One Last Push by Leyla Harrison Disclaimer: All characters owned by Chris Carter. US5 Spoilers: Kitsunegari (aka Pusher 2). Vince, oh Vince, why hast thou betrayed me? Also a teeny tiny spoiler for Emily. Rating: NC-17 for some mildly violent behavior, language and sexual situations Classification: VA, MSR Summary: After a close call, Mulder doesn't want to examine what happened -- and once Scully sees his behavior, neither does she -- but their refusal to talk to each other leads to an explosive situation. This would have sat on my hard drive forever if it hadn't been for some irises I got delivered to my door the other day. Thanks to MTS for the inspiration. **** "NO!!!" Mulder bolted upright on the couch, breathing heavily. Sweat soaked through the t-shirt he was wearing. "Jesus," he whispered. It was so clear. He could see it very, very clearly. Scully, the gun to her head, pulling the trigger, her body becoming stiff, dead already, falling to the floor with a sickening thump. And the blood. Christ, there was so much blood. It was everywhere. There was a pool of it around her head. It was on her neck, on her face, on her chin. Splatters of it were in her hair, along with pieces of what Mulder could only assume was brain matter. Jesus, that was the worst part. Little chunks of flesh and gray spongy material that Mulder knew were pieces of her brain. Her perfect, analytical brain. Sprayed all over the floor like waste material. Mulder had reached for her, touched her face everywhere, felt her neck for a pulse even though he knew there was none. His shaking fingers smoothed over her hair, the skin on her face -- what was left of it, anyway. He couldn't stop touching her until he heard that woman -- that woman who made Scully do this -- and he grabbed Scully's gun and spun around. "I'm going to kill you," was what he had screamed, his gun aimed right at her, until she spouted off details that only Scully would know. And even when he still wasn't sure that it was really Scully -- who else could that woman on the floor be? -- she shot at Linda Bowman and saved Mulder's life. Again. It was like Pusher in that hospital room all over again, except the tables were turned. It was like that, only much more horrifying. That time, Scully had been the one to watch Mulder with the gun to his head, and that time there was no blood shed except for that of Robert Patrick Modell. This was worse. So much worse. Modell's sister obviously shared this ability to somehow "push" her will onto others -- shared it so strongly, in fact, that Mulder would see Scully when she wasn't there, see her do what she never did. And yet the image of what hadn't really happened would stay in his head forever. Scully with the gun to her head. Pulling the trigger. Blood and brain and bone flying everywhere. No matter what he did, he couldn't get back to sleep that night. **** FBI HEADQUARTERS WASHINGTON, D.C. 7:30 AM Scully never was completely sure what Mulder had seen that night. She wasn't sure. But she had a pretty good idea, based on the look on his face when he pointed his gun at her. He was so ready to shoot. So close. His finger was already squeezing the trigger. Yet again. Scully hung up her coat and went to make some coffee. She absentmindedly stirred the creamer in as she pondered what had happened. Modell was dead. Now it was his sister who'd been wounded and placed in federal custody -- and Scully had shot her. God only knew if the woman would creep out of the woodwork one day and come after her for revenge. Scully turned her head and saw that the voicemail light on the phone was flashing. She set her coffee on Mulder's desk and sat in his chair for a moment, trying to imagine what it must be like to be him. To be inside his head. What was it like? What was it like to have pointed a gun at his partner -- twice? And to have been really, really ready to shoot? Scully shook that image out of her head. She remembered all too well what it was like to have Mulder put a gun to his own head. He had been silent that day. In the warehouse, though, Mulder had been screaming at her. Screaming. He had looked wild, out of control. Only one thing would have made him look that way. Scully realized that she knew what Linda Bowman had "pushed" him to see. She picked up the phone and dialed in the code for her messages. "Hey, Scully, it's me. I'm not...um, feeling well. I think I'm going to stay home today. Talk to you later." Scully slammed the phone down angrily. "Fuck you, Mulder," she muttered under her breath. Fuck you for not being able