Title: The Benefit of the Doubt
Author: Catherine Earnshaw
Rating: NC-17
Archive: I'm sending it to Ephemeral, Gossamer
and all-xf. Anywhere else, please let me know, but
you'll be welcome.
Category: RST, Post-Ep for Field Trip
Pairings: Mulder/Scully
Spoilers: End Game, Fight the Future, Triangle,
Milagro
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and the X-Files
belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. But
they'd be nothing without David Duchovny and Gillian
Anderson. I mean no copyright infringement with my
story; I just love them too much to let go of them.
The rating of "NC-17" is trademarked by the
MPAA.
Summary: The aftermath of the Schiff case brings
Mulder and Scully together, in more than one way.
Written for Fandomonium's "A Virtual Season of Smut
- Season Six" Challenge.
Special thanks, as always, to my beta team, Mimic117
and Cybill. You make me want to outdo myself, ladies.
This story is dedicated to Deia, Sallie, Laura, Robin,
Linda, Toniann and Lidia. They know why.
***
So we could rave on, darling, you and I,
until the stars tick out a lullaby
    about each cosmic pro and con;
nothing changes, for all the blazing of
our drastic jargon, but clock hands that move
    implacably from twelve to one.
We raise our arguments like sitting ducks
to knock them down with logic or with luck
    and contradict ourselves for fun;
the waitress holds our coats and we put on
the raw wind like a scarf; love is a faun
    who insists his playmates run.
("Love is a Parallax", Sylvia Plath)
***
The Benefit of the Doubt
The storm outside was mild compared to the electricity
in the room.
They had just been released from the hospital after that
terrible experience with the gigantic fungus. Scully was
sitting on her couch, quietly sipping some hot tea while
Mulder sat at her dinner table. He'd borrowed her laptop
to write the report on the case and occasionally raised
his head from his work to look at her. He had barely
written two paragraphs in the last hour. Her computer
was turned on, but she hadn't gotten near it yet; their
off-duty work was going nowhere. She seemed to be immersed
in thought, and he wondered, as he gazed at her, if her
mind was as far from Angela and Wallace Schiff as his.
The case had drained them both. It ended better than it
began, though; a slideshow that led to bitter argument.
She still doubted him, after all those years -- no, never
him, he corrected himself as soon as the words entered his
mind, but his far-fetched theories. It still hurt, anyway.
<"Scully, in six years, how... how often have I been wrong?
No, seriously. I mean, every time I bring you a case we go
through this perfunctory dance. You tell me I'm not being
scientifically rigorous and that I'm off my nut, and then
in the end who turns out to be right like 98.9% of the time?
I just think I've... earned the benefit of the doubt here.">
He couldn't blame her for being who she was. He loved her
for her scientific mind as much as for her unwavering courage
and loyal heart. Scully wouldn't go against her conscience
and tell him he was right before she had proof.
She would, however, take his hand when he reached out to
her. As always. As no one else ever had. In that ambulance,
covered in dirt and barely conscious, Mulder had been more
certain than ever that Scully was his lifeline.
He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and went
back to typing, until she broke the silence.
"You were dead, you know."
He looked at her, alarmed. "What?"
"Dead. I saw you inside that coffin. I felt... nothing. As
if I had been sedated. Numb."
"Scully. You were hallucinating. It wasn't real. I'm here
and I'm very much alive."
"I know. I know it can't be a memory. It didn't happen. But
I saw you dead. And I can't stop thinking. Another close call.
How many more until one of us really goes, Mulder? It's
amazing we've gotten this far."
He stood up, took off his glasses and went to sit beside her
on the couch. She seemed tired, looking at her empty tea mug
as if the truth they sought could be found inside the small
object. He took the mug from her hands, set it on the table
and raised her chin with a steady hand.
"Scully. Look at me."
Her blue eyes were dry -- it awed him how composed she
always managed to stay. But he could see the doubt floating
there.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. I'm just thinking."
He chuckled. "You think too much, Doc. What you need now is
a little dreaming. Why don't you go to bed while I finish the
report? I'll lock the door when I leave."
"Don't leave. I don't want to be alone."
Her voice was firm, but he could see her hands shaking in her
lap. She lowered her head again.
