Cruel Fate by Ford & Ursula Luxem

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Cruel Fate by Ford & Ursula Luxem

From: Ford and Ursula Luxem <[email protected]>
Date: Tue, 20 Jul 1999 16:38:45 +1000
Subject: NEW: Cruel Fate (1/2) Luxem (R) Source: xff

Title: Cruel Fate

Author: Ford Luxem and Ursula Luxem

E-Mail: [email protected]

Rating: R (sexual situations)

Category: S
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Mulder/Scully

Summary: Some things are never meant to be.

Archive: Gossamer/Xemplary – Yes.All others please link to http://www.dll-lever.com/icarus/stories/cruel_fate.txt or email for permission to keep a copy on your server.

Feedback: All public and private feedback welcome.

Disclaimer: All characters from the X-Files are the property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Television Network. All other characters belong to the authors. Similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Thanks to our ever diligent beta readers, Jesemie’s Evil Twin and Kelly.

—— ???? ——

This day’s black fate on more days doth depend;
This but begins the woe, others must end.
—Romeo & Juliet

— ???? —

Cruel Fate

Monday. 11:40am.

The tractor was a Peterbuilt, of course. It sported a full sized sleeper, an abundance of chrome finish, and multicolored running lights that could illuminate the night like an early Christmas. Its deep purple paint absorbed the reflections of a cloudy midmorning sky. On the side of the cab an airbrushed timber wolf howled his trepidations to the cosmos.

Parked on an incline above the motel, the tractor swiveled to the left, headlights peering like God’s eyes down the hill. The trailer was elongated, a double load of tankers containing liquid nitrogen. After a difficult early morning run through West Virginia, the driver hustled to pull off at the first available restaurant: Granny’s Grits.

The driver had an unusual hankering for waffles. Ever since he geared down the first incline, maple syrup and a stack of squares were all he could think about as he fought the buffeting winds over the pass. Saliva forming, he took the last turn and dropped off the mountain, not even bothering to maneuver the big rig into the parking lot in his haste.

The wind blew in gusts, gathering bits of refuse and old gas receipts, picking up a layer of fine gravel and sandblasting it against windows. One particularly hard blast of brisk air shoved the back of the purple rig and rattled the Arkansas license plate.

An unusual creak added itself to the clangor. It was almost the sound of a heavy rope pulled taut … then stretched further. The steady unraveling of tightly wrapped threads.

The creaks grew closer together, and even the wind paused in its machinations to listen.

Then the truck began to move …

— ???? —

Monday. 6:25AM.

Scully tried to remember the day she died. It tugged at her growing consciousness as she hovered over the fine line between dreams and reality; veiled in half-truths, elusive as smoke, and yet as familiar as a lover’s breath against her neck. Illusions.

Noise invaded her world. The long drawn-out screech of tires, followed by the tortured clang of metal colliding with metal. She sat bolt upright in bed, listening intently over the sound of her thumping heart.

Annoyed voices drifted in from the street, and Scully allowed herself to relax. She threw off the sheets, padded to the living room and peered out the window, surveying the exterior situation with cool judgment.

A minor accident, no injuries, and a few frayed tempers. No need for her involvement.

She closed the blinds, and continued with her morning ritual. Coffee, toast, and a long hot bath.

Surrounded by lavender-scented steam, she reclined into the welcoming warmth of the tub with a sigh. It didn’t last. Peace and quiet were interrupted by the incessant shrill of her cel phone. Another sigh, this one far from pleased, and she heaved herself from the water, grabbed a towel, and darted down the hall to retrieve the phone, water scarring the carpet in her wake. “Scully.”

“Not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, Mulder.” Scully tried to dull the chattering of her teeth.

“Glad I caught you. Don’t bother going into the office today. Meet me here instead.”

Mulder rattled off an address, and Scully scribbled it onto a nearby pad. “Got it. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“OK, see you then.”

Scully stabbed the ‘end’ button. So much for her bath. She turned for her bedroom.

Once dressed, she checked herself in the mirror with a critical eye, smoothed down her wrinkle-free gray pant suit. With barely a glance at the shoes lined up nearby, she stepped into a pair of black pumps.

