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Throw Mulder from the building by Foxfire

Scully goes to a conference. How does Mulder feel about that?

From: "Foxfire X" <foxfirex@hotmail.com>
Date: Tue, 14 Nov 2000 20:37:53 CST
Subject: Throw Mulder from the Building
Title:  Throw Mulder from the Building
Author:  FoxfireX
Rating:  PG-13
Spoilers:  Fight the Future, itsy bity one for Anasazi
Catagory: MSR
Disclaimer:  Not mine, nope, no way....Moose and Squirrel belong to CC, 1013
and Fox, don't sue me
"Do you really have to go to this conference Scully?"  That was as close to a whine as I've ever heard him get.  I know he doesn't like being left alone in the office, but this is important to me.
"Yes, Mulder, I do.  I've been waiting a long time for this forensics seminar to come around.  You're the one who keeps me in the autopsy bay so much of the time. Don't you think I ought to keep up on the latest techniques?" 
I have found in my years of dealing with my partner that if I let him think it's his idea, he'll be easier to deal with. There are times to be the strong, independent woman that I am, and there are times to feed this male ego that I'm strapped with in my life. He has called me early enough to catch me at home, although I fully expect him to call my cell again before the flight leaves. 
"Well, have a safe flight.  Call me after the conference."  He disconnects before I can respond, sounding lonely and a little lost. The funny thing is that I wouldn't go to Chicago today if he would ask me to stay.  Not the 'there are so many reports to be filed and I don't want to do it alone' style he usually hits me with, but the 'I'll miss you too much is you go' style he never uses.  But, those are the things that Mulder and I don't say to each other. 
Somewhere along the way we've made this pact that our true feelings will forever lie buried in our hearts, may they rest in peace.  What a laugh.  Peace is one thing I never quite achieve in his presence. I'll go to the seminar, attempt to listen to the lecture, and spend the whole time wondering what he's doing without me.  I'll call him at least twice, just to 'check in'.  He won't be fooled by the pretense, but I won't expect him to be.  It's a dance we perfected long ago, adding more steps with each passing year.
The flight is, thankfully, uneventful and short.  I don't fly well, and especially without Mulder sitting (or sleeping) next to me.  Even though he always manages to nap on flights, his presence is reassuring to me. The cab ride and the hotel check in are both simple.  I was fortunate enough to book a room in the same hotel the conference is being held in.  My plan is to stay one night, and fly out after the lecture tomorrow afternoon.  A strange thought grips me, did I tell Mulder that the conference was two
I chuckle to myself as I unpack  the few things I brought with me.  It's not as if we are married, how long I stay away should only concern A.D. Skinner as my boss.  I know I turned in my request for both days. The lecture room is large, with dozens of rows of tables.  I want to find a seat in the back of the room to remain unobtrusive, but I know that I'll gain more from the conference if I move toward the front.  Moving slowly down the center aisle I hear a familiar voice.
"Dana!  Dana Scully, over here".  I know that voice, I know that voice, I scan the crowd and my eyes are caught by a waving hand.
"Grant Mitchell, what are you doing here?"  I'm gathered in strong arms I haven't felt in years.  Grant was a one time love of my life, way back in the dark ages of college.  He's still blonde and handsome.  Blue eyes search mine, dimpled smile with perfect teeth tell me he's glad to see me.
"I'm here for the conference.  I'm guest lecturing, actually.  One of the docs on the program ended up with a schedule conflict, so I was asked to fill in.  I didn't know you went in to forensics, too".  He takes my hand and pulls me out the side door into the hallway.  We move over to the row of windows overlooking the garden and pool area.
"I'm not actually practicing medicine full time.  I'm with the FBI, I was recruited shortly after you left school.  But forensics are a part of what I do, so I'm here." 
I smile warmly at him, he brings back good memories for me.  We ended when he transferred to another school, deciding that a long distance relationship would be too difficult.  I feel no pain remembering our parting, just happy times we spent together.
"FBI?  Your kidding, so you fight crime and evil and stuff like that?"  His smile is blinding me.
