ABSALOM VII: The Threefold Cord - Part 2
by - Joyce
December 1998
WARNING: This part contains a sexual encounter between consenting adults. Proceed at own risk.
"And though a man might prevail against one who is alone; two will withstand him. A threefold cord is not quickly broken." (Ecclesiastes 3:16)
**********
Same day, X-Files Office
Mulder leaned back in his chair and contemplated an organized, even tidy, X-Files office. After four days of work, it was a ghost of its former glory of passionate chaos; his pocket universe for the absurdities of nature and human nature. Only Scully would truly appreciate this gesture for what it was - flipping an irreverent finger at the bureaucracy that had scorned him and now stood poised to absorb him. If the X-Files were no longer his, then he would lay them in the coffin all neat and prim and looking like a dressed-up corpse.
Let his new masters assume he was resigned to the closure. Under the cover of dumping the trash and removing his personal effects, he had been able to sneak home nearly two dozen files. All the important files detailing the activities of the Consortium were now safely away from shredders running amok or other 'accidents.'
The past week had been hell. He missed Scully, but at the same time he was relieved not to be in close quarters with her. Waking up on Mrs. Scully's couch with Scully wrapped in his arms was a confusing mix of sensual delight and near panic. Scully had been calm and matter-of-fact, but he had felt her flinch when she saw her mother staring at them from the kitchen doorway. As soon as he could, he had fled the scene.
Since then, he had spoken to Scully daily, but did not respond to her invitations to come over. From the reserved tone in her voice, Mulder suspected that the invitations were at her mother's urging. He and Scully had danced too close to the flames that night. They needed time and distance to think and to decide whether to step forward into the fire or retreat back behind their walls.
The fire beckoned him with a siren's song. For every sound, reasoned argument his intellect mustered against the folly of making love with Scully, his heart responded with 'I love her' and his soul hungered for the completion she offered. Mulder didn't even need to ask how his body felt about the matter. It was a three to one vote, but still he hesitated, afraid that what he needed was not what was best for her.
Neither of them had good track records with relationships, much less emotional intimacy. To attempt to build an intimate relationship with Scully right now had to be the height of folly. He had just sold his soul to the devil and honesty was certain to be one of the first casualties of this deal. They were fools to even consider the idea, yet when had there ever been a good time for them.
Maybe, when her strict rationalism had time to assert itself over her physical desire, she would realize that becoming lovers was a disaster waiting to happen. He wished he could be the one to step back, but he couldn't. The flames held him paralyzed. Either she joined him or else he would burn alone. It was her decision and he hoped she knew what she was doing when she made it.
The strident ring of the phone startled him back to the present.
"Mulder."
"Hey, you keeping out of trouble?"
Scully's voice was like a dash of cold water chasing his dark thoughts back into the shadows. Hearing her voice was like bathing in fire and ice - ice to cool his fever-bright mind and fire to enflame his raw physical desire.
"Always."
He chuckled at her disbelieving silence. He could hear her eyebrow cocking. She knew him too well.
"I've been up to my neck in paperwork, but I sent the last form upstairs an hour ago, so the opportunities for misbehaving have just opened up. You want to come over and help me misbehave?" he teased in a dark, mischievous tone.
"No, but if you come pick me up at my mother's and take me home, I'll be willing to think about what mischief we could get into," she teased, lowering her voice until it was a husky silken promise.
Mulder felt the room heat up and saw the flames dance around him. She was not going to be sensible and back away. Now it was up to him and he had no idea which way to jump - head or heart.
"Be there in two hours," Mulder answered shakily. He could hear a slight chuckle as Scully scored one for her side. He had a feeling this was either going to be the longest night of his life or one of the most memorable.
"See you," Scully said as she hung up. Mulder had a feeling that she was about to say more, but stopped. He was just as glad. They had to talk and, when they did, he wanted to be sitting across from her looking right into her eyes. Flippancy and sexual innuendoes were excellent defenses, but cold comfort on lonely nights. They had to know. They had to look into each other's eyes and know that, whether they moved forward or back, it was what the other one really wanted.
**************
As he pulled out of her mother's driveway, Mulder glanced over at Scully. She looked rested. Once they were out of sight of the house, she seemed to relax with a soft sigh.
