World Without End Book Two: Chapter Sixteen

by Rachel Anton

The Buddhists believed that there is no real self.  That what we are as human beings changes so vastly, so frequently, that there is nothing inherent inside of us that remains throughout our lives.  Nothing to mark us as the same person at thirty as we were at six.  Every day is another reincarnation.

Being raised as a Catholic, I've always had problems with this concept.  No self means no soul, and no soul means…well, something bad, that's for sure.

But there are no Catholics anymore.  No Buddhists either.  No organized religions at all.  People might still hold onto their faith, but they keep it hidden now.  Private.

I started my life as Dana Katherine Scully.  Bright if somewhat ordinary girl.  A tomboy who decided to join the FBI and kick some butt.

One day Dana Katherine met a man named Fox Mulder.  And then she turned into Scully.  A quiet, hard and lonely woman.  Desperately in love, but too repressed and afraid to do anything about it.  Fighting a losing battle with forces unknown.

Then they came and took Scully away.  Turned her into twenty-four-a slave with no thoughts, no feelings of her own.  She had flashes, brief reminders of her former life, but essentially her only purpose was to serve.

Alex found twenty-four and he turned her into his Devotchka.  Resistance fighter, lover, doctor.  A new woman, rebuilt from the ashes.

But since he left, Devotchka has been changing again.  Turning into someone else.  A new self.  New blood, new hair, new emptiness.

There is less inside me right now that is recognizable than there was yesterday.  And yesterday I was a completely different person than I had been two days ago.

I don't know who I am today, but three days ago I most certainly would not have asked Mulder to take me to his room in the middle of the night.  But nevertheless, here we are.

He works the lock on his door, trembling like a frightened rabbit.  I am not afraid.  I feel so calm it's almost disturbing.  Eerie.

I should be scared.  Nervous.  Careful, at the very least.

"Has anyone else moved onto this hall?"  I ask as he continues turning the key back and forth, not making any progress in the door opening project.

"Uh..no, no.  Just the one above."

"Right above your room?  Or down the hall more?"

He stops moving and stares at me for a second.  I laugh at myself for the paranoia.

"Never mind.  It's not important."

"I think they're down the hall," he tells me quickly and then adds, "Way down."

I can't help but smile at his exuberance.

Finally the door pops open and he steps inside.  I follow him and close it behind me, lock it.  He fumbles around for the light switch on the wall but I catch his hand.

"Don't.  There's enough light coming from the moon."

He's got a big window next to his bed and the curtain is pulled back.  The moon is full and it does light the room.  Enough for me to realize how small the place is.  Just room enough for a small dresser, closet and…the bed of course.

I've seen it before.  I'm the one who brought him here.  I suppose I just wasn't thinking about it.

"Well, I'd offer you a chair…"

We both chuckle and I sit down on the bed, my back against the window and my legs dangling off the side.

"I'm sorry, Mulder."

"Sorry for what?"

"For…this," I make a broad gesture with my hands.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," he says quietly and sits down next to me.  "I don't need anything more than this."

"I should see what I can do about getting you another place, though.  Really, I should've done that a long time ago."

"No, Scully, most of the other rooms I've seen are like this.  It's really okay."

My room is bigger.  Much, much bigger.  But it's not my room anymore, so I suppose I've got nothing to feel guilty about.

"I'm hardly ever here anyway," he tells me, and that makes me wonder.

"Where do you go, Mulder?  I usually only see you in the lab."

"Oh, I dunno, I just poke around."

"Scouring for more tapes to listen to?"

He smiles at the memory of that day and so do I, even though it reminds me.  That was the day I really lost him…

"Sometimes."

"Make any friends?"

"Oh yeah, you know me.  The social debutante."

I laugh a bit and then frown at the pang of sadness I feel.

"I miss you, Mulder."

"I…I miss you too, Scully.  A lot."

"I mean I miss…us.  You know?"

"I know.  Believe me.  I know."

I hear him take a deep breath and let it out slowly.  He seems closer to me than he did when he first sat down.

"Can I confess something to you, Mulder?"

"Of course."

"Sometimes I wish that things hadn't turned out this way.  Sometimes I wish…I wish so very hard that it would all go away and that I could have back what I had."

