The characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner are copyright of Ten Thirteen Productions, Chris Carter and Fox Broadcasting. The lyrics to "Blue, Clear Sky" are copyright of George Strait and his record label. No infringement intended on my part....just doing some wishful thinking. :-) Category: Mulder/Scully Romance Time span: Third season (no spoilers) Rating: PG-13 Dedication: This one goes out to one of my favorite professional romance writers, LaVyrle Spencer. Thanks for using that quote, it inspired this story. All comments and complaints go to SpookyFoxx@aol.com. **NOTE** Before you begin, let me tell you this is a 'Mulder story'. It deals with his thoughts and emotions, so I'm not ignoring Scully's feelings, just concentrating on Mulder's. Thanks for reading! ____________________________ A Young Man's Fancy by Barbara Nice-Miller SpookyFoxx@aol.com ____________________________ {In the spring, a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love} - Alfred, Lord Tennyson - from the poem 'Locksley Hall' "OK, Scully. Come on, you can do it. Push!" "I can't!" "Yes you can. Take a breath. OK, push!" "I swear Mulder, I'm *never* doing this again!" He laughed. "Come on, you're almost there. Just one more big one and you're done. Ready...push!" And with a final groan and a soft "Pop!", it was all over. Mulder smiled. "See? I told you you could do it." Scully smiled weakly in return as Mulder continued. "But the *next* time you buy a new couch, I'd advise measuring the doorway first so that it doesn't get stuck halfway through." "Smart ass. You could've helped a little more, though. Instead of standing there grinning like a fool." "Well, if you hadn't made me walk backwards carrying that stupid thing, I wouldn't have been the first one inside the apartment. *I* would've been the one doing the pushing." "Speaking of pushing, could you please help me get it over against the wall?" Springtime was here and that meant spring cleaning. But this year Dana Scully had taken things a little too far. Not only had she gotten rid of old clothes and shoes, but some of her furniture as well. Her couch, chair and mattress to be exact. It was time for a change, she'd told Mulder. The delivery men were backed up and she didn't want to wait, so she'd pursuaded Mulder to spend a vacation day with her and help her get her new furniture home. So here they were, struggling to get the puffy, new couch into her apartment. Dragging the couch across the floor, Mulder commented, "You certainly know how to show a guy a good time, Scully." She smacked him lightly on the arm. "Oh, quit whining. I promised to treat you to dinner, didn't I?" "And after all this hard work, dessert had *better* be included," he joked. They got the couch moved against the wall then stood back to take a look at the living room. They had brought the chair up first and it sat on the other side of the coffee table. Mulder looked over at his partner as she surveyed her new furniture. She was dressed in what used to be a long sleeved grey sweatshirt, but was now short sleeved and cropped to just above her waist thanks to a pair of scissors, scruffy jeans and sneakers, with her hair pulled back into a pony tail. He thought she looked adorable. It was a warm spring afternoon, sunny and bright. Scully had opened up all her windows and a refreshing breeze was blowing through the apartment. The radio was playing over in the corner. All in all, it was a beautiful day that was slowly dissipating the horrors of last week. Scully turned and caught his eye. She gave him a wide smile and opened her mouth to say something when the phone rang. She turned and jogged over to the phone, passing the still-open door of her apartment. She gave it a push as she went by. But with all the windows open and the breeze blowing through, the door slammed shut so forcefully it sounded like a gunshot. Gunshot.... The world faded away as Mulder's mind was thrown back in time.... ************************* They were in Chicago tracking a serial killer and rapist who's spree had spanned three states and four months. His victims were all young girls who had been offered as a sacrifice in a sickening ritual. He had been called in to put together a profile when VCS admitted they were at a roadblock in their investigation. Another victim was found only hours after he had completed the profile. So he had pursuaded Skinner to let Scully accompany him to Chicago. He wanted her forensic input. The horrible things the killer had done to this child's body was almost too much for him. She was only eight years old with long, dark hair. He could not stop the visions of Samantha that invaded his every waking moment. He was going to get this bastard if it was the last thing he did. It almost was. He knew Scully was worried about him. She looked at him the way he had looked at her during the Pfaster investigation. His nightmares, which had been almost non-existant lately, now came back in full force. Sam's face on the dead girl's body was the image that haunted his sleep. He had woken up screaming her name the previous night to find Scully sitting on the edge of his hotel bed holding his hand. She stayed with him for quite awhile, until he had fallen back into a fitful sleep. Working closely with the Chicago police department, he and Scully had a suspect identified in two days, thanks in part to Mulder's profile and a witnesses partial description of the killer fleeing the scene. Their attempt to apprehend the suspect had gone bad, one cop was already in the hospital. The killer fled to a railyard, hoping to hop on a freight train leaving the city. He, Scully, and the Chicago PD were close behind. It was almost midnight when they reached the yard, the moon casting an eeire glow over everything and everyone in the crisp spring night. He, Scully and the officers spread out, searching intensely, all senses on alert and guns drawn. As he and Scully approached two connected box cars, he motioned for her to take one side and he the other. The tension in the air was like electricity and the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. The gravel under his