"Then I'll sleep here on the couch. Just call me if you need
me. I'll be right here."
"I don't want you to sleep on the couch. I want you to stay
with me. I... I need you."
Mulder was awestruck. Whenever he'd imagined a situation
where the walls they had built around their real feelings for
each other would finally crumble down, all the scenarios had
involved himself taking the first tentative step. God knew he
had tried.
<"You are my one in five billion.">
<"You kept me honest.">
<"Scully, I love you.">
Trust Scully to just implode the concrete structure with a
simple sentence. But he decided to give her a way out, just
in case. "Scully, I'm not sure what you mean."
"Do you remember what Padgett said to you in the prison?" she
asked, finally raising her eyes to meet his.
Of course. Those words. <"Agent Scully is already in love.">
They had haunted him ever since.
He hesitated -- that was dangerous ground -- and finally
nodded.
"Funny how a stranger had the guts to say out loud what we
won't dare," she said, and then corrected herself. "What I
won't dare. You have said it. I just refused to accept it.
Actually, I wanted to believe you said that because you were
drugged... so I wouldn't have to do anything about it."
Mulder nodded again and bit his lower lip. He needed to find
the right words. One misstep and it'd all be lost. "I meant it.
But I thought that you'd given me a dignified way to deal with
that without feeling rejected. That you didn't want to hurt
my feelings."
"Jesus, we're such a mess, Mulder. How could you ever think I
would reject you?" Scully touched his shirt sleeve, her thumb
lingering where he knew she could feel his pulse, strong and
steady. She seemed to forget that all those he had loved had
deserted him somehow. Her eyes drifted to the window, where
rain splattered against the glass in rivulets.
Mulder put a finger under her chin and forced her to meet
his gaze again. "I love you, Scully."
The words were easy to say. There had been no need to swallow
them anymore. She was obviously taken aback, not quite
expecting that, but kept silent. Mulder went on, "There. I've
said it again. And I'm as sober as I'll ever get. Do you
believe me?"
"I want to believe," she said, softly. "I do believe. I just
don't want another day to pass without you knowing what you
mean to me. I'm not good with words, Mulder, and you know it.
I'm not good at showing my feelings either. But I'm willing
to learn."
He could sense it had taken a lot for her to open up like that.
Scully didn't admit need easily, yet she had told him up front
she needed him, not only then, but always. The whole situation
was weird, in a welcome way; they weren't  uncomfortable with
each other, or embarrassed, but there was a change in the air
they both were still struggling to acknowledge.
"Listen, Scully," he said, holding her hand, "we don't need
to rush things here, we--"
She snorted. "I'd hardly call six years a rush."
"I know. But we can't go back from where we stand now. I just
want to make sure we don't. I want to move forward. Doesn't
matter how long it takes."
He let go of her hand when she stood up and walked to the
window.
She spoke quietly as she stared at the downpour outside.
"You know this is the point of no return, don't you? Nothing
will ever be the same from now on."
Mulder smiled and quipped, "Cat's out of the bag, eh?"
She shook her head. "I wouldn't use that expression to describe
our acknowledgement of how we feel for each other, Mulder, but
I guess it's as good as any."
He was momentarily afraid he'd offended her with the tacky
remark, but let out the breath he was holding when she turned
to him and smiled. "I'm sorry, Scully, I didn't mean to sound
insensitive."
"Mulder, don't you think I'd be used to your peculiar sense
of humor after six years? I know what you meant. So, the cat's
out of the bag, so to speak. What now?"
"As much as I'd like to walk into the Hoover holding your hand, I
don't think it would be a wise decision."
"We need to be careful," she murmured. He could see she was scared.
Dana Scully was never scared. It saddened him a little that the
only thing which could cause her fear was their being together.
"I don't want to hide, Scully," he said. "I know it'll be
complicated, but I don't want to hide as if we were doing
something criminal."
"Mulder, if word gets out we're involved, Kersh will have the
perfect excuse to split us up. We have just gotten the X-Files back.
Do you really want to jeopardize that?"
How could she still doubt, he thought. "If it gets to the point
where I have to make a choice, I'll choose you, hands down, Scully."
She stared at him in disbelief. "You would leave the X-Files
behind? What about Samantha?"
