x-no-archive: yes
HABEAS CORPUS
Title: Habeas Corpus (1/1)
Author: Plausible Deniability
Address: pdeniability@hotmail.com
Archive: Let's just consign this one to oblivion.
Category: S, some H
Rated: R (but an R with an adult slant)
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Mulder/Scully. Characters die.
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program "The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Sometimes love means never having to say anything at all.
THANKS to my betas, Becky, Dasha, and Sharon.
Warning: This is very definitely a character death story, and a sick one at that. Sensitive souls should bail now.
----
"...and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death."
-- Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Sonnets From the Portuguese #43"
****
"Mulder," said Scully in an oddly strained voice, "I don't feel so well."
Mulder turned his head and looked at her. She was lying beside him, the rumpled sheets only half-covering her breasts, her skin still flushed and rosy. "What's wrong?"
"My chest hurts," she said. "I can't breathe."
Mulder smiled to himself. He was one red-hot lover, he thought happily. It had been a good three or four minutes since he'd rolled off Scully, and she was still panting.
"Mulder," she said, "Can't -- breathe -- "
Oh, yes. When he fucked a woman, she stayed fucked.
Scully reached out and clutched Mulder's arm, her fingers digging into his bicep. "Ah!" she gasped. "My -- heart -- "
"My darling," he returned dutifully. He was not much given to pet names, really, but women seemed to like that sort of thing.
Her grip tightened, tugging insistently.
"Jeez, Scully," he said, "give me a few minutes to recover first, would you?"
Her hand fell away.
He smiled, and reached for the remote. Letterman was going to be on in another five minutes anyway. They could do it again after the Top Ten list.
****
"I distinctly sent for both you and Agent Scully," Skinner said when Mulder walked into the AD's office alone. "Where is she?"
Mulder attempted to hide a slightly sheepish expression. "She didn't come in to work today."
"She's sick?"
"She just needed to get a little rest."
Skinner's eyes narrowed. He'd suspected for some time now that his agents might be having an affair. If the guilty-but-unrepentant look on Mulder's face was any indicator, it looked like his suspicions were correct.
Then again, Skinner thought, Agent Scully was one of his better agents. At least, compared to Mulder she was. Her health had suffered several setbacks in the last few years. Perhaps a little time off wasn't completely out of line.
"Has Agent Scully been showing signs of fatigue lately?" he asked.
Mulder reflected for a moment. Come to think of it, Scully had seemed pretty worn out in the evenings. Until last night, every time he'd hinted that he wanted to have sex, she'd told him, "Mulder, I'm really tired."
"She has seemed a little lacking in energy, sir."
Skinner frowned. "In that case, Agent Mulder, I'd like to see Agent Scully take a week of the vacation she's accumulated. If she argues, tell her that I consider it an order. Is that clear?"
Mulder nodded, though a little unhappily.
"Good," said Skinner. "Now let's go over this latest complaint from the Newark PD about what they call your 'unorthodox investigative techniques.' The third such complaint, I might add, in two months."
Mulder tried to look like he was listening. Mostly, though, he was distracted by thoughts of how outraged Scully was going to be when she learned that Skinner wanted her to take time off. She would probably bite his head off.
He was greatly relieved, therefore, when he gave her the news that night.
She took it with surprising calm.
****
Mulder couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something different about Scully. Not that he was complaining; on the contrary, he was pretty happy about it. He just wondered what had caused such a pleasant change.
For one thing, she obviously wanted him as she had never wanted him before. Each evening when he went to her apartment, he found her waiting for him, naked in bed. She always wore the same come-hither smile, too. If he didn't watch out, he thought, he was liable to start feeling smug.
For another thing, she had stopped lighting all those candles when they made love. He had always hated the candles. He'd worried that they might burn down the apartment, and besides, who wanted to waste quality sack time on lighting a bunch of candles? He was pretty happy to see the last of that particular quirk.
She was also a lot less inhibited. Before, she'd tended to want the lights off, apparently insecure about her thighs or her breasts or whatever it was that women were always insecure about. Now, however, she seemed so much more comfortable with her body. She would lie sprawled on the bed in all her naked glory, not objecting at all while he had his fill of looking.
Best of all, she seemed to enjoy his lovemaking like never before. Formerly she'd had a habit of barking out instructions during sex -- "Harder," "Faster," "You're missing it by a good three inches again, Mulder" -- but now she'd become much less demanding. It seemed, he thought with satisfaction, that he was suddenly doing everything right.
