me.  Inspiration for the plot came from the wonderful short story "The
Hitchhiking Game" by Milan Kundera. I intend no infringement.

Warnings: It is no secret that I detest putting ratings on my work, and I'm
bad at it too.  If this were a movie, it would be rated R for two instances of
strong language.  There are also what they call 'adult situations'.  That
means romance, all you anti-relationshippers, though I'm not sure you
guys would detest this story, either.  So you decide if you want to read it,
OK?

Episode references: Syzygy.  War of the Coprophages.
This story has been revised slightly since its original posting to M&S on
June 2, 1996.

Game
by Megan Reilly
zzcf89a@prodigy.com
5/23/96

The drive was getting to them both.  Their tensions were still high,
threatening to ignite with any tiny spark of their tempers.  It was late and it
was dark and they were stewing in their own anger.  They were headed out
of Comity now, but the problems wouldn't disappear once they reached
the airport.  This had been growing inside them both like a cancer for
some time now.

Bambi.  Detective White.  Scully's foot pressed harder on the gas pedal,
bringing their speed up close to seventy on the tiny farm road in the dark. 
She knew she should slow down for safety's sake, but she could still hear
Mulder's words ringing in her ears.  "I wasn't sure if your little feet could
reach the pedals."  They sure as hell can, Mulder, she thought, clenching
her jaw to the point of pain.  She wanted to hit him.  So she wasn't tall,
and bleach blond, and anorexic like Detective Angela White, who had of
late had the privilege of gracing Mulder's bed.  She really wanted to hit
him.
	
Mulder didn't want to fight any more.  This was all because of the
conjunction of the planets, the syzygy, the "Cosmic G-Spot," as the town
astrologer had told him.  Once this night was over and they were out of the
area, everything would be fine.  He didn't even know why Scully was so
mad at him.  She was the one who was being difficult.  And he refused to
consider the notion that she was jealous of Det. White - nothing had
happened, for God's sake!
	
"Want to play a game?" Mulder asked as he saw the sign for the gas
station.  She was already slowing to make the turn.
	
"Mulder-" she snapped.
	
"Something sophisticated," he said, and she was silent, waiting.  "We'll
pretend we don't know each other, that we just met,"  Mulder said, and
still didn't look at her, as though the suggestion somehow embarrassed
him.
	
"I wish," she muttered under her breath.  He wasn't supposed to hear her
but he did and it hurt.	
	
He continued, "I'll get the gas and you pick up some supplies and when
you come back out of the store, it'll be like we never met.  You'll be a
hitchhiker and I'll be the guy with the car."
	
The car stopped at the gas pump.  Neither of them moved.  "I would never
hitchhike," Scully said, a feeble argument but the best she could do.
	
"So?"
	
"So, this sounds like a third rate fantasy out of one of those movies I'm not
supposed to know you watch,"  Scully said, hoping to shame him out of
the idea, although it intrigued her.
	
"Actually, I think it could be a bonding experience.  A chance to start
fresh for a little while.  You did role playing at the Academy,"  Mulder
said.  She looked at him and saw that he was sincere.  He showed no sign
of trying to trick her or humiliate her.  Maybe this would be just what they
needed.  Freedom from pressure, to be themselves again and not who the
other expected them to be.  So they could trust each other again.  	

"OK," Scully agreed, much to Mulder's surprise.  She pushed open the
door and headed for the ladies' room at the back of the gas station.  
	
Mulder's stomach turned slightly nervous now that she'd agreed.  What
was going to happen? He wanted them to be able to get back to the easy
companionship they'd had from the beginning, even when he hadn't trusted
her completely.  He couldn't forget the way he'd felt, wondering what she
thought of him, wanting to impress her.  It had been hard work, but it had
also been satisfying. Even exciting.  But somewhere along the way he'd
lost the ability to surprise her without being nasty.
	
He loosened his tie more, and ran a hand through his hair and waited for
her.