"Something like that.  Actually I work on projects a little more removed from the mainstream, but it is definitely fighting evil and stuff like that."  I risk a glance at his left   hand, no ring, hmm wonder if he's involved.  Of course, my phone is ringing.  Mulder has a radar where I'm concerned that stops me in the midst of finding a life outside of him.  And I am powerless to resist.  "Excuse me, Grant.  I need to get this."  I smile apologetically and reach for my purse.  Grant grabs my arm.
"Tell you what, I have to get in there, but how about after the lecture you meet me here  and we'll go to dinner and catch up."  Did the rings just get louder?  More insistent?
"Sounds good, see you then."  I turn and snatch the phone from my bag.
"Scully"  why do I say my name?  I should just answer 'what do you want Mulder?'
"Hey Scully It's me.  I just wanted to make sure you landed safely."  How can I resist a man who is so concerned about me?  I literally begin to melt at the sound of his voice.  I melt for a man that I cannot have.
"I'm just about to go in to the conference room.  I'll call you tonight, OK?"
"Sure, call me when you get home."  Oops, damn.  I didn't tell him it was a two day conference.
"Um, Mulder the conference isn't over until tomorrow at three p.m., I won't be home until about seven."  I cringe, and wait for him to be upset.
"Oh, well, OK, then call me tonight from your room.  Bye Scully".  The tone is distant, maybe he's not that bothered by my absence after all. The lecture passes in a blur, as I knew it would.  I sit and think about Mulder, about Grant who is looking so handsome up on the stand.  I think about my life and the turns it has taken.  Mulder told me only two months ago to get as far away from him as I could, to go and be a doctor while I still can.  I assured him I couldn't leave him, or the search, or the files, or whatever you want to call this thing we do together.  But, mainly I can't leave him.  I know this in my heart. 
Even if I can't have him as more than my partner and my friend, I can't leave him.  The night in the hallway when his lips came so close to mine, I thought for an instant that my prayers were about to be answered.  A nightmare began, instead.  When it was all over, we remained our separate selves.  We never talk about that night and what might have been.  The fear of what might happen next if we take another step weighs on both of our minds.
I wait for Grant, catching his attention as he politely extracts himself from the few that have gathered to ask him questions about his research.
"There's a quiet place across the street, want to go there?"  He takes my hand and I allow it.  I'm not in the mood for small talk in this crowd.  I nod my head and we make our way to the door.  I listen carefully for the sound of my cell to ring.  He must know that someone else is touching me.  He always knows when something is not right in our world.  The phone remains silent.
We are seated in a corner of a small bistro.  Grant orders the wine and appetizer.  he reaches across the table and takes my hand again.
"It's been too long, Dana.  I hadn't realized how long until I saw you standing there.  Tell me you're not married with a dozen kids."  I plaster a smile for him, but his light comment hurts more that he will ever know.
"No, not married, no kids.  I guess I've been busy with my career, and haven't made the decision to slow down enough for family, yet."  He's rubbing the back of my hand, tracing my knuckles.  It's a pleasant sensation, but that's all it is. "How about you?"
"Divorced, one son, Tommy who's three now.  I see him on weekends, holidays, that kind of thing.  I loved her once, but my long hours did us in.  We drifted apart, she needed more out of our relationship than I had left at the end of the day."  He shrugs his shoulders, and I don't know what to say next.  His fingers continue tracing the slow pattern.  I guess it would be quite sensuous for a woman not in love with someone else.  Did I just go there?  How much wine have I had?  I giggle audibly, then realize I have to come up with something to say to cover it up.
"I just can't believe I ran into you today.  I'm sorry, but I'm a little tired and the wine is going to my head."  Boy is that pathetic.  But I hope he's buying it.
"Then it's working it's magic.  Maybe it'll get me invited back to your room."  His eyebrows rise suggestively, along with the devilish smile I remember so well.  There was a time that he could get anywhere with me with that smile.  Now it just makes me sad.  What the hell, maybe I should invite him back to my room.  It's not as if we're strangers, and it's been so long since I've been held by a man who wanted me.  They call me Ice Queen, but I don't feel cold inside.  Just lonely, longing for something that will never be.  Throwing my life and passion away on a man who will never make love to me. We get through dinner, Grant being his charming self.  He makes me laugh with his stories of the old days.  I feel like a real person, on a real date, having a real life.  A life without conspiracies, danger and death.  Before I realize what's happening, I'm telling him about Mulder, about some of the trials we've been through together.  Grant's looking at me with a thoughtful expression on his face. 
