TITLE: Starlight Silhouette

AUTHOR: Wylfcynne

SPOILERS: One Breath

RATING: NC-17

CLASSIFICATION: post-ep for Ascension, MA MSR SMUTFIC 
FirstTime, written for Fandomonium's FirstTime Challenge.

SUMMARY: would be superfluous, wouldn't it?

DISCLAIMER: They certainly aren't mine; if they were, they'd 
be having more fun, and I wouldn't have to save up for 
vacations!  Mulder, Scully, Skinner and the rest belong to FOX 
Networks and 1013; I'm just borrowing them for a little fun 
and games...I promise I'll bring them back on time and 
unharmed... and they won't remember a thing...

DEDICATION: Overall, all my X Files work is dedicated to my 
writing partner, Ravenwald, without whom I would still be 
doing all this using a ballpoint pen, who introduced me to 
fandom on the 'Net, and awakened the Muse, who had been 
sleeping for a VERY long time.  This piece is for all the 
wonderful friends at Fandomonium for the opportunity and at 
the Saturday Night Chat for the encouragement.


Starlight Silhouette by Wylfcynne


Special Agent Fox Mulder stood on the very patch of grass 
where his partner had last been seen on earth.  His face was 
lifted to the skies over Skyland Mountain as if seeking for 
some sight of her among the stars.  But there was nothing 
there but the empty coldness of space.

Starlight shimmered on his skin, soft as her touch, and he 
closed his eyes against that memory.  It invaded, tore away 
his grief and bared his guilt.  His partner, the woman he 
loved above all others, had been torn from him just as his 
sister had been all those years ago, leaving him behind, 
desolate and abandoned.  Just like his sister, Scully had been 
taken, screaming his name and begging for his help, into the 
light, leaving him in darkness alone.

There was no one to mourn with him now, just as there had been 
no one before: just as his parents had blamed him, somehow, 
for Samantha's disappearance, so Margaret Scully blamed him 
for Dana's abduction.  Oh, Margaret had better manners than 
Teena: she would never tell him that she blamed him; after 
all, he was not her son, to be punished with impunity.  But he 
could see it in Margaret's eyes when he saw her: grief and 
terror that warred with the necessity of blaming him while 
pretending not to do so because she knew he was the only 
person actually looking for her daughter.

He had tried to explain to Margaret that, while there was an 
open case file, with the telltale red-and-white striped tape 
that meant it was an X File, that did not mean that any 
substantive investigation was being done.  There were no 
leads, no clues, no informants, no trace evidence that did not 
lead down dead ends.  There was nothing to follow, no where to 
look.

He shuddered, chilled by the night air.  

* * * * *

He shuddered, chilled, and her fingers trailed along his jaw, 
turned his face so that his eyes met hers.  They were sitting 
on his couch; he had let her in and she had led him here 
without saying so much as 'Hello.'  He had no idea why she had 
come to see him so late at night.

"What are you doing?" he breathed, shocked voiceless.

Scully lifted her other hand to cradle his face, to keep him 
from turning away.  "Mulder, one thing that losing the X Files 
has made very clear to me: the work is just, the work is 
important and worth doing... but it is only work, and if it is 
set out of my reach, I can find other work just as valid.  
You, however, are my life and I cannot set you aside.  Without 
you, all work is meaningless, and my life is empty."

He was stunned .  He had no idea how to respond, but he was 
still coherent enough to realize that response was an absolute 
necessity.  

"I...I don't know what to say, Scully," he admitted, his voice 
still useless and the words little more than a whisper.  "No 
one has ever said such words to me.    I'm... I'm stupefied."

"And I always thought you were the eloquent half of this 
partnership."  Her smile was tender.

He tried to smile but knew it was a dismal failure.  "We 
aren't partners, anymore."

"The word has multiple applications, Mulder," she said 
quietly.  "At the FBI, we are no longer partners.  In our 
private lives we choose with whom we will spend our lives."

He looked a little closer and saw tears shining in her eyes.  
He lifted his hand to palm her jaw and cautiously touched her 
lashes with the edge of his thumb, felt the tiny swirl of 
wetness against his skin.

"Oh, my God!"  Realization struck him as hard as if he had 
stepped on a rake.  "Do you...  Does this mean you love me?  
Is that possible?"

She blinked back the tears.  "Yes," she said simply.

"How...?!"

She chuckled softly.  "You would know that better than I; you 
studied the mind and how we think.  I don't want to discuss 
the biochemistry..."

