Title: Intimate Things

Author: Andrea

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Through Closure

Category: MSR, S, A, Scully POV

Disclaimer: Don't belong to me, never have, never will.

Notes: Thank you Jemirah for being ready, willing, more than
able and for giving much needed moral support.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt my mattress move
beneath me. Heart pounding, I immediately scrambled for my gun.

"Scully, it's me."

"Jesus Christ, Mulder." I flopped back down onto the bed and
willed my heart to beat more slowly. "What are you doing in my
bed?"

"I'm sorry, Scully. I was trying not to startle you," he
apologized.

"Try knocking next time," I suggested.

"I didn't want to wake you," he explained.

"You didn't think crawling into my bed would wake me?" I laughed.

"I was hoping it wouldn't," he said softly.

"I'm a light sleeper, Mulder and you still haven't told me what
you're doing here."

"I had another nightmare."

My heart melted instantly. Instead of his nightmares receding
when the search for his sister ended, they had only worsened.
Only now they were centered around the horrors that Samantha had
suffered between the time she was abducted and when her diary
entries stopped. As it turned out, Mulder wasn't quite as free 
as he thought he would be.

"I'm sorry, Mulder." I rolled onto my side and felt for his hand. 
His hand had also been seeking mine and when he found mine
he held it gently.

"You didn't hear me calling you." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Mulder, I know that I said I'm a light sleeper, but I can't hear 
you in Alexandria."

"I know, Scully. I didn't mean that it was your fault. Since the
nightmares have gotten bad, the only sleep I get is when I know
that you are near by. When I manage to drift off to sleep at
home I always wake up in a cold sweat. My heart is always racing
and I think maybe I've been screaming," he finished quietly.

"Mulder, I'm really sorry that you've been having trouble
sleeping, but I don't think that scaring the crap out of me is
the solution."

"I know, Scully. My therapist says it will just take my
subconscious a while to work out of the conflicting information.
All of the stuff that I thought had happened to Samantha versus
what I just found out. Even though consciously I feel that
everything has been resolved, my subconscious is still fighting
to come to terms with it."

"Hence the nightmares." I finished for him.

The fact that he was in therapy relieved me, but I wondered why
he hadn't mentioned it before. Of course, I had never told him
about any of the counseling that I had sought, either. Wouldn't
want my partner to think that I was vulnerable.

"Let me understand what you're saying," I took a deep breath,
"You want me to be your security blanket until your subconscious 
has dealt with this?"

My hand fell to the bed. It lay where Mulder dropped it when he
left my bed.

"What are you doing, Mulder?" I reached out and turned on a lamp.

"I'm leaving," he answered tersely as he pulled on his jeans.

"Don't do this. Don't run away. I want to talk about this," I
pleaded with him.

"I don't." He had pulled on his T-shirt and was starting to put
on his shoes.

"God damn it, Mulder, we are going to talk about this. I have
feelings too, you know. You're just too damn self-centered to
realize that."

"That is pure crap, Scully. Every time I try to get you to open
up to me, you say that you're fine."

"When I say that I mean that I can handle it," I defended myself.

"I guess you're stronger than I am."

"I haven't been through as much as you have, Mulder and I do
have a support system."

He was fully dressed, but he hadn't moved any closer to the 
door.

"I know that you don't have anyone left but me, Mulder," I
continued, "And I never said that I wouldn't do this. I just
wanted you to realize exactly what you were asking me to do."

"You're my friend, Scully. Is it wrong to ask a friend for help?"

"Yes, I am your friend, but I'm not your only friend. Why didn't
you crawl into bed with Frohike?" I challenged him.

"We're not that close," he grimaced.

"But we are?" I ventured.

"I thought we were," his shoulders slumped as he answered.

"Okay, Mulder, who was your closest friend before me?"

"My roommate at Oxford," he told me.

"And when Phoebe left you feeling miserable, did you crawl into
bed with him?"

"No!"

"Mulder, can't you see where I'm going with this? What is it
about our friendship that makes you think that you can just
crawl into bed with me?"

"I guess I thought you loved me enough to help me through this."

"I do, Mulder and I don't remember saying that I wasn't willing 
to do this for you. In case you haven't noticed, I almost always
do what you ask of me and this won't be an exception. I'll do
whatever you need me to do because I love you that much. I just
want you to realize what you're asking of me."

"I'm asking for your help, Scully."

It was like banging my head against a brick wall. I couldn't say
no to him but he couldn't understand what I was getting at.
Maybe I was asking too much. He had been through hell recently
and with the sleep deprivation he was suffering he probably 
wasn't thinking very clearly.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I shouldn't be making a big deal out of this
right now. You can sleep here whenever you need to."

