"The Fallout From Arcadia" By Ten kristena@ocean.com.au CATEGORY: S, A, MT, MSR, H RATING: NC-17 for sexual situations (First one without a co-writer to hide behind! Eeek!) SUMMARY: On the way back to the San Diego field office after "Arcadia", Mulder is involved in an accident. He wakes up believing that he and Scully are Mr & Mrs Rob Petrie... TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Everything up to and including "Arcadia". ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer stay intact. FEEDBACK: Love it. Brings joy to my world! NOTE: Since I'm Australian, spelling-wise I tend to stick to what I'm used to, ie 'colour', but convert more jarring-to-the-flow things like 'car boot' to 'car trunk'. THANKS TO: Gerry, Susanne Barringer and Debbie for all the help. Thanks to Suzanne Bickerstaffe for fascinating conversations on just how much I could compress Mulder's ventricles . This is 'Hollywood Amnesia', but it's so much more fun than 'real amnesia', and only the best is good enough for our boy! DEDICATION: To Frogdoggie - thanks for those great stories, honest editing, always-interesting conversations and for patiently answering questions about xf eps... My website for all my X-Files fanfiction, thanks to the wonderful Skyfox, is at: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Keep/1351 DISCLAIMER: The X-Files, the episodes referred to, Mulder and Scully and all other characters from the show belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be gained. Characters not recognised from the show are mine. The X-Files: "The Fallout From Arcadia" (1/5) By Ten, April/May 1999 San Diego County: Mulder and I drove out of The Falls at Arcadia in 'our' minivan, followed by the moving van that contained the set dressings of our undercover lives as Rob and Laura Petrie. Yes - Mulder and I in a minivan. Mulder and I wearing wedding rings. Not to mention acting happily married and of a social set that hides crimes just to have the perfect home. Very hard to picture. The rings were safely packed away in a suitcase in the back of the minivan now. I usually don't wear rings. When I took that one off I didn't feel wistful - it was just part of the whole costume that I was removing. But, strangely, as left I realized I was getting used to having that one on my finger. It felt odd not to be wearing it. I'd removed the ring when I changed out of my Laura clothes, then went through the house checking out what else needed to be packed up. I had found Mulder watching TV in the living room, back in his casual clothes, but still wearing his ring. Why was he still wearing it? Habit from his real marriage? Diana. Back in the late eighties. Ended in divorce after a year. When he finally told me last month that she was his ex- wife, it explained a lot of his behavior around her. He didn't say just why they broke up, but I know that a real marriage would be something that Mulder would take very seriously, and he was guilty that it hadn't worked out. His parents' divorce had put him through enough heartache. He would still see his attempt as a failure, even though I see it as a lucky escape for him. Out of Diana's clutches. Not that I'd tell him that. So I stood in our Arcadia living room and stared and he noticed and then took the Rob ring off with a chuckle, saying, "Well, it was nice while it lasted, wife." And now, that assignment was behind us, and as soon as we took care of some loose ends at the San Diego field office, we would fly back to D.C. "So, that was domestic life," Mulder said after a while on the road. "Hmmm." He had a thoughtful look, but didn't elaborate. And I didn't really want to draw him out on the discussion. Silence for a bit. Then Mulder asked, "Are you going to see Bill while we're here? Or..." "No. He's at sea at the moment. I'll phone Tara when we get back home. There's too much to do." "Well, I could -" "Mulder, I really don't want to see them." My tone asked him to please drop it. My family and I inhabit different worlds these days, even more so than usual, and I just can't muster up the energy to try connecting. Too many masks to put on, too many forced smiles to endure. "Oh. Well, what about...were you planning on going to..." He fumbled. Emily's grave. "No. Not this time." I didn't need to go there. She wasn't there anyway. Just sandbags. But I knew her spirit was safe. Beyond "Them" and their manipulations at last. That was enough. "Okay." More silence. More driving. We got off the interstate, into the streets of San Diego itself, traveling through the paved surrounds. Then the moving van honked behind us, and we saw it was signaling to pull in to a gas station. We pulled off and found that the driver wanted to check one of his tires, while the other two movers grabbed some cigarettes and a snack. Mulder had his inevitable stash of seeds, so he got out to stretch his legs and munch. I was about to follow the movers to the station when my partner put his arm around me in that Rob- way he'd been so gleeful in using over the last few days. "See you soon, honey." "Mulder, put that hand back where it belongs or I'll run over you with our van." "The thrill is gone..." He flashed me a look and wandered off. At the station, three kids came tumbling out the doors, followed by wearily automatic warnings from their harassed mother. I thought about them as I got the key to the ladies room. A relationship. Marriage. A family. Being touched. Mulder's voice saying, "My lovely wife, Laura." As we were heading for the bathrooms, James - one of the movers - asked if I wanted to go out on Friday night, catch a movie or something. I was flattered and he was a nice enough guy, but I turned him down politely. I was drying my hands and resigning myself to the fact that a relationship at the moment was impossible, when the sound of squealing brakes and a series of horrible crashing noises cut through the air, very close. Too close. Mulder. I raced out the door. Pandemonium. My eyes were drawn to a long dent along the side of the moving van. The driver reappeared from around the other side, looking stunned. The minivan appeared to be unscathed. There were black skid marks on the asphalt. A car was wrapped around a telephone pole about 500 feet away, and a woman was screaming to my right. Mulder - where's Mulder? my own mind screamed as I moved forward, assessing the scene, the path the out-of-control car had taken. Mulder? I was expecting to see him racing towards the car to check the driver and any passengers. It hadn't hit any of the gas pumps, fortunately... Mulder was lying on the ground. Hunched up in a crumpled heap. Motionless. He was next to the driver's side door of a parked station wagon. The wagon looked untouched. A woman was staring at him and screaming. My legs felt leaden as I ran. How could it be so far? I couldn't afford to be taken over by shock and fear. Mulder moved. Thank you, God. He's alive! Suddenly it seemed that Mulder had grown another head - a small head. It was a child. Mulder had been protecting a child. A little boy - HE was the one moving, struggling. The child howled, trapped under Mulder's dead - no! - weight. The sight of her son drove the woman from hysterics into action. She was closer than me, and surged forward and grabbed her boy, hauling him out from under Mulder before I could scream to her not to move him, that both their spines may be damaged. She clutched the boy to her and sank to her knees, rocking back and forth, murmuring a fragment of song over and over, a lullaby, as I reached Mulder at last. I gasped. His eyes were closed. There was blood. Blood was coming out of Mulder's nose and mouth. Oh God, is that from a local trauma - like him biting his tongue or hitting his nose - or a brain injury...? Because if it was a brain injury, then it was VERY serious. First things first - he was breathing. His heart was beating. I quickly looked over at the boy and his mother - she had him facing away, but he was clutching her around her neck and his howls sounded more upset than of actual pain. Back to Mulder - I checked his mouth to make sure he wasn't going to choke on any stray sunflower seeds or the blood, and found that most of the blood had come from a cut on his inner lip, not internal bleeding. But I couldn't be so sure about the nosebleed. Damn, where's my cell phone? In the minivan - James was beside me. "The station manager has called 911. The guy in the car's dead. No one else in the vehicle." "Check the little boy," I said. The mother started speaking, almost rambling, "Jason's okay, Jason's okay," to James, as if she wasn't going to accept any other answer, or even to let him look at the kid. "The man made sure he was okay. He's okay." Then she started rambling on about nights, or something. I did everything I could for Mulder as we waited, and I directed the movers and the station manager. Witnesses said that the boy had been right in the path of the careening car, then Mulder had rushed over and snatched him up. The car had clipped my partner on the left hip and thigh, sending him spinning against the station wagon. Even though it happened so fast, even when struck, Mulder had done his best to ensure that he took all the impacts, not the boy. Mulder's head had hit the station wagon - that would explain the bleeding nose and mouth, but it could still mean a bad enough head injury for brain damage... There was head trauma and I'm sure there was swelling to go with it. He wasn't responding at all. I sat there, hearing the sirens getting closer and closer, and