Cost Analysis by Suzanne Schramm

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Cost Analysis cover

Title: Cost Analysis

Author: Suzanne Schramm ()

Distribution: Please ask first. Spookies okay, Gossamer okay.

Rating: R

Spoilers: Requiem

Classification: MSR, V, A

Summary: Mulder tells Scully to go home but she’s still out in the field the next day. At what point did she tell him “No way, Jose. I stay.”

Disclaimer: Even though I don’t want to believe that certain characters in this story, who were created by a man who supposedly will never have them together romantically, are sleeping together – it sure looked that way. Therefore, I not only admit I have no right to write about said characters, I also disavow their being involved.

As always, my heartfelt gratitude goes to Susanne for her extraordinary beta and constant good humor.


“Everything has to end, Scully.”

My heart is aching and my throat is closing off when I realize he’s saying good-bye. Everything does have to end, but not here. Not now. Not in this woodsy room that was meant to shelter weary sportsmen and vactioning families. “Don’t you remember when you told me that if we quit now, they won?”

“Mmmm.” I feel his chin nudge my shoulder in response.

“Mulder, I can’t leave. I won’t leave. Whatever the cost is, I’ve already paid. If I quit, they win. I can’t just walk away. Can you understand that?”

He says nothing but I can feel him tense against me, preparing another argument.

“If I go home now this has all been for nothing.”

“Not for nothing, Scully.”

“This is my job. I won’t give it up.”

Mulder is silent so I turn in his arms and kick the covers away. “Hey,” I touch his cheek and he kisses my palm. “I won’t give you up.” His lips linger, then move to kiss my wrist. I close my eyes, hoping the solid warmth of his arms and the light touch of his mouth will fill the hollow ache inside me. He stops at the crook of my elbow, his arms tightening around me as his head nestles against my breasts.

“Scully?” His breath heats the fabric of my shirt. “Can I ask you something else?”

“What?” I’m afraid. Dear God, don’t let this be the way it ends.

“You’re wearing a black bra under a white shirt. Are you flirting with me?”

“I’ve worn my jacket all day.”

“Good thing, too.”

“If it offends you so much, Mulder, why don’t you just get rid of it?”

He braces himself up on one arm and smiles at me. I can see the smile is pained but at least he’s trying. “You sure you’re up for this?”

I skip the obvious reply and don’t ask him if he is. I can feel against my hip that he isn’t. I can see in his eyes that he’s feeling the same anguish. I pull his head down to kiss him and he takes that as an affirmative response. One by one my buttons are undone, his fingers brushing over the exposed flesh and fabric beneath. I deepen our kiss, rolling him onto his back.

“Edge, Scully.” He strains up against me to keep his balance.

“Have I ever let you fall yet?” I kiss his shoulder and he smiles again, this time he even looks like he means it.


We kiss again, but it’s a soft kiss, almost hesitant. He tilts his head back, leaving only a few millimeters of space between us. His eyes search out mine but I can hardly meet his gaze.

“Don’t,” I warn him. Not now. I don’t want to start crying.

Mulder blinks and I see something flash in his eyes. His hand goes to the back of my head, pulling my mouth to his in a kiss that is anything but gentle. He rolls us back over and my legs go around his hips as I grind desperately against him. Our tongues clash, each of us fighting to memorize the other’s mouth. He breaks the kiss, breathing raggedly against my cheek. His fingers squeeze my breast and I guide his head down, needing to feel him on me, against me.

His mouth closes over my nipple and I arch my back, my fingers pulling at his t-shirt. Last chance, I think. This is the last time. This is the good-bye fuck. I know it’s not true, but I can’t push the thought away. Especially when I realize that his soft moan is not of pleasure, but of pain.

“Mulder, no.” I can’t help it. I’m crying now, I can actually feel my heart breaking. He turns his head to the side, his cheek resting between my breasts and says my name in a broken whisper.

“I’ve already paid,” I tell him. “I’ve already paid.”

“I know.”

“I’m staying.”

Hot tears run across my ribs and we both weep at the cost.



I have that same hollow feeling and only feedback will fill it.

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