Dana's heart was pounding as she came out of the small shop, a brown
paper bag full with soda and candy bars clutched in one hand, her jacket
slung over her other arm.  She'd had to stop herself from buying sunflower
seeds and iced tea for Mulder to try to smooth things over; a hitchhiker
wouldn't know that about him.  "If there's an iced tea in that bag..."  A
hitchhiker would not have heard him utter than sentence a thousand times
in her dreams.  That was when she'd gotten scared, wondering how this
game would work and if it was a good idea.
	
She met his eyes across the paved lot.  She was surprised to see his hair
out of place, tousled into a style that belonged on a model in a catalog. 
Dana was more surprised when his eyes raked over her body
appreciatively, taking in the silk tank top she'd been wearing underneath
her jacket.  Well, they didn't call it the Miracle Bra for nothing, she
thought with a wry smile.
	
One of his eyebrows went up and his eyes were dark.  "Need a ride?" he
asked, beginning the pretense.
	
"Going my way?" she asked, the smile touching her lips now directed at
him.
	
"Which way is that?" he asked and he sounded as though he planned on
leaving her there.  He'd ditched her before.  Her heart started pounding.
	
"Any way," she said in a low voice she didn't remember ever using outside
the bedroom.
	
"Get in," he said and she actually felt relief.  On an impulse, she hiked up
her skirt as she climbed into the passenger seat.  When he went to put the
car into gear, he couldn't help noticing the expanse of bare leg and their
eyes met again.  Dana held back a shiver of conscience and satisfaction at
the dark look she saw in his eyes.  She'd removed her pantyhose in the
ladies' room of the gas station.
	
Neither of them spoke as the car rolled back onto the highway, back into
the dark night.  Dana leaned her head against the cold glass of the
window.  Some help this is, she thought, it's the same as before, except
now he's driving.  Maybe it was all a dirty trick to regain control over the
car, she thought, looking at him with new distrust in her eyes.
	
"What's your name?" he asked, aware that she was looking at him.
	
"Sc-" she began to answer automatically, then changed her mind.  This
was a game, why not play it?  "Dana," she said, and waited to see what he
would do.
	
"Dana," he repeated as though he'd never heard it before.  Strange to hear
it from his lips, she thought.
	
"What's yours?" she asked.
	
"Fox."
	
She started, her eyes going wide.  She'd never expected him to have her
call him by that name, not even in a game.  Especially not in a game. 
Then again, Dr. Bambi had been allowed.  "Fox," she said awkwardly. 
Strange to hear it from her own lips.  "That's unusual," she said, her mind
beginning to work in different ways than it usually did.  "Why'd they call
you that?"  It had never occurred to her to ask before.  She'd never had the
opportunity.
	
He shrugged, one shoulder rising and falling quirkily.  "Aren't you gonna
be straight with me?  Fox?" she asked and her eyes widened at the slight
Southern cadence creeping into her speech.  But then she broke into a
grin.  She kind of liked it.
	
"It was different," he said, his voice tight, his eyes glued to the road
unfolding before him.  He was uncomfortable talking about it.  "I was
different."
	
"Different is a good thing,"  Dana said, and put her hand on his knee
without even considering the action twice.  The car veered slightly off its
course as he flinched at her touch, but she didn't remove her hand, finding
that she liked the quickening of his breath that she could both see and
hear. She was getting to him. She'd worked with him for such a long time
that she'd forgotten what it was like having a man react to her.  She settled
more firmly into her seat.  "I know what you mean, though, I always had a
hard time fitting in," she admitted casually, as though the pain of her
adolescence no longer troubled her.
	
He glanced at her and she looked away, her eyes retreating to the view out
the passenger window as she continued, a faint flush staining her face. 
"My dad was in the service so we moved about once a year.  There were
always new kids to try to get along with, kids who already had their
friends established.  Kids who thought I looked funny or talked funny or
was just too damned smart."
	
He was nodding.  "Are you a smart one, too?" she asked, aching to reach
over and touch him when she saw the look on his face.  He nodded some
more, and she wondered why he was being so quiet.  "How smart?"
	
