Title: S.N.A.F.U. Part 8 Chapters 23-24b
Author: Emily Sim
Headers: see part 1

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Chapter 23

Diana Fowley's mouth was drawn in a hard, straight line. Her 
knuckles were white from where she gripped the edge of the table 
and her eyes were riveted on the scene unfolding before her. She 
had been told things had changed between the two partners, but 
seeing it with her own eyes forced the reality of it upon her. 
She had come back to find her place usurped by a short redhead 
with attitude.  

"Why wasn't I called back before this?"

"You've been called now." Spender ground his cigarette out under 
his foot and lit another. 

"Do you have to smoke those in here?"

"I'll smoke wherever I wish."

"How long?"

"How long what, Diana? How long have they been intimate? Or how 
long have they wanted to?"

"You bastard."

"Now, now. No need to fret. The situation is well being 
addressed. This --" he indicated the scene on the monitor "is 
being handled."

They were both silent as the figures on the screen began to move 
again. Spender reached forward and hit a switch, turning the 
volume on. 

"Love you, Scully. For so long."

"Me too. Oh, right there."

Diana reached across and flicked it off. "I don't need to hear 
it; I can see what they're doing just fine."

Spender laughed. 

"How is it 'being handled'?" Diana's voice was quiet.

"That isn't your concern right now."

"Then why the hell did you call me back here? To throw this in my 
face?"

"It was necessary. He's going to need you soon. I just want you 
to be prepared, to know what you're up against."

Diana found she couldn't draw her eyes away from the screen. 
Watching her ex-lover with someone else was difficult, 
particularly when the 'ex' portion of the equation was something 
she had never really been in agreement with. It had been thrust 
upon her 'for the good of the cause'. 

Her sudden departure to Europe had hurt him, she knew. It was a 
forced exile, engineered by God knows who within the 
organization. She was still bitter, but underneath it all she 
believed in what they were doing, perhaps not always the methods, 
but certainly the end results would justify those. When she was 
pulled a second time, after the Gibson Praise fiasco, she knew 
she'd destroyed any remaining trust he had in her. She wondered 
if Spender realized how thin her connection to Fox was. 

"Diana." His tone was sharp, bringing her focus back to the 
monitor.

"What?"

"Watch and learn."

"I don't need to watch to know how to reach him sexually. You 
forget; it was me who seduced him all those years ago."

"I'm not concerned in you learning new sexual techniques, my 
dear; I'm quite familiar with your expertise in that arena." 

He let his hand drift over one breast, squeezing lightly, and she 
held in a shudder.  

"I want you to pay attention to the emotion, the commitment, to 
what they say. Krycek can give you the tape later and you can 
listen on your own. I'm not that insensitive. It won't be easy 
this time, to drive a wedge between them."

"And whose fault would that be? If I had been here, been allowed 
to continue my work near him, this might not be happening."

She pointed to the screen where Mulder was now, clearly, 
thrusting into Scully for all he was worth. His naked ass filled 
the tiny screen and she couldn't stop the ache between her legs. 
She remembered how good a lover he was. 

"Ah, is that jealousy I hear? Or frustration?" He moved behind 
her and reached around to caress her breasts through her sweater. 
She found herself responding despite her disdain for this man and 
sorrow for all he had taken from her.

As his hands dipped lower, pulling her pants open, she shut her 
eyes and allowed herself to pretend it was Fox's hands once 
again. 

On the screen the two lovers curled against one another and 
drifted off to sleep. 

***********

Scully couldn't sleep. Mulder was wrapped around her, snoring 
softly. The noise wasn't enough to keep her awake; it was the 
strangeness of having Mulder in her bed. She had slept next to 
him before, but never naked. The entire evening had seemed 
surreal, like it was happening to someone else. 

She touched her lips. They felt swollen, bruised from him. She'd 
come twice, and she couldn't recall any other time when sex had 
been that good. One minute she had been in Mulder's arms, his 
offer of comfort allowing her to feel secure, grounded for the 
first time since Krycek had dropped of the pictures disturbing 
her ordered world, and the next -- oh God, the next they were 
both naked and he was buried in her, carrying her to the bedroom. 
Remembering it was enough to make her wet again. 