"A little too much rest and relaxation?" he asked teasingly. Mrs. Scully had been polite, but he sensed that she had not been enthusiastic about her daughter's decision to return to her own apartment.
"I'd forgotten how claustrophobic I got living at home," Scully admitted with a smile.
"She nearly lost you. At least in her home, she felt you were safe," Mulder commented in a noncommittal tone. He had promised her no guilt, but old habits were hard to break. Considering the reason Scully nearly died, he would not have been terribly surprised to be told by her mother not to darken her doorway ever again.
"I chose this life, Mulder," she retorted testily. "I knew the risks."
So much for hoping he could delude her that he wasn't feeling guilty, Mulder thought ruefully. Scully's tone indicated that this was an old argument she was still fighting with her family. Recent events probably had not helped ease their concerns.
"Well, I really doubt if you included being shot in place of your partner by agents of a global human-alien conspiracy in your risk analysis," Mulder quipped with a sad smile.
"Scully laughed. "No, I'll admit that I overlooked that particular possibility."
Mulder chuckled and smiled at her repartee, unaware that he suddenly looked five years younger as the stress lines around his eyes disappeared.
"I'd forgotten," Scully breathed softly.
"What?" he asked, puzzled by the sadness in her voice. He was trying to drive and look at her at the same time and doing neither very well. With a shake of his head, he turned his attention back to his driving. If he managed not to wrap the car around a tree, there would be plenty of time to talk once he got Scully safely home. She was being enigmatic again, that must mean she was feeling better.
"How young you look when you smile like that," she confessed while staring out the passenger side window.
"It's been that long?" he asked even as he tried to remember when he had last laughed for joy or smiled for no reason other than that he was happy. Why should it be so hard to remember such a simple act, he wondered?
"Mmmm..." she muttered as she snuggled deeper into her coat.
Even with the heater going full blast, March was proving that it had one last blast of winter left up its sleeve. Mulder figured that they would be lucky to avoid an ice storm. Then again, an ice storm might be very useful.
"Just relax," he suggested. "I promise not to run into anything."
A heavy sigh was his only response, but if he listened hard he could hear her breathing gradually slow. She might not be relaxed enough to actually fall asleep, but the rest would do her good. Plus, it would deflect any more serious talk until they were safe and sound in her living room.
**************
Scully's Apartment - later that night
"I'm OK, Mulder, really," Scully assured him, again, with an indulgent smile.
Mulder lowered his eyes to the steaming cup of tea he clutched in his hands. He was trying not to shake from the cold that seemed to have settled into the marrow of his bones as much from a delayed reaction to the accident. Did his need to touch her, to reassure himself that she was indeed fine, show so much in his eyes, he wondered?
"Mulder, it wasn't your fault. The police told me that it was a miracle you managed to control the skid the way you did, on black ice no less."
Scully continued to batter away at his attempt to withdraw in self-recrimination. He wanted to believe her, but he kept feeling the heavy thump as the tires blew; the helpless feeling as the car spun out of control towards the concrete construction barrier. He didn't dare tell her that he spun the car around, not in an effort to control the skid, but in an instinctive attempt to turn his side of the car into the barrier rather than hers.
It was sheer, dumb luck that his maneuver aborted the skid so that he could steer the car into the median instead of the barrier. He considered a broken axle a small price to pay for safety.
Once assured that Scully was startled and shaken, but otherwise unhurt, Mulder had bolted from the car. Sinking up to his ankles in cold mud, he called in the accident and waited for the police to arrive. Ignoring her pleas to get back in the car, he stood in the icy rain in self-imposed penance. It took Scully threatening to join him to bring him back inside, dripping ice and remorse as the car's heater battled to keep them warm.
"Enough!" Scully snapped, recalling him from his bleak memories of the accident, back into the warmth of her living room.
He winced, but brought his eyes back up to look at her.
"I'm not that fragile."
Mulder tried to look convinced. With a fond, exasperated shake of her head, Scully stood up and walked around behind him. Before he had time to wonder what she was up to, he felt her hands slide under his sweater and begin to knead his shoulders. Still warm from holding her mug, they eased the cold shudders he had been fighting for the last two hours.