Agent Scully emerged from Dana’s cocoon.

A few steps out of her door, she heard a loud snap and catapulted forward, the rail saving her from a nasty fall down the stairs. She turned and observed the object of her clumsiness — the heel of her shoe lying on the step. She collected the heel, and hobbled back inside, wincing at the pain in her ankle. It needed ice but it would have to wait.

After changing her shoes, she settled into the driver’s seat of her car, studied a map, and committed the route to memory.

The drive to Mulder’s location went smoothly. She pulled down into the motel parking lot, deserted but for one lone blue sedan, and parked.

Scully climbed from her Saturn and took a long look around.

It was a dump, although a certain quaintness remained. A battered sign creaked in the stiff wind, dust lifted in the breeze. Her mind conjured up a single tumbleweed, rolling silently across her field of view.

A large tanker sat parked just off the highway. The tired neon of the café across the road glowed faded lime. Granny’s Grits. Scully snorted. Myocardial Infarction the Specialty of the Day.

She turned. By the motel office door stood an older man, with a grizzled growth on his chin, tending a few tired-looking potted plants. He paused long enough to acknowledge her with a polite nod, then continued about his business.

Securing the car out of habit, she headed for Mulder’s room and knocked, a little harder than necessary.

“It’s unlocked,” he called.

Scully opened the door and stepped in, waited as the door creaked to a close behind her. That few seconds was time enough for her to sum up the situation. Mulder was sprawled on the bed with his favorite toy — the TV remote control — clutched in one hand. A pile of discarded clothes lay at the foot of the bed. She’d seen the signs before. He’d obviously been there all night, taken his usual morning run, and, judging by his still- damp hair and the state of what she could see of the bathroom, recently emerged from the shower.

The door closed behind her with a click. “Summoning me to seedy motels?”

“All in the line of duty, Scully.”

Paperwork was scattered over the battered table in the corner. “This better be good, Mulder.”

“Had a few strange reports. Nothing big. Things that were broken suddenly not… and here’s the best one — dead pets returning from the beyond.” Mulder grinned at her.

“Nothing returns from beyond, Mulder. Even Elvis. I’m sure this is a simple case of wishful thinking.”

“Maybe. But there have been some rumors…”

“Of?” Scully watched Mulder wind up for the punch line, hazel eyes sparkling.

“Rumor has it there’s a fellow around here making himself a time machine.”

Scully raised her eyebrows. Her mouth opened, but pure exasperation left her speechless, instead she drew her lips together again and blew out a long breath, “Time machine?? You dragged me to the boonies for this? So help me, Mulder …” She looked at him. “Even while Einstein theorized the physics that would make such a thing possible, he also had to admit that if it were possible, the evidence would already be visible.”

He grinned at her again. “I didn’t say I believed it.”

“Good.” Scully rubbed her aching ankle absentmindedly.

“Something wrong?” Mulder watched her, swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit up.

“It’s nothing. Stupid, really. I broke a heel and twisted my foot a little.”

He patted his knee, “Put it up here, I’ll give it a rub for you.”

Scully’s eyebrows raised a notch. “It’s fine, Mulder. Really.”

“No-one’s watching, Scully … besides, we’ve got a lot of footwork to do later.”

She slipped her shoes off, moved over, and lifted her foot onto his knee, “If you’re making a pass at me, Mulder…”

His hands snaked around her ankle, rubbed gently. He left a drawn out pause before he spoke again. “Ever wondered why I haven’t?”

“No, Mulder …” She closed her eyes, his warm hands easing the pain out of her ankle. It felt good. “I always thought you were dysfunctional.”

He did check to make sure she was joking, eyes darting to her face for an instant, noting the small smirk on her lips. He rubbed a little harder, hands twining around her leg, voice turned to honey, “I can show you exactly how functional I am…”

She lifted her head, looked at him for an eternity, then raised a hand to touch his cheek. He broke the dam, reminded her in a split second of what she had been missing for too long. What happened later didn’t matter. She trusted him. She loved him. Even if this never happened again, there would be no cause for regret. Scully smiled at him.

