Subject: NEW: Interim II: Liaison (1/2) by D. Agnew
From: "Denise A. Agnew" <writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk>
Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 08:34:37 +0100


Okay to archive as long as my name remains on the story.

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.

Spoilers:  Demons.  Anything is fair game at this point but there is no
cancer, no Gesthemane in this story.

Rating:  PG-13 

Classification:  X, Heavy UST, Heavy Angst.

Summary:  Dreams link Mulder and Scully in a bizarre new way and test
the strength of their beliefs and relationship.

Author's Note:  After receiving requests for a sequel to Interim, I
decided that I might be able to stretch the EXTREME UST out a little
longer.  This is getting really difficult, but I love it. See what
happens when I don't get a dose of NEW X-Files on a weekly basis?  In
order to understand this story, please read Interim first.

Interim II: Liaison (1/2)
by Denise A. Agnew
writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk

Halloween
Friday, 5:30am

     Scully hovered between perturbation and relief.

     Mulder's call had interrupted one of the strangest dreams she'd
ever had, but she wasn't sure whether she was happy or pissed.  No...she
had to be happy.  A dream like the one she'd just had was far too wild
and far too impossible.  Better to let if fade into that black hole
where most dreams resided.  There was NO WAY on earth she'd have a
conversation with Mulder that included all that...sexual...innuendo.  So
there was no reason to interpret it.  It didn't mean a thing.

     "Scully, you there?" Mulder asked. 

     "Yeah, I'm still here."  She clutched the phone to ear and lay back
on her pillow, feeling the clouds of sleep loosen their hold on her
brain.  That's it...the more awake she became, the less likely she'd be
able to remember a dream that was disturbing.  Good. 

     "I'm sorry I woke you up.  It's just that..."

     She frowned at the disordered tone in his voice, the unusual
vulnerability in the sound.  "What's wrong?"

     "I...I'm sorry...just forget it, all right?"

     She sighed.  "Mulder, you call me at 5:30 in the morning just to
tell me you had a strange dream and you can't wait to tell me, then you
dare to say forget it?  I ought to shoot you."

     "You're usually up about now anyway."

     "You sound like a little boy trying to make excuses for having his
hand in a cookie jar."

     "You might shoot me anyway when I tell you what it's about."

     "Mulder-"

     "I'll talk to you at work this morning, okay?"

     Dial tone.

     Stunned was too light a word to describe her reaction.  She held
the receiver to her ear and stared at the ceiling.  She closed her eyes
and listened to the dial tone for several seconds before she muttered,
"Damn you, Mulder."

     The need for revenge surfaced, a thousand ideas for what she might
do barraging her brain.  Call him back.  Turn up at his apartment door
and demand answers.  Put Tabasco sauce in his morning coffee.  But how
far would she get if she pushed Mulder for answers?  She rarely...no
never got answers when he didn't want to give her answers. 

     Discouraged both by his reluctance to explain his dream, and by the
bizarre coincidence that she'd been dreaming about him when he'd called,
she hauled herself out of bed and into the shower.

*   *   *
FBI Headquarters
X-Files Basement Office
8:00am

     Mulder was already at his desk when Scully arrived, his fingers
moving swiftly over computer keys, his concentration such that he didn't
look at her when she entered.

     She stood for a second at the door as it clicked shut behind her.
His focus was so intense there were little furrows between his eyebrows.
When he still didn't look up, she moved into the room and sat at her
desk.  "Good morning."

     He stopped typing, clicked the mouse, and looked directly at her
with a conspiratorial smile.  "I was finishing a report.  I wanted to
get it done before you came in."

     "What report is that?  I thought you were finished with the Davis
case."

     He rolled his chair back until he came up against the counter
behind him.  "I did.  This is a new X-File I think you'll be very
interested in investigating."

     "Why?" she asked cautiously, always ready to kick into the natural
skepticism she procured on every case.

     "You know the dream I called you about this morning?"

     "I'm hoping you'll finally tell me what it was about instead of
drawing out the suspense."

     He got up from his desk and strolled toward her, and she felt
natural curiosity mingle with a catch in her throat.  She wanted to run
away from him the closer he got.  When he'd almost reached her, she
stood up, as if equalizing their height would remove the sudden
intimidation she felt in his presence.  Huh, right.  Equalizing their
height wasn't possible unless she stood on a box.  A very tall box.

     She reached for the watering can beneath her desk.  "I'm going to
get water for my plant."

