TITLE: A Perfect Fit AUTHOR: Jess < JessLB@aol.com > CLASSIFICATION: SRA Keywords: Scully/Other, MSR RATING: PG FEEDBACK: All questions, comments, and death threats accepted. ARCHIVING: Anyone can have this. Just let me know, okay? DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mulder or Scully. Steve, however, is my creation and I do reserve the right to make him pop up again at any time. SUMMARY: Can Mulder move on after he's lost Scully to someone else? Note: This is a sequel to "Enough." While it might help to read that one, I think this one can stand by itself. If you haven't read that one, and would like to, just email me for it or go to my webpage (link located at end of story.) I used to think that everything I touched, I tainted. That every person I allowed close to me was destined to be ruined. I used to believe that I'd ruined her. That association with ol' Spooky Mulder had finally taken its toll on her and she was broken. But I was wrong. Scully isn't broken. If anything, she's stronger than ever; stronger than me. She's strong enough to realize that whatever our relationship may be, it can never be what we want it to be. She's strong enough to make that first move towards rebuilding our lives. I was hurt when she first told me that she had a date. Scully, a date? Not possible, I'd thought. The last time she'd tried to have a social life, she'd ended up getting a tattoo and sleeping with a guy who thought his tattoo talked him into committing murder. Why bother? I'd thought. I saw the question in her eyes when she told me not to worry if she didn't pick up the phone that evening. "Why?" I had asked. "I, um, I won't be home....I have a date." I'm sure she didn't see my face, because she was too busy picking at her nails. When she finally did raise her beautiful red head, I managed a smirk. "Go, girl." Maybe she doesn't know it, but her eyes are her weakness. She can't lie to save her soul, if only because of her eyes. They tell me everything I need to know. And right then, they were asking for my permission. She had gathered up her things, switched off her monitor, and was heading towards the door. Now or never, I'd thought. "Hey, Scully?" "Yeah, Mulder?" "I'm calling you at eleven, and if you aren't home, I'm coming after you." She'd given me a patent ScullyLook, the ones she reserves for my eyes only, and thrown me a small smile before closing the door behind her. That was good, though, that she'd closed the door. That way she didn't have to see me drop my head into my hands and wonder when I'd lost her. *** I met him, of course. He'd dropped by after their second date to confer with Scully on a toxicology report. It was rude, jealous, and ridiculous of me to do it, but I hated the bastard on sight. He was tall, not as tall as me, but tall enough. Dark eyes, nice nose -- I'd touched my one when I saw his, as if trying to shrink it at least somewhat. Scully had looked a little flustered when introducing us. Old versus the new, a voice had taunted me mercilessly. < Mulder, this is -- Steve. Steve, Mulder. > We shook hands, nodded at each other, and gotten down to business. He'd stayed near her end of the office while he was there, which was good, because whenever he got within two feet of me, I had to resist the urge to dislocate his jaw. Harsh, yes, but after six years of having her all to myself, of thinking of her as my own, I was feeling somewhat territorial. I hated him, not so much for his looks, nose, and charm, but for the fact that I liked the guy. He was nice. He didn't scoff at my theories, he was a willing listener, and he seemed crazy about Scully. I still had to suppress the urge, mind you, not to ask Dana exactly how well she knew the guy, and to grill her over how they met -- did he seem at all suspicious? She'd have killed me for it. And for the first time in months, we were finally in sync with each other, never mind Steve; I didn't want to ruin it. By the time they had reached their fourth date, I was nearing the breaking point. Three dates, over the period of two months. With Scully's new personal life taking off like a goddamn rocket, I figured I should probably pick one up myself. So after I sat there and listened to her make the fourth date from my desk in our office, wondering if I would have enough time to drop by the Gunmen's place to do a little background-checking on our little friend Dr. Allen before trailing her to the restaurant. To my surprise, she actually appeared flustered and to my