Title: Never Before, Never Again Author: Caroline McKenna Spoilers: post- Never Again, some for Fire, Lazarus, and a foreshadowing for season 7's 'all things' Teaser: What may have happened after that last scene in the X-Files office. Angst, angst, angst. Angst-fest, ladies and gentlemen. Category: SRA Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance, angst Rated: R for language. Email: JC_SizzlinSpike827@yahoo.com Feedback: If you are tempted to do so, I am thrilled, if you go through with it, I am honored, and if it's good, I am blessed. Disclaimer: I don't own them, I never will. They belong to Chris Carter, FOX, 1013 Productions, and I like to think they belong to GA and DD. They're not mine. Don't rub it in. No copyright infringement intended. Archiving: Yes, just tell me where you're taking it, and include my name and email Authors Notes: I watched Never Again the other day and it seemingly awakened my muse who had been hibernating since my last fic, "And the Snow Still Falls". Now, I normally don't write angst much at all, since I am a hopeless romantic, but I was in a pissy mood. © September 30, 2002 *~*~* Never Before, Never Again (1/2)~*~*~ She couldn't take the silence for another minute. It was eerily haunting in its' presence. It was almost funny how something so quiet could be so completely deafening. She couldn't hear herself think or breathe, she couldn't hear the hastened tapping of her toe on the cold, stone floor. The echo of hushed fury filled her mind, seeping through every pore in her body. Try as she did, Dana Scully couldn't shake off his last words to her before they slipped into this eternal and uncomfortable reticence. She had done everything she could think of to clear her mind; cleaned her 'area' that still lacked a desk, called her mother, and emailed Ellen, whom she hadn't spoken with in too many years. Still, her thoughts kept going back to his unfinished sentence. And he had stopped, not even bothering to finish his statement. The paperclips on his desk had suddenly become too interesting. Neither had spoken since those stinging words, knowing that with a subject so touchy, they could both fall over the edge of the cliff with nothing to break their fall. It bothered her. Both his silence and what he had begun to say. Of course, she would never know exactly what he was going to say, since she wasn't speaking to him. Scully was too fuming mad to mutter another word to the man in front of her. What business was it of his how she spent her weekend? Even if she had gotten laid, which she hadn't, he didn't have the right to know. Why would he even care? They weren't married for crying out loud, and the FBI didn't require celibacy. Hell, they weren't even involved! So why, when the moment her lips touched Ed Jerse's, did she feel like a cheating wife? It had felt wrong, plain and simple, so she hadn't gone through with it. She hadn't accepted his unspoken but open invitation of sex that night. Scully was bugged by this, by Mulder's constant invasion of her thoughts and, although she wouldn't recognize it, of her heart as well. She couldn't go out and get drunk to have one tryst without his annoyingly authoritative voice telling her what to do. He was always there, whether it be physically or metaphysically. As much as Scully would hate to admit it, even to herself, she always felt his aura, no matter what distance was between them. It was strangely odd, possibly to be considered X-Files worthy, if she ever got up the guts to tell her partner. Yeah, she could see how that conversation would go already. No, that conversation wouldn't go over well at all. Mulder seemed to have this extraordinary talent for pissing people off, namely her. She couldn't go anywhere, do anything, without him knowing about it. There was no freedom to speak of. Maybe that's why she'd done it, why she'd called Ed in the first place. As an act of rebellion. It was almost as if she was a teenager again, turning deliberately against her parents' wishes. Of course, Mulder was nowhere near the 'parent' role in her life, although he was a commanding figure. As she told Ed, she seemed to be drawn to powerful men like a moth to a flame. And pretty soon, she was going to get burned. Maybe that was why she finally gave in and talked to Skinner. This had been it, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Scully feared the heat, feared the burn that she knew being with Mulder would cause. Men like him had always failed her, or she had failed them. Jack Willis had been an abusive shit, who was so controlling, that Scully couldn't even look at another man in the grocery store without getting reprimanded severely. Before him had been Daniel. She had failed him, ruining his life and his marriage. And her father.... Ahab had been so disappointed in her when she joined the Bureau, and never had he respected her decision. It had hurt Scully deeply, his lack of pride in her, the lack of support. Yes, she had loved men like Mulder before, and had only gotten hurt. It wouldn't pay off. He was no different than the others. She hadn't lied when she had said that not everything was about him, but now she wondered just how much truth the statement held. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. His what? What was it of his? She had to know. "Your what, Mulder?" she asked, breaking the silence that had once seemed to stretch through the boundaries of time and space. He looked up from the mountainous stack of paperwork on his desk to look at a pensive Scully. She no longer appeared angry, or at least not as angry as she had been. Her brow was knitted in thought, instead of the anger he had expected. "Huh?" "When I said that it was my life, you started to say something but you didn't finish it. What were you going to say?" Her voice still held a raw edge to it, letting him know that all was not okay between them. As if he needed a reminder. "It's not important, Scully. Just drop it." "It was obviously important enough for you to start saying it. Come on, I'm curious," she sneered and he nearly cringed at the harsh tone in her voice. The daggers she was firing his way enough were enough to make him want to go back to his apartment, and buy a bed for the sole purpose of hiding under it. "Never mind, Scully. Please," Their strained conversation was getting tenser by the moment, and Scully was really starting to lose her patience. He had something to say to her before, why not say it now? Hell, she was telling him to talk instead of to shut up for once, he should be glad. "Damn it, Mulder. What the hell were you gonna say? That its your life too? Well fuck that, Mulder. Fuck it all. Fuck you! Why do you give a shit about my life? Since when do you give a rats ass about who I fuck or not? It's not any of your damn business anyway! I didn't care when your precious Phoebe came back and invaded our... your life! Why do you criticize the choices I make?" she ranted. He had never heard her cuss so much in the four years they had known each other, and never at that tone. Her father was a naval officer, so she had probably been around that crowd often. Maybe that's where she learned to curse like a sailor. What was he supposed to say to that? How was he supposed to justify his actions with Phoebe, and, more importantly, did she really think of him like that? Did she just expect him not to care? Was he really that awful to her? "I don't know what to say, Scully," he replied truthfully, only to receive an icy stare in return. "How about, 'Thanks for being my partner, Scully,' or 'I appreciate you, Scully', or 'I'm sorry for always ditching you and then playing with your feelings when I land myself in the fucking hospital?'" Scully left her 'area' and walked toward the door. "When you figure out what to say, Mulder, give me a call. Until then, I will be teaching at Quantico. I already okayed it with Skinner." And with that, she slammed the door and walked out, anguished tears welling up in her eyes. Mulder stood speechless, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He couldn't believe she had done it, she had left. The first thing that came to his mind was to run after her, chase her down the hallway and make her stay, if not for him, then for the X-files. But his utmost concern was not for Special Agent Scully, but for Dana Katherine Scully. Or maybe it was for himself. Mulder had a hard time deciphering between the two at the moment. Yet, as much as he wanted to move, to rise up out of his chair make things all better between them, he remained motionless, save for the moving of his lips, which only now could function. "I love you." *~*~* Never Before, Never Again (2/2) ~*~*~ She sat at home in the dark of her bedroom with the ceiling fan on high and the radio playing full blast, in some attempt to drown out her wrenching sobs. The country music station she had found had done nothing to cheer her up, only to allow her to sink deeper and deeper into her sorrow. Scully had broken down as soon as she reached her car, unable to bear the responsibility of her own words. She had been so cruel, so angry. But that anger had dissolved into something much more precarious, tears of uncertainty and fear. Tears of unrequited love. The same tears she faced every day. Once she realized with great disappointment, that Mulder wasn't coming after her, Scully blinked through her weeping and turned on the ignition. For hours she had sat on the bed, crying because it was empty of a man, crying because the only man she could ever love was unattainable, and crying because she hated herself for her cruelty. Crying wasn't something Dana Scully did often; very rarely did she allow herself to let go of emotion in that fashion. To her, it symbolized weakness, frailty, something she could not have. In a career field dominated by men, she couldn't be weak, and in a personal life that was closely guarded, she could not afford to be frail. There was a loud insistent knock on the door, but Scully didn't move. She knew exactly who it was and there was no way in hell that she was answering that door. He couldn't see her like this, he couldn't see her so vulnerable. They normally bright blue eyes were red and puffy from crying, and she was sure that she had tear stains on her cheeks. But he had seen her like this before, he had seen her cry. , she asked herself. And that was the rub, ladies and gentlemen. The times that Mulder had seen her cry had been few and far between, but never before had he been the cause. Never again would she let him effect her this way either. He knocked again with no forthcoming answer, so he took out his key and opened the door to her apartment. Rarely did he do this. Normally, he would wait until she answered, and if she didn't, he'd go home. But today, he knew she was home, and they needed to talk... badly. "Scully!" he called into the darkness. Again no answer, but he could hear muffled sobs and loud music coming from her bedroom. Her living room and kitchen were old stomping grounds for him, but the bedroom was her sanctuary, and a place he more often than not, dared not disturb. In his eyes, however, he had no choice now. Cautiously he turned the gold knob and opened the door. The picture that unfolded before him was the classic portrait of agony. Scully was huddled up in the middle o f the royal bed, clutching her pillow to her breast and crying. Crying so desperately that he wanted to forgo the speech he had attempted to prepare in his car on the way to Georgetown and just hold her until the world ended. With the press of a button, he shut off the stereo and noticed her body stiffen. She knew he was here, and she wasn't exactly jumping for joy. Scully stifled a sob and drew herself into a tight ball, putting up armor to protect herself from him. Not physically, of course, this was a mental battle. "Mulder," she said coldly, "what are you doing here?". If looks could kill, he would be dead ten times over. "You asked me a question, and I came to answer it," his voice was cool, and collected, quite the opposite