Waking the Dead

by Kimogen

Title: Waking the dead
Author: Kimogen
Category: MSR
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, I just like to get them in the sack as often as possible. Spoilers: Elegy
Summary: She sat for long minutes in the car outside the hospital before driving home to her cold and empty apartment, alone, as ever.

They had argued in the hospital, about the Truth, of all things. It was always the Truth. He had accused her of working against him, in his round-about way. As she sat outside, pondering her condition, Dana could have found it very easy to hate Fox Mulder. He was always so busy searching for answers, never focusing for a second on what was right in front of him.

After sitting for nearly half an hour, she watched Mulder come loping out of the main doors and get into his car. His long legs carried him quickly across the parking lot and Dana felt a kind of longing settle over her heart that she could not explain. He had told her tonight that he feared the same thing she did, but Dana found herself unconvinced. How could he ever know the secrets of her heart, things she barely acknowledged herself? She shivered, realising the cold for the first time since she had been sat there, huddled in her big coat. She remained for a few more long minutes before forcing herself to start the engine and driving home to her cold and empty apartment.


Dana turns the key in the lock and opens the door to discover her apartment is neither cold nor dark as she had earlier expected. Instinctively, she draws her gun from the holster at her waistband, pushing the door closed behind her and she stalks towards the noises she hears coming from the kitchen. As she crosses the room, Dana calls out the words that come to her lips without considering them,

"Federal Agent, who's there?" She rounds the corner just as Mulder comes into sight, a tea-towel in his hand. His eyes widen and he holds his hands high in surprise. Dana lets out her breath in a rush. "Dammit, Mulder!" She quickly reholsters her gun. "What are you doing? Did you forget where you live?" Her tone is annoyed, remnants of their earlier altercation rushing back to her as she stands, hands on hips.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." Mulder lays his hand on her arm in apology, but Dana pulls away. She wants to know what he is doing there. Mulder is suddenly sheepish, knowing that he is not yet forgiven. He takes a step back, out of her personal space and slings the tea-towel onto the counter. "I came to apologise. When I got here, you weren't back yet, so I thought I'd wait. I wanted to tell you, what I said earlier, I was out of line. It all came out wrong." Mulder sees her face soften and she drops into a chair. She is too tired to fight. "I think we have some things we need to discuss." His voice is quiet, losing the pleading edge his earlier words had. Dana nods slowly and rests her head in her hands.

"Does it have to be tonight, Mulder?" She is suddenly so tired that she just wants to sleep. Mulder's hand is warm on her shoulder, even through her coat and she is suddenly grateful that he is there with her. When she looks up, his face is full of concern. She immediately, automatically allays his fears, "I'm fine, Mulder. Its been a long day, that's all." The words aren't a lie, she has been through a lot. Still, Mulder cringes at the words.

"Scully, do me a favour?" She is too exhausted for his games so she nods and sighs. "Will you let me take care of you? Just tonight?" His eyes are tender, he has no motive here, just concern. He isn't going to pressure her into letting him know her deepest fears, he won't force her to talk to him. He just wants to take away her suffering and loneliness for one night. He just wants to see that she is comfortable. She reluctantly agrees to move to the couch whilst he makes tea. She lays down, slipping out of her shoes and dropping her coat. It falls to the floor and remains there until Mulder comes into the room, sets the tea-cups on the coffee table and picks up the coat, thinking how uncharacteristic of her it is to be so careless when she is ordinarily so compulsive with her neatness. He smoothes it out, takes her cell-phone from the pocket and sets it on the table for her. He hangs the coat in the big pine cabinet by the door as she watches him from where she lays. He returns to her side and insists that she let him prop her up in a nest of cushions and that she drink the warm sweet tea that he hands to her. As she sips, tasting the sugar he has added, she smiles and he settles at the other end of the couch, her feet pressing flat against his thigh.

"Thankyou." Is all she says, breaking the companionable silence that had settled between them. He nods and takes a drink of his own tea. They lapse back into silence for long minutes until Mulder puts down his cup on the table before them and turns slightly to face her. She watches him over the rim of her cup, wondering what he is thinking. He has that look on his face that she knows so well. He is contemplating her, profiling her as she sits there. He does it whenever he thinks her mind is elsewhere, tries to tap into her thoughts. She nudges him with her toes, yawning around her drink and stretching out like a cat on the big sofa. Mulder takes hold of her foot and squeezes. The caffeine from the tea has begun to seep into her system and Dana feels slightly less exhausted as she reclines on the couch, her foot still gripped in his hand. She allows herself to enjoy the moment, suddenly glad to have his company, his care.

Dana barely feels his hands, pulling both of her feet into his lap as he scoots closer. Her head is tipped back and eyes are closed as Mulder begins to massage her insteps, grinning as her toes curl and she looks up in surprise.

"Mulder..." He voice trails off, the conviction in her tone dying as he continues to rub her feet. Mulder knows he is good at this, and her feet must hurt from the heels she has been wearing all day. "Hmm...you don't have to do that..." Even as she says it, his hands are working magic on her aching soles and Dana hopes that he doesn't stop. Mulder's light chuckle draws one eyebrow towards her hairline before she succumbs to his ministrations and slides down against the cushions.

Dana feels herself drifting off to sleep as Mulder's hands finally still. She sighs and turns slightly to rest on her side. She mumbles that he doesn't have to stay, but his only response is to flip on the television and press the mute button. He drags the afgan from the back of the couch and tucks it around her even though the coldness that had set into her bones was chased away long ago by his fingers pressing into her instep. Dana sleeps peacefully that night, nestled in the pile of cushions, her feet rested in the lap of her partner, who keeps vigil that night, moving her only enough to accommodate his own body on the large couch. Mulder too sleeps deeply that night.

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