"It wouldn't be the first time I've had to choose," he answered
truthfully. "Listen, I think we should leave this conversation
for tomorrow. We're both tired and stressed. We don't have to make
any decisions right now."
"My decision is pretty much made."
"And that would be?"
"I want us to be together."
"That's already been established," he joked, grinning.
"I want it tonight, Mulder," she affirmed, looking straight into
his eyes. The fierce blue of her gaze made his heart jump.
He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, and she leaned
into his caress, closing her eyes. "You know, Scully, I used to feel
guilty for wanting you this way," he said. "I used to think I
already demanded too much from you to ask for more. But I can't have
just a part of you. It has to be all or nothing."
"When has anything been halfway with you, Mulder?" she murmured,
stepping closer. He drew her into his embrace and she leaned her
forehead against his shoulder. Her arms snaked up his back. He
could smell her shampoo as he rubbed his chin on her hair.
Scully lifted her head and looked up at him. The glint in her eyes
was both a challenge and an invitation.
Mulder did what he did best. He jumped right in.
When he took her face in his hands, his thumbs drawing slow circles
over her cheeks, it seemed to him they had fallen into some kind of
time vortex, so familiar was the sensation. He had a vivid flashback
-- his dimly lit hallway, heart-wrenchingg pain crushing him at the
idea of losing her, a moment of anticipation and then all hell
breaking loose as she fell unconscious onto the floor.
"Mulder?" Her voice called him back from his memory, and he blinked,
focusing on her concerned gaze. "There you are, I thought I had lost
you there for a moment."
"Would you have left me?"
She frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Salt Lake City. Would you have really gone?"
She sighed, and he could see she understood what he meant.
"No, Mulder. I'd have left the Bureau, but never you. You need to
know that."
"Scully--" His hands dropped to her shoulders, squeezing softly.
"Let me talk," she interrupted, "before I lose my nerve." He
nodded, and she continued, "I was so distraught that evening
in your hallway. I had just listened to Skinner tell me I would
be transferred to a field office, working with God only knows
who, and I panicked. It finally hit me, Mulder. I told you the
Bureau didn't hold the same interest for me, and it was true.
Not without you as my partner."
Mulder's arms circled her waist and he pulled her close. Scully
buried her face in the crook of his neck and whispered,
"I was terrified. I didn't want to feel like that, I never meant
to love you like this."
His hands moved up and down her back. "Why?" he asked, his voice
strained.
"Because I knew I'd lose myself and never find my way back."
His only answer was to pull her even closer, as if he could get
her under his skin. She went willingly, her arms going around
his neck, her hands in his hair. She leaned back, caressing his
forehead, standing on tiptoe so she could reach high enough to
kiss it, and Mulder laughed.
"What?" she asked, smiling.
"I guess my forehead is definitely becoming an erogenous zone."
That broke the tension, which was what both of them needed.
Scully let go of his head and started giggling. The giggles soon
turned into a full-hearted laugh. She was gorgeous when she smiled,
but a laughing Scully was simply magnificent.
She laughed so hard, she actually cried; he wiped the tears
streaming down her cheeks with a fingertip and traced the outline
of her nose, down to her lips. Their eyes met and locked, and Scully
caught his hand, placing an open-mouthed kiss on his palm without
breaking eye contact.
"We should be like this more often, Mulder," she said, still
holding his hand. "We should enjoy life more. Enjoy each other's
company. God knows we deserve it."
He nodded, his thumb caressing her fingers. "I'd do anything to
see you happy, you know that."
"I'd like you to do something, then."
"What is it?"
"Take me to your place."
Mulder frowned. He couldn't remember the last time he had the
apartment cleaned. "Um, Scully, I--"
"I don't care how messy it is, Mulder. I've been there enough
times and it's never been Good Housekeeping cover material.
Just take me to your place, will you?"
***
They drove to Alexandria in companionable silence, Elvis'
Greatest Hits CD playing on Mulder's car stereo. He tapped his
fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of Jailhouse Rock
and Scully smiled. The storm had slowed down to light rain and
she drew slow circles on the fogged window. It was a moment of
normalcy, something Mulder knew she craved and really cherished, a
nd he was deeply content to be able to give it to her.