of what he was feeling. "What question would that be. I recall asking many," "You asked why I cared that you slept with Ed Jerse." She shook her head, "First of all, I didn't fuck him, Mulder, not that its any of your business. Second of all, the question was rhetorical. I got all the answers I needed in your silence." He moved closer to her, only to be met by a glare so harsh that even an army commander would run away in fright. But he knew better than to run, he knew better than to give her space and time to think. She may have thought she needed those things, but on the contrary, it only seemed to make things worse. It was at that point when they dropped the subjects that so desperately needed to be talked about. "I'm answering it, Scully." Another step towards the bed. "I care. I will always care. It doesn't matter to me as much that you did or did not sleep with Jerse." Another step. He was dangerously close now. "What does matter is that you honestly believe that I don't care about you. Care for you." He took the final step, closing the distance between them. "I care, Scully, because I love you." There, he had said it, those three little words that had been at the tip of his tongue for years. Now, the anticipation settled within him, waiting for her response to his unasked question. He suspected she did, or at least he hoped. But was hope enough to put everything they had worked for over the course of 4, nearly 5 years? Was the slim chance that she might love him in return worth risking the partnership and friendship that had developed so strongly between them? Whatever the answer be, it was too late to take anything back, or change the words he said. He didn't want to anyway. And then she reached up her small hand to his face... and then she slapped him with every ounce of fury in her being. He recoiled back away from where she sat, nearly falling on the ground from the force in her blow. "You bastard," she hissed, fire shooting from her icy blue eyes, "You fucking insensitive bastard. You tell me just what I want to hear so that I won't leave you. It would take too long to train another partner to follow you on your ridiculous cases, wouldn't it Mulder? You'd even have to do some paperwork once in a while, God forbid. I am so sorry, Mulder. See me dripping with sympathy. Go find yourself some leggy brunette who will abide your every beck and call." She could feel the tears forming again and as desperately as she tried, she could not keep one from dripping down her flushed cheek. Not to be deterred, Mulder approached her once more, looking at her earnestly and honestly. Her words had hurt him more than he could say, but he had to make it clear once and for all, how deeply his feelings for her ran. "Scully," he wiped the crystal tear from her delicate skin, searching her posture for signs of resistance. He found none. Her body was limp and her head hung low. She wouldn't look at him. "Scully, you have to believe me. This is not an attempt to get you to stay. When I told you that I love you, I said it because I needed to, and because I felt you needed to know it. Look at me," He tipped her chin upward so that she was looking at him. When she finally made eye contact, the pain he saw in her blue orbs nearly drove him to tears. "Dana Scully, I love you. I love every little thing about you. I love that you contradict absolutely everything. I love that, even when we're eating at McDonalds, you order the healthiest thing on the menu. I love the way you quirk your left eyebrow at me when I'm going off on yet another one of my theories. I love that I know you'll be there to save my ass because it always needs saving. I love your hair, even though I can't see its real color. I love your skin, and how soft it is. I love the whole you, Scully. There's not a thing about you I don't love. "I want to wake up every morning with you lying peacefully in my arms. I want to see you walking around our apartment barefoot. I want to bring you breakfast in bed and I want to see you every night at dinner. But most of all, I want you to be happy." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I'm not asking you to love me back, I just want to make sure..." He was cut off by a pair of lips upon his own. A pair of lips belonging to the one and only Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully. Their kiss was brief, but gentle, and when Mulder pulled away in surprise, he was astonished at the look on his partners' face. Pure bliss. And something else he dared not hope for. Love. "Scully..." "Shut up, Mulder." She kissed him again. "My turn. You are too goddamned romantic for me to resist. All I can think of to say, is that I love you too, Mulder." "That'll do," he interrupted. "I wasn't done. I love you. I don't know why or how or when, I just know I love you so much it hurts." Mulder sat down on the bed beside her, taking her small form in the cavern of his arms. Sighing softly, Scully relaxed into his embrace, all the anger and tension of earlier completely drained away. He turned toward her, his intent clear. His lips neared hers slowly, giving her plenty of time to back away. For Scully, though, he was giving her too much time. So she solved that problem, pulling him down to her with the ferocity and passion of a woman in love. "Hey Mulder?" she said in between kisses, "Are you sure you love the part of me that is always second guessing you?" "Well..." Silence once again enveloped the room, save for the muffled moans and various other noises associating with becoming lovers. No, Scully had been wrong when she said she had loved other men like Mulder. Never before had she loved anyone quite like him and never again would she love anyone so deeply, fully, and completely. ~*~*~ End*~*~* Authors Notes: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Like I mentioned earlier, this is my first dabble into angst, and I'd like to know your opinions. Also, I am beta-free and looking for one! Feedback is always appreciated at JC_Sizzlinspike827@yahoo.com