Title: Montana?
Author: Eeyore
E-mail: Thud_Onkey@hotmail.com
Category: story, slash (for Scully's masturbatory musings)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: This is the story around "Rub," for those who wondered what Scully was doing in Montana. It's barely slash at all, except for Scully's thoughts and the connection to "Rub"
Feedback: may result in your canonization.
Many thanks to Dana Starbuck for beta-reading. Any mistakes you find were clearly added after she last saw this.

by eeyore.

Hoover Building -- Tuesday 6:10 p.m.

"He's sending us _where_?" Scully's disbelief was unmistakable.

"Montague, Montana," Mulder repeated. "I think he's really pissed off this time."

"Mulder, we have yet to see AD Kersh when he wasn't pissed off. I assume we're on shit duty again?" Scully tried to feel resigned, but couldn't quite get past the unfairness of another two weeks of checking up on large fertilizer shipments.

"No, actually this one shouldn't be as bad. If I didn't know better, I'd say Kersh was actually letting us slip back into our old territory."

Scully snorted. "At this point I'd even be happy about a fluke-man. The whole thing just reeks of punishment, though. Surely there are field agents closer than we are to Montague -- wherever the heck that is."

"It's in north-central Montana," Mulder replied as though he hadn't just looked it up on the map. "It'll serve as a base of operations for us, but our investigations will take us in a number of different directions."

"What exactly are we investigating?" inquired Scully in the voice of someone who wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Cow mutilations," came the deadpan reply. "Don't forget to pack your boots."


Montague, Montana -- 14 hours later

"This can't be real," moaned Scully as Mulder drove the rental car into Montague. "We've time warped back into the '70s, haven't we?"

"Why Agent Scully. I wasn't aware that you believed in time-travel. Do you follow the pre-destination line, or are you also a believer in alternate futures?" Mulder completely ignored her assessment of the town.

Scully barely restrained herself from sticking her tongue out as she glared at both Mulder and Montague. Mulder signaled a turn, and pulled the car into the driveway of Romeo's Hide-away, which appeared to be the only accommodation along the meager main street. With a completely straight face he looked at Scully and said, "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks. It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. . ."

Scully grimaced, and replied "c'mon Romeo. Let's get your Shakespeare inside and unpacked."

They climbed out and began the procedure of checking in and getting ready for work. In less than a half hour they were back on the street, looking for the sheriff's department. It didn't take long to find.

Montague's main street consisted of no more than two blocks of commercial buildings, and all three side streets were obviously residential. Apart from the motel, a gas station, "Mel's" Diner -- with no Alice in sight, and a grocery store, only three buildings sported flags. Two of those turned out to be liquor stores, leaving only one possibility. "Municipality of Montague" was marked on the faded sign, along with "town offices" and "Sheriff's Department."

When they walked into the building, every head in the sheriff's office came up to look. Mulder got a quick once-over from each of them and then was dismissed. Scully found herself being eyed far too closely by three men, and smiled at by the lone woman. She nodded at the woman and said pointedly, "My name is Special Agent Scully, and this is my partner Agent Mulder. We're looking for Sheriff Hawkins."

One of the men managed to tear his eyes off Scully's breasts for long enough to reply "that'd be me." He then very obviously dismissed Scully from consideration and addressed Mulder. "I'm glad you could make it so fast. We've got a real problem on our hands, and we appreciate your help. If you step back here I'll show you what I've got." He nodded toward his office, and then addressed the woman seated in the office. "Jane, if you'd help Miss Scully get some coffee, Agent Mulder and I can get started." With that the sheriff gestured Mulder towards a door at the back of the office. Mulder went, but with an uncertain look at Scully.

As they departed, Jane stood up, irritation plain on her face. It was clear from her attire that she was not a secretary, but a deputy. She wore the same black uniform as the sheriff and one of the other men in the room, although Scully noticed that hers was the only one that didn't look hopelessly wrinkled. As Scully took in that detail, Jane smiled and extended her hand to the agent.

"Agent Scully," she said in an almost gravelly voice, "I'm Deputy Jane Collins. I'd apologize for the sheriff, but I refuse to take responsibility for him. He's still not quite over the fact that women are allowed to vote." She smiled slightly. "Can I offer you some coffee?"