     When she started to walk to the door, he reached out and clasped
her arm, turning her toward him slightly.  "You want to hear about this
new case, right?"

     "Of course."

     He looked doubtful, and his gaze inspected her.  An
uncharacteristic panic took over, and she realized she was reacting in a
jumpy fashion that made no sense.  She left the room and headed down the
hall to the restroom.  Once in the bathroom she locked the door and
stood staring into the mirror.  Her careful application of makeup didn't
hide the flush in her cheeks, and she felt warm.  Shaking her head at
her own eccentricity, she decided she wouldn't analyze her feelings
right now.  

     Entering the office again a few moments later, she felt composed
and ready to face Mulder without that meddlesome fluttering in her
stomach.

     Mulder was where she'd left him, standing near her desk.  He held a
framed photograph of her mom and dad, Melissa, and herself that normally
sat on her desk.  He continued to look at it as she watered the plant on
her desk.  When she finished, he still looked at her picture.

     "You've lost a lot of people in your life," Mulder said softly.

     A dull ache, a reminder of how little the pain of her father and
her sister's deaths had faded, pushed into her.  "Yes."

     He smiled slightly.  "You know, I always thought it was pretty
amazing that you and Melissa could be so different.  That you could be
serious and analytical and she could be into healing, crystals, and
migration of souls into the next life."

     Oh, oh.  He was going into a contemplative mood.  Once he started
there was no stopping him.  Roll with it, Dana, she thought.  "That's
the way it happens in families, doesn't it?  Siblings may be similar in
a lot of ways, but their personalities may be radically different."

     He looked up.  "Are you really that much different than Melissa
was?"

     She hadn't given it much thought.  "Melissa may have had some
strange ideas, but her heart was always in the right place.  But I loved
her anyway."

     "Sort of like me?"

     She smiled faintly, then realized that she didn't know the
wherefore of his question...what he was getting at...really.  With
Mulder the twists and turns were endless.  And a person better not
answer any question too quickly lest they betray themselves.

     "I guess you could say that," she said.

     "In my family Samantha is the skeptic...was the skeptic."  A
disquiet flowed over his eyes, then the rest of his face, as if he'd
discovered something weary and old within himself.  He set the
photograph down, putting it down in precisely the same place she always
arranged it.  Another tiny smile curved one corner of his mouth.
"Sometimes I feel like she's right here in the room with me and if she
could speak she'd say..."Fox...you're crazy, you know that?"

     Scully felt a segment of her resolve to remain detached and cool
crumble like dust.  "Mulder..."

     He shoved a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.  "Where
was I?  Ah, yes.  The new case.  I wasn't going to tell you about my
dream."

     "So I gathered from the way you hung up on me this morning.   Was
it related to some psycho sexual Freudian thing?"  She spoke in jest,
but when he didn't smile, she wondered if she'd hacked him off or
whether she'd hit on the mark.

     He nodded. "I need your interpretation.  Maybe you can tell me how
sexual it was."

     "You should be able to interpret a dream better than I can.  You
have the degree in psychology, remember?"

     "I know.  But since this is my dream, I did some research...and I
wanted to bounce some ideas off of you."

     "Fair enough.  But I have to know about the dream before I can
interpret it."

     He shifted slightly, and she became acutely aware of his proximity.
A feeling of deja vu came over her, and instantly she thought of her
dream this morning.  Creepy.

     "I had a dream that you came into the office and accused me of
making it with a woman in the office."  He lowered his voice until he
was almost whispering, as if someone else was in the room with them and
might hear.  "As if I WOULD do that in the middle of the office."

     She hadn't heard him right.  She couldn't have. "What?"

     "I know it's wild.  There's more.  I remember that there was all
kinds of...uh...crazy things going on between us.  As if we were
attracted to each other.  Or rather, that I was attracted to you."

     As the reality of what he'd said penetrated the disbelief in her
brain, she knew pretending that this wasn't happening wouldn't do any
good this time.  She was an expert at cloaking her thoughts, her
feelings, her needs behind the cool exterior she'd cultivated over the
years.  In particular the exterior she showed to Mulder.  Why did she
have the feeling that this time, that method of self-defense wouldn't
work?

     "What did we do?" she asked, her voice low and soft.

     "We didn't do anything...I know that you were really antsy.  You
kept running away from me when I tried to get close you."

     She ran her tongue over her dry lips and saw him fixate on the
movement.  A curl of heat rolled in her stomach.  