listening to that poor woman keep rambling, and the ridiculous thought struck me that all this had happened because I wasn't wearing my cross - it was at home, safe in my apartment. It wouldn't have matched Laura's 'image'. Finally, the ambulances came. The EMTs concurred with my diagnosis of brain swelling, though we would have to get scans done at the hospital to know for sure, and the extent. "Right, let's get him in," one said. "I'm riding with you." "Are you his partner?" "Yes, I'm his partner!" I knew they meant partner of a slightly different kind, but at the time I didn't really care. Hell, I would have threatened them with my gun if my pleas or ID didn't work. And I've been mistaken for his wife often enough before, especially in emergency situations. The ambulance ride was surreal. He started to move and make noises. I was relieved that he was showing signs of regaining consciousness, but something didn't seem right. Something WASN'T. He was seizing. Grand mal. Mulder was seizing. It wasn't fair. I flashed back to his episodes while on ketamine about two years ago in Rhode Island. Fortunately the seizures had abated as the ketamine left his system, and he was found not to be epileptic and restored to field agent status. Luckily. But this time it wasn't a result of him ditching me to race off to get holes drilled in his head...he'd been unselfishly trying to save a child's life. Seizures are to be expected when the brain is swollen, I told myself as I rode out each convulsion with him, listening to his gurgles and grunts, touching him as much as I could under the circumstances. Seizures are common, especially when swelling is at its worse, before treatment. What's important is that he NOT have any once the swelling goes down. He'll be okay. You'll be okay, Mulder. My voice echoed in my head. *Mulder, put that hand back where it belongs or I'll run over you with our van.* Oh God. Mulder, I'm sorry... His hand did belong at my back, keeping me upright through all that we'd endured. And if it were no longer there, if he died... He kept seizing and didn't stop until we got him into the ER and they pumped him full of sedatives to stop the seizures and to induce a coma. Next up came a round of steroids and Mannitol to help 'dry out' his brain and reduce the inflammation caused by the trauma. Then came all the scans and tests. Afterwards, wrung out, I phoned Skinner. He wanted all the details: "MRI, CAT scan..." I recited. "And they're keeping an eye on his femur, which took the impact of the car clipping him. By miracle, the femur isn't broken, but there are severe and extensive contusions to the muscle tissue - Mulder has lost about two units of blood because of it." "How bad is that - did he need surgery or transfusions?" "Fortunately the bleeding was from some small blood vessels that had been crushed, not a severed artery or major vein, and it did stop, so there was no need for surgery. The blood is 'lost' as bruising. So at the moment his thigh is very swollen and discolored, and we need to monitor it to make sure that the swelling doesn't cut off his circulation." He'd almost lost his leg on a dock in North Carolina. He was not going to get a peg leg this time either. I continued, "Also, the MRI and CT showed that the swelling is compressing the ventricles in his brain." "How bad is that?" "Ventricles are just spaces - nothing much goes on with them. Compression of them just gives a fair indication of intracranial pressure. Fortunately they're not completely compressed, but the doctors still want the swelling to go down as soon as possible." But for now... Even when the sedatives wore off and no more seizing had occurred, Mulder still remained in a coma. I hadn't mentioned the seizures to Skinner yet. I was worried about the possibility of post-traumatic epilepsy, which would wash him out of the FBI for sure - his little ketamine trips had come close enough on that count. When the swelling of the brain went down and he was better, we would give him an EEG to check out his seizure potential, to prove - I hoped - that there was no chance of it happening again. I thought about how I'd reacted every time that Mulder had touched me during this case; how I'd avoided his kiss when Cami and I went to walk her dog; how I'd tossed Mulder out onto the too-small sofa when we had a king- sized bed and how I'd felt guilty about it even though it's what we'd agreed on earlier and he usually sleeps on a couch anyway; how he couldn't resist dumping our cover histories to turn me into his dream New Ager girl; how he lay there protecting that boy... How I may never have the chance ever again of a kiss or a touch or being in his arms in bed. *Laura, we're married now.* It took four days for the meds to work, preventing fluid from building up in his brain and adding to the swelling, and reducing the inflammation caused by the trauma. He didn't open his eyes once during that time. But we did have a few visitors... I ran my fingers gently up and down Mulder's hand, every minute or so broadening my range to take in a sweep up his forearm. Then back down, soothing over the hairs. I was so focused that it took me a little to realize the noise I kept hearing in the background was a soft knocking. I turned in my chair. Cami Shroeder's timid face was framed in the door's strip window. In my surprise I pulled my hand away from Mulder's and immediately the action made me feel divided: I wanted to keep touching him to let him know that I was there; but there was also the worry of having a stranger see my intimacy towards him - it's different with the nursing staff - even a stranger who had thought we were husband and wife. I was so used to hiding it. Or avoiding it. Air kiss. A stupid air kiss. Cami entered at my gesture. She was carrying a bouquet of flowers. All looked perfect, naturally. "Hi Laura - um, Dana..." she stammered. "I read in the newspaper about what happened. I hope it's all right for me to come here." "I appreciate it, Cami. Thank you." The authorities were still deciding whether to charge her husband, Win, over what had happened during our stay in Arcadia: over his possible role in the attack on Big Mike, destroying evidence, or withholding information... Then again, the whole community could be up on charges if that was the case. Cami came up to the bedside and looked at my partner, swallowing at the machines and his still face. "How is he?" "The swelling is gradually going down. We'll just have to see." She was looking at me in a fresh light - not fellow housewife, but knowing my real occupation and trying to reconcile the two. Not having much luck by the look of it, because she started chatting about how our aborted "reflecting pool" was on its way back to being a lawn again and the menu she was planning for a dinner party. I tried not to let my eyes glaze over. I know she was nervous, but I don't think we really had that much in common to talk about. Scruffy was fine. The house was fine. Everything was fine. Well, that's one word we had in common. She told me about Mulder's lone flamingo war. The thought of that single flamingo stuck out in the lawn made me want to laugh - typical Mulder - even as I felt sad. Flamingos are always in pairs. "When he wakes up...thank him for stopping that creature." I wondered why they kept living there even with a monster on their doorstep. Were the taxes and the weather that good? Cami was halfway out the door when she said, "Um, Agent Scully? The two of you... So...I mean...he's not really your husband?" "No." She was bewildered. "He didn't really fit into the community, but the two of you together... You mean you weren't...not even...?" "We're just work partners." "You could have fooled me." She blushed and gave a nervous laugh. "Well, I guess you did. Goodbye." As she exited, I realized that my hand was back over Mulder's, unconsciously stroking, and I had probably been doing that for most of our conversation. Could have fooled me. I think I'm fooling myself... Another knock at the door. The woman was vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place from where. "Hello?" I said. "Agent Scully? I'm Marcy Bennit - your partner saved my son." She fitted in place in my mind. "Yes, come in please." "I just had to come and thank you. Yes, Jason's fine." She was carrying flowers - a pretty arrangement I wasn't surprised to find out later was from her own garden. It didn't look artificial. Or too perfect. "Oh," she whispered when she saw Mulder. "Oh, the poor man. I'm so sorry." "It wasn't your fault. The driver of the other car was intoxicated and lost control. It's not like your son was out on the roadway. Mulder swore an oath to serve and protect the public - but even if he wasn't an agent, he still would have raced to protect anyone in danger. It's just the way he is." She kept staring down. "We were just heading back to the car, Jason ran ahead - but it was clear; there was nothing. It was just in the parking lot, no one else was moving, then this car came in like a pinball... Jason was...then your partner was there...and then they were both on the ground..." Upset, she squeezed both Mulder's and my hands. "I'm so sorry I moved him to get to J. I just didn't think..." "It was understandable in the circumstances. He's getting better," I assured her. "When he is, we'll come to thank him. I forgot to bring a picture that Jason drew for him. Agent Mulder was just like a knight. He was Jason's armor - took all the blows for him." She shrugged self-consciously at her imagery. "I study