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.

-----------------------------------

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