by Joliemoi

Category: SRR
Rating: PG 13, I guess
Summary: none, I don't wanna spoil the fun ;-) Author: Joliemoi
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, except for Cynthia and Christy. Agents Reyes, Dogget, Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, and 1013, and FOX, and whomever else has legal rights to them.


I close the wooden front door behind me, glad to escape the summer heat outside. It's Saturday morning, fairly early actually, but obviously not too early for some people to give me a call. My breath is heavy and I feel sweaty, the eight mile run has left me unusually tired today. Leaning against the door frame I contemplate answering the phone. Its ringing seems to grow louder, more urgent the more I try to block it out. I glance at the clock next to the full-length mirror in the hallway. 8.30 a.m. God, I hope it's not John, we had been out of town all week and only got back yesterday. I was looking forward to spending a weekend at home, in my bed, on my couch, maybe finishing the book I've been carrying around for the last few months. What was I thinking when I took this job?

A faint image of Dana's big blue eyes flashes before my own and I suddenly remember.

Just when I decide to give in and answer the damn phone the ringing stops. I sigh and lean back against the wooden frame, staring at my own reflection in the mirror. The tiny black running shorts I'm wearing barely cover my butt and the black shirt used to hang on me like a rag. That was way back in college. Now it hugs my every curve, even the outline of my sports bra is visible. I think I need to buy new workout clothes, with these being the only ones that survived Cynthia.

She was the second woman I ever loved and I can still feel her hands on my thighs, my ass, pulling on my shirt. The memories make me shiver. Cynthia loved my just-been-running-attire, she would wait for me to come home, open the door for me and tear my clothes off, barely leaving me time to actually close the door behind me. Then she would devour me right there on the floor. A lot of my clothes were ruined that way, not that I would have complained. I liked what she did to me, liked the ferocity of her love and desire for me. I haven't felt this needed by another person since and I miss the feeling. If only she hadn't been as possessive, hadn't tried to take over my life completely until I finally couldn't take it anymore.

I think we were both equally shocked by my outburst, at least that would explain why she followed me into the bathroom and I let her hop in the shower with me. We held each other, one clinging to the other, afraid to let go. Our skin ached from the hot water streaming down our bodies, but I feared that turning off the water the foggy cloud of steam that had formed around us would dissipate and in turn inevitably destroy this last thread that held us together.

John was incredibly supportive during that time. When I turned up at his door that night, my face tearstained, he asked no questions but simply wrapped me in his arms. I collapsed into his embrace and let go. He held me until my sobbing and trembling was gradually overtaken by a profound exhaustion and I fell asleep on his couch, still wrapped in his arms. He let me stay at his apartment until I had found a place of my own. I guess our relationship was kind of like Mulder's and Dana's, without the sexual aspect, of course. Not that I know much about that, but I'm not deaf. Bureau talk might not always be reliable, but whenever a rumour doesn't seem to wanna die there's usually some kind of truth to it. Besides, Dana has a son to prove it. But John had just come out of a marriage and tried to get through the divorce, and me, I had already thought I would never love anyone ever again after Christy, and now that Cynthia and I had broken up I swore off women for good. And subsequently fell for Brad. Go, me!

The phone rings again, bringing me back to reality. I decide to let the answering machine get it and push the small button to turn it on, then head towards the bathroom. My body aches for a hot shower. As I close the door I think I can make out Dana's voice.

Maybe I'll just opt for a cold shower instead.

"Hey Monica, it's me, Dana. I was just wondering if you.if you could.oh well, just give me a call when you get this, alright? I'm home, so you'll reach me there. Thanks, bye."

Damn, what was that?

Flumping back on the couch I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. I hope I didn't wake her. Jesus, Dana, it's 8.30 am on a Saturday, of course you've woken her. Shushing the voice in my head obviously won't work for me today. What the hell was I thinking anyway? Why couldn't I wait until a more civilized hour, maybe around noon or something. This is not an emergency, after all. Well, it is to me, but I don't think I want her to know that. I've held back for so long, a few more hours won't make a difference now anyway, will they?