He dropped her foot as if it were on fire and stood abruptly, dragging her up with him. His eyes burned into hers as he searched her face, looking for something unnamed. His hands traced her contours and came to rest on her shoulders before starting their relentless caress all over again. The wind outside rose and fell like lover’s sighs, then hurled a pelting of gravel against the window.

Abruptly he stopped, gripped her shoulders and studied her face.

“Mulder?” She looked into his hooded eyes, “What is it?”

“There’ll be no turning back.”

“I know what I want.”

Mulder tipped her head up, and Scully allowed him, standing on tiptoe, arms somehow coiled around his neck, lips parted in fearful anticipation. She felt the room rumbling around her as he leaned down, closed in on her until their lips were bare millimeters apart.

The rumbling grew to a deafening pitch. They remained frozen in place a few extra seconds, staring at each other in astonishment. There was one thunderous, final crash, and the world shattered around them.

Scully saw purple, then red.

And finally black.

— ???? —

Monday. 6:25AM.

Scully tossed in her sleep, bound by dark threads of dreams both past and prophetic.

Noise invaded her world. The screech of tires, followed by the harsh clang of steel striking steel. She sat up in bed, one hand automatically reaching for the gun on her night stand as she listened intently over thumping of her heart.

Annoyed voices drifted in from the street. She threw off the covers, padded to the living room and peered out the slats, eyes squinting against the harsh morning light. A minor fender bender, no injuries, just a few frayed tempers.

She took a deep breath to collect herself, then closed the blinds, and continued with her morning ritual. Coffee, toast, and a long hot bath.

On her way to the bathroom, she paused, retraced her steps, and grabbed her cel phone.

Surrounded by lavender-scented steam, she reclined into the warmth of the tub with a satisfied sigh. Her peace and quiet was interrupted by the incessant shrill of her cel phone demanding attention. Her forethought paid off. She reached for it. “Scully.”

“Not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, Mulder.”

“Glad I caught you. Don’t bother going into the office today. Meet me here instead.”

Mulder rattled off an address, and Scully nodded to herself. She didn’t have a pen handy, but the address was easy to remember. “About two hours, Mulder.”

“OK, see you then.” He cut the connection.

Scully sighed heavily and hauled herself from the tub.

Once dressed, she checked herself in the mirror with an analytical eye, smoothed down her wrinkle-free gray pant suit. With barely a glance at the shoes lined up nearby, she stepped into a pair of black pumps. A small rebellion at the sexlessness of her uniform.

Agent Scully emerged from Dana’s cocoon.

A few steps out of her door, she heard a loud snap and catapulted forward, the rail saving her from a nasty fall down the stairs. She turned and observed the object of her clumsiness — the heel of her shoe lying on the step. She collected the heel, and hobbled back inside, wincing at the twinge in her ankle. It needed ice but would have to wait.

After changing her shoes, she settled in the driver’s seat of her car, studied the map briefly, and set off.

The drive to Mulder’s location was uneventful. She pulled down into the motel parking lot, deserted but for a dirty blue sedan, and parked.

Scully climbed from her Saturn and took a long look around.

It was a dump, although a certain quaintness remained. A shabby sign creaked in the stiff wind, dust lifted in the breeze. Her mind conjured up a solitary tumbleweed, rolling silently across her field of view.

A large tanker sat parked just off the highway, chrome grill facing downhill. The worn neon of the caf across the road glowed dull olive. Granny’s Grits. Scully snorted. Mulder’s idea of haute cuisine no doubt.

She turned. By the motel office door stood a man, stooped and hammered with age, but scrutinizing her with sharp eyes. Scully felt an itch between her shoulder blades, and resisted the impulse to check if her bra was showing.

She locked the car from habit, and headed for Mulder’s room, knocked, a little harder than necessary.

“It’s unlocked,” he called.

