The File by Raine

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The File by Raine

Dana Scully finished typing for the night, stretching her hands with a sigh. After ten hours at work typing reports, she honestly didn't know why she felt compelled to open her laptop again at home and start in on her journal.

She smiled slightly as she scraped her half-eaten dinner into the garbage disposal, flipping the switch to hear the remains being digested in the steel bowels of the machine. Actually, it wasn't all that complex if you took the time to think about it. It was easier than girlfriends to confide in, which would necessitate a social life, and cheaper than a therapist. Less dangerous as well. Enemies of her or her partner, Mulder, might pay off anyone she might open up to. She sighed. It wasn't an issue anyway, since she had no time for anything other than work. Her life, subtracted to its parts, consisted of career and Mulder, dashes of Mom, and more work.

The petite red head turned out all the lights but the one in her bathroom. For some reason, she'd developed a superstition about that room. As long as she left the lights on, she was fine. It was a frivolous fear for a FBI agent, especially one who'd seen the horrors she had. However, it was nice to know she could still be afraid, so she didn't question it too closely. Being afraid meant she was still alive inside. She reached her bedroom, pulled down the thick covers of her queen-sized bed and curled up into sleep.

Scully woke sweating, the covers thrown to the end of the bed. The dream that woke her was the same she'd been having for the last several weeks. There were a few small variations, but the main portion was always the same.

She'd thought that recording it faithfully would help purge it from her subconscious and eliminate the problem, but it didn't seem to be working. Scully feared the feeling generated by the dreams might be growing past the ability of her journal to command.

Nonetheless, she padded into her living room to collect her laptop, still in the oversized Knicks jersey she'd fallen asleep in. It reminded her of Mulder, although she wouldn't have admitted that was the reason she wore it. To anything other than her journal, that was. She sat cross-legged on her bed and began to type, knowing she would pay for it in the morning, but also realizing there would be no sleep if she didn't express herself somehow.

Next day
J. Edgar Hoover Basement

Mulder sat on the edge of his desk waiting for Scully. She finally came in, uncharacteristically late. Small purple blotches ringed her eyes, and her manner was more subdued than usual. Dana poured herself a mug of strong coffee and settled into her paperwork. Mulder observed her movements over his glasses. Finally, he spoke.

"How are you, Scully?"

She shrugged. "I'm fine, Mulder. What's that?" Scully nodded at the file in his hands. He glanced down at it and slowly grinned.

"For breakfast, we have a lovely main course of sky-based light sightings with a tasty side dish of cattle exsanguinations. As a complementary sauce, we have a rural town and some homey closed-mouthed townsfolk, including an uncooperative sheriff. Sound tasty?"

She only nodded tiredly, and asked, "Where and when?"

"Today, and Desolate, Montana."

"I still can't believe they deliberately named a town Desolate. Although it does seem appropriate." Scully remarked after they got back from the site of the latest 'exsanguination'. There were no witnesses to the lights other than the old woman who originally called the Enquirer where Mulder had picked up the 'lead'.

The woman died two days before they arrived. They had in fact, timed it perfectly to attend her funeral. Apparently, she'd been something of a local celebrity for her insistent claim that she'd been sleeping with the ghost of Elvis for the last seven years.

Mulder released a deep breath as he lowered his lanky frame crosswise onto the hotel bed. "Don't even say it, Scully."

"Say what," She replied innocently, "That the only person who saw the phenomenon we were here to investigate is buried six feet under with a stack of Elvis picture clippings and a collectors 45 of 'Love Me Tender'?" Scully's face was placid and staring at the cracked plaster ceiling of the hotel room. Her voice was musing, thoughtful, her fingers steepled. "Or perhaps that the cattle 'exsanguinations' turned out to be nothing but some overzealous cow-tippers with new jack knives? Or, better yet, let see, could it be…"

"Enough already." Mulder groaned. "I should never have taken the case, okay? I should have known that the Sheriff wasn't being uncooperative, just truthful. Would you like me to say it on my knees?" His voice was mock pleading.

Dana was thoughtful for a second, and she answered in the same tone. "One of these days, Mulder, I'm going to take you up on that offer." Her blue eyes sparkled with repressed humor. She rose, stretching, hearing her back pop in several places. "Good night, Mulder."