Part of him wanted to pull away, to deny himself her comforting, but her hands held him captive as they wove a spell that banished fear and guilt and left only pleasure. With a groan torn from somewhere deep inside his soul, he closed his eyes and relaxed into her hands, surrendering his body to her will. He was tired of fighting between what he wanted and what he thought he should do.
Lost and floating in a hazy fog of pure relaxation, he felt her hands stop and slide free. He bit his lip to keep from groaning a protest. Then he felt her hands cup his face and knew that the final bridge lay before them. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to see Scully leaning over him, staring at him with a mix of intensity and hesitation. The tension between them hummed like a live wire.
If he was going to run, now was the time. His mind gave one final shot at convincing him that Scully would be better off if he stepped back. As he balanced on the cusp of decision, she swept in and scattered his rational demons.
"Tell me you don't want this and it will be a chaste goodnight kiss between good friends," she whispered in a husky voice that would have aroused a dead man.
Mulder stared into her eyes, his profiler's mind trying to assess her offer. Her eyes betrayed her. She wanted this, probably as much as he did. It was costing her dearly to break past her emotional barriers to make the first move. He sensed that if he refused, he might never lure her out again. The price of his cowardice would be enormous to her and to himself.
Rather than answer her with paltry words, he reached out and pulled her into his lap. Before she could react, he kissed her, passionately and fiercely with all the pent-up longing of a lonely man. Let there be no doubt in her mind that he wanted her with his heart, soul and body. His mind could either join in or sulk alone; he was tired of listening to it.
After a brief gasp of surprise, muffled by his lips, she returned his kiss with enthusiasm and a passion equal to his own. Mulder felt the fire sweep over them and happily gave himself to the flames.
A need to breathe finally broke them apart. As he took in several deep breaths, Mulder realized that his stamina definitely needed work. Yoga was looking very good right now.
Scully sat up with a satisfied look in her eyes and a fiery flush to her cheeks. As she shifted position, Mulder felt his groin tighten. A wicked smile lit up her eyes as she rubbed against him. Mulder regretted not spending the last week working out. Scully had an unfair advantage and he suspected she was going to make full use of her week of rest.
"Doubts?" she asked as she leaned in for another kiss.
"Dozens, but I'm tired of listening to them," he admitted as he grabbed for one last deep breath.
Her tongue swept over his lips seeking a way in. With a smile, he complied and let her explore his mouth, tasting him. When they finally pulled apart, he knew he was as flushed as she had been earlier.
Mulder decided to act while he could still think. If this kiss was any indication, control was going to be a much-contested prize in their love-making. Scully was revealing an aggressive side that was incredibly arousing. This was a new side to his reserved partner, yet he didn't sense that she was into domination games like Phoebe. It was rather pleasant to be seduced by someone he trusted with his life. For the first time, he sensed the joy of relaxing into total pleasure.
He arched into her wandering hands with a sly grin, prompting a cocked eyebrow from her. Replying with a wicked grin of her own, she rolled up his sweater to allow her hands easier access to his bare stomach and chest. Mulder shuddered as her questing hands grazed over his nipples.
Reaching down, he slipped his hands under Scully's sweater and began to mirror the actions of her hands. She hesitated only a moment before continuing with her slow languid seduction of his body. He memorized those spots where his questing hands elicited soft groans. Forgotten was the cold and the guilt which had smothered him earlier. Her hands bathed him in fire that coiled and burned in his groin. Rational thought was fleeing. All that was left was his passion and a tension wound so tightly that he felt as if he might explode if it kept building.
He wanted to tell her so many things, but her hands had robbed him of coherent speech, so he spoke in the language of his body; writhing under her touch, groaning as she stroked him through his jeans. He gave her his body as an instrument and she played him like a master. With precise care, she stripped him out of sweater and jeans, leaving him only his jockey briefs, which were anything but modest with his arousal straining against the cotton barrier between them.
Cool air tingled on his overheated skin, raising goose-bumps on his exposed flesh. She stood up and a sudden rush of cool air hit his lap. He reached for her, but she stepped back, just out of reach and stood there looking at him. Mulder felt himself flushing under her scrutiny. There might have been a time when he would have had no qualms about how his body would appear to a lover, but now he wore the price of his quest on his body. He hoped for some reassuring smile or words, but Scully simply stood there running her eyes along his body, allowing neither words or expression to betray her thoughts.