Scully nodded, hoping that coffee would take the edge off both the early morning flight and her irritation with the sheriff's sexism. She looked up at the deputy, resigning herself to being the shortest person on the team. Jane Collins was a good four inches taller than Scully in heels, which made her about 5'8". Her uniform looked a lot more comfortable than Scully's suit, too, and very professional. It was black on black, and emphasized both the deputy's height and curves. With the detached consideration that she gave both colleagues and suspects, she estimated Jane at about 35-40, and about 170 lbs. She looked strong, but not in a muscle-bound way, but rather a comfortable one. Her blonde hair was long enough to curl slightly as it touched her collar, but was cut in a utilitarian way that went along with her lack of makeup. She wasn't what Scully would call pretty, but she looked like a friendly and open person. She made Scully feel a bit overdone for the Montana morning, but impressed the agent as looking competent. Scully hoped that the initial assessment was right.

When they reached the coffee machine, Deputy Collins reached down two mugs and filled them with coffee. She pushed one toward Scully, and kept the other, asking how Mulder liked his. Scully told her, but in the same breath added, "he's perfectly capable of making his own, though. Don't feel obliged to do it."

The deputy smiled. "I don't," she said. "If I bring in a cup of coffee, the sheriff won't notice if I stay. It's how I get most of my briefings." Scully laughed and shook her head, prompting the other woman to add, "hey, whatever works."

"Deputy Collins. . ." Scully started, as she picked up her coffee.

The deputy interrupted, "please call me Jane. If the cave-men do it, you're certainly welcome to." Jane's smile was unforced, and lit up her face in a way that was infectious. Scully was surprised to discover that she was smiling back.

"All right," she said. "You can either call me Dana or Scully. My partner always sticks with the latter." She paused, then asked, "will the sexism level drop once we start work or should I brace myself for a long couple of weeks?"

"I'm sorry to say that they're pretty tame today. I usually have to fight for anything except secretary duty." Jane shrugged as if to say that it was no big thing.

The taut line of Scully's mouth suggested that it was. "Shall we go and see what the big boys are doing?" she inquired tartly.


". . . so we're not sure of the reason, although we can speculate, and the pranks, or incidents, or whatever they are seem to be escalating." Mulder nodded his reply. "Oh, good, your coffee." the sheriff continued as Jane and Scully walked in. He twitched his head, either as reply or dismissal, and continued his monologue as Jane set Mulder's coffee in front of him. "We aren't sure when these mutilations take place, except that the cows are fine at bedtime, and when the ranchers check first thing in the morning they find the remains."

Mulder nodded again and asked, "are the cows always dead? None of these mutilations have been on cows left to live?"

Jane answered his question, "actually, we've been hearing about living cattle with some marks and cuts, as well as some paint on them. Not all. . ."

The sheriff cut her off. "Now Jane, you know we decided those stories weren't related to the killings. Agent Mulder, all of the cattle were left dead in the fields."

"What about. . ." Mulder gestured at Jane. As she opened her mouth to speak again, the sheriff continued.

"No, my _deputy_," he emphasized the word with no little irony, "gets some strange ideas sometimes. She takes the locals just a little too seriously, and doesn't always do the legwork." He smiled condescendingly at Jane. She ignored him, and he went on to detail the rest of his case.

After another half-hour of being ignored, Scully was thinking of excuses to leave. She'd watched the sheriff long enough to determine that he thought himself better than the local residents, that he had a mid-western city accent, that he had settled for a job he thought beneath him, and that he was sloppy about details. She debated, briefly, whether his black hair and crisp features made him attractive, but couldn't make it past the condescending manner to decide. Finally, the sheriff drew to a halt. He looked briefly at Scully and Jane and nodded at Mulder.

"That about wraps it up from our end. I know you'll want to see the sites and the evidence, so I'll loan Jane here to you as a driver. Most of the ranchers have kept the evidence at their own spreads, 'cause we don't have much room for cadavers that big in our morgue."

"You have a morgue?" Scully's voice rose in disbelief. It was hard to imagine a town this small having a convenience store, let alone pathology facilities.

"Nothing for you to worry about, miss" the sheriff replied to his assumptions rather than Scully's actual question. "There are no bodies here, and nothing's going to crawl out of it to harm you."

The putdown was obvious enough that even Mulder flinched. Then he stood and stepped back toward the wall, not wanting to get in Scully's line of fire. She gazed at the sheriff above crossed arms. Rather than going for the jugular, as Mulder obviously expected, she asked in a restrained voice, "do you have a pathologist to go with that morgue?"