history." We hugged as she left. Then Mulder and I were alone again. Hey, Mulder, you're a hero. Wake up so you can appreciate it and be appreciated, huh? The FBI press department were fielding reporters and doing all the PR, saving me having to waste time away from his side. I was glad that Bill was out to sea. Dealing with Tara was enough, because although I love my sister-in-law, I don't really have a connection with her. And she was even more uncertain around me than Cami had been - poor Dana stuck at the hospital once again. Always there either as a patient or tending to someone... Ms Tragedy for about six consecutive years running. But Tara did make sure I ate and brought me fresh clothes and sent me to my motel to sleep every so often. Mulder woke up on the fifth day. His eyes opened and I leaned over him and he looked at me and smiled that smile that I live for - that special, rare gaze that is for me alone and shows his true feelings. He was all right. Thank you, God. Then he opened his mouth and whispered, "Laura..." XxX Laura. He called me Laura. I gave a nervous little laugh. A joke. Mulder was just joking. "It's me," I said. He gave a fuzzy little grin right back at me. "I know it's you, honey. Where am I?" Dr Fredricks and I exchanged concerned glances. Wait! I thought. I know what's happening. It's okay! I squeezed my partner's hand reassuringly. "Mulder, there was an accident and you're in the hospital. You're okay, and so is the little boy that you saved. We're not in Arcadia anymore; you don't have to keep up our cover. The case is over." Mulder gave me a confused look. "Laura, what are you talking about?" he asked. His voice may have been faint, but his sense of alarm was on the rise. "What case?" I said to the doctor, "He's just a little muddled. He's just using our undercover names as protection." "Sir, could you please tell me your name?" "Rob Petrie..." Mulder's voice was tired and hoarse, but certain. Ohhhh damn. "Do you know where you are?" "A hospital...I guess..." "Do you know how you got here?" "No. Laura, what happened? Please?" He was getting alarmed, and the pain from his head and femur were beginning to register on his radar. And on the blood pressure monitor. "It's all right, M-" My voice caught. His blood pressure was on the rise. The doctor summoned a nurse to give him a painkiller. A sedative was a no-no because it would mask his neuro signs. Saying 'Mulder' would make things worse, though he had been too panicked to notice the first time it slipped out. But 'Rob' just didn't sound right to me. "It's okay, honey." THAT didn't sound much better, but my options were limited. "Just relax and sleep. Everything will be fine when you wake up." I convinced myself of that. Some more sleep and he'd wake up all present and correct. Mulder fell asleep before painkiller arrived. "It'll pass," I told the doctor lamely. He did not look convinced. NEXT DAY: "Name?" "Rob Petrie." Dr Fredricks looked at me and kept asking the questions. "Middle name?" Mulder thought for a long moment. "Fox...no, William! Why all the questions?" "We're concerned about the head injury you received, and you seem to be showing signs of amnesia." "Amnesia? What makes you think that? I know who I am!" He got the president right and the year and the month. We didn't expect him to know the date but asked anyway, and he had no idea on that question or on how he'd ended up in the hospital. "And do you know who this woman is?" The doctor pointed to me. Mulder laughed. He had reached for my hand the second he'd opened his eyes. The moment he'd started playing with my fingers in front of the doctor, I knew that Rob was in residence even before the questions began. "Of course I can recognize my own wife. Hi, my lovely Laura. Got a kiss for your husband? Sure make me feel better..." "Mulder, I -" slipped out before I could stop myself. He frowned. "'Mulder'?" He gave that inward look he always has when searching his memory. I wondered what he was turning up. I held my breath. "Her idea of a pet name for me," he told the doctor. I was alarmed. Mulder and Rob really had fused in his brain... Mulder gave Fredricks a grin. "She's not one for soppy names." Then he turned to me again, that for-Scully-only look on his face - only there was no rationing or hiding of it from other people. He was wearing it like a banner. I swallowed. "M - er, Rob, do you know where you live?" "With you, silly." He gave our address in Arcadia. "What about apartment 42, Hegal Place, Alexandria?" "That was my bachelor pad. Before we got married." "And how long have we been married?" How could a look both worry and turn me on at the same time? "We're newlyweds. But we've known each other for years." His thumb had worked its way into the indentation of my palm and was rubbing around, and back and forth... Oh, Mulder, stop that...don't stop that...stop that, please... "And what do you do for a living?" I managed to ask. "I work from home...as an FBI agent." Thank God he'd remembered something! And even he seemed puzzled at how he could work from home AND be an agent. The doctor was taking notes. I decided to see how Mulder would react to a slight reality check. "Yes, yes, you are an FBI agent, but -" Suddenly Mulder's blood pressure started climbing. He pulled his hand out of mine and stared at it in alarm. "My ring! Laura, where's my wedding ring? Don't tell me I've lost it? What have they done with it?" He sat up, despite the pain in his thigh and probably the headache he had, and looked at the tops of the over-the-bed table and bedside stand. "Where is it?" I raised my hand to calm him, then hastily dropped it out of his sight. If his lack of ring was enough to have this effect on him, how would he be at seeing my own bare left hand? "Mulder, it's okay." I soothed him with my right hand. "They just had to take it off because of the tests - all jewelry had to be taken off." He wasn't happy about it though. His BP hadn't calmed any and sweat had broken out on his face. I couldn't get him to settle back against the pillow. "It's at the hotel, safe and sound. I'll go and bring it back while you're having a rest, okay?" He nodded fretfully. I DID still have the rings at the hotel. They had been in the minivan instead of the moving van - less chance of being misplaced. I put "Laura's" back on and stared at it. The doctor and I had agreed for now to go along with Mulder's beliefs, but to gently slip in reminders about his real life and see what stuck. An EEG had been done this morning and there was no sign of post traumatic epilepsy. As I explained to Skinner, a doctor can tell if the tendency is there - the EEG results will show a more pointed, spiky waveform in the area of the brain that corresponds with the injured portion. And things that may bring on a seizure are performed during the test: flashing lights, reading, sleep, to see how the brain's electrical activity responds. But more tests would be needed for conclusive proof. Dr Fredricks was going to get him an appointment with the hospital shrink, to see if the amnesia was possibly hysterical in nature - psychological instead of physical. Skinner rang, apologizing if he was disturbing me from 'much-needed' rest. He wanted a progress report on Mulder's condition. I'd spoken to him yesterday, but not mentioned Mulder's little 'lapse', hoping it was just temporary. But this time there was no avoiding it. "Mulder woke up again today and seems fine...except...he thinks we're Rob and Laura Petrie." Silence. "Sir?" "He thinks you're married?" "Yes, sir. The amnesia shouldn't last long." I knew what our boss was thinking - what IS it with Mulder? Supposed to be having a weekend off, then takes me into a hurricane chasing monsters; supposed to be in a crime prevention meeting, ducks to the bank, walks into a robbery; then on his first case back on the x-files, he gets amnesia. "Good luck dealing with him, Scully. You handle him like you're married to him anyway..." Oh Lord. I'd have had less of a sinking feeling about that remark if the name 'Mel Cooley' hadn't jumped into my head. Somehow, associating our boss with Rob Petrie's bald-headed, spectacled boss on 'The Dick Van Dyke Show' made me profoundly uncomfortable. I returned to the hospital and Mulder woke up an hour or so later. As I helped him raise the head of the bed so he could sit, he seemed more alert. He was after the ring...but first he was after a kiss. "C'mere, honey." His arms encircled me eagerly, and he brought his face to mine, a few inches away from touching our lips together - No! Not like this! Frantically I wriggled. "Mulder, please, let me go!" He dropped his arms and his smile immediately. I stepped back, gathered myself, then reached out to touch his hand. Hands were safer. "Mulder, I didn't mean -" He pulled his hand back and moved his whole body towards the other side of the bed, wincing as he moved his left leg. "Mulder, please try to understand -" "What? That you can't seem to stand me? Your own husband? You haven't even kissed me since I ended up in here!" I wanted to explain everything, but he wasn't ready yet. Perhaps just some of the truth. "Mulder, things have been a bit stressful lately. You nearly died due to that drunk driver...right before my eyes...and it's been hard to deal with how close I came to losing you." His eyes softened. "But you didn't lose me. I'm here." "I know. I just have to adjust to that. And if I kissed you...Mulder, we wouldn't be able to stop at one kiss, and this is a public place." I gave what I hoped was a sultry