"Snapshot V:Discoveries" By Dawson E. Rambo Disclaimers: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and other tangentially mentioned characters are copyrighted by Chris Carter, TenThirteen productions, and by Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are reserved, and these characters were used without permission. No infringement is intended. Classification: V+,MSR,A Rating: PG (Some situations might not be suitable for all ages) Ok folks, this is part V in what is apparantly a never-ending saga. Anti-relationshippers be warned: There be Tygers here. No actual sex, but there are two instances of adult physical behavior, so be warned. MulderAngst. A small amount of ScullyAngst. Snuggle-Bunnies. Promises made, kisses stolen. Lemme know if I should keep this going. Part VI is already on the drawing pad,and when you see the ending to that part, you'll know that part VII is "The One" that the dozen or so people that have been writing me about this have been waiting for. Again, I hope you enjoy this. Dawson ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The bathroom started to fill with steam as Mulder slowly entered. He could see Scully's shadow moving behind the shower curtain, her form casting dancing figures of shadows and light against the translucent material. His eyes traced what he could see of her figure, the gentle slopes and curves, the way her hips gently flared, the narrowness of her waist. He could feel his heart throbbing in his temple...and elsewhere. "Mulder?" she asked. "Are you coming in or not?" The conversations they'd been having over the last several days came rushing back to him. In his mind he could hear her in his office, softly protesting that it couldn't happen now, that it wasn't the time. And later, other conversations as they gently kissed, slowly discovering more and more of each other. He could describe, in exacting detail, precisely how Dana's body felt against him. Her clothed body, that was. This new step, this exciting, dangerous new step, would tell him, and her, so much more. Every single pore and fiber of Mulder's body ached to join Dana behind that curtain, to drop his shorts and bound across the room, sliding under the hot water with her, taking the soap from her hands, gliding it up and down her back, her arms, her legs, the soft, silken expanse of her stomach, the heavy weight of her- Stop, Mulder thought, screwing his eyes shut. Stop it. Scully was right. Now is not the time. "Scully," he said softly, hoping she could hear him over the rushing water. "What is it, Mulder?" "Don't take this the wrong way -- but I don't want to take a shower with you." His statement was greeted by a long moment of silence. "I understand," she said quietly. "I'll be out in a minute." Mulder nodded, and then felt inane because he realized she couldn't see him. But she would know, he reminded himself. She would know. He turned and walked back to the living room, stopping and stooping to get his clothes. He dressed quickly, wanting a few minutes to regain his composure before she emerged, scrubbed clean and smelling like that shampoo she used that drove him slowly insane. Mulder sat on the couch, slowly chewing his lip. He was sure that there would be a day not too far away when he would mentally kick himself for making this most recent decision. She would know how badly he'd wanted to get in there with her, how much he wanted to discover all the secrets her body and soul held for him, how much he wanted to see her face as he discovered all her special places for the first time. There would be only one 'first' time, he knew, and it had to be special. Perfect. Ten minutes later, Scully emerged from the bathroom wearing the pink fuzzy bathrobe. She was rubbing a towel through her hair, her lips pursed as she studied Mulder sitting on the couch. She plopped down on the other end of the couch, not taking her eyes off of him. "Talk to me, Mulder." "It's not that I don't want-" "I know that part, Mulder." He paused. "I remembered what you said in the office, and then again, later. It has to be the right time...for the both of us. Rushing this...rushing what we have...I don't want to do that. It... means too much to me. To us. Does that make sense?" She grinned, flashing Mulder one of her famous heart-stopping smiles. "Perfect sense," she agreed. She scooted over on the couch to be closer to him. His hands were on his knees, and she reached down to take one in both of hers. His hand was clenched, with anxiety, panic, or some Mulderesque mixture of both of those emotions with a heapin' helpin' of guilt. He didn't need to say a single word; Dana knew him that well. He felt guilty that he'd to get into the shower