Hi!  It's the GATEWAYS erpson hee, letting you know that I AM writing a
sequal to it.  I have no idea when/if will be finished, but hey, that's
writing for you.
     This is just alittle something I cooked up after last night's
prsentation of "GROTESQUE."
     To the Relationshippers out there, while this is left open ended, like
the title suggests, I would warn you that I had no intention of these two
sleeping together.  In my sequel to GATEWAYS, entitled PASSAGE, I have a
scene in which the two sleep together under the only circumstances they ever
will.
    As for the legalities of posting this, I can only say that while I
"borrow" these two characters from Chris Carter and all of his affiliates,
they will always be a part of my heart.
(awwww.)

"Open End Catharsis"
LGraham103
2/3/96

 Mulder sat in his office, typing halfheartedly at some reports for a recent
X-files that he and Scully had both just completed.  It had been a tense
case, with both of them hardly talking, only allowing enough words between
them to pass along ideas.  While neither of them were mad at each other about
anything, he didn't think, it was if some unknown wall had been placed
between them.
 The thing that really bothered Mulder about it, though, was that when he
looked into Scully's eyes of late, he could see something there that reminded
him of his darker side.  She was getting tired, he thought with a sigh, just
like I am.
 His life was his work, and of late, it appeared that his work would be the
death of him.  If not physically, which was imminent, it was definitely going
to be mentally. 
 Scully came quietly through the door and dumped some of he work on the desk
across from him. Their eyes locked for a moment, and that was their only
'hello'.  He was about to turn back to his computer, trying to escape into
his work again, when the screen when blank.
 "What the-"
 "Mulder,"  Scully said flatly, having turned it off, "We need to talk."
 "My work!  I was-oh, fuck it.."  He wheeled his chair around to one of those
on the side.  She sat down next to him and looked away.  
 While they both knew that the topic of this discussion would be their recent
distancing of each other, neither knew how to begin.
 "Mulder, I" her words jumped a little, "I've been-noticing, I've known, I
mean..." She gave an exasperated look to her knees and sighed through her
nose.  Mulder watched, patiently waiting for her to just say it.  "All last
year, you've been-changing. I don't know, you're," as she spoke, at became
obvious to Mulder that she was about to cry.  He was going to out his arm
around her, but decided instead to wait.  If he did it now, she might break
down before he could know what was REALLY bothering her.
 "You're," she continue, using more hand gestures to help illustrate your
point, "You're not the person I first met. He laughed and joked around.  He
even bought football tickets to a game that happened to be in the town  a
case we were on." Her small laugh at the memory coincided with a small hiccup
of a sob, "He would put officially marked letters on my desk that held corny
or crude jokes just to annoy me."  He smiled at that one.  The smile faded as
he saw where she was going with his, and knew that he, too, would be ending
this "discussion" in tears.  "After all the crap we've been through this
year, it's like the Mulder I knew, "Spooky" Mulder, really did die in New
Mexico"  This sentence ended in a soft whisper, as if she didn't want him to
know what she was thinking.  
 He held her now, breathing deeply to prevent his own tears from welling up. 
 "Scully, I-"
 "The really scary part is," she sobbed, her tone becoming that of one who is
about to reveal a painful secret, "I-I don't know if I-" she cut herself off,
but he squeezed her gently to prod her on, "I don't know if I-if I like who
you have become."
 Mulder swallowed. Her words echoed a painful memory of his own words to AD
Skinner as he tried to resign from the Bureau.  A lump rising in his throat
would only allow four words to come out uncracked, "Neither do I, Scully,
neither do I" He slumped over her, both of them crying.  
 "I miss you, Mulder.  I want you back."
 "I don't know what I can do.  I want to be him again.  I want to be able to
joke around, to date without fear of the woman working for Them, I want to be
able to sleep without my gun in my hand but I'm AFRAID, Scully.  I'm afraid
that every case we take drives me closer to the edge, but I'm just as afraid
that if I don't, I'll miss The One that will blow the lid off everything.
 "I remember the man you talked about, Scully, and I miss him too.  I think
more and more about just, just QUITTING, just giving up and living as normal
a life as my past will allow.  I think more and more about those people who
have directly or indirectly lost their lives because of ME.  I HATE myself
Scully, and I no longer fear Death because of it."
 The last sentence ended in a muffled wail of despair as he thrust his face
into the back of her neck.  All the grief and guilt he'd been storing up had
finally surfaced, and he was helpless to control it.  
 While she was still crying, she realized that he was in a much worse state
than she and she sat up to be the one he could cry on.  He buried his head in
the crook of her arm and she thought about what he had told her.  He still
blames himself for everything!  Why?  He could've come to me!  Then why, she
asked herself with a pang of guilt, didn't you ever go to him?
 Both of them had become slaves to their emotions, her tears a mixture of
guilt and pity, his of anger and grief.  After eternity came and went, he
finally was too tired to cry anymore.  Her tears came silently,  but her pain
was eating away at her.
 "We shouldn't do this here," he said, needing the comfort of a bed or couch.
 "We can't leave."
 "Why?"
 "I don't want anyone to see me like this."
 He laughed ruefully.  It was so feminine a statement that it seemed strange
coming from Scully until he realized that he didn't particularly want anyone
seeing him red eyed and flushed either.  What made the situation worse was
that there were no tissues in the room, and both of them had been covertly
using the other's attire.  He tried desperatly to find humor in this, and
began to get control.  He took of his jacket and used the lined to wipe over
his face.  He passed it over to her, who also smiled at the scavenge and took
it gratefully.
 When they had both gone into the hitching stage of aftermath, both of them
alternately sighed at the ceiling or ran their fingers through their hair,
Scully pulled a small brush from her purse. She did her best to reconstruct
it's style, and, with out asking, ran it through Mulder's too.  He pulled
away at first, but gave in.  It felt nice to be groomed, one of nature's
natural depressants.  When they both had finished, they swiftly left his
office and headed for the outside air, their steps lighter than the ones they
had used entering.
 ***

end