 Have I said too much?  Did I speak his name one too many times?  I change the subject to our families and I'm listening to the latest exploits of his irresponsible younger brother.  The conversation is lagging and before I know it we're leaving the restaurant and crossing back to the hotel.  The air is cool and it helps to clear my head a little.  I know the time is coming, will I let him in or say goodnight at the door.
He's holding my hand, talking about a mutual friend of ours, and the thriving practice he set up for himself in Seattle.  I catch a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn it's gone.  I know almost instinctively that it's Mulder. 
He's here.  But that's not possible.  Why would he come here?  He only comes to find me when he thinks I'm in danger, and I told him I'd call him tonight.  Oh well, I'm convincing myself it's just my imagination, that I want him to be here, so I'm creating him in my mind.I make a decision in the lobby.  I'm not returning home tomorrow evening. 
One more night here, just to see what will happen.  But I also decide that I will not take Grant up to my room tonight.  I need a night to process these emotions I'm feeling.  I do not want to use someone as kind as he is to make myself feel alive.  That wouldn't be fair to him, or to me.
"Thank you for dinner, I really enjoyed it."  He's standing close to me, looking down and smiling sadly into my eyes.
"So, this is it?  I really want to see you again, Dana.  I like being with you.  I always have. Have dinner with me again tomorrow?  I'm staying in Chicago one more night.  Please?"  He's holding both of my hands.
"I'd like that.  I've enjoyed being with you, too.  I'll see you at the conference tomorrow.  I'll get a seat on the front row so I can see you better."  I flash him a smile, and it seems to placate him.  He's leaning toward me, and as his lips are touching mine I swear I see the same figure from the street getting into the elevator behind Grant.
I close my eyes against the hallucination I know I'm having, and enjoy the sensation of being kissed.  Really kissed.  It's been a long time Dana old girl.  We break apart, and I turn to the elevator without a word.  We smile our good-byes and I disappear behind the sliding doors.
My mind is running in so many different directions, I barely manage the card key into the lock to my room.  The small light in the bathroom is on, casting filtered light across the floor.  The lock clicks behind me, and I instantly know that I'm not alone.  I'm not frightened.  I know it's him. I'm also not surprised.  He knew.  He knew that something was not right in our world, and he came.  I drop my bag and card on the small table in the entry. 
 I slide my suit jacket from my shoulders and let it drop on top of the dresser.  My shoes get kicked in the general direction of the closet. He won't announce his presence, so I'll play along. I cross to the bathroom, turn on the water, grab my robe from the hook and close the door behind me. 
Whatever this conversation is going to be, we're going to have it after I've washed Grant's scent off.  I don't know if he realizes I'm aware that he's here.  For the moment I don't care.  I'm so weary, in body and heart that I need a few minutes by myself, and the shower is going to give them to me.
The warm water soothes me, relaxes me.  I towel
 off and don my robe feeling better, ready to face the recriminations that are to follow.  What will he say?  My heart says probably nothing, he'll make up some excuse for having come, and leave again without opening up to me.  The dance, always the dance. The room has not changed as I come out of the bathroom.  He hasn't turned on any of the lights.  He remains in a chair in the corner, hidden in the shadows.  I cross to the bed, sit, then recline back to stare at the ceiling.  I wait.  He broke into my room, let him speak first.  Seconds tick by, I hear him breathe, the rate steadily increasing.  Finally he shifts,
leans his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands in front of him.
"Who is he?"  His voice is rough, scratchy and low.
"Someone I went out with in college.  His name is Gr.."
"DON'T!  Don't tell me his name, Scully.  I don't want to know."  His voice is razor sharp, he's seething, more angry than I've ever heard him.
"You're going to see him again?"  His tone is low again, the edge still there.