with her, that he'd to do the things she herself had asked him, implicitly, to do. She shook her head softly, slowly. The only man in the world that has ever turned down an invitation to play WaterPark in my shower, and it be the man I'm in love with, Scully thought. She started massaging his hand, using her fingers to stroke the skin of his palm. She rubbed her thumb in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the muscles relax under her touch. She continued working his hand, moving to the fingers next, really kneading the skin, getting as much of the tension out as she could. Dana examined his hands, and tried to imagine what they would feel like on her body. How they would touch her, stroke her, send delicious shivery tickles of pleasure racing up and down her spine until they detonated in starbursts of pleasure from her core, expanding through her body like fireworks, each successive pleasure popping off in series until- It wasn't hard to imagine those hands on her body. It wasn't hard to imagine those hands anywhere on her body, touching her softly, grazing her skin, tracing tiny little circles at the small of her back. Dana had a sudden thought. "Mulder?" "Hmmm?" he asked. He'd leaned his head back against the couch to enjoy Dana's hand massage, and was just about asleep. "I have a favor to ask." Slowly, he opened his eyes, the lids flickering open heavily, his long lashes reminding Dana of butterfly's wings preparing to take flight. His hazel eyes found her blue ones, and she found herself falling into them again. "I think you should leave, Mulder," she whispered. "I want you to go home and spend the rest of the weekend by yourself." "That's your favor?" he asked. "No, Mulder...that's not my favor. Monday I'm going to be at Quantico, delivering that lecture on DNA typing for non-secreting suspects. You do remember that, right?" Sleepily, Mulder nodded. "Well, Tuesday, we each have a full day. You have an appointment at ten with the BSU folks, and I have one at noon with VICAP about that new computer profiling software they want to try out. But...what are you doing Tuesday night?" "Um...nothing, I think." He considered for a moment. "Are the Knicks playing?" "Mulder, I'm serious," Scully said, pulling on his hand. "I have a favor to ask." "What, Scully?" She paused. How to ask? "Umm..The District Physician's Association is having their annual fund-raising thingie Tuesday night. I was wondering if...that is, if you're not doing anything especially important...I was...well, wondering-" "Scully, are you asking me out on a date?" "Yes, Mulder," Scully admitted. "I'm asking you to escort me to the DPA banquet. Will you go with me?" Mulder considered for a long moment, but Scully already knew the answer. He hated the rubber-chicken circuit, and avoided most, if not all, official Bureau functions that centered around banquet halls and meals. But she had asked him, as a favor, and she knew he would accept. She hoped he would, anyway, because if he didn't, it would throw her plans for the next ninety seconds completely awry. "Of course, Scully. I'll even wear a tux." Dana smiled, knowing what she was about to do would blow Fox's mind. "Good," she whispered, moving closer to him, close enough to whisper in his ear, close enough so he could feel her breath on the small hairs on his neck. "Good, because I want you to get an emerald green cummerbund and bow-tie...I'm gonna be wearing an emerald green dress, Mulder. It's not especially sexy or anything, but I do want us to match." Mulder gulped again. Jesus God, he thought -- how could anything Dana wore be considered sexy?? "You got it, Scully. We'll talk about it later." He moved to get up, but Scully pulled him back down by his hand. "Not so fast, Mulder. There's one more thing...remember, in the office, when I said that it wasn't time yet...that we needed to be healed before we could go any further...?" "Yes," he whispered. "Well...I wish to amend my remarks...for the record." "Agent Scully has the floor," Mulder grinned,"...and my attention." "Good," Dana whispered even more softly. "Because I want to say that I think that you and I...this...us...is part of that healing process, Mulder. I said that we needed to find joy before we could proceed. In the last twenty-four hours I realized that you bring me joy...and I bring it to you. We have found joy...we've just been too afraid to embrace it. Too afraid of being split up if we cross that line, too afraid of what Skinner would have done if he'd found out that we're crazy about each other, what the FBI would do if they knew two of their best agents are playing snuggle-bunnies." She grinned at her own choice of words, and then went for the