*livewire* I took a bit more creative liberty with this piece, and have come up with separate disclaimers for each part of the fic. This one took a bit more crafting than usual, working the second POV around the first, fitting in the same dialogue, trying to portray the same night as seen by both agents. I suppose I've always been subconsciously taken with the Season Five episode, Bad Blood, which was a hilarious and marvellous piece of story-telling. Which might also be why so many of my fics alternate perspectives...? Anyway, these vignettes are more angsty than what I've been writing recently, but are essentially still fluff. ***** Title : *Livewire I* Author : Shawne E-Mail : shawne@shawnex.freeservers.com Rating : PG-13 Category: VHA Spoilers : Rain King Keywords : M/S UST (but in a shippy way), post-ep fic for "Rain King" (Mulder POV) Archive : One condition - archive with Livewire II. Also, let me know where these babies go after I turn them loose! Disclaimers : Hey, you can't repossess them yet! I have them on hire purchase for at least another six weeks! Whoa, watch it! I have good credit, you know! Summary : Why don't we have Scully explain it for us? Scully said : "Well, it seems to me that the best relationships, the ones that last, are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day, you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with." Author says : "Now how could I *possibly* ignore that fantastic speech?? Obviously, I couldn't. And also obviously, she is talking about Mulder. What follows here is essentially what I hope happened after Holman and Sheila left the school gym, told from Mulder's POV.This story is a stand-alone in its own right, but is a companion piece to Livewire II." ====================================================== "Scully, come to bed." The words felt so perfect, so natural, on his lips. So right. And yet, he instinctively knew how wrong they /really/ were, how untrue... and how he was going to catch hell for saying them. He shrunk against the headboard in anticipation of the explosion which he knew would inevitably follow. Surprisingly, however, she lifted her head quite calmly, allowing one eyebrow to shoot up at him in a truly impressive arch. Her face spoke for her, said what he knew her lips would say if she could even be bothered to answer him. In simple terms, "no bloody way". "Please?" He couldn't help taking some delight in this one-sided conversation they were having. It wasn't often that he got to speak so obviously in double entendres, and still claim to be completely on the side of propriety. "Come on, Scully." Technically, it was a completely innocent invitation. They were sharing a bed in her room because the motel had been flooded to over-flowing this weekend in conjunction with the local high school reunion. That, plus the fact that his own room was covered in sawdust, blood, and various dismembered cow parts. So he was simply asking her to come to sleep. Perfectly normal, utterly blameless. Her fingers flew in a staccato rhythm over the keyboard of her laptop, oblivious to his wheedling and cajoling. One side of her mouth was twitching, as if she was trying hard to suppress a grin or a retort. Finally, she spoke. "It's only two in the morning, Mulder." He watched, mesmerised, as her fingers continued to move at a blinding pace. She looked up at him briefly, smiled that new little smile of hers, and added, "You can't seriously be tired already." "But I am, Scully," he whined, wincing a little when he heard the plaintive note in his words. Well, actually, he wasn't. Not really. He just wanted her to stop typing that stupid report for Kersh and come to bed. He also wanted to feel that warm little body two inches away from his own as they slept in the same bed together. He wanted to lie next to Heaven, but go through Hell for it. Talk about irony. Last night had been torture, utterly cruel and irresistibly sweet torture, having her pressed against him so fleetingly each time she turned in her sleep. He had barely slept a wink, wanting to reach for her and cover her in kisses, to carefully remove all the physical barriers between their bodies - to strip Scully naked and ravage her till she cried for more. It had been Hell, trying to keep his damn libido in check. At least he'd succeeded. He hadn't thought he'd be able to do it again, to spend another night in the same bed as this woman and /not/ show her how much every part of him wanted every part of her. But watching her now, sitting cross-legged in the chair across the room, barely two strides away from the bed and at a safe enough distance from him and his raging lust... he knew he wanted her in the same bed as him. Maybe it was some kind of sick, perverse sado-masochism. Because he knew he wasn't going to touch her unless she gave him the go-ahead. He would have to spend the entire night next to Heaven, next to Scully, watching her, ever so often getting to touch her, but there'd still be a clear line separating them, keeping him in his own personal Hell. "I want to turn the lights off, Scully," he managed at last, and watched her sigh at the interruption. "Stop writing that report. You can do it when we're back in Washington tomorrow." She continued to type furiously, not even looking up when she answered him this time. "Turn off the bedside light