Serious: Part One by Tara Thorne

Title: Serious
Author: Tara Thorne
Rating: I don't really know all of them, so I'll let you be the judge. No sex, MSR or shake-your-finger language. I'd strongly support a PG.
Spoilers: Terma
Disclaimer: The evil FOX network, the formerly brilliant Chris Carter and 1013 all own the fine-looking but aggravating Mulder, the underused and underappreciated Scully, the one-armed hottie, and UberUrkel Pendrell. If I could steal them I would. I'm just a poor, unemployed student. That's it. Really.
Author Notes: Okay, so this is my first attempt at fanfic. Be kind. A lot of 'Shippers won't like it, but OH WELL. Feedback appreciated at as346@chebucto.ns.ca Flames used to heat my home, situated smack dab in a Canadian winter.
Summary: Scully has been having an affair of sorts. NOT with Mulder though, so 'Shippers flee in terror.

As Agent Pendrell fell all over himself to open the door for her, Dana Scully strolled through it nonchalantly, forgoing her usual pitiful look normally directed in the infatuated man's direction.

Walking briskly to her car after throwing a quick wave over her shoulder at Pendrell, Scully was actually shaking. It took her awhile to unlock the car door, and once she did got in and sat momentarily, head down on the steering wheel, mind working rapidly.

Muttering a prayer to someone for technology, she recounted the simple, minor event that had caused her growing excitement.

She had returned from lunch that day preparing for the rest of the slow workday. Mulder was out of town, mysterious as usual, and the lack of his presence left the room dark and humorless. As much as he grated on her sanity, Scully silently admitted she missed the big goof.

As she was mulling over this revelation, Scully noticed the envelope icon on her computer terminal was lit up. This was a surprise to her because not many people had her email address and she had just talked to her mother the night before, so…?

Clicking on it curiously, Scully's face changed from confused to awed to ecstatic. The four lines before her would mean little to anyone else, in the fact that they were simple and revealed nothing. But to Dana Scully, they meant the world.

Back at her apartment, Scully couldn't sit still. For one thing, she was nervous. For another thing, she was worried about the easy access anyone had to her apartment at the moment. The buzzer system was down and a doorman unavailable, leaving the building's tenants to answer their doors personally, like the rest of the middle class world. Scully didn't want just anyone coming up here.

Restraining herself from leaping off the couch, she walked as slowly and as coolly as she could to the door. It had been too long.

From the moment she opened the door she knew something was wrong. His features, his beautiful face, were for once not bruised but instead scarred by unknown emotional stresses, ones Scully was sure wouldn't be easy to heal. He stood oddly, as if at any moment he could pass out and was fighting it for all he was worth.

Silently, seriously, Scully took him into her arms and pulled him into the apartment and away from the world. The shades were drawn, the lights were dimmed, and time meant nothing. For this night, at least.

He half collapsed on her, attempting valiantly not to unceremoniously drop his weight on her all at once. She stumbled a little and grunted with the effort it took to stand strong and support him. She gently pushed him onto the couch and sat down beside him, close but far enough away to look at him fully.

Although he was obviously troubled, he nevertheless returned her adoring gaze, albeit momentarily. But this wasn't a loving relationship, not by any means, so adoring looks didn't mean much to either of them.

Dreadfully sensing that she was more eager than he, he offered up words of encouragement, though he knew nothing would be happening tonight.

Even he had to grin at that one. It was the truth, certainly, that he rarely arrived at one of these meeting *sans* injuries of some sort. Obvious injuries, anyway.

And as fate would have it, at the moment she unconsciously reached for his hand.

Instinctively he jerked it back, placing it behind his body. He watched the smile fall from her face and he damned himself for being so hasty. She would understand, he was sure. Almost sure. Hell, she probably knew already.

Obviously not, idiot His mind mocked him as he regarded the stung face only inches away from his.

Unable to handle her eyes anymore, he stared at the floor and shook his head slowly.

He drew in a breath to speak, but found no words to fill it with. He reminded himself that their relationship didn't rely on words, and that she could understand only through silence.

And it was silently that he, still staring down, pulled his arm from behind his body and reached to her. He raised his head to meet her gaze just as their hands met.

He could feel his stomach hit the floor as he saw her eyes widen. And all he felt were his stomach's actions, and nothing else.

She, on the other hand, was feeling no flesh as she had expected. It was nothing but cold, hard, inflexible and inhuman plastic. Though she knew what it was, she glanced down anyway, just for reassurance. She bit her lip and wished she hadn't.

It wasn't hideous, or scary, or disgusting or even that shocking to look at. It was just obviously not human.

Scully opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a short rap on the door.

Before she could reply, Agent Mulder bounded into the apartment, takeout in hand.