Maybe she didn't wake up, though and that's why her machine took the call. She might still be in bed, sleeping peacefully, not knowing of what I'm about to reveal to her today. Of course there's a small chance that my call did indeed wake her and she might just have been too sleepy to get out of bed and get the phone. Maybe she doesn't have the phone right next to her on the bedside table as I do, which came in handy during the years I worked with Mulder. Maybe she sleeps naked. I never did, not after waking up once only to find Mulder in my bedroom. It was the middle of the night, yet he had nothing better to do than to drag me with him on a case. How thoughtful not to have called first but instead waking me up in person.

I smile at the memory, it is funny in retrospect. Needless to say I was less than amused back then. So no more sleeping naked for me.

But Monica, who knows. I don't think John would just walk into her apartment without knocking first, so she might not be as paranoid as I am. Knowing Monica though, she would probably do so either way.

Deep down there's a feeling inside of me that she can be a tease if she wants to be. And ever since Monday I've been wondering if she wants to be one with me.

John had called me in to take a look at some case files, the autopsy reports being his main interest. He hadn't said what exactly was bothering him, but something obviously didn't seem quite right and I was more than happy for any excuse to see Monica.

When I got to the office that afternoon I found her alone, sitting behind the desk looking gorgeously sexy in her red suit and tight fitting black blouse.

I softly cleared my throat to let her know I was there and she quickly stood greeting me with a warm smile and a soft "Hi, Dana."

My skin immediately reacted to the sound of her voice and I felt a hot rush taking over my body. She walked around the desk to my side, missing the effect her presence had on me.

"You're here for the autopsy reports, right?"

Not waiting for my response she grabbed a stack of files from the top of the cabinet and began browsing through them until she had found what she was looking for. I took a step closer to her, our shoulders now barely touching.

"There you go." She handed me the files in question. "John didn't tell me what exactly he was looking for, only that there's something peculiar about the x-rays." She let her voice trail off, her gaze fixed on mine.

I held my breath, afraid I might lose control over my body. Afraid I might leap forward and kiss her.

We stood like that for several seconds until Monica finally broke away. A faint smile was playing around her lips, almost undetectable, but it was definitely there. I watched as she turned around to put the remaining files out of her hands and back on top of the cabinet.

"Where is John, anyway?" I asked, releasing the breath I had still held in my lungs and quickly opened the first folder, not bothering with reading the report but skipping directly ahead to the x-rays. Since it was too dark to make out anything from where I was standing I walked over to the small window and held the chart up against the few rays of sunlight that came trickling in through the dusty glass.

"He said he wanted to get coffee."

Without turning my head I looked at her. She was standing at the desk, her back facing me. One hand was propped up on the desktop, appearing to be steadying her, the other one rested on her waist. With her head slightly bent down she looked as if she was going to faint. I squinted at her, unsure of what to do.

"Monica?" I asked, " everything okay?"

She straightened her back then took a deep breath and turned around to face me.

"Yeah, yes, I'm fine." Her eyes looked unsure.

I nodded, only now realizing I still held up the chart. There was a strange shadow on what appeared to be the left lobe of the lung and when I squinted to take a more thorough look I felt Monica coming up behind me. We both looked at the x-ray in my hand and I wondered whether she would notice the black spot, too. She obviously didn't for when I finally gave in to the increasing ache in my arm and let it drop down to my side I could sense her confusion.

The sunlight painted small patterns of shade and light on top of the folder, making it impossible to read the descriptions. I put the chart back in and glanced down at the written report.

Monica took a step closer towards me, her front almost touching my back.

"What is it?" Her breath was hot against my neck.

"A shadow", I replied, "there's a small shadow on the x-ray."

The written report didn't mention one, which indeed struck me as strange. I picked up a second chart and lifted it up against the light, this time slightly bending my back until our bodies touched. I had expected her to pull away but she didn't move, didn't offer me the space I didn't want but pretended to need.