The sheriff snorted. "'Course not. A place this small can barely keep a doctor for living bodies. That's him out in the office by the way, David Brady. He signs off on any corpses we might happen to have. We don't need a pathologist."

"You do now," Scully replied evenly. "You've got forensic evidence gathered in freezers in every direction," Scully looked at the two dozen or more pins sticking out of the county map on the wall, "and no decent evidence. Examining the bodies may be your best shot."

"Well thank you Quincy," the sheriff sneered. "That's why I requested an evidence team from you folks. Apparently we were important enough to rate an agent and his girlfriend, but not important enough to get what we asked for."

The 'girlfriend' was clearly more than enough for Scully. "I can personally assure you, Sheriff Hawkins," Scully ground out, "that you will get precisely what you asked for."

Before she could go on to rub her credentials in her face, the male deputy stuck his head into the room. "Sheriff," he said excitedly. "Tommy Viton was just on the phone. His ranch got hit again."

As Mulder murmured "saved by the bell," the sheriff muttered "shit" under his breath, then said, "Jane, take these folks out to the Viton place to have a look." He looked at Scully one more time, then said to her breasts, "now be careful miss. If you're gonna be sick, make sure not to do it on the evidence."

By that point, Scully was too angry to speak. She just glared at him. When Jane gestured, she silently followed the deputy and Mulder out the door.


Somehow they all managed to get into Jane's squad car and start off toward the Viton ranch before Scully completely lost it. Predictably, it was Mulder who made the comment that started the avalanche.

"So, Scully," he said with mock-innocence. "Did you bring along your airsick bag for when you see the blood and guts and ick?"

As Jane glanced at Scully, looking for the joke, Scully started in. "I cannot believe that in 1998 someone in a position of authority can get away with being so demeaning toward women. I mean, it's bad enough that every comment was directed at my breasts, but 'girlfriend?' No offense, Mulder, but even if by some bizarre twist of fate I would date you, I sure as hell wouldn't go to Montague, Montana without a paycheck. And to assume that I'm incapable of functioning at the sight of entrails. For christ's sake."

Both Jane and Mulder let her rant for a few minutes uninterrupted, then Jane took advantage of a pause for breath to ask "I take it you have some sort of forensic experience, Agent Scully?"

The civilized question began the process of calming Scully's irritation. She nodded, and took another deep breath. Mulder answered for her, "Agent Scully is a medical doctor who has taught forensic pathology at Quantico. She's dissected more corpses than I care to think about, as well as examined evidence more bizarre than the average person can begin to imagine."

Jane smiled a thanks at Mulder in the rear-view mirror, and then looked at Scully with a smirk. "I can hardly wait to see how that one goes over with the sheriff and Doc. Brady. I'll bet they'll have kittens. Can I tell them?"

"I don't know," Mulder said. "I think we should plot out the most embarrassing way possible to reveal the information. More fun that way."

Scully turned in her seat to look at him. "You know, Mulder, I can tell how irritated I am by the fact that I'm actually considering your idea."

His "Scully, I'm wounded" got a snort as she faced the road again. He figured that he'd better get back on track, though, and said to Jane, "Deputy Collins, you were saying something in the office about living victims. Could I get you to elaborate on that?"

"You sure you want to listen, Mulder? After all I'm prone to strange ideas. . ."

"Trust me," was Mulder's reply, delivered with a quirk of his eyebrow at the phrase. "The stranger your ideas, the better we'll get along."

Mulder thoughtfully paused to allow Scully's "ain't that the truth" before he continued.

The rest of the drive was taken up by a discussion of Jane's theory that the minor mutilations were related to the cow killings, and the sheriff's belief that they were not. By the time the three reached the ranch, Mulder was firmly in favor of Jane's hypothesis and commended her for it, saying "that's the first thorough police work I've heard about since we hit town."


Fifteen minutes later, the three were standing over the slightly rotting corpse of a very dead cow with Tommy Viton, who was saying "it don't look to me like anything is missing, but they certainly stirred things up a bit in there. It's different from the other one of mine they got. That one just had some hacks and slashes and a cut throat."

Scully nodded at him and squatted down to have a better look at the exposed entrails. Without looking up she asked, "do you think it was the same person or people?"

"Yeah, I do," he said, shifting uncomfortably, "but I couldn't tell you why exactly. It's just a kind of gut feeling."