He was quiet for a long time before he thought of an answer and when he
did speak, he was uncomfortable.  It was truly as though she was a
stranger, but an important stranger, and it made his mouth dry and his
mind shy and reticent.  He couldn't find the words to charm her the way he
would have under any other circumstances.  "When I started school, they
skipped me up three grades because I could already read.  So there I was,
six, and there they were, almost ten and..." He fell into silence.  There was
no need for her, or anyone, to know.  It wasn't a story he was all that proud
of.
	
"What happened?"
	
"I decided I wasn't going back there.  So they sent me to first grade, but
the kids all knew where I'd been and the teacher didn't want me there."
	
"My God," she breathed, imagining what that would have been like.  It
would have been like moving around and being made fun of for always
having her nose in a book, only times ten.
	
"I got beat up a lot before I learned to fight back.  Then they found an
accelerated private school and I went there.  So I only got beat up on the
weekends by the neighborhood kids."  He said it so casually, as though it
didn't matter, as though it didn't hurt him.
	
"It didn't stop," she murmured, unable to stop staring at him.
	
"No.  It just got worse from there."
	
"Why?"  The word was out of her mouth before she could think to stop it.
And he clammed up, closed his mouth and set his jaw.  He wasn't going to
tell her the rest, she thought, and desperately wanted to reach out to him.
To assure him that one day he would find Samantha. But she couldn't.
	
"Surely it wasn't all bad.  What about the girls?"  She had no idea why
she'd said that.  Maybe because his track record with women had been
particularly good these days.
	
"What about them?"
	
"Don't girls like smart guys?"
	
"Do you?"  His eyes were cold as they met hers for a moment before
darting back to the road.
	
"Yeah," she said.
	
"Did you, back in school?  Honestly.  What would you have said to a guy
who was too smart for his own good, and too tall and too skinny with a
face that -"
	
"A face that what?" she asked softly, watching him closely when he
speaking.  His features and they way they fit together had always
fascinated her.  His knuckles were turning white on the steering wheel.
	
He glanced at her again and this time it was a glare.  "You're pretty hot,"
he said, that casual, hard gaze scraping down her body again and she
gaped at him.  "You were probably popular in school, lots of friends, class
president, pretty and knew it."  The words were an accusation and her face
flamed.
	
"Afraid not," she said and was comforted by how much she sounded like
herself.  Scully.  That self.  "Wrong on all counts.  I think I spent prom
night in the library, just me, some books and a bag of M & Ms."
	
"Oh, but you like smart guys now?"
	
"Sure."
	
"Only because they make a lot of money,"
	
"What's money got to do with it?" she snapped, irritated with his attitude. 
Indeed, with the attitude of all the men she met who looked her up and
down and decided she hadn't a brain in her head, and then when she
opened her mouth and spoke, decided they weren't interested in someone
who could think for herself.  "I want someone I can talk to.  What's wrong
with that?  It's all right for men to be smart, but women are just supposed
to simper and show off their breasts."
	
"I don't think you have anything to complain about," he informed her with
a look at her tank top.  It didn't sound like a complement and she set her
jaw and glared like a child.
	
"Are you saying that I...that...what are you saying?" she demanded.
	
The car swerved off the road and she let out a small scream before
realizing he'd done it deliberately.  They rolled to a stop on the soft
shoulder of the road.  "I'm saying that your mind only makes me want to
do this even more," he said, meeting her eyes with a startlingly intense
look as he unfastened his seat belt and then hers, sliding his palms slowly
down the silk of the blouse.
	
She shivered under his touch, feeling her nipples tighten in reaction as his
fingers played over her skin through the thin fabric, teasing and caressing. 
Suddenly they were both caught up in a frenzy of motion, pulling closer,
repositioning in the small space of the car, touching each others' bodies
hungrily, their eyes locked in an intense staring contest.
	
She grabbed the loose tie that was still knotted around his neck and
yanked, crushing his mouth to hers, their tongues meeting only a fraction
of a second after their lips fused hotly.  His hands slid down to her hips,
across her thighs and then back up, shoving the skirt up and repositioning
her against the back of the seat, pushing her higher so there was room for
him beneath her hips.  She could feel the size and heat of him, skimming
her fingertips lightly down the zipper of his trousers before she reached
for his belt to unbuckle it.
	