He wondered what had caused the change. Had her trust in him grown, now that they'd been lovers for a while? Was he just becoming more attuned to her needs, more knowledgeable about her body? Or had she been suffering from PMS before?
He wasn't sure. He only knew that he was a very lucky man.
****
Near the end of the week, they had a lover's quarrel.
He returned to her apartment one night to find her lying in bed as usual, but this time with the covers pulled up almost to her chin.
His face fell. "What is it?" he asked. "What did I do?"
She didn't answer.
"Come on, Scully," he said. "I think I at least deserve to know why you're angry at me."
He waited, but she just went on regarding him with a steady, accusing stare.
"You're giving me the silent treatment, Scully?" His jaw set. "Of course. How perfect. God forbid that we should really talk about it when something is bothering you."
He glared back at her. They went on for a long time that way, staring each other down.
And then Mulder lost himself in the fathomless depths of her eyes. He realized how wrong he had been. He realized how much he loved her. He realized that it had been almost twenty-four hours since they'd done the Horizontal Nasty Dance, and that she was naked under the sheets. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry," he blurted out, and sat down on the bed beside her.
He flopped down so hard that her whole body bounced on the mattress. When he looked down, her arm was across his lap, her hand resting forgivingly on his thigh.
"Oh, Scully," he said, eyes brimming with tears. He took her hand in his and kissed it.
He enjoyed their passionate make-up sex. Both times.
****
"You know what I'd like to try?" said Mulder the next evening as they cuddled naked in bed.
She lay beside him in receptive silence.
"I'd like to try tying each other up," Mulder said. "Just once, maybe. You know, nothing really kinky, just a little harmless fun."
He waited for her objection, and felt a little thrill when none came. Attagirl, Scully, he thought. He was going to make an adventurer of her yet. Of course, she hadn't exactly applauded the idea, but then Scully had always been a little shy that way.
He looked over at her. She had her head turned toward him, her gaze unwavering, that familiar come-hither smile still hovering on her mouth.
He grinned at her, and stretched over to grab his tie from where it lay slung over the headboard. "I'll tie you up first," he said, working the silk expertly into a couple of bowline knots.
She just regarded him coolly.
"Yeah, okay," he said, "I can see you're not exactly crazy about that idea. I'll tell you what: I'll go first." He slipped his own hands into the loops and tightened the knots around his wrists. "I'll be at your mercy, see? And we'll need a safe word. That's a code word I can say at any time if I want you to stop or if I want to be untied. My safe word will be 'Phoebe.'"
It seemed to him that mischief lurked in her wide eyes.
"And just to make it more interesting" -- he got off the bed and picked his belt up off the floor with his bound hands -- "I think I'll try it with this around my neck."
He half expected her to stop him, to tell him it was too dangerous. Instead she just watched him as he looped the end of the belt through the buckle and slipped it over his head, noose-fashion.
"Now remember," he said, winking at her, "my safe word is 'Phoebe.'" He reached up and hooked the end of the belt to the top of the bedpost.
"Okay," he said, stepping over his bound hands so that they wound up behind his back, then dropping down onto the bed so that the belt went taut, "now do your thing."
She didn't, though. She just went on gazing at him with a twinkle in her eye.
Damn, he thought. Didn't she realize that he was supposed to be the submissive one? Not only that, but the belt was uncomfortably tight around his neck. "Scully," he croaked, his voice thin because he could not get much oxygen, "loosen the belt a little."
But she just lay there.
"Scully," he said, feeling the leather biting into his neck, "come on, loosen it up."
She just stared, blue eyes unblinking.
"Oh, I get it," he wheezed. "Phoebe."
She just lay there.
"Phoebe," he croaked. "Phoebe!" In a panic, he struggled to free his wrists from their confinement, but there was a reason he had once earned a merit badge for tying knots. "Phoebe -- "
It occurred to him as the roaring in his ears began, just before the lights grew dim, that perhaps he had made a somewhat poor choice of safe word.
****
Skinner reached for his coat with a smile on his face. He was actually getting out of work at 5:00. In fact, the whole week had gone with surprising smoothness. There had been no angry calls from local law enforcement, no red-stamped expense accounts sent back from Accounts Payable, no frantic summons to any hospital emergency rooms. He could not remember a week when Agents Mulder and Scully had been less trouble.
He wasn't sure what accounted for their improved behavior, he thought as he headed to the parking garage. Whatever it was, though, he would have to congratulate them on the change.
****
END