utter delight, did not seem as thrilled about the date as I imagined her other half was. In fact, the date wasn't sealed in stone until that Friday. I had a plan. Maybe it was my seventh-grade self returning, but I decided to fight fire with fire. If Scully could date, so could I. I told Scully that I'd make sure we were free on Saturday, so why didn't she just call Steve up and arrange a date? Trust me, Scully, I said. Meanwhile, I did possibly the lowest thing I've ever done. I called up Trisha Peterson, an agent who works in Computers. She graduated with my class at Quantico, and I've always had the feeling she was interested in me, despite my 'Spooky' reputation. The thing was, though, I didn't house a single qualm of guilt at using her to get at Scully. By that point, my main focus was to figure out where her relationship with Steve was going. She would never tell me herself, so the only way, albeit drastic way, was to spy on her in plain sight. *** I spotted them as soon as I walked in. They were sitting towards the back of Ming Chi's Restaurant, and Scully was facing me. Steve was talking animatedly about something, but I could tell, even from across the room, that she was far away, mentally. Sure, she was nodding and smiling every once and again, and her lips moved every so often in what I'm sure was automatic "mm-hmm"s. I know this woman. I saw how her eyes focused a little above Steve's eyes so that it appeared she was paying attention. It allowed her to go off into Scullyworld without him noticing. It took me two years to notice it myself. I saw how her hands were alternately fiddling with the tablecloth underneath the table and playing with the straw in her glass. I grinned in amusement. Mulder to the rescue. "I'll be right back, Trish, I think I see someone I know." She nodded and smiled at me, but she was already forgotten. I had already focused all of my attention on the beautiful woman across the room and how much longer I could stand being so far away from her. She saw me coming when I was about ten feet away, and I saw her blink in surprise, her hands clench under the table. Hello to you, too, Scully. "Scully! Steve!" I greeted them cheerfully. "What are you two kids doing here?" "Hey, Mulder," Steve answered, smiling. "Don't tell me you're here alone. Where's your girl?" Bingo. Thank you, Doctor. I saw Scully's mouth open, ostensibly to tell him that I don't date, and shut just as quickly as it had opened. "Mulder, our table's ready," announced Trish, coming up behind me. She noticed Scully. "Oh, hello." I kept my grin to a bare minimum when I heard Scully's tone. "Hi." No doubt trying to be civilized. *** That dinner went surprisingly well, if you don't count the glares Scully kept throwing me, or the hard gazes towards Trisha. Trish was a sport, though. She didn't mention it at all during dinner, or when I gave her a kiss on the cheek before we got into my car, or even at her doorstep after our goodnight kiss. I had turned to leave before she spoke. "It's too late, you know." "What is?" "Dana." I squirmed under her honest gaze. "Two to one she's decided to move on." "What are you talking about?" I asked, moving forward half a step. "Move on from what?" "You." I must have started to roll my eyes, because she grinned and hurried on. "Come off it, Mulder. You both wear your hearts on your sleeve." "Trish," I began. She laughed. "Don't feel sorry for me, Mulder. I knew right away that I was the fill-in girl. I just wanted a free meal." She walked down the stairs and kissed my cheek. "Only you should have moved a little sooner. But if you ever want a friend to talk to, I'm here. As long as you pay." She winked and was gone. Well, I felt like a real jerk then. A used jerk. But a jerk nonetheless. *** Trish was right. It must be a woman's intuition thing, because two weeks later, Scully timidly asked me if she could borrow the key to her apartment for the day. I'd asked her why, only to regret it. "I -- it's for Steve. He's, uh --" She broke off, running a hand through her hair. "Moving in?" My mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. "No," she'd answered quickly. Too quickly. "Well, yes. No. Not -- not really, I just -- I'm giving him a key. You know, in case." She'd bit her lip and looked away. I was silent for a minute. "Yeah. In case." "I wouldn't bother you for it, it's just that the place takes forever to get one made, and I need mine, and --" I'd already slipped it off of my keychain. I took her hand and