, realising the cold for
the first time since she had been sat there, huddled in her big coat.
She remained for a few more long minutes before forcing herself to
start the engine and driving home to her cold and empty apartment.

xxx

Dana turns the key in the lock and opens the door to discover her
apartment is neither cold nor dark as she had earlier expected.
Instinctively, she draws her gun from the holster at her waistband,
pushing the door closed behind her and she stalks towards the noises
she hears coming from the kitchen. As she crosses the room, Dana calls
out the words that come to her lips without considering them,

"Federal Agent, who's there?" She rounds the corner just as Mulder
comes into sight, a tea-towel in his hand. His eyes widen and he holds
his hands high in surprise. Dana lets out her breath in a rush.
"Dammit, Mulder!" She quickly reholsters her gun. "What are you doing?
Did you forget where you live?" Her tone is annoyed, remnants of their
earlier altercation rushing back to her as she stands, hands on hips.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." Mulder lays his hand on
her arm in apology, but Dana pulls away. She wants to know what he is
doing there. Mulder is suddenly sheepish, knowing that he is not yet
forgiven. He takes a step back, out of her personal space and slings
the tea-towel onto the counter. "I came to apologise. When I got here,
you weren't back yet, so I thought I'd wait. I wanted to tell you,
what I said earlier, I was out of line. It all came out wrong." Mulder
sees her face soften and she drops into a chair. She is too tired to
fight. "I think we have some things we need to discuss." His voice is
quiet, losing the pleading edge his earlier words had. Dana nods
slowly and rests her head in her hands.

"Does it have to be tonight, Mulder?" She is suddenly so tired that
she just wants to sleep. Mulder's hand is warm on her shoulder, even
through her coat and she is suddenly grateful that he is there with
her. When she looks up, his face is full of concern. She immediately,
automatically allays his fears, "I'm fine, Mulder. Its been a long
day, that's all." The words aren't a lie, she has been through a lot.
Still, Mulder cringes at the words.

"Scully, do me a favour?" She is too exhausted for his games so she
nods and sighs. "Will you let me take care of you? Just tonight?" His
eyes are tender, he has no motive here, just concern. He isn't going
to pressure her into letting him know her deepest fears, he won't
force her to talk to him. He just wants to take away her suffering and
loneliness for one night. He just wants to see that she is
comfortable. She reluctantly agrees to move to the couch whilst he
makes tea. She lays down, slipping out of her shoes and dropping her
coat. It falls to the floor and remains there until Mulder comes into
the room, sets the tea-cups on the coffee table and picks up the coat,
thinking how uncharacteristic of her it is to be so careless when she
is ordinarily so compulsive with her neatness. He smoothes it out,
takes her cell-phone from the pocket and sets it on the table for her.
He hangs the coat in the big pine cabinet by the door as she watches
him from where she lays. He returns to her side and insists that she
let him prop her up in a nest of cushions and that she drink the warm
sweet tea that he hands to her. As she sips, tasting the sugar he has
added, she smiles and he settles at the other end of the couch, her
feet pressing flat against his thigh.

"Thankyou." Is all she says, breaking the companionable silence that
had settled between them. He nods and takes a drink of his own tea.
They lapse back into silence for long minutes until Mulder puts down
his cup on the table before them and turns slightly to face her. She
watches him over the rim of her cup, wondering what he is thinking. He
has that look on his face that she knows so well. He is contemplating
her, profiling her as she sits there. He does it whenever he thinks
her mind is elsewhere, tries to tap into her thoughts. She nudges him
with her toes, yawning around her drink and stretching out like a cat
on the big sofa. Mulder takes hold of her foot and squeezes. The
caffeine from the tea has begun to seep into her system and Dana feels
slightly less exhausted as she reclines on the couch, her foot still
gripped in his hand. She allows herself to enjoy the moment, suddenly
glad to have his company, his care.

Dana barely feels his hands, pulling both of her feet into his lap as
he scoots closer. Her head is tipped back and eyes are closed as
Mulder begins to massage her insteps, grinning as her toes curl and
she looks up in surprise.

"Mulder..." He voice trails off, the conviction in her tone dying as
he continues to rub her feet. Mulder knows he is good at this, and her
feet must hurt from the heels she has been wearing all day. "Hmm...you
don't have to do that..." Even as she says it, his hands are working
magic on her aching soles and Dana hopes that he doesn't stop.
Mulder's light chuckle draws one eyebrow towards her hairline before
she succumbs to his ministrations and slides down against the
cushions.

Dana feels herself drifting off to sleep as Mulder's hands finally
still. She sighs and turns slightly to rest on her side. She mumbles
that he doesn't have to stay, but his only response is to flip on the
television and press the mute button. He drags the afgan from the back
of the couch and tucks it around her even though the coldness that had
set into her bones was chased away long ago by his fingers pressing
into her instep. Dana sleeps peacefully that night, nestled in the
pile of cushions, her feet rested in the lap of her partner, who keeps
vigil that night, moving her only enough to accommodate his own body
on the large couch. Mulder too sleeps deeply that night.