Chapter 21a:

**Scully...I smell like you...**


They stood in the rain longer than they should have. They breathed against one another's skin. They felt one another's heart beats. They didn't care they were nearly drowning. They didn't want to let go.

They climbed the stairs together. Scully paid Ashleigh, and Mulder walked her safely to her car. When he came back upstairs, a fire burned in the fireplace, dancing fingers of amber light about the walls, Tasha basked near the warmth of the fire, and Scully was towel drying her hair. Another fresh towel lay on the back of the couch for him.

"We should get out of these wet clothes," Scully said softly as Mulder turned the final lock on her door.

He turned around and deadpanned for a moment, then wiggled his eyebrows, and Scully closed her eyes and softened into a wry smile. "And into dry ones," she added, turning away.

Scully retreated to the master bathroom to clean up while Mulder did the same in the guest bath. They emerged one after the other, hair still damp, skin soft from the rainwater; Mulder in sweats and a T-shirt, Scully in a luxurious pink robe.

"Little Guy sleeping?" Mulder asked.

"Mercifully quiet."

Scully fixed them each a drink, then led the way to the couch and the warmth of the fire.

She passed a goblet of white wine to Mulder and took a sip of her own iced tea. She pulled her legs up beneath her, and Mulder caught the flash of pale skin before she straightened the robe around her legs. It wasn't as if he had never seen her naked before. But there was a difference between dragging your partner's naked form from a vat of alien slime at the icy ends of the earth, and seeing up her velour robe in the firelight of her living room.

Mulder reached his arm along the back of the couch and drew his fingers ever so lightly down Scully's cheek. He didn't speak.

Scully closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "Where did you live?" she whispered as his hand fell away. "When you were gone..."

Mulder shook his head. "Nowhere. In a crappy one room apartment with no sunlight. I didn't go out. Didn't want to risk my cover. I took the subway to work every day. Work was underground--literally."

"What was it like. I mean...were you okay?"

Mulder nodded. "I was...I mean...I was safe most of the time. There were risks, but, mostly it was drudge work. Lots of down time to watch cable and read cheap spy novels."

"What was the hardest part?" she asked, firelight flickering in her transluscent eyes. She was so soft when she was wet, most of her make-up washed away, hair falling in gentle, natural curls. She looked young. Innocent. The firelight blended away the lines and scars of time and suffering. And he could imagine Dana the college student. Dana the baby sister. Dana the girl with the ballerina music box she kept safe from her brothers.

And suddenly the mere warmth of her presence, the sound of the voice that had comforted his worst nightmares for so many years, the intimacy of her touch mixed with the overwhelming memory of his lips on hers and her knees locked around his hips as her breasts pushed against his chest, all whirled into a storm of emotion that felt like a punch in the gut and his eyes washed hot with tears.

Scully reached out to touch his face, and the tenderness in her fingers nearly broke him. He closed his eyes and leaned into the warmth of Scully's palm. "The worst part was being away from you. Scully you're the only one I've ever had in my life who...you're...I ...I just missed you so much, Scully," his voice was little more than a whisper, and he tried to tamp down on the well of emotion, but Scully felt it all, and her hand stroked his cheek. He heard her set down her drink, then felt her other hand come to rest on his knee.

"You were alone," she whispered. And the thready tenor to her voice told him she had heard every layer of his admission.

"So were you," he said, opening his eyes at last. And the depth of concern in her face was like a warm hand in a cold night.

She gazed at him a long moment, then simply nodded. And that shouldn't have felt good. He should have wanted her to argue, point out the others in her life. But she didn't. And she meant it. And tonight...he needed that.

"Scully...?"

"What?"

"How long?"

She straightened a bit, let her hand fall from his cheek to his wrist. She narrowed her gaze, wanting more from him.

"How long have you felt...more for me?"

"How long have I felt it? Or when did I admit it? To myself."

"Both."

She thought for a moment, sharp mind puzzling through her response the way she pieced together the lives of the victims she saw only in death. "I admitted it when Daniel asked me if I wanted a child. Suddenly everything was real. And you weren't coming home. And I couldn't start to let go of you, unless I admitted why...I couldn't."

Mulder nodded. Wanted to hear that. Didn't want to hear. "And...how long...have you felt..."

This time she almost smiled. Shy. Sweet. His chest tightened. "Since I woke up. And you brought me 'Superstars of the Superbowls'."

She looked away over the back of the couch. They were quiet a moment. Then, Mulder said, "Damn, we're slow."

And Scully broke into the most beautiful laughter he had heard since one early summer night on a deserted baseball diamond.

She didn't speak. She picked up her iced tea, took a sip, and gazed into its amber depths.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

Scully kept studying her glass. "I'm fine."

"Are you terrified?"

She drew a breath, but her muscles quivered as she forced the air into her lungs. She arched an eyebrow. Still not looking away from her glass. "Very."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly.

Scully cringed. She closed her eyes and he saw the tension creasing her brow. When she opened her eyes and glanced toward him, her clear blue was bright with tears. He wanted to touch her. Didn't know if he could. "Slow, okay?" she said. She barely got the words out without her voice breaking. The vulnerability made him ache. She was shaking.

"I think we've established that's what we're good at." He was joking, trying to warm her, but his voice belied the lightness. The tenderness bled in.