Scully opened the door and stepped in, waited as the door creaked to a close behind her. Mulder was sprawled on the bed, a pile of discarded clothes nearby. She’d seen the signs before. He’d obviously been there all night, and, judging by his still- damp hair and the state of what she could see of the bathroom, recently emerged from the shower.

The door closed with a click. “Summoning me to seedy motels?”

“All in the line of duty, Scully.”

Paperwork was scattered over the well-worn table in the corner, and aligned on the dresser in neat piles. “What is it?”

“Had a few curious reports. Nothing big… Things that were broken suddenly not… and here’s the best one – deceased pets returning from the beyond.” Mulder grinned at her.

“Nothing returns from beyond, Mulder. Even Elvis. I’m sure this is just a case of wishful thinking.”

“I’m reserving judgment on Elvis, and there have been some rumors…”

“Of?” Scully watched Mulder wind up for the punch line, hazel eyes twinkling.

“Rumor has it there’s a fellow around here making himself a time machine.”

Scully raised her eyebrows. Vexation left her speechless, she drew her lips together and blew out a long breath. “Time machine?? You dragged me to the boonies for this? So help me, Mulder…” she looked at him. “Einstein disproved the possibility of such a thing.”

“Who am I to argue with Einstein?” He grinned at her.

“Good.” She rubbed her ankle absentmindedly.

“Something wrong?” Mulder said, sitting up.

“It’s nothing. Silly really… I broke a heel and twisted my foot a little.”

He patted his knee, “Put it up here, I’ll give it a rub for you.”

Scully’s eyebrows raised a notch. “It’s fine, Mulder. Really.”

“No-one’s watching, Scully… all part of the service.”

She slipped her shoes off, moved over to him and lifted her foot onto his knee, “If you’re making a pass at me, Mulder…”

His hands snaked around her ankle, kneaded gently. “Ever wondered why I haven’t?”

“No…” She closed her eyes, his enthusiastic hands easing the pain out of her ankle. It felt good. “I always thought you were dysfunctional.”

He checked to make sure she was joking, eyes darting to her face for an instant, then an answering smile lit his face. He rubbed a little harder, hands winding around her calf, voice turned to honey, “I could always show you exactly how functional I am…”

She didn’t consider consequences. He broke the dam, reminded her in a split second of what she had been missing for too long. She lifted her head, then lifted a hand to brush his cheek. He dropped her foot as if it were molten lava, and stood, dragging her up with him. His eyes burned as he searched her face, looking for something as yet unnamed. His hands outlined her contours and came to rest on her shoulders before starting their persistent caress again.

The wind outside rose and fell like lover’s sighs, then flung a pelting of gravel against the glass.

Abruptly he stopped, gripped her shoulders and studied her face.

“Mulder?” She looked into his hooded eyes, “What is it?”

“There’ll be no turning back.”

“I know.”

Mulder tipped her head up, and Scully allowed him, standing on tiptoe, arms somehow coiled around his neck, lips parted in anxious anticipation. His lips brushed hers with a silky caress.

She closed her eyes and took the kiss deeper, reading surprise in the set of his shoulders. Her hands curled around his back, drew him closer. She felt the goddess enthroned atop an ivory mountain, poised to snatch away his soul if it so pleased her. Her tongue darted into his mouth again, mimicking the unconscious thrust of her hips.

It happened in the space of a heartbeat. Wood and glass flew about like leaves in a gale, a thousand needles pricked her. Mulder was snatched from her arms, vanished into a splintered maelstrom.

Then she was airborne, weightless, all flailing arms and legs until she bounced off the mattress and hit the floor with a crash that knocked the wind out of her.

Mulder. She scrambled through the debris, tossing aside whatever she put her hands on, deaf to the sound of her own desperate cries. When she came across his hand protruding from the rubble, she immediately checked for a pulse. Finding none, she pounded on the cold metal of the cab in frustration.

Above her, the trailer tank’s metal shell shrieked its last gasp —a bloated, pregnant belly poised to spew. She told herself there was nowhere to run, took his hand, and prayed.

Her world turned to crystal. White, perfect, frozen in time.

— ???? —

One hand she press’d upon that aching spot Where beats the human heart, as if just there, Though an immortal, she felt cruel pain: —John Keats

Monday. 6:25AM.

