Title: Personal
Author: DM
E-mail:  unruhe1121@hotmail.com
Feedback: is treasured and always replied to.
Rating: PG
Category: V, R
Key words: Mulder/Scully Romance
Spoilers: Two Fathers/One Son
Disclaimer: Not mine; they belong to 1013 Productions, FOX, and most
importantly, David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson.
Summary: “Making it personal isn’t easy, but it sure is rewarding.”
Notes: This is the fifth vignette in a series that follows Mulder and
Scully through the episodes in Season 6, beginning with Rain King. It’s
safe to say that it may be read on its own, but the series goes as follows:
‘Kroner’
‘Georgetown’
‘One Simple Kiss’
‘We All Make Mistakes’
‘Personal’
They may all be found here: http://www.geocities.com/dmldr42/fanfiction.html
All of my other stories may be found at my website:
http://www.geocities.com/dmldr42
And, last but certainly not least. . . many, many thanks to Carol A.
for, well. . . for everything. Not only is she a fantastic beta, but a
wonderful friend too. Thank you.


Personal
By DM

If the past seventy-two hours hadn’t occurred, I’d use my key to let
myself into my partner’s home, but not tonight. Not after everything
that’s happened.

My knock is unintentionally soft. I’m betting she knows it’s me before
she answers, though. She always knows.

“Scully,” I greet her, feeling her out, testing the waters.

“Come in, Mulder,” she sighs and I’m relieved. At least she’s not
slamming the door in my face. It wouldn’t be undeserved, but it would be
un-Scully. She’s never shut me out, even when I’ve screwed up.

“Have a seat,” she gestures towards the couch and I sit down, leaving my
jacket on. Like a shield, I muse, protecting me. She’ll understand, I
tell myself, but a part of me won’t blame her if she doesn’t.

She sits down on the chair opposite me, several feet separating us.
Moments pass in utter silence. The air is heavy with tension.

I came over tonight to deliver some news, both good and bad. . . and to
apologize. I start with the good news, hoping it will put her in better
spirits before I remind her of what a jerk I’ve been. Not that she’s
likely to have forgotten.

“I just received a call from Assistant Director Kersh. We’ve been
officially reassigned to the X-Files. . . again.” Her face remains
neutral, as if I’ve just expressed my thoughts on the weather.
“Providing, of course, that we accept the assignment.”

She nods, “I see.”

“We have a meeting Monday morning with Kersh; I told him we would
consider his request. . .  you know, make him sweat a little.” I try to
break the tension with a joke even I admit is bad, but it isn’t working.

“I’ll think about it,” she says and I do a double take before I realize
she’s serious.

I can’t believe it and quickly try to school my face so she won’t detect
my surprise. “Scully. . . “

“I just have to know that we’re fighting the same fight, Mulder, “ she
starts before I have a chance to open my mouth. “I know you feel
differently, but this is a *personal* decision.”

Wow. Well, talk about hard to swallow. Yeah, I deserved it, but didn’t
expect it.

It’s the first time we’ve had the opportunity to talk about what
happened at the Gunman’s. I left that night feeling troubled. Scully’s
accusations about Diana had caught me off guard, and as I cooled down, I
realized my response had left her feeling shaken too. Scully deserved
more respect than I’d given her. At the very least, I owed it to her to
investigate her suspicions. So, I investigated, not nearly prepared for
the truths that were revealed.

I’m ready to confess my sins. I know I was wrong; it’s all that I have
to offer at this point.

“I need to tell you something, Scully.” She just looks at me; her face
is guarded, protected by a wall of ice. The warmth that usually exudes
from my partner has been replaced by a chill that sinks to the very core
of my being.

“I didn’t want to believe you. I left the guys’ place angry. . .
especially in light of--” I’m stuck for the right words.  “. . .a part
of me believed you were just jealous.”

At this she glances down. This is an aspect of our lives that she’s
still not familiar enough with to keep up the façade. I know this, and I
do it to remind her of what’s truly at stake. Not just the X-Files, but us.

“I trusted Diana. . .  I trusted that her loyalties were to me, to the
X-Files. I couldn’t believe that she would lie to me.” She shifts a
little; I assume she feels uncomfortable with what she’s hearing. “But I
realized that despite that, I forgot about my own loyalties.” I lean
forward far enough to take her hand in mine, “It *is* personal, Scully.
I do trust you; I hope you know that. I’m not proud of the way I acted.”

She takes a moment, digesting the things I’ve said, but remains
absolutely still, her hand limp in mine. I wait, trying to read her,
trying to see past the cool exterior she’s mastered over the years. 

When she still doesn’t say anything, I try again, “Scully?”

“Words are cheap, Mulder.”

I feel as though I’ve been kicked in the stomach. Hard. I’m suddenly
afraid that I might have finally made a mistake there’s no hope of
correcting. But then she throws me a lifeline.

“But I believe you think you trust me.” Granted it’s not a sturdy line,
but I grasp hold of it, not daring to let go.