Heaving a big sigh of relief, he quickly stripped back down to
his boxers and slid back into bed with me. He sought out my hand
again and clung to it tightly.

"Thank you, Scully," he whispered.

His breathing slowed as he drifted off to sleep. Without letting
go of his hand, I reached over and turned out the light.

This was something I had never envisioned. I had often 
fantasized about having Mulder in my bed, but none of the 
fantasies had ever ended with him holding my hand while tears
streamed down my cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three months had passed since the night that Mulder had slid into
my bed and they had been the happiest three months of my life. He
hadn't slept at his apartment once. Surprisingly, Mulder had 
adapted quickly to my rules. He didn't leave the toilet seat up
or squeeze the toothpaste tube in the middle. He even helped with
the household chores and I was becoming attached to his pasta 
primavera.

We stayed in most nights, just watching TV. He went to the gym
after work three times a week and on those evenings I would visit 
my mother, do some shopping or try to tackle my horrendous
backlog of journal reading. But by nine o'clock we'd both be 
home, and we'd settle in to spend the rest of the night together.


Occasionally we went to a movie, but we both seemed more
comfortable sitting at home watching a video.

One evening, when I had lost interest in the sci-fi flick that
Mulder had picked, I began to think about what had brought him 
crawling into my bed in the first place. I realized in horror
that it had been over a month since he had woken up with a 
nightmare. My heart was fluttering in my chest. We had been
living in a sexless marriage for at least a month and apparently
neither of us had noticed.

I couldn't let it go on. I was happier than I had been in a long
time, but if I allowed this to continue I would be using Mulder
and I couldn't knowingly do that.

"Mulder, can we talk?" I interrupted his movie.

"Sure." He paused the tape.

"How have you been sleeping recently?"

"Great, but you know that. What's up?"

"When was the last time you had a nightmare," I inquired.

"You know, Scully, I don't remember. It's been a while."

"I thought so," I nodded, trying to smile. "That's great. What
does your therapist say?"

"That I won't be needing him much longer," he smiled.

"Do you realize what this means, Mulder?"

"It's finally over. I'm really free."

"That's true, Mulder and you have no idea how happy that makes
me, but I meant that it's time for you to go back to your own
place."

His eyes widened in surprise, but then he quickly agreed. "You're
right, Scully. I'm sorry I stayed so long. Why didn't you kick me
out sooner?"

"I guess I didn't notice that your nightmares had stopped," I
shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant.

By 11 o'clock Mulder had packed up his belongings and left. We
had said our 'see you tomorrows', I had closed the door and 
retreated to the corner of my couch. My cheeks were wet with 
tears as they had been three months earlier, but my heart ached
as it never had before.

I must have cried myself to sleep because I woke with a start,
still sitting in the corner of the couch, all of the lights
were still on. I heard a key in my lock and knew that it was this
that had woken me up.

Mulder was trying to come in quietly. He stopped in surprise when
he saw me.

"Did you forget something, Mulder?" My voice was hoarse. I hoped
he would think it was from sleep.

Nodding, he shut the door and walked over to the couch. Instead
of sitting beside me, he knelt down in front of me.

"What are you doing, Mulder?"

He put a finger to my lips, "Shhh. I want to tell you what I
forgot."

I nodded slowly.

"I forgot to say thank you, Scully."

"You didn't need to come back here in the middle of the night to
tell me that, Mulder," I smiled at him.

"That's not all," he informed me. "I forgot to say I'm sorry,
too."

"Sorry? What for?" I was confused.

"God, Scully, I don't know where to start. I'm sorry that I'm an
idiot. I'm sorry I made you cry," he said, bushing his thumb over
my cheek, instantly making me wonder what I looked like. "I'm 
sorry I wasn't strong enough to admit how I really felt. I'm 
sorry I made you ask me to leave. I'm sorry I took advantage of 
how much you love me."

He had picked up my hand and was caressing it gently. I wanted to
tell him not to worry about it, but I was too stunned to speak.

"I just want you to forgive me and let me come home again."

My heart skipped a beat. Home, he had said home.

"I love you, Scully and I want things to go back to how they
were."

"I'm sorry, Mulder, but I wasn't happy with the way things were."

His face fell, "You weren't?"

"You can only come back if certain things about our relationship
change."

"What things?" He looked wary.

"Intimate things," I said quietly.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, but he kept a
straight face. "You mean sex."

I nodded.

"Okay," he sighed. "How often?" He rolled his eyes.

I couldn't play act as well as he did. "We can negotiate," I
said, as a silly grin was spreading across my face.

He pursed his lips, "Well, my initial offer is three times."

"A week?" I snorted.

"No, tonight."

end