"The bodywork may be a bit battered, but the engine still runs hot," he quipped in a desperate need to break the silence. Her mute appraisal was unnerving him.
To his surprise, he saw that she was trying not to cry. He had prompted many reactions from women, but tears were a new one.
"Scully?" he started.
"I nearly lost you," she muttered. The sad, fierce look in her eyes disconcerted him. He stood up and gathered her into his arms, hugging her close.
"I'm here, Scully," he assured her. "Battered a bit, but still functional," he added lightly, caressing her back in slow circles until she melted into him.
"Does it bother you? That I'm scarred?" he asked softly, offering her a way to talk about what prompted her hesitation.
She pulled back and looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise, banishing the tears. Then she smiled sadly and raised a hand to lightly trace the raw scar around his throat. Mulder twitched at the feel of her hands on the tender skin, but did not pull away. It would be weeks before the redness faded into a pale reminder of his brush with death.
Her hands roved from scar to scar, gently wooing warmth back into the empty places in his soul. It would be too easy to simply surrender to the magic of her hands, to give her total control over him, but he felt her uneasiness. Reluctantly he forced his mind apart from the pleasure drowning his senses to consider the problem.
"It's not me, is it?" he whispered gruffly into her hair, closing his arms around her when she started to pull away. The soft wool of her sweater tickled his bare chest, sending tiny electrical charges across his skin.
Mulder laid his palm against the bandage under her sweater. With the other hand, he tilted up her head so that he could look into her eyes. She looked wary, but held her gaze steady. Very slowly he leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips, then dropped to his knees and gently let his head fall to rest against her chest. He knelt there, asking her to trust him, to let him in, while he held his breath. He offered her the only thing he had left to give - control.
After a moment she pulled back slightly, still letting his arms encircle her waist. Waiting silently, unmoving was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but he was determined to allow her to make her own decisions. He felt the wool rub against his face and arms as she slowly pulled up the sweater and let it fall to one side.
His heart pounded, but he refrained from looking at her. Some part of him sensed that this was a journey Scully had to make on her own. There would be other times to watch her undress. To his surprise, trying to visualize what she was doing, by touch or the hints provided by her movements, was immensely arousing. His tongue flicked in and out trying to moisten lips suddenly parched. He felt like a small boy waiting at the top of the stairs for his parents to say it was time to rush down and open his birthday presents. He was all a tiptoe with anticipation.
"Look at me, Mulder. I wanted to be beautiful for you," she said sadly.
Slowly Mulder raised his eyes and looked at the woman who encompassed his partner, his friend and his lover in one compact body. Her smooth body would now wear two scars to remind her of the cost of knowing him.
"You are beautiful, in all the ways that count," Mulder assured her as he let his hands begin to rove across her ass and he fought to control his breathing. "You told me not to feel guilty about what happened. I won't, but you have to promise never to be ashamed of your body with me."
"That's not fair," Scully retorted shakily, her breathing beginning to become ragged. Mulder sensed that her resistance was crumbling, which was good because his control wasn't going to last much longer. Either they moved forward or he was liable to explode.
"Where did you ever get the idea that I play fair?" Mulder asked with a wicked grin before he bestowed a brief kiss on the bandage and turned his attention southward. Scully groaned and grabbed his head to steady herself.
"I'll take that as a yes," Mulder said when he came up for air.
"Bedroom," Scully growled as she played with his ears, eliciting a groan from Mulder who, up to this moment, hadn't realized how erotic his ears were. She was going to kill him, he decided. He wasn't even sure he could stand up and she wanted him to walk to the bedroom. Slaying a dragon might be easier.
By the time they fell onto her bed, they were both laughing. He didn't remember ever laughing during sex before; it felt incredibly good. Whatever waited for them in the shadows, this coming together was a joyous expression of love and trust.
Here in her bed, Scully let go of all her doubts and enthusiastically claimed him as her own. Her hands mapped him as his lips caressed her in a slow sensual waltz. Mulder felt all his fears melt under her ministrations as they plunged into the storm.