to face what happened. Fuck you for not being able to face *me*. **** FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA 9:10 PM Scully rapped on Mulder's door for the second time. Her hand hurt. She had slammed her fist into the desk more than once that day at work out of sheer frustration that she was left to do all the Modell/Bowman paperwork alone, that Mulder was acting like too much of a chickenshit to come into the office and at least talk to her about what had happened. "Mulder, I know you're home. I'm going to use my key if you don't answer the door in another minute," she called loudly enough for him to hear but not loudly enough to disturb everyone on that floor of the building. Scully picked out the "Mulder" key on her keyring, which was attached to that fucking Apollo keychain he'd given her, and pushed it into the lock. The lock turned on its own, though, and Mulder opened the door to face a startled Scully. "I didn't think you were going to open the door," she said, pulling the key from the lock. Mulder didn't look sick, of course. He looked upset. Angry. "I don't want you here, Scully." Scully took a step back, slightly startled. "Mulder --" "Scully, I said I don't want you here. Go home." "Mulder, I just think we should talk -- " "There's nothing to talk about." He might as well have literally shut the door in her face. "Mulder. There's no need to act like this. I know what she made you see. I know." "You can't know." Scully gestured and put her finger to her temple. "The gun to the head?" Mulder's eyes widened slightly but he didn't respond. "I know, Mulder, because I watched you do the same thing. And I'll be damned if I let you shut me out." "You don't know anything, Scully. Just leave me the fuck alone." He reached his hands out and pushed at her shoulders slightly to get her out of the doorway. She stared at him in shock. He rarely touched her. She couldn't remember him ever touching her like this. "Get your hands off me." Her voice was low, hurt, angry. Mulder stepped back. He wearily rubbed his eyes with his hands. "Scully --" "I guess there's nothing to talk about, then," she said coldly. Silence fell between them. Not the comfortable silence they were used to. Not an awkward silence. Just a cold, wide chasm of silence. A wall was going up between them. A hard, solid brick wall. "Then I guess you should go," Mulder finally said. "Fine." Scully turned on her heel, walked away from him and down the hallway. Mulder watched her go, watched her angrily punch the down button by the elevator. "Damn it, Scully," he called after her. "You have no idea what it was like." Scully spun around, staring at him from down the hall. "Yes, Mulder, I think I do. And I think you should have shown up today. Talked to me. I thought we could talk, Mulder, at the very least. I thought we still had that left between us." Her voice was loud and shrill. She was hanging onto her control by a thin thread. A neighbor opened his door between Mulder's apartment and the elevator. "Hey, take it inside, will ya?" he barked loudly. Scully strode back down the hall to Mulder's apartment and stood in the doorway. Mulder's shoulders sagged in defeat. Finally he gestured for her to come in. Scully practically stomped into the room and Mulder shut the door behind her, turning to find her standing by the couch, waiting for him. "I have a very good idea, Mulder," she said, mincing no words. Mulder rubbed his eyes wearily. Scully knew him so well. She always had. "I can't handle it anymore, Scully. I can't handle seeing these things. Death. Violence. Blood. I've had enough, Scully." "You're a fucking wimp, Mulder," she shot out, and Mulder stared at her. "Why the hell are you so pissed off?" he asked, incredulous. "Because I didn't show up at work? Because I didn't help you fill out the paperwork?" "It's not about that, Mulder. It's about the fact that you couldn't *fucking* talk to me." She was spitting her words out. She couldn't recall having ever been this angry at him. Ever. "Half the time you won't talk to me anyhow, Scully," he snapped back. "What are you talking about?" "Emily." Mulder practically snarled the word, and Scully's face went white when she heard her daughter's name. "Don't you dare -- " Scully sputtered, but Mulder cut her off. "Give me a break, Scully. I did everything you wanted with Emily, and all you wanted was to be alone. Every time I tried to talk to you -- to get you to talk to me -- you closed down. 