"I think everybody feels that way sometimes.  I feel that way almost all the time."

How do you stand it, Mulder?  How will I?

"I feel that way right now, Mulder."

I shift a bit, turning myself towards him so that I can see his face, and the bed creaks noisily underneath me.

"Well, you're already halfway there."  He points towards my hair with a small grin.

"Yes, I suppose."

"It looks great.  Really."

"I'm sorry, Mulder.  We shouldn't have…not…"

"Not your fault."

"Yes, yes it is.  I should have said…"

"No, Scully, I knew.  I knew."

"Why not, Mulder?  Why were we so stupid?"

I know the answer to that already though.  Fear.  Just fear.

Is he moving even closer or is that me?

"I dunno, Scully.  But even if we had, we'd still be in the same situation right now."

"Mulder, let's…let's forget about right now.  Please."

"Forget?"

My hand moves, seemingly of its own volition, towards his face.  I find myself stroking his cheek, running my fingers through his hair.  It looks silver in the moonlight.

"Help me forget, Mulder.  Please."

Forget to remember, Scully?  Or forget to forget?

"Scully…"

"You know, Skinner's going to have your ass, Mulder.  You were supposed to have those reports to him over a month ago."

She whispers these words quietly, seductively, close to my mouth.

It makes me sad to hear Skinner's name.  I've never been able to find out what became of our old boss and friend.  I still hold out the hope that he is alive somewhere, thriving, fighting…

But that's not a world I'm supposed to be thinking about right now.

This is weird.

But I don't care.  I just don't care.  I can play along with this game if that's what it's going to take.

"Re…uhm, reports?  Scully, you can't, you can't put the truth in a neat little report."

"The truth?  The truth is what you want it to be, isn't it Mulder?"

She's kissing my chin.

There should be a voice in my head telling me that this is not right.  But there isn't.  I suppose sometimes fate conspires to bring you to a certain point and you've got no choice but to go with it.  Sometimes you've got to take the chances you are given, the doors of opportunity that open quickly and snap shut even quicker.

Sometimes desperate men make desperate excuses.

"What's it gonna take for you to believe, Scully?"  I try to whisper, but it comes out more like a high-pitched squeal.  She doesn't seem to mind.

"Proof, Mulder.  You know that."

Her tongue circles my ear and I shudder involuntarily.  I don't know how I'm going to possibly be able to make this last.

"All you're giving me is speculation."

I close my eyes and she kisses the lids with her gentle, sweet lips.

"You were there, Scully.  You saw the same thing I saw.  How can you still deny it?"

Behind my eyes, this room is no longer what it is.  It is another hotel room in another town, on another case.  And Scully is sitting on the hotel bed with me, telling me that I'm delusional, challenging me with her expression.

"I saw something.  I'm not going to just assume it's extraterrestrial.  I saw lights, that's all."

She nips at my nose.  I laugh nervously and clutch my blanket for dear life.

"It could have been an experimental aircraft," she mutters into the crook of my neck.

"Maybe it was the Goodyear Blimp."

She chuckles and the sound vibrates against my skin.  Pulses against my veins.  Her fingers tangle in my hair and she starts sucking on my Adam's apple.  I open my eyes again and the first thing I see is red.

"Scully…"

"Yes?"

"It's against Bureau policy for FBI agents to fraternize in hotel rooms this way."

"Well then, we'll have to keep this meeting classified, won't we?  And refuse to answer questions about it if we're asked."

"Are you sure you wanna risk your job for this?"

She answers me by running her tongue up my neck and then slipping it between my lips.  I grab the back of her head and pull her against me, surrendering all hope of common sense.

We kiss slowly, lingering, exploring.  All those years of imagining what this would be like, all the different fantasies I've had, and I never once pictured it like this.  Why would I?

But still, it is wonderful.  It is beautiful.

This is what I was missing for all those years.  This is the taste and the feel that I ran from like a startled rabbit.

She is the most amazing thing I have ever known.

She starts unbuttoning my shirt with cool, steady hands.  I am shaking like a leaf.  No, this is definitely not how I'd imagined this.

