From: akelleynolan@yahoo.com   
      
   TITLE:  Kamikaze   
   AUTHOR:  A. Kelley Nolan   
   EMAIL:  akelleynolan@yahoo.com   
   DISTRIBUTION:  I'll take care of Gossamer and Ephemeral.  Anywhere   
   else would thrill me to pieces.  Just let me know.   
      
   RATING:  PG (with one R word)   
   CATEGORIES:  VR   
   KEYWORDS:  UST, Mulder/Scully romance, Scully POV   
   SPOILERS:  None   
      
   SUMMARY:  "I don't know if I can do this anymore."   
      
   Disclaimer:  Everybody in this belongs to somebody else.   
      
   Author's Notes:  In spite of the title, this has absolutely nothing to   
   do with either "Pusher" or "Kitsunegari."  A little fluffbiscuit.   
      
   *********************   
      
   Mulder had been quiet all day, and it was starting to worry me.   
   Usually a night like the one we had last night brings out his   
   postmodern caveman, and he is all subtle pleasure and restless energy   
   and warm, knowing looks from under his lashes.  Today his eyes were   
   shuttered, his hands idly spinning a pencil between his fingers, and   
   even when I found his gaze on me I couldn't tell what he was thinking.   
    It unnerved me.   
      
   "What's the matter?" I asked at last, and was slightly annoyed to find   
   myself holding my breath.   
      
   He looked up at me, and I wished that he was just noticing me for the   
   first time that day, instead of the expression that told me he had   
   been waiting for me to notice him, waiting for me to approach.  The   
   signal seemed pretty damn clear, and I wondered how I had missed it   
   for so long.  His first words made me think I had probably wanted to.   
      
   "I don't know if I can do this anymore."  His voice was soft, even,   
   and it was infinitely worse than if he had screamed at me.  I felt my   
   stomach clench with sudden, limbic fear.   
      
   "This what?"  It was a whisper, but I was grateful any sound came out   
   at all.   
      
   "This...thing we do.  This kamikaze sex, where we fall into bed for a   
   night, or a few days, or a few weeks, get up alone, and then come to   
   work like it's just...Tuesday," he finished weakly.  He frowned and   
   shook his head, not happy with the way that came out even after   
   thinking about it all day.   
      
   I felt a chill in the center of my chest.  I wasn't sure where he was   
   going with this, but I knew that he was talking about one of the few   
   refuges I had left.  Knowing that his arms were open any time I needed   
   him, that they sought me when he needed me, that we could give each   
   other with our bodies what we couldn't seem to say with words, was one   
   of the things keeping me sane.  After one or two tries, I found my   
   voice.  "Do you want to end it?"   
      
   "God," he sighed, his head tilted back to the ceiling, "that would be   
   the only thing worse than keeping things like this."  He looked over   
   at me, and he must have seen that I had frozen, must have seen the   
   grief I was fighting very hard to keep from my eyes, because his gaze   
   and his voice softened enough to let my heart start beating again.   
   "I'm sorry.  I don't know what I'm saying.  I don't want to end it,   
   Scully.  I'm not even sure I could.  I want you in my life far too badly."   
      
   Whatever was going through his mind was distracting him enough that he   
   was forgetting to hide the expressions playing across his face.   
   Regret was there.  Uncertainty.  A hint of fear.  And something raw   
   and vulnerable that he was trying to cage behind his eyes with only   
   partial success.  He had slipped into code, too.  Apparently all that   
   thinking hadn't helped him figure out his next move, or even how to   
   talk to me.  Practically trembling, I slipped into my accustomed role   
   of codebreaker.  "Want me in your life how?"   
      
   Mulder went very still as his eyes found mine again, and I sucked in   
   my breath.  I knew this stillness, had been lulled by it before.  This   
   wasn't deer in headlights, this was lions on the savannah.  This was a   
   dangerous calm.  His voice was low and went straight down my spine.   
   "Are you asking what I accept, or what I want?"   
      
   I let that captured breath out slowly and stared into his eyes, which   
   were giving away nothing except heat.  We've always done this, going   
   from "what do you want for lunch?" to "if you had one hour to live,   
   who would you apologize to?" in nothing flat.  I felt shaky.  "Is   
   there a difference?"   
      
   He chuffed out a mirthless laugh, then swallowed it when he realized I   
   was serious and not just pretending ignorance for mysterious reasons   
   of my own.  He stood up and came around his desk, leaning against the   
   front of it, very deliberately taking a barrier away from us.  "Yeah,"   
   he said simply.  "There's a difference."   
      
   I hesitated.  I knew he wanted me to join him in the space between the   
   desks, on the neutral ground he had claimed.  And I wanted to.  But   
   jeez, the man is constantly pushing me just a little further than I   
   feel like I can go.  I've built up muscles resisting him.  This didn't   
   seem like one of those fighting times.  It seemed like time to take a   
   deep breath, close my eyes, jump, and see if he would catch me.  I   
   stepped carefully around my desk/table, meeting him in the middle.   
   His posture didn't change, but I saw a flare of gratitude in his eyes.   
    I leaned gingerly against my desk, wrapping my fingers tightly around   
   the edge.  "I'm asking for the truth," I said quietly.  "All I ever   
   want from you is the truth."   
      
   He looked at me for a long time, weighing my words.  I meant them, but   
   we both knew it hasn't always been the case.  When he spoke, there was   
   no hesitation, just a soft declaration coming fully formed from his   
   lips.  He had thought these words before, untold numbers of times.  "I   
   accept whatever you're willing to give me, Scully.  Partners, friends,   
   occasional lovers...I can live with that if I have to.  And I can be   
   grateful for every minute I spend with you, every time I hear your   
   voice, every touch, every shared moment.  But what I want...I want   
   everything.  I don't want to do this for the night, or the week, or   
   the month.  I want to do this for the rest of our lives."   
      
   His voice trailed off, and all I could hear was the blood rushing in   
   my ears.  I had always known that this day would come.  It was   
   inevitable the one day one of us would look at the other and say, Fuck   
   it, I just want us to be together, and I can't think of a single   
   goddamn reason why we're not.  I always assumed that, knowing it was   
   coming, I would be prepared for it.  Instead, my mind was a complete   
   blank, and I felt a disarming combination of liquid desire and stark   
   terror as he moved closer to me, coming to stand in front of me.   
      
   Mulder's eyes are like the movie screen of his heart.  Everything he   
   feels is projected there, and he's never figured out how to hide it.   
   They were flashing half a dozen contradictory things, and I think it   
   was seeing my own emotional maelstrom reflected there that kept my   
   knees from sinking under me.  "Scully..." he breathed, his eyebrows   
   pulling together in a slight frown of uncertainty, "I know we have   
   this tacit agreement never to say the words.  As if the words would   
   conjure it, like a golem, out of nothing.  But it's a lie, Scully."   
   He shook his head, and I could feel the heat rising off his body.   
   "It's a lie, and I'm so tired of it."   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)