     A trickle of awareness seemed to ignite in his eyes. "When I tried
to get close to you like this."  He stepped forward slightly, and he was
almost touching her.

     Bewilderment swamped her again. She backed away a step.

     His eyes widened.  "Just like that!  You're doing it right now."

     "You stand close to me lots of times.  It doesn't mean anything."

     "You're always running away from me."  He closed the gap again, but
she didn't back away. "In the dream.  In real life."

     She felt a spike of anger obliterate other feelings.  "No,  I think
you've got it all wrong.  Dreams are just dreams.  Sure, they mean
something, but rarely should the symbols used in the dream be
interpreted literally.  They are symbols, Mulder.  The unconscious mind,
the right brain's language."

     "So what I was feeling...the need to get close...the desire to..."
He hesitated, his breath catching.  "The way you tried to avoid me and
avoid talking about us..."

     "Damn it, Mulder, make some sense for once!"  At that moment she
was confused, but she was also angry, and she didn't know why.  But it
didn't matter, because it felt like PMS gone amok and there wasn't much
chance of controlling that once it was started.  "You haven't even told
me everything that happened in the dream.  What happened?"

     His mouth dropped open slightly, as if her loss of control shocked
him.  Hell, it dumbfounded her.  Her ire was slow to boil, but this time
it had come from nowhere with ballistic intensity.

     Turning away, he presented his back to her, and the message in THAT
was unmistakable.  "Maybe I should just take this case on my own."

     She grabbed his arm and jerked him around.  She took a deep breath
but it didn't stop the way her blood pumped furiously through her veins,
making her light headed.  "For once will you get to the point?  You had
this dream where you wanted to get close to me.  What does that have to
do with a new case about dream analysis?"

     He stared at her for a long moment before he said, "The dream
started off with you coming into the office and accusing me of making it
in the office with another woman." 

     "You already told me that."

     He went on to describe the dream in detail, not giving her a chance
to say anything.  Finally, when he finished, he stared at her, challenge
written on his expression.  He put his hands on his hips.

     She was stunned, to say the least.  He had had the same dream as
her.  The same dream.  She closed her eyes and almost  laughed.  It was
insane. How could she have a dream about Mulder getting it on with a
woman in the office and him have the same dream?  She felt his hands on
her shoulders, and she opened her eyes.  

     "What are you thinking?" he asked.

     It was time to be honest.  "You've just described the same dream I
was having when you called me this morning."

End of Part One


Interim II:  Liaison (2/2)
by Denise A. Agnew
writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk

Halloween
Friday, 8:30am

     "What?" Mulder said, clearly the skeptical one this time.

     "We had the same dream," Scully said.

     "Wow."

     "Is that all you can say?"

     He went back to his desk and retrieved a file.  He brought it to
her.  "This might help us understand what happened."

     "What's this?"

     "Dream interpretation analysis by F.B. Forbes, preeminent dream
researcher in the country."  He tapped on the first page in the file.
"Read this.  I think you'll find it interesting."

     She glanced over the page, speed reading.  Within a couple of
minutes she'd scanned the paper and gleaned the meat of the information.
The unsettled feeling she'd had before returned in bucket loads.  "And?
What has this to do with a case?"

     "My dream, Scully.  Your dream. Forbes said that when people have
the same dream at the same time with the same details, that this is a
significant psychic connection." 

     He stared at her, the intensity of his gaze filling her with
disquietude.  "You're saying we're the X-File?"

     "Think about it, Scully.  We've never BEEN an X-file together.
Intriguing concept, no?"

     She made a noise of disbelief in her throat.  "Yes, but-"

     He rudely snatched the file out of her hand and turned away from
her again, tossing the file on his desk. "Why is it always BUT with you?
Can't you ever be curious about something without assuming it's all a
load of cock and bull?  Haven't you seen enough things in the four years
we've worked together to take SOMETHING on blind faith?"

     His outburst seemed to have matched the one she had earlier in
intensity and volume.  She stared at him, trying to process what he
said.  "Is that what this is all about?  My willingness to believe you?"
She closed her eyes, sighed, then opened them.  This time she walked up
to him, forcing herself to get close, just as close as he'd been
earlier.  He didn't move and the hardness in his expression didn't
waver.  "Yes, we've been working together a long time, and yes I do
question things a little more strenuously than you do.  Do you really
wish I was any other way?"

     His mouth opened, then closed.  "No."

     "Because if you do, then maybe we shouldn't be working together."

     His eyebrows speared together, making his fierce frown more
ominous.  "You don't mean that."