He came to her in sleep. Soothed her nerves, infused every cell in her body with a joy of life; reincarnated her.

Noise invaded her world. The screech of tires, the clatter of molded metal colliding with metal. Scully sat bolt upright in bed, listening intently over the sound of her thumping heart, one word on her lips.

“Mulder…”

Annoyed voices drifted in from the street, and she forced herself to take a deep calming breath. She didn’t need to look out the window. A minor accident and a fading erotic dream wasn’t about to spoil her usual morning routine.

She collected her cel phone and headed for the bathroom.

Smothered by lavender-scented steam, she slumped into the heat of the tub with a small sigh. Her cel phone shrilled, demanding attention. She reached for the phone and thumbed it on, shoving her damp hair away from one ear. “Scully.”

“Not interrupting you, am I?”

“No, Mulder. Nice of you to ask.”

“Glad I caught you. Don’t bother with the office today. Meet me here.”

Mulder rattled off an address, and Scully nodded. “Soon as I can, Mulder.”

“OK, See you then, Scully.”

Once dressed, she checked herself in the mirror with a discriminate eye. With a glance at the shoes lined up nearby, she made a decision and stepped into a pair of black pumps. They made her feel alluring despite the tiresome suit.

Agent Scully emerged from Dana’s cocoon.

A few steps out the door, she felt a snap and fell, the rail saving her. She turned and observed the object of her clumsiness; the heel of her shoe lying on the step. She hobbled, wincing at the stab in her ankle. It needed ice but that could wait until later.

A change of pumps, a quick check of the map, then she was en route to her destination.

The drive went smoothly. She pulled into the motel car park, deserted but for one lone car. Mulder’s. She parked alongside then climbed out of her car and acquainted herself with the scenery.

Yes, it was a dump. A certain quaintness remained, a familiarity dredged up like a long lost memory. The dilapidated sign swung in the stiff wind. Dust danced on the breeze. Her mind conjured up a lonely tumbleweed, rolling across an expanse of nothing.

A double tanker truck sat parked just off the highway, violet cab pointed down the hill towards the motel. By the office door stood an old man, watching her with weary eyes. Scully waited as he approached. “Can I help you?”

“We have to find the driver of that truck, ma’am. He needs to move it.”

Scully glanced over at the tanker. It might not have been the best choice of parking spots, but then again, there were no good places to park eighteen wheelers. “There isn’t anything I can do, sir. He’s not breaking the law.”

The man’s expression changed, surprise etched on his wrinkled features.

Scully pursed her lips and studied the shabby old man a little closer.

He offered her a tremulous smile. “Can you just go ask him to move it?”

“He’s not breaking any laws …” Scully repeated, offering him a pleasant if vague smile.

“Maybe you and the young man would like a different room today? The honeymoon cabin perhaps?”

“I think not,” Scully replied, eyes narrowing.

The man sighed, then wandered back to his office, tossing her looks over his shoulder and mumbling to himself.

She locked the car automatically, headed for Mulder’s room and rapped on the door.

“I’m open,” he called.

She stepped in, waited as the door creaked to a close behind her. That few seconds was time enough for her to sum up the situation. Mulder sprawled on the bed, the TV remote control clutched in one hand. A pile of dirty clothes at the foot of the bed. She’d seen the disarray before. He’d obviously just emerged from the shower.

The door closed with a click. “Summoning me to shoddy motels?” she asked.

“All in the line of duty, Scully.”

“What is it this time?” She rubbed her ankle absentmindedly, choosing to ignore the paperwork strewn about the room, sure it was all just more Mulder’s wild theories designed to give her a headache.

“Something wrong?” Mulder asked, sitting up and flicking off the TV.

“It’s nothing … I broke a heel and twisted my foot.”

He patted his thigh, “Put it up here, I’ll rub it for you.”

Scully’s eyebrows raised a notch. “It’s fine, Mulder. Really.”

“Scully we’ve got a lot of footwork to do later. Let me help.”