grin. "That's true," he said thoughtfully. Then he gave a completely wicked little grin. "But being in a public place has never stopped us before, has it?" Excuse me? What on earth was he thinking of? "Um, well... You're recovering from a head injury, and the doctor doesn't want your intracranial pressure increasing. So, no kissing, partner. Sorry." He pouted. "Oh, all right... How long until I can get out of here and get you into bed, honey?" My mouth moved several times without sound. "It's been, what, over a week now? I know you; you're wanting it as much as me." He winked. He wasn't joking. I sat down as it was clear that my jelly legs were ceasing to remain supportive, and groped for a subject change. "Oh! I brought your ring..." I fumbled in the bag, and my hand was shaking as I held it up. Mulder had moved closer to me. He didn't move to take the ring, so I had to put it on him, which was probably his plan. He smiled as I put the ring back on the appropriate finger. With this ring, I thee wed... "Mulder, um...can you remember our wedding?" The awful thought struck me that he'd fuse it with marrying Diana. He thought for a while. "No, I can't. But the doctor said I had amnesia, right? It'll come back. And at least I hadn't forgotten you, huh?" I gave a giggle that sounded terribly fake, but he didn't notice. "And you can bring me the photos." He reached out and took my hand again. He frowned at my lack of response. "Laura, you've really been acting strange for the last few days. Did I do something to upset you? Something before the accident? If I did, I'm sorry..." "No..." "The flamingo? The toilet seat?" "No." He got that 'I'm thinking' look again. "When we moved to Arcadia...almost every time I touched you, you'd stiffen up. You...you didn't want me touching you. Laura, why? That was BEFORE the accident! You made me sleep on the sofa... Are you having an affair? That guy in the moving van seemed to be -" "No! Mulder, I'm not having an affair. There's no one but you. There hasn't been anyone but you for six years." At least that was true. Is that why I'd turned down James, without even realizing it? My partner let the subject drop. Reluctantly. Mulder had his appointment with the in-house shrink, Dr Carmen Brenelle. Because of his injuries, she did a 'room call' instead of him going to her office. I waited outside Mulder's room. Eventually Dr. Brenelle came out with a stunned look on her face. "Well?" I asked. "The poor man definitely has hysterical amnesia! I mean, he was so sure that you two are husband and wife... He went into such detail that he almost convinced ME!" I wanted to ask "What detail?" but kept my mouth shut. I knew I could ask, since I held Mulder's Medical Power of Attorney, but I didn't want to intrude on his thoughts. Not that I wasn't curious. Had he told her about our near- kiss in the hallway? Of his drugged 'oh brother'? Of how tenderly he held me when I had cancer? "But then I asked him about his unresolved problems and...he gave me plenty. Started out normal enough - dysfunctional family, then into his missing sister, THEN...aliens, clones, spaceships in the Antarctic, plagues, conspiracies... It's obvious that the poor man has a very vivid imagination and has mixed it all in. I'm sorry, I know this doesn't sound at all professional, but I've never seen anyone as screwed up as your partner!" I couldn't help laughing. It was just as well that Dr Brenelle thought Mulder's tales were mere fantasy - safer for both of them. Mulder usually didn't spill to shrinks like that though - Dr. Werber is the only one I can think of. My partner is a psychologist, after all, and was expert at telling the obligatory shrink at the FBI exactly enough to satisfy him or her and halt further probing. He looked even better the next day, and I was very conscious of the fact that time was getting nearer for his discharge, so I decided to risk bursting Perfectville for him again. I said I was going to say some names, and get him to see what he could remember. "Scully." "Your maiden name." "Dana." He shrugged. "Your middle name or someone? Your sister?" "Bill Scully Jr." "Brother in law from hell." I blushed. Ever since Mulder had woken up, I'd kept Tara away, because I hadn't told her about the case or Mulder's current mindset. This was one of the last things I wanted blabbed to Bill. He'd be trapped on the ship, fuming away for weeks or months, exaggerating everything in his mind, then storm off at the first opportunity and want to take Mulder apart. Hiding things from my family was nothing new - I'd been like that even before I kept my cancer from my brothers and even before I was partnered with Mulder. I continued with the test. "Fox William Mulder." Mulder struggled with this for a moment, then said, "My father?" but was uncertain. "Queequeg." "Overgrown furry rat that got all your attention." "The Lone Gunmen." "Great buds." "Samantha." "My sister." "Where is she?" "Missing. Aliens." Yep, this was definitely a Mulder/Rob merge. "Cancerman." "Bastard." "Spender." "Jerk." "Diana." "Mistake." "Past or present mistake?" He looked at me in surprise. "I haven't cheated on you with her. Ever since I realized I loved you, I've never been with anyone else." My heart swelled in my chest at that, and I wanted to cry. He thought Emily was our dead daughter - and I suppose he could be right about that, but that's too much to think about right now - and he could recall our foes from past cases. The main memory block was that he thought we were married. And that our names were Rob and Laura Petrie. To him we were married FBI agent partners who investigated the paranormal...while living in sunny Falls at Arcadia, blissfully happy. It was too much for me. I struggled to control the tears, but I wasn't successful. "Laura, what's wrong? Why are you so upset?" "Mulder - your real name IS Mulder. It isn't Rob Petrie. We were undercover in Arcadia, investigating strange disappearances there. We don't live there!" I thought about our case in Home and how Mulder wanted to live in a small town one day. To settle down. Life beyond the FBI. "We were posing as a married couple. My name is Dana Scully! Please remember!" His "What?" was more of an 'oh come on!' laugh than a word. "Mulder, think about it. Why on earth would we have lived in Arcadia? You hated it there." "I didn't like it that much, yeah. It was too conformist and constricting. No basketball hoop! But you did. You loved the order. I could see it. I'll apologize for the flamingo and the mail box and the pool - I'll do better to fit in. I promise. If that's where you want to live, I'll change." Fox Mulder saying he would change - for me? How much of this was Rob talking, and could I interest him in setting up permanent residence in a percentage of Mulder's brain? I gave myself a mental kick and got back to business. "We weren't living there. It wasn't our house. Remember - you made up the cover story of digging a reflecting pool because you thought the bodies of the former occupants were buried in the front yard. We were undercover." I showed him his badge. I showed him my badge. "Scully. SCULLY - Mulder, please try to remember that." To humor me, he tried. And I saw when the memories clicked back into place. I could practically hear all of the times he had yelled or said "Scully!" as they echoed in his head, all the times I'd said "Mulder, it's me". All the times we'd introduced ourselves to people. His shoulders sagged. "Oh." "It's okay, Mulder. You've had quite a shock. But it's okay now." "We're FBI agents," he said with certainty. "We're Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, and we don't live in Arcadia. We were just there to investigate a crime." "Yes, yes, that's right, Mulder." I smiled in relief. "But we're still married," he said firmly. XxX "Mulder, we're not married." "You're my wife." His conviction was admirable, but I could see he was on the edge of a major explosion of anger. He'd gone through enough revelations for one day. "Um, I think you need some rest, okay?" He turned away from me painfully to lie on his right side, drilling a hole through the window with his gaze. "We're married," he repeated in a 'that's the end of the matter' tone. "We're MARRIED." As I slipped out the door, I reflected that we were certainly fighting like we were married. In fact, we always had. Mulder was sitting up, waiting for me. He had that 'I'm set in my beliefs - in stone' expression. I held back a sigh. Tomorrow, providing all was well, he would be discharged. And if he still thought we were married... It opened up a huge can of worms. Before I could say anything, he leapt in with a grudging: "Okay, we MAY NOT be married; I guess there's a rule against it somewhere, and that would explain why I can't remember the wedding, but you can't tell me that we're not lovers." He folded his arms and his eyes dared me to deny it. "Mulder..." I said gently. "We've never even properly kissed." Ouch. This time I'd really hurt him. He sat forward. "How can you say that? What do you mean 'never kissed'? And I'M supposed to be the one with amnesia?" I opened my mouth...and Mulder went into a whole catalog of intimate detail on our private relationship. Our sex life. Together. I stood there, stunned, wondering where on earth this was coming from. He was going on and on, about wonderful encounters, tender lovemaking, bed-breaking sex...all between the two of us. How *I* liked it. How *he* liked it. How WE liked it. He wasn't being crude or smutty - he was stating facts that meant a