There was nothing unusual on that second x-ray, though. I sighed and leaned back even further, pretending to take a closer look at the chart. But my eyes were closed, my mind lost in the sensation of her breasts being pressed up against my shoulder-blades. A small part of me crumpled that day, succumbed to the heat of her body radiating through me, filling me up completely.

"Hey there, you're early, Agent Scully!" John's voice shook me from my numbness. Monica and I spun around in unison.

"I'm glad you came by but I'm afraid this case gotta wait until we get back."

"Get back?" Monica sounded tired. Maybe she had already begun to hate this job.

"AD Kersh just told me we had to fly up north on a case that warrants our special skills." He emphasized the last two words, letting them roll off his tongue slowly.

I knew how he felt.

Monica made a sound I couldn't quite decipher but guessed it to be of equal annoyance. John cocked an eyebrow and looked at the two of us, this time actually seeing what was right in front of him. I was suddenly very aware of standing so closely yet awkwardly behind Monica and drew away. I saw the look he shot her, saw the unasked question on his lips that wasn't meant for me to see. She brushed a stray of errant hair away and held his gaze. Her eyes seemed to plead with his. I couldn't help but hold my breath

She didn't break away this time, instead it was John who broke contact and walked over to the desk. Both of us followed his movements with our eyes, waiting for him to say something. Anything. He looked at us again, unable to contain a smile. I glanced back at Monica and saw the faint smile that was playing across the corners of her mouth. There were little sparks in her eyes where the rays of sunlight touched them. It was in that moment that I decided to do something. I would not hold back any longer, I couldn't.

Here I am now, sitting in my living-room waiting for her to call me back. I still wonder what might have happened if John hadn't come back that soon. Maybe I wouldn't be sitting here clutching a pillow in my hands and being afraid she might turn me down.

The noise of the telephone disrupts the silence and I pick up the receiver, already knowing who will be on the other end.

"Hey, it's me, what's up?" She sounds energetic and I envy her for it. These days I'm lucky if I can stay awake during my classes.

"Monica, hi. I hope I didn't wake you earlier, I was just, I."

She saves me. "No, you didn't actually. I was out running and took a shower afterwards, that's why I didn't pick up the phone."

She shouldn't have mentioned the shower, now I have an image of her naked wet body indelibly imprinted on my mind.

"Oh, okay, glad to hear that." It takes all of my willpower and determination to focus my thoughts on what it was I had actually called her for.

"Listen, do you have any plans for today, because if you do, that's fine, it's nothing important, really, I was just thinking that maybe we could, you know, get together and talk a little." My voice cracks on that last bit and I can feel my heart beating in my throat. It's absolutely ridiculous that a grown woman like me is so seemingly effortlessly reduced to a rambling mess, but Monica has had that effect on me since the first time I met her. The first time I looked into those dark chocolate eyes of hers I was doomed. Lately just hearing her voice has been enough to send me over the edge.

"I'd love to, Dana. And no, I don't have any plans, apart from unwinding a bit. Had a rough week, you know." This time I detect a hint of exhaustion in her voice.

I chuckle. "Tell me about it."

"Right." She snorts, too. "Forgot who I was talking to."

I imagine her smile, her perfect lips curled up in the softest way possible, her eyes radiating with warmth. I miss those eyes even though it has only been five days since I've last seen her.

"Anyway, talking sounds great, I could really use some female company tonight. Especially after spending the last couple days up north with John. It does get kinda lonely playing in the boys' club all the time, I'm sure you know what I mean." She sighs.

"Oh yes, I do, believe me. And I could really use some adult company, living with a baby isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know. The conversations are pretty one-sided." I smile at my own joke and I can hear her smiling, too.

"Great, so you wanna come over here or should I drop by your place?"

I quickly contemplate my options.

"I'd like to come over to your apartment." If things go wrong I'll at least be able to get out fast. "How about I'll get some take-out. Do you like Chinese?"

" Yeah, I love it, sounds great. What time d'you wanna come?"

"I'll drop William off at 5, it shouldn't take me much longer than 20 minutes from my mom's place, so I'd say 5.30. Is that okay?"

"Yes, it is. Think you'll find your way over here or should I give you directions?"

