Title: Sounds of Silence By: Tess Date: 3/20/00 E-mail: tnv099@aol.com Distribution: If you'd like it. But I would like to know where first Spoilers: Post ep for En Ami Rating: PG-13 for one naughty word and some smoochin' in the sack! Content: MSR Keywords: R, A. Scully POV Disclaimer: I just to this for fun. And to give them a proper resolution that is denied to them week after week. I'm making no money from this. The characters herein mentioned are the sole property of 1013 Productions, Fox and CC. Summary: Mulder and Scully deal with the aftermath of Scully's actions in En Ami Sounds of Silence (1/1) By: Tess We drive in silence back to my apartment. Mulder's hands grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white and a muscle is ticking in his tightly locked jaw. I glance over at him repeatedly but he stubbornly refuses to meet my gaze. As a matter of fact, he has barely been able to bring himself to look at me at all since I got back from this latest fiasco. I risk another glance at him. There goes that muscle again. I am well acquainted with that muscle tick. I have seen it time and again. It is a sure sign that he is angry. I saw it often during our tenure with Kersh. Every time we were called into the man's office, Mulder's face would be a smooth mask of bland indifference. But out of the corner of my eye, I could see his jaw pulsing wildly as he restrained himself from leaping across Kersh's desk and throttling him. I have seen that ticking jaw aimed at me more often than I like, usually when I express disbelief over one of his theories. I sigh inwardly. 'Either way, I'm screwed,' I muse. 'If I don't believe, he's angry and when I do believe, he's still angry.' I try to work up a healthy case of indignation but I know all too well what he is feeling, what he has been feeling for the last few days. The fear and the worry. The disbelief that I would run off without telling him. The anger and then the relief at a safe return. I know that the anger and relief are waging a war for supremacy within him and that right now the anger is winning. Resignedly, I settle back in my seat. 'When we get to my apartment,' I think, 'we can talk about it. He can scream and yell and maybe start to get it out of his system.' Mulder pulls up in front of my building. He puts the car in park and pops the trunk release but leaves the car running. His thumbs tap impatiently on the steering wheel and I realize that he is waiting for me to get out of the car. "Mulder," I begin. "Aren't you coming up?" I reach out and touch tentative fingers to his forearm. He flinches away and I draw back as he stares resolutely through the windshield. I turn slowly, releasing my seatbelt and opening the door. I slide out of the car and then lean back in. "I...I'll talk to you later?" He nods once, tersely, fingers still drumming on the steering wheel and I walk around to the back of the car to retrieve my bag. I slam the trunk shut and Mulder speeds off without waiting to see that I get into my building safely. Walking into my apartment I head directly for the phone. Picking it up I dial quickly before I lose my nerve. The phone rings three times and then the answering machine picks up. "Mulder, it's me," I take a deep breath. "I was hoping that you would come in and we could talk but you're angry and I certainly understand." I know that isn't exactly the subtlest reminder that I have been where he is on several occasions, but self-defense forces me to say it. "I just...I'm sorry and I love you. Please call me." I hang up the phone and walk to my bedroom. Reaching into my bureau drawer for my pajamas, I spy something out of the corner of my eye. Mulder's sweater is thrown across the chair. I remember being exasperated at him for tossing it there when he was getting ready for bed last week. Now I draw it over my head instead of my pajamas. I pull the collar up to my nose, inhaling his lingering scent. I crawl into bed, tired in both body and spirit and bring the phone with me. Curling up on my side, I stroke one sleeve of the sweater, pretending that I am wrapped in his arms as I slip into a fitful sleep. Waiting for the phone to ring. It never does. ******** It's Friday. Five o'clock. I watch Mulder pick up his briefcase and head for the door. "Good night," he says as he passes my desk. And then he is gone. Mulder has been punishing me all week with his near silence. We spent the week cooped up in the basement catching up on paperwork. He spoke to me only when necessary and then only with regard to work related topics. We didn't eat lunch together as he had "errands" to run every day. I watch the door swing shut behind him and lay my head down on the top of my desk. Hot tears drip onto