placed the key on her palm. "It's okay, Scully. Take it." Looking back, I can realize that those words meant more than just what they appeared to be on the surface. That Scully's words meant more. I know now that while her decision had been made, she was still seeking my approval, my acceptance. That I, in giving her that key, had unwittingly ended whatever chances may have lain between us previously. *** During the next two months, I became accustomed to Steve's sporadic phone calls. He asked me, once, if I wanted to go to the gym with him one day that week, play b-ball, shoot some hoops, talk. I said no. Maybe I could pretend things were okay and normal with Scully, but her boyfriend was a completely different story. He didn't ask again. Today I offered to drive her home. I don't know why; I just did. It was raining, and I guess I just wanted to make sure she made it home okay. Or maybe I just wanted to be alone with her, without interruptions, not inside the FBI, for fifteen minutes. I park the car and look over at her. She's deep in thought, I can tell. Her eyes are staring straight ahead, as if she doesn't know we're at her apartment already. Suddenly, she turns to me, and I wonder if she's ever looked more beautiful. "Are you happy?" Happy? What's happy, I want to say. I threw happy away the minute I let you go to Steve. I close my eyes and look away from her. I know she's pleading with me to give her some sort of reassurance that I'm okay, that we're okay. That this isn't going to ruin us. "Are you?" I find myself asking. She's quiet for a minute, contemplating. "I'm as happy as I can be." I could almost laugh. It's comical, in a way, this unrequited love stuff. I nod at her, hoping I won't start crying till she's at least out of the car. "I'm happy that you're happy, Scully." We gaze into each other's eyes for a moment more before she opens the car door and runs across the street. I sit in silence for a minute, taking deep breaths. Automatically, I glance up to her window and see that the living room light is on, and that the bathroom light just came on. It's off as soon as it comes on. I take that as my cue and step on the gas. I've done a psychological profile on myself, and the results aren't happy ones. I tend to push the people I love the most away. Often, I'm headstrong and bullheaded because of the fight I've had to put up at the Bureau for acceptance. I have a guilt complex, and I have the mind-set of a 1950's husband who feels the need to protect his woman. My strong-headedness, my bullheadedness, and my complexes have caused me to push away the one woman I'll ever love. Scully is amazing. Without so much as a word to me, she pushed her way into my life, into my work, and into my heart. In return, what have I done to her? Gotten her abducted by the smoking man, caused Them to give her cancer, ditched her. Her sister was killed because of my -- our -- work. She was taken to Antarctica because of my quest. They know she's my Archilles' heel, and they hit the bull's eye every time. I didn't know I was losing her until she was already gone. Whoever said it said it right: You don't know what you've got till it's gone. The tears start to fall, but by now, I am completely oblivious. I'm just concentrating on remembering how it felt to touch her that day in my hallway. After all, it's all I -- My cell phone chirps from my pocket, and I manage to maneuver my way to get it. Her voice greets me. "Hey." "Hey," I respond, surprised. I'm not five miles away from her apartment. "What are you doing?" "Driving home. What's wrong?" "Nothing. I-I just needed to hear your voice." I feel like an idiot as soon as a contented feeling of warmth spreads through me. Has she ever said anything else to me that mattered as much as that bittersweet confession? It's enough. Maybe it's not a normal declaration of love, but I wouldn't classify anything between Scully and I as normal. I smile into the phone. "Bye." "Bye, Mulder." "Don't stay up too late, okay?" I hear the click as she hangs up, and I throw the cell phone to the empty seat beside me. Yep. It's definitely enough. *** Four months later. "Do you see him?" "No." "Look again." She sighs in frustration. "I just did." "Well, look again anyway." She twists in her seat inconspicuously. "I don't see him." "Are you sure?" "Mulder, shut up." "You barely looked!" "He's not here," she says, barely masking her annoyance. Back off, I tell myself. I nod at her, accepting, and return to chewing on my sunflower