Visitation by Jori
Website: http://www.netroenterprises.com/stories/hpvisitation.html
Rating: MSR, NC-17
Summary: Oh, what else. Everybody else did one so I had to. Post episode
for all things. In my version of the story, they do.
Comments: Well, what can I say? :-) Very well-done RST fic, loved it,
loved the characterizations. I thought everything that was done was absolutely
fabulous!
'Visitation' by Jori (post-ep/NC-17)Title:
Visitation 1/1
Author: Jori Remington
E-mail: damienma@bellsouth.net
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Oh, what else. Everybody else did one so I had to. Post
episode for all things. In my version of the story, they do.
Category: SR
Keywords: MSR post-episode
Spoilers: all things
Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to CC, FOX and 1013
Archive: Yes. Wherever. Spookys or anybody else, if you need the link
it is at: http://www.netroenterprises.com/stories/hpvisitation.html
Author's Notes: Well, it certainly isn't the best or most original
post-ep story out there and it most certainly doesn't say anything
that the 105 before it didn't already say, but a dear friend had a
really bad day so I said I'd do something for her. I've been away from
writing X-Files fan fiction for a while, so my Mulder is painfully
rusty. Forgive us. Thanks, MoJo, for reading and putting up with me
coming out of a certain basement for a day or two. You are the only
reason I'm posting this fluff. This is also a Font Fic, and the font
'Visitation' can be found at www.fontfreak.com. And now these notes
are longer than the story and probably far more entertaining.
***************
The noise of the running water and
of the tea cups clinking together
must have disturbed her sleep. I look over my shoulder to see Scully
standing there, somewhere halfway in and out of the kitchen, just
watching me with tired eyes. She gently wipes an eye with the back of
her hand and blinks, trying to wake up.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to
wake you," I say, watching her lean
against the doorframe before I turn around and resume washing the
dishes.
"That's okay. I didn't mean to
fall asleep while you were talking. The
last few days have been exhausting and I apologize," she explains. It
isn't like she hasn't fallen asleep on my shoulder before. Usually
while I'm talking. Sometimes while I'm driving. A lot of times while
we are flying.
"Don't worry about it. Are you
going to head home now?" I ask while
rinsing off a cup. She doesn't answer and for just a second I assume
she's already gone.
"No, I'm not," she answers,
her voice soft and sleepy. I can't move my
hand from under the water even though it is far too hot to let it
remain there. But I just can't move. She hasn't stayed here overnight
since . . . my mother. And then neither of us slept, but not in a good
way. No, it was a horrible night that I spent angrily pacing the floor
while she watched me from the couch. Scully had only been asleep for
about ten minutes when Skinner banged on the door.
Over the running water, I hear her
sigh. So slight and nearly
imperceptible but it is enough to shake me back to the present and
pull my hand out of the water.
"Okay. I'll sleep on the couch
and you can have the bed," I say,
expecting her to say good night before she turns around and walks off
toward my bedroom. I don't hear anything. She's still there. "Or if
you prefer the couch, you can have it. I'm not attached to it
anymore."
"No."
The cup in my hand tumbles down and
hits the bottom of the sink, but
it doesn't shatter. No, nothing is going to shatter tonight but a wall
we've put up that is so thick and strong, I nearly thought it was
impenetrable. Instead of shattering, I think some things are going to
come together. Finally. I turn off the water, pull the drain plug out
of the sink and rest my hands on the edge of the counter, not caring
that they are dripping everywhere.
"No?" I ask, looking over my shoulder again.
"No," she says again, but she's nodding her head 'yes.'
No, she's not going home. No, we aren't
sleeping in separate rooms.
No, just this one time, means yes to so many things. She wets her lips
with the tip of her tongue before she turns and walks away. My heart
is beating so loudly that I can't even hear the water as it swirls
away down the drain. I can only watch it go. Can only fathom all the
little things that brought us right to this moment and now that we are
on the verge of something else, would I have changed any of them?
I sigh as I realize that there is
only one thing I would have changed.
And in doing so, it would have changed everything else and right at
this moment, and I don't know whether I could live without Scully. But
I have learned to live without Samantha. Have learned to accept all
things that led up to what happened to her life. But in the end, can I
use those things to find happiness for myself?
Yes, for something good coming from
all this would be the final
justice for what happened to her.
*************
She sits on the edge of my bed, looking
out the window at the brick
wall view. "I wasn't completely honest. There are a few things I
wouldn't have minded missing along the way."
I say nothing but find myself nodding
'yes' even though she's not
looking at me.
"There isn't a single one of
us who doesn't wish we could have skipped
all the despair along the path that brings us to where we are. No
matter how good the end of the journey is, it is created and formed
because of the anguish and the joy. It . . . just is," I say, moving
tentatively towards my own bed. She doesn't move at all, just watches
the tender spring leaves blow on the trees outside.