She wondered if she should be embarrassed at how eager she had 
been, how easily he aroused her. Mind you, he didn't seem to be 
complaining at the time. She could blame the extra hormones -- 
she was going to hold onto that one in case she needed it -- but 
it was more likely that her ability to keep tight control on 
feelings had been over ruled by something else. 

She hesitated to say love, despite Mulder's propensity for saying 
it every five minutes as he thrust in and out of her. She wasn't 
sure how she should take that. Declarations of undying love in 
the middle of sex were not that unusual. 

He had asked her why she wanted to have a baby; actually, he'd 
asked why they were trying to have a baby. There were questions 
inherent in that one question that she couldn't answer. Couldn't 
or wouldn't? Things had got rather heated right after that -- did 
she unconsciously use her body to shut him up? Or did her 
subconscious push forward because it was trying to tell her 
something? 

She really didn't have an answer for him. Not one that she was 
willing to share right now. Two failures had tempered her hope 
that this last procedure would succeed. And there was no use 
delving into any relevant discussion with that hanging over their 
heads. 

She sighed and wiggled out from under Mulder's arms, putting some 
distance between them. He was too close.

She willed her brain to stop analyzing and thinking so that she 
could get some sleep, but wasn't surprised to find it an almost 
impossible task with the object of her thoughts still too close. 
It was a long time before sleep claimed her.

***********

Chapter 24a


Scully hadn't expected to find him still there in the morning, so 
his note wasn't a surprise. The hot coffee waiting in the carafe 
was a nice touch though. She wasn't sure how to take either the 
night before or the morning after. It was all so.... one night 
stand-ish. 

There was a tingling ache that remained from their activities 
last night. Sex? Fucking? Coitus? Fornication? Copulation? Making 
love? She had lain awake much of the night contemplating what had 
occurred, and still she hesitated to name what they'd done at 
this point in time. He wouldn't be the first man to claim undying 
love in the heat of passion, hers or his. 

She sighed and grabbed a cup from the cupboard. She was sore, 
tired, and still emotionally wobbly. Not a good combination for 
the demands today would have on her. Though he had owned up to 
forgetting her appointment yesterday, there had been no mention 
in the note regarding his attendance at the final one today. 

If she had ever entertained any thought that sex might change the 
parts of him that drove her crazy, she had the beginnings of 
proof to refute that idea. He was who he was. And at least, for 
right now, there was some comfort in that. 

She added some milk to her coffee and headed for the bathroom. 
She couldn't afford to be late this morning.

*********

Scully dropped her computer bag onto her desk and sneezed as a 
puff of dust lifted into the air. The battle the two of them had 
over housekeeping was ongoing. As often as she called them down 
to take care of the dirt, he chased them away convinced they were 
stealing secrets or planting bugs. She set her jacket on her 
chair and went in search of a dust cloth. 

She surveyed her handiwork. There wasn't much she could do about 
the floor, but at least she could move papers on her desk without 
causing a small dust storm. She hadn't been back in the office 
since the start of the Dusett case, and her inbox confirmed it. 

She turned her computer on and pulled out the tape and lab 
reports. She still had her notes to write up for the autopsy she 
did on the last body. She set the folder with Kristen's autopsy 
reports on Mulder's desk. It was only a copy. Even if the body 
disappeared, and she fully expected it to at some point, she had 
the hard data. Pictures too, all copied and uploaded courtesy of 
the Gunmen. Extra insurance Mulder always called it. 

Her cell phone rang and she scrambled to get it out of her bag. 
She took a deep breath before thumbing on the talk button; only 
one person would be calling her on her cell at this hour of the 
morning.

"Scully."

"Hey, it's me."

"Morning, Mulder."

"I'm running a little late."

"Okay." 

"I just didn't want you to worry -- you know."

"You're running late. Got it."

"Scully --"

"...."

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Sorry for running out or sorry for the whole 
night? She didn't have the emotional energy for this right now. 

"I have to make a couple of stops and I'll be in."

"Fine." 

"Scully?"

"Yes," she snapped. 

"Nothing. I'll see you soon."