the report that I had been halfheartedly working on. I spent the week with my remorseful silence, acknowledging his right to be hurt and angry. Now I'm growing tired of being on the receiving end of his silent treatment. I have been reluctant to push Mulder to talk about what happened until he was ready. Over the years I have learned that one thing Mulder and I have in common is that we talk when we are ready to talk and not a minute sooner. But this has gone on long enough. I need to try to explain what I was thinking when I took off with Spender and I need Mulder to understand and forgive me. Grabbing my purse, I hurry out the door before I can change my mind. ******* I use my key to let myself into Mulder's apartment. I don't trust him to answer the door once he knows it's me. The fading daylight is the only illumination in the room. It's almost spring and the days are growing longer but the shadows are deep and I can barely make out Mulder's face as he sits slumped on his couch. I reach for the lamp. "Don't," he warns. "Mulder, we need to talk and I want us to be able to see each other when we do." "Scully, just go home," he says tiredly. "I'm not ready to talk about this yet." I turn on the light anyway and settle on the other end of the sofa. "Mulder, please. I need to explain..." He cuts me off. "I just don't think I am ready to listen to you yet." "That's not fair," I say in a low voice. "I always gave you a chance to explain whenever you ran off without me." "I was wondering how long it would take you to bring that up," he laughed harshly. "Because it's true," I protest hotly. "I *always* gave you the opportunity to make it right--to make me see it from your point of view." I'm becoming angry now. "The only difference here is that at least you didn't have to wait by a hospital bed praying that I would wake up so that I could explain!" Mulder moves quickly and looms over me, using his body to push me deeper into the sofa cushions. "No," he grits out; "the difference is that now we are more than just partners and friends." "I owe you more consideration because now we're lovers?" My voice rises in pitch and I take a deep breath as I struggle for control. "Yes! In case it's escaped your notice I haven't run off without you since I told you that I loved you in Bermuda!" My mind races over the last year and I realize it's true. Still... "I don't know what you want me to..." "What I want you to say? To do?" he cries. "I'll tell you what I don't expect. I don't expect the woman I love to run off with my biggest fucking enemy! I don't expect her to work with him and I sure as hell don't expect her to come back here trying to defend her perceptions of his motives to me!" Mulder has launched himself to his feet and is pacing around the room now. He stops abruptly and spins toward me, pinning me with a wild stare. "I feel like...I don't even know who you are right now!" He closes his eyes and turns away, bracing himself against the doorjamb. But not before I see the look in his eyes. Betrayal and a deep sadness. And suddenly I know. Tears spring to my eyes and I fight to quell them. Mulder is helpless in the face of my tears. That is why I always fight not to cry in front of him. I know that Mulder thinks that I consider my tears to be a sign of weakness. The truth is that I've always known that the sight of me crying rips him apart. I struggle not to let them spill over my lashes as I raise my eyes to him. "I'll tell you who I'm not," I begin slowly. "I'm not Diana." Mulder inhales sharply and stares at me. "I understand the fear you were feeling, knowing who I was with and not being able to find me. And I understand the anger you felt when I went off without you. But I haven't betrayed you. I haven't gone to work with your greatest enemy. I've earned your trust time and again and I resent the implication that you can't trust me now." I stop, rubbing my hands across my knees. "You owe me better than that. And you owe me a chance to explain my motives." Mulder sinks tiredly onto the floor in front of me, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of my pants. "You're right. I'm sorry that I haven't given you the opportunity to explain. I'm just...I was just...God! I was so scared, knowing whom you were with. I kept trying to convince myself that you had your reasons, but after everything he's done, after everything that happened last Fall, I just...I'm sorry, Scully, I don't understand how you could believe anything he had to say!" I lean forward until my chin is hovering over my knees so that our eyes are level, as I desperately search for the right words. "For all the times that you followed him on the tiniest thread of information about Samantha, I