seed. Every so often, I chance a look at her. We've been strained for the past four months. Her relationship with Steve has divided us where aliens, C.G.B. Spender, and the FBI have failed. It's not so much that we're strained, just that we don't know what to say to each other. She's practically living with another guy, what the hell am I supposed to say? Hey, Scully, catch that Lakers game last night? No? Too busy, huh? Wink. Nudge. She doesn't know what to say to me, either. I can't drop by her apartment on a whim anymore. I feel like a bastard whenever I call her at home, too. Like I'm interrupting something. I guess it would be too much to pray that they weren't sleeping together. I let out small groan at the thought and chomp down on the seed. I see her give me a curious look out of the corner of my eye. Then she sighs. "Can we go now?" "Scul-ly," I start to whine. "Mulder, it's nine o'clock. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm sick of staring out of this window at a parked plane with no movement whatsoever inside of it while we wait for this guy. He's not showing. End of deal. Let's go." "He'll show," I say stubbornly. Her eyebrow goes up. "Then you wait. I'm going home. And you should, too." I snort. "What the hell do I have to go home to," I mutter under my breath. She draws in a short breath, and I could smack myself. She heard. Hoo boy, she heard. "Mulder," she says quietly, putting a hand on my shoulder. I turn to face her, and there are so many words unspoken between us I want to cry. Fate, for some reason, chooses this exact moment to rear its ugly head. It all happens in slow motion. Someone across the room stands up, whips out a gun, flings it in our direction and fires. I see Scully move in front of me, push me down onto the floor, and then it all comes crashing down at me all at once as I fall back into reality. Scully falls on top of me, and I scramble out from underneath her, my heart catching in my chest. Jesus Christ, the blood. I grab her, pull her close to me, holding her as tightly as I can, as if my sheer will can stop the bleeding. With my other hand, I pull out my gun and fire at the man across the room. One shot and he's down. Airport security is around us by now, handcuffing the guy, but my eyes are drawn to her. Her eyes are closed, and her breathing is shallow, but she's breathing. "Hang on, Scully," I whisper. "I need a doctor over here!" I shout hoarsely. "Somebody get a goddamn doctor *now!*" I turn back to her. "It's okay, Scully. I'm here. It's okay." *** Twenty-four hours later. She's been asleep since they wheeled her out of surgery this morning. It was only twenty minutes ago, though, that I remembered to call Steve. I see him now, rushing across the first floor towards me, his face slack with shock and worry. "Mulder," he gasps, grabbing me by my arms. "Is she okay?" I nod dumbly. "She -- she's asleep. He shot her in the shoulder." "Is she okay?" he demands. I run a hand through my hair and make my way over to a chair in the waiting room. "She's okay," I whisper. It's the first time I've allowed myself to say the words. She's okay. I don't deserve it, but thank you God. She's okay. *** Fourteen hours later. "Mulder?" Connie the nurse calls, coming into the waiting room. I slowly let my eyes fall away from the television set propped up in the corner. Not like I was watching it anyway. Conan O'Brien is just not funny when Scully's been to hell and back because of me. "She's awake." Steve and I are both on our feet instantly. "Is she okay?" he asks. She eyes him. Scully and I have been in and out of this hospital for the past six years. Never once have either of us waited in this room with someone else. The staff is confused, I see it in their eyes. I'll explain next time, I promise them mentally. "She's as well as to be expected for someone who was shot." Connie turns to me. "I phoned her mother like usual." "I already talked to her mother, Connie, but thanks." I run my hands over my tired face, trying to wipe away some the weary guilt I feel. "Can I see her?" Steve asks urgently. He's obviously not enjoying this little reunion between the nurse and I. She nods shortly at him. "Usual room." He looks at her exasperated. "Which is that, for Christ's sake?" I laugh a little. It's absurd, but it feels good to laugh. I know I must be going crazy. "I'll show you, Steve." *** I watch her face through the window on the door as he opens the door and steps in. Her face is towards the