"No, I'll be fine, I once dropped John off after work, remember? Besides, an old friend of mine used to live in that area, so I know my way around."

"Well, okay, see you at 5.30 then. Bye, Dana."

I put down the receiver, marvelling at my courage to have actually gone through with my plan.

The old man and his dog cross the street in the same spot they always do, but I don't see them today. I don't see anything of this lively neighbourhood I've come to love. My eyes are looking out through the glass but my gaze is turned inward, observing the inner turmoil Dana Scully's call has ignited inside of my body.

Just last week all had been right with the world, but that was before John told me to "figure things out", before Monday and my trying out just how far Dana was willing to go. If only he hadn't said those things to me, hadn't made me wonder if there was indeed a possibility for me and Dana.

I curse myself for leaving the last pack of cigarettes out in the car, five floors down from where I'm standing at the window sill.

She said she wanted to talk. I'm not sure I do. I don't trust myself anymore, not alone with her in my apartment. Too many possibilities for me to act on my instincts and inevitably scare her away.

But I want to believe in what John said that day.

We were down in the office, it had gotten late and I told John to go on home, that I would finish up the paper work. He smiled at me, one of those smiles only John can give you and I felt my mouth curling up despite of myself. I was awfully tired, but he has this amazing ability to make everything okay, somehow. I guess that's what friends do, cheering each other up and everything. And he always succeeds at that. With me, at least.

"Monica," he said, "now don't be so hard on yourself. My mom always said you can't blind yourself from love, that it'll find ya no matter how hard you're tryin' to look the other way."

I almost laughed out loud. He couldn't be serious, could he? This wasn't the John Dogget I knew.

"Just because I've sworn off love doesn't mean you have to get all philosophical on me," I tried to sound aggravated. It had been a hell of a week and I was too tired to get into any kind of deep soulful talk, especially with John. I didn't even know he would think about these things, let alone say them out loud. I tried to count the years we had been friends but couldn't make my brain work. Maybe finishing up the paperwork wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Monica, I actually believe in what I just said." He did seem to be sincere. "Ya know, my mom's never been wrong," he added giving me a half-smile. Then he took his jacket off the rack and turned to the door.

"John, you don't believe in anything you haven't seen with your own two eyes. That changed now?"

He turned back around, "Nope."

The way he looked straight at me had something mysterious about it, something that made me uneasy. I shifted slightly in the chair, causing it to squeak a little, and cocked an eyebrow at him, something I had picked up from Dana. I had found it worked amazingly well for me, too.

"Now what's that supposed to mean?" I didn't like the direction this was going, it felt too much like playing games. John never played games.

"Monica," he sighed, obviously uncomfortable with my probing questions, "it's not supposed to mean anything."

But I was far from letting him go. After all I hadn't started with these little insinuations, he had gotten himself into this mess. John must have sensed that I wouldn't let him off the hock until I had gotten a more satisfying answer.

"Look, Monica, I'd just like for you to figure this one out yourself, alright? I don't wanna get into the middle of anything here."

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"John, stop playing games with me. It's almost 6 p.m. on a Friday, I won't get home for at least another hour, so please let's just get it over with!" I begged him, my voice beginning to sound whiny. I hate it when I start doing that, but I was too exhausted and frankly way too confused to care.

He shot me another strange look, one that I couldn't quite make sense of, either. God, I thought we two knew each other, how come I didn't know he had those kind of looks up his sleeve?


I quickly decided I'd heard my name once too often that night.

"John.," I mocked him.

He smiled. Again. He's a good tease, I knew that.

"Agent Reyes," he almost chocked laughing at his own choice of words, "what I'm trying to say is that..I... I think Agent.," he swallowed, "well, I think Agent Scully's got a thing for you."

And with that he was out the door, the office, the basement, leaving me behind with my mouth gaping open struggling for air.

I wonder if he was right.

The smell of the Chinese take-out envelops me as I climb the stairs to Monica's apartment. It's an old building, the wooden staircase squeaks under my weight and the banister is partially broken. I try to keep my steps near the wall where the wood seems less rotten.