Scully heard behind her as she exited via the adjoining door to her room, "Sorry lady, one per customer, come back again." She laughed softly and pulled the door softly shut behind her.

Mulder lay back against the headboard of the hotel bed, shifting irritably against the lumps in the mattress. Finally he got comfortable, and crossed his long bare legs in front of him, flipping through the channels until he found one he liked. He kept the volume low so he wouldn't disturb his sleeping partner.

Shortly, he found himself watching intently as Officer Sarah handcuffed a very cooperative suspect and spread his legs to be frisked. Thoroughly frisked. She tossed her mane of red hair over her shoulder as her hands again checked the now-grinning man for concealed weapons. Well, you could say a lot of things about Desolate, Montana, but you couldn't fault their porn, Mulder mused.

The dark-haired man lounged in the dark with his eyes on the screen. Sarah and the man were both steadily losing clothes. He started suddenly and muted the TV, thinking he heard something from Scully's room. Nothing. The moment the volume came back on, though, he thought he heard it again. Moaning. Again, he muted, and again the sound was gone. He turned the TV completely off in disgust and frustration and lay in the silent dark.

Finally, he heard it. It was a low moaning coming from Scully's room. It didn't sound like she was in trouble, just dreaming. A pleasant dream, from the sounds of it. The sound drifted through the adjoining wall and made a beeline to his nether regions. He sighed, running a hand over his tired face. Sleep was now an impossible dream. Mulder felt wired, edgy. He mused that he may as well channel some of that excess energy and begin on the inevitable report. Skinner would surely demand one tomorrow.

Mulder collected Scully's laptop from the table next to the window where she'd left it. He hated carrying his own around. Besides, his partner would be so pleased that he actually typed out a report that he knew she wouldn't mind if he used hers.

He flipped the computer open, blessing Whomever lay above that the sound from Scully's room had stopped. It was hard enough to look at her, day in and day out, keeping his actions toward her polite and platonic. He definitely didn't want to know she was dreaming about some other man. He swallowed hard and forced his thoughts to work.

Mulder stared at the desktop of the small screen, trying to orient himself. Finally he chose an icon at random. His brow furrowed at the password prompt. Maybe she was just being cautious in case her laptop was misplaced. She wouldn't keep anything in there from him, surely. He thought for a moment, and tried, 'Melissa'. No. He thought again and typed, 'Spooky2' Nope. Mulder smiled slightly. Kind of egotistical on his part, anyway. His slender fingers typed, almost without thinking, 'Queequeg'.

He was in, and almost immediately he realized it wasn't what he'd thought. On the heels of that thought was another, that he had no business wherever he was. He might even have exited if he hadn't seen his name. Mulder's eyes went very wide as he read, beginning with the last entry, dated one day previous.

It happened tonight again. I seems to dream like this more often when Mulder and I leave on a case than when we're in DC. Maybe it's the strange environments combined with the stress…I should stop even trying to contemplate it. I just keep thinking that if I can isolate the factors, I can control it. The fear I'm beginning to have, though, is that I don't really want to.

More and more now, they begin to run over into waking life. The two of us will be standing there, interviewing some suspect or witness, when it happens. I'll picture his large hands running over my body, sliding downward, or I'll start staring at his full lips. I long to take them in between two of my own and slip my tongue in between them, tasting him, as I press my body full against his.

All of my fantasies are getting in the way of seeing Mulder like I should, as a partner and a friend, no more. God. I can't even feel ashamed anymore. I need to control myself, if these get much worse, I'm going to humiliate myself and ruin the relationship we do have. -DS

Mulder flipped backward, hitting the 'page up' key until he found what he was looking for. He squinted at the tiny lit screen and read intently.

The next day

Scully emerged from the hotel room, carrying her bag and shutting the door. Her eyes were again ringed slightly, but her manner was placid as she faced Mulder. He was holding her laptop underneath his arm. One in the rental car, he offered it to her.

"Here. You left it in my room last night." With that, he pulled out the car and began the drive for the airport. Scully was too tired to give it much thought. Sleep had eluded her the whole night. She rested the computer on the back seat and watched the scenery pass by. Her partner interrupted her mindless contemplation.

"Did you sleep well last night, Scully? You look tired." Mulder's face was nothing but sincere.