She slipped her shoes off, moved over and lifted her foot onto his thigh. “Are you making a pass at me, Mulder?”

His hand caressed her ankle, “Ever wondered why I haven’t?”

“No.” She closed her eyes, his hot hands soothing the ache. She had to admit, it felt good. “I always thought you were dysfunctional.”

He laughed, and massaged a little harder, voice turning to honey, “I can show you exactly how functional I am …”

Their eyes met and time stalled. He reminded her in that split second of what she missed for so long. Later didn’t matter. She trusted him. She loved him. Even if this moment never happened again, she would have no regrets.

Scully brushed his cheek with a hand, then did it again, offering him a slow dawning smile. He stood, dragging her up with him, eyes blazing. His hot hands outlined her contours and came to rest on her shoulders before starting their persistent caress again. The wind outside howled, then heaved gravel against the window.

Mulder tipped her head up, exposing the line of her throat, and Scully stood on tiptoe, arms twisted around his neck, lips parted in expectation. He was tentative, mouth grazing her twice, like an airplane examining the runway before landing.

She closed her eyes and took the kiss deeper, reading surprise in the set of his shoulders. Her hands curled around his back, drew him closer. She felt the goddess enthroned atop an ivory mountain, poised to snatch away his soul if it so pleased her. Her tongue darted into his mouth again, mimicking the unconscious thrust of her hips.

They parted for air only once before plunging back to the depths, Mulder’s hands worshiped her curves, as they should. She allowed the intimacy of his touch beneath her satiny shirt, made no protest as he tugged aside the lace of her bra. She leaned into him, letting her breasts fall into his waiting hands. A gift.

>From his sharp intake of breath and gentle squeezing, he approved. Scully slid a hand down, over his belly and did some embracing of her own. Mulder groaned, helpless in her hand, but found his voice. “There’ll be no turning back.”

She unfastened his jeans and pushed them towards the floor, nails scraping down the long length of his legs. That was a good enough answer. He hastened to kick them aside, and yank the t- shirt over his head.

She waited, allowing him to take her jacket, and drape it over a chair, allowing him to unbutton her blouse and add it to the pile. Her pants went next, slithering down her hips to puddle at her feet. Mulder’s eyes were busy feasting on her contours, so she stepped out of her panties and unfastened her bra in two swift movements, then discarded them and moved forward.

The connection of hot skin with hot skin left her aching with the need for a union. Scully rubbed herself against his solid frame, and listened to the incomprehensible sounds coming out of his mouth. She pushed him, backwards, and fell with him onto the bed, crawled up the length of his body and attacked his mouth. He was lost, eyes unfocused like a hypnotized goat.

Power coursed through her. Scully knelt, one hand stroking the length of his erection, the other braced on his chest. Slowly, as befitting her station, she drew him into her body, and enveloped him. He groaned and writhed beneath her, eyes closing. Scully smiled and moved slowly, caressing him, teasing him, punishing him.

The cry that tore from Mulder was pure animal frustration. In one swift move, he rolled them over, pinned her to the bed with his body and invaded her mouth with his tongue.

A noise tore from her throat, loud, undignified, guttural. She urged him on, hands clawing his rear in an attempt to pull him deeper. They moved in unison, encased in a bubble of golden light. She thought of the hackneyed clich of the earth moving. Banal as it seemed, the bed appeared to be shaking with something other than their frantic thrusts. There was a distant rumbling, increasing in volume as she listened. An avalanche of reverberations, so insistent even Mulder tried to stop in mid stroke. His body betrayed him, demanding completion. His shout of relief was lost in the cacophony. Scully, close, but not close enough, peered up over his shoulder in disbelief at the strident splintering of wood and the thrust of purple metal into her line of vision.

She knew. They both knew. It wasn’t meant to be like this. It was never meant to be at all.

— ???? —

Monday. 6:25AM.

Sleep didn’t come easily anymore. Long awake, tormented by ghosts from a past that wasn’t hers, Scully sat up in bed, and watched the minutes tick by. An inexplicable sense of waiting grew stronger by the passing minutes.