jugular. "Mulder... I don't just want you to take me to that banquet. I want you to take me home, afterwards...and I don't want you to leave." Mulder didn't miss a beat. "No problem. I can always crash on the couch." Scully had known it was coming, and for once in their partnership, she had the perfect response prepared, ready, waiting to go. "Fine, Mulder...if that's where you'd rather be." And with that, she took his hand and slid it inside her robe so quickly that Mulder didn't have a chance to stiffen and pull away. She pulled his hand against her breast, and closed his fingers around it. "While you're crashed out on the couch, Mulder, I'll be in the bedroom." She held his hand there for two long, heart-stopping seconds, and then stood, walking around the couch, heading towards her bedroom. "Go home, Mulder," she called over her shoulder. *** Mulder drove home in a daze. He glanced at the dashboard clock and saw that it was only two-thirty in the afternoon. He ran a hand through his hair, wondering what kind of an insane person Dana Scully had turned out to be. Not that insanity was a thing, oh no. At least, not this particular of insanity, he reminded himself. He took the hand out of his hair and flexed it, looking at it out of the corner of his eye as he did so. That was hand. The hand, to quote Jimi, that had touched the sky. God, he felt like a teenager who had gotten to second base for the first time. It was all strange and new and exciting and just a little dangerous. No, Mulder thought, slowing down to take a right turn, it was more than a little dangerous. Skinner had offered his unofficial protection, and despite his own personal doubts about the man's agenda, Skinner had never gone back on his word. At least, not yet. OK, pal, Mulder thought. Decision time. We're at a certain point. We can stay here, go back, or...take the plunge. Go all the way, to use a quaint expression that had been replaced by much more vulgar, much more descriptive terms in the vernacular of the kids. Could he...take that final step? Could they? Together? Mulder's face was blank as he let his mind wander. The nickname he'd earned while with the Violent Crimes Section of the BSU wasn't nearly as "Spooky" when you understood how it worked. Mulder didn't use voodoo or wiccan incantations or spells or magic potions. He hadn't even thrown darts at boards or flipped coins when he'd been with VICAP, as the VCS was more correctly known. He simply went into himself. He found something to concentrate on, something to center his energy and his focus on, and...dropped. It felt like that, sometimes, like the ground opening up and swallowing him whole. And when he was...there, "down the rabbit hole" as he liked to kid himself, he was freed from the linear requirements of his thinking, and free to use the spatial ability everyone's mind possessed. He was able to occupy all the infinite points of his considerable mind at the same instant. That was where the connections were made, was when he was at his spookiest. Mulder saw what he was looking for and pulled over to the curb. He reached into the glove compartment and found the small brown envelope. It wasn't sealed, and Mulder stuck it into his pocket, exiting the car and locking it behind him. The park was one of Virginia's more beautiful, with acres of grass and trees and picnic tables. The park was about half full, with clumps of people scattered here and there, some cooking on open grills, some playing softball, a group gathered here and there around a beer keg, laughing gently in the afternoon sunshine. Mulder found an empty picnic table as far from the other people as he could. He reached into his pocket and took out the small brown envelope. Inside was a crystal on a chain given to him Melissa Scully. He'd never worn it, but had found it useful for one specific purpose: Finding his center. He held it up to the light, letting the sun prism through it, until the infinite spectrum appeared. He chose a color at random, yellow this time, and followed it down. His eyes unfocused until the yellow beam became his entire world, and with a sudden mental thump, found himself dropping through the rabbit hole. *** There was no color here, Mulder knew. It was white...pure, snow-driven white all around. He had no body when he was here, no arms, no legs, no limbs to speak of. His consciousness just... on this plane, without the needs of a corporal body. His thoughts were free, unfettered, able to run and jump and laugh and play, free to find the connections, if they were out there. Free to do what they did best. Search the dark corners, most of the time, looking for connections between events best left unconsidered right now. He