From: char@chaffin.com   
      
   TAMPING DOWN THE INEVITABLE   
   By Char Chaffin   
   MSR, R, angst, AU vignette   
   Spoilers:  Cancer Arc   
   Disclaimer:  Clones on Loan   
   Dedication:  This one's for Robin, since an email to her inspired it   
   in the first place!   
      
      
   "Tamping Down the Inevitable"   
      
      
   He wanted light to fill the room, wanted to see her, all of her.   
   Likewise she needed the dark, she felt shy, unsure of herself, of the   
   way her body would appear to him.  They compromised by pushing the   
   curtains wide, the storm and the lightning outside a perfect backdrop   
   for them.  They lay near the windows on a comforter that he tugged   
   off the bed.  In the dark the flash of lightning outside alternately   
   revealed, then hid, the contours of her thin body, the shadowed   
   planes of arm, leg, hip.  Her face was all angles and bones, her eyes   
   beyond tired.   
      
   She was still so lovely, so very lovely to him; she'd never been   
   anything less.   
      
   "Mulder, you -"   
      
   "Shhh.  I want this.  I need this, don't you?  So much wasted time,   
   Scully.  This should have happened between us years ago.  I lost you   
   once; I don't want another minute to pass without telling you,   
   showing you, how much I love you."   
      
   "I'm not... at my best, Mulder.  I may not make it, this time.  We   
   have to face the facts here.  I may not live out the rest of the   
   year..." The words choked their way out of her throat and lay between   
   them, heavy and unwelcome.   
      
   He pushed them aside with a decisive, "You're not going to die,   
   Scully.  You're not leaving me, not again.  I won't allow it to   
   happen."   
      
   In the flickering dim, her eyes held a tiny measure of hope that her   
   voice refused to echo.  "Are you saying you've found a way to cheat   
   death?  Do you think Death cares for your opinion, your feelings?   
   That's rather arrogant, isn't it?"   
      
   He kissed her deeply; then murmured against her lips, "Yes, it is."   
   He stared down into her eyes, added, "When it comes to you and your   
   well-being, I'm the most arrogant son of a bitch on the planet.  Sue   
   me."   
      
   She had to chuckle just a little at his attitude, he looked so   
   fierce.  "I'll sue you later, Mulder.  Right now I'd rather just love   
   you... if that's all right with you.  And you can... turn on the   
   lights.  I won't mind.  I'd kind of like to see your body, too.  Just   
   to make sure this is real."   
      
   "Oh, it's real, never doubt it.  This time it's real."   
      
   He rose and moved to the side of the bed; flicked on a small lamp.   
   In the half-light his body gleamed, all rangy muscles and long legs,   
   tight buttocks, wide shoulders.  Mussed chocolate hair and   
   five o'clock shadow.   
      
   How many times had she dreamed of this, of seeing him just like   
   this?  Naked and aroused, coming toward her with need in his eyes and   
   hands that trembled as they reached for her.  A groan bursting from   
   that beautiful mouth of his when skin met skin and he sank to the   
   floor beside her, touching her body, full contact at last.  But in   
   those dreams she was healthy, whole.  Able to give to him all of the   
   wonderful things she knew by instinct alone he'd give right back to   
   her.   
      
   Instead she found herself curling into his arms not so much from   
   lust but as a way to hide, even though she'd asked him to provide   
   light.  She buried her face in his neck; her arms wrapped around her   
   own waist instead of his.  Silence filled the room as he stroked her   
   hair, held her as close as she'd allow.  He was a patient man, this   
   she knew; he would wait.   
      
   And suddenly it seemed ridiculous to her, that her insecurity should   
   insinuate itself between them, when every minute was precious and   
   ticked by on its own, never to be recaptured.  Yet she couldn't stop   
   herself.  The difference between them had never been as pronounced as   
   it now was; health versus illness, strength against weakness.  Life   
   pushing at Death...   
      
   "Scully.  Stop.  You're thinking too much."  He bent over her until   
   he could look in her face, a thumb tracing the dampness on her   
   cheeks.  He kissed an errant tear, murmured against it, "There's much   
   we can't change in our lives, but this isn't one of them.  It was   
   inevitable that I would love you, want you for always.  And though I   
   refuse to believe in the inevitability of your cancer, I have to   
   acknowledge its presence."  He cupped her cheeks tenderly. "But I   
   don't have to let it defeat you.  Or me.  And you don't have to allow   
   it the upper hand, not right now.  Tell me I'm right, like a good   
   girl."   
      
   His voice held just enough of a tease that she smiled despite   
   herself.  Slowly she unwound her arms from her own body and slipped   
   them around his shoulders.  Just as slowly he brought her closer,   
   until they were pressed together, skin to skin.  When she again   
   buried her face in his neck, no tears dampened the warm flesh there.   
   Her lips curved and two words sighed their way into his ear.   
      
   "You're right."   
      
   He couldn't resist one last small tease.  "Good girl."   
      
   Lamplight shone softly over the walls and lightning sparked though   
   the windows as they stretched out on the comforter.  Hands made shaky   
   from tactile overload touched, caressed, stroked.  Ardent lips   
   followed, trailing along baby-soft skin and smooth, tight muscles.   
   He kissed each small breast, learning her taste; the feel of her   
   nipple as it puckered in his mouth, the gasp that broke from her   
   throat when his fingers slid lower and found her damp core.  In turn   
   she pressed fevered palms over his back, sent inquisitive fingers   
   down to his hips and around to where she could hold him, large and   
   hard in her hands.  So full of life... it seemed he had more than   
   enough to share.  When she whispered it hoarsely into his mouth,   
   he groaned in agreement.   
      
   "I want your life, Mulder.  Inside me... please."   
      
   "Yes.  God, Scully... yes..."   
      
   She lay before him with open arms, open legs, love in her eyes and   
   naked want on her lovely face.  The contrast of her thin and pale   
   body against his tanned flesh was suddenly exciting and not something   
   to mourn, not now.  In her weakness she found strength; he gave it to   
   her when he slipped his hands beneath her narrow hips and pressed   
   against her, probed carefully, entered eagerly.  Broken phrases and   
   half-words of love filled the quiet air between them as they strove   
   to find just the right rhythm, the best sense of movement.  Time spun   
   out on a hazy thread of urgency and deliberation, of rushing kisses   
   and endless caresses.  Of deep piercing jabs and tender circling   
   thrusts.  Mouth to mouth and tongue against tongue.  Entwined hands   
   and hearts...   
      
   Everything they needed.  All they wanted.   
      
   *******************   
      
   Thunder boomed out in the distance beyond their window, echoing the   
   residual pounding of their hearts as their bodies cooled and rested.   
   In a tangle of arms and legs they lay staring into eyes gone sleepy   
   with satiation.  He searched her face for signs of physical stress   
   and found a measure of happiness in her eyes that had been missing   
   for far too long.  A smile of pride mingled with the kiss he pressed   
   on her parted lips.   
      
   She couldn't resist.  "I bet I know what you're thinking, Mulder.   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)