Then it happened. The screech of tires, the crash of steel on steel.

She relaxed as the sound of annoyed voices drifted in from the street. It wasn’t about to spoil her morning ritual. Tea and toast, then a long, hot soak. She ate and took her cel phone to the bathroom.

The embracing warmth of the tub enveloped her, but she was preoccupied. She stared at her phone. It rang. “Scully.”

“Not interrupting anything, am I?”

“My morning, Mulder.”

“I’m sorry … but I’m glad I caught you. Don’t bother going in today. Meet me here.” He rattled off the address and directions.

Scully nodded. “I’ll be there soon.”

“See you then, Scully.” There was a pregnant pause. “Enjoy your bath.”

She raised an eyebrow, decided not to give him the pleasure of confirming his statement. “Goodbye, Mulder.” Her finger stabbed ‘End’, and she climbed from the tub and toweled off, then dressed.

Scully eyed her shoes for an inordinate amount of time. She chose the flats. They went with the pants suit, and made her feel more professional.

She climbed in her Saturn and took a cursory glance at the map. The route was familiar. Head for the boonies and hang a left.

The drive went smoothly. She pulled into the motel parking lot, deserted but for one lone Chevy, and climbed out of the car.

Yes, it was a dump. Of course. A certain quaintness remained around the frayed edges. A weathered sign swung in the stiff wind. Dust danced on the breeze. Her mind conjured up a individual tumbleweed, rolling across an expanse of nothing.

A lengthy tanker truck sat parked just off the highway, the truck-stop across the road the likely hideout of the driver. By the office door stood an elderly gentleman, watching her with keen blue eyes. For an old man he was sprightly, upon her in a few seconds, one hand clutched her arm in desperation.

“Can I help you?” Scully studied his face. She saw something prosaic she couldn’t quite place.

“I keep telling you, Agent Scully, we need to find the driver of that truck!”

Scully frowned, “How do you know my name?”

The man sighed sharply and shook his head.

Scully glanced over at the tanker. It might not have been the best choice of parking spots, but then again, there were no good choices to park 18 wheelers. “There isn’t anything I can do, sir. He’s not breaking the law. And even if he were, I’m federal, it’s a local matter … “

The man’s expression changed, suddenly seeming surprised. “You don’t remember.”

Scully pursed her lips and spoke slowly, convinced the man was hard of hearing on top of his other ailments. “He’s not breaking any … laws …”

He leaned closer, “Don’t go in that room? You hear me? Get your man out.”

Scully’s eyes widened in question, but he was gone, marching across the parking lot towards the diner across the highway.

The door opened behind her.

“Scully? Thought it was you.” Mulder slumped against the door jamb. “What is it?”

“Nothing … I think …” She turned and walked past him into the room, “I think the manager here is a bit … odd.”

Mulder nodded. “He woke me up at the crack of dawn wanting me to move to another room.”

“Why didn’t you?” Scully peeled off her jacket and began glancing over the paperwork Mulder had strewn over the desk.

“I will. Wanted to get organized first.” Mulder dropped onto the bed, sprawled out and made himself comfortable. He smirked at Scully’s perplexed expression.

She blew out a long breath, “Time machine? You dragged me three hours out of town for this? If you see HG Wells, Mulder, be sure to give him my regards.” She turned for the door.

“I don’t believe it either.”

There was a long drawn-out silence. Scully felt as if something was missing. She moved back into the room and poked around at the papers strewn over the table, her interest distracted.

“Scully? Something wrong?”

“Nothing … just thinking …” Her brow furrowed as she stared at the papers.

“Thinking what?”

“Just wondering …” Scully turned and looked over at him, “…why you never made a pass at me before.” She froze. Where the hell did that come from?

Mulder’s expression was priceless. After a splintered second he grinned. “Probably because you think I’m dysfunctional.”

She winced. Deep down, she knew he loved her. But he had a thousand guilty reasons to keep his distance. He didn’t deserve her; she deserved better than him. When it really mattered, he was there. After all was said and done, he was male. The big problems were obvious; slapped him in the face. The subtleties, however, always slipped through his fingers like so much loose change to vanish under the sofa.