great deal to him. But where on earth had he gotten these facts FROM? This sure didn't sound like his videos. He described in vivid detail how my face looks when he's in me, when I'm about to come. How I smile when he's kissing me, the changes my expression goes through depending on where his mouth is. The little spots that make me buck and shiver. Reverently he gave places, our positions, what I was wearing - or not wearing... The detail was threatening to overwhelm me. Mulder telling me how he touches me...just there...and there, and oh...there... My breathing quickened. It felt like I was wearing thermal clothing in a desert at noon in high summer. I was hot, and there was only one person I wanted to put out the fire. Or was it STOKE the fire? I tried to ground myself with the facts - I was in a hospital room and we weren't even touching, but his voice, those words and the images he was building in my mind... Then I realized and nearly bolted. These were Mulder's fantasies. His private fantasies of us together. His yearnings. But thanks to the accident, he could no longer separate what was real and what was made up. And it was too late to make him stop, to preserve the flights of his imagination. I wanted to run out of the room screaming in fright, but I also wanted to sing with giddy, off-key joy that he thought of ME in that way, even if I wasn't a New Age dream girl. And it wasn't just sexual fantasies either. He gave me other 'memories' too. Of lying and holding for as long as we desired; of sharing meals and not having to mention work once; of talking and talking about everything - being open. You've GOT to be kidding, I thought when he mentioned the last. Then I nearly cried. This was his ideal of us and how he wanted things to be. Uh oh. How was HE going to feel when he realized what he'd revealed to me? "We're lovers, Scully," he told me with quiet desperation, wondering how I could deny it, his eyes plaintive. Lovers. COULD I deny that? How does one, after all, define lovers? By sex, by feelings, by actions, by word, by deed? In all ways but one, he was my lover. The physical. Not that I was dismissing all the touches and hand holds and hugs and those forehead kisses...but they had usually been after one or both of us were traumatized. Lovers shouldn't need trauma to allow them permission to touch and be touched. But if the lovers are scared and if the lovers are work partners and in the sort of danger that we are in, then during trauma is all they can allow themselves. My answer was silence. Mulder still couldn't remember the accident, but that was normal. Of course, the last thing he COULD recall was me threatening to run over him with the van... "We'll be flying home tomorrow, sir, providing all goes well," I told Skinner on the phone. "He's allowed to fly so soon after hospitalization for head trauma?" Skinner asked, then kept speaking before I could answer. "I'm sorry, Scully. I don't mean to imply that you'd be LETTING him do anything that would put him in at risk." "That's all right, sir. I understand your concern. If his intracranial pressure was still elevated, the doctors and I wouldn't let him out of the hospital. Dr Fredricks has had several EEGs performed. The waveforms were normal in all areas of the brain during the tests, so the chances are good - though not 100% proof - that there will be no more seizures." I explained that was enough to get him a doctor's release so we could fly home. "We'll have some follow up EEGs done in D.C. just to check, but in the absence of any further seizing and with further normal readings, it will be assumed the seizures were only a temporary result of the initial injury and swelling and he will be 100% fit for duty." "What about the chances of flight causing seizures?" "As long as the plane cabin remains at the proper pressure, there won't be any problem, and probably no problem even if it didn't. I'll be carrying my med bag as hand luggage and I'll have some Valium and Phenobarb in it just on the remote chance of it occurring. And if you can finalize my applications for vacation time, I'll be keeping an eye on him for the next week or so." "Will do, Agent Scully. Have a good trip." Time for Mulder to be discharged. He was still wearing the ring, despite having accepted that we weren't married, and I had been at a loss as to whether to remove mine or not. I decided to keep it on until he got his memory fully back. I didn't want the chance of him relapsing and having a stroke or seizure because my hand was bare. I had brought along his usual clothes several days beforehand - not his Rob clothes - and stored them in his locker. I fetched them out for him after the doctor gave him the final all clear. Mulder stared at the grey t-shirt. "This feels right...but it doesn't..." He stared at the chest of the t-shirt as if he expected to see an alligator emblem suddenly appear. I'd brought along sweatpants instead of jeans - easier for him to change in and out of, and to wear, with a swollen and painful thigh. I still helped him get dressed, and he certainly wasn't self-conscious about it. As if we always got dressed in front of each other. Well, he did have to dress me in Antarctica, but I wasn't exactly conscious for that. I tried not to look, which resulted in some comic fumbling and me brushing something I shouldn't have - his bruised thigh. "Ouch!" "Sorry..." "Dana, if you're that eager to touch me, aim a little higher, huh?" Mulder grinned. "What's with you?" he ribbed. "Why aren't you looking at me? Kind of makes this hard." I wasn't sure if that was innuendo or not and I wasn't going to check. "It's too...overwhelming for me, Mulder. Remember the rule, not on hospital grounds." Dana, that rule is at the end of its lifespan... And just what is he going to try when he gets you alone when you're both out of here. I shuddered to think. Half a pleasant shudder, come to think of it... Stop it! "So, I'm all for going straight to the nearest motel!" Mulder said with glee. "Mulder." I sighed. "I explained this to you before; we have a doctor's release that says you're fit enough to travel, so we're heading to the airport. To fly home. To D.C. If you feel sick or tired or funny at any time, tell me so we can go to a motel instead. Where you will REST." Well, if he complained of any of the above, I'd first bundle him into the nearest hospital. He smiled and shrugged. "Guess I can't get up to much with my leg like this anyway..." I waited for him to make some suggestive remark that I do all the work while he just laid back and enjoyed the view, but he didn't. He knew I was uncomfortable about his closeness, but he was having a hard time accepting that, because, to him, I was his lover. And it was quite the physical relationship... Just thinking about some of the scenarios he told me about... Finally, he was dressed. I made sure that Mulder had taken his latest round of pain meds, then helped ease him into the wheelchair to make the trip out to our taxi. "Oooooh," Mulder said when we pulled up at my motel. I gave him a look. "I'm not tired," he protested. "This is my motel - we're just here for me to pick up our luggage. And you're staying right there." He did as told, and soon we were on our way to the airport. Mulder was fairly quiet on the flights and during the waiting, much to my relief. Once or twice he would unconsciously slip his hand into mine, then realize and immediately withdraw. He took his meds when I gave them to him, and I kept waiting for him to mention his 'lovers' beliefs again. And I had thought his little grey men were worrying enough. But he behaved himself. And he was alive. So I was grateful. Once I woke up from a doze, facing the plane window. I opened my eyes slightly and I could see Mulder and me in reflection. He was over the other side of me, nearer the aisle - we'd made sure we had enough leg room so he wouldn't be too achy - and he was watching me with such love, unaware that I was awake. Once again, I started to think about him and me, about Arcadia, and I forced myself to shove it all to one side. The next few days were going to be difficult enough. I was driving us through the D.C. streets. Mulder was staring out the window. "I still feel like we should be going to Arcadia..." he mused. I pulled up at my apartment and hovered over - well, all around - Mulder as he limped in with aid of a cane. I could tell by his expression that he was thinking, "This is more like it," but kept that to himself. "So, I'm staying with you." He tried to make his voice sound casual. I guess he still couldn't believe the contradiction of this - that I was letting him stay despite my insistence that we were just partners. "Yes. So I can make sure you get to your appointments and don't overdo things with that leg or fall over and not be able to get up. And so I can ensure that you don't watch TV in the dark." "Come again?" "Flashing lights - could lead to seizure." "So, no necking in the dark because we found each other more interesting than the movie?" I snorted and settled him down on the sofa and went back out for the suitcases. I came back in, just in time to see Mulder disappearing...not into the bathroom, but the bedroom. "Hey!" I said as I followed. "Just checking something." He was staring around intently. Mulder pointed at the queen-sized bed with the end of the cane. "Now you can't tell me that I haven't been in that before. I remember you over me." "Over, not ON. You had a fever of 102 and I was taking care of you - so does that really count?" "You always make