“Scully, I-“

She lets out a long sigh, so I stop. I really don’t know what to say
anyway. “I don’t know, Mulder.” She shakes her head in defeat and rises
from the chair. She walks across the room, keeping her back to me.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have made it personal. Maybe this is just one more
reason why we shouldn’t be doing this.”

I sit up straight. I don’t like where this train of thought is taking her.

“You trust me to watch your back; you trust me to traipse all over the
globe with you in search of the truth. . . you trust me as your partner,
but not when it gets personal.” I open my mouth to speak, but she turns
around and for the first time I can see the look on her face. She’s
serious and I’m seriously about ready to be sick. “I’ll admit it; I
don’t like Agent Fowley. Part of those feelings are personal, yes, but
that’s not why I called you to the Gunman’s. That’s not why I don’t
trust her. I had proof, Mulder. I had enough proof to warrant suspicion
and you wouldn’t listen; you wouldn’t trust me.”

I’m up and out of my seat by the time she’s finished. I’m standing right
in front of her, but afraid to touch her. I did trust her, I just had a
hard time admitting I could be wrong, admitting that Diana was capable
of such deceit.

“I-“

“Don’t, Mulder.” She looks deep into my eyes, piercing my soul with her
gaze. “If we weren’t. . . involved,” she swallows the word, searching
for a way to describe what we’ve become. “Would you have listened to me?
Would you have assumed I was jealous? I know you trust me, Mulder, just
not in the way we need to make this work.”

I need to clear things up now, or something tells me there won’t be a
second chance.

“I trust you, Scully. I just didn’t like what I was hearing. I was
stubborn.”

She rolls her eyes, obviously disbelieving my sincerity. “Mulder-“

“I went to Diana’s apartment after I left the Gunman’s. The things you
said, I didn’t want to believe them, but you were right. There were too
many unanswered questions, so I went looking for answers.”

I pause, waiting for some kind of reaction, but she doesn’t say a word.
“I didn’t find any proof, but proof found me.”

“What did you find?” she asks, not quite believing me yet.

“Spender, the smoking man. He paid Diana a visit while I was looking
through her apartment. Let himself right in, made himself at home.”

“CGB Spender?” I think I see a smidgen of shock register across her face
as she begins to put the pieces together. She’s had her doubts, and
they’ve just been confirmed.

“We had a nice little chat.”

“He directed you to El Rico Air Force Base. . .”

I nod my head. “Claimed he was looking for his son, Agent Spender.”

“It was a trap, then. . . he knew all along. . .”

“No,” I shake my head, I’ve been thinking about this. “I don’t think so.
It was a trap, but not orchestrated by Spender.”

“Do you think he’s dead, one of the victims?” A hope shines through her
eyes and it almost hurts me to tell her what I’ve just now discovered on
my way over here.

“No,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Scully, we’ve been reassigned to the
X-Files, but we won’t be able to use our office for a while.”

She looks confused, silently waiting for me to explain.

“The basement will be considered a crime scene until further notice. An
Agent was shot there this afternoon, and from the amount of blood found,
appears to have been killed.”

“What? Who?”

“From blood tests, they’re assuming it was Jeffrey Spender, although
they’ve yet to turn up a body.” I feel a surge of sorrow for the agent I
spent so much time despising. He was just another pawn in the game, not
willing to play by Their rules and he paid the price. I have to wonder
sometimes why my own life has been spared.

Scully is physically taken aback by the news, she leaves my side and
this time, takes a seat on the couch.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing, Mulder. You think Spender killed his
own son?”

“That surprises you?” I approach her, taking a seat on the couch close
to her, so close that my thigh brushes against hers.

“No,” she looks up at me, eyes wide. “It’s disconcerting how many things
don’t surprise me anymore.”

“Hazard of the trade.”

She pauses for a moment, and I wait, thankful that we’ve reached this
point. I’m relieved; I think things are going to be okay.

Then, as if my relief isn’t enough, she extends her version of an olive
branch. “I’m sorry about Diana, Mulder. I just couldn’t bear seeing you
hurt.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen. . . you have no idea how sorry.”

“I didn’t make it easy for you either. I know she’s your friend.”

“Don’t ever make it easy for me, Scully.”

She smiles and it’s not until I see it travel to her eyes that I *know*
we’re going to be okay.

I bring her forehead to my lips and suddenly I’m struck with how
fortunate I am to have her in my life, to be able to kiss her in moments
like this.

I pull away but only to move my lips over her own. This is right; this
is where I need to be.

After several moments she rests her head on my chest.

“Does this mean we’re okay?” I ask, needing to hear her say it.

“I think that’s a safe assumption.”

“Do I have to tell Kersh that I’m flying solo? “

She pulls back and looks into my eyes, then smiles. Her lips making
their way back to mine is all the answer I need.

Making it personal isn’t easy, but it sure is rewarding.

End.