walked down a mental hallway. His photographic memory was, at times, a curse to him. When he was down the rabbit hole, he envisioned his memory as a huge room, filled with six-drawer filing cabinets, stacked three high, running down to infinity. They were all labeled, organized, double-checked and cross-indexed. He could see himself walking into that room, and approaching a cabinet. He pulled the drawer open and pulled a file out. The folder had no label, but he knew what was inside. He flipped it open and saw Dana's face staring back at him. It was his first mental image of her, and as he looked at it, it came to life, the mouth moving, the voice animated, the life coming into her stunning blue eyes. He replayed their first conversation. "Funny," he voice said, out of his vision, "I was under the impression that you were sent here to spy on me." The image began to speed up, her voice taking on the countenance of a chipmunk, the telltale squiggles of a videotape on fast-forward marring the bottom edge of the picture. Mulder didn't know why it happened this way; he only knew that down here, in the rabbit hole, there was nothing but memories and truth. The images flew by...a history of his relationship with Dana. Every single memory that Mulder had of her was reviewed, scanned, cherished and re-lived in the space between his heartbeats. When the tape was done, the image in Mulder's mental hand was that of Scully looking over her shoulder, dressed in the fuzzy pink bathrobe. "Go home, Mulder," her voice said. Mulder closed the folder and put it back in the drawer. He reached into the rear of the drawer and took out another folder. This folder was black. Even though there was no color in this place, only pure simple truth and logic, Mulder knew it was black, for he knew what it contained. Opening this folder, he saw the image of Duane Barry. The images this time were not like a video, but like a photo montage, a slide-show converted to video. The images changed with the rapidity of his increasing heartbeat. Donnie Pfaster. The Alien Bounty Hunter. That black-lunged-no-named-son-of-a-bitch. A parasitic frozen worm. All the monsters and evil bastards in his life...his and Scully's life...blinked by in less than a second. Mulder closed the folder, and a trash can appeared in his vision. He threw the folder at it, and it sailed like a paper airplane, carried on currents that didn't exist, until it fluttered into the can. With a blink! the can was gone. Mulder felt himself smile in the trance; he hadn't erased those memories. Such a thing was impossible, no matter what he had heard about brainwashing technique. The act of throwing the black folder away had been mostly symbolic. It was his way of... Finding joy. One last folder to check. He moved to the front of the room, to the top drawer on the first cabinet. He opened it, pulling the first folder out, and carefully, gently eased the cover open. Samantha. Staring back at him, her face frozen in time. Unlike the other memories, this folder wasn't cued up to start at the beginning. This one was the reverse of the others; it started with Mulder's last memory of Samantha, and when he pushed the mental PLAY button, that tape went backwards, slowly. He waited until the bright light vanished, until it was just the two of them in the house, the Stratego board on the floor, the TV blaring the hearings, and then he paused it. If she were there, Mulder would have asked Samantha's advice and blessing for what he was considering. But she was not, and he had dedicated his life to finding her, finding the truth. And for reasons that Mulder still could not fathom, Scully had decided to come along for the ride. He wanted to ask the picture a question, remembering the words of some poet from long ago: "A dream is a question the heart wants to ask." "Together," Mulder said to himself, inside the room, down that magical rabbit hole. "Together we'll find you, Samantha. We'll find the truth. I have help now. We have each other." The picture said nothing. Mulder smiled at it, shut the folder and replaced it in the drawer. He closed the door, and then concentrated on finding his way back- Up. With an almost audible pop! Mulder was back in the world. His arm ached from holding Melissa's crystal in the same position for so long. He glanced at his watch... he'd been under for about four minutes. Long enough to do what he'd come there to do. He replaced the crystal in its envelope, put the envelope in his pocket and started walking back to his car. For the first time in his life, Mulder whistled as he walked. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- END PART V Comments, etc, continue to be welcome: drambo@azstarnet.com