me feel hot anyway. One hundred and two isn't all that surprising. And I'm sure you were 'taking care of me'." He looked like he wanted to say more, but then he dropped the subject and limped back to the sofa, where he settled down with the tv remote. "Mulder -" "I know, I know. No channel hopping." We watched sports, ate, talked about general things. I ruled an early night. I also ruled that he was sleeping in the bed and that I would be out on the sofa. He protested - only to say that I shouldn't be put out of my own bed 'if' we really were only work partners, but I think he enjoyed the tussling it took to get him into his PJs and to bed. At least he managed the shower fine on his own. And he did have an excuse for leaving his clothes on the floor - he couldn't bend down to reach them. Mulder tried to get comfortable in my bed. Mulder in my bed... He frowned thoughtfully. "I feel like we should be in bed together, but for some reason, the couch is calling to me..." "Good night, Mulder." "Good night," he managed as his eyelids drooped. Getting his PJs on had worn him out. I went out to the sofa, thinking about squeezed toothpaste tubes and green face masks and the mask I'd been wearing ever since the accident, and Mulder lying there going "Come on, Laura, we're married now..." and Laura sounded so similar to Dana if you thought about it, which I certainly was... We had argued like a comfortable, married couple in Arcadia. I was probably being silly about the toilet seat and the toothpaste. I mean, he'd been a bachelor for years; of course he'd be used to leaving the seat up and squeezing where he liked. In the rare times that we did share motel rooms, he did at least TRY to remember. I checked on him several times during the night. Sometimes he was restless from the pain, and I stroked his forehead. Once he opened his eyes and whispered, "Laura," and reached for me, and God, I was so close to slipping into his arms and into bed, even if just to hold him. But I stumbled back, and he woke up properly and the moment was gone. But I knew a confrontation was brewing. It bubbled all the way through breakfast that next morning, even as Mulder made my tea just the way I like it, and we joked around and laughed and I did some laundry and he helped me fold them, and we were basically playing house... "Lau - Dana...you don't know how hard it is for me not to touch you... And I don't mean in a rock-the-house way - just to hold you." "Mulder, I'm here for you. If you want to talk or be comforted. You're my best friend - you're very special to me. But...we're work partners." I was using the words I'd so carefully considered and chosen, but delivering them was much harder than I'd hoped. "We've never even kissed," I reiterated, wondering if he was going to bring up the hallway. "You're not fully yourself at the moment. I don't want us starting something when you're like this." "But...you do love me, don't you?" Dilemma. What terms could I put this in to preserve our partnership, our quest? Lie - say that I did love him, but 'not in that way'? Admit the truth? I hesitated, on the verge of telling him just how much he did mean to me. Off my silence, Mulder said, "With what I remember - you must love me for all that! The looks, the touches, staying through all that you've and we've been through -" He abruptly cut himself off and gazed off at some far horizon. Before I could ask what was wrong, he spoke again. "Oh brother...?" he whispered. "Oh...brother? I said I loved you and you said... You walked off. And I...I've..." I knew then that all of his memory had just returned. I hadn't wanted it to happen like this. Not with that one memory blocking out all our other special moments, even as he was restored fully as Fox Mulder. He looked at me and saw someone he thought didn't love him. Whom he had spilled his entire fantasy life to. The open gates thudded shut. Closing in on himself, Mulder stared down at his left hand, then plucked the ring off in embarrassed silence. XxX He said, "I'm sorry - that was - that was so incredibly dumb of me..." "Mulder, no -" I would have done anything to turn back time, reclaim the last five minutes and set it right. He dropped his ring onto the side table, next to the lamp. "You can take the ring off now, Scully. You don't have to keep up the charade for me any longer. I'm sorry I put you in such an embarrassing situation. And for giving you such an earful of freshman smut." "Mulder, it wasn't smut - it wasn't something to be ashamed of. It sounded...beautiful..." He gave a "yeah, right" snort. "Mulder, you ARE the most special person to me; in my life." I wanted to tell him that I loved him - now that I knew it was really him again, to erase the pain of the 'oh brother' and to set all the misunderstandings straight. But was he listening? Was it the right time? "But you don't feel for me that way. I understand, Scully. I do. I'll talk with Skinner about getting you a transfer -" "NO! I don't want a transfer!" "Scully, how can we keep working together after all I've said in the last two weeks? I don't think I can shut down on my feelings again...though we did a pretty good job of that after the bee in the hallway..." I just sat there. Mulder looked like he wanted nothing more than to go for a long walk or a shower or head straight back to his apartment alone, but for the moment, he was stuck with me. "We need to have a long think anyway. I'll go lie down for a while," he announced. It was the closest we could get to being apart. I helped him up. He nodded his thanks and shuffled into the bedroom. When he reemerged several hours later, I sensed he'd come to a decision. He was despondent and subdued. He didn't say anything about it until after we'd eaten, and were onto dessert. And even then I had to prompt him. "Please tell me what you're thinking, Mulder. I'm getting worried." "I was just thinking about how foolish I was. You're the most important person in my life too, Scully. But it was so stupid of me to think we could move that into a relationship. I've realized just how incompatible we really are in that regard. Take Arcadia for instance - you love order. I'd go mad in a place like that. Professionally it works for us...most of the time...but in a personal relationship - disaster." Chaos and order. I thought about Mulder's dolphin-baiting at Win and Cami's for dinner, and knew he hadn't been able to help himself, but I was alarmed at how easily he was dismissing us. Us as a couple. Then again, he wasn't doing anything that I wasn't guilty of too. Trying to rationalize it out, put it away on a shelf, and get on with life and work. "So if you can forgive me all that stuff I said and did, then we can keep on keeping on. We don't need you to transfer out. Are you comfortable with that idea?" he asked. "Well..." It was logical, it would solve a lot of problems, but would it be the best thing for us? I said yes. We even shared a brief celebratory hug. Then we got on with 'best friend-like' things - bantering about our cases and over what to watch on tv and I even dug out an old board game. He even remembered to put the toilet seat down occasionally without prompting. And so the days of Mulder's recovery at my place passed. SEVERAL WEEKS LATER: Mulder's leg had healed and we were back at work and we were partners and things were fine. Only, I didn't FEEL fine. I didn't know exactly what was wrong, or how to rectify it. Mulder was giving no indication of a problem. Damn him. One lunch break I went to a nearby bakery to get us some chocolate eclairs as a treat. And as I was leaving, something in the window display caught my eye. I stopped and stared at it. Stared and stared. Finally I went back in and bought one. And a plan began forming in my mind. Something which I COULD stop, but I didn't want to. Because how many second chances would we get and waste before they ran out completely? Time to seize the day. Mulder wondered what was up when I wanted to leave right on the dot of knock-off time. "You eager to eat those extra eclairs and watch a nice video at home, huh?" he teased, indicating the bag which held my additional purchase. He didn't know it wasn't eclairs. "No, I've got some serious shopping to do." That was very true. I would have to look hard for what I wanted, but I was determined. It was Friday night, so I had plenty of time. It ended up taking most of Saturday morning to find the items, but soon all was in readiness. I rang Mulder and asked him to come around whenever he could. He appeared on my doorstep at around five, leather- jacketed and curious. He quickly noticed the covered box on the coffee table after he hung up his jacket. "What's that?" I sat down on the sofa next to him. "Open it." He did. He stared. It was a sponge cake covered in bright green icing - it was the icing that had caught my eye. Like a lawn. And randomly into that lawn, I had stuck a little plastic toy flamingo. I was proud of myself - it wasn't dead center. And it was tacky. Mulder laughed. "Are we celebrating our two month anniversary of being a couple in Arcadia, or what?" He checked the date on his watch, grinning. I reached over and turned the flamingo around. On its other side I had written one word in black marker. 'CHAOS.' Mulder looked at it, then at me. In response, I kept my expression inscrutable and handed him an envelope. He tore it open and looked in. He pulled out the contents. A second flamingo. 