He had to laugh, but it faded swiftly as he contemplated the 
enormity of the gift she had given.

"Mulder...?"  Her confidence seemed fled; there was timidity 
in her words that frightened him: she was never timid.

"What's the matter?"

"You... you haven't answered me."

Suddenly it was all clear to him.  "Scully, I have adored you 
since you came into my hotel room in Bellefleur and 
demonstrated that you trusted me with that kind of 
vulnerability.  I knew I had to have you in my life somehow... 
but I don't think I realized it was love until just now.  I 
never had a referent for that word before; not a personal 
one."

Scully frowned.  "You've had relationships in the past; I've 
met Phoebe Green, remember?"

Now he was confused again.  "What's she got to do with this?"

"We were discussing love...?" she prompted him.

"I never loved her."  He was puzzled; how had that not been 
clear to Scully?

"You were lovers for a long time."

"We had a sexual relationship.  She used me; I allowed it for 
a while until I felt my humanity crumbling and I fled.  I 
thought you knew this..."

"How would I know it, Mulder?" she asked gently.  "You almost 
never talk about yourself."

"I didn't want to bore you... or horrify you."  He looked 
away.  "I'm sorry.  That sounds so melodramatic..."

"All I need from you is the truth, Mulder.  Do you love me?"

He turned back, met her eyes with his.  "Yes."

She smiled, and he felt as if the dawn was brightening in his 
soul.  She leaned forward to kiss him and he waited for her, 
paralyzed as a bird is by a snake.  At the first touch of her 
lips, he sighed.  Somehow the touch made the words real.

The kiss was brief, chaste; she pulled back to study his face.  
He reached up and laced his fingers into her hair, holding her 
entire skull cradled between his palms.  This time he leaned 
in toward her, and it was her turn to wait, frozen with 
anticipation.

This kiss was neither brief nor chaste: at the first touch of 
his lips she gasped and opened her mouth, sucking him inside.  
When her body melted against his and her arms went under his 
shirt to stroke against his ribs, he shuddered as his blood 
supply shifted south.

When they broke for air, she studied him intently.  "I need 
you in my life, Mulder.  In all ways, in all things."

"Stay here, then, and we'll experiment," he teased.  "What 
would you like us to consider first?"

She grinned at him and he could not help but grin back.

"Hmm... How many times you can make me scream?"

A frisson of arousal went through him, leaving him cold at the 
extremities; too much of his blood supply was needed 
elsewhere.  "I don't have a bed," he warned her.

"I've had fantasies of you taking me on this couch ever since 
the first time I saw it."

He took a deep breath and paused briefly to shove his inner 
caveman back under some kind of control.  "Now?  Right now?"

She cocked her head at him.  "Got something you'd rather do?  
Appointments with informants?  SETI research to read?  Bigfoot 
to chase...?"

"I'm afraid that if I start now I'll never be able to stop..."

Her grin widened.  "You say that like it's a bad thing...!"  
It was her turn to tease.  She reached down, grabbed the hem 
of her tee shirt and pulled it off over her head, baring her 
breasts to his stunned gaze.  She let the tee shirt fall but 
left her hands raised.  "Take me, Mulder.  I'm all yours."

He grabbed her, pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her 
and kissed her hard.  His hands slid down her body, found the 
weird little metal thing that held her skirt closed, and 
opened it, pushing the skirt away.  When he went for her 
underwear he gasped and pulled out of the kiss.

"No panties?!"  He was shocked.

"You're the one who's overdressed," she growled.  

He studied her for a moment, noting flushed skin, dilated eyes 
and panting breath, and realized that he had never seen a 
woman so beautiful.  He said so while he was pulling off his 
own shirt and toeing off his socks.  When he pulled his 
sweatpants down and off he heard her gasp as he kicked them 
aside.

"What?"

"I've seen you without clothing before, Mulder," she admitted 
shakily.  "But that's been in hospital settings, when you 
weren't at your best.  I'm... I'm impressed!"

He grinned a crooked grin, a little embarrassed as well as 
flattered.  "That's good, 'cause that's all I've got.  You'll 
have to settle for it."

She laid back on the couch, the arm across her shoulder 
blades, and spread her legs.  "I'm willing..." 