When he parked the car behind his apartment building, she finally
spoke. "You must know why I asked you to come here."
"I wasn't profiling you on the way, Scully," he said, smiling.
"You tell me."
"Too many bad memories at my place. Tooms, Duane Barry, Melissa.
I don't want anything to spoil tonight. And we have... unfinished
business here. So to speak."
"Unfinished business?"
"Uh-huh," she nodded, getting out of the car.
Mulder shook his head, amused, wondering what she was up to. His
curiosity was piqued -- a mischievous Scully was something to
behold. He finally understood what she had meant when he opened
his apartment door and she didn't go in.
Scully stood in the middle of his hallway, her head tilted sideways,
a smile on her face. "Unfinished business, Mulder."
He took two steps toward her and then she was in his arms, her
mouth seeking his.
It wasn't a new lovers' tentative kind of kiss; it was sure,
deliberate, deep. Her hands went up his back; his fingers were
buried in her hair. He started walking backwards into the apartment
as she tried to get his jacket off without breaking the kiss. She
eventually gave up and stepped back, removing her coat and watching
him as he threw his jacket on the floor.
Mulder wanted to take things slow but soon realized that would be
impossible. There was too much built-up tension, too much need, too
many repressed feelings. He kicked the door closed and pressed her
against it, hoisting her up as she threw her arms around his neck
and circled his waist with her legs. She grabbed him by the back of
his neck and kissed him again, her other hand sliding down his
shoulder to find the buttons of his blue dress shirt. His hands
tightened their grip under her thighs as she freed the buttons from
the holes and lowered her mouth to his neck, her breath warm on his
skin.
It was sensory overload -- her toned muscles flexing in his hands,
her fingernails raking his chest and her tongue on his collarbone.
Mulder spun around, praying that his legs wouldn't fail him, and
walked toward his living room, pausing at the door.
"Bedroom?" he asked, his voice unsteady.
"No, too far away." She bit his earlobe. "Besides, I'm afraid of
what I'll see behind that door."
"Very funny," he groaned, sitting down on the couch and pulling
her onto his lap. The gurgle from the fish tank and the splatter
of the returning rain on the window filled Mulder's ears and he
smiled. Water. Water everywhere. Scully loved water -- the sea,
her long baths, even the rain seemed to enthrall her.
She was straddling him. He could smell her perfume. This is
perfect, he thought. She is perfect. Life can't get any better
than this.
Her hands had found his belt and she dealt with the buckle deftly
-- it stunned him how assertive she was, how she had taken the
initiative. She was seducing him, he realized with a smile. Mulder
decided to follow her lead, let her set the pace, deal the cards.
That was something he could give her.
Scully smiled back, crossed her arms in front of her chest and
took off her sweater, revealing a plain, strapless white bra
which turned Mulder's arousal up several notches. She didn't
need lacy or sexy stuff to excite him. He'd make sure to fill
her drawers with Victoria's Secret-labeled lingerie sometime, but
that'd be just for fun. Raw, unbridled Scully was enough to send
his senses reeling.
He buried his face between her breasts and his hands moved to the
clasp on her back. The bra was on the floor in seconds. Scully
grabbed his head, directing his mouth to where she wanted it. She
shuddered at the first contact and he tightened his grip around
her waist. Scully moaned softly, her hands raking his hair, her
knees squeezing his thighs.
He looked up at her as she moved her hands to his face, tracing each
feature. Her gaze was intent. She looked serene, despite the state
she was in; hair tousled, face flushed and breathless. She lowered
her lips to his forehead, moved lower and slanted her mouth over
his. He let her take control of the kiss, reveling in the feeling
of her tongue exploring his mouth.
Scully broke the kiss, her hands traveling down his chest under his
shirt. She raised an eyebrow at him and he took if off, granting her
better access to his shoulders and ribcage. She stood up, then knelt
on the floor to remove his boots and socks. Leaning forward, she
reached for his zipper. He understood her plan and leaned back
so she could grab the pull. He had to hold his breath as her hands
came in contact with his erection. She grabbed the waistband of
his jeans and he lifted his hips so she could take the garment
off.