window, and she turns her head, a smile on her face. It fades a little when she sees its him, not me, and I lean my head against the door. He says something to her and steps closer. I could care less what he's saying; it's enough that she's awake. In the past three days, I've wondered if I would ever see those blue eyes open again. I push the door open an infinitesimal inch to hear their conversation, ignoring the "eavesdropper" taunts in my head. "....kay, Dana?" "I'm fine, Steve." I smile at that. He pauses. "I -- I was worried about you." She sighs and looks somewhere above his head. "You shouldn't have, Steve. I'm always okay." He moves closer to her until he's standing next to her by the bed. He takes one of her hands in his and plays with her fingers. "I didn't know until yesterday. When Mulder called me." She wrinkles her brow. "How long have I been here?" "About two days, I think.." "Why didn't you know?" His face tightens. "They couldn't call me because Mulder's listed as the one to call in case of an emergency." Scully is watching him carefully. "Does that bother you?" "No. Yes. Yes. It does bother me, Dana. I-I don't know what to think anymore. We've been seeing each other for the past, what, six months now, and yet Mulder -- your *partner* -- is listed as next of kin?" She is silent for a moment. "Do you want me to put you down as next of kin, Steven?" He must sense her tension. I don't think I've ever heard her call Steve by his full name. "I don't know, Dana. Am I?" He hesitates and brushes a strand of hair off of her forehead. "Look. I'm not as blind as you may think I am. It doesn't bother me that you guys are close. Your work demands that. And I know what you've told me, Dane, but I see it; and even that doesn't bother me." His face becomes serious and he moves closer to her. "But, I'm going to ask you again, and I want an honest, forthright answer, okay?" She nods. "Do you love him?" That's enough for me; I let the door close slowly. I know the answer, or at least I think I do, but somehow, the romantic part of me doesn't want to hear her say it in that context. I want to hear those words for the first time coming from her lips to me, only to me, not while I'm eavesdropping on her and her boyfriend. I walk around the hospital for awhile, trying to give them time. For what, I don't know yet. After thirty minutes, I decide that time's up, and I prepare to make my entrance. He isn't in the room, and Scully's eyes are closed. But for the first time since I began watching her sleep, she looks -- content. Peaceful, almost. I walk over to her and gently brush back her red hair off of her face. Her eyes open at my touch, and she smiles. A genuine Scullysmile, the one that makes me weak in the knees and tongue-tied. So I do the only thing I can. I smile back. "Hey." "Hey yourself," I answer, sitting down next to her on the bed. "How do you feel?" She shrugs. "At least we match now." I laugh a little. "I was worried about you." "When are you not, Mulder?" "Did you get my balloons?" "You mean the two shaped like grey aliens?" I chuckle. "Sorry, they just seemed so you, Scully." We gaze at each other like a couple of teenagers for a few seconds more before she breaks the reverie by asking me to turn on the television -- some movie about a dog named Beethoven is on and she wants me to watch it with her. I reach for the remote on the night stand beside her hospital bed, and my gaze catches sight of a small, silver object laying next to it. Curious, I brush my fingers over it and finger it gently. It's a key. Steve's key to her apartment. I put it back down again as easily as I picked up and flip on the television set. I let my eyes fall on her again, and her blue eyes are searching mine for answers that I know I have now. It's definitely enough. I settle back on the bed next to her, and she snuggles carefully against me, one arm under my back and the other seeks out the hand that lays on my chest. I pull her closer to me, and we fall asleep some time later in that same comfortable position, the TV still on. When I wake up, I take the time to indulge myself in looking at her -- this beautiful woman who, for some reason, has decided that she wants me after all, after every thing that's been done to her because of me and by me. I notice we are still holding hands, and I kiss her forehead tenderly as realization overwhelms me. We're a perfect fit. The End. ----------------------------------- http://members.tripod.com/~SueBridehead_2/fanfic.html