"Um. Not really, I guess. I kept waking up. You know how it is." Scully stared fixedly out the window.

"I do, Scully. You know I have problems sleeping sometimes. It's been hard for me to sleep for a long time. I almost consider myself an expert." He laughed self-deprecatingly, then asked suddenly, "Was it a dream, Scully?" Mulder watched her reaction closely.

Through her tiredness, Scully was growing alarmed. She didn't like the way this conversation was heading, not at all, no sir. She answered shortly, "Yes." Normally, her curt tone would have ended the discussion, but Mulder kept talking. The intangible sense of alarm grew within her. Mulder's voice was carefully neutral.

"Oh. Well, you know, sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"Umph." Acknowledgement that there had been a question of sorts, but no answer in return. Mulder mercifully let the topic go. She pulled out her laptop again on the flight home when she thought he was asleep. He noted it and fell asleep for real, his dreams very vivid ones of Special Agent Dana Scully.

Two days later

Scully stepped into her apartment, locking the door behind her. It had been a long night with the family at her mother's house, a solid four hours of subtle and not-so-subtle confrontation. 'Why do you have to work for the FBI, Dana?' 'Isn't you job dangerous?' 'What is it you investigate again, exactly?' 'Wouldn't you be making more money if…'

On and on and on from her brothers, especially her older brother Bill. Her mother hadn't raised a finger to stop him. She slumped and placed her forehead head against the cool wood of the closed apartment door. The apartment was dark around her. She must have forgotten to leave a light on. She reached out to flick the switch.

"Don't." One whispered word. Scully froze momentarily, then pulled her Sig with one smooth motion from her purse, pointing it in the direction of the voice.

"You have exactly one second to tell me who you are and what you are doing here." Adrenaline made her voice harsh and commanding.

"It's me." Scully's eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, and she could see the outline of her partner in the large chair next to the sofa. She exhaled the breath she'd inhaled what seemed like an hour ago and set her weapon down on the small table by the door. Again she reached for the light.

"Leave it off."

This was growing bizarre. Adrenaline was rising again in her. She needed to turn on the light. This was entirely too much like one of her…Realization hit Scully with an almost audible thud. She could feel raw fear and a sick embarrassment grow in the pit of her stomach.

"You know." Her voice was a strangled whisper. "How." She couldn't raise her inflection enough to make it a question. All feeling seemed to have drained from her body.

The dark shape of her partner rose, merging into the darkness so she wasn't sure where he began and ended. As he drew closer, she saw he was wearing all black. It was an outfit that she had commented at some length about in her journal. It consisted of form-fitting black jeans, a black turtleneck, and black boots. She couldn't see his black leather jacket, but guessed dizzily that it was around somewhere. She could smell him, the faint musk of cologne and another, spicier small underneath. Mulder responded, stopping less than an arms-length from her. His voice was a low rasp, sending shocks down her spine.

"I was bad, Dana. I read your journal. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to use names of pets for passwords? It's one of the first things a hacker checks." He moved a half-step closer, talking into the space between her lowered head and his. Scully could feel his breath on the side of her ear. He continued. "Embarrassingly common, Agent Scully. That kind of thing could be disappointing from someone of your intelligence."

Mulder moved even closer. The space between them contracted to a hand's width. He breathed in her perfume deeply, noting that her stance was becoming unsteady. He placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling her shudder in response. He leaned inward further, whispering into her ear. "But I wasn't disappointed. In fact, I'm rather grateful." Mulder's tongue shot out and touched lightly against the edge of her earlobe just before he grasped it with his lips. He tugged very gently, released it and continued. "I just wish I had known before."

Scully's knees weakened slightly, and she swayed into him. Her world compacted itself to include only his smell and the feel of his body against hers. Mulder was so much closer than he'd ever been. She could sense the strength of his lean body underneath the layer of clothes he wore, and the thought made her pleasantly moist and sensitive.

God, she wanted him. She should be mad that he'd invaded her privacy, but she wasn't angry at all. Whatever had resulted in this pleasure was fine with her right now. Her skin was covered with dozens of tiny prickles. She couldn't believe Mulder was capable of causing these sensations without even really touching her. Well, actually, she could…Hadn't she been dreaming about this very thing for months?