"Yet, I can't imagine it being
any other way," she says, quickly
casting a glance over her shoulder at me. "All the roads led me right
to here . . . not right *here* necessarily, but they have all led up
to there being no other choice."
"There are always choices." I sit on the end of the bed and watch her.
She could be gone. Scully said this . . . this old lover of hers would
take her back if that was the life she wanted. But instead, she's here
with more choices facing her. Every single second presents us with
another choice and whether we decide to go one way or another changes
the next choice we have. She chose the FBI and in a roundabout way,
ended up choosing me. I chose to open the X-Files and in a way, chose
no other path for either of us.
"Yes, there are always choices
and I've made mine," she says, looking
down at the floor instead of staring out the window. Moon shadows
dance across each leaf, and they all shimmer as they sway though the
steady breeze. The wind always blows between the buildings, rattling
those trees. Her face is marked by the horizontal shadows created by
the blinds and I can't see her eyes right now, for they are trapped in
one dark band. "But to think, that could have been my life. A life
without . . . you."
"It's too late for that now."
I reach out for her, my hand brushing
across the sleeve of her jacket.
She looks up and smiles slightly at my touch but it doesn't last long
on her face. "It's been too late longer than today."
"Yes, it has," I answer,
tugging at the fabric between my fingers. She
lets it slide off of her shoulders and folds it neatly at the end of
the bed. I crawl across the mattress and slide down around her, so she
is tucked in between my legs and wrapped in my arms. With a soft sigh,
she leans back against my chest and all of a sudden it doesn't matter
how in the hell we got here. It doesn't even matter what happens next.
Just admitting this is where we belong is a tremendous step.
Instead of just letting it end there,
I feel her hands come up off her
lap and rest on top of mine, so warm and so soft. I know she's tired
and so am I after all that traveling for nothing. I could fall asleep
with her in my arms just like this.
"C'mere," I say, pulling
her up onto the bed until I end up on my side
and she's next to me, facing me with her hand on my cheek. Her mouth
is so close to mine and I want so much to kiss her. I wanted to
before, but would prefer her to be awake and willing. Like right now.
But I catch a slight tremble in her
lower lip and chin -- a quiver so
slight if I hadn't been looking at that very instant I would have
missed it -- and I pull back further to look at her. She catches her
lip in between her teeth for just a second, trying to stop it from
happening again. "Tell me what you want," I whisper. "Tell
me what you
need."
"I need this," she says,
her hand slipping from my cheek until her
fingertips brush across my lips. "I need you."
"And tomorrow?" I ask, wondering
what path this will send us down. It
could be the path that pulls us apart. I'm not sure I want it if that
is what's going to happen.
"Tomorrow . . ." she starts
to say as I kiss her fingertips. Her eyes
shut at the sensation and she opens her mouth to say more but it takes
a while. "Tomorrow we take the path we need to and hope it brings us
here again."
Scully moves in a little closer and
our lips meet for only a few
seconds. It is brief but it sends fingers of heat spreading through my
body. Then she snuggles up against my chest, and I can feel each and
every breath she takes become slower and more modulated. She's falling
asleep again.
*************
I feel her move away from my body
and it wakes me up immediately. "Are
you going home?" I ask, trying to see what time it is. I don't want
her to go, but it is midnight already. She's sitting on the edge of
the bed, watching out the window again.
"No. I'm just uncomfortable sleeping
in this," she says, tugging at
the bottom of her sweater. I put my head back down on my pillow and
try to keep my eyes open.
"You could take it off,"
I mumble, expecting to be ignored. She's
overlooked most every comment I've made with a sexual undertone in the
past seven years. Why would she start listening now?
"I could," she says, standing
up and peeling it off of her body. She
is silhouetted against the windows and right now there's no way my
eyes are going to go shut. I watch as she lets it drop on top of her
jacket. Then I listen to the zipper slide down on the side of her
skirt. She sheds that and her hosiery quickly, placing them all neatly
with her jacket.
"Would you like something to
wear?" I ask, wondering what is wrong
with me that I asked her that. Then I realize that I respect every
fiber of her being and she should know that I want her to be
comfortable.
"It is a little cold in here,"
she says, reaching out to turn off the
fan. I usually have it running for the noise. I was so used to
sleeping next to the bubbling fish tank that when I finally did move
back into my bed, it seemed so silent in here.
"Here . . . it's all nice and
warm," I say, pulling my shirt over my
head and tossing it to her. She holds it a bit before pulling it on.
"Do you always sleep with all
your clothes on?" she asks and I realize
that I even still have my shoes on. I quickly take them off and cast
them aside.
"Yeah, just in case I have to
run off to England in the middle of the
night," I say as I try to remember where I threw my pajama bottoms.