He groaned as the scent of her arousal wafted up to him.  He 
moved over her, looked down on the pale skin and freckles of 
her Gaelic heritage and decided the contrast against the black 
leather couch was more erotic than he would have imagined.  He 
dipped his head and kissed her mouth again, then started 
tasting more of her skin.  Jawline, neck and shoulders got his 
attention, and he paused a considerable time to offer each 
breast the dedication it deserved.  When she was writhing 
beneath him, moaning, he settled into the cradle of her hips.

At the first touch, her back arched.  As he sank inside her 
she moaned.  "God, you feel like a tree trunk... so big... so 
hard... " Her arms and legs came up and wrapped themselves 
around him; her fingers dug into his back.  When he was 
totally sheathed in her heat, he shuddered once at the 
thought... and she exploded beneath him.  All he could do was 
hang on until she sagged, panting.

"Damn, girl...!"

Breathless, she glared at him.  "It's been a long time.  Do 
that again."

"Do what again?"

"Whatever it was you did that set me off!"

"I just moved a little..." he thrust shallowly, and felt her 
shudder.  "I think you'll be a few minutes recovering from 
that one."

She Kegeled him and he shuddered... and she went off again.

This time he was panting with strain when she could focus on 
him again.  "You'll have to count, Scully," he told her.  "I 
plan on losing track."  He started moving against her 
experimentally, and he started slowly, knowing she had to be 
hypersensitized.  She started moaning almost at once and her 
voice made him move faster.

He really did lose count; all he knew for sure was that it was 
not long at all before he lost all control and came himself, 
hard and energetically, pumping into her with abandon and then 
collapsing on top of her, so out of breath he could not focus 
his eyes.

When he thought he had enough breath back to talk, he looked 
up toward her face.  She was smiling back at him.

"Pretty good?"

"Wonderful.  Shower?"

"Go ahead," he murmured, putting his head back down on her 
belly.  "I need a nap..."

* * * * *

"Sir, the embryo is ready for transfer.  Will this one be 
tanked or do you have a host mother picked out?"

His superior sighed happily, though Conal Slatterey knew the 
old man was desperately wishing for a cigarette though even he 
could not smoke here in this laboratory.

"There's a host mother ready in Implantation 3, Slatterey" he 
replied.  

"Very well, sir," he nodded.  "This is always rough on the 
donors," he commented unnecessarily as he watched his team 
work.  "Will this one be returned or euthanized?"

"Returned," he said shortly.  "But make sure she doesn't live 
long after that!  We can't have her talking about this!"

Slatterey glanced at the girl's terrified face: the pretty 
redhead was wide awake, though the paralytic worked well 
enough and she could neither move nor scream.  He was equally 
sure she had heard everything they had said, which he thought 
was unconscionably cruel.  He would have preferred to 
euthanize her here as soon as they were finished, but his 
superior always had reasons for his orders.

"The branched DNA should handle that, sir.  She's an 
unmodified normal."

"Make sure it does," came the growl.  "I'll be with Miss 
Fowley in Imp 3."

"Yes, sir.  The embryo will be there in a few moments, ready 
for implantation."

* * * * *

Mulder woke up abruptly, confused.  He was cold and damp, 
stiff and uncomfortable...  He had fallen asleep in the grass 
on Skyland Mountain.  He had been dreaming... but it was all 
in the past.  One wonderful night on his couch... and the next 
morning Duane Barry had been inserted into their lives and 
everything had fallen apart into misery, bereavement and soul-
killing solitude.

He dragged himself up until he could sit on the grass, and 
then lowered his head till his forehead rested on his knees.  
He supposed he should go back... but go back to what?  
Samantha was gone, Scully was gone, the X Files were gone... 
and he was helpless.

Without consciously willing it, his right hand drew his Sig 
out of the holster.  He contemplated the black steel of it for 
several minutes.  It would certainly put a crimp in the plans 
of whoever ?or Whoever? was so intent on torturing him.  It 
would mean no one would continue the search for Samantha or 
Scully... but he was pretty sure that was a futile hope, 
anyway.  He had been searching more than half his life for his 
sister and he had never even found a clue, much less come 
close to finding her.  Could he do that all again for Scully?  
Could he stand another twenty years of that futility?

"No.  No."  He lifted the weapon.

"Zzzzing..."

The sound of his phone shocked him.  He grabbed it.  "Mulder."

"Where are you, Mulder?" Skinner growled in his ear.  "Your 
partner's been found!"

"What?"  He could not quite grasp the man's words.  "What?!"

"Scully's been found, alive.  She's in ICU at GUMC.  Get down 
here."

"Yes, sir!"

* * * * * * * * *