From: theidiosyncraticstanwyck@yahoo.com   
      
   Title: Spectrum   
   Author: the idiosyncratic stanwyck   
   Email: theidiosyncraticstanwyck@yahoo.com   
   Category/Keywords: AU, MSR, A (not too much)   
   Rating: PG-13   
   Summary: A woman meets a man who opens her eyes to a vast,   
   unexpected spectrum of beautiful, terrifying possibilities.   
      
   Chapter 12: Paint it Black   
      
   "I see a red door and I want it painted black; no colors   
   any more, I want them to turn black... maybe then I'll fade   
   away and not have to face the facts. It's not easy facing   
   up when your whole world is black." - The Rolling Stones   
      
   **   
      
   Some soft sound roused Mulder from slumber, and he turned,   
   automatically seeking Scully's presence. Realizing that he   
   was alone in bed but that the sheets still retained her   
   scent and heat, he cracked one eye open and froze at the   
   sight before him. Latticed moonlight from the bay window   
   bathed her nude body, making her ivory skin glow a ghostly   
   white. He'd caught her in a half-crouch, clutching her   
   dress to her chest as she searched for her underwear.   
      
   "I have to go," she said, standing, the lines of her lithe   
   body straightening, the muscles in her buttocks flexing   
   with the fluid movement. Her voice was pitched low, rough   
   and hoarse; it slid over his tender skin, chaffing harshly.   
      
   He blinked, trying to drag his brain into motion. "Is   
   something wrong?"   
      
   She dressed quickly, her movements spare and back turned,   
   trying to hide the trembling of her hands. She could feel   
   his eyes on her, puncturing her brittle enamel shell.   
   Turning, Scully resolutely met his gaze. The planes of his   
   face were charcoal and amethyst, chiseled with a blunt   
   instrument and smoothed with an artist's pencil. The raw   
   vulnerability reflected there now was no less stunning than   
   the accompanying anger.   
      
   "Scully, what -" He paused, fighting for calm. "Wait a   
   minute. Talk to me."   
      
   Her hair tickled her shoulders as she shook her head.   
   "Mulder, I'm sorry. This was a terrible mistake. I   
   shouldn't have let what happened here tonight happen, but   
   there's no undoing. So let's try to put this behind us."   
      
   "Put this behind us," he echoed dully, sitting up. The   
   sheet slipped to his waist.   
      
   He thought he saw moisture shimmering in her eyes, but it   
   was so damn dark that he couldn't be sure. "I'm so sorry,"   
   she said. "I can't be with you in this way. I never   
   intended -"   
      
   She'd never intended what? To hurt him? Too goddamn late. A   
   dull, insidious ache in his stomach began to penetrate the   
   haze of numbness her first words had caused.   
      
   He knew she could read his thoughts on his face, and part   
   of him was glad. Fuck his dignity. He wanted her to know   
   exactly what she had done.   
      
   "You never intended to be in a relationship with me," he   
   theorized coolly. "You planned all of this. You wanted to   
   come back here so you could avoid the messiness of having   
   to throw me out of your bed in the morning, huh? This way   
   you were going to disappear tonight, and then what was   
   going to happen tomorrow? Were you going to invite me over   
   for pizza and videos with your daughter, like a couple of   
   old pals?"   
      
   She was crying silently, tears racing down her frozen face.   
   Her silence told Mulder that he had guessed correctly.   
      
   "Well, Scully, I'm sorry too. It's not going to work that   
   way. I can't be 'just friends' any more." Not after I've   
   tasted you, heard you moan, felt your body clenching mine   
   from the inside.   
      
   "And I can't be anything more." Her voice trembled, clogged   
   with tears.   
      
   He searched her eyes for a glimmer of familiarity but met a   
   wall of ice. "You can't, or you won't? Damn it, Dana, we   
   made love tonight -"   
      
   "We had sex!" she interrupted. She took a deep breath,   
   exhaling through her nose, rolling her shoulders backward.   
   "We had sex."   
      
   "You're a fucking coward, Scully." He watched his arrow hit   
   its mark. She sucked in a quick breath. He saw through her.   
   She was scared. She was so scared that she was going to run   
   out of his apartment and ruin whatever chance they had of   
   creating something together.   
      
   His next words ripped more deeply into the fresh wound.   
   "I love you."   
      
   He wasn't going to let her leave without acknowledging that   
   she knew exactly what had happened between them, that it   
   meant far more than some one night stand. She bowed her   
   head and stared at her feet. She could feel the anger and   
   disappointment rolling off him in waves.   
      
   "I'm sorry," she repeated. *I can't love you, Mulder. I   
   can't let myself.* Her cheeks hollowed as she forced   
   herself to breathe, her eyes raking over the rumpled   
   sheets and the muted bedroom.   
      
   Her panic was beginning to recede as he recognized the   
   finality of her actions. Clean white light from the hallway   
   led her toward exit and salvation. It was much too late to   
   hail a cab on the street; but she had her cell phone.   
      
   "Was it worth it?" His voice was sharp, piercing.   
      
   She turned back to the bedroom, absorbing the scene she was   
   leaving behind. The air-conditioned room smelled like sex.   
   Mulder sprawled on the bed like a centerfold.   
      
   Scully met his eyes for the last time. "No," she whispered.   
      
   Six steps to the bedroom doorway. Twelve down the hall, her   
   heels clacking on the blonde wood. Keys scooped from the   
   end table; purse rescued from a careless heap under the   
   sofa. The door swung open soundlessly, but whined pitifully   
   as she closed it behind her, wedging the swollen wood into   
   the doorframe. Gulps of the icy air filled her lungs,   
   slicking over her skin and down her throat, bathing the   
   damage the night had wrought in a crystallized,   
   impenetrable blanket.   
      
   **   
      
   Dana would have liked to cry and eat ice cream and lament   
   her stupidity in the best soap opera fashion, but that   
   didn't fit with her personality or her schedule. So she   
   settled for silent, galling, carefully contained grief and   
   recrimination, and Chloe came home to find a spotless   
   apartment and a pancake breakfast fit for a princess.   
      
   When she was young and allowed to have problems and be   
   miserable, Maggie used to tell Dana to keep busy. Dana took   
   Chloe to the mall and bought her new school clothes. She   
   stopped on the way home at the nearest convenience store   
   and bought herself two packs of cigarettes. Marlboro Reds.   
   Chloe frowned but wisely chose not to say anything.   
      
   At home Scully pulled out one of her seldom-used cookbooks   
   and proceeded to craft a meal that would have made Martha   
   Stewart proud, complete with artfully folded napkins - not   
   an easy task to accomplish when her hands were trembling   
   like the last leaves on a barren tree.   
      
   Chloe said everything was good. Dana stared at the very   
   balanced meal and pristine silverware in front of her and   
   wanted to vomit.   
      
   Chloe cut her chicken cutlet into perfect geometric pieces   
   and ate them with her usual precise nibbles. Across the   
   table Dana sipped from a tall glass of iced jasmine tea and   
   studied her daughter, mulling, as she habitually did, over   
   the contrasts that provided the building blocks of Chloe's   
   personality. She was such a striking combination of   
   structure and passion, reservation and enthusiasm, caution   
   and spontaneity. She was a deep thinker who made straight   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)