'ORDER'. My partner hesitated, holding the flamingo, looking from it to the cake to me and back again. I just watched him, waiting to see what he would do. Then he smiled and leaned forward, sticking Order in next to, but not touching, Chaos. "A good team," he said. "Flamingoes belong together in pairs," I reminded him. "In many ways." Then I took a deep inward breath and leaned forward and nudged the Order flamingo so that her beak was touching that of Chaos. "Scully?" Mulder said softly. Time for my reasons. "You want to know how I planned for our assignment in Arcadia, Mulder? I made sure I had all my lab equipment, and then I deliberately packed that green face mask and the most concealing pair of pajamas I possessed." His face fell. "Scully, I'm sorry for what I did that night - I was just teasing... Well, perhaps I wasn't teasing, but I'm sorry it made you feel uncomfortable, that you couldn't trust me to behave. I never would have done anything that you didn't want. And I know better now." Gorgeous, but as thick as a brick. "Mulder, the mask and the PJs weren't only to put you off. They were just as preventative for ME. You know I hardly ever do face masks while we're on the road - and certainly not that color. It was partly a joke and partly to put a mask over my desires, so you wouldn't see... A barrier for us both. As much as I wanted...we were on a case, and we had to work. We had to be professional -" "Wait a minute. Back up. You WANTED - what? ...us?" I nodded. "But - but - how you reacted to me every time I touched you in Arcadia and after the accident... You were so uncomfortable about me touching you! I don't understand..." Thicker than TWO bricks. "I didn't hate your touch. I hated the fakery; I was uncomfortable that this was the only time we could touch freely, but it wasn't US. I couldn't enjoy it. We were on a case; it was an act. And I avoided kissing you at the Shroeders because I wanted our first kiss to have utterly no pretence to it. And not in front of others. Just us. You and I and the way that WE, Scully and Mulder, feel about each other. And the thought of you lying there after the car hit you and lying in the hospital - you could have died and those fake touches would have been my last memories of you. Of not having the courage to be truthful." Mulder's features had settled from worry into that beautiful soft smile from his hallway. "Okay, I'm not on painkillers or any other drugs at the moment and this is really me, with all my memory intact, so will you, Dana Katherine Scully, believe me, Fox William Mulder, when I tell you this time that I love you?" I nodded. "I love you too." Arcadia thought it had cornered the market on perfection. As a scientist, I disagree. This moment was perfection. This kiss was perfection. Our arms around each other and the comfort we took, gave and shared. The beautiful words we whispered to each other, the misunderstandings we cleared up - like how my ungallant and misleading "oh brother" was the equivalent of his hasty and regretted "Even my parents call me Mulder" - and secrets like when we realized that we were actually in love with each other... All perfection. And eventually, there was a lot more kissing too. "Mulder, in all those fantasies that you went into detail about - there was one detail missing that I found curious. The tattoo." His eyes clouded over. "In my mind I always had it that you got it lasered for me." He looked uncomfortable. "Why?" "Because...I didn't want to see it. Or think about it. It was just my little quirk. Just a reminder of a bad time that I erased in the easiest way." "Actually, I've been thinking about getting it removed," I admitted. "I have been for a while. And I will - you don't have to look at my back until I do." "You don't have to, just for me. It's something I can live with." "Hey, Cher's getting rid of hers! I won't miss that one when it's gone; every time I see it in the mirror I feel...uncomfortable. You've just helped me make the final decider. We can go get matching his and hers ones after that. Something more fittingly symbolic." He laughed. "Deal!" I was touched at how Mulder wasn't mindlessly rushing me off to the bedroom since he'd gotten my love and my kiss and my touch. He wasn't going to hurry things. I could set the pace, whatever I was comfortable with. Well, I hadn't only visited the bakery for the cake and novelty stores for the flamingos. I'd also hit several lingerie departments and the drugstore... Time to really play house. I excused myself for a few minutes, left his arms reluctantly, and went into my bedroom. TEN MINUTES LATER: "Mulder..." My voice shook. "Yeah?" He was watching the tv. "This is what I wanted to wear for you on our first night in Arcadia." At that he turned. And he saw me standing in the bedroom doorway, wearing a crimson see-though teddy that clung to every part of me - well, the parts that weren't left bare. I hadn't packed it for the trip. But I'd been very tempted. "This is what I wanted to wear for you. And now that we're off duty, I can." I wanted to twirl for him, but stopped myself in time, remembering our little agreement about the tattoo. And face to face was just fine. I didn't want to look away. Mulder got up and slowly walked towards me. He stopped a few feet away and looked me up and down. "That color suited you in 1939 and it suits you just as well now. And I feel like I've wanted to make love to you for the last sixty years..." I blushed. Among other things... He reached out and gently ran his hand over my left breast. The feel of the lace and his touch rubbing against such an intimate area made me moan and sway forward slightly. "So we can make that honeymoon video now?" As if he had to ask... Mulder picked me up and carried me across the threshold of my bedroom. All was in readiness there. At the bed, he slowly put me down, letting go of my legs in such a way that I slid down his body like a ballerina on stage. How long I'd waited for this dance. I was wearing about as much as a ballerina does wear too... I was in his arms - His worshipful gaze suddenly turned serious. Uh oh. "Will this work, Scully? Are we about to ruin everything? Can order and chaos really coexist in this way?" "Order isn't everything. Too much of it makes a person rigid and locked. Arcadia and its rules were overkill even for me. Chaos isn't everything either. Look how the Yin and Yang spoon - they need each other. There can't be one without the other." "I know how they feel," he said. "Yin and Yang. Man and Woman. You'd think they were incompatible, but they can fit together rather well." I laughed. "Besides," I continued. "I do LIKE order, but I LOVE a certain chaos..." I pulled his shirt out of his jeans and unbuttoned it blindly as I threw caution and God knows what else to the wind and abandoned simple kissing to crouch a little to kiss and lick his stomach. I have NEVER heard him make a noise like the one he produced at the contact of my tongue there. Then I pulled his shirt off and threw it across the room. It landed on the floor. Both Mulder and I stared at it. "You'll pick it up and fold it - I know you will," Mulder said, amused. "I know I will too - but not tonight!" And I latched my mouth onto one of his nipples, effectively shutting him up. I loved this boldness, this certainty. He was stunned, but he didn't complain. After a minute he pulled me up and we locked mouths, sending sparks flying through us. I broke away and moved backwards to sit on the bed, then slid right back to the pillows. I patted the mattress. Mulder got a look in his eyes as he beheld the sight before him. I could read his mind and it made me hotter. He wanted to dive bomb onto the bed, tear the teddy off me and take us to ecstasy, all in short order. I sent a look back that told him I had no problem whatsoever with that. Come on in, Mulder. The water's fine. He poised to leap, then he stopped. A look came over his face. A thoughtful look. Oh, God, Mulder, don't think! "Just a second!" He raced out of the room. I sat there, heaving with lust and love, ditched, and I suddenly remembered why I often wanted to kill the man. XxX Mulder raced back in, his right hand cupping something. I looked. And I remembered why I loved the man. The wedding rings. "How?" Mulder had taken the rings when he moved back into his apartment, saying that he'd hand them back at HQ. Or were these NOT Rob and Laura's? "I sort of...kept carrying them around and 'forgot' to hand them back. It felt strange to, like they were ours. I don't know. I've probably got a few more days of grace before the department calls Skinner to complain." He put mine/Laura's on my ring finger like we were standing in front of a priest instead of half-naked in my bedroom. "To me we are married, regardless of whose rings we're wearing, or if we're not wearing any at all," he said. I slipped his on his long ring finger and then he was in bed beside me and holding me. We kissed. We touched. We undressed and he was very aesthetically pleasing indeed, and we explored, until it was time - "You ready?" I asked, breathing hard in anticipation. "Let's get it on, honey." The man not only uses innuendo - he uses DOUBLE innuendo. So he was wearing the ring and the - Then he was there, just about to... And being Mulder, he HAD to say, "I take this woman..." I groaned and hit him. I was tingling from what he'd already done to me; it felt like hundreds of flamingoes were poised to take flight in me, on my skin, so I countered, "I'm just wondering how far a flamin- goes...OH!" VERY far indeed. I closed my eyes, and as my world reworked itself, I concentrated on breathing through it. I could