His hands seized hers and brushed them away in a rush to do that work for
her, feeling the chunky heels of her shoes against the small of his back as
her legs wrapped around him.  His lips slid down to her throat, licking and
sucking at the pulse beating out of control there.  She groaned and threw
her head back to allow his lips freer access to her skin, to press her heated
self more closely against him, wanting more, wanting all of him.
	
Her head cracked soundly against the window.  "Uhhhh," she groaned, in
pain this time, her eyes sliding shut, as she pulled her fingers out of his
thick hair and gingerly touched the spot on the back of her head that had
hit the glass.  She flinched as she made contact with the growing bump
and sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth.
	
"Scully?  Are you OK?"  The concern in his tone was instantaneous.
	
Her eyes flew open in spite of the pain in her head.  Scully.  Oh Jesus, this
was Mulder.  What the hell had they been thinking?  His eyes were just as
guilty as they met hers and he moved away, off of her.  Tears not solely
from pain stung her eyes as she shifted against the plastic seat, fighting to
pull her skirt down from around her waist and cover herself.  She heard
the whisper of Mulder's zipper and something sank within her stomach. 
What had they been thinking?
	
They hadn't been thinking, it was as though they'd been overtaken by some
power stronger than their own; they'd been like animals.  Scully slid her
arms back through the sleeves of her jacket, too conscious of its weight
sliding against her still aroused body.  Her face was flaming and his was
too.  "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice rough and tight as he
maneuvered the car back out onto the road.
	
Scully was a long time in answering.  "It doesn't mean anything," she said
at last and her own voice was raw as though she'd been screaming.  "Our
inhibitions were lowered, because of the game."
	
"That was what it was supposed to do," he reminded her, an odd note of
bitterness seeping through his tone and something else.  She looked at him
sharply.  Was that regret?
	
"But it wasn't supposed to turn out like that," she said and his silence was
confirmation.  She tried again, the quiet in the car making her
uncomfortable.  She felt like she was losing him more than she had been
when they'd been arguing and not communicating earlier.  "Something
came over us-"
	
"I was being honest."  Mulder said, his tone accusatory, as though he
thought she'd been lying the entire time and would hate her if she had
been.
	
"So was I," she retorted, feeling that familiar anger flare within her.
	
"What do we do now?" he asked, reiterating his question.  "Now that
we've....and we both liked it."  He couldn't say the words.  He couldn't
even think them, not with his blood still rushing through his body like a
speeding train.  It took every ounce of willpower he had not to grab her
again and kiss her and never release her.
	
"We decide what's more important."  Scully said firmly, practical as
always.  "Our partnership - our friendship - or a quick fuck in the back of
the car."
	
He'd never heard her use such language and he did a double take.  She
looked scared.  "I think if it was just a matter of a quick fuck, we'd have
both gone for it long ago,"  he said quietly.
	
Suddenly she found it hard to breathe.  "You're right," she said, her chest
tight.
	
"Our emotions are...involved." he hesitated and she waited for more. 
There was none.
	
"That's why it would ruin our partnership," she said carefully.
	
"I think that's what's more important," he said just as carefully.  "The truth
is what matters."  
	
She laughed harshly.  "That was the truth, Mulder."
	
"And now that we both know it, we don't have to dwell on it," he said,
trying to dismiss it, and she agreed with him, trying to hide her reluctance. 
They both knew it was for the best.  To allow their feelings to rule them
would be dangerous, in their line of work, with the people with whom
they dealt.  It would make them vulnerable.
	
They didn't speak the rest of the trip, and they never spoke of what had
happened on that drive, though every once in a while one of them would
get a certain look in their eye and the other would know their thoughts
were back on that dark, deserted road and the passion that simmered
between them, barely restrained.  It was a different sort of game.

The end.

Please send comments!     It only takes a moment and it means so much. 
Anything you have to say I will listen to - criticism, praise, shrugs.  
Megan
zzcf89a@prodigy.com