At that, Scully looked up sharply, expecting a joke, but Viton's bland features indicated no such thing. Mulder was nodding approvingly, and he began to engage the rancher on the 'gut feeling.' Scully continued to consider the dead cow, and Jane continued to consider Scully, until Scully looked up again. Jane quickly focused on something else.

"Excuse me Mr. Viton," Scully said politely. "Would you happen to have a cooler I could borrow, and maybe a meat saw? I'll need to take some of Daisy here back to Montague for a closer look."

"No problem, Miz Scully, and please call me Tommy. My dad is the only Mr. Viton I know." He trotted off in the direction of the barn for the required tools.

Scully stood up slowly, and checked to make sure she wasn't about to step on any cow patties as she walked back toward Mulder and Jane. "I can't see anything in particular," she said, "but whoever it was clearly used a sharp blade. I'll be able to tell fairly soon after I start the lab work whether the cow was poisoned or drugged, and hopefully I'll pick up some other details from the other victim here."

"Other victims, actually," said Mulder. "Apparently Tommy agrees with Deputy Collins about the marks on living cows. He's got several with cuts and one with paint markings, and he was smart enough to leave the paint alone so that we could see it in situ."

Mulder caught the other two up on what Tommy had been saying, and they all watched the rancher move back toward the group with a saw and a good-sized picnic cooler. When he arrived, he placed the cooler on the ground next to the dead cow and handed the saw to Scully, saying "I'm guessing you'll want to do your own cutting, but if you want a hand, or help finding joints or anything, let me know."

He was clearly trying not to step on her toes, and his offer of professional courtesy was only the second Scully had heard that day, so she responded positively. "Actually, I know next to nothing about cow anatomy. If I tell you what I need, will you help me locate the necessary organs?"

He nodded approval, and the two bent over their task. As they did so, Mulder and Jane watched from a safe distance, with Mulder quipping, "I'd hate to be hit by any stray entrails."

Scully looked up long enough to say, "I can save you a liver for dinner if you want Mulder" before going back to her task.

Jane laughed as Mulder mock-shuddered, then the two stood quietly and watched Scully and Viton work. After a while, Jane started asking Mulder about his partner: "Scully seems very competent. Does she get a lot of garbage like she did at the Sheriff's office?"

Mulder shook his head. "Generally she's treated like a professional, but there's an awful lot of assumptions about us being a couple."

Given that opening, Jane had to ask "are you?"

Mulder shook his head. "Nope." He shrugged. "We've never even really discussed it. We just stay on professional ground together. Besides, we're usually both too busy for more of a social life than pizza and movies."

Jane nodded, and turned to more neutral topics, not wanting Mulder to be suspicious of her interest. She found Scully to be an extremely attractive woman, and watching her calm, thorough competence at her job was starting to make Jane a little too warm. While Jane tried to get a grip on unprofessional musing, Tommy and Scully stood up.

"Mulder," she called as she turned towards he and Jane. "Tommy wants us to take a look at the cows that are still alive, and he's got some more evidence to send with us to Montague. We might as well do all of that on one trip."

With that, Tommy picked up the now-heavy cooler, and all four of them headed back to where the police car was parked.

Three hours later, the car packed with four coolers of evidence, the three headed back to Montague. As they pulled in behind the building housing the sheriff's department, Scully braced herself for more aggravation from the men inside. Instead of going to the sheriff's office, though, Jane led them directly to the morgue, depositing her share of the evidence on a counter in the empty room.

Scully barely contained a sigh of relief when they entered the morgue. "Thanks for the back-door route, Jane," she said gratefully, stepping up next to the taller woman. "I really didn't want to deal with the neanderthals again."

Jane's proximity alert bells went off as she nodded a reply to Scully. *This is not good* she worried. *I do _not _ need to get fixated on a straight woman.* Even as she thought it, though, she took in how good Scully smelled, and how nice it was to have someone unthreatening stand that close.

Almost as if she had picked up Jane's stray thoughts, Scully stepped back out of Jane's personal space. She looked a little flustered for some reason, and Jane made an effort to make her less uneasy.

She looked at Scully and smiled faintly. "In my estimation the least irritating way to proceed would be for you to just start in on the work. Someone will eventually realize that you're the pathologist, but at least that way you won't be the one to listen to what they have to say about it."

Scully nodded agreement. "Much as I'd like to rub your Sheriff's nose in some of these entrails, you're right. Not only will it save me some hostility, but I'll be able to get right on with the work."