She used his guilt as a wedge. Perhaps most of all she was afraid that he was right. Not this time. She walked to him, stood by the bed.

He watched with liquid eyes, then laughed, voice turning to honey, “I can show you exactly how functional I am …”

Scully reached down and brushed his cheek with a tentative hand, caressing his freshly shaven jawline. He reminded her of what she longed for. Later didn’t matter. She trusted him. She loved him. Even if this moment never happened again, she would have no regrets.

Mulder stood, eyes kindling. His hands outlined her contours and came to rest on her shoulders before starting their persistent caress again.

He tipped her head up, and Scully stood on tiptoe, arms twisted around his neck, lips parted in expectation. He was hesitant, mouth grazing her twice, like a blind man finding his way.

She closed her eyes and intensified the kiss, reading surprise in the set of his shoulders. Her hands curled around his back, drew him closer. She felt the goddess enthroned atop an ivory mountain, poised to snatch away his soul if it so pleased her. Her tongue darted into his mouth again, mimicking the unconscious thrust of her hips.

They parted for air only once before plunging back into the depths, Mulder’s hands worshiped her curves, as they should. She allowed the intimacy of his touch beneath her satiny shirt, made no protest as he tugged aside the lace of her bra. She leaned into him, letting her breasts fall into his waiting hands. A gift.

He gave a sharp intake of breath and squeezed firmly, approving. Scully slid a palm down, over his belly and did some squeezing of her own. Mulder groaned, helpless in her hand. Somehow he found his voice. “There’ll be no turning back.”

The wind outside howled, then regurgitated gravel against the window.

A sense of dread overpowered her. She grabbed her shirt and yanked it on, fumbled hastily with the buttons. “Get dressed.”

“Scully!” The name ripped from him, somewhere between disbelief and desperation. “What the fuck-”

She shook her head. “It’s not what you think, Mulder. We have to go. Now.” She shoved her shirt tail down her pants and spun around.

Scully burst out door and into the parking lot, scanned the area, scenery swirling around her, unable to pinpoint exactly what she needed to find. Mulder stumbled outside a moment later, silenced, efforts still concentrated on getting the blood relocated to his brain.

At the top of the verge to the highway, the lavender truck still sat, driver’s door open and the engine running. The breeze also brought with it the agonized howls of a distressed human being, faint, but distinct.

Scully ran. Mulder pursued, hands shoved in his front pants pockets. The wailing grew louder as they approached.

Scully rounded the blind side of the truck and stopped short. Wedged between the massive wheels was a body, bloodied and shattered. Nearby, the truck driver wandered in a daze, crying.

“I didn’t see him … he was at me to move the truck … I just didn’t see him there …”

Scully moved forward and knelt down to check the pulse of the man under the truck. A last mournful howl then silence. Scully waited a moment, then stood and shook her head as Mulder’s shadow loomed over her. “He’s gone.”

“Ugh,” was Mulder’s contribution.

“Doesn’t he look … familiar?” Scully ran a hand through her hair absently, eyes still glued to the dead man.

“Of course he does.” Mulder stepped back, tugged his phone out of his pocket. “That’s the motel manager.”

“I know …” Scully frowned. “I just feel like I’ve seen him somewhere else … maybe …”

“Sex and death,” Mulder said to no one in particular as he jabbed at his phone’s keypad, “makes the world go round.” He shook his phone and cursed. “Not working. I’ll call from inside.”

Scully chewed her lip a second, “Mulder, I—”

He shook his head and waved her off, already walking away. “Don’t. You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry, Scully.”

The sobs from the man sitting on the purple truck’s step continued, the desperate lament of one who knew some things could never be undone.

“Mulder!” Scully stared at his retreating back, until she saw him slip into the restaurant and out of sight, bound to her spot by feet of clay.

A patrol car rolled to a stop a few yards away, cementing her need to stay. She was a professional. Her services were needed. Scully took a deep breath and turned to meet the uniforms.

Mulder could wait. There would always be tomorrow.

— ???? —

End

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