She ended the call and threw the phone in her bag. 

**********

Mulder sighed as he disconnected the call. He knew sneaking out 
early this morning wasn't the best way to handle things, but 
Scully's moods were confusing him. One minute she was clinging to 
him, emotionally distraught, and the next -- hell, what happened 
next had him growing hard again just remembering. 

He wasn't stupid enough to think that she had been a reluctant 
participant; the speed with which she divested him of his pants, 
and her active involvement in the act itself was proof of her own 
desire. He just couldn't' figure out why now, what the it all 
meant. 

It felt like he had taken advantage of her - hell, maybe they had 
taken advantage of each other. He wasn't exactly thinking all 
that clearly either. They could not have any kind of meaningful 
relationship if sex became something they used to avoid talking. 
And he was afraid that last night was just that -- avoidance. She 
was emotionally raw and he was -- he wanted to bind her to him. 
He wanted that baby in order to have some permanent tie to her. 

She hadn't answered his question and he desperately needed to 
know what was going on in her head. 

They needed to talk. 

***********

Chapter 24b

Mulder pulled up outside of Kristen's residence. The police tape 
was still up but there wasn't a patrol car in sight. Not 
surprising. They didn't see it as anything but one more homicide 
with a deficit of clues. One more that would eventually get moved 
to the back as it made its way to the cold case files. He got out 
of his car, ducked under the tape and walked confidently up to 
the front door. If any of the neighbors were watching he didn't 
want to arouse any suspicions. He needed to have one more look 
around without the local PD breathing down his neck. He was 
convinced he missed something that would give him a clue 
regarding Hannah. 

The place smelled stale, overlaid with a tinge of something that 
could only be blood. The presence of fingerprint dust confirmed 
that a restoration company hadn't been called yet, which was a 
good thing. 

He donned a pair of latex gloves, thinking with a smirk how much 
that would please Scully. In the next breath he remember how 
pissed she actually was with him right now. She had been clipped 
and reserved during the phone call. He knew he might be asking 
for trouble when he left very early this morning, but he couldn't 
deal with it all. Shit, he hadn't meant to sleep with her under 
those circumstances.

He carefully made his way into the living room. Closing his eyes 
he brought to mind the room, as it was the night he sat here with 
Kristen. He could see the pictures lined up along the sideboard 
and tables, the book she had pulled out to show him. All lies, 
all meant to -- to what? Why would they dangle a little girl -- 
Samantha's little girl -- before him? What was the motivation 
this time?

There was nothing here. He got down on the floor and checked 
under the couches and the chair to make sure. Nothing. He turned 
to make his way upstairs, his footsteps echoing where they 
touched the wooden floors. 

He paused at the top of the stairs. When he had looked around up 
here the first time it had busy, between the coroner, the 
paramedics, and the local police he had felt constrained. 

Now he shut his eyes and allowed the atmosphere to permeate him. 
His memory supplied the scene:  emergency bag on the floor by the 
end of the bed, the paramedics off to one side, unable to do 
anything now that the coroner had been called in; Mills, pacing 
in the hall, occasionally coming through the open door to check 
on things; leaning over Kristen as Charlie pointed out the marks 
on the back of her neck, the tang of fresh blood pungent. 

He opened his eyes and shook the scene off. He stepped into the 
room and surveyed it. Someone had taken the sheets, probably 
Forensics, and the tell tale marks of fingerprint dust meant this 
room hadn't been touched either. He knelt down and let his 
fingers run over the carpet by the head of the bed, cursing 
himself for forgetting to bring in a flashlight. 

When he stood up and moved the side table out of the way, intent 
on moving the bed to see under it more clearly, a small white 
slip of paper fluttered to the floor. He grabbed it carefully by 
the edges. It was a photograph. Kristen and a younger Hannah 
smiled back. They were perched in front of a white building, the 
name not visible. He wondered who was taking the photograph. He 
pulled out a clear baggie and dropped the picture in; he might 
get lucky and there would be a print Danny could life off it for 
him. 

Another quick look through convinced him he had found all he was 
going to. He was grateful for this one small thing considering 
the local PD was known for their thoroughness at a crime scene; 
he just got lucky.

************