sense that his face was so close, his hand stroking my cheek as he waited. "Okay?" No, it's NOT "okay"; it's...well I don't quite know what, but it's MUCH better than okay! Oh God... Mulder is inside of me. Is he ever! Still, he knew how long it had been for me and wasn't about to do anything more until I gave permission. I managed to nod. Then he moved and I moved with him. It felt wonderful. But something wasn't quite...then I realized. My eyes were shut. Not good. I wanted to see Mulder. I wanted to see my lover. Mulder. Husband. Lover. Mine. "Oh God," I panted, "I think I just...got very...turned on." "I - should - hope - so!" was the series of gasps I got in reply. "I KNOW so! Ahhh...!" Then my words slurred together and my vocabulary was all primal mating noise from there on in. In... And I locked my legs around him and kept him there. I'd never really had my eyes open much during sex. Even when it wasn't solo, there was something very private about the act and how I was feeling and I kept that knowledge held in me. It wasn't Catholic guilt either. But I wanted to see Mulder. For him to see what he was doing to me, and I to him. I opened my eyes and met his gaze. Due to the difference in our heights, the only way we could really lock gazes was if Mulder was towering up above me, not clutched right to me, or if I had my neck arched back. He was towering above me, but it didn't matter that we couldn't hold that close - what our lower bodies were doing was plenty close enough, and the way we were looking at each other just intensified the experience. Mulder was right about watching your partner when you make love. He hadn't been exaggerating the power of it. If anything, he couldn't articulate it fully because how DO you describe it? And now it was really us, not just his imaginings of us. We were joined and this was not private - we were giving each other love. Together. No clothes. No masks. Just him and me. Mulder watching me intently, us reveling in every detail of the other's face and how we were making each other feel. How do you describe an orgasm? An age-old question. I've had lovers and over the last six years I've been a solo act in the bedroom, and I've read books and novels about the female orgasm. But with all that, the only way I can best describe how it feels to me is that a cluster of energy forms where I touch or am touched inside, and it grows as I continue until finally it releases. With Mulder I could feel the energy collecting with each thrust - gathering for the release. But this... This... Oh. Oh God. What on earth was THIS? A maelstrom of desire and pleasure was gathering in me, whirling, whirlpooling. This wasn't a little energy cluster we were creating here - we were cooking up a freaking supernova! And it was sending out pre-shocks. Bolts of anticipation were traveling up my torso, through my limbs, making me shudder in anything but revulsion. This was no little neat bundle of tidy orgasm - not that those weren't damn satisfactory. But this one was promising to be - how do I put it? It was like I'd spent my whole sex life up till now in an art gallery going from landscape to landscape. Then suddenly Mulder appears and whisks me into an another exhibition, and I'm suddenly confronted with abstracts for the first time - wild primitive uncontrollable loving explosions of - Oh. Oh Godddddddddd... The supernova engulfed me, obliterating everything in giant, radiating waves of pleasure. Well, it's been nice, but I have to scream now... I did. I buckled under the waves and jolts of sensation. Order and Chaos. Matter meets antimatter. Order embraced Chaos and the result was chaotic ecstasy. If Mulder's body hadn't had me pinned to the bed, I would never have found my way back to earth. Through order and chaos, the universe was created. Oh. God. God. I made myself breathe. Sex IS an art form, and I was now a confirmed art lover. I sure felt like one of Dali's melted clocks. "Husband..." I whispered in satisfaction. I certainly felt married. Then more huskily, "Lover..." "Mmmmmm, I don't know which one of those turns me on more... YOU turn me on the most," he murmured. "You took me so far off the planet that I think I saw aliens." "Really? Felt like the Big Bang to me." "I'm going to ban bad innuendo from this bedroom." "Okay, then we'll have to do it out on the sofa..." We laughed and shifted so we were hugging without me being squashed into the mattress. I was a fine one to talk about innuendo though - after all the florid descriptions I was coming up with in my mind. But my mind had no context for what I'd just experienced - trite cliches were all I had. I can usually fall back on science when I couldn't fit something into my world view, but science couldn't contain this. After a while Mulder gazed around at the wrecked bed. "Chaos," he announced. "Order," I replied. "Scully." "Mulder." "Sceptic." "Believer," I countered. Hell, yes, I'm a believer. "Wife." "Husband." "Lover." "Lover," I agreed. "See, we can match. And I think I like this order of things." He smiled and shifted, and I said, "You put that hand back where it belongs, right now." He laughed and obeyed. I sighed with pleasure. "We're going to have to take these rings off once the weekend is up," he said eventually. Reluctantly. "I don't think they'll let me buy them. Could be worth asking or substituting though. Or buying some others." He looked at me. I smiled and shrugged. "So we just wear invisible ones. At least they won't turn our fingers green." He stared at me intensely. "One day we'll have a normal life. I promise. You'll be able to wear my ring in public." "I know. I want to. But for now, this is plenty. And you respected me enough to wait until our wedding night." We grinned. We talked some more, a mix of things, including how we were going to handle work now that our relationship was on a new level, then we spooned together like baby cats and fell asleep. NEXT MORNING, DAWN: We lay there, his head between my breasts, his lips resting half on my skin, breath gliding over my rib cage. I stroked his hair. I had no regrets; I had joy. Mulder was never going to be relegated to the sofa ever again. And I didn't have to ask him if our coming together had falling short of or equaled his fantasies of us. I had seen the answer in his eyes last night. Nothing beat the real thing. "Husband?" "Hmmmm?" "Can we replay the honeymoon video now?" He raised his head and regarded me, sleepiness rapidly leaving his gorgeous features. "Well, that all depends, wife. Do you want it on slow-mo?" At that he shifted around and bent his head to my neck and traced his tongue in a long, wide, lazy, frenzy-inducing lick down over my left breast and nipple. "Or," he pulled his head up and carried on conversationally, though the bastard was quite aware of my moans and flush and dilated eyes and heavy breathing, "do you want it on fast forward?" His tongue zipped up and over my breast and neck like a race car driver over a mountain. "I just want IT!" I declared, and damn well got it. Flamingoes came and flamed and flew like phoenixes... Eventually we recovered and thought about getting up to shower and make breakfast. I looked down at his crumpled shirt on the floor. "You're a bad influence, Mulder. I'm picking this shirt up and folding it, but I know I'll just rip it off you again later." "Oooh, Ms. Anarchy. What a burden. How about I just wander around in the buff all the time when I'm here? No clothes to leave around in messy heaps." I was very tempted... My partner wearing only his wedding ring as he lounged around... Mmmm - I nearly rushed him back to bed then and there on the strength of that image alone. Mulder noticed that I couldn't help smiling as we wandered leisurely into the bathroom, and (justifiably) pleased with his prowess, he said, "You see? I do work mostly at home, and that is great for you, because you get me all to yourself." "This place is us..." I agreed. Then I started laughing. He looked offended. "What?" "I was just grateful that you didn't get a fractured femur, Mulder. The muscles are so strong in the upper thigh that usually the leg has to be placed in traction in order to heal. Your bruising was severe and took a few weeks to heal properly, but could you imagine how we would have been making love if you had a femur fracture? I would have had to have been on top and ducking the sandbags used to keep the traction in place..." "Thrust, thunk, thrust, thunk, huh?" We cracked up. Mulder suggested a joint shower to cool us down. Yeah, right. Then we went out into the kitchen, him in his boxers, me in my robe, to see if we could agree on what to cook. He wanted to have a piece of our flamingo cake which was still perched on the coffee table, then he noticed I was lost in thought, and asked what about. I'd come up with yet another description. I explained that the last night was like when I walked into the x- files office for the first time. I had gone in secure in myself, thinking all was known - within five minutes Mulder had taken my life and starbursted it out... Extraterrestrials... Supernovas... "Well, this terrestrial would like a little extra..." He enfolded me from behind in a hug. "Hmmm, I can FEEL the 'little' extra... And one more bad pun like that, and you're not getting any." Mulder's stomach rumbled. "So wife, are you going to make me a sandwich?" "You can't have been paying attention, husband - I already have." "Huh?" "I sandwiched you quite well this morning..." He cracked up. And we went back to playing house. THE END.