"He asked me to dinner again tomorrow night."  Too late I realize that I had told Mulder that I'd be home tomorrow night.
"Cancel."  Flat, angry.  Suddenly I'm pissed off beyond measure.  Who does he think he is to order me around, especially about my personal life. 
He can't cross the line between partners and lovers, so I'm supposed to stay static for the rest of my life?
"No."  I'm still lying flat on my back on the bed, my arms outstretched, the crucifix position, how apt.
"Call him and cancel, Scully.  I'm not asking."  If possible the edge to his voice is sharper now, and my temper is rising.  This man does not want to take on a red head in the middle of a royal mad.  I rise from the bed and cross to the door to the small balcony.  Not good enough, I throw open the doors and step out into the cool night air.  Air, that's what I need.  To cool my head before I grab Mulder by the front of the shirt and throw him over the railing.
He follows me out onto the balcony, he doesn't realize what imminent danger he's placing himself in. 
"Go away, Mulder.  I don't know what you think you're doing coming here and making demands of me, but I think you need to leave before I do something we'll both regret."  Surely I can turn on the tears when the cops arrive and swear I tried to stop him from jumping.
"I'm not leaving, and you're not big enough to throw me over.  Your gun is in your bag, not under your robe, and mine is hidden so you can't shoot me again.  Short of pulling the fire alarm and disturbing the entire hotel, your stuck."  He's standing behind me now, as close as possible without actually touching.  I can feel the heat from his body.  I start to sway back, toward the heat, when I catch myself and get angry all over again.
"So, what is this, Mulder, you don't want me but no one else can have me, either?  What kind of selfish bastard are you?  You treat me like an asexual being, you tell me I've saved you a thousand times over and try to kiss me, risk your life in the arctic to rescue me, then treat me like an asexual being again.  Are you trying to drive me insane, or do you enjoy angering the hell out of me?" 
I can't even turn to face him.  I've learned enough self defense techniques that I'm fairly certain I can flip him over this rail if I hit him low enough. Without my heels the top of my head brushes him mid chest.  A well placed shoulder, one good tug and it'll all be over but the investigation.  My next partner will be female or ugly, I swear it.
"How can you say I don't want you.  Every damn day I want you.  Every agonizing damn minute I want you.  Are you blind or intentionally stupid?  Every time I try to get close to you, you back away from me.  I'm sick of it.  No more running, Scully.  You stop tonight."  His voice is still low and rough.  The timbre vibrates through my back, I feel it rumble through my heart.
"Call me stupid one more time and I'll find your gun.  Remember I hit you where I aimed the last time, don't make me pick a new target.  If you want me you have a strange way of showing it, Mulder.  Why did it take seeing me with him to make you let go of this emotional block you've had.  It didn't have to end up in a fight."
"I'm not fighting, I'm just telling you you're not seeing him again.  I don't expect to be contradicted, ergo no fight."  The smug tone is too much.  I whirl on him determined to slap him as hard as possible, right before I send him plunging to his death, but he reads my thoughts, he catches my wrist before I can make contact with his beautiful, smirking face.  "You know Scully, you're gorgeous when your angry." 
The faint light from the city skyline and the glow of the moon catches him across the eyes.  They're feral, possessive, burning.  His mouth descends on mine, before I can take a breath to curse him again he's covering my lips with his own. I'm losing my balance, he's still holding one wrist, my other hand grips the front of his shirt, hoping to keep me from actually swooning in his arms.  No one actually swoons anymore do they?  Not since the corset went out of style anyway.
He's breaking away from my mouth, our breath coming in short gasps.  He kisses my cheek, my eyes, my temple, the column of my neck, murmuring in between contact with my skin, words I'm barely comprehending.  Words continue to spill from his lips, "mine", "so beautiful", "love you", punctuated with kisses down my neck across to my shoulder, he bares as he goes. 
I know that my heart is his, and his heart is mine.  I've always known it, and tonight we will consumate that knowledge.  We're beginning a journey here that we will continue on for the rest of our lives. 
 At least until the next time he starts a fight and I really do throw him from a building.



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