'I'd like to be alone, Mulder.' That's what you kept telling me, over and over. And then she died, and at a time when you'd think that you would turn to me, you slammed the door. You wouldn't talk to me at all." They hadn't spoken of Emily since she had died. Mulder's words were sharp and cutting and he immediately regretted them. Scully blanched. She opened her mouth but no words came out. Her eyes darted around the room and she reached for the first thing she could get her hands on -- an alarm clock that rested on Mulder's endtable. She hurled it against the wall. Then she reached for an empty glass, which shattered when it hit, sending shards across the floor. "Hey!" Mulder yelled, reaching for Scully, grabbing her arm roughly. She wrenched it away from him and crossed the room quickly to his desk, sweeping papers off it to the floor. "God damn it, Scully," Mulder practically growled at her. He got hold of her arm again and she tried to free herself from his grip, but he wouldn't let her. "Let go of me!" "Scully, you can't wreck my apartment." "Watch me," she hissed. "How *dare* you bring Emily into this?" She struggled in his grasp but he wouldn't let go. He grabbed her shoulder with his free hand and shoved her hard against the wall. "Get a hold of yourself, Scully." She gasped when she hit the wall; breathing heavily, she stared at him with dark eyes. "I saw you shoot yourself, Scully. In the head. For God's sake, I saw you shoot yourself in the head. I saw it. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Do you?" She watched him, not speaking, her body trembling. Scully made a move to step away from the wall but Mulder was there first, using both hands on her shoulders to pin her firmly in place against the wall. "No way. You're not going anywhere." "Let go of me, Mulder." "No." His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her face. "Jesus," he muttered. Scully realized in that moment that he was suddenly, incredibly aroused; that he was pressing his groin into her stomach, practically grinding against her. She could feel his erection pressing into her, and she gasped, looking up at him, trying to understand what the hell was going on. How it had gotten to this so quickly. "Mulder -- " "Quiet, Scully. Just be quiet." She stayed still, silent, trying to control the terrible shaking in her body. Was it from arousal or anger? She wasn't sure. She knew that the line between anger and this type of arousal, this kind of sexual desire, was very fine, and that they were very obviously teetering on it. Mulder pushed at her again, moving his body, shifting slightly, and something hit right between her legs, not right where she wanted it to be; but the stimulation was close enough for a sharp stab of excitement to shoot to her core, making her gasp aloud. He moved again. She knew he could see the effect his movements were having on her. There were no words spoken as Mulder released her shoulders and slipped his hands down her arms to her wrists, holding them firmly against the wall. He dipped his head, using his nose to nudge her chin up so that he could lightly place his lips on the soft skin of her neck. Scully shuddered against him, and before she knew it her body was moving shamelessly, pressing closer to his, her hips rotating so that she could feel his erection again, tight and firm against her. Scully bit down on a moan. Mulder kissed his way along the expanse of her neck. She lifted her head to give him better access, struggling against him but not wanting to get away anymore, feeling his stubble as it rasped on her soft skin. He suddenly released her and stepped back. Both of them were breathing rapidly. Scully's hands went to her wrists, massaging them gently. "Come here," he murmured after a moment. She stepped towards him. Now, she thought, now he's going to kiss me. But he didn't. He instead reached for her jacket, pulling it off her shoulders roughly. Then her blouse. He unbuttoned it without taking his eyes off her face. He pushed it off her body and then looked down at her breasts. The clasp of her bra was in his fingers before Scully realized it, and he unhooked it and tossed it aside, and she was standing there, nude from the waist up. He was watching her. Staring at her. Drinking her. "Take off your pants," he muttered. Scully's fingers hurriedly found the side zipper of the slacks and pulled it down, letting the pants fall to the floor in a puddle. She leaned down to get her feet out of them and realized that she had caught her shoe on the hem. She struggled with it for a moment, fighting the sudden heat of embarrassment that flushed through her. When