She grounded him; even now in the middle of the chaos of physical passion, she surrounded him with the steadfast certainty of her love. Their joining was not the fiery climax that he had anticipated, but it was as intensely powerful as a tsunami. For an endless moment, suspended out of time, their souls touched and fused together before melting to rejoin their bodies.
Limp and sated, they lay together, kissing each other gently to seal the promise they had just made. Feeling oddly possessive, he curled around her and tucked her into his arms. He fell asleep soothed by her slow breathing and the steady beat of her heart. His last coherent thought was that he had found the still center of the vortex and that this must be what peace felt like.
**************
Next Day - A.D. Skinner's Office
Skinner stood at his office window, staring out at a city sealed in ice. The streets were nearly deserted. Despite the valiant efforts of the road crews, the ice made travel difficult and dangerous. Half the Bureau was either stuck at home or trying to fight the icy roads to get into work. The government was effectively shut down, not because of the perennial budget fights, but by an act of nature. For some reason, Skinner found this oddly reassuring. It might do a few of the bureaucrats some good to remember that there was something more powerful than the U.S. government.
He had made it into work by the grace of the Metro, but unless they got around to salting the sidewalks, he was not about to retrace his steps on the treacherous path from the Metro to the Hoover Building. There were advantages to having comfortable couches in his office. It had taken a direct order to keep Kimberly from attempting the trip into work. She didn't sound very convinced when he sternly informed her that he would be able to manage a day without his executive assistant.
To his surprise, there had been a message on his voice mail from Agent Mulder informing him that he was taking the day off; something about wrecking his car on the ice last night. Agent Scully still had a week left of her medical leave. Skinner wondered if that had anything to do with Mulder's decision not to venture outside. The relaxed, almost languid tone in Mulder's voice gave rise to speculation that he and his partner had moved their partnership to a new level. It might not be wise, but Skinner could not find it in his heart to criticize their timing. At least now, he had more confidence that Mulder was not going to hare off after a lead alone. Scully had ways of restraining him that were not mentioned in the FBI procedures manual, he thought with a reminiscent smile for the methods Sharon had used to keep him home in the early days of their marriage.
The sound of his inner office door opening startled him out of his musings. He was not particularly surprised to see Jason walk in, but the timing of his visit was curious. Skinner found himself searching for ulterior motives. As far as he could tell, Jason, like his predecessor, rarely did anything without a reason.
"A bitter cold morning, Mr. Skinner," Jason said pleasantly as he walked over to a chair and sat down. He was the picture of urbane nonchalance, but his eyes were as cold as the ice outside.
Skinner remained silent as he returned to his desk. Jason was the one who initiated this meeting; let him be the one to talk. He recalled the advice of an old sergeant - a Marine fights, not talks. Maybe it was time he went back to being a Marine. Jason appeared to be a man who could pluck a meaning out of a pause for breath. Skinner resolved to measure each word with care before he spoke.
"I'm here to congratulate you on your expert handling of the shut-down of the X-Files. As I told my colleagues, you appear to be one of the few people in the FBI competent enough to control Agent Mulder without undue bother. Then again, they are not aware that control is in your best interests and his."
Jason smiled tightly. He reminded Skinner of a cobra, flaring its hood and staring its prey into submission. He stared back at Jason, refusing to be baited.
"And such an ingenious assignment you created for Agent Mulder. I'm impressed. You could go far if you committed yourself to our cause," Jason commented dryly.
Skinner clenched his jaw to keep from snapping back a defiant 'see you in hell first' retort. What was it about Jason and Mulder? They were the only two men who could get under his skin and irritate him like a stinging ant.
"You intrigue me, Assistant Director Skinner," Jason confessed with a smile. His eyes remained cold and appraising, as if they had divorced themselves from whatever expression his lips chose to exhibit.
"Glad to be of service," Skinner replied in a cold, clipped tone. He was angry at himself for rising to the bait. Jason was probing; for what? He was the one in control. Mulder had surrendered the X-Files with barely a quibble and he had obediently followed Jason's orders. Perhaps that was it. Skinner let the hint of a smile touch his eyes as he re-evaluated the field of battle. Jason was expecting more resistance. He was just as unsure of his new possessions as he and Mulder were about what 'chores' lay in store for them. This could be useful, though at the moment, Skinner did not know how.