Mulder looked at the petite woman standing in front of him. In the darkness, he couldn't see her face clearly, but from her silence and breathing, it was clear he was having an effect on her. Mulder changed his tone, deliberately speaking in the brisk tones he normally used for work. He wanted to be sure.

"Do you really want what I read in your journal, Scully? Tell me now, and I'll leave if that's what you want." He paused, and added more softly, "I hope you don't though, because I really want you. I have since I met you."

Scully stared up at him, aroused and stunned beyond belief. Her wide eyes searched his face in the darkness for conflicting evidence to his words and found none. Her partner simply stood there, waiting with his arms crossed, head cocked to one side. She shook her head slightly to reinstate the power of speech, and said, "Yes." Her voice came out in a low, husky rasp.

It was all he needed. In a second, he was on her, capturing her mouth with his, pulling her into his arms. Scully's arms slipped around his chest as he pressed her up against her front door, his lips pressing and releasing in a gradually more brutal kiss. She responded in kind, her need for him even greater than she had realized. His denim-covered thigh slid between hers, making the long cotton dress she'd worn ride up. Already, she could feel him like steel, pressing against her belly.

Mulder hands loosened the jacket she wore, slipping it off her shoulders to land in a puddle at her feet next to her purse. They drifted downward to her covered breasts, and backward to unzip her dress. Small sighs of frustration escaped from them both.

Scully's hands weren't idle. She reached downward to unzip his jeans, snaking her small hand into his jeans and boxers to grasp his silken heat. Mulder gasped and jerked downward on her dress, sending it the way of her jacket.

She stood there before him, flushed and gasping in her demure lace underwear. The only light came from cracks in the drawn blinds, slanting over her heaving chest, making her skin translucent. Mulder looked at her, his breathing labored. She was so beautiful, small and unbelievably erotic. The pull she was having on him was incredible. Of course, it didn't hurt that she had a physical grasp on him as well. Her small hand squeezed gently, bringing him back. She stared at him, a wicked grin on her face.

"Well, are you going to stand there all day? Get busy, Mulder." Dana removed her hand, causing him to groan aloud, and used both of them to help him remove his pants while he flicked off her bra. His tongue and mouth explored her exposed full flesh. He grasped one hardened nipple and suckled softly while his other hand brushed her free nipple with the flat of his palm, moving it to one angle, then the other. Scully whimpered. Shocks ran down from her partner's wet mouth to the swollen crevice between her legs, causing an insistent throbbing.

Their movement became even more frenzied, and soon they were nude. Mulder could feel her moist warmth pressed against his thigh, causing his cock to twitch involuntarily in an effort to find more. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. They stumbled over toward her couch a few steps, unwilling to part. Mulder chuckled softly. Or, at least, that's what he meant to do. It came out as an almost desperate laugh. God, what had she done to him? He picked Scully up bodily and set her, stunned, onto the couch. He looked down at Scully. They locked eyes, and she nodded imperceptibly.

He sank into a tight sheath of unbelievable warmth and moisture, crying out at the overwhelming sensation. Scully grasped him from behind with her legs, pulling him as far as possible into her. Her eyes were slit, her mouth wet and slightly open. Her head began to move, dragging her hair across the couch as her body arched into the sensation coming from below. Mulder thrust into her, slowly at first, then more fiercely, grinding her into the couch. He moved her legs gradually upward until they were both almost screaming with pleasure.

He rubbed her slick bud as they came together, sending her spiraling over the edge. She screamed, "Mulder, Oh God…God, Mulder." The feeling of her clamping down on him forcefully as she came was too much. He jumped over the cliff with her, groaning, "…love you." He collapsed, attempting with limited success to keep from squashing the small woman underneath him.

She hugged him fiercely, and after Mulder recovered, he gathered her up in his arms, moving so they were lying side by side. The two were silent for a second. Finally, Scully spoke softly, not turning to look at him.

"Mulder, if you didn't mean…If you didn't mean it, I'll understand. I mean, it was intense, and…" She was forced to stop talking as he tipped her chin gently with one finger. He grasped her lips, initiating a passionate kiss. When they came up for air, he replied firmly.

"I meant it, Dana Scully. I have meant it for four years without having a chance to say it. Okay?" She nodded, taking his lips and other areas simultaneously. There would be time to respond more thoroughly later.