Mulder hadn't graduated top of his class in Oxford without good
reason. He could see what Scully was trying to do; she wasn't the
kind of person to openly speak her mind about her feelings, so she
needed to show them by acting. He literally laid back to enjoy the
ride -- he hardly ever indulged in simply letting himself be loved.
Combining that with giving Scully some well-deserved joy just
about overwhelmed him.
She stood up and removed her boots and trousers, her eyes never
leaving his as he watched her impromptu strip-tease, mesmerized.
She was a vision before his eyes. It was his Scully Fantasy number
one: standing in front of him, wearing only bikini-style panties,
her cross necklace, and a hungry look in her eyes.
Mulder held out his hand and she moved closer. He hooked his thumbs
on her panties and pulled them down and off. She moved back onto
his lap, her arms going around his neck, her mouth grazing the
bullet scar on his shoulder. He reached down and found her wetness,
moving his fingers deftly until she gasped. Mulder suspected Scully
would be quiet and focused when making love, although he was certain
there would be an intensity in her which would match his own. He
was right. She bit her lips, made soft sounds, and moaned his name
while he pleased her -- nothing that would alarm his neighbors.
Nevertheless, there was unquestionable passion in the way her hands
traveled down his back, her mouth devoured his skin, her eyes locked
on his.
She held her breath as her muscles clenched around his fingers.
He must have done it right. She threw her head back and her hands
gripped his shoulders to the point of pain. Mulder watched as she
came, waited until she recovered.
His own need eventually urged him on and with a quick move, he
had Scully on her back, on his couch. He kissed her deeply as
she helped him take off his boxers and buried his face in her
hair, whispering his love for her. She didn't say anything,
choosing to demonstrate her approval instead. She hooked her
legs up around his waist and guided him inside her. He was glad
she had climaxed before, because he was so far gone that he knew
he wouldn't last long. He managed to set a rhythm that she matched
after the first tentative strokes and Mulder felt their connection
working in a totally different level, in the same perfect way.
He'd been in love before. He'd certainly been in lust. This was
partnership.
He raised his head from the cradle of her shoulder and looked at
her face. The way she looked at him as he loved her -- as they
loved each other -- did it for him. He let go, barely conscious
of her hands stroking his hair, gripping his arm, her lips on
his temple as he came. She pulled him into her embrace, caressing
his back soothingly as he shook in her arms, her name on his lips.
***
Deep inside his soul, Mulder had long ago accepted the
inevitability of it.
He was teetering between feeling elated and terrified, now that
the deed had been done. He knew he couldn't play the happy-go-lucky
part and take things as they came. There would be ramifications.
Scully would surely switch into full sensible-practical mode as
soon as she woke up, and he was expecting a confrontation. He
wanted to throw caution to the wind and kiss her on their bench
by the reflective pool; she would probably want to set ground rules
for their newfound relationship. It was part of the delicate balance
of their partnership, this clash of opinions, this battle of wills.
Scully turned over in her sleep, murmuring his name. He snaked an
arm around her stomach and pulled her close, burying his face in her
hair as his eyelids slid shut. Tomorrow could wait.
He'd loved her for so long. He had trouble putting his finger on
the precise moment when Dana Scully took hold of his heart, but it
did seem like forever. Mulder wasn't a love-struck romantic
who'd say it was love at first sight. He had his guard all the
way up when she knocked on his basement office door, and although
she caused an unexpected impression, it hadn't been the kind that
would eventually lead to a torrid Bureau affair.
She'd intrigued him, then she'd earned his respect, and before he
knew it she'd conquered his trust. Love had been the natural
consequence. It was just a matter of time, of finding the right
moment, the best opportunity. He'd played the coming-together
scenario uncountable times in his mind. Given his very fertile
imagination, the trigger for the final plunge had always been
something larger-than-life, overdramatic, edgy. Life-threatening
situations, heated fights; his couch, her bed, his desk, her dinner
table. Ripping each other's clothes off without consideration for
the hard-earned dollars spent on Armani's and Karan's; shoving her
against the file cabinet forgetting they were on the clock and any
bugs likely to be hidden all over their office; losing control after
a harsh case in an anonymous motel in Nowhere America.
In the end, it had been simple.  So much simpler than he ever
imagined.
The End