     "Yes, I do mean it."  She reached for the file and held it up
between them.  "So we had a dream at the same time, about the same
thing.  What do you think it means?"

     He appeared to relax, but not by much.  "I asked you to interpret."

     She opened the file again and looked over the multitude of papers
he'd managed to glean from various sources, including Dr. Forbes
Internet page.  "Okay.  Assuming that this dream means we have a psychic
connection, then all it says is that we've been partners for a long time
and that we trust each other."

     "But why with those symbols, assuming that the symbols themselves
are code for other meanings?  Why would I be trying to get close to
you..."

     She knew that this conversation wasn't going to go anywhere but
into avenues she couldn't explore.  Didn't dare explore.  How was she
going to get herself out of it?  

     Despite her inclination not to delve deeper into their
relationship, she heard herself say, "You do like to stand close to me
like you are now.  Why?"

     He cocked his head to the side like a bewildered puppy.  He looked
away and pondered for several moments for looking back at her.  "You're
my friend as well as my partner.  I trust you with my life."

     "That's a reasonable interpretation."

     "Yes, but it doesn't explain why you did everything in the dream
exactly as you would in real life.  It was MY dream, Scully.  Hell I was
tempted to--."  

     "It was my dream, too.  And-" she cut herself off, not certain
where she was going with this line of reasoning.  "All right, let's
stick with the analysis as if it were your dream for just a moment."

     "Agreed, but only if we can come back to your dream."

     She nodded reluctantly.  "From the description of your dream, I'd
say you want something from me but you're afraid I'll run away...or that
I won't listen, or that I'll belittle your efforts."  She put the file
down calmly. 

     He nodded also.  "You could be right.  But I'm used to your second
guessing.  Why would I be worried about that now?  And you always listen
to me even if you don't agree with me."

     She put her hand on his arm.  "Just because you dream of it...of
being worried about how I'll react doesn't mean that you don't,
subconsciously, fear that is what will happen."

     "You're saying I fear you'll...leave me someday?"

     She released his arm.  She held on to her breath for a second, the
chaotic jumble that threatened to undermine her calm again warring for
attention.  "I didn't say that.  You did."

     A minuscule trigger of fear seemed to flit across his features
again and settle in his eyes.  "But you did leave me once.  And I got
you back."

     She nodded.  "But you know I wouldn't leave you of my own
violation, Mulder.  We've been through too much.  This journey is my
journey, too."

     This seemed to relax him significantly, and she realized, as his
shoulders seemed to sag a little, that she was also tense.  Expectant.
As if there were something on the horizon for them that might change
everything. As sure as she understood that change was inevitable, she
knew that she didn't want change.  She wanted what they had.  It was
safe and comfortable...yeah, right.  It might be safe, but it sure as
hell wasn't cozy right now. 

     "All right.  So we've analyzed the dream from my viewpoint.  Your
turn," he said.

     "I'm not sure-"

     He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, and she made a
little gasp of surprise at the tingle she felt when his fingers brushed
her cheek.  Caught up in his gaze, she saw his eyes darken, deepen with
meaning she couldn't interpret.  Not in her dream, and not now. 

     "Tell me, Scully.  How do you interpret your desire to get away
from me...in the dream?"

     She caught his reference, his switch from the reality of now, to
the dream world.  

     "I don't think I can."

     "Why not?"

     "It's difficult to interpret one's own dreams with any accuracy."

     "I see. You'd rather make this difficult and have me do it."

     Defensively, she drew herself up taller.  "Unlike you, Mulder, I'm
not so damned suspicious of everything and everybody that I attribute
every personal gesture, every word you speak as something I have to
ruminate on." 

     "All right.  You step away from me because you want to keep a
professional distance."

     "Everyone has their personal space differences, you know that."

     "But people only let those that they feel comfortable with...or
those that they are intimate with into that space, right?"

     Reluctantly she nodded.  "Right. Your personal space just happens
to be bigger than mine."

     Eyes bright, he shook his head and smiled. "That's not true.  My
personal space is actually quite large.  You're the only one in a long
time that I've wanted to be that close to.  That I've let into that
space, Scully."

     "So you are comfortable with me, and I'm comfortable with you.
There's your interpretation."

     "That's too easy."

     "Why does it have to be difficult?"

     "X-Files are always complicated.  Why should this one be any
different?"