She lets out a soft, nearly indiscernible laugh as I stand up and
start looking around for something more comfortable to wear to bed.
Shit. Everything is packed in the bags I left out in the hall or in
the laundry. "Just because you only ever see me sleeping in my clothes
doesn't mean I don't actually own any pajamas. But it looks like I get
to sleep in this, considering I can't find . . ."
I stop talking as I watch her crawl
over the bed on her knees and
reach for me, pulling me by my arm back to her. Her hands go to the
button on the waistband of my jeans, slipping it through the
buttonhole. Then she pops the button-fly open quickly and easily and
she's lucky I'm so tired or at this point she'd be greeted with
something far more nefarious than just my boxer shorts as she slides
my jeans down over my hips.
"You can sleep in this. I don't
mind," she says as she sits back on
her heels. She smiles a little before she looks down -- not at me --
but just down. "It just won't ever feel like the first time with you."
"Is that good or bad, I mean in your experience? Personally, I've had
some pretty bad first times in my life. And a few fairly good ones.
It's just I've never known someone like I know you," I say, and I pull
her up so we are hugging, her head nestled against my chest. "It's a
big step, but I don't think it is the defining step in our
relationship. Maybe that isn't right . . . or maybe that is the way it
should be."
"Mulder, if we don't stop talking
about it and stalling for time,
there will never be a first time," she says and then I realize I am
stalling. We're stalling.
"I went away for two days, your
life changes, you have a visitation by
God and you end up in my bed. I think that is reason enough to stall
for just a bit. Why now, Scully?" I say, my hands going up to her
hair, running through it and tussling it a bit.
"I already told you. This is
where I belong -- where we belong," she
says, pulling free from me. Her arms wrap around my neck and she draws
me down for a kiss. Her mouth opens under mine for the first time ever
and the moment our tongues touch sends a spark through my body that
even exhaustion can't defeat.
She backs up on the bed, bringing
me with her, until we are both on
our knees, kissing and caressing each other. My hands slide up under
her shirt . . . my shirt . . . and unfasten her bra so I can feel
more. Her nipples harden as I brush my thumbs across them and I feel
her moan against my mouth before she breaks our kiss.
"I want to stay here forever
. . . then there will be no paths and
nothing can change," she whispers to me in the darkness.
"Eight a.m. annual resource management
meeting . . . Skinner . . .
gotta go . . ." I mumble, feeling her fingertips brush across my chest
mimicking on me what I'm doing to her. "He'd notice . . . if we both
called in and missed it. Oh . . . yeah."
My hands slip out from under her shirt
and hang limply at my sides as
she dips her head down, her tongue brushing across my nipples. She
takes one in between her lips, swirling her tongue around it and a
slow, heavy burn crosses my body and deposits itself in my groin,
lingering there and growing even heavier with every flick of her
tongue.
Her fingers move hesitantly down my
stomach, coming to rest on the
waistband of my boxer shorts. I feel her play with the fabric, not
sure of her next move. Her hand then traces down the front of the
cotton material and she makes a humming sound against my chest. I
would make a sound, but I can't breath well enough for that. Actually,
the only sound I can make is one of me trying to suck in air as her
hand snakes into my boxers and strokes up my erection.
I fight the urge my hips have to buck
up against her hand, but I fail.
She moves her mouth away from my chest and together, we get my boxers
as far down as my knees and I stumble around on the mattress trying to
shed them the rest of the way.
She wraps her fist around my cock
and pumps it, slowly at first but
picking up the pace when I ask -- rather, beg -- her to. Her thumb
brushes across the tip, capturing the tiny drop of fluid there and
spreading it around, making the whole operation smoother.
There are no other noises in the room
except the sound of us breathing
-- raspy, strained breaths -- and the sound of wet flesh against wet
flesh, sliding up and down.
"I want to touch you. I want
to feel you move for me. And I'd gladly
give up the chance to change every road not taken and every road
discovered tomorrow for right now," I whisper, my hands moving her
shirt up until I can see the lacy black panties she has on. I pull
them down a little, just enough to slip my fingers between her thighs
and discover how warm and wet she is.
She settles down on my hand as my
fingers find her clit and we both
continue touching each other with a perfectly matching rhythm. Our
combined efforts make the mattress springs squeak and I smile because
now I know two more things I didn't know just a few minutes ago. I
know the sounds and the scents of the two of us together.
Our eyes never separate as we do this,
but instead we seem to be
impossibly focused on the other. It is getter harder and harder the
closer I get to the edge she bringing me to and this isn't how I want
this to happen. I want to be inside her, to feel her warmth wrapped
around me. I don't just want to come in her hand, making a mess
everywhere.
Scully must feel the same way because
she moves back from me,
releasing my cock from her grasp as she catches her breath. She toes
her panties off the rest of the way, and her shirt drops down,
covering her up completely.