then," she mumbled distractedly. She appeared to have already lost complete interest in him and his innuendo. "I can work with the light from the bathroom." Sighing heavily, he realised he was caught. Now he /had/ to turn off the light and pretend to go to sleep, when he had absolutely no desire to do so at all. He couldn't. Not as long as she was in the same room as him. Plus, he /definitely/ wanted to be awake when she finally stopped working, came over to the bed, pulled back the covers, and slid herself right next to him. Oh yeah. Sleep would /not/ be a possibility tonight. He snapped off the light, and leaned back against his pillows. Earlier, while she'd been taking a bath, he had arranged them beneath him to give himself a good view of the clunky old television set. He was now glad to discover that this elevation still served him well, because he could keep watching her under the guise of sleep. His side of the room was shrouded in darkness. She, on the other hand, sat in her chair, bathed by the warm yellow glow coming through the bathroom door. Her eyes were still as bright as they had been all of last evening, and the tiniest of smiles was playing unconsciously around her mouth even as she worked. As he kept watching her, he began to think about what had happened late last night. He kept sensing that he was glossing over some important detail, that he was missing out on something that was going to cost him a lot in the future. For some reason, Scully had been uncharacteristically energetic ever since they'd succeeded in bringing an end to the drought in Kroner County. After Holman and Sheila had left the school gym together, happy at last, he'd made the mandatory rounds of the school to ensure that everything was back to normal. She had remained behind to check up on Daryl Mootz again. When he had returned, Scully had been waiting for him. The moment he'd spotted her across the dance floor, he had detected something different about her. Oh, she still took his breath away like she usually did, just standing there and smiling softly. And she still made his legs go all soft, as always, when she closed the distance between them and grabbed his hand. Nothing wrong there. But he'd also seen something in those big blue eyes of hers, a hint of mischief that he didn't recognise at all. "Let's dance," she had whispered into his ear, suddenly, sultrily. If he didn't know better, he would swear that Scully had been seducing him. Stunned by her bold offer, he'd accepted. They'd whirled around the dance floor together for the duration of one song, and holding her in his arms like that, even for only four minutes... he'd almost had a heart attack. Five times over. She had really enjoyed herself, he could tell. The mysterious smile she had sported ever since they'd started dancing never left her face. Not even when ten other couples danced by and kept insisting that she was Mary Moggs, Queen of the Kroner County High School Chess Club and avid participant in assorted other geek activities. Instead of going sullenly ballistic as she normally would have done, she'd nodded amiably at them and taken it all comfortably in her stride. He had been, understandably, dumbstruck. This was a side of Scully he'd never really had the chance to see before. He had gazed at her - yes, this time, if Holman had been looking, he would have had to admit that it was a certified 'gaze' - entranced, and barely noticed as the eleventh couple spun by, gaily calling out to Scully, "Hey Mary... you got yourself a looker!" She had been so openly playful, yet so tantalisingly secretive throughout the song. Her eyes would welcome his to look into them, and whenever he allowed himself to succumb, she would steal his heart away mischievously, only to return it to him the very next moment. It /could/ have just been the spinning disco lights playing tricks on his eyes, but he still recalled how she'd looked at him at times, with that pained yet loving smile on her face, the one that he knew meant, "God, Mulder, why are you so stupid?". She'd been trying to tell him something, but he still had no idea what. Now here they were, together, in their shared motel room. And he still couldn't help feeling that he was missing something here. Something important. It wasn't just the feel of Scully against him as they shared a bed. /That/ he missed every night, every minute, every second... every day of his life. This was different. She had been, was still, sending him some kind of message, one that he knew was obvious and hugely significant... but one he somehow couldn't decipher. The way she'd moved, spoke, smiled tonight - she had been alive. Filled with some kind of clear light and energy that was so different from, and yet so similar to, the comforting strength he had come to rely upon over the past six years. It was like... a switch had been flicked somewhere inside her. When the song ended, Scully had broken away from him, probably sensing that he would have been happy to dance with her all night if she'd left it up to him. They had migrated to a dingy little bar at her behest, where she'd inhaled three cups of coffee and become even more on edge. The moment she had taken her bath, she had started work on her laptop, pounding out her report at a frantic pace. As if she was trying to eat up some of the energy that