"Very good, Mr. Skinner. You and Agent Mulder are proving to be a well-matched pair. I think my colleagues grossly miscalculated when they dismissed the two of you as inconveniences. Their loss. It remains to be seen, of course, whether it is our gain," Jason concluded smoothly.
Skinner just watched him as he would watch a deadly snake on the trail in front of him. Cautious, wary, but not interested in making a fight of it unless the snake chose to attack.
"Give my regards to Agent Mulder . . . and to Agent Scully, of course. Their record speaks for itself; a highly successful one, I believe, for the Bureau and for them personally. I wish them well," Jason said as he rose to his feet. He had his hand on the door, when he turned to deliver his final comments. Skinner tensed, expecting a bombshell, possibly a blunt command to separate Mulder and Scully, for their own good, of course.
"A word of warning, Mr. Skinner. There are many who do not wish them well or who do not believe you should be allowed to continue to stand between them and the envy of lesser men in the Bureau. Watch your backs," Jason advised grimly as he closed the door behind him.
Skinner stared at the door for several minutes, trying to decide what Jason had gleaned from his visit. He was left with the uneasy feeling that a question had been asked and answered. Skinner did not like not being able to analyze the motives of the men he was obliged to serve. He made a mental note to reread Machiavelli. Jason appeared to be overly familiar with the principles laid down by the master of political gamesmanship.
He had made his own deal with Cancer Man as much from a certain egotistical belief in his ability to outwit the terms of the deal as from a desire to protect two of his people. He had learned, the hard way, that the devil always wins and laughs.
He was glad Sharon was out of this tangled web he was snared in. There would have been even more secrets between them until the last of their love was consumed in the silence. Sharon never understood why he could not lay all of his problems at her feet. She had so much love. To her, love was the simple answer. Maybe she was right, but Skinner knew that he had lost the capacity for believing in love as an answer somewhere in the jungles of Vietnam. He had looked to her for salvation, but only dragged her down with him into loneliness.
As he pondered the situation, he wondered if Mulder realized how fortunate he was to find someone willing to share his secrets; insisting on it in fact. He had been extremely surprised that Mulder had confided in Scully. That went counter to everything he thought he knew about him. Perhaps that was their advantage, he thought. The ability to act against expectations was rare and, if used wisely, could give them an edge.
Skinner gave a grim chuckle as he started making inroads on the backlog of paperwork in his inbox. He would give Mulder and Scully a chance to sleep in, but by afternoon, he intended to give them a call. The three of them needed to talk, privately, and soon, before the strain of playing this three-sided game began to twist their best intentions and isolated them.
The only chance any of them had to come out of this deal with even part of their souls intact was to put their backs up against each other and present a united front to their enemies. It was a slim chance, but the only one he could see. Mulder might not have been his first choice as a partner in this kind of war, but he was beginning to believe that he was going to prove to be one of the best. Mulder had a very old-fashioned sense of honor. Strange, he still prided himself on his code of honor. Scully was one of the most honorable people he had ever met. He wondered if the Consortium had any idea what just landed in their little corner of hell. It should prove to be a very unusual war.
**************
Jason walked carefully on the ice-coated sidewalks. It was pleasant to be alone on streets normally crowded with pedestrians, self-important people hurrying to meetings their pride inflated to important events. For just today, he was master of this environment. Skinner was intelligent and astute. His appearance should start speculation and action, hopefully in the direction Jason intended. If his hawks showed a tendency to stray, he had every confidence he could steer them in the right direction.
"Our plans are moving ahead as scheduled, my old friend. Soon it will be time for your triumphant resurrection to the consternation of our erstwhile colleagues," Jason whispered to the north wind as he stood alone on the Mall. The wind was bitter, but clean, sweeping away the fog that had blanketed the city for several days. He and his hawks were such a wind, blowing away the shadows cloaking the conspiracies of the Elder. When the storm passed, the Elders would find themselves bereft of power and influence. The great gamble was beginning. He looked forward to the day when he could tell Skinner and Mulder the part they were playing in toppling the men responsible for so much havoc in their lives. By the time he did, he hoped they were ready to appreciate the vengeance.
THE END
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