When I reach the top I find her door partially open. She must have heard me coming up. There's soft music playing in the background and I smile because for some reason I expected whale songs filling her home. Then I open the door and see her. She is standing at the window, her side facing me// facing me sideways. I can't help but stare at her body, the chocolate brown shirt and tight black pants leaving little to the imagination.

Her legs are long and lean. That's what I used to love about Mulder, his long lean body.

For a moment I wonder if that's why I have fallen for Monica, because she reminds me of him. When I look at her is it Mulder that I see?

I glance down, trying to hide my confusion. When I look up again, Monica is in front of me, her gaze on mine. Her dark eyes dart right through me, penetrating my soul and spilling its contents on the vast plains that were once inhabited by my brain. Now it's all turned into mush.

Mulder is nowhere to be seen.

"What can I get you to drink?" I call out from behind the counter, putting the food I took from Dana on top of it.

"What are my choices?" Dana's voice sounds muffled and when I turn around I see her standing in the back of the apartment, in front of my favourite photograph.

"You like it?" I call out.

She spins around and I can see that there's a pink flush spread over her cheeks. For a split second I wonder whether I've actually managed to embarrass her, but Dana soon recovers and gives me a wide smile.

"Yeah, I love the colors. Where did you find it?"

I cock an eyebrow at the question, I didn't know she was into art. Yet another thing to add to my mental list of reasons why I love this woman. Maybe love isn't the right word, infatuation might be more fitting. I push an errant strand of hair out of my face and back behind my ear. Either way, the fact that Dana Scully is actually standing in my living room, that she chose me to keep her company tonight, is exhilarating. I don't think I want her to leave, not tonight, not ever. If only I could come up with a reason that does not involve me telling her that I'm crazy about her.

"I bought it about 2 years ago, at one of the markets in New Orleans. I used to get up really early and wander those markets. I found all kinds of great stuff, my place was crammed with things, but I had to throw out a lot when I moved up here."

"Did you throw them away?" Dana actually sounds worried.

"No, I gave most of the stuff to Annie, my best friend. She wanted that picture, too, but I managed to save it from her. "

I wink at Dana and she chuckles. I love how her entire face lights up when she laughs. Her big blue eyes roam my face, momentarily lingering on my lips. Her own bottom lip is slightly quivering and only then do I realize that my eyes have dropped down to her lips as well. When she finally raises her head and our eyes lock the blue of her gaze is so intense I think I might melt right on the spot. Reluctantly I force myself to look away, up over her head towards the photograph she was admiring only minutes ago.

The two women, sharing a kiss so light and brief in the midst of the big city rush hour, seem oblivious to their surroundings. I wonder what Dana would do if I bent down and kissed her. When I look at her again I think I detect a hint of fear in her eyes, in the way she looks at me. Fear and something else. Hidden desire, maybe. Or maybe I'm just making things up, maybe I read too much into this. Usually I'm pretty good when it comes to trusting my instincts, though, and I doubt that I'm wrong this time. Dana Scully might have a reputation for being uptight and aloof, but she's not altogether impossible to read.

I finally back away a little, hoping the added space between us will keep me from doing anything foolish. I wouldn't want to throw myself at her like some stupid teenager, wouldn't want her to close down again now that she has finally opened up. There is no telling where this will lead, how far she's willing to go, how far she will allow herself to go. I can't risk scaring her away.

She follows my movement, all the while keeping her eyes locked with mine. I take another step back, desperately trying to keep up the distance between us but inevitably finding myself trapped between the wall and her body. When she pulls me close and her lips touch mine my limbs fail to react. I stand motionless, basking in the sensation of the kiss but unable to reciprocate.

Dana finally pulls away, leaving behind a void of cold air where her body touched mine. She searches my eyes and then I see it. Somewhere in those deep blue eyes there is her soul, spread wide open, inviting me in. That's all I needed so I grab her and press her to me. Our lips touch again, her tongue cautiously asking for permission. My lips part on their own volition and I let her in, allowing our bodies to do what our souls have already done. To become one.


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