still suffused her. His voice broke the silence, before he could stop himself. "Scully, you're a real livewire tonight." Damn it. He was supposed to be asleep! Embarrassed, he pulled the blanket up to his chest and frowned, grateful for the shadows which shielded him from her direct view. But when she lifted her head, she still managed to look right at him and into his eyes, her gaze penetrating the darkness easily... as if it didn't even exist between them. Her eyes were the only ones he knew which could do something like that, be so cutting and so kind, all at the same time. Her fingers stopped their frenetic motion, and he heard her sigh. She seemed deflated, all of a sudden, oddly disappointed... yet expectant. As if she knew, as if she had always known, that he was going to end up saying something so typically dense and Mulder-like. He wished he could take back his words. Whatever they had been, whatever they meant to her. Finally, she spoke. "I can't help it, Mulder." There was a sad little smile on her face now, an enigmatic one, tinged with hope, but laced thoroughly with sadness. She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, then pressed on resolutely. "You must have flicked my switch somewhere along the way." Her words felt so perfect, so natural, to him. So right. And yet, he had absolutely no idea what they meant. ====================================================== http://www.shawnex.freeservers.com Feedback - heavenly blessing ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** Title : *Livewire II* Author : Shawne's Evil Twin E-Mail : shawne@shawnex.freeservers.com (Please mark 'for Evil Twin' in subject heading of feedback) Rating : PG-13 Category: VAH Spoilers : Rain King Keywords : M/S UST (but in a shippy way), post-ep fic for "Rain King" (Scully POV) Archive : One condition - archive with Livewire I. Also, let me know where these babies go after I turn them loose! Disclaimers : Hey, you can't repossess them yet! I have them on hire purchase for at least another six weeks! Whoa, watch it! I have good credit, you know! Summary : Why don't we have Scully explain it for us? Scully said : "Well, it seems to me that the best relationships, the ones that last, are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day, you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with." Author says : "Now how could I *possibly* ignore that fantastic speech?? Obviously, I couldn't. And also obviously, she is talking about Mulder. What follows here is essentially what I hope happened after Holman and Sheila left the school gym, told from Scully's POV. This story is a stand-alone in its own right, but is a companion piece to Livewire I." ====================================================== This... was a caffeine high. Just the inevitable aftermath of inhaling three cups of bitter black coffee. A caffeine high, and nothing more than that. Or at least, that was what she was going to tell anyone who asked. This excess of nervous energy burning through her just simply couldn't, and shouldn't, be explained any other way. It certainly was /not/ because she was victim to a startlingly strong desire to slip into bed next to Mulder and kiss him till the moon turned blue. It was most definitely /not/ because they'd danced one song together at the high school reunion, and feeling his body against hers had made life pump through her at a frenetic pace. And it was absolutely /not/ because she was still waiting and hoping for him to receive the obvious message she had been projecting all night. This was just the coffee working its way through her system. Unconsciously, her upper lip trapped itself between her teeth as she concentrated on making the report come out coherently. No doubt she needed some kind of distraction tonight, and trying to write a dry and halfway reasonable account of the weekend's completely surreal happenings was a good way to get her mind off... well, to get her mind off the fact that Mulder was lying on the bed, watching her intensely. That he was sprawled comfortably across the bed they were going to share... for the second night in a row. Her throat went dry with wordless anticipation, even as her fingers flew at an alarming rate across the keyboard. The words marched dutifully out on the little screen of her laptop, but she could barely tell if they made any sense. She would have to proofread this again if she ever had to hand it in to Kersh, that was for sure. She only hoped he would buy Mulder's excuse - she knew that she definitely didn't. But, as usual, she hadn't had a choice in the matter, especially when she found out that Mulder had already left a note for Kersh to explain their absence. To all intents and purposes, they were both in Kansas... investigating an illegal manure-trafficking syndicate. A smile spread across her face as she remembered how she'd exploded at him when she'd found out what he'd done. "Couldn't you have come up with something that's at least /remotely/ plausible, Mulder?" she'd almost yelled at him, even as he drove them to the airport in gleeful silence. "Kersh would have to have the intelligence of a tree stump to believe that!" "Well, he /did/ approve our applications to leave D.C.," he'd deadpanned, and she'd had to agree. Maybe Kersh's iron grip and relentlessly suspicious watch over them were both