She nodded at Mulder to set his cooler down next to hers and Jane's and continued "I'll be able to find what I need here, so you two can go have a look at the next sites. Mulder," she looked at him carefully, "make sure to take the photos I need of the wounds and of any more paint markings. I don't want to be here any longer than we have to."

Promising to be good, Mulder left the morgue to get the last cooler from the car. Jane prepared to leave too, but hesitated at the last minute. She turned back to Scully and said, "the guys will be useless if you ask them about equipment or for help. If you need anything, come and find me or give me a call. Okay?" At Scully's nod, she continued "do you want me to bring you some lunch?"

At that, Scully brightened slightly. *Yes. She'll have to come back with the lunch* was Scully's first thought. It was rapidly followed by *no shit, Sherlock* and then the more pertinent *why do you care whether she comes back in or not?* Scully had the feeling she didn't want to look at the answer to that question too closely, and passed the thought off as a desire to interact with someone civilized.

Once they agreed on the lunch menu, Jane left, and Scully began the work of locating evidence among four coolers of beef. As she started, she was surprised to find herself thinking of Jane. *I'm looking forward to seeing her for a week or two. That's a good feeling.* This time, Scully didn't question why she was thinking that. It had to be professional respect.


Thursday 9:30 p.m.

Scully tried in vain to stretch the kinks out of her shoulders and upper back. After two and a half days dissecting beef and running meticulous tests on it, she felt more like a USDA inspector than a doctor, and her sense of humor had all but disappeared. As she walked from the morgue into the squad-room, she was unsurprised to find Jane there alone.

"Hey there," Scully said. "You double-shifting again?"

Jane nodded. "I get all the good ones. How's it going?"

"It's going," replied Scully. I'm seeing patterns and some evidence that will be useful to link any suspects to the mutilations, but nothing that points at any suspects yet. I'm darn sick of looking at dead cow, though."

"Why don't you head over to the diner for a burger?" Jane asked mischievously. At Scully's dirty look, she amended, "or a nice salad or something."

Scully shook her head, saying that she was too tired. "All I can handle tonight is a bath and bed. And I swear, if I have to listen to Mulder and the Playboy channel again, you'll be investigating a homicide."

Jane tried not to laugh out loud. "Ah, men," she said with mock reverence. "You could always try to set him up with one of the locals."

Scully cocked an eyebrow at Jane. "You interested?"

Jane worked hard at keeping a straight face, saying "not my type" while tightly censoring the *unlike you* that she wanted to add. There was no sense in pissing Scully off over an attraction that couldn't go anywhere.

Scully, of course, completely missed the subtext, simply saying "good choice. I don't imagine there's much to pick from around here."

Jane replied uneasily, not wanting to have this conversation. "I dunno," she said. "I guess it depends what you're looking for."

Scully's brain took an abrupt left turn, flashing on an image of 'looking for Jane.' While she was trying to figure out where the image came from, and whether she objected to it being there, Jane continued.

"After all, there is a karaoke bar two towns down. You'd be surprised at how much some of the ranchers look like Dwight Yokum!"

Scully grimaced. "Nothing like painted on jeans and a beer belly to turn a girl on." She rolled her neck carefully, trying to ease the tension, and said "well, on that note, I'm off. I can hear the bathtub calling. I'll see you tomorrow."

Jane replied in kind, and watched Scully leave. She promised herself that she would _not_ waste the next two hours of her shift thinking about Scully in the bath.


It took less than ten minutes for Scully to make it from the office to the bath. She stripped off damp clothes that smelled of formaldehyde and slid into the bath, grateful that Romeo's Hideaway provided well for its guests' comfort. She leaned her head back on the side of the tub and concentrated on relaxing.

Her concentration was rudely interrupted by the sounds of sex from the next room. Mulder. And the Playboy channel. Scully didn't even waste a thought on the possibility that there was a live woman involved. She reached for her cell phone, which was resting by the bath in case of emergency. With the week she was having, this _was_ an emergency.

"Mulder," she heard at the other end of the line.

She wasted no words. "Turn it off or I'll shoot you again."

Mulder wasn't buying. "Scully," he whined. "A guy's gotta have some fun. . ."

Neither was she. "Mulder, I am having a bath and trying to relax, and I can't do that listening to you moan at the TV."

"What's the matter, Scully? Am I turning you on?"

"Look, sunshine. I listen to what you call your sex life at nearly every motel we're in. You are the original five minute wonder. Why the hell would you expect that to turn me on. Now turn it off before I get really mad." With that Scully turned the phone off. A few seconds later, the sound from the TV went off too. She sighed with relief, put down the phone, and tried again to relax.