wanted what he was telling me to be true every bit as much as you wanted to believe him then." "Why?" he asks softly. "Did you really think that he wanted to save the world with a cure for cancer?" I whisper so softly that Mulder can't hear me. "What?" he asks. "I didn't hear you." "I said I'm afraid. So afraid that the cancer will come back. That this chip in my neck will stop working. I don't want to die and leave you. I was counting on that disk containing the information that we could use to control the chip, to repair it if necessary. To understand how it works." I lower my forehead to my knees for a moment and then lift my head again. "I didn't care about the rest of the world, Mulder. I wanted that information to save myself. And if I could save the rest of the world in the bargain..." I drop my eyes and wrap my arms around my knees, rocking back and forth in shame. "Maybe in the long run, I'm no better than Spender." Mulder rises up on his knees and pushes my legs apart so that he can move between them. He pulls me to the edge of the sofa and wraps me in his arms so that our bodies are pressed tightly together. I can't hold the tears back any longer. "I'm sorry," I sob. "So, so sorry. I knew you'd be worried. I tried to take every precaution. Taping our conversations and mailing them to you. I just had to...I couldn't take the chance that he was telling the truth and walk away. I'm sorry. Oh God, Mulder, please. I'm so sorry." Mulder rocks me gently, waiting for the storm of my tears to subside. His shirt is soaked under my cheek and I work desperately to calm myself, hiccuping and drawing in deep, shuddering breaths. Finally, I lay weakly against him and Mulder buries his face in my hair. "I'm sorry too, Scully. You're so perfect to me, that sometimes I forget that you're as human as I am. That you make mistakes like everyone else. And so when you do something so out of character, it shakes me. It scares me. I've been unfair to you this last week. I've let my past color my perceptions and I judged you without giving you a chance to explain. I couldn't understand why I was so incredibly angry with you, but you're right. I was comparing you to Diana and for that I am terribly sorry." He lifts his head and smoothes the hair back from my wet cheeks. "But Scully, don't ever compare your motives to that bastard's. I understand your fear about the cancer because I live with it too. And I would have wanted that disk for the same reason. To save you first. And then the rest of the world could follow. It's selfish and it's human. You would never have kept the information for yourself. Don't beat yourself up." I smile shakily and nod. "I love you Mulder," I say softly as I press my lips to his. Mulder smiles against my mouth and swings me up in his arms. He carries me into his bedroom and sets me down on the edge of the bed. Kneeling between my legs once again, he captures my mouth in a gentle kiss. His lips rub over mine, quietly tasting me as his fingers quickly unbutton my blouse. He strips me of my clothes and then hurriedly tears off his own before sliding both of us under the blankets. Stretching out alongside me, his lips move to my cheeks and he sips at the tears that still dampen my face. His mouth roams over my cheeks and nose before settling over my lips again. He nibbles at the corners of my mouth, teasing me with tiny kisses. I thread my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and urge him closer. Finally, his mouth closes over mine and his tongue darts out to trace my lower lip. I moan and open to him and he deepens the kiss passionately. I want to make love to him. I want to draw him deep inside my body and keep him there forever. But I'm so tired and my body is growing heavy and lethargic. Mulder too is exhausted and after a few minutes he urges me onto my side. He wraps his arms around me tightly. Nudging my hair out of the way, he presses a warm, wet kiss to the scar on the back of my neck. "I love you, Scully," he whispers. "Please, don't ever leave me again." "I love you too, Mulder," I murmur and settle more comfortably into the mattress. Mulder frees an arm to rest on the pillow above my head, his fingers playing gently with my hair. His other hand cups one of my breasts possessively as he molds his body into the curve of mine. The room grows quiet as we drift off to sleep. There are many sounds of silence. We have been living in a silence of recrimination and fear for a week. Now we rest in the silence of forgiveness and love. The End Author's notes: OMG! Sap alert. Danger. Danger! Have you guys noticed that every story of mine ends up with them wrapped sleepily in each other's arms? I'd appreciate your feedback at tnv099@aol.com