starting to loosen, just a little. She wasn't sure whether that was good or not. Even the lightest authority usually had Mulder looking for covert ways to go against it. Under Kersh, whatever subtlety Mulder had observed with Skinner had been thrown to the winds, and he had spent the past few months in essentially open rebellion. She'd been trapped in the middle, fighting for his quest while fighting to keep her job and professional ethics. It hadn't been easy. She sighed inaudibly, and paused momentarily in her typing. Hell, she had no idea what she was writing, and her shoulders felt trapped in knots of tension. The bath she had taken earlier had relaxed her muscles to some extent, but she was still extraordinarily keyed up. This energy was eating away at her, and try as she might, she couldn't find a way to diffuse it. "Scully..." The word, her name, moved easily from the environs of the bed into her ear, and she failed to suppress a shiver from travelling up her spine. Why did his voice always manage to do this to her? Especially when it said her name? She waited for his next words, wondering what was on his mind. "Scully, come to bed." Her mind choked and staggered backwards, even as her fingers shot back into motion, typing furiously, hammering nonsense onto the screen. She didn't need his innuendo now. Not when she'd spent almost the whole of yesterday dreaming about sharing a bed with him again, like they had done the night before. Not unless he'd finally understood what she had been trying to tell him the whole of last night. So she did what came naturally. Lifting her head and pulling her fingers back off the keys, she stared at him, long and hard. He squirmed a little under her unflinching gaze, but the apprehension that crossed his face for a moment melted easily into mischief. "Please?" He smiled, and her heart gave one last erratic thump before it stopped pumping blood through her body. Damn, he was making her go into cardiac arrest. "Come on, Scully." If only he really was inviting her into the bed, into his world. If only he had understood her message when she had asked him to dance. But looking at him now, studying the child-like openness on his face, she knew he remained largely clueless. He couldn't be blamed for it, of course. The invitation she had extended him last night had been by no means verbal, or direct. After six years, she still did not have the courage to actually tell him what she had told Sheila in the bathroom. She was as much to blame as he was. Taking a ragged breath of torturous air into her unreceptive lungs, she forced a smile onto her face, and made her heart resume its work. Her fingers had started typing again, though she had no idea what exactly she was keying into the computer. She felt mysteriously comforted by the regular rhythm of pressing random keys. "It's only two in the morning, Mulder," she muttered, her eyes fixed on a screen she didn't see. She bit her lip nervously, hesitating, before pulling her head up so that their eyes connected briefly. A faint smile invaded her mouth, and she added, "You can't seriously be tired already." "But I am, Scully," he insisted, so vehemently that an ordinary listener would have believed he was truly exhausted. But she knew him much better than that - he was playing one of their little verbal games, the only kind they regularly engaged in. For all his intelligence and open-mindedness, Mulder could be so dense sometimes. Tonight, of all nights, she had no desire to play games with him. She wanted him to understand what she wanted for them, and she wanted him to show that he wanted it too. She had known all along who she was talking about when she spoke to Sheila last night. In effect, she had admitted how much she loved, needed, wanted Mulder... to a woman who was ultimately a complete stranger, and thus a safe confidante. It had felt so good to come out in the open with her feelings for once, so good that she'd had an irrational urge to let Mulder know about them too. So after watching Holman and Sheila leave the school gym, she had made a decision to invite Mulder into her world, a gesture she knew he would reciprocate - if only he understood the initial proposal. She hadn't wanted to come out with it in words, because that just wasn't the way things worked between them. But, after her obligatory re-examination of Daryl Mootz, and Mulder's mandatory rounds of the high school, she had almost backed out. She saw him striding across the varnished wood floor, his jacket hanging loosely on his tall frame, his hand stuck casually in his pocket. He'd been so handsome as he cut through the crowds of Kroner County High alumni to reach her side; she hadn't been able to keep the welcoming smile off her face. Was it really the right time to take such an important step? When he'd reached her side, instinct made up her mind for her, and she'd grabbed for his hand eagerly, feeling it come to life in hers. "Let's dance" were the words she'd chosen to express what she felt, and as he'd gathered her up into his arms, she had almost believed that he'd really understood what she was trying to say. It didn't take long, however, to realise that he hadn't understood anything. At all. He had just kept staring at her in disbelief, dumbstruck, even as all the other couples flowed by them on the dance floor. The