she finally freed her shoes and stepped out of her pants, she looked up to find Mulder tossing his jeans aside. He was wearing nothing else but a pair of simple white boxers. Her eyes flew to his erection, which tented the cloth. Mulder came towards her and swept her up in his arms, eliciting a small squeal from her. The feeling of his skin against hers was incredible enough to silence her as he carried her to the bedroom before dropping her on the bed. There was no gentleness in it. He lifted her legs and tugged her panties down and off. Her eyes drifted closed. "No," he told her. "Keep them open. I want you to watch me." Scully did as he asked, watching him remove his boxers as his erection swung free. Mulder was on top of her in an instant, all over her, his hands on her breasts, catching her nipples very suddenly between his lips and suckling on them, causing her to moan loudly and clutch at him. He rubbed his hands up and down her thighs, and she parted them for him, letting him fall between them, feeling the hairs on his legs brush against her. She took hold of him, feeling how hard and hot he was as he practically pulsed in her hand, twitching and jumping, alive and ready for her. She wrapped her fingers around him and slid her hand from the tip all the way down to the root, squeezing just enough, somehow knowing exactly how fast and how hard he wanted it. She could feel when she returned to the tip the drops of moisture there, using them to smooth her way back down. Mulder was practically pumping into her hand. He had found her core and pushed three fingers in without warning, and she cried out, thrusting her hips up to meet him. His thumb brushed against her clitoris and she practically sobbed, feeling on the edge, on the precipice, ready to tumble over it. She knew she was going to come. "Inside..." she gasped through clenched teeth, barely able to say the word. She prayed that Mulder would know what she was trying to say. He did. He pulled his fingers from her carefully, eliciting a moan of disappointment from her, but she could feel him at the entrance to her body a moment later, and she arched her body. "Now," she entreated. It was all she could get out. Mulder pushed into her before she could say anything more, and he filled her, stretching her. Both of them moaned and Mulder was moving inside her without waiting for anything, moving in and out of her body with smooth, quick strokes. "Yes, yes, yes..." Mulder gasped, his hand reaching between their bodies, finding moisture there, her moisture, God, there was so much of it. She was so wet. He couldn't get his fingers exactly where he wanted them to be. He struggled for a moment and then hit the right spot. Scully bucked underneath him. The sensations were flooding her body. Mulder inside her. Mulder touching her. Mulder moving in and out of her body. "Mulder, please," she moaned. "I can't...I can't..." Mulder knew. He knew he couldn't stand it either. He knew exactly what she was trying to say. He thrust deep, deeper, feeling her inner walls around him, hot and tight, beginning to contract and tighten even more. She was close. So close that it would just take a few more -- And then it happened. She tightened up and clenched around him, and that was all it took for him to follow. He was coming, crying out her name as she thrashed wildly beneath him, coming as well. Their bodies slowed and Mulder reached for her, for her face, kissing her finally, at last, seeking her lips with his own, kissing her. Slowly. Passionately. His tongue pushed between her lips and silenced any words that either of them would have said that would have ruined the moment. And they remained that way, their bodies joined, their mouths slowly searching, seeking, learning each other. Finally Mulder lifted his mouth from Scully's and looked down at her, smelling her smell and his, the sweet smell of sex and sweat. "I'm sorry," Mulder murmured against her lips. "Shh." Scully kissed him lightly. She arched her hips up and he moaned softly. "Scully -- " "Later, Mulder. We can talk later. Right now there's just this. Let it be just this." And amazingly enough, Mulder felt his body stirring again, and he moved slowly within her, getting hard again as he did, and he slowly pushed into her again, in and out, watching her face this time, doing it slowly, taking the time that it took. END *************************************************** "You take me in, no questions asked; you strip away the ugliness that surrounds me... Who are you? Are you an angel?" --Sarah McLachlan