Of course, Mulder again made that impossible. As soon as Scully closed her eyes, she was bombarded by the mental picture of Mulder sprawled naked on his bed masturbating. Scully snapped her eyes open and sat up straight in the bath, trying to decide whether the picture was arousing, disgusting, or just funny.

"Right," she said to herself. "Definitely time to think about something else."

She pushed herself away from the image of a naked Mulder, and hoped it would stay away. Unfortunately, the image had led to a variety of others -- some of Mulder and some not -- all sexual in nature. More than one of them featured tall women in black uniforms. Apparently either her brain or her body was trying to tell her something. She considered the possibility of trying to masturbate in the bath, but ruled that out as she pictured herself, looking like a drowned rat, having as little success as usual. *Bed,* she thought. *If you get more sleep, you'll stop thinking about sex.*

More resigned than optimistic, she toweled off, and went back into the main room. Grimacing at red satin sheets -- Romeo's Hideaway was certainly predictable -- she slipped on her pyjamas and lay down on top of the bed. She couldn't help glancing up, and was faced with the image of an irritated red-head in black silk sprawled on red satin sheets reflected in the ceiling mirror. She rolled her eyes at herself, wishing that she'd packed cotton instead of the lighter silk and wishing they weren't staying in honeymoon hell. The image was just the epitome of failed romance.

*Still,* she reflected morosely, *it could be worse.* As she stared at the ceiling she smiled at herself, and raised an eyebrow at the stray thoughts that wouldn't go away. *What _would_ it be like to watch a woman come? What would I look like?* She had ignored the latter thought on the previous two nights, and the former was one she hadn't had in a while. She debated whether she was too tired to bother trying, but the ache she felt told her she'd have a much better chance of sleeping if she could make herself come.

Again watching the ceiling, she began to unbutton her top, trying to tease herself with the image. She began to imagine someone else with her, doing this for her, but Mulder's face popped immediately to mind, and she shuddered at the idea. She just did not want to go there tonight.

She continued to unbutton, then left the pyjama top on, but pulled to the sides exposing her breasts. She struggled to find a fantasy that matched the visual image, but which wouldn't annoy her. She settled for the picture of someone else's hands on her without attaching any identity to them.

The hands reached up tentatively to stroke the undersides of her breasts, and she both felt and saw her nipples harden. A little further up and the thumbs were resting against her nipples, rubbing them. A forefinger came closer, to pinch a nipple between it and the thumb, and the sensation caused her hips to lift from the bed. She gasped at the intensity of her reaction.

She watched her hands on herself, trying to disconnect them in her mind, to imagine that they belonged to someone else. *To a woman* she thought, followed by *why does that idea keep coming back?* She rationalized it by pointing out to herself that her hands were so small that they could only belong to a woman, then considered whether she wanted to pursue that line of thought. Eventually she smiled at herself in the mirror, and thought *why not.* It wasn't like she had never had fantasies including women, and it wasn't like she was _doing_ anything except to herself..

The woman ran one of her hands back down Scully's torso, leaving the other one stroking a breast. Scully watched the hand slip lower, until it rested with fingers just under the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. She couldn't believe how much it was turning her on just watching herself in the mirror. Even though it was just her hands, just her body, it looked so sexy. She made a little noise of pleasure as the hand slid a bit lower, fingers just touching the top of her pubic hair.

She moved the other hand off her breast, wanting suddenly to see herself nude, and spread out in arousal. She slipped off the bottoms, then the opened top, and lay back down. One hand found its way back up to her breast, and a finger began to circle around a tight nipple. The other brushed between her slightly spread legs. She was surprised to realize that not all of the moisture there was bath-water. "Mmm. You're so wet," she murmured to herself.

She started to stroke regularly across her labia, so that just the tip of one finger brushed against her clit on every stroke. Combined with the fingers against her nipple, and the arousal she could see on her face, it didn't take long before that wasn't enough. Soon her hips were raising off the bed with each stroke, trying to urge the fingers in further.

"Please, fuck me" Scully moaned, lost in the experience. The fingers dipped in further, nearly penetrating her with each sweep across. It wasn't enough. She arched up to trap the fingers at the next sweep, and sighed gratefully as two of them penetrated her. Rather than continuing with the stroke, they stayed in her, beginning an in-and-out motion. That was just right. She smiled encouragingly at herself in the mirror.