only sign she'd received of him being even remotely mentally functional last night had been the smirk on his face as couple after couple mistook her for some person called Mary Moggs. She had almost cried tears of anger for daring to expect too much of him. But she had also come close to shedding tears of disappointment for his inability to rise to meet those same expectations. "I want to turn the lights off, Scully." His words broke suddenly through the defenses of her mind, as they always did, and she realised with a start that her fingers were aching. Studying the screen, she saw that she had spent the last five minutes typing the word 'stupid' into her laptop, repeatedly, subconsciously. She sighed. Was she referring to him? Or to herself? "Stop writing that report," he cajoled, and patted the empty space next to him invitingly. "You can do it when we're back in Washington tomorrow." Once again, her fingers took off at an insane rate, as if possessed. The word 'idiot' flowed persistently across the screen, in rapid succession, and she half-smiled, before finally tossing him a nonchalant reply. "Turn off the bedside light then. I can work with the light from the bathroom." He sighed, obviously thwarted in his intentions to draw her into their usual little game, and flicked off the light next to him. His side of the room receded into ebony blackness while she kept typing the one word, and her mind returned to the night before, and the high school reunion. Thinking about it again only made her want to throw up the three coffees she had drunk barely three hours ago. After their one-song dance together, she'd persuaded Mulder to go to an all-night coffee bar nearby, claiming she needed some caffeine. She'd basically hoped to give him more time to 'catch her drift', so to speak. The entire time they had shared the dingy booth in the bar, she'd alternately shot meaningful glances and disappointed stares at him, as hope swelled and ebbed within her. He had looked genuinely helpless all night long, stunned by her disguised aggressiveness. When they'd returned to their shared motel room, he had flopped onto the bed and started channel-surfing almost immediately. Half-furious and partly miserable, she had gone into the bathroom to take a hot bath, hoping that the energy in her would be lulled by warmth and water. Obviously, it hadn't worked. She shouldn't expect him to know what she was trying to tell him, just because she'd asked him to dance with her. It just wasn't fair, she knew that. But she couldn't help feeling... annoyed, somehow. Why was Mulder so damn perceptive when it came to all things extra-terrestrial, but so bloody dense when it came to /her/? When it came to /them/? Her fingers drooped tiredly at last, and she examined what she had written. Line after line of the words 'stupid' and 'idiot' filled the little screen, and she smiled wryly. She highlighted the block of repeated words, and hit 'delete', a confusing mixture of regret and sadness flooding into her as she did so. The energy fuelling her actions tonight was finally beginning to fade. "Scully?" She knew he hadn't been asleep, although she had no idea what he was thinking, lying on the bed in the darkness. A flicker of hope danced into her, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, he was going to understand after all. His next words filled her ears, but emptied her mind of all coherent thought. "You're a real livewire tonight." Tears threatened her eyes, but she pushed them away resolutely. She lifted her head expectantly, and looked into the darkness, finding him inside as she knew she would, as she knew she could. She smiled, a bittersweet smile which she knew represented a lost chance, and opened her mouth to speak. "I can't help it, Mulder." She looked honestly into his eyes, and she sensed him straightening a little under her gaze. As the words left her mouth, she knew how much truth they carried - she /couldn't/ help it. They had lost a chance tonight, one they would never be able to recapture. But she had to believe, because she couldn't bear not to, that there would be more chances in the future. She bit her lip, knowing the import of the words she was about to throw at him. But she also knew that, to him, they would mean nothing, as her signals to him had meant nothing all last night. Taking comfort in that, she closed her laptop with finality, and searched him out in the shadows again. "You must have flicked my switch somewhere along the way." As she watched him digest her words, his brow furrowed in thought, she knew what an enigma they were to him. She shrugged the ache out of her shoulders, and stretched. Standing up, she switched off the bathroom light. Maybe, one day, when he finally understood, she would be able to tell him what those words really meant to her. What they really meant for them. For now, she would have to take what she could get. Which meant another lonely night with him by her side. Sighing, she pulled back the covers on her side of the bed, and slipped easily next to him. As his arm shifted around her, she moved nearer to him, and closed her eyes. She smiled softly even as she breathed in his scent, a mixture of cologne and soap and Mulder. He was a stupid idiot, Mulder was. But he was /her/ stupid idiot. ======================================================