feet crunched softly as he stealthly approached the opening on the side of the box car, his back rubbing against the rusted metal and his gun held high next to his face. Pausing briefly next to the opening, he let the adrenaline surge through his veins, giving him strength. Springing away from the side, he jumped in front of the opening with his weapon pointed straight out in front of him. What happened next was still kind of a blur, it happened so fast. The two by four came swinging out of the blackness, cutting through the air with a whistle, smashing into his gun hand and nearly breaking his wrist. He dropped the gun in pain, but before he could utter a sound, the board came smashing downward again, catching him on the left side of his head and laying him out on his back. Stunned, in pain, his vision blurry from the blow and the blood dripping in his eye, he could do nothing except lie there and watch as the killer dropped to the ground from the box car door, grinning evilly and tossing the board to one side. Too late, he saw the killer had already picked it up from where it lay beneath the box car. Digging his heels in the gravel, he scrambled backwards, trying to stand. But the pain in his head was overwhelming and he started to lose consciousness. As the blackness closed in and the killer stood above him pointing the gun downward at his chest, he had one final thought. He let his eyes close as he heard the click of the hammer, waiting for the sound and the excruciating pain that would accompany it. He heard the gunshot, but felt no pain, instead feeling a body land across his legs. It surprised him enough to jolt him back to semi-consciousness and open his eyes. There, standing ten feet away was his partner, looking like an angel in the moonlight. *His* angel. Her weapon was still pointed out in front of her, tendrils of smoke still emminating from the barrel. She holstered her gun and ran toward him, calling his name. Upon reaching him she dropped to her knees, oblivious to the rocks and dirt staining her suit pants and flipped the killer's body off his legs, the bullet hole in the back of the man's head still bleeding. She moved, gently picking up his head and placing it in her lap, running her hand softly across his face. "Mulder? Mulder, can you hear me?" His reply was just above a whisper as he let his body relax and give in to the wave of darkness, safe in his partner's arms. "Thank you." And a single tear escaped to run slowly down his face. He woke up six hours later at Rush/Presbyterian/St. Luke's Medical Center. Scully was again sitting next to him, holding his hand when he opened his eyes. Her face lit up and broke into a smile, the worry leaving her eyes. She gave his hand a squeeze and said softly, "Welcome back, partner." They were going to release him that evening, sending him home with a large bandage above his left eye and a brace on his right wrist. Scully left to go get some sleep herself, then would handle the paperwork with the Chicago PD and be back to pick him up. After Scully left he knew he should go back to sleep, but his mind was racing. He had alot of thinking to do about what had happened. He'd been close to death before, but this time... this time had shaken him to his soul. Because the other times he'd been in pursuit of the Truth and had always thought that would be how it would end. He'd long since accepted that as an honorable death. But not at the hands of a crazed killer. Not like that. So many things had flooded his mind as he stared into the barrel of his own weapon. But the most important one was that he'd never see Scully again. Never hear her laugh or see her smile. Never hear her tell him his theories were crazy or see her give him The Look. Never have the chance to tell her he loved her. And until the moment when he was faced with his own mortality, he hadn't been sure it really was love. After all, they'd never been on a date, or kissed or even walked down the street holding hands. He wasn't sure his feelings for her were anything more than friendship. But when faced with the fact that he'd never see her again, he knew it was love. She was the one thing in his life he couldn't bear to be without. And he cursed himself for having to almost die before figuring it out. But now what? Run up to her, drop down on one knee and profess his love? Yeah, right. And what about Scully? Sure, they joked and teased and even flirted a bit, but did she really feel something for him? He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. This was turning out to be tougher to solve than any X-File! He insisted, against Scully's wishes, that they catch the next fight out of O'Hare, instead of waiting till morning. He just wanted to get home. He barely spoke the whole flight, suddenly shy around the woman he loved. And Scully thankfully said nothing, probably contributing his silence to the stress of the last few days. Upon returning to Washington, Skinner insisted they both take a few days off. He protested, insisting that he was fine and ready to return to work. But it wasn't work he was looking forward to, it was being with Scully. He'd finally realized he loved her. He was not about to be separated from her for a few days. But Skinner wouldn't hear of it and sent his agents home. He couldn't believe his luck when Scully called him the next morning and asked him to help her move some furniture, if he was feeling up to it. He jumped at the chance to be with her and said he'd be right over. ***************************** The touch on his arm made him nearly jump out of his skin and jolted him out of his memories and back into the present. Scully was standing next to him, her hand still on his arm. "Earth to Mulder. Come in Mulder," she joked. He blinked. "Oh, sorry. Did you say something?" "You OK? You looked about a million miles away." He smiled. "I'm fine. Just thinking." He looked away to find himself staring out the open window in the living room. He never even remembered walking over to it. Scully dropped her arm and rested both hands on the window sill. She closed her eyes briefly and inhailed deeply of the warm spring air. Still looking out the window, she commented, "Beautiful, isn't it?" "Yes, beautiful," he agreed. But he wasn't looking out the window. Averting his gaze quickly, lest she find him openly staring at her, he asked, "Who was on the phone?" She turned to face him. "Oh! Thanks for reminding me. It was the truck rental agency. We're half and hour late returning it." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on G-man, let's get that mattress up here." He swept his arm out to the side. "Lead on, G-woman." They were both sweating by the time the mattress finally made it's way into the apartment and Mulder's wrist was throbbing. He should've never attempted to move all this furniture, but being the "macho man" that he was, he refused to tell Scully he was hurting. Propping the mattress against her bedroom's doorframe, they walked into her room. The box spring sat on the bed frame, waiting for the mattress to be put on top of it. But there were some obsticles in the way. Pillows were scattered all over the floor next to the bed where Scully had pushed them off her old mattress. They both leaned over to pick them up when a flash of skin caught Mulder's eye. With Scully bent over, her short shirt gaped open at the waist, giving Mulder a great view of the smooth, flat plane of her stomach. He swallowed visably and immediately felt a hardening inside his boxer shorts. His thoughts were heading toward the "erotic zone" when something soft connected with his shins. His gaze shot upward from Scully's stomach to her eyes. She was staring right at him. And from the look on her face she'd seen where he'd been staring. Which is why she'd hit him with the pillow. Embarassed, Mulder did the first thing that came to mind. He hit her in the butt with his own pillow. Well that did it. A rousing pillow fight ensued, with Mulder and Scully running around her room laughing hysterically, pillows flying. They made quite a sight; the tall, lanky man and the petite, red haired woman acting like children, carefree and happy, their laughter ringing throughout the apartment. The pillow fight was proceeding nicely until Scully picked up a small, harder throw pillow and launched it at Mulder's chest. Her aim was way off and the projectile hit him squarely above his left eye. Right on the bandage with the fresh stitches beneath. Mulder's hand flew to his head and he sank down onto the box spring with a grimace of pain on his face. Scully was immediately apologetic. "God! Mulder, I'm so sorry," she said in a rush. "Here, put your hand down and let me look at it," she told him as she walked over to where he was sitting. He was about to protest and tell her he was fine until she came to a stop with her left leg pressed up against his own leg. All rational thoughts left his mind as he soaked in the nearness of her body. With him sitting and her standing, his head was almost even with her chest. As she began removing the bandage, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhailing her scent. She smelled faintly of sweat, but also of fresh air and the outdoors, mixed with strawberries. Probably her shampoo. All together, it was uniquely Scully and he could never get enough. Seemingly of their own accord, Mulder's hands slowly raised up and settled on her hips, nearly spanning her waist, half his fingers resting on her bare skin and half on her jeans. At the same time Mulder's hands were moving, so were Scully's. She had removed the bandage and was brushing his hair out of the way when her movements slowed and became more of a caress. She softly ran her hand through his hair, loving the feel of the soft, silky strands. Her hand moved lower, coming to rest on his cheek. They remained that way for quite a few minutes, unsure of what was happening. Mulder finally opened his eyes to gaze into Scully's sparkling blue ones as she began speaking. "I thought I was going to lose you in Chicago. I've never been so scared in my life; seeing you lying on the ground, bleeding," her hand began to tremble, "with a gun pointed at your chest." She paused to draw in a deep breath. "And I realized that my life would be very empty without you." She wrapped both arms around his neck and impulsively drew him into a hug. Mulder thought he'd died and gone to heaven as he wrapped his arms around Scully's waist and returned the hug, his head resting on her chest. They drew apart a moment later and Mulder's eyes glistened with moisture and his voice was rough with emotion when he spoke. "I realized something, too..." This was it. He was at the point of no return. He was bursting at the seams with his love for this woman and he would give anything to know what she was thinking at this very moment. Because he couldn't contain his emotions any longer and was dreadfully afraid of making a mistake with his next words. He could lose his partner and very best friend or gain something beyond his wildest dreams: her love. So with his heart in his throat, he took a chance. "I love you, Dana." She stood there, utterly still, silent. And to him her expression was unreadable. Shock? Joy? Confusion? But actions spoke louder than words anyway. She placed her hands on either side of his face, leaned over...and softly, gently, pressed her lips to his. A breeze blew through the room, encircling the man and the woman, binding them together and carrying with it the music from the radio in the living room. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Here she comes, a walkin', talkin' true love Sayin' I been lookin' for you, love Surprise, your new love has arrived Out of the blue, clear sky ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Spring. A time for new beginnings. ******************************* THE END ....and that's all she wrote, folks! Thanks for reading! Barbara Nice-Miller SpookyFoxx@aol.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "You even have an Indian name: Fox. You should be Running Fox or Sneaky Fox." "Just as long as it's not Spooky Fox." - 'Shapes' ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Proud member of Extreme Possibilities and M&S! My other stories: Linked I Wish I May... Two of Hearts Mistaken Identity