But that doesn't matter anymore.

For once, for tonight, I can only think of the here and now.  Scully may be trying to forget the present.  I will try to forget the past and the future.

This moment, this gift, this is the reason for everything that has happened.  This gives purpose to all of my mistakes.

We lie down together on the bed, facing each other, slowly removing each other's clothing.  When we are finally completely exposed to each other we begin touching, tasting, testing for sensitivity.

It feels good when she touches me.  Physically good.  But that is really a secondary concern.  The most important thing is that I am touching her.  Finally.

When I roll over on top of her she sighs, and the sound gives me hope.  Hope that there is beauty and love left in this world.  Hope that after tonight, our first and last together, we will still have something special.  Something truly unique.

"I wanna make love to you, Scully," I whisper.

She murmurs her assent into my shoulder.

I love her more than life.  More than any word or action could ever express.  And in this moment, on this night, she is mine.

I will never be able to thank her enough for this.

I sink into her with ease, achingly slowly.  She moans softly and runs her fingers down my back.

Before I can move, I have to tell her.  She has to hear it from me, finally.

"I love you, Scully."

"I love you, too."

Effortless.  So simple.  Why is it so much easier to say when it means goodbye?

I feel a wracking sob building in my chest.  All the lost opportunities, chances I've had to say those words.  To Mulder.  To Alex.  Even to my mother.  How could I not have realized how good it would feel to just say it already?

I swallow it down, but I can't stop the tears from trickling out of the corners of my eyes as Mulder moves inside of me.

Mulder.  Mulder is making love to me.  And it's just the way I always knew it would be.  He is so gentle, so full of his own brand of worship, it's almost heartbreaking.

So many times, we have come so close to this moment.  So many times, I almost reached out to touch him, to tell him.

I feel his mouth on my face and realize that he is trying to kiss away my tears.

"Don't cry, Scully.  Don't be sorry."

"Not sorry."

At least I don't think that I'm sorry.

But as my body begins responding to Mulder's, building slowly to climax, I feel a sudden sense of panic.  And guilt.  Would I feel guilty if this didn't feel good?  Does it not count as sex if you don't have an orgasm?  What kind of twisted morality is that?

Or is it just that deep down inside, I was hoping this would be a horrible experience?  That when it was over, my situation would be more clear cut?

Is it really a betrayal if you've been essentially discarded by the person you're cheating on?  Is it even cheating?  I suppose that it's not, technically.  And for some reason that makes it even worse.

God, I miss him.

But these are ridiculous questions.  The point is that I am making love to Mulder and it feels good.  Alex should be the furthest thing from my mind.  The fact that making love to Alex makes me feel free and alive and that this experience with Mulder is tinged with death and loss shouldn't even be an issue.  Should it?

Mulder moans into my shoulder and I feel him shuddering, close to his own completion.  I reach around and grab his backside, pulling him closer to me, deeper inside of me, and rub myself against him.  My orgasm is slow and sweet and when I come, my tongue is in his mouth.

He follows shortly after, whimpering out my name and another declaration of love.

Yes, it is good.

Why do I wish that it hadn't been?

This is the last time I will ever kiss Scully.  This is our goodbye.  And our hello.

I will hold her now, curled against my chest, as she purrs happily in a post-coital stupor.  But she will leave and she will not be coming back.  It's only a matter of when.  And how.

Will she give me an entire night?  Or will she leave within the hour?  Maybe she'll fall asleep and wake up in my arms.

Probably not.

I almost wish that I could delude myself into thinking I could change this situation.  If I were a different kind of person, perhaps I could change it.  Perhaps I could beg and guilt her into staying with me for longer than just this night, this moment.  Maybe, once upon a time, I would have done just that.  But I can't bring myself to that level of idiocy.  Not after everything we've been through.  To have a shell of a relationship would only cheapen what we've experienced together.

So I will hold her now because I can.  And when she says that she has to leave, I will let her.  And I will know that we've had our moment of release, of communion.  And that we will move on.  We will have to.

I only hope that this night will not be something she looks back on with sorrow.  I will hold it in my heart forever.

End Chapter Sixteen
Continued in Chapter Seventeen

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