     Sometimes the man was so irritating she wanted to pull his hair,
kick his shins, do anything to get him away from his one-track, single-
minded forays.  "Give me one reason why I shouldn't walk away from this
right now, Mulder.  This isn't a case assigned to us by Skinner, and
I've got plenty of other work I could do rather than engage in endless
psycho babble with you."

     His hand flashed out to grasp her shoulder.  "Fair enough.  I think
you backed away from me in the dream because you were no longer
comfortable." 

     Suddenly she realized they were in a space so intimate that if she
didn't back away he'd be touching her and with his desk behind her there
was nowhere to go.  Instead of going with the instinct to back away, she
went with a second need.  To stay right where she was.  To let him see
everything that was there, deep in her eyes if he cared to look.  Maybe
he could explain what she was feeling to her.  She sure as hell didn't
know.

     "And all the time I've been your partner, you've almost always
allowed me close physically, even as you withdrew from me mentally," he
said.  "Why aren't you comfortable with me anymore?"

     "Because I feel...I feel sometimes as if you're...that maybe you
want something more from me than I can give."

     A puzzled frown traversed his face.  "More?  Such as?"

     "More than what we have.  We've got a friendship I wouldn't trade
for the world, Mulder.  And if we..." she licked her lips. "We have
something stronger than this." As soon as the words were out of her
mouth, she was terrified. Was that what this had been all about?  Did
she want to recreate the dream?  "I can't do this."

     "What is...this?" he asked, his voice husky. He clasped her other
shoulder.

     "When I get too close to you lately...it's as if...as if you want
me as more than your partner."

     There.  The words were out.  Finally.  Irretrievable.  Indelible.

     When she saw the light flicker into his eyes she realized she'd hit
the nail on the head.  It was what he wanted.  A little devil reared in
her head and chanted, omigod, omigod, omigod.  This isn't happening.  It
mustn't happen.

     "We've been drifting toward something for a long time, Scully," he
said calmly, as if it weren't quite the big deal she'd made this moment
out to be in her mind.  "Part of me says I need more.  You need more."

     She shook her head, but couldn't find any words to say.

     He gazed at her for the longest time, as if he could win in a game
of stare down.  "Tell me you don't want...you don't want to be more to
me...and I'll forget we ever had this conversation."

     "I can't."

     "Why?"

     "Because you want from me everything...all my thoughts...all
my...feelings for you...but you don't do the same."

     "I'm here talking about it right now, aren't I?"

     This time she stared, until she couldn't take the intensity of it
any longer, and she looked at the floor.  "I know that as soon as I tell
you what I feel for you, you'll walk away.  Because you'll have the
information you need for your X-File.  The case will be solved. It won't
be just for us, Mulder.  It will be for a damned X-File."

     He dropped his hands from his shoulders, and she missed the warmth.
Knew that by doing this she might have taken a piece of her heart and
cut it off as sure as if she'd taken a real knife and plunged it into
her chest.  "I see."

      "Do you?"  She dared to look at him and saw that same
concentration as before. "No matter how you feel about me, Mulder, I
know you still have things you have to do. You don't have all the
answers.  You haven't found the truth.  And you haven't found Samantha.
That's why no one can call you Fox, Mulder.  Because she called you Fox,
didn't she?  And because you won't let her go you won't let anyone get
that close to you ever again.  Because using your first name means
closeness and intimacy and that hurts far too much if that person is
gone.  They'll take a piece of your heart with you you'll never get
back.  How can I compete with that?"

     "I didn't ask you to compete," he said, his voice going slightly
ragged.

     He walked away, leaned on the file cabinet with both hands and
looked at the wall.  "You think I'll abandon you if we were to become
more than friends."  He turned back to her, and she could see something
else in his look, in the desperation.

     "No.  You'd still care about me, I hope.  But you'd have to go
wherever the truth took you."

     "You could go with me, the way you always do."  The pleading look
in his eyes admitted a little of what he was feeling.  

     She walked up to him again and put her hand on his back, gently
caressing.  "Yes.  I'll always go with you.  But as long as you have
this quest, as long as we have this quest, we can't let what we have
become more."

     He released his death grip on the file cabinet and turned toward
her.  "We already have more."  He reached down, startling her as he
cupped her face and placed a swift, gentle kiss on her lips.  

     Then he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind
him.

     A tiny knife pierced her chest, and the emotional pain wasn't
dulled by the certain knowledge that they were professionals.  They
could remain detached.  They had to.

     They had done the right thing holding back.  Hadn't they?

The End

-- 
Denise A. Agnew