I lean back on my heels, aching for
her touch again. Any touch would
do. I reach for her, pulling her to me and a low, raspy moan escapes
my throat as she straddles my hips, her wet sex brushes across me. Now
I know I can't take much more as I wrap my hands around her waist for
support.
"You're sure?" I ask before
this finally happens. I don't want to be a
road that should have never been taken or one that leads to a tangled
path of regret.
"Very," she says, edging
in closer and allowing me to sink into her
body. Her inner muscles tighten around me and if she were to move, it
would be over in an instant. I won't lie. It's been a while and the
sensations are overwhelming.
Both of us just stare at each other
for a few seconds, our expressions
registering pure pleasure mixed with a healthy dose of surprise. Sure,
this might have always been the only place our roads could lead to,
but still, in the end, being here is so unexpected.
Then she moves, using her hands on
my shoulders for leverage. She
moves and I move and then I think I'm going to die. I fight to pull
all my synapses in my brain back together and remember that I need to
touch her, so this is good for her, too. I slip a hand between us and
hear her utter a throaty moaning sound as I make contact with her clit
again.
The bed rocks under us as we move
against each other, trying to draw
this out yet too curious to make it last for long. Far too curious to
drag this out to unreasonable lengths that I couldn't possibly attain
anyway.
I feel like telling her a million
more things but she probably isn't
listening to me at this point anyway. Kind of like it's a slide show
only so much better. She easily slides up and down my length, stopping
only long enough on the upstroke to kiss me every once in a while.
Scully stops moving and I feel her
body begin to quake around me and
her eyes crinkle up at the corners and I think I'm more in love with
her right now than I've ever been before. A gasp. A pant. A sigh. I
even love the noises she makes.
She nudges my hand away and drops
kisses across my face before she
starts moving again. My hands settle low on her hips, helping her move
until she hits the right pace and I know it won't last too long. Not
this time. It just can't. We're both too tired and this has been so
long in the making that neither of us can force it to last a second
more.
I slam up into her body one last time
and everything explodes around
me. Earth and sky and what might have been no longer matter as I
spiral past where we are right now. I fight to catch my breath and
eventually I have to tumble back to the here and now, which is good.
This is the only place I want to be.
Scully wraps her arms around me tighter,
holding me as close as
possible and I somehow maneuver us into a more comfortable position. A
horizontal one. I'm still inside of her body, her one leg is still
wrapped around my waist and I know I can't stay awake much longer. Too
much has happened today. She reaches around for the comforter and
pulls it over both of us and we got lost in the warmth of it and each
other.
************
Scully moves in my arms and it pulls
me out of the deep heavenly blue
dream state I was floating in and sinks me directly into a better
state. Scully was sleeping in my arms and I am . . . naked. She's not,
but I'm pretty sure what I think happened before I fell asleep really
did happen. No, I'm more than sure. I'm positive.
She tries to slip out of my arms unnoticed
but I don't let her get
away with it. "You going?" I ask, pulling her as close to me as
I can
yet remain two separate entities. My hands slip up under her shirt to
feel her warmth and she is so wonderfully warm.
"I was just going to get dressed.
I wanted to stop by the hospital
before going in to work. If I'm a little late, will you cover for me?"
she asks a question that doesn't even need to be asked. It's the other
part of her plan that troubles me.
"Why are you going there?"
I ask, feeling her tense up in my arms just
a little. She thinks I'm going to become incredibly protective and
possessive of her now. I'm not. Not anymore than I already am. "Let me
rephrase that. Did I do something wrong that makes you want to go . .
.. back to him?"
Night still has its hold on this room,
yet in the darkness, I feel her
move toward me and place kisses across my face until she reaches my
mouth. "No. Never. I just wanted to make sure he understood that this
is my life. You are my life . . . or an exceptionally large part of
it. Nothing is going to change that."
"You really wanted to spend your
life with him?" I ask, and she sinks
into my arms with a sigh.
"Once, a long time ago . . .
forever ago. And there are days where I
still question 'what if' but I have a feeling that had I decided to
spend my life with him, somehow, you and I . . . still."
"Yeah, I know," I mumble.
Our mouths meet for one final deep kiss
before she rolls out of my arms and slips off the bed, gathering up
few pieces of her clothes that have fallen on the floor. I watch her
walk to the bathroom and I can barely keep my eyes open.
A million roads we *could* have traveled,
visited by a few billion
factors along the way, yet there is no way this couldn't have been.
This lifetime or any lifetime.
This is the only way.
The End
************
Feedback is always nice and goes with
either fish or red meat.
damienma@bellsouth.net -- Just don't
write to tell me they didn't do
it because I don't care either way. A friend wanted smut, so I gave
her smut.
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http://netroenterprises.com/stories/
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