She continued to thrust against the fingers rhythmically, and they slid into her a bit further. *So good.* Wanting to see something different, she brought the hand away from her center and up to her mouth. She could see her wetness in the mirror, both between her legs and on her fingers. She touched the fingers to her mouth and inhaled the clean scent. She couldn't remember the last time she had tasted herself, and the unfamiliarity aroused her even more as she slid two fingers into her mouth. *Oh,* she thought. *That looks so sexy. . .*

The ache between her legs was rapidly growing worse in the absence of those fingers, so she encouraged them to go back. "Oh, yes," she said quietly. "Please. I need you inside me to make me come."

As soon as she slid two of them back inside her, she knew it wouldn't be enough. Almost grinding her teeth at the possibility of another night of frustration on the road, Scully's need overcame embarrassment, and she rolled to the side of the bed to reach into her overnight bag. She pulled out a dildo, looking at it with distaste. No matter how good it made her feel, she always thought it looked absurd. *Not,* she reflected, *that penises don't.*

She watched herself settle back on the bed, and tried to pretend that the dildo just wasn't there when it became visible in the mirror. Still, she couldn't resist watching as it slid inside of her. The sensation -- especially the coolness of the silicone -- made her gasp and clamp her muscles around it. That felt _so_ good. She spread her legs further, and began to move the dildo in and out of herself, nearly pulling it out all the way, then ramming it in as far as it could go. The sensation was shutting down the critical part of her brain, and the sensual part recognized how erotic a picture she made: pale pink and red on black silk on red satin.

As she worked the dildo in and out, the picture began to excite her nearly as much as the sensations the dildo was creating. She took her hand off her breast, and ran it down so that two of her fingers rested on either side of her clit. Without directly touching it, they worked the nerves there, making her throb. She could feel all the muscles in her vagina start to tighten as she climbed closer to orgasm.

"Yes, that's it. Make me come all over you," she muttered. Suiting action to word, she thrust harder, and ground her other hand down tight over her clit. There it was. She arched off the bed, then rolled sideways slightly on the bed, tremors going through her. The hand moving the dildo came to a halt, and the other rested still against her clit. She sighed in contentment, still shaking slightly from the force of the orgasm.

Being Scully, it didn't take long for reality to set in, though. She knew that if she looked up at the mirror again, she'd see a pathetic woman wrapped around a piece of rubber looking disheveled and desperate. She slid the dildo out of herself, setting it on the bedside table with a mental note to put it away before she let Mulder in in the morning, and wrapped her pyjama top around herself more for comfort than warmth. She flicked off the light, thinking that at least she would be able to fall asleep easily. Her last thought as she drifted off was *I wonder if Mulder's videos look that sexy?*


The next morning, having tidied up the previous evening's debris, Scully opened the door to a beaming Mulder. He handed her a cup of coffee, and pushed into her room. "Sleep well?" he asked solicitously.

Not quite trusting his solicitousness, Scully began to second guess it. *Could he have heard me? Oh, please, god, no.* He didn't pursue his opening question, though, and Scully relaxed. *Safe.*

Mulder moved right in to the business of the day. "Hawkins wants me to rattle a few cages with him this morning. He thinks we can rustle up a few suspects. Wanna tag along?"

Scully shook her head. "I don't want to have to shoot him. After the debacle when he found be in the morgue, I'm staying the hell out of his way."

Hawkins had hit the roof when he found Scully elbow deep in cow on Tuesday afternoon, and had spouted off for several minutes about women messing with tools and evidence that they had no business touching. Scully had replied "look, Hawkins, I'm a forensic pathologist. I take bodies apart for a living. I don't care if they're human or not, and right at the moment I'd happily dissect a warm one." He had gotten her point, and with a parting shot about cleaning up after herself, he had left her alone. Since then, each had avoided the other.

"O.K., then, I'll leave you to it. You'll let me know if you find anything exciting, right?" Mulder prepared to leave.

Scully nodded. "Of course, but I expect that I'll be at it for a couple more days before everything's complete."

Mulder indicated that he had heard by saying, "excellent. A weekend of debauchery in Montague, Montana. I can hardly wait."

Scully waved him off, saying "so long, Romeo. See you at dinner."

With that, she headed in to the morgue to do some more slice and dice on the evidence. That routine lasted through that day and the next, when things finally began to improve.

End Montana?

Continued in "Rub"